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“Super-wonderful” and “smokin’ hot.”

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Dear Reader,

My husband thinks I’m a flake. Thankfully, he loves me anyway. But he believes my interest in energy healing—psychics, new age philosophy, and anything out on the edge is just plain silly. My man is firmly grounded in science and Christian tradition, and doesn’t want to look beyond that for any of his answers.

It was during one of our debates that I started thinking. What if his blood pressure were out of control? It’s not, thank God, but what if he had to look outside of medical science for his answers? What if he had to turn to an energy healer? She’d have to be grounded in science because he just couldn’t go all the way out to the mystical edge. But if she was a doctor who was fed up with the politics of Western medicine, then he could explore alternative therapy with her.

Could such a couple work things out? Could they find a common ground? Maybe. If the chemistry was right. If they were meant for each other. And so In Good Hands was born. It’s a story where the science is weird, but the result is explosive!

Enjoy the sparks!

Kathy Lyons

In Good Hands
Kathy Lyons

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathy Lyons writes light, funny, sexy stories for the Harlequin Blaze line. She loves the faster pace of category books and that she can really let her humor fly. She leaves the dark, tortured love stories to her alter ego, Jade Lee. A USA TODAY bestseller, Jade writes sizzling romances in sexy, dark historical settings. In her spare time, Kathy loves kicking butt on a racquetball court and is a state champion. Jade, on the other hand, loves kicking back and watching the Syfy channel with her husband. Visit them both on the web at www.kathylyons.com or www.jadeleeauthor.com!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

1

DR. AMBER SMITHSON leaned across the table, nearly dunking her silk blouse into her salad dressing. “Well?” she whispered to the goth-dressed teen across from her. “What’d he say?”

Lizzy did a quick scan of the room, looking quite dramatic in her dark eye liner and studded dog collar.

“Don’t worry,” said Amber. “I already checked. No one from the hospital is here.” Then she patted the table. “Come on, give. What’d he say?”

Lizzy took a deep breath, and for a moment Amber feared the worst. And then the girl burst into a big smile. “My blood test came back amazing! That’s what he said. Amazing! He doesn’t quite believe it.”

“Of course he doesn’t.” Dr. Bob Brickers was as traditional a doctor as they came. He still thought penicillin was cutting edge. He would never accept that a special tea plus some energy sessions done by Amber could possibly bring type 1 diabetes under control. “So everything looks good?” Amber pressed, a little shocked herself that it was working.

“I’m producing insulin on my own! That’s what he said. Pretty soon I’ll be able to get off the shots completely!”

Amber held up her hands. “One step at a time. The diabetes is under control. That’s huge. But—”

“I know! I know! And I didn’t say a word to Dr. Brickers about what we’re doing. But I know it will work!”

Amber smiled, her own hopes rising. As a doctor at Mandolin Clinic, Amber couldn’t possibly admit she was prescribing holistic treatments to anyone, least of all Dr. Brickers’s patients. After all, the man was Amber’s direct boss. But Lizzy’s mom was a friend and had begged Amber for help when the normal treatments had little effect. So Amber had prescribed a special tea and done energy work on the kid. And it was working!

“Just keep doing what you’re doing—especially the diet and exercise.”

“I know, I know,” Lizzy said with a very dramatic eye roll. “And I won’t tell anyone or you’ll get fired. But it’s working!”

Yes, it certainly looked like it was. The two spent the rest of the lunch hour giggling like little girls, then Amber dropped Lizzy back at school before returning to the hospital.

Some days it was hard keeping her interest in holistic healing secret from the ultra-conservative administration at Mandolin. But days like today made it all worth it. That was the reason she’d become a doctor: to find out what worked and what didn’t, no matter the source. Her colleagues might think she was nuts, but she didn’t care if it was Eastern, Western or alien medicine. If it worked, then she was going to embrace it even if it dealt with something as loosy-goosy as “qi energy.”

If only she could get her colleagues to be so open-minded. Some of them were, but the administration was firmly entrenched in the “Western medicine is God” mode, especially Dr. Brickers and his cronies. And until they left or retired, nothing would change at Mandolin.

She lived for that day, prayed nightly for it. Because frankly, she was running out of patience. She’d picked this hospital because it was expected of her. Six generations of Smithsons had worked here as orderlies, then nurses, and then her grandfather had become a doctor here. Her mother, too. So she’d caved to family pressure because Mandolin really was a good hospital and a prestigious place to work.

Then she’d discovered how very narrow-minded her boss was. Not only was alternative medicine evil, in his mind, but anyone who explored it was the devil’s handmaiden. No doctor under his watch could suggest anything but traditional Western medicine. So Amber had hidden her interest. She saw patients like Lizzy on her lunch hour, off of hospital grounds. But she was getting tired all the subterfuge.

She was still absorbed in those gloomy thoughts when she stepped through the door and was ambushed by Dr. Jack Ross, her best friend and an extremely talented neurologist. He matched steps with her and was obviously bursting with news.

“Guess who’s just killed his last patient,” he said as they stepped into the empty elevator.

“Oh, God,” she gasped. “Not another!” They were in a hospital, and people died in hospitals. But lately, the mortality rate at Mandolin was unusually high. It happened sometimes, but it never failed to raise alarms among the people in charge. Who then went crusading around desperately looking for an answer. Or a scapegoat.

“Yup. But this time the family’s lodged a complaint and it’s been backed up by a fellow doctor.”

The elevator doors open, and before Amber could move to her office, Jack gripped her arm and steered her to a doctor’s lounge. It was thankfully empty at the moment, but that wouldn’t last. Before long, practically the whole staff would wander through looking for more gossip to dish. Amber asked the first question on her mind.

“Who died?” Was it someone she knew?

Jack shrugged. “Some woman. Mother of four. Eldest is a lawyer and making all sorts of noise.”

“A name, please.”

He responded with the diagnosis. “Uterine cancer but she died of a heart attack. Why aren’t you asking whose patient she was?”

Because she knew. There was only one doctor that Jack desperately wanted gone. The same doctor who was a pain in Amber’s backside. Dr. Bob Brickers.

“Keep your voice down,” she whispered as she leaned forward. “What happened? Exactly.”

“Remember how Bob took that long vacation last month? Well, he pushed up this woman’s radiation treatment before she was ready. He wanted to get things going before he left. Anyway, she was too weak to do radiation, so bam, last night she has a heart attack and dies.”

Amber felt her mouth go slack. Bob couldn’t be that irresponsible. Sure, everyone jostled their schedules when they wanted to take a vacation, but to endanger a patient like that? Especially one who…

Her eyes widened and her breath got short. “Wait a moment,” she breathed. “Who was the patient? What was her name?”

Jack straightened, alarm growing on his face as he realized something was up. “I don’t remember. Vera someone, I think.”

“Vera Barker?”

“I don’t know.”

But Amber did. It all made sense in the most horrible way. She closed her eyes, fighting the tears. To think that Vera was gone. That she would never trade vegetarian recipes with her again. That no one would ever hear her weird horsey laugh again. That her grandchildren would never know how absolutely special she was. The very idea made her heart break. “Not Vera,” she whispered. “Oh, God, not Vera.”

Two hours later, she was having the exact same discussion in the director’s office. Dr. Brickers was there, his face hot and his expression furious. And he was pointing a finger at her.

“Did you or did you not see my patient behind my back?” demanded Dr. Brickers.

Amber sighed and addressed her words to the director. “Vera came to me. She was incredibly weak from the chemotherapy and she had heard about some herbal teas.”

“You did!” Brickers all but screamed. “You gave her some holistic crap behind my back, and now she’s dead.”

Amber didn’t bother looking at her boss. Instead, she spoke as calmly and clearly as possible. “My treatments were working, sir. She was getting stronger. But she wasn’t ready for radiation yet. Dr. Brickers pushed up her radiation just so he could go on vacation.”

