Hollywood Temptation Page 10

  Colt’s gaze hadn’t moved from her face. There was so many ways he wanted to answer that question. So many wrong ways. “It gets more complicated then. You move from being a patient to being an employee.” His head gave an almost imperceptible shake. “Also a no-go area.”

  She took a deep breath. “That takes us back to the three-week wait.”

  It was logical. It made sense. But he so didn’t want to wait three weeks to get his hands on Selena. He wanted to reach across the table and grab her right now, rip her shirt off, and send those damn buttons scattering all around them. Did she really want to wait?

  She turned her chair slightly, stretched out her legs, and crossed them. He was conscious of her as she watched his gaze follow the length of her leg to the raised hemline of her dress. Oh, she was good.

  She picked up her glass and stared out the window. “Rules, rules. What’s the old saying? Rules are made to be broken?” She was playing with fire here. “There’s always an exception to rules.”

  Colt leaned forward. “Such as?”

  “Well, let’s remember I’m a temporary employee.” She ran her finger around the edge of her glass. “Are the rules for temporary employees identical to the ones for permanent employees?” She gave a little smile. “On second thought, I’m not an employee at all—you’re not paying me a salary. I guess that makes me a volunteer.”

  Their eyes met.

  The place was sizzling. And it was nothing to do with the temperature.

  “I guess I’ll need to look into that.” His voice was measured.

  “I guess you will.” She nodded her head.

  His pager sounded and he glanced down, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry Selena. I’m needed upstairs.” He stood up and straightened his jacket. “I’ll take out your stitches later, okay?”

  She gave a brief nod and he strode across the restaurant as quickly as he could.

  Three weeks? Not a chance.

  …

  One week later, her wound was almost healed and the clinic was having a small revival. Colt’s phone calls had clearly worked, because she couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of phone calls coming that morning. “Hold on and I’ll check the availability for you.”

  Selena flicked up the screen for the cottage reservations and nearly had an apoplexy. Every single one was red for the week in question. Booked solid.

  All the tiny hairs on her arms stood on instant alert. Her breath caught in her throat. Where on earth would she stay?

  “Give me a second, please,” she murmured to the client at the end of the phone who’d decided having liposuction next week was a life or death matter.

  She flicked through the bookings. There was no way she’d done all these. Her initials were next to three of them, but there was another set of initials next to the others. Her heart clenched. Helen’s personal assistant. She must have made the bookings.

  And it wasn’t as if she knew Selena was currently living between the cottages, so she had no reason to keep one free. This was a business after all, and the clinic was here to make money.

  It was almost as if a cold wind blasted across her neck and her palms start to sweat. Her heart thudded in her chest and her mouth was instantly dry. Where was a bottle of water when she needed it? This was a nightmare. Where on earth would she stay? Maybe she could put the client off—temporarily, of course.

  Selena spoke into the phone. “I’m sorry about that. We have no availability for next week. Can I give you the following week?”

  She listened to the wailing at the end of the phone and resisted the temptation to slam it down. If only liposuction were the only thing she had to worry about.

  She was going to have to bring all her things over to the spa. But where could she stash them? There was a cupboard on this floor for admin supplies but people were in and out of it all day. Maybe the lockers downstairs—but the clients used them, too. This was a nightmare.

  The noise finally ended. “So the fourteenth is suitable? No problem. I’ll book you in.” She clicked on one of the cottages to book it for three days and then looked around her.

  Helen must have been deadly serious about them working overtime to fill in the gaps in the clinic finances. She’d booked three extra surgeries, using up the cottages and making the staff work later into the evening.

  How was Selena going to make herself inconspicuous when everyone would be around her? Her skin prickled, the hairs standing on end. Where on earth would she sleep?

  And next week was only three days away. Could it get any worse? Yes, it could.

  “Hi, Selena, what’s that you’re doing?” Josh Ridgeway had schmoozed his way across the room, talking to two nurses and a filing clerk and was now perched at the edge of her desk, peering over her shoulder as she tried to input the work hours for the salaries.

  “What I’m supposed to be doing.” She clicked out of the file she was working on. There was nothing she hated more than someone reading over her shoulder.

  She glanced at the sheet in front of her. According to it, Josh had spent fifty hours at work. Selena was lucky if she’d seen him for ten of those. She blinked at his pay rate. He got almost double any of the spa staff wages, all for having no discernible skills.

  “I’m inputting the staff hours. Can I double-check your time sheet? I didn’t think you were here last Wednesday.” It was the most professional voice she could find, because she knew for sure that Josh hadn’t set foot in the clinic last Wednesday.

  There was the tiniest flicker of fear. This was Helen’s grandson. She was pretty sure the woman already didn’t like her. But Selena was only working here to pay back what she owed. She was only calling things as she saw them, and Josh was an expensive waste of space. It was a pity she couldn’t actually say that to him. Because she was beginning to think he was a con artist, too.

  She took a steadying breath. She’d asked a valid question. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  His eyes narrowed, and he thrust the paperwork back toward her. “Just fill in what’s on the sheet.”

