Her Favorite Temptation Page 9

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t believe him. And he’d hurt her feelings. He reached out, allowing himself the small, forbidden luxury of sliding his fingers through the warm silk of her hair as he tucked it behind her ear. The urge to touch more, to slide his hand down the slender line of her neck, to cup one of her full, aroused breasts was a tom-tom demand in his blood.

  But he couldn’t do it to her. He had enough wreckage in his life at the moment, and he wasn’t about to add her to it.

  He let his hand fall to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Then she lifted her head. Her eyes were full of questions, but she didn’t ask them. Instead, she uncurled her legs and stood.

  He watched as she grabbed the glasses, wine bottle and chocolate wrapping, then he followed her into the kitchen.

  “Do you have a recycle bin?” she asked, indicating the bottle.

  “Just leave it on the counter. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

  She did as he suggested before returning to the living room to collect her phone and shoes. He didn’t try to convince her to stay. They both knew she needed to go now that they’d addressed the elephant in the room.

  “Thanks for listening,” she said as she stepped into the hall. “Your sisters have trained you well.”

  “I’m pretty sure they think there’s still room for improvement.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting.” She lifted her hand in a small, awkward wave. “Thanks for saving me from myself.”

  He couldn’t let her go like this. It felt wrong. Like a loss.

  He moved forward, resting a hand on her shoulder, leaning close. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  She was the one who retreated this time. He expected her gaze to be accusing—after all, he was the one who had rejected her. But her eyes were soft. Accepting.

  Two seconds later, her door closed behind her and he was alone in the hallway, turned on and full of regret.

  Good one, idiot.

  Maybe he should have told her. Laid it all out before her. At least then she’d understand that it wasn’t about her, at all.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind he knew he wouldn’t follow it through. This apartment was his haven, and Leah was a part of that. If he told her, he’d have to face all the questions and conversations he’d come here to avoid.

  No, it was better this way. Easier, anyway. He just had to remember to keep his hands to himself when he was around her.

  Nothing like setting himself an impossible challenge.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LEAH WOKE TO a headache and a roll call of regret. She shouldn’t have drunk all that wine. She shouldn’t have spilled her guts to Will. And she absolutely shouldn’t have tried to kiss him.

  Not the most auspicious start to her thirtieth year.

  Fragments from last night’s conversation came to her as she blinked up at her ceiling. Will telling her about one of the big parties he’d gone to after the music awards, Will describing his first limo ride. Will encouraging her to call her sister and set up a time to talk.

  You meet her for dinner or lunch, and you tell her what you told me.

  He’d made it sound so easy.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the way he’d offered her the phone, silently daring her to call Audrey then and there. Making her see what she needed to do.

  Okay, so last night hadn’t been a complete bust. And maybe telling him her woes hadn’t been the worst decision she’d ever made. He was a good listener.

  In all honesty, she couldn’t bring herself to truly regret trying to kiss him, either. At least she knew now, unequivocally, that nothing was going to happen between them. As painfully embarrassing and disappointing as that had been at the time, it was knowledge worth having. It would stop her constructing a vivid fantasy life around his bright blue eyes and lean, strong body and just-out-of-bed hair. This way, she understood the boundaries of their relationship—friends, and no more.

  “Crap.” The single word echoed quietly in her bedroom.

  She might not be the most experienced woman in the world, but she knew enough to know that Will was special. And not because he was famous and successful. Being with him would be good. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, she simply did. Something happened when he touched her, some magic between her skin and his. Having him inside her, having his weight press her into the bed, his hands on her breasts and backside...

  It would be good.

  Who are you kidding? It would be great. He’s easily the sexiest man you’ve ever met. And you want him, bad.

  She threw back the covers. There was no point wallowing in her bed. Will had made his position very clear last night. And she wasn’t the type to set herself up for heartache by pursuing the unattainable.

  At least, she hoped she wasn’t, because she had the feeling that Will Jones would be a very difficult man to get over.

  The first thing she did when she entered the living room was fling open the curtains. The sky was a bright, clear blue, with only a handful of fluffy white clouds on the horizon. Inspired by the brightness outside, she surveyed her living room. It needed a vacuum, and the pile of medical journals on her coffee table needed recycling. Then there were the dishes in the kitchen and the towering pile of dirty laundry in the corner of her bedroom.

  She clapped her hands together, the sound ringing loudly. “Right, let’s do this.”

  She strode toward the kitchen, but something caught her eye—a shiny square on the carpet just inside the front door. Frowning, she went to see what it was.

  A CD, the kind you burned yourself. She crouched to collect it and saw that someone had written on the shiny surface in black marker.

  So you don’t have to hit repeat quite so often. W.

  She smiled, warmed and more than a little thrilled that he’d woken up, thought of her and done this. Or maybe he’d had trouble getting to sleep last night after she’d left. Either way, it was balm for her ego. He may have rejected her last night, but she was starting to accept that he’d done so reluctantly.

