HOLLY SCRAMBLED FROM the cab, bumping the door closed with her hip. Gabriel straightened and stepped back from paying the cabbie and she had a flash of him as he’d looked earlier in Theatre. Tall, steady and hot—despite the laid-back charm he’d dispensed with equal measure to everyone on his team.
Although she’d deliberately avoided any opportunity to observe him in action, she could readily understand why the surgical nursing staff fought to be on his team. Other than the obvious hotness factor, he was patient and quick to break any tension with supportive praise or a few wisecracks. He controlled the proceedings and the people around him with such skillful ease that everyone practically fell over themselves to please him.
Even her, she admitted with a frown. She could scarcely believe how they’d worked together—perfectly in sync—like they’d been doing it together for years instead of just a few hours.
It had been a little unnerving to discover that the man she’d been ready to dislike simply on principle wasn’t the spoiled Hollywood celebrity she’d been expecting. And he was good, damn it. Good at kissing and making the breath catch in her throat. Good at making her forget the plan, and really good at saving a man’s shattered face. So good that she couldn’t help the little niggle of jealousy at the way he made things look so easy when she had to work so darned hard.
Sighing, she watched the cab disappear around the corner. A chilly wind had kicked up a few fall leaves and she shivered, hunching into her thin jacket as she looked up into a clear night sky. The moon was large and fat and seemed closer to the earth than usual and the halo around it promised a cold winter ahead.
She usually hated winter but for some reason it made her think of half-empty bottles of wine, a roaring fire and the flash of naked limbs and satisfied sighs. Her pulse leapt and heat rose from deep in her belly until it surrounded her in a shimmering glow—like a banked fire smoldering in her core, just waiting to burst into flame.
Puffing out her cheeks, she rolled her eyes because…because the tangle of limbs in her vision belonged to her and…and…
Another shiver moved through Holly.
She was in trouble.
Big trouble.
Spooked by her realization as much as the wildly erotic visions in her head, she turned and caught him watching silently from a few feet away. And in that instant her perception of him underwent yet another metamorphosis.
With only one side of his face starkly lit by moonlight and the rest in deep shadow, he looked big and bad and a little dangerous. Like a fierce golden angel banished from the heavens for inspiring illicit thoughts and needs in mortal women.
Gone was the laid-back flirt as well as the brilliant innovative surgeon with a knack for getting the best out of everyone. In his place was a man seemingly shrouded in mystery and…and aching loneliness.
The image made her heart squeeze in her chest and she had to resist the urge to go to him, press close to his big body and chase away the shadows she sometimes saw in his eyes.
But Gabriel Alexander was big and bad and beautiful and he certainly didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone—especially someone scarred and focused on reaching her goals.
Shrugging off the uncomfortable realization that he was more than the hot, sexy Hollywood celebrity that made her tingle in hidden places, Holly became aware of the intensity of his gaze. His utter stillness unnerved her. She opened her mouth and said, “Did you know that Neil Armstrong was a Boy Scout?” before she could stop herself. “In fact, seventy one percent of astronauts,” she continued determinedly, “are believed to have been Scouts.”
His mouth curved, dispelling the image of a remote celestial being, and for once Holly didn’t care if she sounded like a crazy person. She’d hated seeing that remoteness surrounding him like a thick, impenetrable cloud.
She bit her lip at the memory of the way his mouth had felt closing over hers. Of the way it had created a light suction that had made her breath hitch and her bones melt. She shivered again and this time it had nothing to do with the chill wind blowing from the north, announcing that winter was on its way.
Exactly what her shiver was announcing, Holly couldn’t tell. Only that it made her heart pound, her skin tingle and her knees wobble like she’d tossed back one too many mojitos on an empty stomach.
“How did we get from being stranded in New York City to Neil Armstrong?”
“The moon, Boy Scouts…” she said a little breathlessly. “It seemed… I don’t know…logical.” She was helplessly caught in his eyes and the web of heat and tension that surrounded them. A tension that grew thicker by the minute, stealing her oxygen and her bones.
Her stomach chose that instant to growl loudly and she pressed a hand against the rumble, hoping he hadn’t heard. But then it dawned on her that her weird dizziness—and possibly the hallucinations of lonely celestial beings—was simply a matter of low blood sugar. Her breath rushed out in a noisy whoosh of relief. Oh, thank God, she thought dizzily. All she needed was a quick meal, about ten hours of sleep and she’d be back to normal.
