“Sure, but I never knew there was a timetable.”
“Well, there is. In fifty seconds, mine’s due up.” Judging by the fact that last almond didn’t even touch her anxiety, whatever happened at the end of those seconds was bound to be a doozy.
Lena studied her so long and thoroughly, Danica thought another of her friend’s questionable visions was about to strike, but then she just smiled, calling out the exceedingly cute dimple in her right cheek. “You know, most of the time you’re as boringly normal as they come, and then you go and say something totally whacked like this and I remember there’s hope for you yet.”
The alarm clock rolled over to ten o’clock. Any amusement Danica might have found in Lena’s words was forgotten in the wake of her heightened unease. “Time’s up.”
She looked around the office, half expecting the overflowing bookcase to fall on her, or the chaos on her desk to blow up in her face, or the bay window behind her to shatter, or…She swiveled in her chair, praying her customized golf cart hadn’t gone up in flames.
Nope. Still there, parked two stories below.
“Looks like your timetable’s off—Strike that.” Lena inhaled audibly. “Trouble’s headed this way. Don’t look like no cowboy, but I’d know the smell of Stetson anywhere.”
Danica swiveled back in her chair in time to see her friend exit her office as an unfamiliar man entered it, bringing with him the mouthwateringly spicy tang of cologne. Her belly did a slow warming, her inner thighs mimicking the intimate response as she took in the newcomer.
Lena was right. With his black power suit, which was completely inappropriate for the humid island weather, and polished Kenneth Coles, he didn’t look like a cowboy. Danica still had the urge to climb up his long legs and take him for a ride.
Wow! Where had that come from?
She never thought of sex while on the clock and nearly as seldom while off it. It wasn’t because she lacked Lena’s perfectly cute everything and the natural tanned complexion of her friend’s Hawaiian heritage—Danica liked her own fair complexion just fine. It was that she had too many other, more important, things to fill her days, namely seeing Private Indulgence, the elective surgery medical tourism resort she’d started up three years ago, continue to thrive in a way that would eventually allow for expansion into nonelective areas.
The guy moved into her office, assessing each inch before moving on to the next one. His measuring gaze landed on her. “Interesting place you have here.”
Holy killer eyes! They matched the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea right down to the sparkle.
The way Danica’s sex grew moist with the striking shade suggested his walking through her door might well be the third bad thing to happen to her this morning—by making her focus on something other than work. Even if she did have time for dating and he lived locally—doubtful, given his attire—and showed an interest, things would never work.
From his carefully styled dark blond hair and neatly trimmed mustache to the perfectly symmetrical divot in the knot of his gray silk tie, there was an order about him that his delectable appearance wouldn’t allow her to look past. Danica and order went together like Lena and celibacy—both would be happening the same time pigs sprouted wings.
She relaxed with the knowledge they wouldn’t be having sex. All but her churning stomach relaxed anyway. It was a little too coincidental he’d shown up right at ten. “May I help you?”
“I have a meeting with Dr. Crosby. I was told at the front desk that you’re her.”
“You do?” Pepsi withdrawal had to be playing hell with her memory. She didn’t do visual order, but her mind usually had a firm grasp on things.
Danica stood, offering her hand over the top of her desk, along with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, this week has been hectic. I recall it now, Mr…?” Shoot. So much for correcting her oversight.
His lips twitched as his gaze slid the length of her, eyeing her in a penetrating way that renewed the wetness between her thighs and made her want to squirm.
His gaze returned to hers, and he took her hand in a firm shake. “Jordan Cantrell.”
She made it a point to personally greet as many resort guests as possible, shaking dozens of hands each week, many of them male. Not one of them rendered visions of strong, warm hands sliding over her aroused, nude body the way Jordan’s did. Her jean skirt would allow easy access. The thin barrier of her panties barely an obstacle. She glanced at his fingers—ringless and long like the rest of him. Able to easily slide between her thighs and deep inside her slick pussy.
The increased twitching of his lips broke through Danica’s reverie. Heat flooded her face and undoubtedly flushed her fair skin with the reality of where her mind had traveled. As if her thoughts weren’t bad enough, he was silently laughing at her. Mocking would be the better word.
Damn it, she’d worked hard to see the resort gain a foothold in the fast-growing medical tourism industry and come far in the time since its launch. Too far to be made to feel incompetent by a man who didn’t know her from the Easter Bunny. Yet incompetent was exactly how she felt.
“I’m here to check out the resort for potential surgery,” Jordan supplied, his derisive tone making it clear how unimpressed he was so far.
She wanted to give him a tone of her own. Or forget the tone and tell him off outright. For the sake of the resort’s reputation, she refrained. “Of course you are.” Ignoring her damp panties, she forced a smile and rounded her desk. “Let me grab your file from my assistant and we’ll get started.”
Danica entered Lena’s next-door office as her friend stood from behind a desk that was so efficiently organized it made Danica feel dysfunctional by comparison. Lena flashed a smart-ass grin. “So, is he here to repossess your villa, or tell you an active volcano was discovered in the resort’s backyard?”
“Neither. He’s a potential patient.” And not even close to a gentleman. Danica ran a hand over her belly. God, she needed an almond, or maybe a handful of them. “He says he has an appointment with me this morning.”
“If he’s J. Cantrell, he has a ten-fifteen. He took over a late cancellation spot a few weeks ago. I was about to pull his file when you walked in.” She went to the rear wall, which was lined floor to ceiling with shelves of patient files, and pulled a thin manila one from the Cs. Halfway back to her desk, she stopped on an indrawn breath and gasped out a “Whoa!” that in Lena-talk meant she’d had a vision.
She crossed the rest of the way to Danica, handing her the file and sitting down without a word. Completely unlike Lena, who compensated for her small stature by being as vocal as possible. “Well? What was it about?” Danica prompted.
Lena didn’t look up. “You don’t want to know.”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
She looked up, her lips curving in an impish smile. “A Pepsiholic with one hairy armpit because she was too afraid to go back and finish the job.”
“Cute, Lena. Very cute.” Despite her follow-up groan, the friendly jab eased Danica’s tension—until she returned to her own office to find Mr. Hot, Blond, and Oppressive waiting in front of her desk.
Jordan happened to walk in right at ten—fifteen minutes early for his appointment—and made her have sexual thoughts for the first time ever while on the job, but that didn’t mean he was trouble. He could just be a pain in the ass.
She sat down on her side of the desk, popping two chocolate-covered almonds into her mouth before opening and quickly reviewing his file—all one and a half mostly blank pages of it. She looked up at him. Damned if a bolt of lust didn’t shoot through her with