Lethal Exposure (2 page)

Linc laughed.

“What?”

“You’re terrified.”

“I’m not afraid and besides, there is no such thing as one special woman. All women are special.”

“Spoken like a man who’s never been in love.”

That statement irritated Sebastian. What was it about people in love? They turned so smug, as if they’d discovered the ancient secret of the ages or something.

Linc pulled to the curb.

This was it. Time to tell him he was making him a partner. Maybe that would change Linc’s mind about this whole marriage nonsense. Sebastian reached into the backseat, unzipped his suitcase and took out the nameplate Blanche had wrapped in gold foil and tied with colored raffia.

Feeling awkward and far too sentimental for his own liking, he thrust the package at Linc. “This is for you.”

“What is it?”

“Just open it.”

Linc opened the package, then read the lettering out loud. “‘Lincoln Holt, partner.’”

Sebastian cocked a grin at his younger brother, smiling past the constriction in his throat. “I promised I’d make you partner.”

“Aw, hell, Seb.”

“Well?”

Silence filled the car.

“What do you say, partner?”

“Sebastian…there’s something else I gotta tell you.”

“Keeley’s pregnant?” he guessed. It was the only reason he could see for his brother’s hasty marriage.

“No, Keeley’s not pregnant.”

“Did I mention a raise comes with the partnership?”

Linc shook his head. “I can’t. Keeley’s uncle offered me a position at his security firm in Anaheim and I’ve accepted.”

“Oh?” Sebastian said lightly, as if he didn’t care, but inside his gut balled up tight against his spine. “You’re jumping ship right after I make you partner?”

Linc met his gaze. “You and I both know that I’m not cut out for public relations and this job with Keeley’s uncle would make use of the expertise I gained in the military.”

Sebastian felt the same way he did when Linc had told him he’d enlisted, like he’d been kicked in the gut with steel cleats. But he refused to let it show. He gave his brother his best public-relations smile. “This is really what you want?”

“It is.” Linc handed him back the nameplate.

He stuffed the damnable thing into his jacket pocket. “Then go for it.”

Relief shone in Linc’s eyes. “Thanks, man. I appreciate your understanding.”

His nose burned. The nameplate weighed heavily in his pocket. He blinked and shrugged. “Not a problem.”

Sebastian retrieved his carry-on luggage and humped it into the terminal with a backward wave at his brother. Once he was out of his Linc’s sight, he ditched the nameplate in a trash can, straightened his shoulders and moved through the security checkpoint. He found his gate and then boarded the plane, all the while managing not to feel a damned thing.

It was only when they were airborne and he had the Confidential Rejuvenations file in front of him that the familiar—but unwelcome—sensation of abandonment stole over Sebastian.

Knock it off, Black. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Focus on the job. It always saves your ass.

Work and a night on the town with a beautiful woman.

That was exactly the antidote he needed. It never failed. A new assignment in a new city and a new woman to make him forget all about these unwanted feelings of missing out on something important. He was on the road again and as soon as he got to Austin, he planned on seducing the first appropriate female who crossed his path.

After all, it had been months since he’d had a soft, willing woman in his arms and he had a reputation to uphold.

“DEMARCO,” Maxine Woodbury called down the immaculately clean corridor. She was a sixty-nine-year-old emergency-room ward secretary who’d been floated up to Confidential Rejuvenations’ sexual dysfunction unit while the regular ward secretary was on maternity leave.

“Yes?”

“You’ve got a new admit coming in.”

Julie DeMarco, R.N., suppressed a heavy sigh. It was her third admission of the day and while that was nothing unusual, the double whammy of crappy news she’d gotten in the morning mail had her feeling far less than her customary enthusiastic self.

Normally, Julie was known around the hospital for her cheery, glass-half-full optimism. She prized a sense of wonder and tried to look at the world with kindness, hope and empathy. Sure, she got teased for it. And yes, she’d been a cheerleader in high school. She couldn’t seem to help herself. She did tend to look on the bright side of life.

At work, she favored special-order pink scrubs patterned with red hearts and wore her long, wavy blond hair pulled back in a perky ponytail. Outside of the hospital environment, Julie wore floral prints and paisleys and richly textured fabrics that flowed softly when she moved and she allowed her hair to tumble about her shoulders in unbound curls.

