Chapter One
“You have all of two seconds to tell me who that is.” I dipped a corn chip into the salsa in front of me and pointed it threateningly at my BFF. I’d been in great spirits until I’d arrived at Rebecca’s party and seen who else had been invited. But eyeing the unknown hottie over by the drinks table was a definite balm to my irritable mood.
“And then another two seconds to tell me why I’ve never laid eyes on him before.” I salivated, and it had nothing to do with the yummy chip and dip I held.
Rebecca’s gaze followed mine to the gorgeous man pouring himself a scotch. Even from a distance, I couldn’t help but notice his long, slim fingers as they wrapped around the bottle, or the precision with which he poured.
“That’s Jack Scott. New recruit to the Pulmonary and Critical Care Ward.”
“Jack Scott.” I let the name roll off my tongue. “Doctor? Nurse? Other?”
“Pulmonary resident.”
So, doctor specializing in all issues to do with the lungs. The reason I knew as much was Rebecca worked as a nurse on said ward and had been there for the last four years. She’d versed me on all issues breathing-related.
The term TMI never meant much to Bec.
“And the reason I haven’t yet heard about him is…?”
“He just arrived. Stepped off the plane from Australia last week.” So the hot doc was from Down Under. Sexy Australian accent? Yes, please.
“He’s been at the hospital about four days now. Newest addition to the ward. Nice enough guy. Pleasant on the eyes.”
Pleasant on the eyes? Seriously? “Vision test time, girlfriend.” And an age test. Who spoke like that? “He’s about the hottest thing I’ve seen this year. This decade.” Parts of me tingled—and I’m not referring to my fingers and toes.
“I suppose. If you like the unshaven, shaggy look.” She grinned.
I grinned back. Beards and mustaches weren’t my slice of cake. Not the whole I’ve been growing my facial hair for months thing, anyway. But give me a guy who’d neglected to shave for a couple of days and my knees turned weak. Add longer-than-necessary hair and locks that fell over his eyes, and I was a goner.
Doctor Scott had unruly, light brown hair that curled over his eyebrows and past his shirt collar, as though he were a good few months overdue for a cut. And with those high cheekbones and a square jaw that hadn’t seen a razor…
Oh. My.
“See?” Bec nudged my hip with hers. “Told you there was a reason you had to be here tonight.”
As a rule, I avoided Bec’s parties like the plague. Know how much fun it is being in a house full of people who only talk hospital-talk? Blood, guts, gore, death, illness?
Not so much.
Well, not for me anyway.
I preferred to stay at my restaurant, tucked away in the kitchen, lost in the joy of churning out decadent desserts.
There was another reason I avoided these parties: the cause of my current grumpy state—an evil pediatrician I’d dated six months back. Things hadn’t ended well. But I’m getting off the point. Why discuss slime when perfection stood before me?
“Okay,” I begrudgingly concurred. “You were right. He’s got Isabella’s-type written all over him.” That’s me. Isabella De Luca—single, grumpy, dessert chef at the popular, family-owned Italian restaurant down the road from the hospital, De Lucas. Yep. I know. Highly original name. Don’t blame me. It was my dad’s idea.
“It’s been a while, Bells. Have fun. Take a breather from work. Twenty-nine is way too young to chain yourself to a job.”
I glared at Bec. The restaurant was hardly a job. It was my life. Mine and my family’s.
“Not gonna help shooting me the death look. You need to get laid, and Jack Scott’s a perfectly lay-able type.”
True that.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Does the new doctor know you have his night planned out for him?”
Her eyes gleamed. “I might have mentioned something about a friend I wanted him to meet.”
I groaned out loud. “You didn’t.”
Know how I said earlier the term TMI never meant much to Bec? There was no telling what she might have said to Hot Scott about ‘her friend.’ Could have been anything from, “I have someone I’d like you to meet,” to “I have someone who needs to get laid. Make sure and bring loads of condoms to the party.”
“Relax.” Bec laughed. “I didn’t embarrass you. Promise.” She took a sip of her drink, as she mumbled, “Not much, anyway.”
“’Kay, that’s it. I’m leaving.” I picked up the large tray of cannoli I’d made for tonight and headed for the door. She’d definitely mentioned condoms.
Bec stepped in front of me. “First of all, put the cannoli down and step away from the tray. Secondly, you’re not going anywhere.”
My death glare was back. “What did you say to him?”
She relieved me of the tray, setting it back on the table. “I just told him I had a friend I wanted him to meet. I may have added you’re a gorgeous, hot-tempered Italian, with a body to die for and a magic touch in the kitchen. And bedroom.”
I dropped my face in my hand, grateful I was now facing away from the good doctor. “So basically, you made shit up.”
