BAILEY

It’s snowing outside. Big, fat flakes drop from the sky and accumulate on the ground, turning the parking lot into a winter wonderland. It’s fitting considering the interior of the restaurant NEMC rented out has been transformed to match. The party planners spared no expense. There are little Christmas vignettes in every corner of the room, fake deer and Christmas trees and those big, wrapped presents with nothing inside of them. There’s enough food and drink to fill us all ten times over. The heads of the hospital might have protested about spending money on June’s surgery, but they apparently have no qualms about dishing out big bucks for an event like this.

I shake away the thought and try to get into a more festive mood. There are only a few more days until Christmas! I have paid time off for the next ten days! SANTA IS COMING!

It’s no use though. There’s no room for cheer when I’m on high alert, scanning the room every few minutes on the off chance Matt arrived while I wasn’t looking. The event is even more crowded than Dr. Lopez’s retirement party. Every surgeon in the entire hospital is here with his or her family. Kids run around, high on sugar and the fact that they don’t have school in the morning. I’m standing in a group with Megan and Erika and their dates. I don’t have a date. Well, I have Josie. I glance over and find her exactly where I left her: sitting at a table by herself, reading a book and double-fisting bacon-wrapped shrimp. I watch as a cute boy her age—Dr. Richard’s son, if I’m not mistaken—walks over to try to engage her in conversation and she waves him away, not bothering to look up from her book. For my sake, I’m glad she’s currently choosing Harry Potter over boys. I’m not quite ready to play the role of angry, shotgun-toting father.

“No date tonight, Bailey?” Erika asks.

How dare she call me out in front of the whole group?!

For all she knows, I’m actually a loveless loser and not just pining after my angry, hot boss.

“Nope,” I reply, affecting a casual tone. “Just my sister.”

They glance over in time to see her steal yet another bacon-wrapped shrimp off a passing tray. Boy are we related or what?

“What about that blond guy from Smooth Tony’s?” Megan asks, tilting her head. “He was cute and he seemed into you. Did anything happen with that?”

Ha. Cooper. Boy are they behind. I’d need a million years to catch them up so I just shake my head and pretend I’m disappointed when I reply, “Nah, didn’t really pan out. He wasn’t ready for a relationship.”

It’s as good a lie as any and as they throw me sympathetic frowns, I chance another glance at the door, my heart leaping when I catch movement. Unfortunately, it’s only Dr. Goddard and his wife, followed by three blond children walking in perfect unison. Though adorable, they’re stuffed into uncomfortable-looking Christmas outfits that coordinate perfectly with Dr. Goddard’s suit and his wife’s dress. The whole effect is a little ridiculous.

“So how has it been working with Dr. Russell?” Megan asks, aiming a conspiratorial smile at Erika before continuing, “I’ll be honest, we didn’t think you’d last this long.”

Surely there’s something better to talk about. Maybe I should have launched into that discussion about Cooper after all. It’s better than having to look them in the eye and make up some phony reply about how, Actually, it’s not so bad guys. Ha ha. Yup, I just had to tough it out for the first few weeks and now we’ve really hit our stride.

Truthfully, that no-good jerk of a surgeon has stolen my heart and he’s about to walk through the door of this restaurant any minute and I’m not ready to face him. That phone call last night left my nerves frayed.

“Do you hear that? It’s the sound of me tearing that ‘contract’ in two.”

Ha! Well too bad, buddy, because I made copies!

I can still hear the determination in his voice. He really thinks I’m just going to throw caution to the wind and give in to this…this lust that’s been building inside me for the last few weeks.

I’m considering all of this, of course, as he arrives. One minute, the doorway is empty, and the next, Matt is striding through with all the confidence of a king. My entire body stiffens as I take him in from head to toe. He’s impossible to miss in a tailored black suit. No tie. His tan complexion stands out against his crisp white shirt. His slightly curly hair is inky black and thick. Heads turn in his direction, conversation halts around him. It’s as if God himself is making a debut at the party.

Before June’s surgery, his reputation was already larger than life. Now, it’s completely out of control. Surgeons from every floor of the hospital rush over to greet him and shake his hand. They clap him on the shoulder and act as if they’re the best of friends.

He smiles slightly and makes a good show of greeting everyone, but his eyes scan the room looking for…me.

HE’S LOOKING FOR ME.

I panic and turn back to the group, suddenly 100% positive I need to get the hell out of here.

I shouldn’t have come tonight.

My nerves are shot.

He’s a dream in that black suit, and Josie talked me into wearing this silky, short dress that seemed daring and sophisticated back at home but now just seems downright inappropriate. I look around for a jacket and home in on Erika’s date. He’s a big guy, wide around the middle—his jacket would cover me and then some.

