TEMPTED BY HER BOSS (11 page)

He lowered his lips to her ear. ‘I don’t.’ It was a whisper. But he said it with the intensity he thought she was due.

He felt her suck in a breath and hold it. He straightened up and dropped a kiss on her head, pulling her close again. It felt natural. It felt like a completely natural response.

But they weren’t the actions of a team leader. And he knew that.

She relaxed against him for a few seconds, her hands reaching down and touching the sides of his waist.

Then he moved and did something he absolutely shouldn’t. He sat on the bed next to her and lay back, pulling her with him so she rested against his chest. His arms were encircling her warm body. He could still feel the shudders going through her. And he didn’t say a single word.

What was he doing?

He’d never had a relationship with anyone in his team before. He’d never got this close to anyone in his team before.

But Grace was different. From those first few moments in the shower he’d known things were different.

Keeping her at arm’s length was becoming more tricky. And he certainly didn’t have her at arm’s length right now. As soon as he’d realised how upset she was, he’d been unable to stop himself from putting his arms around her. He’d comforted lots of colleagues in the past by giving them a quick hug, but this was different.

Everything about Grace Barclay confused him. And part of him was hoping she was just as confused as he was.

The shuddering came to a peaceful end. He had one hand wrapped around her body and the other gently stroking her hair. It had seemed natural. He hadn’t even thought to stop. Their breathing had slowly synched and he could almost feel the gradual change in the air around them.

The time for comforting had passed. He really didn’t have an excuse to be lying on a bed with Grace Barclay now. But he didn’t really want to move.

And it seemed that neither did she.

He could sense the change in her breathing again. The awareness.

Electricity seemed to be forming in the air above them.

He squeezed his eyes closed. What was he thinking? They had young patients to prepare for transfer out there. Grace had notes to write up. And his mind was somewhere else entirely. He felt another sensation, a rush of blood and a stirring awareness elsewhere.

Enough.

He sat up rapidly, pushing Grace up along with him. For a second she looked a little flustered and he prayed she hadn’t noticed anything going on in his body.

He took a deep breath and tried to sound as professional as he could. ‘Better?’

He stood up and made a grab for Tyler’s notes, which he’d abandoned on a nearby chair.

She lifted her chin. She looked calmer now. More like herself. She licked her lips. ‘Better.’

Neither of them were going to acknowledge what had just happened.

He tried to keep it all business. ‘We need to write up Tyler’s notes to prepare him for the transfer.’

She nodded. He had no idea what was going on in her head right now.

She reached out her hand. ‘I’ll do it. You wait for the medevac team.’

It was back to business. She took the notes and pushed open the door. It let in a gust of fresh air that cooled the body parts that had been reacting and he watched her walk down the corridor to the nurses’ station and start writing.

He smiled. She’d just given him an order.

And, team leader or not, he kind of liked it.

CHAPTER SIX

G
RACE
’
S
PHONE
BEEPED
as she turned on the shower in the slightly rundown motel room. The only saving grace of this place, with its old-fashioned décor and rough towels, was the fact it looked directly onto the beach.

She was trying to calculate in her head how long she’d been awake, but her brain was currently mush, so she’d reverted to using her fingers. She had been up since six-thirty yesterday morning, then a late-night flight, arrival in the Florida hospital after midnight, followed by a full eleven-hour shift. Callum Ferguson had arrived just under an hour ago and taken a full handover from every member of staff, then he had promptly sent them all to go and sleep.

Donovan hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d been hanging around Callum like a moth to a flame. It was only natural. It had only been two years ago that Callum had experienced a heart attack on a DPA mission. Everyone was naturally protective of the man they all admired. But Grace had noticed there was an extra doctor in Callum’s team. She could only guess he’d been placed there by the director to ensure Callum had enough support.

Eventually, Donovan had agreed to leave but only with a guarantee that if there was an influx of patients he be called back in.

She put her hand under the shower, shrieked and pulled it back. The water was icy cold. A bit like the water at the DPA when Donovan had turned the showers off.

She looked out of her window at the beach. Maybe there was an alternative? The sun wasn’t even close to setting and there were still lots of people in the water. She opened her mammoth case and pulled out the orange bikini. Her friends must have had a sixth sense. She could put this to some use.

The phone beeped again and she picked it up. A text message from Lara.

Love you, honey, but you need to check out your Twitter feed.

She screwed up her face. What on earth did that mean? She tapped the app open and started to scroll down the last few hours of tweets. Her heart stopped and she held the phone closer to her face. Did it really say that?

Best way to get on a team? Get naked with the boss in a shower! #whosentthatmysteriouspackage?

Her legs felt like wobbly jelly and she sagged onto the corner of the bed. She recognised who had sent the tweet. It was another member of staff at the DPA. Frank Parker had always been obnoxious in the extreme but this was a whole other level.

