Still, the hot steam worked wonders, and she stayed there for a good long time, until the hot water turned warm, then tepid. Finally, she stepped out and sighed.
Damn, she’d been looking forward to a day off.
There was one dry towel left on the rack, which meant she needed to seriously consider the pile of things behind her bedroom door as well as the pile now on her floor, both of which she so lovingly referred to as Laundry Mountain Range. Tucking the towel beneath her armpits, she studied herself impassively in the mirror.
Not bad, she’d give herself that. And though she’d prefer to be taller than so damn short, her bones weren’t bad either. Thanks to her workouts, she was a lean, mean, fighting machine.
But breasts would have been nice.
Laughing at herself, she turned away. What would she have done with cleavage? It wasn’t as if she had dates lining up.
Still smiling, she opened the door and marched into her bedroom, dropping her towel as she went.
Because she had excellent eyesight, she therefore had a front-and-center view of Ty sitting on her bed, holding a glass of orange juice.
He had a front-and-center view, too. Of her.
The glass slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor in tune with her shriek as she bent down for her towel. “What are you doing?”
“I…”
Straightening, she studiously avoided looking into his face as she refastened the towel. “I thought you left!”
“Yeah, I…”
“You said that already!”
Ty knew that, but he was still flummoxed by the sight of her tight, lean body all dewy and damp from her shower. Standing now, he wasn’t reassured by the fact his knees wobbled.
What was wrong with him? She wasn’t his usual type, meaning stacked and blond and soft. There was nothing soft about Nicole, not her tough, angular body, not her voice, and most definitely not her eyes.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking dirty little thoughts? Or take his eyes off her? “Sorry. I just wanted to be sure you at least drank some juice.”
“Can’t do that now, can I?” With jerky movements, she tightened the towel even further over her breasts.
Breasts that he now knew were a perfect handful, tipped with tight rose-colored nipples. Somehow he managed to walk to her, lift her chin and look into her furious and…damn it, very embarrassed, eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated softly.
“Yeah.”
He gazed at her grim mouth, and unbidden, his thoughts turned to kissing her until she was soft and pliant, until she sighed and gave herself over to him and the pleasure he could give her. He, Ty Patrick O’Grady, no-good bastard, black-heart. “You should know I’m attracted to you in a way I can’t quite seem to get over.”
“And yet you’ve seen me naked. Imagine that.”
She didn’t believe him. He sucked in a breath and inhaled the scent of her shampoo and ridiculously, his body reacted.
Perfect.
Now all his thinking had taken him to a place he had no business going, not with this woman. She wasn’t the type to put up with a man afflicted with a serious sense of wanderlust, a man who never knew when he was going to decide to up and relocate.
Hell, he’d never found any woman, on this continent or otherwise, who’d put up with that.
Not that he wanted one to.
“You’re beautiful, Nicole,” he heard himself say as he stroked a finger over her cheek, her jaw. “So damn beautiful.”
It wasn’t until he got down the stairs and into his car that he let out the breath he’d been holding and stared off at nothing.
He’d meant what he’d said. He was attracted to her in a way he couldn’t get past. And she was beautiful, with or without that mouthwatering body and all that creamy, creamy skin exposed. So damned beautiful he ached.
Not a good thing, not a good thing at all.
NICOLE WORKED so many hours over the next two days she managed to forget Ty had seen her very naked. At the end of a particularly long, atrocious shift, she stood in front of her locker in the doctor’s lounge and realized she actually had the next day off.
Sleep, here she came.
“That was an interesting sigh,” said a male voice from behind her. A voice that made her wish she’d gotten out of here five minutes ago.
Dr. Lincoln Watts. Head of Surgery. And ruler of his domain.
Not that she didn’t appreciate his skill, because he was truly gifted. But that gift didn’t extend to his people skills.
In short, out of the operating room, he was a jerk. The nurses hated him, the aides feared him. The other doctors merely tolerated him, mostly because he ruled over all of them, but also because it was too much trouble to cross him.
Oh, and he had the memory of an elephant.
As the youngest doctor on staff, Nicole had learned to keep a low profile. She did her job; she did it well. It was all she’d ever wanted.
Even with Dr. Watts staring at her ass. “Can I help you?” she asked politely, turning to look at him so he had to raise his gaze.
He took his time about doing so, and for the first time she was glad she had small, unimpressionable breasts. She wanted to give him as little pleasure as possible.
“Can you help me,” he repeated with a little smile as he finally met her gaze. “Why yes, I believe you can.”
Damn.
“Come with me to the benefit tomorrow night.”
The benefit he referred to was an annual event designed to extricate money from rich patrons and deposit it directly to the hospital’s coffers. It put critical funds at the hospital’s disposal, as well as provided write-offs for the hospital’s patrons. Everyone was happy.
However, it required an evening of stiff smiles for Nicole, who hated dressing up, hated being “on” and hated the forced mingling. This year she’d arranged to be on shift so as to avoid the entire messy affair. “Sorry, I’m working.”
“I can rearrange that for you.”
At a considerable cost, one she figured would involve him and his bed. “No, thank you. I don’t mind missing it.”
“I want you to come with me.”
And what Dr. Watts wanted, Dr. Watts got. “I’m sorry, Dr. Watts, but that wouldn’t be fair to the others.”
“Linc.”
“Excuse me?”
He traced a finger over her shoulder and she just barely restrained her shudder. “Call me Linc,” he said softly. “And I’d consider it a personal favor if you went with me.”
Nicole might have mastered calculus by the age of eight but she’d never mastered basic political correctness 101. “I said no.”
His eyes darkened, and without another word, he strode off.
Uneasy, Nicole watched him go and wondered if she’d just screwed herself by not screwing the boss.
* * *
SHE WENT HOME. On the front steps of the building sat a brass lion, its mouth open wide in a silent roar. Shaking her head, she walked past it. Just inside were a vintage-looking