One Perfect Night. Teresa Southwick
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One Perfect Night
Teresa Southwick
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
Business meetings with the boss had been so much easier before she’d seen him naked.
Julie Carnes sat quietly at the conference table while Ben Carson, the regional vice president of Mercy Medical Center in Las Vegas, was wrapping up his remarks. Ben was hands-down the best-looking man she’d ever seen, including Ryan Reynolds, the actor he resembled so much. Six feet two inches of handsome man with light brown hair and sincere, dark brown eyes. He was also smart and fair. There was no one working in this hospital who wouldn’t go to hell and back if he asked, and she was no exception. She’d already been there because of him, in fact. He hadn’t suggested she go to hell, exactly, but what he’d said after their relationship had gotten complicated was just as effective. They had been over before they’d even really started.
“I want to thank all of you,” he said. “Everyone is doing more with less, and your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed.”
He looked around the table at the men and women who managed and directed different departments in the hospital. Julie was in charge of the Intensive Care Unit, and her responsibilities included budget and staffing, as well as monitoring the quality and continuity of care for each patient. The job was demanding, but recently, having to be around Ben made it even harder. Every time she saw him, it reminded her of how stupid she’d been to let him in—she’d really cared for him and he hadn’t cared for her, at least not enough to trust her.
Since he first started working at the hospital six months before, she’d been instantly attracted to Ben. They talked after meetings, had spontaneous lunches in the cafeteria, joked and laughed together. She liked making him laugh, sensing he didn’t do it easily. After so many months idling in that pattern, she thought he would never ask her out, but he finally did.
The perfect date was just dinner—nothing grander than a nice little Italian place in Henderson, not far from the hospital. They had both worn jeans, but his battered brown leather jacket made him look like a rugged, swashbuckling hero. He brought her a single white rose, her favorite flower. He opened the car door, the restaurant door, held her chair, made her feel special. It wasn’t a put on, just natural—a part of who he was.
On a first date she usually dreaded the awkward good-night kiss, the what-does-he-expect-now part. But it was different when Ben took her home that night.
“I had a great time,” he said.
“Me, too.”
His eyes held hers and her heart pounded like crazy when he cupped her cheek in his big palm, then leaned down to kiss her. Before that touch she’d planned to follow the minimum three-dates-before-sex rule. But when his mouth met hers—sweet, soft and sexy—desire that had simmered for six months exploded into a tide of passion that pulled her in and swept her away. It could have been seconds or hours that they stood there kissing. She’d never know.
Finally he came up for air and said, “I have to go before I can’t leave at all.”
“Then…don’t go.”
“I want everything to be perfect. It’s our first date.”
“Doesn’t feel that way. We’ve known each other for six months, but it seems like forever.”
“Julie, I don’t want to ruin the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Are you sure about this?”