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Nathan laughed. “Maybe you do. Maybe you need to realize that being with one woman—the right woman—night after night is far more satisfying than being with a different woman every night.”

“I’m not with a different woman every night,” he denied.

“That’s true—some nights you’re working.”

“And to think that I came to you for advice.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet on the edge of his desk. “You did? This oughta be interesting.”

“I had a date last night,” Justin admitted.

“See point above,” his cousin noted drily.

“Her name’s Heather,” he continued, ignoring Nate’s sarcasm. “She’s a nurse. Young, attractive and apparently willing to get naked with me.”

“So far I’m not seeing why you need my advice.”

“Because at the end of the evening, I said goodbye at her door and walked away.”

His cousin’s brows lifted. “Now that
is
a surprise.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

To his credit, Nate didn’t offer a flippant reply but took a minute to consider the question. “I think,” he eventually said, “that you’re finally growing up and realizing that you want something more substantial than a short-term fling, which you’re never going to find if you keep dating women who worship the ground you walk on.”

“Avery would more likely spit on the ground I walk on,” he admitted glumly.

“Avery?” Nate prompted, sounding intrigued.

“Avery Wallace.” Justin shook his head. “I need to get her out of my mind.”

“This conversation just got a lot more interesting.”

“Except that Avery’s made it clear she’s
not
interested.”

“And you, of course, look at that as a challenge.”

“Maybe. Partly,” he acknowledged. “But it’s more than that.”

“Is it?”

“I think I could really fall for her—and she won’t even go out with me.”

Nate chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this isn’t funny to you. But after having seen so many women fall at your feet for so many years, it’s refreshing to learn that there are still some females who are immune to your considerable charms.”

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Justin grumbled.

“I can laugh now, because I’ve been in your shoes,” his cousin admitted. “Allison had all kinds of reasons for not wanting to get involved with me—even before I was her boss.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Nate confirmed.

“What changed her mind?”

“I think it was the chicken soup.”

“Huh?”

His cousin grinned. “Long story. Let’s just say that some women need to be convinced that a man has staying power—that he’ll stick around through good times and bad, in sickness and in health.”

“And you managed to do all of that with chicken soup?” he asked skeptically.

“I think it was what the soup symbolized more than the bowl of broth and noodles itself,” Nate told him.

“How am I supposed to show Avery that I want to stick around when she keeps pushing me away?”

“That’s a dilemma,” his cousin acknowledged. “And before you commit to any course of action, you need to decide if she’s worth it.”

Justin didn’t need to think about it. “She’s definitely worth it.”

* * *

The Sixth Annual Storybook Ball—named to reflect both its fantasy theme and the fact that the proceeds benefitted the children’s wing of Mercy Hospital—was held annually on the last Saturday in January. It was their biggest fund-raiser of the year and all doctors were invited and encouraged to attend, to mingle with patrons, talk to them about the work that was being done at the hospital and how past donations had been used to benefit their young patients, and explain why their support was needed now.

A handful of staff were always on hand to greet the guests as they arrived, and Avery had planned to be one of them this year—her support of the cause overrode her usual inclination to avoid formal events. Unfortunately, a complicated delivery put her behind schedule so that by the time she got home, showered and dressed for the event, she’d missed dinner. In fact, she was just sliding into her assigned seat as dessert was being eaten and coffee was being served.

No one asked any questions about her tardiness—they all understood that a career in medicine often caused scheduling conflicts with other events. Dr. Terrence, seated beside her, nudged his untouched strawberry shortcake toward her, offering a second dessert to compensate for the other four courses she’d missed. She gave him a grateful smile. The table of ten was rounded out by an accountant and her husband, a software designer and his wife, and a couple of prominent local business owners and their respective spouses.

As a result of her late arrival, it wasn’t until after the coffee service was over that Avery realized Justin was in attendance. When she finally did see him, when his eyes skimmed over her even from the other side of the room, her body tingled as if he’d actually touched her.

