She grabbed the paper. “Oh, my God,” she whimpered, too shocked to do anything but gape at the large color pic.
“There’s more on page three.” Kim bumped her shoulder sympathetically and Lilah turned the page with shaking hands. She gasped when she saw a grainy picture showing her stripping off her dress in full view of an entire waterfront packed with people. There were others too: of her stepping from the boat onto the pier; giving Trent what appeared to be a passionate kiss; and a close-up of her and Luke Sullivan sharing an eye-lock. The caption read “Wild Woman and Dr. Oh-So-Dishy share a scorching hot look.”
Yikes.
She looked naked. She felt exposed and … and horrified. How could this happen? It was like she was back in high school and someone posted an embarrassing photograph of her on the bulletin board. Only worse. Because now everyone in Spruce Ridge could gawk at her in her underwear.
There was a pic of Luke in his wet boxer briefs looking buff and hunky. It was practically X-rated and Lilah could easily imagine thousands of women across the city drooling over him as they enjoyed their morning coffee.
“Where …?” She swallowed the hot lump of mortification that had settled in her throat and tried again. “Where the heck did these come from?” she rasped.
Kim’s sideways glance was sympathetic. “Cellphones probably.”
“Cellphones?” Lilah turned and gaped at her. “People were filming me with cellphones instead of doing something to help?” She knew she was getting a little hysterical and a lot outraged, but she felt outraged. “Two young people could have died while they whipped out their cellphones and caught it on video?”
Kim shrugged as if to say, Yeah, go figure and said, “Yay for teenagers and their technology. They must have made a fortune selling them to the tabloids.”
Lilah’s eyes dropped to the close-up of her and Luke Sullivan and felt her face go hot. That simmering instant of connection had been caught for all eternity by some pimply faced adolescent. “This is a nightmare.” Kim studied the picture and Lilah felt the other woman’s sideways look. “What?”
“It looks kind of hot. Like a freeze-frame from a movie where the romantic leads share a sexy moment.”
Lilah groaned and covered her face.
“It gets worse,” Mandy said, and squeezed Lilah’s shoulder in silent support.
“How can anything be worse than this?”
“Easy,” Kim said with a snicker. “You’ve gone viral.”
Luke approached the church and took the stone stairs to the open wooden doors. A wedding was the last place he wanted to be. He’d rather be caught in hostile territory without a weapon. But, last night, after he’d helped pour a wasted Greg into a taxi, he’d made a solemn promise that he’d be here.
He nodded to the guests gathered at the entrance and slipped his aviator shades into the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d had to buy a new suit, but considering the last one he’d owned was about nineteen years old he’d thought he was probably due for a new one. Especially if he was contemplating civilian life.
He might hate weddings and all they entailed but even he knew he couldn’t arrive dressed in black leather. Other than a duffle bag full of army fatigues, jeans and tees, leather was all he had in his meager wardrobe. And owning one suit didn’t mean he was turning out to be like his mother’s husbands.
Resigning himself to a few hours of excruciating torture, he accepted a program from a pimply-faced usher in an ill-fitting suit and moved into the church, choosing a seat near the back. He’d come solo partly because he didn’t know anyone outside of hospital personnel, and partly because women tended to get the kind of ideas at weddings that he wanted to avoid.
Besides, the only woman he’d been remotely attracted to since his arrival at SeaTac, just happened to think he was a card-carrying anarchist who couldn’t be trusted. At least, that’s what her expression had said this morning as she’d sashayed from a ward full of horny twenty-year-olds.
A low murmur of voices approached and a flash of ice-blue in his peripheral vision caught his attention. It was only when a tall curvy figure passed and moved further down the aisle that he realized it was the woman he’d just been thinking about. And she was being escorted by their boss, Dr. Peter Webster—smug ER director and all-round womanizing sleazebag.
Feeling his skull tighten, he watched as Webster indicated aisle seats a few rows down and slid in after her, moving until he was practically in her lap.
Luke narrowed his gaze and watched as Webster leaned close but with a quick head-shake Lilah Meredith shifted until there were a few inches between them. Were they involved or something?
And if he was asking himself what a married man was doing at a wedding without his wife, it was because he’d experienced first hand the devastation that kind of behavior left behind and not because the feeling in his gut felt very much like betrayal.
According to the grapevine, Webster had a habit of targeting young unmarried personnel and Luke wondered why no one had reported him. If there was one thing he hated more than a bully, it was someone using their position to sexually harass subordinates who needed their jobs.
And then he wondered why he cared that Lilah Meredith was involved with anyone. He didn’t.
After the service he joined a group of colleagues outside and waited for the newlyweds to leave the church. And while everyone pelted Greg and Jenna with rose petals Luke stood with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his free hand shoved into his pocket. When Lilah finally appeared, Webster’s proprietary hand was on the curve of her hip as he ushered her solicitously down the steps.
Solicitous, my eye, Luke snorted silently, and barely resisted the urge to head over and deck the smug bastard. He knew exactly what the man was thinking and it wasn’t good manners—especially not with Dr. Meredith dressed in that blue dress and short stylish black jacket. All she needed was a wide-brimmed black hat and she’d look like a sexy gaucho.
Besides, it was none of his business how, and with whom, Lilah Meredith spent her free time. For all he knew, she was enjoying all the attention she was getting from a “respected” professional who could do a lot for her career.
Besides, when he’d been a student it had been common knowledge that a lot of girls dated med students, hoping to snag themselves a doctor. He hadn’t thought Lilah Meredith was like that, but what the hell did he know?
Lilah drove through the huge iron gates and down the tree-lined road that led to the exclusive Greendale Hotel. Grimacing at the thought of how out of place her grandmother’s old sedan would look amongst all the luxury vehicles, she headed for the portico entrance. She didn’t know why she cared. It was way better than arriving in a low-slung sports car with a man who was not only her boss but reminded her of why her recent relief work in South America had gone so horribly wrong.
Peter Webster, with his charming smile, wandering hands and practiced seduction technique, was cut from the same cloth as her ex-boss, Dr. Brent Cunningham the Third—the person responsible for the Amazonian Disaster, as Lilah had come to think of that chapter in her life.
Like Brent, Peter suffered from a God complex and tended to think he was entitled to more than professional courtesy from his subordinates. As if Lilah should feel honored by his attention. She didn’t, and had experienced first hand what happened when men like him felt rejected and humiliated by someone like her. Careers suffered and lives were ruined.
Lilah told herself to remember that the next time she felt like kneeing the man in the nuts or punching that perfect nose. If there was one thing she hated, it was influential men taking advantage of vulnerable young women.
Lilah was neither that young nor