Whew. She gave a husky laugh that sounded a little too hysterical for comfort and headed for the steps leading to her house. What a relief.
She opened her mouth to call out goodnight and gave a surprised yelp when Gabriel took her elbow and steered her away from her brownstone.
Toward his.
“What…what are you doing?”
“Hmm?”
“That’s your house, Dr. Alexander, not mine.”
“I know, and don’t you think we’re past the stage of calling each other doctor?”
She wasn’t going to talk about the kiss and calling him Dr. Alexander helped remind her that he was a colleague. She tugged on her elbow and growled when he ignored her attempts and continued to steer her calmly across the sidewalk, up the stairs past the late-blooming flowers in pots to the heavy wooden door. “Gabriel…why are you taking me to your house?”
The overhead light illuminated his features, revealing a wicked grin and gleaming eyes. She gave a mental eye roll. Yeesh, so much for the lonely celestial being image. He looked more like a fallen angel hell-bent on mischief and mayhem.
“Well,” he said, fishing his keys from his pocket one-handed and jiggling them till he found the one he wanted. “I’m going to cook.” He shoved the key in the lock.
She couldn’t have been more surprised. “But…it’s after one in the morning.”
He arched that mocking brow at her and pushed open the door, drawing her closer despite her obvious reluctance. “You have a meal waiting for you?”
Hovering uncertainly on the threshold, she tugged on her arm and sent him a look filled with feminine exasperation when he tugged her closer instead. “Well, no, but…”
He drew her all the way in and shut the door, instantly surrounding them in deep silence that only emphasized her unsteady breathing and fraying nerves. “You haven’t lived till you’ve sampled my…er…omelets.” His grin flashed in response to her squeak as though he knew her mind had descended into the gutter. “Relax. I’ll feed you and send you home. Scout’s honor.”
“I thought we’d established that you were never a Scout.”
“No.” He chuckled. “You established that.”
Holly chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she looked around at the boxes still littering the floor. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she smoothed them over her thighs to disguise their trembling. “Maybe I should—”
He lifted a long tanned finger and placed it gently on her lips. “Food first.” His touch made them tingle and she had to fight an overwhelming urge to open her mouth and lick him. Or maybe nibble on that long tanned digit.
She sucked in a sharp breath. Holy cow. She’d never had that kind of impulse before, which either meant low blood sugar was making her hallucinate or…or she was headed down a one-way street to disaster. She knew exactly which one she’d put her money on but hoped like hell she was just hallucinating.
His eyes gleamed as though he knew what he was doing to her, and in addition to her growing sense of looming disaster was an impulse to bite.
Huh.
Maybe she was just hungry after all.
“It’s the least I can do after hijacking you at the gym.”
At the mention of the gym, her face went hot and a little voice in the back of her head told her to run and keep running until the memory of those few minutes faded.
But he was taking her shoulder bag and briefcase hostage and to cover her tripping pulse she turned her attention to the furniture dotting the space not taken up by boxes.
It looked like one-tattoo-for-every-skirmish guy had simply dumped everything in Gabriel’s sitting room and left.
“Interesting décor,” she murmured, thinking there weren’t even drapes at the windows and he’d been living here, what…three weeks already? But she’d seen his schedule and he’d probably only had time to come home, shower and sleep before returning to the hospital.
A glance over her shoulder caught Gabriel’s grimace as he dropped her bags onto the nearest box. He pulled his black hoodie over his head, briefly exposing his flat, tanned belly before dropping the garment over her briefcase. The stark white T-shirt tested the seams of his shoulders and stretched across his chest, emphasizing the depth of his tan and the width of his biceps. She dropped her gaze to where she’d seen that flash of taut, tanned flesh and wondered why the brief sight of his belly button had seemed so…intimate. More intimate somehow than his earlier kiss. The one that had sucked the breath from her lungs along with her mind and any thoughts about her future.
“I haven’t had much time to unpack or find someone to do it for me,” he was saying, and Holly had to tear her gaze away from where her eyes had dropped to his button fly before he caught her ogling his package again.
Crap. Maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe this…this feeling of impending disaster was just the first sign of her unraveling mind.