She knew she wasn’t a classic beauty. Her eyes were too wide, her forehead a bit too narrow, her lips too lavish and she was self-conscious about her slightly crooked front tooth. She’d promised herself veneers when she’d passed her credentials to become a certified sex therapist, but it looked like the veneers would have to wait. One of the letters she’d received that morning was the disheartening news she’d flunked her qualifying exam.

The second unsettling piece of mail had come from her ex-lover, Roger.

At the thought of the letter resting in the pocket of her lab jacket, Julie curled her fingernails into her palms. Just when she thought she was finally getting over him, he’d sent her into an emotional tailspin again.

Dearest Julie,

These last six months have been torture without you. I think of you constantly and dream of being with you again. I miss the taste of your lips. The sweet lavender scent of your hair. The bright hopefulness of your smile. I would love to get together and rekindle our old bond. Please know you’re never far from my thoughts.

All my love,

Roger

The rat bastard wanted a booty call.

She inhaled sharply. His letter held not a single mention of the reason they’d broken up. Julie had discovered that he’d neglected to tell her one crucial little detail about his life.

Roger had a wife. And he had a daughter just eight years younger than she.

It’s what you get for dating older men.

The familiar guilt that had haunted her from the day she’d discovered Roger was a married man—the same day she’d broken things off with him—clamped down on her.

She felt like such a stupid romantic fool. Roger had been only her second lover. Her first lover had been her college biology professor, who’d broken up with her once the semester was over and gone on to another student.

She was a walking cliché. Burned twice by older men and her sexual naïveté. Her lack of in-depth, hands-on sexual experience was the main reason she’d asked to be assigned to the sexual dysfunction unit and it was the motivation for her decision to get certified as a sex therapist. She thought the knowledge could help her learn how to differentiate sex from love.

It was something she clearly had trouble doing.

Julie thought about Roger’s letter and how much he’d hurt her. She’d been so ashamed she hadn’t told anyone about her mistake except her two best friends, Elle and Vanessa.

Her stomach knotted. Until Roger, she’d believed in fairy-tale romances and she’d always thought of herself as a “good” girl. Now she felt tainted, dirty.

Shaking her head, Julie sidled up to the resplendent green granite counter of the nurses’ station. “What’s the new admit’s diagnosis?”

Maxine was a thin, feisty woman who loved Confidential Rejuvenations so much she ignored the fact that she was past retirement age and just kept working. She dyed her hair flame-red and had a penchant for turquoise jewelry. Today she wore a pair of dangly phoenix earrings.

“Priapism.” Maxine winked.

This time Julie did sigh. “Priapism” was the medical term for an erection that wouldn’t abate even with repeated sexual activity. The cause was usually drug-induced. “Viagra?”

“Some herbal thing.”

“Guest’s age?”

Confidential Rejuvenations’ new policy was to call the patients “guests” as part of the hospital’s attempts to revamp their image damaged by recent scandals. In Julie’s estimation it was a silly idea, but no one had asked her opinion.

“He’s thirty-one.”

“So this was a recreational thing, not a home remedy for impotence?”

“Apparently.”

Julie frowned. “Boys and their toys.”

Maxine glanced over her right shoulder, and then over her left. Finally she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “The patient is a Hollywood director who’s been shooting a film here in Austin. He’s being admitted under a generic alias to the Corona Suite.”

It wasn’t uncommon for celebrities to dodge the paparazzi by signing in with bland monikers like Smith or Jones or Black.

“But before you escort him to his suite,” Maxine continued, “Dr. Carpenter wants you to put him in exam room one, do a physical assessment and then call him when you’re done.”

“Gotcha.” Julie grabbed her laptop computer that was docked on a rolling cart, and headed off down the tiled corridor to check on the rest of her “guests” before the hotshot Hollywood director showed up on the floor.

She’d just completed her rounds when a man in a beige London Fog raincoat got off the elevator and came toward her. He smelled of musky autumn rain and dark truffles.

Stunned, she stood there staring.

He was movie-star gorgeous, causing her to wonder why he’d chosen a career behind the camera instead of in front of it. Tall and lean, but muscular as an athlete. His thick black hair was brushed back off his forehead, giving him a powerful appearance, which was complemented by his perfectly tailored navy blue suit, cream-colored shirt and maroon silk tie. His eyes were enigmatic, his cheekbones high and chiseled, his mouth wide and inviting. His eyes, fringed by lush lashes, looked black as ink and full of mystery.