“Hey, bud.” I say bud because I was distracted while he was introducing himself. “Could I borrow that jacket?”

He crosses his arms protectively over his chest and then replies weakly, “I’m actually kind of chilly.”

What kind of men are we raising in this country?!

I have half a mind to just rip it off him, but I don’t want to cause a scene. In fact, I want to do the exact opposite. I want to slink out of this party without Matt noticing me and run all the way home.

On a whim, I grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, down it in one long sip, and then hand it back. The group stares at me as I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.

The waiter is deeply impressed with my abilities. “Um, would you like another glass, ma’am?”

I want every flute on his tray, but that won’t solve my problem. I shake my head and thank him before addressing the group.

“Listen, guys, I’m not feeling well all of a sudden—”

“Probably because you just shot-gunned champagne like you were at a frat party,” Erika cuts in, deeply suspicious of my weird behavior.

I wave away her insane suggestion. “No. I was feeling bad before that.”

“What hurts?” Megan asks, concern oozing from her pores. She’s way more gullible than Erika, clearly.

“My head.” That’s not enough to convince Erika, so I add, “And my…” I suddenly can’t think of a single part of the human body. “Aaarm? Yes, my arm.” I cradle it against my chest. “I’m going to head home. Merry Christmas, everyone!”

I turn and scan the party for the best route. There’s only one entrance and Matt’s blocking it, but I’m hoping by the time I reach Josie, one of his many admirers will have drawn him farther into the room and I’ll sneak out without him even knowing I was here. It’s the only option I have. I move quickly, like I’m on a stealth mission. I push my hair over my left shoulder and use it like a curtain to shield my face on the off chance Matt looks in my direction.

It takes me forever to reach Josie because I’m forced to duck behind Christmas trees or bend down to adjust my heels just to throw him off my scent. I nearly do a barrel roll before I think better of it.

“Josie!” I hiss as I rush forward and slam her book closed. “Hurry. We have to go.”

She groans. “Are you kidding?! You just bent my page! And I didn’t have a bookmark in there. It’ll take me forever to find my place.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.” I round the table and hook my hands under her arms to haul her to her feet. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another book—ten books. Just—”

A hand wraps around my bicep and I jump out of my skin.

“Bailey,” Matt says right beside my ear, cool and unaffected. “Not running off already, I hope?”

Josie jerks away from me to reclaim her seat and Matt uses his grip on my arm to spin me around slowly. I keep my gaze carefully pinned on his chest. My cheeks burn. The amusement in his tone makes it clear he saw every bit of that little charade. I’m more glad than ever I didn’t attempt that barrel roll.

I gulp and nod. “I am. You see, my arm is—” I look down at my useless, perfectly functioning arm. “Injured.”

It sounds pitiful even to my own ears.

He laughs acerbically then bends down to address my sister. “Josie, if you’ll excuse us, I need to have a word with your sister.”

“No she will not ex—”

Josie yanks her book back to her side of the table and starts to flip through it to find her page, unbothered by Matt’s grip on my arm. “You’re excused.”

Choosing Harry Potter over her own flesh and blood?! I would do the same, but how dare she?

Matt keeps his hand on my arm as he leads me away from the table and over to a corner of the room partially concealed by one of the more over-the-top holiday scenes. Massive deer leap through the air, frolicking around white-flocked Christmas trees. I ask Matt if he likes the decorations and his eyes narrow on me.

Oh, I see. The pleasantries are gone now that we’re all alone.

“Did you or did you not ask me to come tonight?” he asks, tone deceptively calm.

I swallow and look away. “I did.”

“So then why were you about to leave?”

I’m not ready to admit the truth—or rather, I’m too embarrassed.

When I don’t speak, his grip on my arm loosens and then he releases me. Disappointment hits me square in the chest.

“I won’t do this, Bailey. I won’t chase you. I told you last night I’m done with the contract. If that scares you, I’m going to listen and respect that. Do you understand? I won’t force my way into your heart.”

“‘Force your way into my heart?’” I echo back at him, sounding incredulous. My gaze clashes with his in outrage. “You think you still need to force your way in? You’re there, Matt! In every damn nook and cranny. That’s why I’m running! That’s why I drew up that silly contract!”

He reaches for my hand and I don’t realize I’m trembling until I feel how steady his grip is on me.

“What are you saying?”

“I can’t be any clearer.”

He laughs, his face betraying every ounce of his elation. I’ve never seen him so breathtakingly handsome. “Well you’ll have to be because I don’t want any more misunderstandings.”

My eyebrows pinch together. “Do you honestly expect me to declare my feelings for you here of all places? That deer is following me with its eyes. Everyone in this room is looking at us right now. They saw you drag me over here like a caveman, and I’m sure they’re waiting for something to happen, a kiss—or a slap, more like.”

