In Good Hands (4 page)

“D
ID YOU KNOW THAT
Claire thinks you're gay?” Amber pushed the words out in a rush, and she wasn't surprised when it took a moment for Roger to process the information. But when he did, his body jerked in shock.

“What?”

She could see his mind spinning a mile a minute, so she rushed out her side of the story before he could imagine something worse. “She said you were gay, I said no way and so we have a bet going.”

He gaped at her, but as she expected, he caught up quickly. “This is a seduction? Did you tamper with the elevator?”

His tone was less than flattering, and she reacted purely on instinct. “Of course not!”

His eyes narrowed. “To which? The seduction or the tampering?”

She grimaced, but he had her there. She hadn't meant this to be a seduction—well, not in an elevator at this particular moment—but this had been an elaborate game of foreplay. “I'm a doctor, not an engineer. I wouldn't know how to stop an elevator if my life depended on it.”

He wasn't fooled. “And the seduction?”

“It was just for a kiss,” she confessed. “And now I've told
you without making any moves. I just…I just thought it was funny that the universe somehow maneuvered us into a stalled elevator at just the right time.” Her words trailed away on a lame note. Great. Some seductress she'd turned out to be. Meanwhile, his eyes weren't narrowed anymore. His expression was more one of deep thought.

“What was the prize?”

She blinked. Beyond getting to kiss the alpha executive? “Um…” She pointed to the box of baked goods. “More of those.”

He snorted. “I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Seriously, my kisses are worth a box of muffins?”

“Well, they are
vegan
muffins,” she clarified.

“Does that make it better or worse?”

She smiled. Okay, so he wasn't furious. Which left them exactly where? She might have called everything off when she was in her shapeless sundress and hemp sandals. But she was dressed for success right now, in her last surviving power suit. Clothes did make a difference and part of her really missed the woman who was climbing the Mandolin corporate ladder, seeing a zillion patients and trying to change the course of medicine one closed mind at a time. She'd had purpose then, and she'd been helping people. What had she done lately but feed her own intellect?

“Are you even a doctor?” he asked.

She nodded. “And I really did work at Mandolin.”

At his skeptical look, she reached into her purse. She didn't have a fancy BlackBerry like she'd once had permanently attached to her body, but she did have a massively cheap prepaid. She dialed the number from memory, then put it on speaker so that Mr. Martell could hear the conversation. The switchboard answered on the second ring.

“Mandolin Hospital, how may I be of service?”

“Please connect me to Dr. Jack Ross. It's Dr. Amber Smithson about a consult.” Then she rattled off his extension.

Across from her, Roger frowned and looked at his watch. Amber just laughed.

“We always stayed late on Friday nights. We shut our doors, pretended we'd gone home, then got a ton of work done. Plus, it covered for the fact that we had no social life except for our jobs.”

As expected, Jack answered on the second ring.

“Amber?” A low voice rumbled through the line. “Has a miracle happened? Have you finally decided to give up all your pie-eyed idealism? I've been working on the director since you left. He might be open to you coming back, but only if you schmooze him right.”

Amber barely held back her smile. This was exactly what she wanted to hear. But she couldn't seem too eager, so she glanced at her elevator companion. “Hello, Jack. Look, I've got you on speaker with a Roger Martell of RFE. That stands for Robotics For Everyone.”

As she spoke, Roger pulled out his BlackBerry. A glance at his screen showed that he was looking up Jack's pedigree. A second later his eyebrows rose. Yup, Jack was one impressive neurologist. But more important, his work with amputees made him an ideal consultant to a robotics company.

Jack was groaning into the phone. “Jeez, Amber, not another robotics firm. I've got them coming out of my ears.”

“Would I steer you wrong? Just give them an hour. Let them prove their worth.”

Jack took a long time to answer, but in the end, he groaned his agreement. “Fine. I have an hour first Tuesday next month. Bring him then.”