“That’s not true!” bellowed her boss. But he shut his mouth when the director held up his hand.

“That’s not relevant, Amber,” said the head of the hospital. “Did you or did you not see Dr. Brickers’s patient?”

Amber sighed but stayed with the truth. “I did.”

“And you prescribed some herbal tea?”

“And certain energy treatments, yes. And they were working!”

The director just shook his head. “You know that’s against hospital policy. You can’t see someone else’s patient behind his back. You can’t prescribe non-traditional treatments. My God, Amber, what were you thinking?”

Amber threw up her hands. “That it was working!”

“Except that she’s dead,” inserted Dr. Brickers.

“Because you pushed up her radiation before she was ready.”

The director sighed. “You can’t have it both ways, Amber. Either she was stronger or she wasn’t.”

“Sir!”

“I’m afraid my hands are tied, Amber. You broke hospital policy, you deliberately went behind your boss’s back and now a patient is dead.”

Amber took a deep breath, struggling to keep her temper in check. “You’re right, sir. I should have told Dr. Brickers that Vera contacted me. I’m sorry and it will never happen again. But you can’t blame the treatment for—”

The director held up his hand. “Who administered this so-called energy treatment?”

“I did, sir. It’s very safe. It works with the body’s qi energy—”

“Is it approved by the American Medical Association as an appropriate treatment for cancer?”

Amber grimaced. “You know it’s not.”

“Then I’ll have to ask for your resignation.”

Amber’s eyes widened in shock even though she’d known this was a possibility. “You’re firing me? Even if the treatment worked? Even if the patient got stronger and healthier because of it?”

The director just shook his head. “We can’t have doctors practicing non-traditional medicine here at Mandolin. It’s just not the way we do things.”

“Even if it works?”

“Even if. The liability is too high.” Then he leaned forward, his expression almost pleading. “Look, I know we’re all under a lot of pressure. We’re a high-profile hospital and our patients must get better.”

“That’s what I was trying to do,” she said.

“But not the right way, Amber. Still, if you’ll promise to stop with all this qi nonsense then I’ll soften this to an official reprimand. You’re a great doctor, Amber. It would be a shame to lose you.”

“The qi nonsense works, sir. I’ve done a lot of research on my own, but real statistics would be incredibly valuable. Let me do a study—”

Beside her, Dr. Brickers snorted his derision. “Oh, my God, how can you be so idiotic?”

The director also wasn’t swayed. “Stick to Western medicine, Amber, and don’t talk about Eastern voodoo.”

There it was plain as day. If she wanted to work as a doctor, she had to close her eyes to energy healing. She had to pretend that drugs were the only way to treat an illness. That nothing outside of traditional Western medicine had any value at all. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

“I can’t willingly put blinders on. I’m a healer, sir. From the core of my being, I work to heal people. So if a treatment works, I’ll prescribe it.”

“Western medicine works,” the director said.

“Not for everybody.” With a heavy heart, she turned and headed for the door. “You’ll have my resignation in an hour.”

2

Two years later

ROGER MARTELL stared at his doctor and tried reaching for humor. “That’s it? That’s why you dragged me in here? Geez, I thought I was dying!”

His doctor sighed. “Hypertension is a big deal. And if you don’t get it under control you will die.”

Roger flinched, a little frightened by the man’s flat, absolute tone. Sadly, he wasn’t surprised by the diagnosis. After all, he’d been fighting high blood pressure forever. His uncle and grandfather had both died from heart attacks before their fiftieth birthdays. And Roger was well on the early coronary track. But advances in medicine happened every day, right? He wasn’t desperate yet.

“Okay,” he said. “So this special new drug trial didn’t work.”

“Your pressure is higher than ever, Roger.”

“I know, I know,” he groused. This was his first drug trial, but his thirteenth medication. No matter what he did, his blood pressure kept going up and up. “There’s got to be another drug trial. Something really experimental? Seriously, Doc—”

“Seriously, you’ve got to stop relying on drugs and make some life changes. You’re three breaths away from a stroke, and before you ask…” He started flipping through Roger’s chart. “You’ve tried every medication possible, and some that I think were positively ludicrous. Looks like I’m your third doctor…”

“Fourth if you count the drug-trial people.”

His doctor sighed. “Look, I can’t even clear you to fly as a passenger in an airplane.”

Roger waved that away. “They never check that anyway.”

“Not the point.”

Roger closed his eyes and tried to remain calm. Sadly, the sight that came to his mind’s eye was his father in a treatment facility after his stroke. He hadn’t died like Roger’s uncle and grandfather, but he had lost the use of a third of his body. Roger tried to force away the panic that skated through his system. “I feel fine,” he said firmly.

“Do I need to outline all the reasons high blood pressure is called the silent killer?”

No, he didn’t need to hear that lecture again. “Okay, so what are my options?”

“Tell me about your exercise and diet.”

He knew this drill backward and forward, but he dutifully went through the litany. “I swim a mile and a half most mornings, I don’t eat red meat too often, and I know moldy bread does not count as a vegetable. Or olives in martinis.”

“Tell me about your job.”

Roger barely restrained his groan. “I love my job. I’m the CFO at a robotics firm owned by my best friend. He’s the brilliant inventor, I’m the business guy. I make sure his ideas get to market—”

“You do everything, run everything, worry about everything and the stress is killing you.”

“I’m not under pressure like those guys,” he said firmly. “They’re the geniuses who have to perform miracles every day.”

His doctor leaned back in his chair. “So you’re surrounded by geniuses under stress. No pressure there. No trying to keep up with their brilliant minds, no struggling against the melt-down of the day, no agony of trying to herd a zillion übersmart cats.”

Roger shut his mouth, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Yeah, he often felt like he was the only sane one in a freak show. Other times, he was just the dumb one in charge. His IQ was high, just not stratospheric high. Which at RFE meant he was a moron. “But I love my job,” he repeated.

The doctor sighed. “What about meditation? Yoga? There are some interesting guided prayers…”

Roger rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help himself. So his doctor switched tracks.

“Look, you’ve run out of medical options. Do you understand? There’s nothing more I can do. You have to make some life changes.”

Roger threw up his hands. “Got any suggestions other than quitting my job?”

“Well, when was your last vacation?”

“Just a little bit ago. I went skiing in Colorado. At Christmas.”

“Christmas, as in nine months ago?”

“Um, I think so.” Or maybe it was two years and nine months ago.

“Take another vacation, Roger. Take it now.”

Roger nodded, wondering where in the hell he was going to fit a vacation into his work schedule. “Okay, a vacation. What else?”

“Change your life. Find out what stress is killing you and fix it.”

“But—”

“Whatever it takes, Roger. Do it now.”

THERE WAS SOMETHING really rewarding in being a fill-in office-plant girl, Dr. Amber Smithson thought as she watered a tastefully trimmed fern. Mandolin Hospital hadn’t had greenery, or at least none that she remembered. Back then, Amber had thought her work environment was clean and simple. Now she realized it had just been sterile and dead. Which was why she got a special thrill now out of helping corporate America find some green life in a very non-green world.

This wasn’t her real job. It was just a way to make ends meet and help out the real plant lady—Mary—who was in bed right now suffering from an extremely painful spell of rheumatoid arthritis. Mary was a good friend who couldn’t afford to lose her plant job. So Amber filled in, got to play with plants and, best of all, got to remind herself why she had left the high-pressure life of high-end medicine.

Right now she was in the lobby of RFE, a robotics firm with high-dollar products and mega-dollar research. Pressure was in the very air up here, just like it had been at Mandolin. They might not be working on human bodies, but they were gambling with big money and big ideas. No one could afford to fail and Amber could taste the edge of panic that infected the air. Just like it had at Mandolin.