Sucking in breath in an effort to calm her skittering nerves, she said, “My mother has a concierge service that could probably help.” There, she silently congratulated herself. That didn’t sound crazy, did it?
“Yeah? That’d be great.” He thrust a hand through his hair, tousling the overlong strands even further, and she had to curl her hands into fists to stop from reaching out and smoothing the thick sun-streaked locks. “I hate unpacking,” he admitted sheepishly, seemingly oblivious to her chaotic thoughts. “Even if I’d had the time, I wouldn’t know where to put all this stuff. I just want my couch and TV set up so I can watch the games.”
It was such a guy thing to say that she hid a smile and tried not to imagine his big body sprawled on his huge leather sofa, watching a ball game.
His body radiated clean masculine heat and where his hand touched the small of her back, as he ushered her toward the back of the house, an insidious heat spread across her flesh. She wanted to sink back into him and maybe rub against all that heat and hardness. Just as she’d done earlier.
Get a grip, woman, she ordered herself silently. Since when did you have urges to lean on a guy for support?
“I’ll…um…call my mother in the morning.” Her voice emerged low and slightly husky and she ignored the little smile teasing the corner of his mouth that she was tempted to bite right off.
She rolled her eyes. Clearly she needed food fast or she’d start nibbling on the closest patch of masculine skin.
Looking around his sparkling, modern kitchen, Holly discovered a mild case of kitchen envy but then he started pulling things out of his refrigerator with quick efficiency and she discovered another kind of envy too. The kind where she could wield a corkscrew or maybe a spatula with the same skill she handled a scalpel.
Gabriel Alexander—the jerk—didn’t seem to suffer from the same challenges. He drew a bottle of white wine out of the cooler and efficiently uncorked it while he directed her to an overhead cabinet for wine glasses.
“I usually prefer beer,” he said. “But good food demands a good wine.”
She handed him the glasses. “You’re a foodie?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners at her disgruntled tone. “You sound surprised.”
She sighed, propped her hip against the nearest cabinet and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Not so much surprised as envious,” she admitted. “I’m a kitchen klutz.” His lips twitched and she narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits because she knew what he was thinking. He was thinking the kitchen wasn’t the only place she suffered from klutziness.
He clearly valued his life because he just chuckled and handed her a glass of chilled white wine. “You’re a cute klutz, though.” Then he stunned her speechless by tracing a line of fire across her lips with his finger before turning away to reach for a bowl and a carton of eggs.
It took her a few moments—okay, minutes—to recover her breath and gulp down a mouthful of crisp Riesling. It jolted her back to reality before warming up her belly and clearing her head.
She offered to chop something but he shook his head and said he was off duty. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended since he’d probably meant that he’d seen enough blood for one day. Smartass.
So Holly sipped her wine and watched him work, which, God knew, wasn’t a hardship. It was also kind of hot to see a man so at home in a kitchen.
When she was stressed she liked to bake but her efforts were mostly inedible, which sucked because she loved chocolate-fudge brownies and chocolate-chip cookies. Granted, she made an excellent salad but she was ashamed to say she often just nuked one of the casseroles her mother kept stocked in the freezer for her. It was easier than cleaning up after her disasters.
She licked a drop of wine off the back of her hand, impressed by his one-handed method of cracking eggs into a bowl without adding a ton of shells. Show-off. He then went on to chop and sprinkle with quick efficiency until delicious smells filled the kitchen and her stomach set up an almost continuous growl.
Over another glass of wine and light, fluffy harvest omelets that he’d teamed with herbed bruschetta, Gabriel entertained her with stories of his youthful exploits. Holly found herself laughing more than she had in years and soon a warm glow radiated out from the center of her chest. She was flushed and light-headed—like she’d drunk too much champagne or maybe sucked on a little too much helium—and she could scarcely believe that she was sitting in a kitchen with the Hollywood Hatchet Man, actually enjoying herself.
Before she could remind herself that he’d seen countless beautiful and famous women—including her sister—naked or that he’d worked in an industry that was mostly to blame for the low self-esteem of ordinary women like herself, Holly swirled the wine in her glass and looked up, only to become snared by the sleepy heat in his eyes. Yikes.
“So what about you?” he asked.