“Oh, please. You’re gorgeous, grumpy, and flipping amazing in the kitchen. What did I lie about?”
Gorgeous, yeah, not so much. Buxom, more like it. With too many curves for my liking. While Bec was blond, slim, and sporty, and I often wished I was built like her, I was dark-haired and dark-eyed, with ample, well, everything. And the fact I enjoyed eating my desserts as much as I liked making them didn’t help matters much.
“I have it on good authority.”
I gaped at her, holding my hands up in question.
“Grant may be a creep, but he’s a chatty creep.” Grant Wilson, evil pediatrician and ex almost-boyfriend.
“He might have mentioned once or twice how awesome you were in the sack. Creep.”
I shuddered. “He talks about me? About our sex life?”
“He has. Despite my telling him to show you some respect and shut the hell up.”
“Do me a favor? Next time he brings it up, kick him in the balls for me, will you?”
“Happily.” She grinned. “I might be suspended for assaulting a colleague, and I’m not sure how Pete will feel about it, but it’ll be worth it.” Pete, Bec’s housemate. Also a nurse at All Saints, but he worked on the pediatric ward. Yep, he’s the common link. The reason I met Grant in the first place.
I still haven’t forgiven Pete for that one.
“I’m leaving now.”
“You can’t. You haven’t met Jack.”
“Which is a good thing, seeing as he knows altogether too much about my sex life.”
“It’s a terrible thing. You haven’t heard him speak yet. His accent’s super cute. You’ll go postal when you hear how he parks his car.”
The way Bec said it, I heard how he puhrks his cuhr.
I helped myself to another chip and salsa, caught between wanting to leave and wanting to hear all about Jack Scott’s adorable accent.
“Someone mocking the way I talk again?”
The air behind me changed. Static electricity prickled up my spine.
Bec looked over my shoulder with a sly grin. “Jack. Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
So much for leaving the party before facing the hot doctor.
“Rebecca,” the deep voice behind me said. Deep and accented, just like Bec had told me, but much, much better than I’d imagined. “Always making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Face it, babe. You talk funny.”
“Babe?” I mouthed at my friend, just as Jack said out loud, “Babe?”
“God, you two are so perfect for each other.” Bec’s smile grew. “Jack, meet Isabella De Luca, expert dessert maker and all-round genius cook. Isabella, meet Jack Scott. Newest doc on the pulmonary ward.” Ever the subtle one, she took both of my shoulders and physically turned me to face the doctor. “He talks funny,” she added, “but he has a heart of gold.”
I wanted to respond, say hello, chastise my best friend, race to the front door, but really, all I could do was stare in wonder. From across the room, Jack was hot. Up close, he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous.
Like, sucking the breath from my lungs gorgeous.
Lucky for me he was a respiratory doctor.
I’ve never been tongue-tied over men, but Jack Scott…
Tall, with dark brown eyes accentuated by high cheek bones, a straight nose, and full lips that just begged to be kissed, he was the whole package. Long-legged, slim, and broad shouldered, too. If medicine hadn’t been his calling, he could easily have gone into modeling. Or acting. Or just plain standing around making people happy simply by looking good.
But what got me, what really got me, deep in my belly and maybe a little lower, was the dimple that flashed on his right cheek as he smiled at me.
“Good to meet you, Isabella.” He extended his hand, and mesmerized, I placed mine in his. His grip was firm, his skin warm. The doctor smelled all fresh and citrusy and tangy, like he’d just walked through a grove of orange trees. Yum. If I spent years in my kitchen, I couldn’t concoct a dessert as appetizing.
“Her friends call her Bella. You should, too,” Bec supplied helpfully. She’d obviously picked up on the fact I couldn’t put two words together. Not with that delicious scent tantalizing my nose.
“Good to meet you then, Bella.”
I stared at Dr. Sexy. I could listen to him saying my name forever. Maybe even whispering it in my ear, or yelling it out in the throes of passion…
“She does talk. I swear.” Rebecca nudged me with her elbow. “Seems the cat has her tongue tonight.”
Right then, I decided that when I got home, I was whipping up an orange and syrup cake, covering it with cream cheese frosting, and digging in with gusto. Because Jack Scott made me want to tuck into all that citrusy goodness…and lick off every drop of creamy topping I could find.
“Perhaps I can help find the cat and get her tongue back for her?”
I blinked in Jack’s direction.
“Maybe you could find her tongue…and keep it for yourself?” Bec suggested.
I shot her the evil eye, finally finding my voice. “Look, Jack it’s good to meet you. Really. But there’s something you should know.”
“There is?”
I nodded. “Regardless of what Bec might or might not have told you about me, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”
As his jaw dropped ever so slightly, Rebecca chortled out loud. “And that, ladies and gents, is my cue to leave. Have fun, you guys.” A second later, she was gone.