But she was well free of that, right? she asked herself. For the last two years, she’d been exploring alternative medicine just like she’d always wanted. No one talked to her about liability, no insurance company told her how to treat a patient, and—sadly—no one paid her bills.

Yes, she’d survived all on her own, but her patients were more likely to pay in apple pie than in dollars. Her bank account was getting tight, and her family would only help out if she gave up all her “nonsense” and came back to traditional medicine—preferably at Mandolin. Up until now, she’d refused. But all too soon, an empty bank account was going to force her to make a difficult compromise.

But that wasn’t a problem to be faced now. No, right now was for plants, RFE and…yes!…Mr. Roger Martell. The CFO of RFE had just walked into the building, and Amber was perfectly perched behind a planter to spy on the gorgeous man.

He’d caught her eye months ago, when Amber had first subbed as plant girl. Hell, the man caught every woman’s eye. Tall, dark, stylish and a power executive in every way, Amber’d been secretly spying on him whenever she worked as plant girl. Just being in the same room with him made the air feel electric, as if every second of his day was filled with important decisions. God, he was everything she missed about her old life—the urgency, the power and the feeling that she was doing something vitally important. That was Roger’s aura in a nutshell, and naturally, he’d barely stepped into the front lobby when the receptionist started buzzing people.

“Roger’s back,” the woman said into the phone. “Yes, I’ll let him know.” She didn’t hang up as she handed the man a stack of pink message notes. “Ginny wants to meet with you in a half hour—”

“Hour and a half, at the earliest.”

The receptionist didn’t miss a beat as she spoke into the phone. “It’ll be an hour and a half, Ginny. He knows it’s urgent.” She hung up the phone and passed him two large manila envelopes.

“Jesus,” he moaned. “I was only gone an hour.”

“It was a busy hour,” the receptionist returned.

Amber had to choke back her laugh as she stretched up to reach a planter hanging from the ceiling. Boy, did she remember those days! There was a time she couldn’t take a lunch break without returning to messages, mail and a group of anxious people pacing in the waiting room. She would have guessed that Mr. Martell thrived on the stress until he set down his pile of mail and took a deep calming breath. A big inhale that expanded his chest and filled out his expensive suit, before a slow exhale. And then, damn, a killer smile as he focused on the receptionist.

“So, Claire, how’s it going with the new boyfriend? Did he like that wine I recommended?”

The receptionist blinked as if she were stunned by the question, but she recovered fast enough. Then she flashed her own dimples. “Wine, no. Restaurant, yes. He’s taking me there tomorrow night.”

“Make sure he pays. You’re too beautiful to tolerate anything less than royal treatment.” Then he paused, abruptly frowning. “Wait a minute. I promised you a dinner there, didn’t I? For coming in on Saturday last month to help me with that grant application.”

The receptionist bit her lip. “I didn’t mind, you know.”

“Yeah, but Tommy did, didn’t he?”

The girl shrugged. “Tommy has to learn to make sacrifices for my career.”

Roger flashed her another quick but devastatingly handsome smile. “That he does. You’re an up-and-comer, to be sure. But since I promised you a dinner, I mean to pay up.” He pulled out his BlackBerry and hit a quick number. Twenty seconds later, he was speaking to the maitre d’. A minute after that, he snapped the phone shut with a grin. “You’re all set. Best table in the house, complimentary champagne and dinner is on me. They already have my credit card, and they’ll just add on the tip.”

Amber was stunned enough to peer around the fern, her estimation of the man upping by a thousand percent. Corporate promises like “I’ll buy you dinner sometime” happened all the time. But no one ever paid up. Except for this guy. Not surprisingly, the receptionist was equally surprised.

“Really, Roger, that’s not necessary.”

He shrugged, the motion tightening as he caught sight of an engineer barreling down the hallway at him. “Of course it is, Claire. I promised, and you earned it. Just make sure to toast me at least once.”

“You’re the best, Roger,” the woman breathed. And then they were out of time as the engineer made it to the front desk.

“Roger!” the man barked as he waved a stack of printouts in the air. “Have you seen these specs? Do you know what this is going to cost?”

“Calm down,” Roger returned and they began to move together down the hallway. Amber watched him go, appreciating the way his tailored suit accented his lean body.

“God, I love a man in a good suit,” she breathed, her voice low enough that only the receptionist could hear.

“Yeah, me, too,” responded Claire in an equally quiet tone. “Too bad he’s gay.”

Amber snapped her head around. “What?” No way was that guy gay. He exuded too much testosterone.

“Yup, queer as folk.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.”

“Why? Just because he dresses nice?”

“It’s more than that!” Claire returned. She glanced down the hallway where Roger and the engineer were talking, still in view, but thankfully out of earshot. “Every woman in this company has made a run at him, me included. We’ve got all types here—brainy, busty, blonde and brunette. We’ve even got classy and the not-so-classy.”

“He never took a bite?”

“Not even a nibble.”

Amber shook her head. “That just means he knows better than to play where he works.”

“Yeah, but he goes to all these chichi parties, always with gorgeous women.”

“So?”

“So one of us always makes a point to find out afterward. You know, are they dating, what’s going on, and—”

“And they always say they’re friends.” Amber released a low laugh. “Honey, that doesn’t mean he’s gay. Just selective.” And probably very discreet.

“Trust me,” returned Claire, her voice confident. “No man is that virtuous. Unless he’s gay.”

Amber shook her head. “Let me give you a hint,” she said. “That man right there is a player, high-end executive type. Quiet. Discreet. But hot as they come.”

They both turned together to ogle him some more. He was still in deep discussion just down the hallway. The engineer was getting emotional, waving his printouts, gesturing wildly and pointing at a room marked Lab. In contrast, Roger listened seriously, his body taut, but his expression calm. And when the engineer finished speaking, Roger simply shook his head. Not surprisingly, the engineer got more frantic while Roger became more still. In the end, the engineer stormed off in a huff which left Roger time to look up and flash both Amber and Claire a rueful smile before moving down the hall.

Claire huffed. “Definitely gay.”

“Discreet, type A and hetero through and through.” Amber leaned back against the counter and sighed as a wave of memories hit. “Trust me on this. I know his type.”

Claire gave her an arch look, making sure to scan her shapeless sundress and cheap sandals. “I’m sure you think—”

“You think I grew up wearing flip-flops and a tank? I spent my youth dating guys like that. My father was an executive just like him. And my mother runs the cardiology ward at a top hospital. I was surrounded by the type.”

“And then?” Claire asked, obviously wondering how she’d gone from the silver spoon life to filling in as the plant girl.

Amber shrugged. “I burned out on the politics. I couldn’t get anything done except for what they wanted, so I went rogue. Doesn’t mean I don’t remember though. And let me tell you—sex with the alpha dog?” She sighed. “That’s one hot ride.”

Claire frowned, but then her eyes abruptly widened. “Wait a moment. I know you! Mary told me all about you.”

Amber winced. “Don’t believe everything Mary says.”

“No! She told me you’d be filling in. You’re that doctor! You run a free clinic out in that artsy area of Chicago. What’s it called?”

“Cherry Hills, not that there are any cherries or hills anywhere near. And it’s really not that artsy.” More like converted warehouses. The neighborhood artistes gloried in their studio lofts, but the population included more reformed drug addicts and single mothers than wannabe Picassos. Like her, everyone in Cherry Hills was just at the edge of poverty, struggling to keep it together.

“And you’re Doc Crystal!”

“My name’s Amber. They just thought it was a crystal and the name stuck…” she began, trying divert the discussion. But it was too late. Claire was off and running.

“Yeah! Doc Crystal. You’re like this doctor Robin Hood and Mother Teresa all rolled into one. Mary says you’re amazing!”