The man was spectacular in scrubs. Dressed in a shirt and tie, he was mouthwatering. And in black tie, he was breathtaking. Literally. Because when he started across the room, his gaze locked on hers, she could not draw any air into her lungs.

“Dr. Wallace,” he said, inclining his head in greeting.

“Dr. Garrett,” she returned, grateful that her cool tone gave no hint of the heat that flooded her system. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I usually prefer to write a check in lieu of attending these kinds of events,” he admitted.

“But not this year?”

He lifted a shoulder “I heard that you were going to be here.”

“You didn’t pay $1500 for a ticket because I was going to be here,” she chided.

“You’re right—I didn’t,” he admitted. “I convinced my cousin Nate—the CFO of Garrett Furniture—to pay $1500 for a table in support of a good cause and for the charitable tax receipt. But I only sat at that table because I wanted to see you.”

“I should thank your cousin, on behalf of the Mercy Hospital Foundation, for his generous contribution toward the purchase of an EOS imaging machine for the orthopedics department.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a pricey piece of equipment.”

She nodded. “And it will provide clear and detailed images of children’s entire limbs–the spine, arms or legs—with a single scan and a lot less radiation exposure.”

“I know what it does,” he told her.

She flushed. “Of course, you do.”

“Are you nervous, Dr. Wallace?”

“A little,” she admitted. “These gala events aren’t really my thing.”

“So it’s the event that has you feeling...edgy?”

“What else could it be?”

He just smiled—the slow, sexy curve of his lips making her heart pound even harder.

“You’ve got those sparkly things in your hair again,” he noted.

Again
. He was referring, of course, to New Year’s Eve. And though he said nothing more explicit in reference to that night, she could tell by the heat in his eyes that he was remembering what had happened between them.

She hadn’t forgotten, either. Not for one minute. But she wasn’t prepared to go down that road again. Instead, she shifted her gaze away, scanning the crowd. “Is your cousin here?”

Justin nodded. “That’s him on the dance floor—the one in the black tie.”

She smiled at that because all of the guests were in black tie—but no other man that she’d seen wore it quite as well as the one standing beside her right now. “Could you be a little bit more specific?”

He moved closer. “His wife is the gorgeous brunette in the fire engine–red dress.”

That description helped her narrow in on the couple. His cousin’s wife
was
gorgeous, and she and her husband made a striking couple.

“My parents were here earlier,” he told her. “But they left right after dinner to attend a showing at the art gallery for a friend’s daughter’s boyfriend’s sister—or something like that.”

She smiled. “Well, I hope they enjoyed their meal.”

“It was good, but the lobster ravioli was a little overcooked.”

“I can’t argue with that—I missed the pasta. And the spinach salad. And the beef tenderloin with mushroom risotto. I got caught up at the hospital and arrived late,” she explained.

He frowned. “What did you eat?”

“Strawberry shortcake.”

“If you’re hungry, I can ask someone to heat you up a plate.”

She was touched that he would think of it, and tempted to accept his offer. But she wasn’t really here for the food. She was supposed to work the crowd and squeeze every last dime that she could out of their fat wallets.

“Do you want the beef and risotto?” he asked, ready to invade the kitchen.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll probably stop for something on my way home, but for now, I’m fine.”

He looked at her hand on his arm, then up into her eyes.

She felt it then—the hum that started beneath her palm and spread through her whole body. She snatched her hand away, but it was too late. Awareness crackled and sizzled between them.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the couple he’d pointed out to her left the dance floor and came over to join them. He made introductions instead.

“So this is Avery,” Nate said, sliding a meaningful look toward his cousin as he shook her hand. “Now I understand.”

“Understand what?” she asked, glancing from Justin to his cousin and back again.