Her laughter died and a palpable tension replaced the friendly mood—a tension that had absolutely nothing to do with her opinions of his former career. She blinked.
It didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. It was there in the glowing heat of his gaze that set her pulse skittering even as a heavy ache settled between her thighs.
It might have been the wine, knocked back on an empty stomach, but her tongue felt suddenly too thick to form words. And like the night she’d slugged back mojitos, her lips went numb.
For long moments she stared into his eyes, hypnotized, until the thickening tension made it difficult to breathe. She blinked. “I…uh…”
Her voice came to her through a long tunnel and the breathless huskiness of it might have shocked her if she’d been thinking clearly…okay, thinking, period. But for the same reason her mouth couldn’t form words, her brain couldn’t form thoughts.
In slow motion she licked her dry lips and his gaze dropped to catch the path of her tongue. His eyes darkened and he said her name. “Holly.” Just her name, but his voice, rough and deep as sin, scraped her already ragged nerves and she had to gulp in air or pass out.
Her skin gave a warning prickle an instant before her brain melted along with the muscles in her thighs.
“Hmm?” She was in big trouble and for some reason she couldn’t seem to drum up the energy to care.
His eyes dipped to half-mast and she could practically feel the enormous control he was exercising over himself. It was there in the tight lines of his face and the sudden stillness of his body, which practically vibrated with tension.
And there was absolutely no mistaking the sensuality in his gaze.
“If you’re going to leave,” he rasped in a voice she scarcely recognized, “I suggest you do it now.”
Feeling dazed and strangely lethargic, Holly sucked in a shuddery breath. “Um…now?” Frankly, she didn’t know how he expected her to move. She was frozen to the spot by the laser-bright gaze, the gold flecks swirling in the blue-green depths having stolen her ability to move.
“I’m giving you ten seconds.” The warning came as a low deep growl that sent a dark excitement skittering through her blood until her body was practically humming with anticipation.
His gaze darkened—“Nine”—and her pulse gave an excited little blip. Instead of scrambling to her feet and escaping, she continued staring into his eyes, wondering at this odd dark need to ride the edge of danger.
A voice in her head ordered her to move, but her body refused to obey. “And then what?”
He leaned forward until there was barely an inch separating his lips from hers. Fascinated, she stared into the swirling depths of his eyes and was stunned by the intensity burning in their centers. He appeared seconds away from pouncing and a thrill of alarm zinged across her skin.
Dropping her gaze, she found his finely sculpted mouth almost touching hers. Oh, God. He was so close she could already feel the searing imprint of his mouth. She eagerly awaited a kiss she knew was just a heartbeat away.
And when he didn’t so much as lean in her direction she was the one to make the move that closed the gap between their mouths. Through the roaring in her head she thought she heard him say, “And then I’m going to drag you over the counter and there’ll be no escaping until—”
She froze. “Until?”
She felt him smile against her lips and the sensation of it sent a firestorm of sparks exploding in her brain like fireworks. “Until your eyes roll back in your head and…” Her breath escaped in a shuddery whoosh. “And you forget your plan.”
She wondered why he was still talking when all she wanted was for him to grab her and make her eyes roll back in her head. Oh, wait. They’d already rolled back in her head to check out the state of her brain and “My plan? What plan?” popped out of her mouth in a breathless rush. It took a few seconds for her words to finally register. And when they did, her head cleared.
“Oh.” She abruptly shoved back from the counter, nearly toppling the stool in her haste. For a breathless moment she stood, swaying, and stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. “I…um, I have to go.”
Gabriel made a growling sound deep in his chest that had the hair on her arms lifting like she’d got too close to an electrostatic generator. Spooked by the sensations and the thoughts racing through her head, Holly backed away, turned on her heel and walked blindly into the wall.
“Careful,” he murmured, and even without looking she knew he was fighting a smile. She rolled her eyes and altered her course, heading down the passage to the front of the house, suddenly eager to escape. Before she did something she regretted.
Like turn and grab him. Like lose herself in his hungry caresses or forget that she had a plan that had no room for hot, sexy surgeons.
“I have to go,” she repeated, feeling a little dazed and more than a little freaked out. Her ears buzzed and her knees shook so badly it was a miracle they didn’t buckle and dump her on her ass.