“Mary’s on massive painkillers. And I, um, gotta get back to these plants.” Amber turned away. She hated the hero worship that appeared in people’s eyes the minute they heard “free clinic” and “doctor” in the same sentence. That’s why she let people think she had a corporate background rather than high-end medicine. In her mind, they were one and the same, but for other people? There was a world of difference.

As for running a free clinic, her neighbor couldn’t afford a doctor, so he had come visiting one night. And then another neighbor and another. Before she knew it, she had regular patients. They didn’t care that she wasn’t affiliated with any hospital or clinic. They needed help she could give, and her services were free.

Meanwhile, Claire was following her around, her lips pursed in thought and a mercenary look in her eye. “How sure are you that Roger’s straight?”

Amber blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected the woman to ask. But she answered anyway. “One hundred percent straight.”

“Prove it.”

“What? How?”

“Think you could get him to kiss you?”

Amber frowned. Well, she’d been fantasizing about just that possibility for weeks now. She’d even figured out a way to approach him, but she’d never thought she’d actually implement the plan. But Claire wasn’t to be deterred.

“I’ll bet you a double mochaccino that you can’t.”

Amber laughed. “I don’t drink coffee.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t. Okay, how about this? I’ll get you a half-dozen of those big vegan muffins that Mary loves.”

Ooh, now there was a temptation. Amber had heard about those muffins. And truthfully, she had been thinking about arranging a meeting with Roger Martell for a while now. She thought RFE’s product line was very interesting and knew Jack might be intrigued as well. Yes, Jack, her once best friend and—a very, very long time ago—her lover. They’d kept in touch over the last two years. He’d call and try and tempt her back to Mandolin. She’d never been interested before, but now, thanks to near poverty, she was beginning to consider it.

She could meet with Roger, arrange for the introduction with Jack, and use the conversation to discreetly find out how things stood at Mandolin. She didn’t really want to admit it, but two years as a rogue researcher was wearing on her. Maybe if things had changed at the hospital, she’d consider going back.

And if she managed to wrangle a kiss from Roger at the same time, well, a girl could dream. She’d been two years out in the cold in her sex life, too. She knew just how to attract his attention, although she’d have to dig to the very back of her closet to find the clothes. And God only knew what had happened to her makeup. But still, it would be fun to play. Just a little kiss. What would be the harm?

“Well?” pressed Claire.

“Deal.”

3

ROGER WAS CURSING at his watch when Claire buzzed him. Then he cursed again at the buzz because it was after seven on a Friday and he had to leave.

“Hey, Roger, you have a moment? I’ve got someone who needs five minutes of your time.”

“This is a really bad time, Claire,” he said. “Sam’s bachelor party’s starting in less than an hour. I’ve got to—”

“Five minutes,” interrupted a woman’s voice that he’d never heard before. It was low and precise, like from a sexy accountant. A sexy accountant? What the hell was he thinking?

“I really haven’t—”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” the unknown woman said, and this time there was no accountant in the tone, just pure sex. “I’ve got some ideas about your newest product that I think could make both of us very happy.”

That caught his attention. RFE was desperate for new markets. Robotics companies couldn’t survive on building a walking, talking robot like most people imagined. No one could really afford something like that. But attach a robotic arm to a wheelchair, and suddenly things got more interesting. Connect high-tech robotics to a prosthetic, and amputees started expressing interest. And given the state of the economy, he couldn’t afford to turn away any possibilities.

“Five minutes,” he grumbled as he powered down his laptop. He’d talk to the woman as he prepared to leave for Sam’s party. The wedding wasn’t for a month yet, but packed schedules had pushed up the date to tonight. And as best man, Roger wanted to get there early to make sure everything was the way it ought to be. He’d ordered booze, strippers and the best nachos money could buy. Sam wouldn’t notice any of it—he was head over heels in love with Julie—but it was the principle of the thing. As best man, it was incumbent upon Roger to see that things were done right.

Then his thoughts stuttered to a halt as Claire showed a woman into his office. Not just a woman, but class in a pencil skirt and stiletto ankle boots. He straightened up from his desk to look closer. She was average height with light brown hair done up in a polished lift, but everything else about her throbbed with power. Not he-woman power, but corporate slick—the tasteful, expensive kind. Her suit and shoes were understated but of the finest quality. But what really got his attention was that she moved with a swaying precision that told him she could be completely business…or not.

And, wow, one part of him was very interested in the “not” side. Geez, even her scent—a simple lemon smell, he thought—had his dick lifting with desire. When was the last time that happened? No one had piqued his interest this fast since he’d first hit puberty. Thankfully, he was older now and could tell his libido to back down. At least he tried. Until she did the absolutely perfect move to pique his lust. She turned to Claire and smiled, instantly transforming her face from cool corporate to warm girl next door.

“Thanks, Claire. And thank you for the muffins,” she said as she lifted a box.

“They’re for Mary. You have to earn yours,” Claire returned with a grin.

“I know,” the woman answered.

Roger struggled to keep his libido from completely taking over his brain. “Um, sorry, but I really don’t have a lot of time,” he said as he snapped his briefcase shut. Then he cursed. He’d left his calendar out on his desk. He’d been searching through it, looking for a way to fit in a vacation. A couple days or a long weekend. Something. But he’d already looked three months out and he had nothing. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe he needed to quit his job. But the idea of doing that just killed him inside.

The woman handed over her business card. “I won’t take up much of your time, I swear,” she said.

Before he could answer, Claire spoke up. “I’ve got to get home, Roger. I’m going to lock up the front, so you’ll have to leave through the lab. You’re the last ones here, so kill the lights, too, okay?”

“No problem. Have a nice weekend,” Roger replied as he inspected his visitor’s business card. “Dr. Amber Smithson,” he read out loud. “From Mandolin Hospital and Clinic.” He looked up, intrigued. She sure as hell didn’t look like any doctor he knew, but then he’d never been to the prestigious Mandolin either. “What brings you to Chicago?”

The woman sat down in a chair and treated him to the delicious view of her skirt creeping up as she crossed her legs. The sight was so mesmerizing, he almost missed what she said.

“Oh, this and that,” she answered vaguely.

“Publicity, donations, benefit gala?” he asked. That was the usual reason someone like her came to Chicago. Just as he spent much of his time hitting those events, trying to connect up with the movers and shakers in medicine, looking for ways to get robotic equipment to the people who could benefit from it the most.

“Not this trip,” she said with a smile. “But you’ve managed to catch my eye nonetheless.”

He put his calendar inside his briefcase, then leaned a hip against his desk. “Okay, Dr. Smithson—”

“Amber, please.”

“All right, Amber. You’ve got my attention. What is it that you’re looking for?”

She arched a brow. “I have a friend who might be interested in a face-to-face with the power behind RFE. Your company has an interesting if rather scattered product line. But there are possibilities…”

He raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Sam’s not here right now, but I’m sure we could make an appointment…” His words trailed off as she arched a sculpted eyebrow.

“Please. I’ve heard about Mr. Finn. He might be the genius engineer, but you’re the corporate backbone. Trust me when I say I’d much rather be talking to you. He’ll have to come to the meeting, of course, but you’re the business guy. And as we both know, medicine is big business.”

He nodded slowly. It was true—all of it. Sam and he had been best friends since grade school, and together they had built RFE. But Sam was the visionary. Roger was the business guy who made it all come true. “You seem to know a lot about my company.”

Her smile was slow, but no less seductive. “I did my research. You’ve got quite the interesting place here.”

Wow, she was beautiful when she smiled. He wasn’t even sure exactly what had him so hot. Piece by piece, she was not drop-dead gorgeous. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup to speak of. But she had a glow about her, a warmth and a vitality that really grabbed hold of him.

Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

His watch alarm interrupted an extremely inappropriate train of thought. Thank God. He tapped the button, then smiled his apology to Dr. Amber Smithson. She nodded, pushed to her feet in a single lithe motion and extended her hand. “You have to go. It was good to meet you, Mr. Martell.”

“How long are you in town?” he suddenly asked. He didn’t have time for an elaborate dance of maybe this, maybe that. But he could invest an evening or two.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she answered. “This is kind of a spur-of-the-moment diversion for me.” She glanced at him, her look significant, though damned if he understood why. “My interest in your company is real, Mr. Martell, but I do have an ulterior motive. I hope you’re okay with that.”

He laughed. He already knew she had an ulterior motive. No woman who looked like her landed in his lap for no reason. There was always a price tag attached. “We’re in the preliminary dance. I got that.” He looked at his watch again. “And I also have to go.”

“Of course,” she said. “Okay if I walk out with you?”

He smiled. “Fine with me. I’ll show you the executive elevator.”

She preceded him out of his office door. “I’m all aquiver.”

Maybe, he thought with a grin, and maybe not. The “executive elevator” was really a lab elevator, extra large with no frills attached. It was used for moving heavy equipment, but it was also fast, private and emptied out near his car.

He watched her closely for her reaction to the stripped-down conveyance. Would she turn up her lip at the lack of polished brass and glass?

Nope. When the elevator doors opened and revealed its undignified glory, she merely raised her eyebrows in surprise then flashed him her warm smile. Like the one she’d given Claire earlier, it was filled with humanity and amusement. As if he were getting a glimpse of the woman beneath the suit. And it was a glimpse that he liked.

They entered the elevator and while he hit the button for the garage, she tapped her toe on the rubber flooring. “Frills on the outside, no nonsense on the inside. I’m liking your company more and more, Mr. Martell.”

“Glad to hear—”

Grind.

That was the elevator gears, making a horrible sound. It was loud and grating, and they both looked up in anxious surprise.

Thunk!

The elevator dropped a half inch and stopped with a jerk.

He stumbled slightly, but kept his footing. Dr. Smithson, on the other hand, had on stiletto heels. She practically fell over. He caught her, of course. What else would any red-blooded man do? She grabbed his arms, he tightened his grip and a split second later they were full-body pressed together. He had the predictable reaction, especially when she looked up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“What just happened?” she gasped.

It took an effort to separate his mind and his libido, but eventually he managed it. She’d recovered her footing, so there was no need for him to be pressed up against her. But, damn, she felt so soft and womanly. He had to force himself to straighten his arms and step away.

He already knew by feel that the elevator was dead, but he crossed to the panel and pushed the button anyway. Then he switched to pressing the call button for building maintenance. Except it was after seven on a Friday night. No one was around to answer.

With a soft curse, he whipped open his BlackBerry and hit the first number in his speed dial. Sadly, his best friend was no more responsive than building maintenance. Hell. When the call went to voice mail, he grumbled a quick, “Sam! We’re stuck in your damned elevator. Call me and tell me how to fix this now!” Then he shut the phone with an angry clench of his fist, his mind already scrambling to worst-case scenarios. He was going to miss the bachelor party. He might very well be stuck in this elevator all night. One look at his companion, and he found that he couldn’t quite call that a loss. But he had yet to see how she reacted under stress. A woman like her had to have evening plans.

She stared back at him, her lips already curving into a rueful grimace. “You’re joking, right? We’re stuck here? Seriously?”

“Sam’s been tinkering with this thing. Wanted to make some special modifications before the wedding next month.” He held up his hand. “Don’t ask because I don’t know. I’m the stupid one here, engineering-wise. The point is that no one is available to rescue us, most especially not my best friend who is headed to his bachelor party across town. A party, I might add, that I’m hosting but am now going to miss unless I can get said best friend to answer his phone.”

“Wow,” she said as her eyebrows rose and her eyes lit with humor. “Wow, that really sucks.” Except it didn’t sound like she was upset. In fact, if anything, it looked like she was on the verge of laughter.

He arched a brow. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

“No, no,” she said. “The universe does work in interesting ways, doesn’t it?”

“Um, what?”

She lifted her face toward him, and it was definitely true. She was holding back great big belly laughs. “You’re telling me that we’re trapped here, alone in this elevator, with no one in the building. In fact, we’re probably stuck here for like an hour or more.”

He frowned at her, wondering if this was a weird stress reaction. It didn’t seem like that, but he’d never met a business woman who laughed at a schedule change. Their life—his life—was built too tight for that.

“Well,” he said, “I know I could call 911 or something, but as this is Sam’s private elevator, I’d hate to have them bust through a panel when Sam probably can just phone me a fix.”

“No, no,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t bother.” Her voice was still trembling with laughter.

“I don’t understand—”

She abruptly stepped closer and pressed her fingers to his lips, cutting off his next words. “You don’t have to understand, Mr. Martell. I think the universe is just arranging things for me. Which makes me feel incredibly guilty because I haven’t exactly been honest with you.”

He did not like the sound of that. Straightening, he gently but firmly removed her hand from his face. His libido objected strongly, but at this particular moment, his brain was in charge. “I don’t like lies, Dr. Smithson.”

“I don’t blame you.” She flashed a rueful smile. “And I haven’t lied so much as not confessed my ulterior motive.”

He folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow. “Yes?”

“It has to do with a bet.”

4

“DID YOU KNOW THAT Claire thinks you’re gay?” Amber pushed the words out in a rush, and she wasn’t surprised when it took a moment for Roger to process the information. But when he did, his body jerked in shock.

“What?”

She could see his mind spinning a mile a minute, so she rushed out her side of the story before he could imagine something worse. “She said you were gay, I said no way and so we have a bet going.”

He gaped at her, but as she expected, he caught up quickly. “This is a seduction? Did you tamper with the elevator?”

His tone was less than flattering, and she reacted purely on instinct. “Of course not!”

His eyes narrowed. “To which? The seduction or the tampering?”

She grimaced, but he had her there. She hadn’t meant this to be a seduction—well, not in an elevator at this particular moment—but this had been an elaborate game of foreplay. “I’m a doctor, not an engineer. I wouldn’t know how to stop an elevator if my life depended on it.”

He wasn’t fooled. “And the seduction?”

“It was just for a kiss,” she confessed. “And now I’ve told you without making any moves. I just…I just thought it was funny that the universe somehow maneuvered us into a stalled elevator at just the right time.” Her words trailed away on a lame note. Great. Some seductress she’d turned out to be. Meanwhile, his eyes weren’t narrowed anymore. His expression was more one of deep thought.

“What was the prize?”

She blinked. Beyond getting to kiss the alpha executive? “Um…” She pointed to the box of baked goods. “More of those.”

He snorted. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Seriously, my kisses are worth a box of muffins?”

“Well, they are vegan muffins,” she clarified.

“Does that make it better or worse?”

She smiled. Okay, so he wasn’t furious. Which left them exactly where? She might have called everything off when she was in her shapeless sundress and hemp sandals. But she was dressed for success right now, in her last surviving power suit. Clothes did make a difference and part of her really missed the woman who was climbing the Mandolin corporate ladder, seeing a zillion patients and trying to change the course of medicine one closed mind at a time. She’d had purpose then, and she’d been helping people. What had she done lately but feed her own intellect?

“Are you even a doctor?” he asked.

She nodded. “And I really did work at Mandolin.”

At his skeptical look, she reached into her purse. She didn’t have a fancy BlackBerry like she’d once had permanently attached to her body, but she did have a massively cheap prepaid. She dialed the number from memory, then put it on speaker so that Mr. Martell could hear the conversation. The switchboard answered on the second ring.

“Mandolin Hospital, how may I be of service?”

“Please connect me to Dr. Jack Ross. It’s Dr. Amber Smithson about a consult.” Then she rattled off his extension.