“Not sleeping with me tonight would probably be a good thing.” Jack grinned, picking up the conversation as though there’d been no interruption. “I’m currently sharing a room with my four-year-old nephew. And if he were to wake to find me in bed with a beautiful woman, my sister would kick me out of the house faster than Tony Abbott could put on his budgy smugglers.”
“Faster than…what?”
“Yeah. That’s what we all say when we see our ex-PM in those ridiculous briefs.”
“Are you speaking English?” Maybe his accent was stronger than I imagined, and I wasn’t understanding him at all.
Jack threw his head back and laughed. The masculine chuckle caught me deep in my belly, never mind what the dimple did as it flashed on his cheek. “Tony Abbot is our former Prime Minister. He wears tiny Speedos when he swims, and the sight, well, it’s a bit of a shocker.”
“So budgy smugglers are…?”
“Swimming briefs no self-respecting man should wear, ever.”
“Yet your ex-Prime Minister does?”
“Kinda sums up the kind of man we had leading our country for a while.” He shuddered.
“And we’re discussing his choice of swimsuits…why?”
“Just letting you know why I can’t sleep with you tonight.”
The man was crazy. Off his head nuts. “Because Tony someone or other wears Speedos?”
“Because my sister would kick me out of her house if I subjected my nephew to finding me in bed with a woman.”
“So you don’t plan on sleeping with me?”
“Well, I hadn’t…until about two minutes ago.”
What exactly had Bec said to him? “Did you bring condoms?”
I can’t believe I just said that.
The grin was back, bigger than before, and I swear, I almost leaned forward to dip the tip of my tongue in that sexy indentation in his cheek.
“Should I have?” He squeezed my fingers, surprising the hell out of me. I hadn’t taken my hand back. I’d offered it to him ages ago to shake, and it had felt so darn good, resting in his, I’d unwittingly left it there. I pulled my arm away and instantly regretted the cold air that wafted over my skin.
“Bec told you to bring some, didn’t she? The traitor.” I was going to have to have a word with my supposed bestie later. I was also never going to wash my hand again.
“She only told me to bring a plate and some grog, but that was about all.”
I stared at him again. “A what and some what?”
“Food, to eat.” He pointed to the heavily-laden dining table, sagging under the weight of the numerous offerings. “And alcohol. Something to drink.” Bec and Pete never catered their parties. Everyone brought their favorite dish and a bottle of wine or spirits, and no one ever left hungry or thirsty.
Made for cost-effective entertaining.
“Rebecca’s right. You do talk funny.”
“And you ask funny questions.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“No one’s ever asked me if I’ve brought condoms to a party before.”
Talking about which, he still hadn’t clarified what Bec had said about me. “Has anyone, over the last forty-eight hours or so, suggested that bringing condoms tonight might be a good idea?”
His dark eyes danced with amusement. “I can say with utmost confidence, no one, Rebecca included, has brought up the subject of condoms in the last forty-eight hours.”
“But she said something about me, right? Rebecca, I mean.”
His eyes softened. “She said she had someone she’d like me to meet. A masterful, gorgeous, and hot-tempered chef.”
I cast an eye around the bustling room. “And? Have you met said chef yet?”
“I’m not sure. How are you in the kitchen?”
“I can handle my own.” I leaned over to nab a cannoli from the tray and handed it to him. “See for yourself.”
“You made this?”
I nodded.
“Hazelnut?”
“Salted caramel.”
Jack bit into it, catching the few crumbs with his palm. He kept eye contact as he chewed slowly, as though taste testing each morsel. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“Good?”
“No.”
I bristled. My cannoli were legendary. I wasn’t allowed into Bec’s parties without them.
“Best damn thing I’ve ever eaten.” He wolfed down the pastry and reached for another. “Vanilla?”
“Crema.” I smiled, somewhat mollified.
He took a bite, then held up the cannoli. “Correction. Second best thing I’ve ever eaten. This is the best.” His eyes shut as he popped the other half into his mouth.
He looked like he’d bitten into a little piece of heaven.
“Yep.” He looked at me, his lids at half-mast, his irises dark with pleasure. “In answer to your question, I have met said chef.”
The satisfaction in his expression knocked me clean off-guard. I wanted him to look at me with those heavy-lidded eyes in the bedroom. I wanted to be the cause of the sexy gaze. Me—not my cannoli. “And? Is she as bad-tempered as you’d been warned?”
“She’s as beautiful as I’d been told. More so.” His gaze held mine, and I spotted naked appreciation. “I wish someone had suggested I bring condoms tonight.”