He was the kind of man who made even a die-hard romantic like Julie surrender her happily-ever-after daydreams for the promise of one unforgettable night in his bed.

Definitely a Hollywood type. This had to be her guy.

The air between them weighed heavy with expectation. He looked as if he owned the entire hospital and everyone in it. He looked as if he wanted to own her as well.

Feeling ambushed by this totally unexpected and wholly inappropriate sexual attraction, Julie’s stomach pitched as a dozen wayward fantasies flipped through her mind.

She pictured herself rolling around on a bearskin rug in a woodsy Alaskan cabin with the guy. She imagined their sweat-drenched bodies pressed together as they made love on the white sand beach in the Canary Islands. She envisioned them writhing against each other on the dance floor of a trendy salsa club as they danced the Lambada.

He was an Artic explorer and she was a native woman offering him the comfort of her igloo…and her body. She was a high-class call girl and he was her frisky sugar daddy and they were joining the mile-high club on a first-class trip to Paris. He was a virile cowboy and she was a sassy saloon gal.

In her wildly imaginative mind, she could taste the briny flavor of his skin as she licked his bare nipple. She inhaled the intrinsic scent of lusty man. She could hear his deep-throated groan as he called out her name in pleasure.

Whoa!

What was wrong with her? He was a patient. She was a nurse. It was inappropriate, unprofessional and wrong on about ten different levels. She should not be feeling these sensations.

And yet, she was.

Stop this now.

She tried to make her mind blank. Tried to tamp down the erotic vision of what his hot male body would look like stripped of his London Fog raincoat and designer suit. She tried to slam the brakes on her taboo fantasies.

But she could not.

Oh, this was bad, bad, bad. She was supposed to be the sex expert, but she was the one who needed therapy.

Shocked by the intensity of her emotions, her gaze dropped helplessly to his crotch.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she murmured.

Oh, no, whispered his impudent ego, where have you been all my life? A sexually confident woman bold enough to overtly check out his package in public? He gave her the once-over and the first thing he noticed was that she wasn’t wear a wedding band.

Hmm.

Her tongue flicked out and she ran it across her full, strawberry-colored lips.

Spellbound, he simply stared. He liked her. He liked her a lot.

She stood at the end of the corridor in front of a floor-to-ceiling stained glass window. The late-afternoon sun filtering in through the myriad of colors cast a radiant rainbow over her smooth, creamy skin. The center of the stained glass art was an unfurling red rose. The sunlight shimmered, bathing her honey-blond hair, which was pulled back so appealingly in a long ponytail, in a blushing pink glow.

Like zinfandel. Sweet, light, innocent.

The sight was evocative enough to cause instant sweat to bead on his brow in spite of the temperate climate inside the hospital.

Sebastian had an almost irresistible urge to pull the clasp from her hair and run his fingers through those silky locks. He couldn’t pry his eyes off her and he had no idea why. He normally went for leggy redheads with big boobs, not diminutive waifs with vulnerable eyes. His heart literally skipped a beat and the unexpected reaction disturbed him. Usually the only time his pulse skittered was when he successfully steered a client’s reputation out of the skids.

His gaze dropped to the round curve of her breasts. Her name tag said Julie. A sweet romantic name.

He glanced up.

Their gazes met.

Cemented.

She possessed the most interesting blue eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes the same color of the Pacific Ocean.

Her lips parted.

Sebastian gulped.

Quickly, she glanced away, but then a second later her gaze was on his again, assessing him with slow, deliberate intent until he began to feel like a bug under a microscope.

She narrowed her eyes, pressed her lips together in a firm line and crooked a finger at him. “Come with me.”

He followed. At this point, he would have gone straight to hell if that’s where she was leading.

Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked quietly against the marble tile. The lemony smell of cleaning solution filled the air. His gaze fixated on the sway of her spectacular ass.

She took a key from her pocket, unlocked a heavy oak door, turned the handle and pushed inside. He went in with her and found himself standing in a state-of-the-art examination room. The leather exam table was obviously new and covered with crisp white butcher paper. The fixtures on the walls were shiny, polished chrome.

