Heart Trouble

HEART TROUBLE

Jenny Lyn

www.loose-id.com

Heart Trouble

Copyright © August 2013 by Jenny Lyn

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

eISBN 9781623003920

Editor: S. N. Graves

Cover Artist: Mina Carter

Published in the United States of America

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 809

San Francisco CA 94104-0809

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

Dedication

To Lori, Daisy, Joan, and Sopphey, for being in my corner from the beginning. You gals rock!

Acknowledgments

My sister-in-law, Sonya (BSN, RN—with more initials constantly being added), for her knowledge and patience with me through all the medical questions.

My editor, S. N. Graves, for seeing so much more potential in my story, and for pushing me to dig deeper and make it that much better. She was right of course, as editors often are.

Loose Id for giving me the opportunity to write for them. I hope this is the start of a long and lovely relationship.

Chapter One

“Why are all this band’s songs about fucking?” Erin Taylor all but shouted the question over the blare of an obnoxious song about a stripper in a pretty pink thong.

Her friend, Tess, snorted against the salted rim of her glass, then proceeded to choke on the sip of margarita she’d been trying to swallow. Erin laughed and pounded Tess on the back while she sputtered and wheezed air into her lungs.

“Jesus,” Tess squawked, coughing to clear her throat and blinking away tears born of near strangulation. “I think you enjoy catching me off guard like that!”

Erin grinned, undeterred. “Maybe.”

Erin plucked the tiny straw from her drink and shoved it in her mouth, needing an outlet for the restless energy that wound her body tight as a guitar string.

No way was dancing an outlet for that energy. Not to this music and not in the dress Tess had managed to zip her into. It was going to take a pair of scissors and a crowbar to get her out of the damned thing. She could barely cross her legs, it was so short and snug. Talk about looking like a stripper. Erin felt like a streetwalker in the revealing getup. What she wouldn’t give for her comfortable sneakers and scrubs right now. Even those putrid green ones some of her coworkers at the hospital favored would suffice.

Tess reached over and snatched the mangled straw from Erin’s mouth, tossing it on the table in disgust. “Stop acting like a guy. We’re here to let loose, have some fun, maybe get lucky.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So look available and push those spectacular boobs out.”

Erin glanced down at the deep V in the front of the dress and frowned. “If I straighten my back, they’re going to pop loose and put someone’s eye out. And I’m not here to ‘get lucky’, not with this crowd. I lost a bet, plain and simple, and I never renege on a bet. My poker-lovin’ daddy would roll over in his grave,” Erin drawled, letting her gaze drift over the writhing, mostly drunk crowd of Jacksonville’s newest nightclub, Blue. “How did you know Dr. Phelps was going to pick Petree over French as chief of surgery anyway? Lucky guess?”

Tess smiled, sipping at her drink. “Let’s just say about a year ago I accidentally interrupted something intimate in Dr. French’s office involving him, Phelps’s pretty young wife, and some disheveled clothing. I figured Dr. Phelps was just biding his time. Sooner or later French was going to be up for the position. He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting that job.”

“That’s cheating, Tess. You baited me into that bet, already knowing the outcome.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t a sure thing. And you won’t admit it, but you needed a night out.” Tess leaned her elbows on the table, staring Erin in the face. “You work all the time. Taking extra shifts instead of resting and taking care of yourself. You can’t keep going like that, girlfriend. It’s going to kick your ass eventually.”

Erin swallowed the last of her watery bourbon, avoiding Tess’s eyes altogether. “I can handle it.”

“Whatever.” Tess sighed in exasperation. “I might as well be talking to that chair for all it’s worth.”

Tess was right, of course. She knew Erin too well. But immersing herself in work had become habit, a balm for an achy, empty heart. Besides, what did she have at home except space?

A sadistic giggle from Tess drew Erin back from the maudlin thought.

Two guys—one ginger, one brunet—pushed through the crowd, headed their direction, beers in hand, snake-charmer smiles plastered across their too-young faces. As the brunet started to speak, his gaze landed on Erin’s chest instead of her face. Big mistake. She held up her hand to stop him before he uttered a single syllable, then made a shooing motion with her fingers. His mouth snapped shut, and they both scowled and left, muttering something about a bitch. Erin didn’t care what they called her. Neither one of them was mature enough to waste a functioning brain cell on, so no need to bother with the ridiculous chitchat.

Tess chuckled beside her. “You’re a finicky wench, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you intrigued by one of those nubile young bucks?” she teased. “Would you like me to chase them down and drag them back to the table so you can play cat and mouse for a while before you bust their tiny, hairless balls?”

That drew a cackle of laughter, and Erin smiled in return as her friend’s pretty face lit up, jet-black curls bouncing around her flushed cheeks. “No, but part of the bet was that you had to flirt with one man tonight until he at least bought you a drink. You choose the man.”