There went those tingles again, buzzing through my belly and chest. I rolled my eyes. “So you’d sleep with a woman because she’s beautiful?”
“Not just because she’s beautiful,” he scoffed. “Because she’s an exceptional chef, too.” He grinned unapologetically, and I melted.
Were we flirting? This felt an awful lot like flirting. “So, no need to find out if she’s a decent person?”
He leaned close, close enough that when he answered, the warmth of his breath fanned across my face, making me tremble. “We were talking about me sleeping with her. Not spending the rest of our lives together.”
I could now add the scent of scotch and sugar to the tantalizing goodness of his citrusy aroma. Maybe I could add a drop of liqueur to my orange cake. Replicate that enticing scent. And then scarf down the whole damn thing…much like I wanted to scarf down the delicious doctor. “Pity about your nephew, then. And your lack of condoms.”
Jack didn’t move back. He kept his face right up close to mine.
“There are ways around obstacles,” he murmured. “We just have to find them.”
“The obstacles?”
Far as I could tell, there wasn’t a single obstacle between us now. In fact, the only thing in our way was too much empty space. His face was close. The rest of him? Not so much. I took a step forward, leaving maybe an inch between his body and mine. Heat radiated off his chest. Or maybe it was from the way his eyes darkened as he stared at me from beneath those heavy lids.
“The ways around them. Funny,” he said softly, “you don’t seem nearly as bad-tempered as I was warned you’d be.”
“That’s because my cannoli have lulled you into a false sense of security. The sweetness you’re sensing is simply the sugar from my secret recipe.”
“Tell me, Bella, what has you in such a bad mood?”
“Uh-uh. That’s personal.” The last thing I wanted to get into with Hot Scott was the annoyance of finding Grant at the party—courtesy of Pete’s invitation—and me doing my level best to avoid him. “Asking hints that you might be interested in something more than sleeping with me.”
I wasn’t interested in anything more. The idea of spending a night with the guy? Yeah, sign me up, baby. But getting any more intimate? Nope. Not for me. Not now. I was too content with my life the way it was to make time for a relationship.
He shot me a cheeky grin. “I’m just wondering what angry sex with a gorgeous chef would be like.”
“So we’ve progressed from sleeping together to having angry sex?”
“Trust me, Isabella, if someone had told me to bring those condoms, sleep wouldn’t enter the equation.”
“Isabella now?” A minute ago, he’d called me Bella.
“Calling you Bella implies we’re friends. And let’s face it, friendship is not what I want from a sleepless night with you.”
“So now you do want to spend a night with me? What would your nephew think?”
“If he met you? I’m pretty sure the only thing he’d be thinking about was your cannoli. And if you make them in chocolate.”
I reached back to snag a chocolate cannoli, stretching farther than I had the last time, as I had no intention of moving away from Hot Scott. “Go ahead. Give this to him with my compliments.”
“You made chocolate ones, too?”
“Of course.” Complete with Cioccolato Venchi, imported from Italy specifically for the cannoli.
“Forget my nephew. Feed it to me.” He opened his mouth invitingly, and I wondered how he’d respond if instead of the cannoli, I fed him my tongue.
“Nice uncle, taking food away from a little kid.”
“Hungry uncle. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“You just scarfed down two of my cannoli.”
“Make it a third, Isabella, and I’ll be your slave forever.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Is the chocolate as good as the other two?”
“Better.”
“Then it’s a promise.”
His lips parted again, and he watched intently as I lifted the treat to his mouth. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Deal.” Instead of taking a bite, his tongue darted out, and he licked at the filling. It was a move so boyish, yet so sensual, liquid heat gathered between my legs.
“Mmmm.” He did it again, and this time I went all squishy inside.
He held my hand in his, directed the cannoli into his mouth, and proceeded to lick out the rest of the center before devouring the shell.
Watching a man consume a pastry should not be an erotic experience. It should not make my blood heat and my skin feverish, but it did. With his gaze pinned to mine, his lips centimeters from my fingers, and my hand in his, I began to burn. For him.
“We’re out of ice.” The announcement from across the room was loud enough to break through the general noise of the party and splinter the intimacy of our pose.
“Who’s volunteering to fill the bucket this time?” Rebecca’s voice was louder than the first.
I flashed Jack an evil smile. “Dr. Scott is,” I offered on his behalf.
His eyes widened. “I am?”
“Remember our slave deal?” I winked at him.
“Fine,” he grumbled, then said out loud to the rest of the room. “Yep. I’ll do it. Toss the bucket my way.”
In seconds, he held the ice bucket, and I was waving him goodbye.
“Not so fast.” He snagged my hand. “I have no idea where the ice is. And since this was your brilliant idea, you, dear chef, have no choice but to show me.”