She grinned at Roger. “It'll be two of them. Roger Martell and Sam Finn—”

“And you, Amber. You bring them in person or not at all.”

Perfect. Exactly what she'd wanted in the first place. “Fine,” she said with a pretend show of reluctance. “If that's the only way.”

“Tuesday at three. With you or not at all.” With that, Jack cut the connection.

Amber exhaled and slowly clicked her phone shut. She didn't know what to think about what she'd just done. It felt like the outfit, plus having her hair piled on top of her head again, had somehow put her back in time. She was Dr. Smithson again, thinking nothing of scheduling a meeting halfway across the country. It felt strange, but also good. She'd never felt more powerful than when she was in this mode. It was seductive, this feeling, and she worried that she was compromising too much. Then she remembered her bank account and knew that some compromises were necessary.

Meanwhile, Roger was looking at her as a man might take the measure of a cobra. “So you're on the level,” he said, though it came out part question.

“That part was real, yes.”

“And the seduction part?” he prompted, his tone annoyingly neutral.

She shrugged, but she couldn't resist putting a little attitude into the movement. She'd never had to beg for sex before, she sure as hell wasn't going to start now. “As I said, the universe works in mysterious ways.”

“That's not an answer,” he said.

“It wasn't meant to be.”

He paused, his eyes too dark, his expression very intense and completely unreadable. And then he took a slow step forward. “And you think I'm gay.”

“That was Claire. I'm betting a half-dozen vegan muffins on straight.” She arched a brow. Any man with his looks would have an ego to go with it. And, my, she loved teasing a man with an ego. “Straight, hard and so hot sometimes even you can't stand it.”

His lips curved in a predatory smile. “Takes one to know one.”

She laughed, the sound coming out low and throaty without her consciously willing it. “Just because I recognize a fellow playmate doesn't mean I'm going to dance in your sandbox.”

“And yet you made a bet with Claire, dressed up all pretty for me and strutted your way into my office.”

“I didn't stop the elevator. Maybe you did.”

He shook his head, and she would swear his eyes glittered with sexual intent. “How does a single kiss prove that I'm straight?” He moved closer, his attitude part anger, part dominance and all male. It was only years of training that kept her standing still. Most women would be backing up as he tightened the distance between them. Within a moment she could feel the heat of his breath across her skin.

“That was the bet,” she said. “One kiss. If you want to fake it, that's up to you.”

“I'm not going to fake anything,” he growled.

The air seemed to tingle as it entered her lungs, and her skin flushed with heat. Without even planning it, her chin shot up and she met him stare for stare. But she couldn't speak as he came so close to her lips.

“One kiss?” he whispered. He brushed his mouth against her cheek in what was definitely a kiss. It made her whole body shiver. “Was that a kiss?” he asked. He shifted to nip the tip of her nose. “Or how about this?”

Finally, he made it to her mouth. While she held her breath in anticipation, he brushed a single, long, thorough kiss across
her lips. No tongue, just his lips. And it was the hottest thing she'd experienced in nearly two years.

He was toying with her, getting her hot without fulfilling her bet or her personal hunger. This was what came of playing with an alpha dog. But she wasn't without skills of her own.

“Yes,” she whispered, as she stretched up on her toes to let her breath warm his mouth. “That'll count.” Then she forced herself to drop back on her heels and step away.

He arched his brow at her, a challenge in his eye. “Glad I could be of service. You let me know if you need some more proof.”

She grinned. “Is that an invitation to play?”

She watched him pause a moment, and then his expression slid to pure male. “Yeah, it is. Did you have something else in mind?”

And there was the gauntlet thrown down in challenge. Did she have the nerve to pick it up? It had been two years since she'd played any type of sex game with anyone. Two years since she'd put on stilettoes and done up her hair. Two years of burying her nose in every type of bizarre holistic treatment she could find. And none of it had been as fun as this moment right now. So did she go for it? All the way?

How could she not? After two years, she was beyond ready.