Was this where he’d be taking his meeting with the hospital’s owners? Unexpected, but okay. Or maybe she was just putting him in here while she went to round up the Confidential Rejuvenations executives.

He shrugged out of his raincoat and hung it on the coatrack beside the door. The room was bigger than a run-of-the-mill exam room, but still small. He turned and found himself face-to-face with her.

She stole his breath with a reassuring smile. The woman made him think of sunflowers and golden retriever puppies and hand-squeezed lemonade. Not a combo he’d ordinarily think of as sensual, but somehow she made wholesome look hot.

Sebastian was acutely aware of a steady strumming of sexual energy flowing from him to her and back again. Her impact was not the full-on whammy of a classic beauty, but instead it was more like the comforting appeal of hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows on an icy winter’s day.

You’re from L.A., what do you know about an icy winter’s day?

Ah, there was the voice of reason struggling to break through the odd spell she’d cast over him. She possessed a certain earthy quality that called to something deep inside him. Something basic, raw and entirely new.

His pulse accelerated. Amazed by his body’s overt reaction, Sebastian had to clear his throat in order to speak. “I want…” Dammit, how could he think with her staring at him that way?

“Yes?” she coaxed, low-voiced as a priest in confessional.

I want. I want. I want.

What did he want? Sebastian frowned, yanked his gaze from her sweet lips and looked deeply into her blue eyes, fringed with long lashes. “Uh…”

Terrific, Black, a speechless spin doctor? He couldn’t ever recall a woman leaving him tongue-tied.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take your clothes off?”

“Huh?” For one wild, incomprehensible moment, he thought she was suggesting they get naked together.

She reached for a pair of purple latex examination gloves resting on the green granite countertop. “I need for you to get undressed so I can do an initial assessment on you and report my findings to Dr. Carpenter.”

He blew out a breath of air on a tense laugh. “Oh, no, no, there’s been some kind of mix-up.”

“There’s no need to be ashamed. Many men experience erectile dysfunction.”

“Hey, hey, hey. I do not have erectile dysfunction.”

“Then why were you taking sexual enhancement supplements? Because you know, using impotency drugs—even when it’s an herbal medication—simply for fun and games can be deadly for your sexual health.”

“Huh?”

“How long have you had the erection?” Her gaze drifted down the length of his body.

He felt the heat of her glance straight to his bones. “Wait, wait.” He held up his palms. “You’ve obviously got me confused with someone else.”

At least this explained why she’d been staring at his crotch. Just the thought of having her examine him with those latex gloves on her lithe fingers shot chills up his spine. He didn’t know if they were chills of dread or anticipation. The prospect was oddly erotic, but in a scary kind of way.

“You’re Mr. Black, correct?”

“Yes, but I’m not a patient.”

She frowned. “You’re not the movie producer?”

“No.”

Flustered, her cheeks pinked and she took a step back, fingering the stethoscope around her neck.

“I’m Sebastian Black, from Back in Black Public Relations. The hospital’s hired me to improve Confidential Rejuvenations’ image after some recent…er…trouble.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment deepened the color in her cheeks from pink to red, pushing it all the way into her hairline. “Oh, no.”

He smiled to reassure her. “Don’t feel sheepish. I should have told you right away why I was here.”

“Well…um…I…” Clearly flustered, she dropped her gaze and started for the door, but he was standing in her way.

She went right.

He followed.

Head down, she dodged left.

He beat her to the punch, smoothly blocking her path.

“What?” she demanded, sounding irritated.

“Look at me.”

He could tell she didn’t want to do it, but he wasn’t moving until she did. She tilted her head.

Their gazes met and a renewed voltage surged between them.

He hadn’t felt an attraction this potent in a long time. The chemistry both unsettled him and stoked his curiosity. What was it about her that so piqued his interest?

It’s not about her. You’re just susceptible because of what happened this morning with Linc.

“It was a natural mistake,” he soothed.

“You don’t have to spin it for me,” she said, surprising him by recognizing what he was doing. “Let’s tell the truth. I made an idiot out of myself by not asking what was the nature of your business the minute you arrived.”

“You were trying to spare me humiliation. You thought I had been playing around with some Viagra kind of thing and got myself into trouble.”