  “Are you sure?” She kept her voice steady. She wasn’t going to call him a liar outright. But she wanted him to know she was on to him.

  Why should he get away with putting in fake hours because he was Helen’s grandson?

  She widened her eyes and tried to act innocent but looked him straight in the eye as she said the words. “I’m new at all this. And I have a responsibility to put the correct information into the system. I don’t want to do anything that could be regarded as fraudulent.” She pulled another paper out of the file. “I see you’ve got some expense claims in, too. Do you have receipts for these?”

  “Why would I need receipts?”

  She tilted her head to the side and explained, “I was given a strict list of instructions that I’m supposed to follow for every employee. There has to be proof for all expenses. The clinic needs them for tax returns.” She tried her best to look innocent. “No receipt. No expense claim.”

  Josh stood up. “Put the damn expenses through. Just do your job.” He looked over his shoulder and then raised his voice. “Oh, that’s right, aren’t you working here to pay off a debt? Maybe you should worry about that instead of sticking your nose into other people’s business.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

  Her chest burned. The little git was trying to humiliate her. The guy who was trying to claim for working fifty hours when he hardly worked at all, was trying his best to embarrass her.

  He’d clearly never met her before.

  “Believe it or not, Josh, I’ve got an MBA from Brown. And I also majored in accounts. Whilst my home finances might not be perfect, any work I do, is. And any work I do for this clinic, no matter what I’m paid, will be impeccable.”

  Rage flitted across his eyes when he opened his mouth to speak. “Listen to me—”

  “Is there a problem here?” Colt’s voice split through the tension-ridden air, cutting off Josh midsentence.

  “No. No pro
blem,” said Selena quickly as she pretended not to notice the puce color Josh’s face had turned. “I’m just trying to do the job I’m supposed to.” She smiled sweetly. “And I was reminding Josh he needs receipts for any expenses he claims; otherwise it can’t go through the business.”

  Colt gave her half a smile. “Sounds as if Selena’s completely on top of things.”

  Josh’s face was scarlet and sweat was beading on his brow. But he knew better than to try and throw his weight around in front of Colt.

  Selena took the opportunity to start tapping away wildly on the keyboard. “You’ll get back to me on those receipts then?” she called over her shoulder.

  Josh let out an expletive and stormed out, leaving Colt and Selena smiling at each other.

  “I love it when people are happy at work, don’t you, Colt?”

  Cot leaned forward and tapped the calendar that was sitting on her desk. “I’ve got more to think about,” he said huskily, “two weeks and counting.”

  Ever since he’d removed her stitches, the temperature between the two of them had risen. Every time they were in a room together the air practically buzzed with electricity. And although he hadn’t touched her, it felt as if they were both counting down the days until she didn’t work here anymore.

  A shiver of expectation ran down her spine as she watched his retreating back. “Two weeks,” she murmured. It seemed like a lifetime.

  In two weeks time he’d forget about her. Any minute now she’d have to confess to having nowhere to stay and virtually no money whatsoever. She’d mailed a check to Mark yesterday, and although she’d felt a certain amount of pride at paying a little of the money back, if she could get her hands on the mailman right now, she’d whip the envelope straight from his hands.

  Things were getting desperate here. This was all a facade. Sooner or later Colt would realize what a faker she was.

  And then?

  He wouldn’t be interested in her at all. Of that, she had no doubt.

  Chapter Seven

  Two days later Colt appeared at her shoulder again.

  “What are you doing over the weekend?”

  “Why? Do you need me to work?” If she paid her bill off quicker, the two-week countdown could be reduced. Or, he might actually want to spend some time with her. Now that would be interesting.

  Colt gave her that grin again. The one that unnerved her and made her legs turn to Jell-O. Yep. The tingles that appeared whenever he was around her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say right now there were a thousand butterflies dancing on her skin.

  Every conversation between them was laden with innuendo. Every lingered glance. Every little smile electrified the air around them.

  And she wasn’t imagining it. Lucille had asked her the other day if something was going on. For a few seconds she’d been uncomfortable and resisted the temptation to start babbling words of denial. Lucille was turning into her best friend around here, she didn’t want to tell her lies.

  Her final response, “Not yet,” had been met with a knowing smile, along with a few whispers from other staff nearby.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to come to a costume ball fund-raiser with me?”

  “A fund-raiser?”

  He’d asked her out. Actually asked her out.

  She was trying not to let her mouth hang open.

  Cool. She needed to play this cool.

  “It’s work related,” he added quickly.

  “Oh.” She felt the ice bucket start to dump all over her head. Maybe he wasn’t actually asking her out after all. Maybe she was only supposed to attend because she worked there.

  “A costume ball,” she murmured.

  Colt looked amused. “Yeah, you know, costumes? Dressing-up clothes? Don’t you have that type of thing in Scotland?”

  “Of course we do. But normally we do fancy dress at Halloween. We dress up and go out guising.”

  “What-ing?”

  “Guising—going around people’s doors, telling jokes, singing songs, and collecting sweets. That’s what we call it in Scotland.” She looked out the window at the blazing sun and laughed.

