The Playboy Doctor Claims His Bride. Janice Lynn
and wouldn’t have under different circumstances.”
Sad, but true.
“Yes, it would have.”
Spicy, sexy musk toyed with her senses. She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed because she worried that if she looked at him, she’d have to touch. Absolutely have to.
“I’m sorry you got dragged into my bad day,” she plunged on, needing to talk, needing to do anything that kept her from reaching out to run her finger over the cleft in his chin. “I regret the entire evening.”
“You regret meeting me?” He sounded as if he didn’t believe her.
Knowing they’d be coworkers, she should regret having met him, but her heart ached at the thought of not having the comfort she’d felt as she’d drifted to sleep in his arms. At not experiencing the mind-shattering passion his kisses had evoked. She’d had a bad day. He’d made her feel better. No matter how much she should, she didn’t regret them making love.
She couldn’t tell him that.
Doing so would only make what she had to do more difficult.
Indifference. She needed indifference.
“Yes,” she choked out. “I regret meeting you.”
“Open your eyes.”
She forced her eyelids open, looked into his dark eyes and swallowed. Hard. Lord, he looked as if he really had been hurt that she’d left him.
“Now, say you regret meeting me and mean it.” He shook his head when her lids automatically lowered. “Don’t close your eyes, Kasey. Look at me, and tell me you regret what we shared, because I don’t believe you.”
She wanted to scoot her chair toward the wall to put more distance between them, but she needed to make a strong stand. Her job, her peace of mind was at stake. She should push him off her desk, but didn’t dare touch him. To do so would send her few functioning brain cells into sexual dementia.
Focus on your goals, Kasey. She gave herself a mental pep talk. Career, helping others, social status, being a valued member of society. A fling with a coworker robbed you of that once. Eric is a coworker with an influential family.
“Is your ego so big you can’t accept that I made a mistake in going to your hotel room?” she accused, going on the attack. She had to destroy the chemistry between them. Because she had to deny it. She couldn’t go through what she’d gone through with Randall.
Somehow she suspected recovering from Eric would rob her of a lot more than Randall’s decision she was good enough to sleep with but not good enough to give his last name to.
“No, my ego isn’t that big.” He leaned across her desk, staring straight into her eyes, his breath caressing her lips. “But I was there that night.”
“I remember.” She hadn’t meant to sound nostalgic, but her voice held a touch of longing she couldn’t deny. She shook off the erotic memories and put on the flat affect she’d perfected in the days following the fiasco with Randall. In the days before Skymont Hospital had let her go. “I took advantage of you that night.”
“What?” His forehead wrinkled in surprise.
She sighed. How much could she tell him without also admitting how much being near him affected her? Was this what her mother had battled every time a sexy man had come near? This overwhelming need to touch? To be touched?
If so, Kasey was grateful the first thirty years of her life had passed without her knowing such carnal craving.
“Like I said,” she began, wishing he weren’t so close, that she didn’t feel every inch Betsy Carmichael’s daughter, right down to the burst of pheromones dictating she forget everything except how this man’s lips had felt against hers. “I had a bad day.”
“Which doesn’t explain how you used me.”
She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could pull off when she couldn’t breathe. “Don’t you get it? I didn’t want to be alone. You were convenient. End of story.”
A glimmer of anger shone in his eyes. “You’re saying any man would have done?”
“If it meant not being alone that night?” She called upon all her strength and lied through her teeth. “Any man would have done.”
He smoothly shifted to stand by the black leather chair wedged between her desk and the corner of the office. Genuine shock shone on his face. Would he realize she was oversimplifying the night’s events? She couldn’t give him that opportunity.
“When I saw you with Dr. Douglas this morning…” Sitting forward, she continued her assault before he regrouped his thoughts, an assault directed as much at her libido as at Eric. “I just wished you’d go away. I don’t do one-night stands. At least, I never had until that night. If I’d known I’d see you again, I never would have shared a drink with you, much less gone to your hotel room.”
How horrible did that admission make her sound?
How much did it brand her Betsy Carmichael’s daughter?
Was it even true? No. Eric had made her feel better, made her feel whole. She would have gone anywhere he’d led.
What scared her was that even now, when she was thinking more logically about her mother’s death, when she knew she’d slept with a man similar to Randall, Eric still made her feel dazed, made her want to go where he led.
“Then I’m glad you didn’t know we’d see each other again.” He crossed his arms, his fingers coming so close to touching her she imagined she could feel his body heat sear through her clothes. “I enjoyed making love to you, Kasey.”
“I imagine so.” She couldn’t keep the snideness out of her voice. After all, she’d just compared him to Randall and he was playboy Dr. Douglas’s friend. “You should be grateful I left before you woke.”
He leaned back, eyed her, his lips twisted with displeasure. “Grateful that you used me for sex and left while I was asleep?”
Was her face as red as it felt?
“Most guys would be grateful to avoid an awkward morning after.”
His gaze unwavering, he shrugged. “I’m not most guys.”
Yes, she’d noticed that about him.
“The day we met wasn’t a good day,” she said for lack of knowing what else to say.
“So you’ve said. Yet you haven’t said what was so bad.” His voice held a gentle, concerned quality that made her want to squirm.
She didn’t want him to be nice. She didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to believe in the light shining in his eyes that said she could trust him.
Whatever his game was, she wouldn’t, couldn’t, play along. Neither would she.
“What happened to send you into that bar?” Eric asked. “Into my arms?”
Her gaze dropped to the strong arms that had held her so securely. He sounded sincere. It would be so easy to give in, to lean on those broad shoulders.
She knew better, though. Randall had sounded sincere, had let her lean on his shoulders. Then he’d jerked the carpet out from under her feet and trampled on her while she was down.
“My life is none of your business.”
Unfazed by her snappish comeback, Eric stared into her eyes. “What if I want to make your life my business? What if I want to see you again because I wasn’t grateful you left without waking me?”
Was it even possible? She hadn’t thought so, but what if?
Each and every time she’d leaned on another person, she’d fallen. Even if Eric hadn’t been grateful she’d left, eventually