“And eat in the dining room.” She gave him her best don’t-mess-with-me glare, the one that snapped even the most quarrelsome patient back into line, but at the same time she noticed the lines around his mouth and eyes had deepened. He was dead on his feet, most likely with fatigue—another post-concussion symptom.
At times such as this she wished she’d chosen nursing for the paycheck. But, no, caring for others wasn’t just her job, it was her vocation. Somewhere deep inside her an empathy switch engaged any time she saw someone in pain. That meant she couldn’t walk away from this man and potential disaster no matter how loudly her internal warning sirens blared.
She took his arm and steered him toward the hotel. His bicep tensed beneath her touch, and she released him immediately. Glancing sideways at him, she asked, “Doesn’t it ever get old?”
“What’s that, sugar?”
“The come-ons. You’re exhausted, Toby. If I accepted your invitation for a night of nooky, you’d be hard-pressed to follow through.”
He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to the radiator-hot length of his body so fast she didn’t even have time to gasp. “Try me.”
Darn. There went that blip of her pulse again. She flattened her palm on his chest and tried to make light of the situation. “Not tonight. You have a headache.”
Her flippant reply made the corners of his lips curl…and there went her toes, doing the same. Why, oh, why did a man so totally wrong for her have so much power over her libido?
And then he kissed her. She stiffened with shock at the initial contact with his mouth. Her stubborn muscles ignored her order to retreat and loosened. His lips were soft. Hot. Insistent. Persuasive. His tongue stroked her bottom lip, slipped inside and tangled with hers. Long fingers cradled her nape, trapping her—not that she’d managed to work up the strength to protest yet.
But she would.
In a second.
Or two.
His other hand painted a trail of goose bumps down her back and settled at her waist. His leather-and-lime scent invaded her lungs and his warmth invaded her body. Her reasoning powers left through the same open door.
Why him? Why did Toby Haynes—daredevil extraordinaire—have to be the one to sweep her off her feet? Why couldn’t he be as gentle and considerate as the other men she dated, men who asked before each kiss and caress? Because then you’d turn him down. Right? Why did her body revel in his high-handedness?
She really had to stop him. But one kiss melted into two and then three. She clung to the lapels of his tux as her thoughts spiraled out of control. This wasn’t wise. But he tasted good, felt good, smelled good. Every cell in her body hummed to life.
Toby shifted, leaning back against a nearby building and pulling her between his thighs. As if she weren’t hot enough already, heat radiated off the stone wall, making her skin tight and dry. The lace of her bodice rasped her sensitive n**ples with each shuddered breath. His hand slid lower, cupping her bottom, heating her flesh and pulling her closer. The hard ridge of his erection scorched her belly through the thin silk of her dress, shocking her into awareness of where she was, what she was doing and with whom.
Oh, God. Not again. Didn’t you learn anything last time?
She planted her palms on his chest and wrenched her mouth free. His heart thumped fast and steady beneath her palm. Backing away, she wiped her damp mouth with the back of her hand as if that would wipe away the mistake she’d made.
“Find another playmate, Toby. I’m not interested.”
His gaze raked her face, her body, lingering on her br**sts, and then returned to her eyes. He didn’t say a word, but his expression—and her racing heart—called her a liar. He slowly eased himself away from the wall.
She hugged her wrap around her and walked toward the hotel. Even if she were foolish enough to overlook his profession, she’d heard the other drivers who’d visited Vincent joke about Toby’s short attention span with women and his legendary number of conquests.
Toby was all about temporary. She wanted forever. And she wanted forever without fear or conflict. Unfortunately her neglected hormones didn’t understand the concept of choosing wisely.
She had to find a way to avoid being alone with him or else her month in this fairy-tale kingdom would feel like an eternity running from the castle dragon.
“I’m sorry,” Madeline replied on Tuesday morning.
Disappointment wrapped around Amelia like a boa constrictor. The rapidly descending elevator left her stomach behind. “It’s okay. I understand.”
She hoped her suitemate didn’t hear the dismay in her voice. “You have fun with your tour guide. And, Madeline, if a vacation romance with him is what you’re after, then I hope it works out for you.”
She turned her attention to Stacy, the third occupant of the elevator. Amelia had only met Stacy a few times before this trip and she didn’t know her very well, but she had to enlist aid while Candace wasn’t around to interfere and she couldn’t be picky. “Stacy, any chance you’ll have some free time to take a Toby-watching shift?”
Stacy tilted her head. “Explain to me what you meant when you said you ‘accidentally’ slept with him.”
Amelia winced. Leave it to Candace’s accountant to want a logical explanation instead of the sketchy facts Amelia had offered—namely that Toby was trying to pick up where he and Amelia had left off ten months ago and she wasn’t interested.