Her hands started to shake. The first part was hurtful. Sexist. Something that wasn’t entirely unusual for Frank, whose ambition emanated from his very pores. He was obviously furious that she’d got the place on a team that he would have likely killed for.

But it was the hashtag that killed her. She took a deep breath. The upset shaking was stopping. It was being rapidly overtaken by trembling rage.

How dared he? He was implying that she’d had something to do with the package. That she had somehow manipulated things to trick her way onto a team.

It was pathetic. Truly and utterly pathetic. There was no conceivable way she could have predicted she would be opening mail that day—who on earth could switch on their telepathic powers to know someone else would be off sick? And who on earth could know that Donovan would have been the nearest team leader at that moment of time?

It was insulting, but it was also manipulative. Other members of staff at the DPA would have seen this. Why else would Lara have given her a heads-up?

She sent a quick text back, thanking Lara but containing a few expletives about Frank. She couldn’t help it. If he’d appeared in her room right now she could have killed him with her bare hands.

She started pulling her clothes over her head, leaving them scattered over the floor. Normally Grace was a neat freak. But all those compulsions had left her. She switched off the still-cold shower. There was no way she was getting in there.

Her shoulder gave a little twinge as she fastened her bikini top. It was odd, almost as if her body occasionally came out in sympathy with her. She grabbed her flip-flops and slammed the door behind her.

She wasn’t normally a beach bunny. She didn’t have the figure or the inclination for it. But today the beach had never looked so good. She was sticky. She was uncomfortable. And maybe a quick dip in the ocean would wash away the horrible sensation that was creeping over her skin.

Or maybe it would help her plan her revenge...

* * *

Donovan was fretting. It didn’t matter that Callum appeared to be back to full health and was working as a team leader again. It didn’t matter that someone had decided to put an extra member on his team.

He was still worried. He loved the big guy. He admired him. He wanted to
be
him when he grew up. Most of the doctors at the DPA felt like about the Granddad of Disease. He couldn’t imagine how sick to her stomach Callie Turner must have felt two years ago when Callum had had an MI on a flight with her. Which was why he had a horrible sinking feeling that he shouldn’t have left the hospital.

That was the trouble with admiring someone so much. He didn’t want Callum to think he was being disrespectful by hanging around. So now he would just have to make sure his phone was permanently charged in case of a call.

He heard a little yelp next door and gave a smile. He’d recognise that noise anywhere. Grace had obviously discovered the showers came from a mysterious underground water pump flowing directly from the Arctic. He’d tried to speak to the guy on the front desk about the cold water but he’d been on the phone and had just shrugged and gestured Donovan away.

He looked out at the blue ocean. Unsurprisingly there was no gym or workout room at this low-cost motel and Donovan thrived on his daily run. A jog along the beach would be perfect.

Even though he had an ocean view the walls in this smaller-than-average room felt as if they were pressing in around him. A sensation that didn’t sit well with him. It didn’t matter that it would be warmer outside than in. The air-conditioning in the room was clawing at his skin.

It was still light and the beach wasn’t too busy at this time of the day. There were only a few die-hard surfers and some families that hadn’t yet packed up for the day. He pulled on his running shorts and vest, tucking his cellphone in one pocket and his music player in the other. He could brave the cold shower later or, if the beach was quieter, he might even go for a swim.

It had been a long time since Donovan had run on sand. It didn’t matter that he’d moved onto the firmer sand next to the shoreline. He could still feel his muscles burn. The late afternoon sun felt good on his shoulders, relaxing even. The sounds of Dire Straits pounded in his ears.

Atlanta was so different from here. No beaches. No view of the never-ending ocean. There were a few parks but none close to where Donovan lived. Just miles and miles of apartments and buildings. Street running just wasn’t the same.

He could get used to this.

He glanced at his watch and slowed his speed. He averaged around three miles back home, listening to the same tracks. The beach was a little emptier now and he could feel the rivulets of sweat run down his back and chest. It had been years since he had gone swimming. Some of his friends had pools but they weren’t designed for serious exercise—not like the kind Donovan craved. Time for a swim in the ocean.

There were no warning flags. No lifeguards either. But Donovan wasn’t worried. He just wanted a chance to sluice off.

He ditched his running shoes and vest, putting his phone and MP3 player underneath the pile on the sand. It only took a few strides to reach the edge of the water.

He placed his hands on his hips and took a few deep breaths, arching his back to stretch out any lingering sore muscles. The water was chilly but not as cold as the shower.

As he took another few steps he could see a few people around him. A few hundred yards up the beach some surfers had gathered, half in the water and half out, watching the waves from under their hands as they shielded out the glare from the lowering sun.

A swimmer was coming back in, their smooth overhead strokes barely causing a ripple in the water around them. It was a woman and she slowed, obviously catching her feet on the seabed.

