Treacherous (The Wolf Pack Series) (8 page)

After getting the patient transported to the post-anesthesia care unit, she’d hurried to the restroom to brush her teeth and freshen her lipstick before making her way to Grant’s office.

Now, standing there in the silent corridor, she felt a moment’s hesitation. At two in the morning, the hospital was practically deserted. She should have gone home after the surgery, like the anesthesiologists and scrub tech had done. She was a married woman, a mother of two. So she had no business being alone with the very same man whose mere existence threatened to destroy everything that mattered to her.

Go home
, her conscience warned.
Go home to your family before it’s too
late.

She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, shaky breath.

And then she stepped into the open doorway.

Grant was seated behind a large cherry desk in the elegantly furnished office.

He was munching on a chocolate bar as he scribbled on a tablet, dictating the operative notes he was required to submit after every surgical procedure. He’d exchanged his scrubs for a Harvard University sweatshirt and khaki pants. His curly black hair gleamed in the soft glow cast by the brass desk lamp. Celeste’s fingers itched to plunge through the thick strands, to luxuriate in the silky texture.

Swallowing hard, she shifted nervously from one foot to another. Grant didn’t look up from his writing. Assuming he hadn’t noticed her, she opened her mouth to speak when he held up one finger, signaling that he’d be with her shortly.

She nodded, remaining in the doorway.

Lips twitching with humor, he crooked that same finger at her and gestured to the visitor’s chair across from his desk.

Celeste hesitated, then moved forward on rubbery legs. Though Grant didn’t watch her approach, the smile playing at the corners of his lips gave her the impression that he was counting every step that brought her closer. The moment she sat down, he silently mouthed,
Atta, girl.

She blushed like an infatuated teenager.

As she waited for Grant to finish his task, her eyes strayed behind him to the wall of framed degrees, plaques, and certificates that documented his path to becoming one of the country’s leading neurosurgeons. His precision with a scalpel often made Celeste wonder whether he’d been born with one in his hand. In addition to being a brilliant surgeon, he was also a researcher who served on numerous committees and was being groomed to head the hospital’s neurosurgical residency program.

To say that the man was going places would be a colossal understatement, Celeste mused, staring at a framed photograph of his parents, an attractive, sixty-something biracial couple who lived in Vermont. Grant had told her all about them—educated, hardworking, pillars of the community. The kind of parents who’d demanded nothing but the best from their four children, all of whom became successful in their own right.

As Celeste’s gaze returned to Grant, her stomach fluttered, as it frequently did when she looked at him. Though she’d always preferred dark-skinned men, she’d been attracted to Grant from the moment she saw him. He was incredibly handsome with golden-brown skin, piercing green eyes, and thick, curly hair. He wasn’t tall, but he had a great, athletic body honed from the rigorous workouts he squeezed into his demanding schedule. The nurses flirted shamelessly with him, cornering him in the hallways to ask inane questions about medical procedure just so they’d have an excuse to talk to him. Celeste had employed a more subtle approach, treating him with such polite cordiality he’d had no choice but to notice her, and wonder why she was so different from the other women who fawned over him.

She watched now as he set down his pen and lifted those sexy eyes to hers.

“Sorry about all the sign language,” he said, smiling ruefully. “I didn’t want to lose my train of thought.”

“I understand.” She smiled, watching as he finished his chocolate bar and discarded the gold wrapper in the wastebasket beside his desk. “So the rumors are true. You really
do
eat a candy bar before or after every surgery.” He grinned lazily. “Of course. Didn’t you know that chocolate’s an excellent brain food?”

“
Chocolate
?” Celeste repeated skeptically.

“Sure. See, the cacao bean has certain nutrients and antioxidants that can be beneficial to everything from brain and cardiovascular health to skin elasticity.” His grin widened. “Mark my words, Celeste. In twenty years researchers will be touting cacao beans as having the key to longevity.” She laughed. “And all this time I thought chocolate was a guilty pleasure to be avoided as much as possible.”

He shook his head. “Just goes to show.”

“What?”

“Not all guilty pleasures are bad for you,” he said softly.

Celeste stared at him, shivers of awareness snaking through her body. It was obvious that he was no longer talking about candy bars.

She smiled demurely. “Got any more of those guilty pleasures?”

“Chocolate?” His voice deepened suggestively. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

Her mouth went dry. “I, um, meant the chocolate.” Eyes glinting wickedly, he opened his desk drawer and removed a candy bar.

Instead of passing it to her, he stood and walked around the desk. Celeste sat back as he knelt beside her chair and partially unwrapped the chocolate.

He held it out to her. “Why don’t you try a bite first and see if you like it,” he suggested.

Holding his gaze, Celeste leaned forward and opened her mouth. As her lips closed around the dark chocolate bar, Grant’s eyes glittered in a way that made her pulse race.

“Mmm,” she murmured, chewing slowly. “That’s good. Very rich and exotic.”

“It’s imported from Belgium,” Grant told her. “It has a high percentage of cacao.”

She smiled. “So it’s the good stuff.”

“Absolutely,” he said huskily, watching her mouth as he fed her another bite.

“Nothing but the best.”

“Um-hmm,” she agreed.

When he bit into the chocolate bar, her nipples hardened and heat pooled between her thighs. She’d never realized that sharing candy with a man could be so tantalizing.

When Grant offered her another bite, she laughed softly and shook her head.

“That’s enough for now.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “It’s so rich and decadent. I don’t want to overdo it.” He chuckled, rewrapping the half-eaten candy bar. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed. A current of pure sexual awareness quivered between them.

They stared at each other for several charged moments before Celeste glanced away, tucking the chocolate into her tote bag on the floor.