Across from her, Roger frowned and looked at his watch. Amber just laughed.

“We always stayed late on Friday nights. We shut our doors, pretended we’d gone home, then got a ton of work done. Plus, it covered for the fact that we had no social life except for our jobs.”

As expected, Jack answered on the second ring.

“Amber?” A low voice rumbled through the line. “Has a miracle happened? Have you finally decided to give up all your pie-eyed idealism? I’ve been working on the director since you left. He might be open to you coming back, but only if you schmooze him right.”

Amber barely held back her smile. This was exactly what she wanted to hear. But she couldn’t seem too eager, so she glanced at her elevator companion. “Hello, Jack. Look, I’ve got you on speaker with a Roger Martell of RFE. That stands for Robotics For Everyone.”

As she spoke, Roger pulled out his BlackBerry. A glance at his screen showed that he was looking up Jack’s pedigree. A second later his eyebrows rose. Yup, Jack was one impressive neurologist. But more important, his work with amputees made him an ideal consultant to a robotics company.

Jack was groaning into the phone. “Jeez, Amber, not another robotics firm. I’ve got them coming out of my ears.”

“Would I steer you wrong? Just give them an hour. Let them prove their worth.”

Jack took a long time to answer, but in the end, he groaned his agreement. “Fine. I have an hour first Tuesday next month. Bring him then.”

She grinned at Roger. “It’ll be two of them. Roger Martell and Sam Finn—”

“And you, Amber. You bring them in person or not at all.”

Perfect. Exactly what she’d wanted in the first place. “Fine,” she said with a pretend show of reluctance. “If that’s the only way.”

“Tuesday at three. With you or not at all.” With that, Jack cut the connection.

Amber exhaled and slowly clicked her phone shut. She didn’t know what to think about what she’d just done. It felt like the outfit, plus having her hair piled on top of her head again, had somehow put her back in time. She was Dr. Smithson again, thinking nothing of scheduling a meeting halfway across the country. It felt strange, but also good. She’d never felt more powerful than when she was in this mode. It was seductive, this feeling, and she worried that she was compromising too much. Then she remembered her bank account and knew that some compromises were necessary.

Meanwhile, Roger was looking at her as a man might take the measure of a cobra. “So you’re on the level,” he said, though it came out part question.

“That part was real, yes.”

“And the seduction part?” he prompted, his tone annoyingly neutral.

She shrugged, but she couldn’t resist putting a little attitude into the movement. She’d never had to beg for sex before, she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “As I said, the universe works in mysterious ways.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

He paused, his eyes too dark, his expression very intense and completely unreadable. And then he took a slow step forward. “And you think I’m gay.”

“That was Claire. I’m betting a half-dozen vegan muffins on straight.” She arched a brow. Any man with his looks would have an ego to go with it. And, my, she loved teasing a man with an ego. “Straight, hard and so hot sometimes even you can’t stand it.”

His lips curved in a predatory smile. “Takes one to know one.”

She laughed, the sound coming out low and throaty without her consciously willing it. “Just because I recognize a fellow playmate doesn’t mean I’m going to dance in your sandbox.”

“And yet you made a bet with Claire, dressed up all pretty for me and strutted your way into my office.”

“I didn’t stop the elevator. Maybe you did.”

He shook his head, and she would swear his eyes glittered with sexual intent. “How does a single kiss prove that I’m straight?” He moved closer, his attitude part anger, part dominance and all male. It was only years of training that kept her standing still. Most women would be backing up as he tightened the distance between them. Within a moment she could feel the heat of his breath across her skin.

“That was the bet,” she said. “One kiss. If you want to fake it, that’s up to you.”

“I’m not going to fake anything,” he growled.

The air seemed to tingle as it entered her lungs, and her skin flushed with heat. Without even planning it, her chin shot up and she met him stare for stare. But she couldn’t speak as he came so close to her lips.

“One kiss?” he whispered. He brushed his mouth against her cheek in what was definitely a kiss. It made her whole body shiver. “Was that a kiss?” he asked. He shifted to nip the tip of her nose. “Or how about this?”

Finally, he made it to her mouth. While she held her breath in anticipation, he brushed a single, long, thorough kiss across her lips. No tongue, just his lips. And it was the hottest thing she’d experienced in nearly two years.

He was toying with her, getting her hot without fulfilling her bet or her personal hunger. This was what came of playing with an alpha dog. But she wasn’t without skills of her own.

“Yes,” she whispered, as she stretched up on her toes to let her breath warm his mouth. “That’ll count.” Then she forced herself to drop back on her heels and step away.

He arched his brow at her, a challenge in his eye. “Glad I could be of service. You let me know if you need some more proof.”

She grinned. “Is that an invitation to play?”

She watched him pause a moment, and then his expression slid to pure male. “Yeah, it is. Did you have something else in mind?”

And there was the gauntlet thrown down in challenge. Did she have the nerve to pick it up? It had been two years since she’d played any type of sex game with anyone. Two years since she’d put on stilettoes and done up her hair. Two years of burying her nose in every type of bizarre holistic treatment she could find. And none of it had been as fun as this moment right now. So did she go for it? All the way?

How could she not? After two years, she was beyond ready.

She stretched her hands up in the air and slowly pulled out the pins holding her hair in place. She knew he was watching her, so she worked as slowly and as seductively as possible. And then, when she was sure he was good and caught, she flashed him a wink. “There’s a Tantric game I’ve always wanted to play,” she said.

He swallowed, but that was the only indication she’d affected him. Well, that and the bulge down below. “A game?” he rasped.

She stepped right up to him, leaned in close and moved her lips to his left ear. She even pressed a hand to his chest so she could feel his heart beat under her palm.

“He who comes first, loses.”

He released a growl, low in his belly. Like a great beast coming awake after a long sleep, and at the sound, she knew she had him.

“Sounds like a good game,” he said as his hands slid around her waist. “You think I’m going to play with you? You think I’m going to risk a potential deal with Mandolin just to get you in bed?”

“I do.” She nipped at his earlobe with her teeth.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I got your attention,” she said as she thumbed open two buttons on his dress shirt and slipped a finger inside. There was a light dusting of hair there, just enough to be manly without detracting from the muscle she felt beneath his skin.

“Lots of women get my attention.”

His hands began creeping upward toward her breasts. Her nipples tightened and her breath caught and held. She’d forgotten how hot this was. How absolutely incredible it was to just let go.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one stuck in an elevator with you.”

He chuckled and the rumble of his body was like a low throb in her own. “True.”

And then there was a moment’s pause. His hands stilled, and so did her own. They both stopped teasing, stopped tempting, stopped everything as a single question filtered through the air: Were they really going to do this? His gaze caught hers and they communicated silently. Was this worth the risk?

“Do you have a condom?” he asked.

“In my purse.” Then she glanced around the freight elevator. “Any cameras?”

“Nope. And I’ve got a clean bill of health.”

“Me, too.”

His smile was slow in coming, but it was all the more devastating because of it. The man was potent. His nostrils had flared, his hands were strong and he was physically backing her up against the wall. And just when she thought he’d pounce, he held himself back and waited while her breath stuttered in and out of her chest.

“He who comes first loses?” he asked.

“That’s the game.”

“And what do I get if I win?”

She let her hands slide down until she was stroking the very long, large length of him. “You get invited to round two.”

“I like the sound of that.” He paused for effect, then moved an inch closer. “Game on.”

He wasn’t subtle in going for it, not that she expected him to be. His hands slid to the back of her skirt and, within a second, she felt the zipper slide down, then her skirt dropped to the floor. She was standing in her thong and thigh-highs. If she were going to back out, this was the one move guaranteed to make her run for the hills.