“I’ll see you home.” His voice came from right behind her and a wide-eyed look over her shoulder revealed him fighting amusement. Oh, God, how embarrassing. She increased her pace until the urgent tap-tap of her heels on the wooden floorboards nearly drowned out her panicked thoughts.
“There’s no need,” she babbled, as she finally reached the door and tried to tug it open, only to find it locked. “Besides, I’m right next…door and—” emerged on a breathless squeak when she swung around to find him only inches away.
Gabriel regarded her silently for an endless moment before he scooped up her shoulder bag and briefcase. She held out a shaking hand. “I’ll see you home,” he repeated in a gravelly voice, and reached around her to open the door.
She might have escaped unscathed if she hadn’t made the mistake of lifting her gaze off his white T-shirt-covered chest, up past his tanned throat, the hard square jaw and sculpted mouth to his gaze.
She froze.
His pupils were huge and very black, his eyes hot and steamy in his tanned face. More blue than green, they blazed with an emotion that was unmistakable even to a social klutz like her.
For long charged moments their gazes locked until with a savage growl Gabriel kicked the door closed and hauled Holly up against him. And before she could squeak out a protest at the rough treatment, he’d backed her against the door and closed his mouth over hers in a kiss so hot it singed her skin and set her hair on fire.
Ohmigod.
Incredible heat poured off him in waves that engulfed her, threatening to drag her under and drown her in a flood of heat and urgency. Help, she thought an instant before his tongue breached the barrier of her lips, surging into her mouth and stealing her breath. I’m in trouble.
His tongue slid against hers and the next instant the kiss turned greedy, his mouth eating hungrily at hers. She moaned and desperation rose along with the heat in his kisses. Any thought of escaping faded.
In fact, if this was trouble she welcomed it, along with the slick slide of his tongue against hers and the warm press of his big hard body.
Fever rose in her blood and her skin prickled with an almost embarrassing need to be touched, a need for his big warm hands to slide over her naked flesh.
He broke off the kiss to feather his lips across her jaw to the delicate skin beneath her ear, leaving Holly fighting for breath and the urge to beg him to hurry. Heat exploded along her nerve endings and she shuddered, her breasts tightening until they ached.
She flattened her palms against his belly; the bunching muscles making her hands itch with the need to explore every hard inch of him, including the long thick evidence of his arousal against her belly.
Unable to resist arching closer, Holly angled her head and “Gabriel…I…um…” emerged on a low moan. She wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say, only that a voice, somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, was urging her to get the hell away before it was too late. “I have to… I need to… I think I should…”
“Don’t,” he murmured against her throat, and she murmured in dazed agreement. “Don’t think.” Nipping at the slender column, he drew her skin into his mouth, soothing the small hurt when she uttered a tiny shocked gasp. “Feel, Holly. Just…feel.”
Okay, so that was doable. Besides, thinking took too much effort, especially with his mouth, hot and wet as it dragged across her skin, making secret hidden flesh respond with tiny spasmodic clenches.
She stiffened. Oh, God. He’d yanked her right to the edge so fast she was fighting to keep from exploding right out of her skin.
Then he was taking her mouth again in a hungry kiss, thrusting a hard thigh between hers and pressing his erection into the notch at the top of her thighs. His big hands slid to her hips, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh as he ground against her, groaning like he was in pain. And before she could give voice to the fiery need clawing at her belly, his muscles bunched and she found herself lifted off her feet.
Instinctively wrapping her legs around his hips, Holly clutched at his shoulders. Muscles shifted beneath her hands, a solid anchor in a world suddenly whirling with chaotic hunger, ragged breathing and wild exhilaration.
Her hair, a dark silky nimbus, floated around their heads. Somehow he’d unraveled her hair with the same ease that he’d unraveled her defenses.
“Hold on,” he said, pushing away from the door to stand swaying for a couple of beats, breath sawing from his heaving lungs like he’d crossed the Brooklyn Bridge at a dead run.
“Wha-at?” Holly’s lashes fluttered up and she stared at him uncomprehendingly. Without replying, he turned toward the sitting room, cursing when his foot caught on something and he staggered. She squeaked and tightened her grip and his muttered curse of “Damn boxes” became a soothing growl. “Don’t worry,” he murmured against her mouth between kisses. “I won’t let you fall.”