She stretched her hands up in the air and slowly pulled out the pins holding her hair in place. She knew he was watching her, so she worked as slowly and as seductively as possible. And then, when she was sure he was good and caught, she flashed him a wink. “There's a Tantric game I've always wanted to play,” she said.

He swallowed, but that was the only indication she'd affected him. Well, that and the bulge down below. “A game?” he rasped.

She stepped right up to him, leaned in close and moved
her lips to his left ear. She even pressed a hand to his chest so she could feel his heart beat under her palm.

“He who comes first, loses.”

He released a growl, low in his belly. Like a great beast coming awake after a long sleep, and at the sound, she knew she had him.

“Sounds like a good game,” he said as his hands slid around her waist. “You think I'm going to play with you? You think I'm going to risk a potential deal with Mandolin just to get you in bed?”

“I do.” She nipped at his earlobe with her teeth.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I got your attention,” she said as she thumbed open two buttons on his dress shirt and slipped a finger inside. There was a light dusting of hair there, just enough to be manly without detracting from the muscle she felt beneath his skin.

“Lots of women get my attention.”

His hands began creeping upward toward her breasts. Her nipples tightened and her breath caught and held. She'd forgotten how hot this was. How absolutely incredible it was to just let go.

“Yeah, but I'm the only one stuck in an elevator with you.”

He chuckled and the rumble of his body was like a low throb in her own. “True.”

And then there was a moment's pause. His hands stilled, and so did her own. They both stopped teasing, stopped tempting, stopped everything as a single question filtered through the air: Were they really going to do this? His gaze caught hers and they communicated silently. Was this worth the risk?

“Do you have a condom?” he asked.

“In my purse.” Then she glanced around the freight elevator. “Any cameras?”

“Nope. And I've got a clean bill of health.”

“Me, too.”

His smile was slow in coming, but it was all the more devastating because of it. The man was
potent.
His nostrils had flared, his hands were strong and he was physically backing her up against the wall. And just when she thought he'd pounce, he held himself back and waited while her breath stuttered in and out of her chest.

“He who comes first loses?” he asked.

“That's the game.”

“And what do I get if I win?”

She let her hands slide down until she was stroking the very long, large length of him. “You get invited to round two.”

“I like the sound of that.” He paused for effect, then moved an inch closer. “Game on.”

He wasn't subtle in going for it, not that she expected him to be. His hands slid to the back of her skirt and, within a second, she felt the zipper slide down, then her skirt dropped to the floor. She was standing in her thong and thigh-highs. If she were going to back out, this was the one move guaranteed to make her run for the hills.

She didn't. In fact, she kicked the fabric away while she undid the buttons on his shirt. She meant to act strong but her fingers were trembling and she fumbled with the last buttons. Or perhaps it had more to do with the way he was stroking her thighs, running his fingertips along the edge of her hose before cupping her backside.

God, he had good hands, firm and large enough to support her as she wrapped one leg around him to pull him tight. So they could press heat to heat despite the fabric between them. Lord, he felt so good that she thought about impaling herself right then and there. She wanted him deep inside her; she wanted to be stretched to the very limit.

With that thought in mind, she went to the button of his
trousers, but her fingers were too clumsy and there wasn't enough space as he pushed her firmly against the padded wall. A second later, he was pressing his full body against hers, trapping her fingers. Her hands were useless as he began to thrust, groin to groin, over and over in a steadily building rhythm.

Oh, unfair! she thought. Her hands were pinned but his were free to pop open the buttons of her blouse. The black lace bra beneath had a front clasp, and so it took no time at all for him to free her breasts. He filled his hands with her and began to squeeze in just the right ways. She let her head drop back as hunger shuddered through her body.

Her heart thrummed, her skin flushed hot and her breath came in tight gasps as he manipulated her nipples. She didn't remember ever having the desire build so fast before. He couldn't be able to make her come without even pulling down his pants!