Grant remained kneeling by her chair. “Have you ever been to Belgium?” She shook her head.

“It’s a beautiful country. You should go sometime.”

“Sure,” she drawled. “Just as soon as I win the lottery.” Hearing the trace of cynicism in her voice, Grant searched her face. “You don’t think you and your husband could set aside some money, maybe a little at a time—”

“No,” Celeste said flatly. If she and Sterling couldn’t even afford a seventy-five dollar application fee, a trip to Europe was out of the question.

“That’s too bad,” Grant lamented. “You seem like a woman who’d enjoy traveling, seeing other parts of the world.”

“I’m sure I would,” Celeste retorted. “But since that’s not an option for me, it doesn’t make much sense for me to dwell on it, now does it?” He looked taken aback by her harsh tone. “Celeste—” She glanced impatiently at her watch. “Look, it’s getting late. I should go.” He grabbed her wrist, detaining her as she started to rise from the chair.

“Don’t go,” he said with gentle urgency.

“Grant—”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you by prying into your personal affairs.

Please forgive me.”

Celeste wavered, staring into his earnest face. After another moment, she blew out a resigned breath and sank back against the chair, dragging a shaky hand through her hair.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmured. “I overreacted.”

“No, I was out of line.”

“Maybe you were,” she conceded. “But I wouldn’t have reacted that way if…

well, if I wasn’t dealing with some issues at home.”

“I understand,” Grant murmured, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Celeste hesitated, torn between her loyalty to her husband and her overwhelming need to confide in someone.

After several moments of indecision, the loyalty instinct won.

“I appreciate the offer,” she said ruefully, “but it’d probably be best if I kept my marital problems to myself.”

Grant nodded. “I understand. But if you ever need a listening ear, just remember that I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her gaze to their joined hands, watching as his thumb stroked her knuckle in a slow, gentle caress that sent heat coursing through her veins. She swallowed tightly. “Grant—”

“The reason I asked you up here,” he interrupted softly, “is that I wanted to thank you for your help tonight in the OR.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”

“And you do it very well. You’re an outstanding nurse, Celeste. You’re knowledgeable, well prepared, and you work great under pressure. I wish every nurse at this hospital was as skilled as you are.” Celeste warmed with pleasure. “Thank you, Grant. That really means a lot, coming from a surgeon of your caliber. I think you bring out the best in everyone who works with you.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to flatter me just because—”

“I’m not flattering you,” she said earnestly. “Everyone knows what an amazing surgeon you are. I’ve been a fan of yours ever since the day we shared a crowded elevator together. You didn’t notice me standing in the corner, but
I
noticed you. You were talking to another doctor about the technological advances that were coming to MR imaging. The excitement and passion in your voice gave me goose bumps. The first time I got to be part of your surgical team was one of the most exciting days of my life.”

By the time she’d finished gushing—there was no other word for it—Grant’s expression had softened. He reached out, gently cradling her cheek in his hand.

“You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say those things, Celeste.”

She stared at him, her heart knocking against her rib cage. He was so close that she could count every strand of his thick, curly eyelashes. Every instinct screamed at her to get up and leave, to put an end to this dangerous mating dance before things went too far.

But she couldn’t move.

Worse, she didn’t want to.

“I’ve been trying so hard to resist my feelings for you,” Grant confessed, low and husky. “But it’s a losing battle. I want you, Celeste, and unless my instincts are totally wrong, you want me too.”

She opened her mouth to offer a denial, but nothing came out.

Taking her silence as confirmation of her feelings, Grant leaned forward and slanted his mouth over hers.

Instant heat suffused her body. After only a slight hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips. His hot, velvety tongue stroked hers, making her shudder with need.

Deepening the kiss, Grant moved between her legs. When she felt the hard bulge of his erection, she wrenched her mouth free, gasping for breath.

Grant stared at her, chest heaving. “Celeste—”

“That was a mistake,” she whispered hoarsely, fumbling for her tote bag on the floor. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. Please—”

Scraping back her chair, she lunged to her feet and started across the room on wobbly legs. She’d just reached the open doorway when Grant called out to her,

“How long can we keep this up?”

She stopped in her tracks. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought she’d need a defibrillator at any moment.

“How long can we go on fighting our attraction to each other?” Grant continued, ragged frustration edging his voice. “Months? Years? How long, Celeste?”

She turned slowly to face him. He was gazing intently at her.

“I’m married,” she whispered.

“Not happily,” he countered. “If you were, you wouldn’t be here.” Her face flamed. She couldn’t even deny what he’d said, and they both knew it.

“Look,” Grant murmured, taking a step toward her. “You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. But these feelings we have for each other aren’t going anywhere. The sooner we deal with them, the better off we’ll both be.” Celeste’s pulse was pounding. “And how do you propose we…deal with them?”

Grant said nothing, but the smoldering heat in his eyes left no doubt what he wanted from her.

An electric moment passed between them.

Holding his gaze, Celeste let her tote bag drop to the floor.

A heartbeat later Grant was there, shoving the door closed as he crushed his mouth to hers. She kissed him back with equal fervor, needing him more than her very next breath.

They staggered backward, landing against the door. She hooked her leg over his hip and wantonly ground against him, seeking to assuage the ache between her thighs.

His hands went to her blouse, hurriedly unfastening the small buttons before he gave up halfway and ripped the material from her body. Celeste hazily registered the sound of buttons scattering across the floor, but she was too far gone to care that she’d have to come up with an explanation later for the ruined garment.

Trembling with desire, she watched as Grant lifted his head and unclasped the front hook of her black satin bra. He swore softly as her breasts sprang free.

She groaned as he cupped them in his warm hands, brushing his thumbs over her puckered nipples before pushing them together.