  She booted up her laptop on the kitchen counter, sliding Will’s disk into the slot. Seconds later, the sound of his voice filled the space, along with a heart-stirring rhythm and beat. Before she knew it, she was dancing and singing along as she washed her way through the dishes. She moved on to the living room, vacuuming, then tackled her bedroom. She was about to play the album all over again when she noticed a new text message on her phone.

  Keep it down, Mathews. The neighbors are trying to sleep.

  It was from an unknown number, but she knew who it was. Grinning, she tapped an answer.

  Suck it up, Jones. You only have yourself to blame for creating such amazing music.

  It took a minute before his response arrived.

  That’s beautiful. Can we quote you on our next album cover?

  She leaned her hip against the counter and composed a reply.

  Sure. Don’t forget to include all the important letters after my name. People will be thrilled to know that your music is medically approved.

  She stared at her phone, waiting for his response, a smile hovering around her mouth in anticipation.

  I noticed all those letters. You’re only a couple of vowels short of a Scrabble set.

  She laughed, then immediately started typing.

  I’ll have to go on the hunt for some more so I’ve got the full set. Thanks for the heads-up.

  It was a couple of minutes before he responded.

  No problem. How’s your head?

  She winced. Had she been that drunk last night?

  Still attached to my neck. How’s your flu?

  This time he replied straight away.

  Last remnants of flu have officially been vanquished. />
  She typed a message telling him to let her know if he needed anything else, then read it and realized it might come across as too needy and eager. She quickly typed something suitably innocuous.

  She put down her phone, deciding that even if he did respond again, she should probably end the conversation there. Like a sensible person.

  She waited until midday to call her sister. Taking a deep breath, she sat on the couch and slowly pressed in Audrey’s number. Her stomach rolled nervously as the phone rang and rang, finally clicking over to an answering machine. Leah closed her eyes, trying to compose a suitable message. Before she could start to convey it, the answering machine beeped, signaling she was out of recording time, and cut her off. She stared at the handset, then put the phone down.

  She didn’t want to leave a message for her sister. She would try again later in the day.

  As it turned out, she got a call early the next morning from a friend who worked in the emergency department at the Alfred. They were down a handful of staff after a food-poisoning epidemic, courtesy of someone’s engagement party on the weekend, and looking for someone to bridge the gap for a few days.

  “I know you haven’t been down our way for a while, but I heard you were free and we would beg on bended knee to have you,” Katie pleaded.

  Leah was only too happy to agree to come in. She’d had a week of doing nothing, and it had messed with her head. Maybe a few days in the E.R. would give her an appreciation for all the spare time she’d won herself.

  It was dark when she got home, feet aching after a long, long day. As she knew from the rotation she’d done in Emergency during her training, some days the department operated smoothly, a well-oiled machine, doing its thing efficiently and calmly. Other days, it staggered from one burst of urgency to the next, demanding everything from the staff and pushing people to their limits.

  Today had been closer to the latter than the former, and it was all Leah could do to defrost dinner. She was so bone-tired, all she really wanted to do was crawl into bed, but there was something important she needed to do first.

  Leaning against the kitchen counter, she dialed her sister’s number for the fourth time in twenty-four hours. She braced herself for the answering machine yet again and was surprised to hear the distinct click of someone picking up.

  “Audrey speaking.” Her sister sounded a little breathless, as though she’d had to run to answer.

  “Audrey. It’s me,” Leah said. Her throat was suddenly, inexplicably thick and she had to cough to clear it.

  “Leah.” Audrey sounded stunned. As though she’d received a call from the man in the moon.

  “Have you got a minute? Or have I caught you at a bad time?” Leah nervously pleated the hem of her shirt between her fingers.

  “No. I mean, yes. I have a minute. I just got home from work, actually.”

  “I hear you. My chicken tikka masala is doing laps of the microwave as we speak.”

  “Frozen meals, Dr. Mathews? I’m surprised.”

  “Why? I’m human like everyone else. The last thing I want to do when I get home is slave over a hot stove.” The words were out her mouth before she could stop them, propelled by tiredness, guilt and nerves.

  “I was trying to be funny, Leah.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.” She took a deep, slow breath, trying to settle herself. She’d been gearing up for this phone call ever since their hideous family lunch. She refused to ruin it by being a dick.

  “Is everything okay?” Audrey asked cautiously.

  “Yes. I’m tired. Sorry.” Leah wanted to say more, but was worried that if she started, she’d never stop, and she didn’t want to do this over the phone. She wanted to be able to see her sister’s face.

  “Okay. Um...how’s being thirty treating you?”

  Leah had a sudden vision of how this conversation would go—both of them being polite, as always, skirting around the issues. All because she was tying herself in knots trying to find the exact, perfect way to do this.

  “Audrey, can we meet?” she asked abruptly. “Can we have lunch sometime, or dinner?” She held her breath, waiting for her sister’s response. It seemed to take a long time.

