Playboy Doctor (7 page)

She stopped at the askew picture frame, as though cast aside, or maybe placed that way on purpose. Giving into temptation, she turned it around. Three young men took up the entire ornate silver picture frame. Each one shared the same soulful brown eyes. Each one just as handsome as the next. But the one who caught her attention?

Shayne.

Willow sat on the edge of the bed. With tentative fingers, she traced the lines of his face, carving out the details of the noble features of the surgeon in the photo.

He appeared determined and ambitious. Ready to take a bite out of life. The photographer captured his very soul with one click of a camera shutter.

Willow swallowed hard. An aching need pooled low in her belly. The unexpected response to his picture caught her by surprise. Why did she react so hotly to this man? A man she barely knew, yet a man she knew all too well. A man with no heart when it came to loving and leaving women.

She'd already been with someone who'd had no heart. A detached man who'd kept his ambivalence toward her under wraps. She'd married someone she thought she knew, when in fact, she had married an emotional stranger.

So why the reaction to the heart surgeon now? She had no right to the ache of desire for Shayne. What had gotten into her? She needed to tamp down the pesky cries of need. Desire would only leave her vulnerable.

She squared her shoulders, had to be rid of the picture. She couldn't have Shayne's image in the bedroom with her.

With frame in hand, she padded into the living room and gently placed the picture on the mantel. But it did nothing to squelch her heightened awareness. She tiptoed into the kitchen for a glass of water. Anything to cool her insides. With only a dim nightlight to guide her, she fumbled for a glass and filled it.

She was raising the glass to her lips when her eyes met those of the shirtless man taking up space in the kitchen entry.

Shayne, wearing nothing but boxers, scratched his ruffled mass of dark locks with one muscled arm. The movement caused his immense pecs to flex and broaden. His skin glowed in the warm light, casting shadows on the cut ridges of his abdomen.

Startled, Willow's breath came in a sharp gasp. She froze. Was she dreaming?

Shayne's gaze ran along the length of her. His blazing scrutiny fired off a scorching heat to her cheeks. He pointed to her body, like a hot saber to her core.

"My shirt suits you," he said in a tone, thick and husky.

This was no dream. Shayne Edwards was real and he'd caught her scantily clad in the middle of his kitchen. She couldn't utter a sound. Couldn't move a muscle. Fumble-fingered with surprise, she let the glass she was holding slip from her hand and smash to pieces on the floor.

* * *

The last thing Shayne expected was to see Willow standing there in the middle of his kitchen. He'd come downstairs to get something cool to drink, believing she slept soundly in the other room. He'd crept into the kitchen, noiseless, to be sure he didn't wake her.

He had tried to sleep. Really he had. His slumber didn't last long as Willow's heavenly image kept invading his dreams, rousing him awake. He'd been more than aware of her in the guest room, sleeping in little more than his shirt. Even when he dozed off, he'd been consumed with curiosity as to what she looked like. The onslaught of sensual images had him propped up in bed with annoyance.

Then again, he never dreamed his curiosity would be satisfied as he took in the sight her in great detail, from her slender legs to the curve of a breast, her creamy flesh peeking out from the barely buttoned shirt.

His
shirt.

Willow's locks of blonde hair formed into soft curls that framed her face. The image was a far cry from the medical professional he'd come to know in straightforward scrubs and swept back hair.

Lightning outside flared and lit up the kitchen so he could get an even better look.

Damn. She looked good. Too good. Too comfortable. Too sexy in his shirt. Like she'd belonged in his shirt all along. The sight made him want to grab her, draw her to him, and discover all the delectable mysteries hidden underneath.

He reigned in his physical reaction to her. Had to keep his carnal instincts on a short leash. He had bigger problems than dealing with his primal reaction. Willow stood there helpless, surrounded by a sea of shattered glass, shock and awe playing over her heavenly features. Boy, she was in a pickle. And he was to blame.

He pointed to her bare feet, which had been spared of any flying shards. At least he could see no blood from where he stood.

"Don't move," he commanded.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You sure made a mess of things."

"I wouldn't have made any mess if you didn't insist I spend the night here." Willow fastened a taut fist to her hip.

Shayne didn't need a stethoscope to hear the irritation in her tone. Was it so bad to be here with him?

"Stay right there. I'll get you out of this."

Barefoot as well, Shayne went in search of footwear. A moment later, he returned in the sport sandals he reserved for beachcombing.

He took a step toward her.

"Stop." Willow held up a palm. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to pull you out of this mess."

Shayne took another step closer.

"Wait." Willow still held up her arm. "Can't you just bring me my shoes?"

"If you try to put on your shoes, you might lose your balance and fall on the glass." Shayne stepped toward her again.

"No broom?" She asked, stopping him again.

"I've no idea. A cleaning service has been arranged."

"But I need to clean this before someone gets hurt."

"The only one who'll get hurt is you. Now let me help."

Willow slouched her shoulders in acquiescence like she did whenever she was about to give into his demand. "Fine."

He ventured further. With every step, glass crunched under his feet until he came toe to toe with Willow. He extended his hands.

"This is so embarrassing." A nervous laugh escaped her. "Let's get this over with."

She raised both arms and wrapped them around his neck. The warmth of her hands seeped into his skin. He liked her embrace... liked it too much and had to appear unaffected. After all, he had to be strong and self-assured if she were to trust his every move to help.

"Ready?" he tried to ask casually but the way her eyes sought his, she drove him to distraction.

"Uh-huh."