“I’d had a rotten week. That Sunday I’d lost a long-term patient who left behind a grieving pregnant fiancée. Tuesday was the anniversary of the day Neal and I had planned to get married. And then Wednesday Candace and Vincent announced their engagement. Don’t get me wrong, I was—I am—thrilled for them, but it was just too much all at once, I guess. That night Toby asked me to go to dinner after my shift, and against my better judgment I accepted and…well, you know the rest.”
Stacy nodded and her turquoise eyes filled with sympathy. “All three incidents reminded you of what you’d lost, and you didn’t want to be alone. Toby was there, and you’re attracted to him so—”
“Believe me, I don’t want to be attracted. He’s totally wrong for me. He’s reckless and overconfident and—”
“I don’t think he’s overconfident,” Madeline interrupted. “Look at him. He’s rich, gorgeous and successful. He certainly knows how to make a woman feel good. You could do worse. Candace is right, Amelia. You’ve been mourning too long. It’s time to get back in the game. I wouldn’t expect forever from Toby, but you should consider him for a vacation fling. You know, to oil your rusty hinges.”
The idea both titillated and repelled her. “No, thank you. I’m not the fling type.”
“Honey, anybody can be the fling type given sufficient motivation,” Madeline said.
Stacy touched her arm. “I’ll do what I can to run interference, but remember I’m not a medical professional. The only thing I know about concussions is what I’ve seen on the Discovery Channel, and that’s not much.”
“I’ll tell you what to look for.”
“Stacy, don’t forget your delicious French chocolatier,” Madeline added. “Franco might have something to say about how you spend your time.”
Stacy blushed and ducked her head.
Amelia struggled to hide her grimace. From what she’d learned last night when the women had returned from the casino, both Stacy and Madeline had met men who might monopolize their non-wedding-planning hours. That meant Amelia would be on her own most of the time, because Candace certainly wasn’t going to help her avoid Toby. In fact, the bride-to-be seemed determined to do the opposite.
The elevator doors opened. Dread knotted Amelia’s stomach, but she squared her shoulders and walked with the others toward the small, private hotel dining room for the wedding-cake sampling. She could handle this. She wasn’t emotionally fragile anymore. The anniversary of her nonwedding didn’t hurt as much these days, and she’d avoid alcohol—both contributing factors to her stumble into Toby’s arms.
She blamed her overzealous reaction to his kiss last night on the element of surprise combined with strolling down the moonlit sidewalks of Monaco—a magical place where princes really did marry commoners.
Even fairy tales have flaws, her practical side interjected. Monaco royalty hadn’t exactly lived a charmed life.
Being swept off her feet was fine for fantasies and fairy tales, but choosing a mate for practical reasons instead of letting her hormones and pheromones rule gave her a better chance of having a successful marriage.
In the meantime, she’d simply devote herself one hundred percent to the wedding arrangements. A man’s man like Toby Haynes would avoid the girlie stuff the way he would a full-body wax. Sure, he’d agreed to carry out his best-man duties, and he and Amelia would have to work together on the Jack and Jill shower and the wedding-party luncheon, but she’d bet her trusty Camry he wouldn’t be caught dead sampling wedding cake, picking out flowers or choosing bridesmaids’ dresses.
All she had to do was keep busy with maid-of-honor tasks and he’d stay out of her way.
And then Amelia stepped into the dining room and her plan imploded. Toby stood beside the linen-draped table, talking to Candace and a chef. He looked perfectly comfortable and devastatingly attractive in pressed khakis and a pale blue polo. His jaw gleamed from a recent shave and his hair was still damp from his shower.
His gaze met hers. He toasted her with a crystal glass, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile.
She gulped. So much for Plan A.
Plan B, where are you?
Three
“You can run, sugar, but you can’t hide.” Toby stuck his boot in the gap before Amelia could shut the door in his face Wednesday morning.He pushed his way into her suite. She’d given him the slip after the cake thing yesterday and gone shopping with her suitemates. Today he’d stick to her tight little tush like a tattoo.
He gave her the once-over. Twice. She looked adorable in her prissy white ruffled nightie with pink cheeks and bedhead. He’d always found bedhead kinda sexy—especially if he was the one who’d caused it.
“Toby, it’s early. Why are you here?”
The early-morning huskiness of her voice revved his engine.
“Found a couple of places for the parties. You need to see them before I sign contracts. The car will be here in thirty minutes. Need help dressing?” He didn’t expect her to say yes, but if she did, the car would have to wait.
“I haven’t even had coffee. Go away and come back in an hour.” Shoving her hair away from her face with both hands, she wandered deeper into the sitting room. The sun streaming through the wide window made her long gown damn near transparent. He bit back a groan. Granted, Amelia didn’t have the Playboy-bunny curves of most of the women he dated and bedded, but the curves she had were in all the right places and looked mighty fine at the moment.
Without looking away from the mouthwatering view, he unclipped his phone from his belt. “I’ll ask the driver to have coffee waiting in the limo. C’mon, sugar, move your tail—unless prancing around in front of that window in your sexy see-through gown is an invitation for me to spend the day here with you.”