Hollywood Temptation Page 7
In the world according to Magdalena, at least. She said it in every single interview that she had.
She shook her head. “That woman has been around the same age for the last twenty years.”
He laughed and leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “I think you mean thirty.” His lips brushed the side of her ear and his senses heightened as he inhaled the sweet vanilla fragrance she was wearing. Wow.
Selena shifted in her chair. She wasn’t sitting completely under the desk. It made her stance a little awkward but gave him a great view down the curve of her breasts.
Pretty women were an everyday occurrence for Colt. He’d spent his life surrounded by them. Selena? She was different. And he was curious about her. What had happened that she couldn’t pay her bill? Everything about today screamed “man trouble” to him. On the other hand, she looked like an independent woman who had just taken an opportunity. What other opportunities might she take? Was she kind of woman who liked casual flirtations? Or the kind who liked hot sex?
Damn it. He had to stop thinking like that. Helen would flay him alive if he got waylaid by someone who was a member of staff.
But Helen wasn’t there. They were the last members of staff in the clinic. And Selena was a big girl. Maybe he could get her to reveal a few of her secrets.
She rustled some papers in front of her. “I left a few letters on your desk that need your signature.”
Her eyes kept flickering back and forth to him and she was biting her lip. It was obvious she wanted to say something else. “What?” He folded his arms across his chest. “What is it?”
She tilted her head. “I noticed a few things in your office…”
“Such as?”
She spun her chair around so she was facing him, her arm brushing against his knee. There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she counted things off on her fingers. “Such as the Captain Picard figure next to your computer. The signed picture of Leonard Nimoy. The framed Firefly script on the wall, next to the Star Wars cast photo.” She leaned forward, “But what I really want to know is, is that a genuine Star Trek communicator you’ve got in the glass case?”
Unexpected. Totally left field. A fellow sci-fi freak. Fantastic. This woman just got better and better.
He laughed. “You’re every guy’s dream date, aren’t you?”
She started playing with the top button on her shirt, deliberately twiddling it between her finger and thumb, almost as if she were about to undo it… “Well, is it?”
He leaned forward. “You mean you didn’t try and pry the glass apart to see?”
“Of course I did. Any self-respecting Trekkie would.” She held up a finger to reveal a slightly bent nail. “Unfortunately I didn’t have my sonic screwdriver with me.”
He wiped his brow in mock relief. “Thank goodness. You have no idea what I had to do to get that.” He lifted his eyebrows, “Or who I had to operate on.”
Her eyes widened, the excitement clearly visible. “Spill,” she demanded.
He shook his head. “Oh no. My lips are sealed. I could tell you, but then I’d need to kill you with my genuine from-the-set light saber.”
She let out a shriek and jumped up from her seat. “You haven’t?”
“I have.”
“Luke’s or Darth Vader’s?”
He winked. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you. Hollywood secrets.”
There was something so nice about this. Someone else who appreciated his love of all things sci-fi. And this wasn’t some ploy to try and endear herself to him. No woman could possibly know all these things without being a true fellow fan.
Finally someone he could talk to about who was the best Star Trek captain, and which was the best Star Wars film.
The last woman he’d dated had given an obvious shiver of distaste when she’d seen his collection - the kind that made him feel like a high school geek. Not the most romantic turn-on in the world.
Selena collapsed into the chair next to him and threw her hands in the air. “If you’re not going to share, I’ll let you know right now I’ll find a way of making you talk.”
He laughed. “Told you, my lips are sealed.”
She shook her head. “I should be finishing up. I’m getting tired and want to get home and to bed.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Home to watch my favorite episode of Star Trek with the Borg.”
He tried not to grin. He couldn’t resist, no matter how hard he tried. “Do you always go to bed early, Selena? You don’t strike me as the type.”
The smell of her perfume was drifting into his nostrils. It was sultry. Something sensuous and spicy.
Their gaze met. That green again. Even in this dim light it was impressive. Kind of like the eyes you would expect on a temptress or a siren, wooing men in just by looking at them. He couldn’t stop smiling around her.
Nor could he stop the range of X-rated thoughts he was having about her.
Helen would kill me. Twice, without a second thought.
Then there was the fact she was paying off a bill and the fact she’d told him she’d just been dumped by her boyfriend. The last thing he wanted was a rebound fling.
But he wasn’t listening. Not at all.
There was a glint of fire in her eyes and a devilish grin on her face. She was an experienced woman. She definitely knew the art of flirtation. “What do I strike you as?”
He felt an instant response in his body—one that was entirely inappropriate for their surroundings. Since when did she sound so husky? Boy, she was good.
He moved his head to one side. “I’m not sure, Selena.” His fingers brushed the side of her face. He had to touch her. He had to. “And I think that’s what intrigues me most.”