  He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Fancy dress. I like that expression.” He started to laugh. “So, it won’t be an initiation through fire?”

  He made it sound like a challenge.

  She shook her head. “Oh no. Us Scots girls have the whole realm of fancy dress down to a fine art. Who is having the party?”

  “Us. We do it every year in one of the hotels in Santa Monica to raise funds for Helen’s House.”

  She felt the blood start to drain from her body. A fund-raiser. In LA. They usually involved serious money. Something she didn’t have.

  But Colt didn’t notice. He was still talking. “Everyone from the clinic is expected to attend.”

  She couldn’t think straight right now. Her brain was on a washer cycle, spinning around and around. He wasn’t waiting the one week, five days they had left. It seemed good, but maybe she was reading something into it that he wasn’t—maybe this was just work related.

  “How much are the tickets?” She cringed when her voice almost came out as a squeak.

  Colt shook his head. “Oh, our staff doesn’t pay for their tickets. Each of the partners makes a contribution and the staff join in the festivities and mingle with the guests.” He leaned over the desk toward her. “So, Selena, are you up for it? Will you be my partner at the costume fund-raiser?”

  Partner. He’d asked her to be his partner. Now that was different. That wasn’t “all the staff are expected to attend.” Partner sounded much more exciting.

  And then there was relief at not having to spend money. Trouble was, if he’d told her it would cost ten thousand dollars, she’d probably still have said yes. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat. A fund-raiser in an expensive hotel with Colt Travers. Who wouldn’t want to be spend an evening in his company?

  “What about costumes?”

  “Is that a yes? And costumes? We can sort it all out later.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why? Do you have something handy? A warrior princess? A sexy devil? A wicked witch?”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “How big a deal is this dressing-up thing around here? Back home we used to wear whatever we could throw together.”

  Colt reached into his pocket. “I was hoping you’d say yes.” He picked up a pen and scribbled on a notepad. “Here’s the name of the place I normally use.”

  She glanced at the address and left the card on her desk. “Thanks, I’ll have a look.” At a costumer on Hollywood Boulevard? He must be joking.

  “Gotta run. Patients to see.”

  She watched his retreating back with a feeling of impending doom. She didn’t have a car to get to the costumers. She didn’t have money for a cab. Or money for a costume. And where was she going to get him to pick her up?

  She put her head on the desk. This was a bad idea.

  No. This was a very bad idea.

  One glimpse of his sexy smile and perfect white teeth and she’d turned to mush and said yes. This was ridiculous. She was going to have to find a way to get out of this.

  Lucille tapped her on the shoulder, her eyes were wide. “Did Colt just ask you out?”

  “I think so.” She wrinkled her brow. “Does he normally take a member of staff to the fund-raiser?”

  Lucille shook her head. “Oh no. He normally takes someone, but not a member of staff.”

  “Wow.” She put her head back on the desk. What did that mean? She squinted sideways. One of the nurses was looking at her kind of funny. What would the rest of the staff think? Did this mean something? Selena, the Scottish pauper with no fixed abode or income, had just been asked out by Colt Travers, gorgeous plastic surgeon extraordinaire. She was dreaming. Obviously.

  The nurse planted her hands on her slim hips. She rolled her eyes but smiled along with it. “There’s no point hitting your head on the desk. We all feel like th
at.”

  No, I don’t think so.

  The nurse pointed at the card in front of her. “And don’t go near that place.” She gave a fake shudder. “Last year I thought I was going to have to sell my family to get a costume there.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I went shopping in Santa Monica market and made my own. Much simpler. Much cheaper.”

  Selena’s mind was racing. She could make a costume. She’d helped her mother make her costume every year growing up. How hard could it be? Did that mean she was actually going to go?

  Lucille was still talking. “If you know what you want to go as, finding what you need for the costume is easy. If you want, you can come shopping after work with me in Santa Monica.” She winked at Selena. “With three nieces and two nephews, I’ve become an expert on how to thrift shop.”

  She started to push aside all her worries. The money issue could be addressed. She could make a costume on a shoestring budget. She could try and arrange a lift with someone else—that way Colt wouldn’t pick her up and she wouldn’t need to worry. After all, how often was she going to get a chance to go on a date with Dr. Gorgeous? She’d have to be a complete fool to give up an opportunity like this. Who knew what lay beneath the designer clothes and sexy flirtations? She couldn’t wait to find out.

  Selena nodded. “Thanks, Lucille. That would be great. I really appreciate it.”

  Lucille started back down the corridor. “Between now and then, you need to decide who you’re going to be.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got five hours, girl. Get thinking.”

  Selena smiled.

  She didn’t need to think. She had the perfect idea.

  Chapter Eight

  Costume party night and only ten days to go. Colt pulled up outside the clinic and spa. Selena had wanted to meet there, rather than have him pick her up at her apartment. She’d said something about wanting to work late to get things finished and then she’d shower in the spa and get ready there. He’d tried to shrug it off, even though it seemed odd to him. He glanced at his watch. He was right on time. She’d insisted he didn’t need to come in for her and to honk the horn and she’d come out.