“Out of the two, I know which one I’d prefer,” he replies coolly, unbothered by the idea of everyone watching us. I suppose in some ways, he’s used to it.

I, however, am not.

Matt steps forward and threads his fingers through mine. The gesture is intimate. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. My stomach quivers as his gaze falls heavy on my mouth. He’s going to kiss me right here in front of everyone! He’ll do it! And that’s the only reason I force him to follow me down the hallway just to our right and drag him through the first door I see.

It’s a bathroom. Good! I lock the door and whirl around to face him, finger poking his big, manly chest. Admittedly, it probably hurts me more than it hurts him, but he needs to know I’m serious.

“You were going to kiss me out there!” I say, outraged. “In front of everyone!”

His hand reaches out and he fists the front of my dress, using the silky material as a means to pull me toward him. I stumble over my heels and collide into him. He’s a rock, unmoving even when my full weight knocks into him. His hands at my waist keep me steady. His muscular thighs press against mine. My hands are on his chest, palms flat so I feel every breath, every heavy thump of his racing heart. His fingers twist the fabric of my dress and the silk brushes against my thigh, hiking up a few more inches so my bare legs brush against his suit pants.

I force myself to glance up at the tall, daunting man poised to wreck my world. His dark brows are tugged together. His blue eyes hold back a storm of emotion as he stares searchingly into mine, trying to find the answer to some unspoken question.

I’m shaking as if he has me on the edge of a cliff. One single finger could push me over. I’d tumble down, and right now, there’s no way to know what awaits me at the bottom. Pain, love, heartache, elation—each is as likely as the last and I can’t willingly do this to myself. I can’t give myself over to a man who has the power to upend my life so easily.

I make a small move to step away at the exact moment he bends his head and captures my mouth in an endless, passionate kiss. His strong grip keeps me there, pressed against him. I feel drugged as he kisses me again and again, his hands shifting higher, stroking and teasing and caressing everywhere within his reach. His thumb curves around my ribs and brushes the very edge of my breasts through my dress. His mouth slants over mine and I shudder. It’s seduction, pure and simple. I’m helpless and frozen, using all of my wits just to stay standing, let alone kiss him back. My hands haven’t moved from his chest. I’ve forgotten how to execute the simple act of breathing.

He pulls back and his hand wraps around my chin so he can lift my face toward his. His beautiful features are masked by desperate need. It’s nearly enough to break my heart when his lips press against my temple, my cheek, the delicate groove just below my ear. My eyes are pinched closed as tingles ricochet down my spine.

“Kiss me,” he pleads, his hands sliding around me, hauling me up against him so there’s no space left between us. “Bailey…kiss me.”

The words are as effective as a puppeteer’s strings. The longing in his tone breaks the final chains straining around my heart. His parted lips find mine again and this time, I’m not frozen. I’m a woman taking exactly what she wants. I moan with hot need, tangling one hand in the thick hair at the base of his neck at the same moment my mouth opens and my tongue teases his. I kiss him with a hurried fervor, suddenly too anxious for this. I kiss him with all the desire I’ve foolishly tried to repress, every bit of longing that’s built up over the last few weeks.

His response is a deep, hungry groan and it lights a fire inside me. Now we kiss with no holds barred. His hand wraps around my thigh and my leg lifts of its own accord. My dress slides up to my waist and his hand shifts higher, dragging across the heated skin of my upper thigh so he can keep my leg wrapped around his hip. My stomach tightens in anticipation. Sizzling desire floods my system.

We kiss until my lips are sore, until I have to break away and gasp for breath, until I feel lightheaded and dizzy with need. If I had a bottle of water within reach, I’d dump it on my head. Everywhere he touches, it feels like he’s dragging a flame across my skin. It sears. It ignites. It turns me on to the point of clothes-tearing, nails-dragging, teeth-biting insanity.

My hands are on his suit pants and I’m fumbling with the button, like gimme, gimme, gimme.

I want him to push me up against this wall and end my three-year dry spell. I want to finally know what it feels like to have Matt drive into me and lose control, rock his hips against mine and…I’m saying all of this to him. Every word spills out and Matt is cursing under his breath and tugging on my panties, trying to drag them down my hips, and Jesus.

“Just tear the damn things!” I plead, near tears.

He does and stuffs them in his pocket. Dammit, those were my good panties, but who the hell cares, because Matt’s fingers are between my legs and I’ve watched him operate with those hands, but this is what they were really meant to do. This is…this is…

DEAR GOD.

His hand glides back and forth and he likes how ready I am, how very, very, very wet I am. For him.

He presses his mouth to the shell of my ear and tells me how good I feel as his finger slides into me.