When Justin didn’t respond, Nate decided that he would. “Now I understand the reason my cousin—”

Chapter Seven

“W
ants to dance with you,” Justin hastily interjected, grabbing for Avery’s hand. “Come on—this is a great song.”

“I don’t want to dance right now,” she told him. “I want to chat with Nathan and Allison.”

“I’ll dance with you, Dr. Romeo,” Allison offered, sending a conspiratorial wink in Avery’s direction.

Nathan chuckled as his wife dragged Justin away.

“Are you going to finish what you were saying now?”

“Of course not,” he said. “That would break the guy code.”

“Then why did you let him think you’d tell me?”

“Because it’s so rare to see Justin squirm about anything, I couldn’t resist needling him a little.” He glanced at her. “That was doctor humor, in case you missed it.”

“How could I miss an obvious jab like that?”

He grinned at her response. “In any event, all you need to know is that Justin mentioned your name.”

“Is that significant?”

“Much more than you might think,” he told her. “My cousin’s problem—or one of them—is that everything has always come easily to him. He’s smart, talented, good-looking and rich. And on top of all of that, he’s a doctor. He saves lives on a daily basis, and he does it without breaking a sweat.

“The combination makes him pretty much irresistible to most females, and he has dated a lot of women, but none of them has warranted mention to his family or held his attention for very long.”

“Your wife seems to be doing a pretty good job,” she noted, watching Justin and Allison dance and laugh together.

“That’s because my wife is the most amazing woman in the world.” He grinned again. “Not that I’m biased at all.”

“Of course not,” she agreed.

His gaze shifted back to the dance floor, and she wondered how it would feel to have someone look at her the way Nate looked at Allison—as if she was the center of not just his whole world but the entire universe.

The Rolling Stones gave way to Whitesnake asking “Is This Love?” and several people left the dance floor, including Allison and Justin.

Nate shook his head. “Does this DJ own anything from the last decade?”

“Probably not,” Avery said. “He was likely given a specific playlist to appeal to the demographic with the most money.”

Allison sidled up to her husband. “Now it’s
your
turn to dance with me.”

“You know I hate eighties hair bands,” he grumbled.

“But you love me,” she reminded him.

“With my whole heart,” he agreed, letting her lead him to the dance floor.

“Come on,” Justin said to Avery. “It’s time for you to get out there, too.”

“Oh, um, I don’t think I should,” she hedged.

“Why not?”

“I’m supposed to mingle,” she reminded him.

“One dance,” he cajoled.

She wanted to refuse, because dancing with Justin—even one dance—was a bad idea. But if she continued to protest, he would suspect the true reason for her reluctance: she was afraid of the feelings that churned inside her whenever she was near him.

Instead, she let him take her hand and lead her to the dance floor, her heart pounding every step of the way. And then she was in his arms, so close to him that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. So close that every nerve ending in her body actually ached with wanting to be closer.

She forced herself to concentrate on the music and follow his lead, but the muscles in her legs were trembling and her head was spinning—

“Breathe.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “What?”

“You’re not breathing,” he told her.

“Oh.” She managed to drag air into her lungs, which alleviated some of the dizziness. But at the same time, she inhaled the clean masculine scent that was uniquely Justin. Now her head was spinning for a different reason.

Yep, agreeing to dance with him hadn’t just been a bad idea, it had been a monumentally bad idea. Like the Taj Mahal, Great Wall and Giza pyramid of bad ideas. And the song was barely half over.

She wanted him. It was pointless to deny it. No other man had ever affected her the way he did, made her want the way he did. And being with him here, somehow so close and not nearly close enough, was wreaking havoc with her system.

But even more dangerous than the attraction between them was her growing realization that she’d misjudged Dr. Romeo. Yes, he was the undisputed playboy of Mercy Hospital, but there was a lot more to him than the title implied, and the more time she spent with him, the more she genuinely liked him.

“This was worth the price of the ticket,” he said, the words whispered close to her ear, making her shiver. “Just being able to hold you like this.”