She moved closer as the water cascaded around her. Dark shoulder-length hair, a bright orange bikini and a curvaceous figure. Hadn’t there been a scene like this in a James Bond movie?

His breath tightened in his throat as he realised who it was. Grace. Somehow he hadn’t figured she’d prefer a dip in the ocean to the cold shower. Grace didn’t seem like the type.

He walked towards her, the waves surrounding his hips and chest. The water was streaming down her face and she rubbed her eyes as she took the tough strides forward against the tide.

Her hands froze as Donovan came into focus. He didn’t know where to put his gaze. It was automatically drawn to her breasts and hips in the orange bikini against her lightly tanned skin.

He’d already seen every part of Grace. But that didn’t matter. That had been work. That had been professional—and it had been a clinical emergency.

Seeing Grace Barclay gliding out of the water towards him, barely dressed, with the gradually dipping sun glinting off her tanned skin, was a whole other ball game.

‘Donovan.’ The word came out a little breathless. A little throaty. She might just have been swimming towards him—it might have been entirely natural for her to be out of breath—but the timbre of her voice had a direct effect on his senses.

He moved towards her, drawn like a magnet. Walking against the tide until only a few inches of ocean water held them apart.

Their gazes met in open acknowledgement of the sexual attraction between them. He could see the glimmer of nerves and uncertainty in her eyes. Why would Grace doubt he was attracted to her?

‘Hey,’ he murmured. He couldn’t stop his eyes devouring her body. Looking made his hands tingle to reach and touch all parts of her. This close he could see a few tiny freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Had they just appeared?

He had a new appreciation of her shorter hairstyle. Now none of her body was shielded from his gaze. Everything was there for his appreciation. And, boy, did he appreciate it.

Grace wasn’t acting too shy herself. ‘Hey,’ she replied, as her gaze focused on his broad chest. Donovan was used to working out. He liked to be fit. He liked to stay healthy. There was no spare fat on his body, just toned muscle. Her gaze followed the scattering of hair across his chest that darkened and increased as it drew her eyes downwards. It was almost teasing her to keep following its line across his flat abdomen and beyond.

No one else was near them. His peripheral vision was shutting out any movement or colour around them. All of his focus was on Grace. His internal monologue was trying to talk sense to him but right now he wasn’t thinking about the fact she was a member of his team. Right now he was doing his best to forget it. Right now he was concentrating on the fact that every time he was near Grace his senses were scrambled. All he could think about was acting on the unspoken acknowledgement between them.

He smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was a smile of expectation about what could happen next.

The sun was getting lower in the sky behind her, lighting up every curve of her body, every drop of water on her skin. He couldn’t have pictured her any more perfectly.

The tidal surges were strong. They were hit by one wave and dragged back towards the ocean by another. His reactions were automatic and his hands were on her waist in an instant. Her palms landed on his chest and they both lowered their gazes, staring at them there.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. The green almost hidden next to her wide dark pupils. He could see the pulse throbbing at the base of her neck and it willed him to lean a little closer. To touch it with his mouth.

‘Great minds think alike,’ he murmured. He was talking about the fact they’d both headed for the ocean. But it didn’t quite come out like that. Not while they were standing so close and their bodies were touching. It was as if the words danced across her skin, edging her closer until their hips met underwater. The cool water was doing nothing to dull the fire in his blood. Nothing to dampen his desire for her. If things heated up any more the ocean around them would start to sizzle.

His fingers around her waist pulled her even closer, leaving her in no shadow of a doubt about his reaction to her bikini-clad body.

Her body reacted too, her nipples hardening against his chest.

This was it. This was the outcome of the electricity that had been around them right from the start. If Donovan stuck his hand into a socket right now he could light up the national grid.

He felt her take a deep breath. It was as if she were calming herself. Steadying herself for the next step. She relaxed her head and neck, letting her head tip back to reveal the pale skin of her throat. Her hands moved, sliding slowly up his chest onto his shoulders, and he let out an involuntary groan. She raised herself on tiptoe under the water, bringing her head into closer alignment to his. He tipped his downwards until their noses almost touched.

Neither had really spoken. Only those few words. But the air around them was charged with electricity. Every time she breathed her barely covered breasts came into contact with the planes of his chest.

Donovan didn’t want to waste another second. He dipped his head and claimed her lips as his own, tasting the salt, mixed with some lip balm. Her arms curled around his neck as she pressed her body into his. Grace wasn’t shy. She was more than a match for his kisses.

Their mouths parted and the kiss deepened. His hands moved from her waist, sliding down the curve of her firm backside. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Grace Barclay was all woman. And, boy, did it turn him on.

There was a little noise. A little whimper as their kiss deepened. Heat was coursing through his body. He moved from her full lips, turning his attention to the soft skin of her neck and throat. Finding the throbbing pulse at the nape of her neck and luxuriating in her sighs as he worked his way round.