“You’re too smooth for my own good,” she said. “You ought to come with a warning label. Something along the lines of ‘Warning—man may appear more charming than he really is.’”

“How do you know I’m not as charming as I appear?” He grinned, enjoying their sparring.

She tossed her head and her ponytail bounced pertly. “I’ve had dealings with charming men before.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

“To my detriment, I might add.”

Sebastian took a wild guess. “A charming man left you brokenhearted?”

“Something like that.” She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Anyway, I learned my lesson. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Black, I have to find my real patient.”

“The guy with the irrepressible boner?”

“Mr. Black,” she scolded, but her eyes were lively. “That’s inappropriate.”

“You’re right—” he flicked his gaze to her name tag “—Julie.”

“It’s Miss DeMarco.”

“Miss? As in not married?” His eyes drifted to the bare ring finger of her left hand. He might play the field, but as far as he knew, Sebastian had never bedded a married woman and he wasn’t about to start.

“As in none of your business. Now if you’ll get out of my way, I’d appreciate it.”

He’d pushed too far. Sebastian was smart enough to know when to back off. He stepped aside and she brushed past him on her way out the door.

The contact—their first touching—was nothing short of electrifying.

They both inhaled audibly in a simultaneous breath. She stopped in midstride and their gazes seared again. He felt like a pistol. Hot, cocked and loaded.

She was right. He was inappropriate.

“Look,” he said, “we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we start all over?” He thrust out a hand. “Hello, I’m Sebastian Black.”

She hesitated and just when he decided she wasn’t about to take his hand, she reached out. “Julie DeMarco.”

He grasped her soft palm and she squeezed lightly. His entire arm tingled and he experienced a hot rush of sexual energy surge through every cell in his body and the hairs on the nape of his neck rose to attention.

The sight of their clasped hands riveted him. Her creamy skin was much lighter than his. She was all soft and smooth. He was hard and rough. The contrast in their two hands would have made one hell of a photo. Man, woman. Strength, delicacy. Tanned, pale. United.

A familiar rush of adrenaline. The thrill of the chase. Outside in the hallway, in the silence of his indrawn breath, Sebastian could hear a cart being pushed, wheels squeaking, in need of oil. In that moment Sebastian understood that one way or the other, he was going to take this woman to bed.

“Pleased to meet you, Julie DeMarco.”

And then he had a brilliant idea that would effectively kill two birds with one stone. A solution that could help him solve Confidential Rejuvenations’ image problem, plus get him closer to the appealing Miss DeMarco. The technique had served him well on many campaigns.

“Listen,” he said, “I need your help.”

“My help?”

She looked so cute with her brow furrowed and her bottom lip tucked up between her teeth. Good thing she was no longer investigating the zipper of his pants. She’d see that the Viagra abuser wasn’t the only one with a boner.

“I need an insider’s view.”

“An insider’s view?”

“To help me see Confidential Rejuvenations in a way only someone who works in the trenches can. I’d like to hear what you think about the recent scandals.”

“I can’t violate patient confidentiality.”

“Nor would I ever ask you to do so.” He smiled. “I’d just like to get your take.”

“Why me?”

“I need input from several sources, not just the bigwigs in the expensive suits. Let’s be honest, they’re out of touch with what really goes on behind the scenes.”

“Bigwigs in expensive suits like you?”

“Touché.” She was feisty. He liked that. “What do you say?”

“I don’t know if that would be such a good idea.”

“Do you always work the swing shift?”

“Yes.”

“Does your shift start at three?”

“Two-thirty.”

“How ’bout this. I meet you for lunch at the sushi restaurant down the block that I saw when I was driving in.”

“Are you always this pushy, Mr. Black?”

His gaze held hers. “Only when I see something I want.”

She made a small noise in the back of her throat and gave him a cool, assessing glance. He noticed the pulse at the hollow of her neck quickened. Ah, just as he suspected. She liked him, whether she was willing to admit it or not.

“So it’s a date,” he said as a statement, not a question, but his gut squeezed.

Julie pursed her lips, her frown deepening.

She’s going to say no. His hopes took the express elevator to his shoes.

What in the hell was the matter with him? Why was he so disappointed at the thought she’d reject him? He hadn’t felt this nervous around a woman in years. Blame his aberrant anxiety on the fact his brother had dropped the marriage bomb on him that morning and he was off his game.