My mouth drops open and I’m not one hundred percent sure my jaw doesn’t come unhinged because DR. RUSSELL drags his finger out slowly and adds a second, and that gentle pumping turns not so gentle. I’m grinding against the heel of his palm as he shifts us to the left and pushes me against the wall. It’s almost humiliating how easily I’m coming undone, how easily two little (okay, big) fingers can make me mewl like a kitten.

“I want you,” I demand sharply, sounding nearly possessed with need, but he’s the one thinking clearly, because he shakes his head and uses the pad of his thumb to swirl in the exact spot that makes my toes curl and my eyes pinch closed.

Those first few waves of pleasure start to crest, but he staves them off, working me up even more before his thumb returns, swirling just slowly enough to put me in a straitjacket.

“There’s not time,” he insists, his voice velvety and commanding before he quiets my protests with his mouth. His teeth bite my lip and he’s a little rough, but then I knew he would be. That softness he hides from the world is lost in this moment too. The man doing wicked things to me in this bathroom is the same man who inspired that devil picture in the lounge. This is the hotshot surgeon with all the confidence in the world, the man who scares me as much as he excites me.

He pulls back and watches me with hooded eyes as his fingers continue killing me slowly. His faint smirk tells me he’s pleased by every one of my moans and whimpers.

Except for one hip pressing me against the wall and his fingers pumping in and out, he doesn’t touch me. He stays just like that, disengaged enough that he can watch what he’s doing to me. It feels like I’m performing for him. Maybe later, I’ll be embarrassed by my flushed skin and swollen lips, but right now, I like his eyes on me. I like letting him do this to me.

A heavy fist knocks on the bathroom door and I jump out of my skin.

Matt’s fingers curl into me.

The door handle jostles as a deep voice asks, “Is someone in here?”

Matt’s thumb swirls faster and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from crying out.

His gaze finds mine and he shakes his head, pressing a finger to his mouth.

There’s another knock as the person grows more impatient. I have half a mind to shout, WE’RE ALL IMPATIENT, OKAY, BUDDY?!

I’ve waited so long for this moment, and the idea that it could be taken away in an instant makes me more desperate than ever. My chest rises and falls in quick succession. My hand hits Matt’s wrist and I grip it hard. The gesture says, If you stop, I’ll kill you.

His smirk turns him into a devil and he gets the hint because there’s no slow teasing anymore. There’s only his thumb and his eyes on me and “I’m going to come,” I whisper. His hand covers my mouth at the precise moment the peak of pleasure crashes into me. Ricochet after ricochet. Tingles rack me from head to toe. I cry out against his hand and he smothers the sound as best as he can, but it’s still probably not enough. The pope, my first-grade teacher, and my grandmother could be standing outside that bathroom door and I wouldn’t be able to stay quiet.

Matt’s hand makes it hard to breath, but this orgasm is never ending, and I live in the clouds now. I refuse to float back down to earth. His mouth presses against my forehead in a chaste kiss and his hand eases a little bit.

“Bailey?” he asks, his tone tinged with amusement. “I’m going to move my hand now.”

I nod to let him know I’m not going to do anything crazy, like proclaim, DR. RUSSELL IS DOING DIRTY THINGS TO ME IN HERE, EVERYONE.

Though, just to be clear, a part of me does want to do that.

He steps back, slowly pulling his hips away from mine, and I take stock of my body: my limbs are somehow still intact, my breathing is slowly returning to normal, my cheeks are still flushed, and they’ll probably stay that way as long as Matt is looking at me with that knowing gleam in his eyes. I adjust my dress, step toward the mirror, and cringe. My mouth says, I’ve been naughty. My hair is a riotous mess. I drag my fingers through it and try to get it to lie as flat as possible, but there’s no way to get it back to normal.

I groan as reality sinks in.

We’re at the company Christmas party.

I’m not wearing any panties.

There’s still someone waiting outside the door.

“How the hell are we going to get out of here?” I ask, peering at his reflection over my shoulder.

Matt’s apparently already thought of that.

When I’m good to go, I give him a thumbs-up, and he tugs open the door just enough to stick his head out.

“Dr. Richards.” He winces gently. “I need help. I’ve been throwing up nonstop—food poisoning or something.”

“What?!” Dr. Richards groans. “Are you okay? You didn’t have the spinach dip, did you? Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have gone back for seconds.”

“No, no. Just go get me some water, will you? And something to settle my stomach if you can find it.”

Dr. Richards mutters something under his breath and Matt watches carefully as he turns down the hallway to complete his errand. The moment he’s out of sight and the coast is clear, Matt straightens, adjusts his coat jacket, and offers me his elbow.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I shake myself out of my impressed stupor.

“Honestly, you went into the wrong profession,” I tease. “That performance was worthy of an Oscar.”