On the count of three, he bent down, wrapped one arm around her shoulders, the other around her legs.

He swept her into his embrace.

Just like he had in his dreams.

Willow let out a small squeal, which made him laugh in turn. She clung to him. "Don't let go."

"Never fear. I'll rescue you, milady."

"I feel so corny..." She buried her head in his chest, her soft curls tickling his skin. With her flesh pressed against his, he carried her away from the threat of glass.

A smile formed on his lips. He stepped out of the kitchen, then headed into the living room. He should have let her go by now—instead he carried her toward the sofa. She didn't try to stop him.

What was he doing?

He was acting on instinct. Acting like a man in need. A man who desired a woman. He hadn't endured this kind of desire in a long time. And it was all Willow's fault. He didn't know if he should blame her or thank her. She brought out the worst in him. Brought out a feral hunger he could no longer hold captive. Not when it came to her. How could he stop now?

He lowered them both to the sofa, but kept her on his lap. She didn't fight him. Didn't deny him having her body against his. Relief swept through him. Perhaps she wanted him as much as he wanted her? Her arms remained wrapped around his neck, but now light fingers stroked the hair at the back of his neck, sending zaps of electricity down his spine.

Her expression, so suggestive, settled on his. He could have been reading into her sultry expression too much, but when she nibbled her bottom lip like that, his need to claim those lips became all-consuming.

"Willow," he whispered. Her name rolled like a bubbling brook over his tongue.

"Yes," she prompted, breathy and seductive. He heard the whimper of need in one word.
Yes
.

If he were to claim her in a kiss, just this once, would she understand she could never claim his heart? His was an unfair offer, one he had to make clear.

"I'm only here for a short while."

"I know."

"Only to teach surgery."

"Yes."

There was that word again. He knew for certain how to read her response. She understood. And she said yes. Shayne curled his hand around the small of her waist, more than ready to draw his lips to hers.

Chapter 6

Willow set her gaze on the curve of Shayne's mouth. A mouth so beautiful should be illegal. Her senses were as fragile as a tinderbox. A single spark cast off from Shayne would set her ablaze, leaving her helpless to resist him.

She set aside the reality of their situation. His future here would be short-lived. The truth of the situation alone should have been enough for her pull from his hold. And yet, at that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

She tried to gather her wits, but then Shayne's lips parted and stretched back into a boyish grin. The lethal mix of seduction and invitation in those lips had Willow melting. He was going to kiss her.

She couldn't hold back from kissing Shayne now, no matter how much she should try.

Shayne's lips lightly swept over hers, tentatively at first, testing her, teasing her. When he finally pressed his lips fully against hers, she lost all reason and thought only of him. She sank into his embrace.

With his lips on hers, he drew out a deeper desire to know more of him. Tender and sensual, he took his time with each and every sultry kiss. She indulged in the languid treat by kissing him back. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to caress her mouth. She welcomed his exploration with her own tongue. He tasted of hunger and need and she delighted in finally knowing what it was like to kiss Shayne Edwards.

Each caress of his mouth sent flames of desire licking through her core. If his kisses were enough to send her spiraling, she wondered what the rest of him could do. But she couldn't think beyond that, not with his lips sinking against hers in another soul-searing kiss.

A kiss full of want, a kiss full promise.

But he'd promised nothing.

A bolt of lightning cracked too close to the townhouse. The electrically charged air around them crackled in a flash of white. Startled, Willow stiffened and broke from his kiss.

A harsh reality set in. She was kissing a man despite knowing he'd eventually be leaving. A surgeon who didn't stay anywhere for too long. Willow shouldn't be giving herself to a man hell-bent on leaving here as fast as he'd come. Had she learned nothing in the past year?

Her body had wanted to be embraced and so, it took over her senses. But her heart, still too frayed at the edges, couldn't risk being so vulnerable. Not when she already knew the outcome.

Another bolt struck. Willow swallowed.

"It's all right," he soothed.

"No, it's not all right. You're my boss."

Once Shayne's muscles relaxed enough to fully release her, she slid off his lap. Coming off his amazing kisses, she took a moment for her pulse to calm.

"What were we doing?" She sat beside him at a respectable distance.

"I don't know." He dragged his fingers through his inky black locks as though to stave off his frustration. "I'm sorry. I never should have taken advantage..."

But she had wanted him to. She couldn't deny it. Nor could she let him take all the blame.

"No, don't be sorry. It takes two."

"Willow," he began as he rose from the sofa. He slowly paced. "There's too much you don't know about me, before you..."

The ache in his voice tugged at her. A painful history lay within his few guarded words.

"What is it?" She had to approach carefully here as she treaded on emotionally dangerous territory.

He stepped back and kept a good distance away, until he saw on the mantel the silver picture frame she'd left earlier.

"What happened here?" He picked up the frame and frowned at the image. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in the guest room. I guess it caught my eye."

"I'd forgotten I left it in there."

He brought the framed photo back to the mantel and unceremoniously plunked it face down behind a row of large pillar candles.

"I brought it out here on my way to the kitchen. It's a handsome photo." She omitted the part about not being able to have his gorgeous image share the same bedroom with her.

"It came in a package."

"A care package from Mom, I suppose?"

He responded with a curt nod. "To her, I'm still twelve," he said in a light tone at odds with his grim expression. "I'd left it in the guest room for a reason."

"Oh?"

"Yes, so I wouldn't have to look at it."

The simmering resentment emanating from him reached her. Another flare of lightning ignited the hard planes of his face.