Clara froze, her jaw dropping.

It was him from last night. Naked VIP Guy. And he was looking at her as if he’d expected their paths to cross.

Clara snatched her eyes away, fury and confusion knocking the air from her lungs.

“No pulse,” he said, his gray-blue gaze landing on Clara’s. “Are you okay to continue compressions, Nurse Lund?”

She nodded, tired but not yet spent.

Clara restarted the chest compressions, acutely aware that the man with the body of a Greek god and haunted eyes was now watching her every move while they tried to bring back Mr. Engman.

How dare he ambush her this way. How dare he be a doctor and not the diplomat she’d assumed.

How dare he be so calm and collected, as if he had no recollection of last night’s knee-buckling kiss.

Only Clara’s shame was amplified by how out of character she’d acted last night, how easily duped she’d been, flirting outrageously with and then kissing a sexy gloriously naked stranger who’d clearly deceived her about his true identity.

What had she been thinking?