She didn’t. In fact, she kicked the fabric away while she undid the buttons on his shirt. She meant to act strong but her fingers were trembling and she fumbled with the last buttons. Or perhaps it had more to do with the way he was stroking her thighs, running his fingertips along the edge of her hose before cupping her backside.

God, he had good hands, firm and large enough to support her as she wrapped one leg around him to pull him tight. So they could press heat to heat despite the fabric between them. Lord, he felt so good that she thought about impaling herself right then and there. She wanted him deep inside her; she wanted to be stretched to the very limit.

With that thought in mind, she went to the button of his trousers, but her fingers were too clumsy and there wasn’t enough space as he pushed her firmly against the padded wall. A second later, he was pressing his full body against hers, trapping her fingers. Her hands were useless as he began to thrust, groin to groin, over and over in a steadily building rhythm.

Oh, unfair! she thought. Her hands were pinned but his were free to pop open the buttons of her blouse. The black lace bra beneath had a front clasp, and so it took no time at all for him to free her breasts. He filled his hands with her and began to squeeze in just the right ways. She let her head drop back as hunger shuddered through her body.

Her heart thrummed, her skin flushed hot and her breath came in tight gasps as he manipulated her nipples. She didn’t remember ever having the desire build so fast before. He couldn’t be able to make her come without even pulling down his pants!

He bent down to put his mouth on her breasts. She knew without a doubt that if he was as skilled there as he seemed to be everywhere else, then she’d lose their little game within seconds. He was that good—or it had been that long for her. Either way, she wasn’t going to give up that easily. With a sudden surge of strength, she freed her hands and shoved him away.

He stumbled backward. Not far, but enough that she could take some measure of control back. Dispensing with the niceties, she grabbed either side of his shirt and yanked. Buttons popped off and his shirt was halfway down his arms in a single motion.

His eyes widened as he looked down at first himself, then at her. “That is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.

She grinned. She’d guessed he liked women who could match him power for power. Clearly she was right. With another yank, she had the shirt all the way down to his wrists, but the cuffs caught and held.

“Take it off the rest of the way,” she ordered, “or I’ll just rip it.”

He shook his head, his white teeth flashing again. “You’re not that strong.”

She arched her brow. “It’ll hurt.”

His grin widened, so she took the challenge. She jerked as hard as she could, but the fabric was stronger than she expected. As she was busy hauling on his shirt, he used her movement to spin her around and trap her backward against his chest. And worse, his shirt now held her captive whereas he had an arm free to stroke her.

If it were only his free hand caressing her shoulder, her breasts, her belly, she would have had less trouble resisting him. But then he did something no man had ever done to her before. His lips found the back of her neck. Not just the base of her skull but lower along her spine, as his chin pushed her blouse aside.

She felt his breath across her skin, the stroke of his lips as he teased her flesh, and then the slight scrape of teeth before the soothing circle of his tongue. On her neck and all the way down to between her shoulder blades. Her entire nervous system went limp with delight. God, never before had a man found that zone and used it to his advantage like that.

The wave was upon her before she even knew it was coming. She cried out in shock as she lost control of her body. Waves of pleasure rolled through her. They were sudden and wild and the best orgasm she’d had in years.

Thank God, he held her through it all, his arms firm, his stance solid. She might have collapsed onto the floor in an undignified, boneless heap otherwise. But he was a gentleman, supporting her as she writhed in his arms. And when she finally recovered, when she at last found enough strength to settle her feet beneath her, only then did she look up to his face. He’d won their bet, and so she expected to see a very male smirk. She didn’t. His expression was open in surprise. She might even have said he looked dazed.

She twisted, her legs still wobbly. But before she could ask her question, he swooped down to kiss her. It was a deep kiss, but it was also gentle, almost reverent.

“You’re amazing,” he said. “That was…amazing. I’ve never seen a woman look so hot when she comes.”

She didn’t know how to answer. After all, she was the one who’d just come without even stepping out of her thong. He was the one with the incredible mouth. And now, when she was obviously speechless with shock, his smile did shift to a cat-ate-the-canary grin. And then he slowly unwound her from his shirt.

“Name it,” he said when she was standing directly before him.

She blinked. “Name what?”

“The time and place for round two.”

5

ROGER DIDN’T TRY to hide his grin as Amber struggled to find her dignity. She needn’t bother. He thought her the sexiest thing alive just as she was. She had that cool exterior, but she’d come apart in his arms. Just from what he’d done to her neck. And didn’t that just make him feel like a major stud?

It didn’t even bother him that he had a boner the size of the Sears Tower. He was beyond happy—and that was the most bizarre thing given that they were still trapped in this damn elevator.

Meanwhile, Amber blinked at him, her eyes wide with shock. “I never…” she began. “I mean, it’s been a while, but never before…” She shook her head, put her hands to her red cheeks and groaned. “I don’t know what to say.”

She looked so vulnerable that he reached out a finger and stroked just below her left ear. It was all he could touch behind her hands. “You don’t have to say anything. It was great. Seriously.”

Her hands fell away, and she frowned at him. “Okay, so you are gay.”

He blinked, his vision of himself as a male stud disappearing by the second. “What?”

“To put it in Claire’s words, no man is that virtuous unless he’s gay.”

He laughed. He hadn’t meant to, but just the idea that they had been taking bets on his sexuality seemed funny to him. He was so not gay. And to prove it, he grabbed hold of her hand and pressed it hard against his length.

God, that felt good. She knew how to hold a man, even through his trousers. Right pressure, right stroke. His breath shuddered through him and his eyes practically rolled back in his head.

“Not gay,” he said. “Want me to prove it?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and his eyes snapped open. Her skin was still flushed, but there was definite hunger in her eyes. “God, yes,” she repeated when he just stared at her.

He didn’t stop this time. He didn’t hold himself back, and he sure as hell didn’t go easy on her. He had her pressed up against the wall in a second. Her blouse was still open, her bra swinging free, so he could have filled his hands with her breasts. He wanted to fill his hands with her breasts because she had great ones. But his hands were too busy dropping his trousers.

Thankfully, she was helping him, her hands shaking as much as his. And when his pants and boxers finally dropped to his ankles, they both released a moan of pleasure.

Her thong was in the way, and he started to peel it down. But she grabbed him by the ears—ouch!—and pulled him eye to eye.

“I ripped yours,” she said.

He grinned. “As you wish.” Then he grabbed both edges of the lacy elastic and pulled. She watched him do it, her eyes lit with joy.

“That is so hot!” she breathed. Then when he was going to go right back to her, she pressed a hand to his chest. “Condom.”

He bent down to his pants and pulled his wallet out, flipping it open to the appropriate pouch. But again she stopped him with a touch, this time on his wrist.

“How long has that been in there?”

He frowned a moment, thinking back. Erg. Much too long. Sure, he had dates with hot women, but it’d been over a year since he’d brought one home with him. “Better go with yours.”

She leaned down to get her purse, and he almost came right there. Even though she’d bent her knees in a rather demure pose considering she was naked in all the important parts, he could see the pink rounded curves of her bottom, and knew just how fabulous it would feel to flip her around and drill her from behind.

He didn’t. That would be crass. And besides, he didn’t have the condom on yet. But he could imagine and stroke those luscious curves as she moved.

She was still bent down when she turned to pass him the foil packet, giving him a mischievous wink. “Like what you see?” she asked. And then, damn if she didn’t extend her legs slowly while keeping her head down. Good God, she was flexible!

His hands were shaking as he suited up in record time. To hell with crass. She was giving him the choice, and he took it. It was only a half step to position himself, and then—yes!—a single, deep thrust and he was embedded inside her.

She gasped, her back arching beautifully. But then she gripped him. A long, low squeeze that started at his base and rolled up to the tip. Tight and hard and where had she learned to do that? He made a sound that might have been a growl, and she chuckled right before she did it again.