Erin made a very unladylike noise. “Those seem to be in short supply here.”

“Come on, Erin. There must be someone here that sparks your interest. It’s just one lousy drink and ten minutes of conversation.”

“What happens if I don’t go through with it?”

“We do this another night until you do.” Tess quirked an eyebrow, knowing she had Erin with the horrible threat. “And if that still doesn’t work, I’ll tell Nurse Flannigan you were the one who stole her bag of candy bars last Halloween.”

Erin gasped. Anyone who worked in medicine knew a pissed-off nurse could make life hell for a doctor if crossed. “You wouldn’t!”

“I so would.”

“Ooh, you fight dirty. All right, fine.”

Sitting up straighter in her chair, Erin studied the crowd again, this time with a purpose.
Let’s get this over with, so I can get home and out of this godforsaken dress and the torture devices on my feet that Tess calls shoes.

Finally, her gaze landed on someone interesting. Well, more than interesting. Tall, dark, and hotter than all the other men in the bar combined, maybe even all Jacksonville. He looked just as bored as she was as his eyes perused the room with lackluster interest. He didn’t appear interested in scoring a hookup, though several of the women nearest him were giving him the lust eye. His back was propped against one of the four bars in the cavernous club, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Dark brown hair grazed his collar. He had a full mouth, straight nose, and intense eyes, with just a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He wore a navy-blue T-shirt that hugged his broad chest, faded jeans on long legs, and black lace-up boots. Yeah, her interest was piqued.

“What about him?” Erin asked Tess, nodding over her shoulder. “Dark hair, blue shirt at the bar.”

“Oh, angry guy. I saw him come in about an hour ago.”

“Angry guy?”

“He looks pissed, or at least savagely bored. Go make him feel better, but remember, you can’t tell him what you do.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

Tess shook a finger in Erin’s face. “You scare men away with your doctor brain and don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. You lost the bet, so we do this
my
way, missy. You look like a goddess tonight. Be a vixen for a change.”

“You mean a bimbo.”

She gave Erin a playful shove. “Go. Work that amazing body you keep hidden under baggy scrubs. Who knows what might happen,” she added with a saucy wink.

Erin fished a twenty-dollar bill out of her small clutch before tossing it back on the table. “I might break an ankle in these outrageous shoes. That’s what might happen,” she grumbled as she slid off the chair. When her feet touched the floor, she futilely tugged the hem of the dress down her thighs, then pushed her shoulders back. Taking a deep breath, she headed for her victim, trying her best not to wobble in Tess’s stilettos.

There were two ways she could approach this: truth or tale. Tess wasn’t kidding around. As soon as Erin told a man what she did for a living, any heat that might have been building between them instantly cooled. The last attractive guy she’d met outside the hospital turned to ice so fast it was a wonder she didn’t get frostbite the second she told him she was a doctor. She seemed to have this uncanny radar for insecure men. Couple that with her blunt mouth and workaholic tendencies and… Well, it had been a long time since she’d had an orgasm that wasn’t brought on by a battery-operated device or her own digits.

She’d just have to wing it.

* * * *

Sean almost swallowed his tongue with the gulp of beer he’d taken when he noticed the stunning blonde headed his way. He dropped his other foot to the floor, bracing himself for her impact. If it weren’t for her focused intensity, eyes trained on his face, he’d have thought she was gunning for someone else. The crowd parted for her like the Red Sea, every male head turning to admire in her wake—and with good reason.

The red dress she wore was pure sin. Short and snug, it displayed a pants-tightening amount of cleavage and long, tanned legs. Her stick-straight hair fell to the tips of her lush breasts. The first word that popped into his head when he looked at her was bombshell. The second was sex.

Fuck, he was here to work, not get distracted by his neglected dick.

He turned sideways, propping his elbow on the bar top, and waited for her to make the first move.

She tilted her head, gaze roaming over his face while he did the same. She had the palest blue eyes he’d ever seen, and a mouth that deserved hours devoted to nothing but kissing.

“You look bored,” she said, cutting straight through the bullshit.

He chuckled, sat his beer bottle down on the bar. “I was.”

She smiled, and he damned near hit his knees. “And now?”

“Things are looking up. Way up.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sean.”

She took it in hers, warm and firm. Not one of those girly, limp-wristed handshakes. “Nice to meet you, Sean. I’m Erin.”

She didn’t look like an Erin. She looked like a Jenna. Damn, now he was comparing her to a porn star. Only Erin was hotter. And prettier. And he’d bet a month’s salary those breasts were real. Upon closer inspection, so was the hair color. Not that he had anything against fake tits and dye jobs; he just preferred the real thing if given a choice.