Being a good-looking plastic surgeon in LA was almost a hazard. Women had been known to throw themselves at him. But Selena wasn’t throwing herself at him. She was responding to him. This was a mutual attraction between two consenting adults. She moistened her top lip with a flick of her tongue and he nearly groaned out loud. His blood pressure had just cranked up a few extra notches.
She leaned forward. It was a deliberate move. Aimed to draw his eyes to her rounded breasts. And it worked.
“And should an employee really intrigue her boss like this? It makes me feel like a bad girl. I don’t know if this is entirely appropriate.” A smile spread across her face. No doubt in reaction to the fact his pupils had probably dilated so much she wouldn’t be able to see the color of his eyes anymore.
He didn’t hesitate. “I think it’s entirely inappropriate. But who says rules weren’t made to be broken? What about you, Selena—are you a girl that always follows the rules?”
The implication was clear.
They were this close. If he moved forward—even slightly—their noses would touch. He would feel her breath on his skin. He could almost taste her luscious, plump lips.
And no, he wasn’t going to listen to the screaming voices in his head.
“Sometimes,” she paused, “it all depends on who is making them.”
She inched closer. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was trying to control it. “What are you doing?”
There they were. Those green eyes with uncertainty clouding their vision. Fixated on him again. Making him lose every rational thought in his head. Making him act on impulse.
He drew in a sharp breath. His voice was steady. His words clear and his actions those of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. “Examining your wound. Making sure it’s not infected. I can only do that if I examine it closely.” He reached up and touched her forehead, instantly reigniting all the senses he was trying to dampen.
A smile danced across her face. “And what do you see?”
“Clean edges. Tight stitches. Exactly what I should see as your doctor. Because that’s what I am: your doctor—and your employer.” There was a tightness in his voice. A sense of a man barely under control. Who was he trying to convince? Him? Or her?
/> Two reasons. He’d just voiced two reasons they shouldn’t be doing this.
She tilted her head and asked the obvious question. “And once they come out?”
“Then you won’t be my patient anymore.”
She lifted her hand and touched his. “No. I won’t be, will I? But you’ll still be my boss.”
He nodded slowly, trying to resist his temptation to say he didn’t care. His voice dropped an octave, revealing his desire. “For another three weeks.” He lifted his hand and placed it gently at the open neckline of her shirt. He could feel her heartbeat under her fingers. “Let’s spend sometime getting to know each other. Work is work. Fun, that’s something else entirely. We can last three weeks, can’t we, Selena?”
She drew in a deep breath and paused. For a second he thought she might say no. But her face broke into a sultry smile, and she reached up and brushed his cheek. “Three weeks. We’re both adults. We can manage that.”
There it was. The promise between them of something more. The acknowledgement that they both wanted to act.
His imagination was running riot. This woman could get him in so much trouble. Their flirtation was off the scale. He couldn’t help but ask a loaded question. “So, Selena, what’s the normal bedtime routine?” he asked.
His fingers were still on her cheek. So soft, like velvet. She tilted her head toward his touch. It was instinctive, totally natural.
She looked at him through thick eyelashes. “If I don’t have anything to stay up late for, then it’s straight to bed—shorts and a strappy top, a good book, and the soap reruns for some background noise.”
“And if you do have something to stay up late for?”
She licked her top lip, leaving a sheen across her mouth. It was a completely innocent act but his brain was in overdrive. He wanted to it kiss clean off. His fingers started to trace tiny circles at the side of her cheek.
“Well, if I do have something to stay up late for…” She stood up swiftly, her breasts brushing lightly against his chest and he sucked in a breath. His hands hovered for a second in midair before they settled on her hips. A real woman.
It was all he could do not to throw his hands in the air and shout, “Praise Be!”
But he had no intention of moving from his current position. She was too tantalizing by far.
“It would all depend on my reason for staying up late.” Her voice was low and breathy.
He watched in fascination as she reached out and ran a finger across the breadth of his chest, from one side to the other. Desire curled in his belly, his hands ached to reach under her emerald shirt and touch her skin.
“Sometimes I stay up late alone.”
Jackpot. He tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her closer and anchoring her between his thighs, praying that at any moment Helen wouldn’t decide to return to the clinic. Late-night trips weren’t that unusual for her. This time she would see a whole lot more than she bargained for.
What he wouldn’t give right now just to push Selena back on to the desk and rip that sinfully sexy shirt from her body. He couldn’t wait to see what lay underneath. The thought of touching her silky skin under his palms, smelling her scent on his fingertips was making his blood pound. As for her soft, wet parted mouth…
“And sometimes, if I have company, I might want to slip into something a little more comfortable.”
“And what might that be?” His voice was thick, his imagination exploding.
Her smile was coy this time. She was having fun teasing him. “I have lingerie in every color of the rainbow. And sometimes I like to try one—and then the other.” She leaned a little closer, brushing her breasts against his chest again.