That was it. His brain fuzzed completely out and there was no stopping him. He grabbed hold of her hips and began to pump. He meant to pay more attention to her pleasure—God knows, he meant a lot of things—but he had no control. Not when she kept squeezing him like that.

And then, sweet heaven, she tumbled over the edge. She arched and cried out. Her grip became impossibly tight before she began to milk him in a strong pull. He slammed into her one last time, then erupted like never before. Holy cow, he even blacked out for a moment. And the pleasure of that release was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Heaven. Pure heaven!

But it didn’t last. It never did. Joy, ecstasy, even that sweet moment of unconsciousness faded away almost instantly. His mind kicked in, his thought resurfaced, and suddenly he realized he was leaning against the wall of a freight elevator still embedded in a woman he’d just met a half hour ago.

God, what was he thinking?

He took a deep breath, trying to gain some control. But even though his brain had kicked back in, his body still needed time to recover. It took a few more breaths before he could lean forward and help Amber stand. She was rather boneless, even in this position, but she moved easily enough. And he, sadly, slipped out of her as they adjusted.

“Mmm,” she murmured as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I take it back. You’re not gay. And if you are, I don’t want to know about it.”

“I’m not gay,” he said with a chuckle. “And I gotta know—does that count as round two or do I get to see you again?” The words were out before his brain could stop him. Did he even want to see her again? Sure, the sex was great, explosive even. But no guy was this lucky. Fabulous, no-strings-attached sex with a woman who looked like her? A woman who could bend over and kiss her own ankles? This was a setup for sure. He just didn’t know for what.

She started chewing on her bottom lip. She was uncertain and feeling awkward. Somehow that reassured him. A setup wouldn’t look as sweetly embarrassed as she did.

“I—I, um,” she stammered. “I think that was round two. This, uh, this isn’t really who I am anymore,” she said, gesturing to her thigh-highs and stiletto heels.

He shrugged, his suspicions starting to ease. “It’s not who I am either, but damn…”

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” With repartee like that, he was losing his Mr. Stud status fast. He scrambled to think of something to say that wasn’t lame. “Look, we don’t have to make it into something big. Just dinner. Very safe. Very casual.”

She didn’t answer. She began pulling on her skirt and he abruptly felt stupid standing there with his boxers at his ankles. So they both got busy readjusting themselves until they were facing each other fully dressed, and another awkward silence descended.

“So you’re a doctor, huh?” And again, he failed to find anything clever to say.

“Um, yeah. Well, no, not really. I mean, there’s an MD behind my name but…” She sighed and shrugged. “It’s kinda complicated.”

He gestured to where they were, stranded in a freight elevator. “I’ve got some time. How about you?”

“Uh, yeah.” She released a laugh. “Okay, personal history—the short version. I used to be this person. I used to be Mandolin Hospital, working toward management, fancy doctor with all the trimmings. Except I never made it. I had this desire to learn about stuff Western medicine didn’t encompass. In the end…” She shrugged. “I had to choose.”

“And you chose what exactly?”

“Research. The truth is that I have a fundamental need to explore, and the administration had a fundamental need to make me toe the line. I hit a moment when I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

He folded his arms across his chest and studied her face. He didn’t see any signs of outright deception, but she damn well wasn’t telling the whole story. No one upended their lives like that without something major happening.

“So you came to Chicago to do what? Let me guess, was there a guy involved?”

“Definitely no guy—I’d broken up with my last boyfriend at least a year earlier. And frankly, I’ve always been too focused on medicine for relationships. No, I came out here to visit Mary.”

When he frowned, not placing the name, she filled in the clues for him.

“She’s your plant lady. The one with rheumatoid arthritis. Those muffins are for her,” she said, pointing to the box on the floor.

“Ah. Right. Sorry.” He remembered, he just couldn’t put a face to the name.

“Anyway, she was one of my first patients a long time ago. So when I hopped into my car and started driving, I ended up on her doorstep. And then I stayed.”

“Doing what?”

“Besides filling in for her?”

She waited a moment, studying his face for something. In the end, he just raised his hands in surrender. “What am I missing?”

“I’m the fill-in plant lady. You saw me this afternoon after your lunch appointment.” As he continued to stare, her lips curled up in a smile. “I knew you didn’t recognize me. Picture me like this…” She lifted her hair into a ponytail. “Now add a shapeless sundress and hemp sandals.”

It took him a moment, but he got there. And he felt his eyes widen in shock. “Oh, my God! That’s you? The baggy plant lady I see sometimes? The one who could be pretty if she just made an effort?” He bit his tongue, then gestured to her clothing. “But then I guess you already know that you’re gorgeous when you make the effort.”

She waved off the compliment with a too-casual gesture. “I happen to think I’m beautiful even when I don’t make the effort. Beauty comes from within.”

Roger shook his head. “In your case, beauty comes from inside and outside.”

She took the compliment gracefully with a regal nod of her head, but something still didn’t sit right. He leaned forward.

“So you’ve given up medicine all together? Just to water plants?”

She shook her head. “No, no. Like I said, I do research. And before you ask, it’s not the kind of research you’re thinking of. No laboratory funded by a pharmaceutical grant. No Ph.Ds and definitely no Bunsen burner in sight.”

He nodded like he understood her. Which he didn’t. “So what kind of research?”

“New age.”

It took him a moment to process her words. And even then it was another moment beyond that. Meanwhile, she was cringing. Not obviously. Just a little, as if she expected him to start mocking her. He didn’t. During his mother’s last year, she’d explored crystals and aromatherapy and more. He never saw that it made any difference except to her. It gave her something to focus on before her death, something to explore. In many ways, he believed it gave his mother some peace before the end. In fact, when she’d finally died, he’d thought she was just meditating there for a moment.

“So you’re researching the effects of what? Crystals? Acupressure? Qigong?”

She straightened, obviously surprised that he hadn’t started laughing. “I tried those. They haven’t produced the results I’m looking for. So I’m looking at other modalities now.”

“Such as?”

“Energy healing. No needles. No herbs or crystals. Just—”

“Prayer.”

She shrugged. “Some people call it that.” She tilted her head. “You sound like you know something about it.”

“My mother spent the last year of her life on alternative healing. I got the tour along with her.”

“And?” she pressed. “You don’t seem to be dismissive of it, even though she died.”

He lifted his hands, trying to find a way to express his thoughts. “I didn’t expect a cure, and I don’t think she did either. And I have my own health issues that are making me think about alternative methods lately.” He had, in fact, spent half his afternoon searching the internet for some sort of blood pressure treatment. Something that a hospital couldn’t offer.

Her lips curved in a soft smile. “An open mind. I like that.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “You know, I’m beginning to think the universe does work in mysterious ways.” Because right here, right in front of him might be the answer to his prayers. But just in case he was wrong, he tried to think logically about it. He started tallying up facts in his brain.

His blood pressure was out of control. So out of control, he might have to quit his job.

He’d exhausted all the options that modern medicine could offer.

She was a doctor, but was serious about alternative methods and sounded like she took a scientific approach.

He needed to find a cure. Maybe she had the answer.

“So,” he said, feigning casualness, “find any therapies that work?”

She nodded, the most confident movement she’d made during the entire discussion. “I think so, yes.”

“Okay then,” he said, coming to a quick decision. “I’m game. Let’s do it.”

She blinked, obviously not following him. He didn’t blame her. It’s not like he had explained where his brain had taken him.

He smiled. “You’re a former doctor doing scientific research into energy healing.”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m a patient who’s looking for some nonstandard treatments. For high blood pressure. Really high blood pressure.”

She gaped at him. “What?”

“I want to hire you, Amber. For the magical mystery tour of energy healing. I’ll do whatever you want, however you want, so long as I don’t have to quit my job to do it.”

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