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He shook his head. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you say or do something that surprises me.”

“I don’t need you to understand me—I just need a letter.”

“I can’t give you that without some understanding of who you are and whether or not you’ll fit in with the rest of the staff.”

She slid off her seat. “Then I guess I should be going.”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the door. “Why Charisma? Why Mercy?”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t come here just for a job.”

She met his gaze evenly. “I have family here.”

“Speaking of family, what do Patrick and Connor think of your decision to move to North Carolina?”

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of her brothers. “What do you know about Patrick and Connor?”

“Quite a lot, actually,” he told her. “Patrick is twenty-seven, single and a deputy in the Echo Ridge sheriff’s department. Connor is twenty-eight, a graduate of the Thurgood Marshall School of Law currently employed as a prosecuting attorney, which is probably why he’s trying to keep his relationship with a certain young woman who works as a public defender under wraps.”

“You had my family investigated?” she demanded, her question filled with icy fury.

“Does that bother you?” he challenged. “Does it seem wrong that some stranger could come along and meddle in the lives of the people who matter the most to you?”

“Touché, Dr. Garrett.” She reached past him to pick up her glass and tossed back the rest of her wine. “I guess that means I’m not going to get a recommendation.”

“I’m not saying no,” he told her. Because he was a firm believer in the old adage about keeping friends close and enemies closer, and he wasn’t yet sure which category his half sister fit into. “I just want some more information.”

“My life’s an open book—and one that you’ve apparently already read.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Can you meet me at the hospital tomorrow?”

“What time?”

“Two o’clock. By the fountain in the courtyard.”

She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

He followed her back to the foyer and plucked her coat off the hook just as another knock sounded. Since no one had buzzed from the lobby, he assumed that it was probably Lianne from across the hall. For a woman who was always baking something—muffins or cookies or banana bread—it baffled him that his neighbor never had all of the ingredients she needed. His brother, Ryan, liked to tease that Lianne asking to borrow sugar was code for her wanting to give him some sugar, but her flirtations were mostly harmless.

But when he opened up the door, it wasn’t Lianne on the other side. It was Avery Wallace.

“You’re on your way out,” she said, noting the coat in his hand.

He shook his head. “It’s not mine.”

Her eyes flickered past him to Nora, then to the island with the bottle of wine and two glasses. Her color went frosty and her tone, when she spoke again, had chilled by several degrees. “I’m sorry—I obviously should have called first.”

He turned to hand the coat to Nora, whose gaze was openly curious as it shifted from him to his new guest and back again. Clearly she was hoping for an introduction, but he wasn’t inclined to make it.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Avery said, already turning away.

He caught her arm. “You can stay. Nora’s on her way out.”

Thankfully, Nora didn’t have to be told twice. She slipped past him. “I’ll see you at two o’clock tomorrow.”

He nodded, pulling Avery through the door before closing it.

She tugged her arm out of his grasp, looking uncertain and slightly disapproving. “She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” he said mildly. “How young is too young to be my sister?”

“Your—” she looked back at the door through which Nora had departed “—sister?”

He nodded.

She frowned. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Neither did I until seven months ago.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she mused.

“I’d tell you about it sometime, but you barely stick around long enough to finish a consult never mind an actual conversation.”

She flushed but did not respond.

“So why are you here?” he asked. And then, because he couldn’t resist ruffling her feathers a bit, he said “Did you come to count the notches on my bedposts?”

She sent him a scathing look. “You said you don’t have bedposts.”

“Because I don’t,” he confirmed. “Which I’d be happy to prove to you if you come down the hall with me and—”

She cut him off by shoving an envelope against his chest. “This is why I’m here.”

He held her gaze for a long minute before he opened the flap and pulled out a single page. He immediately recognized the logo of Charisma Medical Laboratories at the top, then saw her name in the “patient name” box. “What is this?”

“You did get that MD behind your name from medical school, didn’t you?”

“Okay, I guess what I should have asked is ‘
why
is this?’”

“New Year’s Eve.”

His brows lifted.

She huffed out a breath. “I should have figured you’d make me spell it out. We didn’t just have sex, Garrett. We had unprotected sex.”

Justin nodded soberly. While he had no objections to casual sex, he was never careless about protection. Not since that one time when he was a teenager. That one time—one forgotten condom and one terrifying pregnancy false alarm—had been enough to scare the bejesus out of him and make him swear that he would never be caught unprepared again.

And he never had—until he’d found himself in a hospital supply closet with Avery. Then everything had happened so fast, and his desperate need for her had overridden everything else.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because although the words were grossly inadequate they were also true.

“Obviously neither of us was thinking clearly that night or what happened between us never would have happened,” she said.

He wondered how it was that—despite all the other thoughts screaming in his head—he could be amused by such a prim remark delivered in her characteristically cool tone. Wanting to shake some of that cool, he stepped closer to her.

“We had sex, Avery. Incredible...mind-blowing...ground-shaking sex.”

“I was there,” she acknowledged, her gaze remaining fixed on the ceramic tile floor. “I know what happened.”

He tipped her chin up. “So why can’t you say it?”

She jerked her head away. “Because I’m embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Because I used to take pride in the fact that I was one of probably only a handful of women on staff at the hospital who had
not
slept with Dr. Romeo—and I can’t say that anymore.”

He’d grown accustomed to the nickname so that it didn’t bother him anymore. Not that he would acknowledge, anyway. “Honey, I haven’t slept with
that
many women who work there.”

“I don’t care,” she insisted. “Or I wouldn’t care, except that now I’m one of them.”

“It’s not as if I’ve been walking around wearing a sign—I Melted Dr. Wall-ice.”

She glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“I agree,” he said. “Nor is it anything to be ashamed of. We’re two unattached, consenting adults who gave in to a mutual and compelling attraction.”

“We had unprotected sex.”

He nodded. “My bad. I’m not in the habit of carrying condoms in my scrub shirt,” he said, attempting a casualness he did not feel. “But that still doesn’t explain—” he held up the lab report “—this.”

“I wanted to reassure you that there’s no reason for you to worry—” she bit down on her lower lip “—on my side, I mean.”

“But you’re worried about mine,” he realized.

He couldn’t blame her for being concerned. He was well aware of his reputation around the hospital—and well aware that it had been greatly exaggerated. That knowledge had never bothered him before, but now, seeing Avery’s misery and distress, he wished he’d clarified a few things. Or a lot of things.

Of course, it was too late now. She’d obviously made up her mind about him and nothing he said was going to change it. He put the lab report back into the envelope and returned it to her. “Most of the other women I’ve been with just want to cuddle after sex.”

“Most of the other women are why I’d like some quid pro quo.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Chapter Four

I
n retrospect, Avery probably could have handled the situation better, but the whole experience with Justin was way outside her comfort zone. She wasn’t great with personal relationships in general, and men like Justin—not that there were many men like Justin—flustered her beyond belief.

He was so totally confident and unapologetically sexy, and completely aware of the effect he had on people. Especially women. It was why, for most of the three and a half years she’d worked at Mercy Hospital, she’d put as much distance between them as possible.

Of course, distance wasn’t always possible. There were times that they needed to consult and collaborate with respect to the care of patients, and at those times, she did what had to be done, careful to maintain a calm facade and professional demeanor. But when she had a choice, she chose to stay far away from his orbit, because she didn’t trust herself to resist the magnetic pull that he seemed to exert on women without even trying. She hadn’t been able to resist it on New Year’s Eve. She hadn’t
wanted
to resist him.

When she’d realized that they’d had sex without a condom, she’d panicked a little. Or maybe a lot. And then she’d started to think about all the possible repercussions of having unprotected sex with a man who’d had numerous other sexual partners. As a doctor, she would have been irresponsible to ignore his history, especially after she’d already been irresponsible in having unprotected sex with him.

She didn’t see much of Justin over the next few days after her visit to his apartment, which wasn’t unusual. Depending on their schedules, she might cross paths with him numerous times in a day or not at all for several shifts. What was unusual was that she found herself looking for him, wondering when she might see him and even the wondering filled her stomach with an uncomfortable fluttery feeling.

When she did see him, his demeanor toward her was nothing but professional, and she strove to treat him with the same courtesy. But her awareness of him was heightened now, and whenever he was near, her body stirred with not just memories but longing.

Friday afternoon, she’d just finished a consult regarding the course of action for a multiple pregnancy when he caught her in the conference room.

“I’ve got those test results you wanted,” he told her.

She’d been so focused on her work that it took Avery a moment to realize what he was talking about. But when she did, the knots that had been in her belly since New Year’s Day tightened.

She looked at him expectantly. His statement suggested that he intended to share the results with her, but his hands were empty. “Are you actually going to let me see them?”

“Of course,” he agreed. “At dinner tonight.”

She sighed. “Dr. Garrett—”

“Dr. Wallace,” he countered, his tone amused.

“I’m
not
going to have dinner with you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said confidently. “Because you want to hold the lab report in your hands and meticulously scrutinize every letter and digit.”

She did, of course. Because she needed to be sure. But she didn’t believe he, as a medical professional, would really hold back the results. Certainly not if there was any reason for her to be concerned.

“You’re clean,” she decided, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “You wouldn’t be playing games otherwise.”

“And if I’d told you I was clean, that our romantic—” she snorted derisively at that, while he narrowed his gaze and continued “—liaison was the first time I’ve forgotten a condom since I was a horny, fumbling seventeen-year-old, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

“Which is why there has to be a tiny niggling of doubt in your mind,” he said. “Barely a seed right now, but if you don’t hold those results in your hand, that seed will grow...and grow.”

She glared at him, because
dammit
, he was right. “What time did you want to eat?”

His smile was smug. “Seven o’clock. Valentino’s.”

She shook her head. “Seven o’clock works, but I’ll cook.”

“I’d be flattered by your offer to cook for me if I didn’t suspect your true motivation is that being seen in public with me might damage your reputation.”

“I suspect you’re just as worried about your own, considering that I’m not your usual type.”

“And what is my usual type?” he asked curiously.

“Ready, willing and able.”

“You’ve got me there,” he acknowledged. “But then it’s not really true to say you’re not my type, because you were all of those things when we were in SC together.”

She frowned. “SC?”

Despite the fact that they were alone in the room, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I decided that should be our code for the supply closet. That way, if anyone overhears us talking, they’ll think we stole away to South Carolina together rather than a six-by-eight utility room.”

“No worries,” she told him. “We’re not going to be talking about it. Not after tonight.”

“Seven o’clock at your place?” he prompted.

She nodded and gave him her address.

“You’re not worried that being alone with me will tempt you to jump my bones again?”

“I didn’t ‘jump your bones’ the first time,” she denied hotly.

“You made the first move.”

“It was a kiss. Simple, casual, friendly.”

“It was a spark,” he countered. “And considering how skillfully you’ve dodged me for more than three years because of the red-hot attraction between us, you had to know that one little spark would ignite a firestorm.”

Thankfully, he didn’t stick around for a response, because she didn’t know what to say to that. He was right—for more than three years, she had dodged him and the uncomfortable feelings he stirred inside of her. And as soon as she got through this dinner tonight, she would go back to dodging him again.