He tried not to let out a groan.
“What’s your favorite color, Colt?” She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it backward and revealing the paler skin and pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. Heat slammed into him. She was driving him crazy.
Colt had never, ever gotten mixed up with either a patient, or a member of staff before. But right now, all rational thoughts had left the building. The reception desk was a starting point but he was currently imagining all the places in the spa that they could have some adult fun.
The glint in her eye was still there. “Emerald green? Sapphire blue? Or scarlet?”
She laid her hand flat on his chest and his body reacted in a way that neither of them could ignore.
“Are you a scarlet kind of guy? Or do you like black? Black lace and satin?”
Colt stood up abruptly, snapping the tension between them like a tight elastic band. His breath was panting. He was right at the edge. He had to stop this, or he’d lose control. “Enough.”
Her gaze swept downward, and she looked impressed with the effect she’d had.
His brain was buzzing so hard he could hardly think straight. It took a few seconds to find the words. “This is crazy. You’ve just gotten here. I know nothing about you.”
“And I know nothing about you.” Their gazes meshed. The green of her eyes had almost vanished, taken over by the wide, dark pupils, revealing her desire.
“Then this is clearly crazy.” Her obvious physical reaction made him catch his breath. It made him want to close the gap between them. He had to stop. He had to get a hold of himself.
The clinic was in enough trouble without another patient or employee lawsuit. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t know the first thing about her. Any minute now some wild, gun-toting, crazy ex-husband could be at the gates of the clinic. How would he explain that one to Helen?
And more importantly, what if she was the kind of girl who thought beauty was all about appearance? Once she saw what lay beneath the surface she might run quicker than a Hollywood starlet chasing after the next big role.
He bent forward, his skin skimming hers. “White,” he whispered the words in her ear, “I’m a white satin, white lace kind of guy.”
He heard her breath catch in her throat and color appeared in her cheeks.
And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room before he lost the power to do so.
…
A bed for the night. That’s what she needed. That was her goal.
The cool California night was beginning to clear her head.
She ran along the orange-lit path, dragging the suitcase behind her—its wheels would never function again. The gorgeous cottage came into view and she dumped the case at her feet. It only took a second to turn the key in the lock and she squinted at the crumpled paper in her hand, punching the numbers into the security pad.
It beeped and turned green.
She pushed open the door and dragged her case inside, slamming the door behind her as if a crowd of killer zombies were at her back.
Her heart was thumping and her body was on fire. It could be the mad dash from the clinic—she hadn’t exactly been exercising this last week—but her head told her it was the sizzle of what had just happened with Colt. From now on known as Dr. Hot.
She leaned against the door and spent a moment taking in her surroundings.
Luxurious. Sumptuous. Sensuous.
The words all floated around in her mind. But what was better? The relief of having somewhere safe to stay, or the expectation of what could happen with Colt?
No contest. Colt every time.
In the meantime it was a relief to have somewhere to sleep tonight. This cottage was different from the one she’d viewed with him earlier. The previous one had been decorated in shades of orange. This one was more opulent in shades of purple.
Rich velvet drapes, a sofa she could melt into with coordinated throw cushions, and purple glass vases filled with matching fresh flowers that sent a lavender aroma into the air.
It couldn’t be more perfect. She even had a set of underwear to match.
She let out a laugh. The expression on Colt’s face when she’d mentioned she had underwear in every shade of the rainbow. He’d looked fit to burst.
This place was looking better all the time.
But her heart was still beating too fast. What about Colt Travers?
He was an occupational hazard.
She collapsed back, sinking into the luxury bed, and groaned. Her brain was instantly going to thoughts of what she could do with him in this bed. His chiseled jaw, tanned skin, and the feel of the sculptured muscles of his chest were imprinted in her brain.
She would never sleep now—her erotic thoughts wouldn’t allow it.
The last thing—the very last thing—she needed to do right now was jeopardize what was sitting in front of her.
She really, really wanted to put her sensible head on right now.
If she could keep her head down until she’d worked off her bill, then she might finally manage to plan ahead and look at her finances. Find a job. Find a place to stay. And pay back Mark.
Whether it was intentional or not, turning up at Seacliffe had put a glimmer of hope in a really bad day.
She cringed as she remembered Mark’s face yesterday. Truth be told, she was embarrassed by how she’d acted. She was embarrassed by the amount of money she’d spent in the last few months—money she clearly didn’t have.
What had she been thinking?
Or maybe that was just it. She hadn’t been thinking. She been living in cloud cuckoo land that she was still earning a big salary, or the next big job was just around the corner. Even working weekends at Starbucks hadn’t made her wake up and smell the coffee.
She could do this. She could.
She could pay off her debt at the clinic, work weekends at Starbucks, and do her absolute best to try and land another job in the next month.
In the meantime, she could hide out for as long as possible in one of the cottages.