  “Sure. We can do that. Lunch or dinner. Whatever suits.”

  “Good. Great.”Leah sagged with relief before turning her mind to dates. She’d agreed to cover in the E.R. into next week, which meant she couldn’t guarantee her free time until her stint was up. “I can’t do anything this weekend, but how about next week sometime? Maybe Friday night?”

  “Sounds good. Where do you want to go?”

  Leah stared at the countertop, momentarily thrown. Her birthday lunch was the first time she’d eaten at an actual restaurant—as opposed to the hospital cafeteria or a take-out place—in months, and she couldn’t remember the name of a single decent restaurant. “I have no idea. Frozen tikka masala is pretty much my speed these days.”

  “I prefer the green curry chicken. More rice.”

  “Noted. I’ll try it.”

  “I’ll ask around for recommendations and get back to you,” Audrey suggested.

  “Look at us, two sad workaholics with no idea where to get a good meal. Mum and Dad trained us well, huh?” Leah snapped her mouth shut, aware that she’d let more than a little of her inner turmoil leak into her words.

  “Still getting heat over the immunology decision, are you?”

  Leah started as the pager in her pocket started to beep. She checked it distractedly. One of the nurses on duty was asking her to call in.

  “Probably until the day I die. Listen, I just got paged, so I need to go.”

  “Eat your dinner first.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m an expert at sixty-second meals. I’ll see you next Friday, okay?” Leah ended the call, punching in the hospital’s number straight away. To her relief, the nurse simply had a question regarding a test Leah had ordered, and she was able to clear things up quickly. Leaving her with plenty of time to “enjoy” her frozen meal and contemplate her date with her sister.

  She was going to do this. They were going to do this. Hopefully.

  Setting down her fork, she reached for her phone and typed in a quick text message.

  Just spoke to my sister. Dinner Friday of next week.

  She kept working away at her chicken dinner, waiting for Will to respond, only to nearly jump out of her skin when a knock sounded at the door.

  She was smiling as she went to answer it.

  “High five, Dr. Mathews. Excellent work.” Will held up his hand for her to slap.

  “I don’t know if I’ve earned a high five yet,” she said, but she took it anyway.

  “‘’Course you have.”

  His glance took in the scrubs she’d worn home from work, normally a big no-no but an absolute necessity today after a five-year-old with suspected appendicitis had tossed her cookies all over Leah after lunch.

  “I thought you were on a break until you started your new training?”

  It was probably deeply foolish, but she couldn’t help feeling a warm glow that he remembered the small details of her life.

  “I am. I’m helping out in the E.R. for a week or so. A big bout of food poisoning has taken out half the team.”

  “Dr. Mathews to the rescue.”

  “Hardly. It’s been a few years since I was in Emergency. I think the nurses were happy to see the back of me.”

  “I refuse to believe you’re not everybody’s favorite doctor,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to be stern and serious.

  He wore a dark blue turtleneck sweater with black jeans and worn boots. He looked every bit the “unable-to-look-away handsome” musician.

  “I have to ask—how long does it take for you to achieve this I-just-got-out-of-be
d look? One hour, two?” she asked impulsively.

  His mouth curled into a grin. “Are you picking on my coiffure, Doc?”

  “I bet you take longer to get ready in the morning than I do.”

  “Five minutes. Absolute tops.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Don’t believe me?” He pointed at his hair. “This is genuine bed hair, not the product of product.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said skeptically.

  “Feel it.” He reached for her hand, tugging her closer.

  She could feel heat rising into her face as she tested a strand near his left ear, rubbing it between her fingers. Sure enough, it didn’t feel loaded with wax or any other type of hair product. It felt soft, and warm from where it had been resting against his head.

  “See? All one hundred percent pure Will Jones,” he said.

  They were standing very close, only inches separating them. Leah’s gaze was drawn to the bristles peppering his jaw.

  “What about this? You can’t tell me you don’t work hard at this,” she said, reaching out to run her index finger along the line of his jaw. Even though deep inside she knew she was setting herself up for a fall.

  For some reason, when she was with this man, reason took a backseat to instinct every time.

  His gaze became intent as he watched her. “I freely admit I’m a lazy bastard. I hate shaving.”

  He tucked one finger into the hip pocket of her scrubs, connecting them and subtly drawing her closer.

  “What about you? How long does it take for you to tame that hair of yours?”

  “This morning? Four minutes, max,” she said.

  Heat pooled in her belly, radiating into her thighs and breasts. Everything felt heavy and slow—the beat of her heart, the blood in her veins.

  She swallowed, more than a little overwhelmed by the effect he had on her. And they were both fully clothed—she could only imagine what it would be like if they ever got naked together.

  The elevator pinged at the far end of the hallway, announcing the arrival of one of their neighbors. The reality check was like a bucket of icy water. They both blinked and took a hasty step backward.