The Celebrity Doctor's Proposal (12 page)

‘Much as I love the hot pink dress…' his strong hands slid the straps down her arms ‘…it's going to have to come off, Riggs.'

The feel of his fingers on her bare flesh made her shiver. ‘Maybe we should go upstairs.' Her head tilted back and her eyes closed as he kissed his way down her neck.

‘Never make it that far.'

She felt the zip go on her dress and hot pink silk pooled at her feet. ‘Sam…'

He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the glass-fronted living room, refusing to let her finish her sentence. ‘Let yourself go, Anna.'

And she did.

She felt herself heat and melt under the touch of his hands, for once in her life relishing the fact that someone else was taking charge.

He laid her on the thick rug, his powerful body over hers, his hands peeling away her skimpy underwear with an impatience that made her gasp.

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt but her hands were shaking too much to complete the task and she muttered something incoherent and yanked at the fabric, sending buttons flying.

His mouth was greedy on hers and he moved his
shoulders and freed himself of his shirt, his breathing ragged as his hair-roughened chest made contact with the soft mounds of her breasts. The rest of his clothes followed and their bodies tangled and locked as they moved with an erotic desperation driven by a torment of need.

And then he drove himself into her. Hard and fast, he gave them what they both needed, any notion of control abandoned from the moment they'd entered the house. Dazed and desperate, she wrapped her legs around his slick skin and moved with him, wild excitement consuming every inch of her as he hurled her to the outer reaches of pleasure. She cried out and curled her nails into his back, held on and closed her eyes as she hurtled skyward in an orgasm so intense that for a moment she lost all grip on reality.

‘Anna…' He said her name harshly, fisted his hand in her hair, and her eyes flew open and locked with his. And then she felt him shudder, saw the sweat sheen on his brow and felt the hot pulse of his own release as his body pumped into hers.

She lay under him without speaking, wishing they could stay like that for ever, locked together, breathless and slick with their own passion.

Eventually he raised himself off her just enough to speak. ‘Sorry.' His voice was hoarse. ‘I think I forgot the foreplay.'

She chuckled, loving the weight of him on top of her. He had an amazing body. He was an amazing lover. ‘I think the last few weeks have been nothing but foreplay.'

‘You could have a point.'

‘I hope the cameras weren't running, Dr McKenna.' She stretched underneath him, lazy and satisfied as a cat. ‘You just gave a very interesting lecture to the general public on the dangers of getting carried away after parties. Of not using contraception.'

He stilled. ‘Oops.'

‘Yes, oops,' she agreed softly, her hand sliding over his back. ‘Don't worry. I'm safe. Let's just hope none of the teenagers out there were watching your performance.'

He gave a lazy grin and touched his mouth to hers, his voice husky. ‘Something wrong with my performance, Riggs?'

‘I'm not sure.' She was breathless. ‘I might need to evaluate it a second time. And maybe a third…'

He lifted his head further still and his lips brushed hers. Her response was instantaneous and she felt his body come alive inside her as the kiss intensified.

‘I love your body.' His tongue licked into the corners of her mouth and then he withdrew from her and slid lower, breathing heat and fire over her burning skin, exploring and tasting until his mouth hovered over one nipple.

She felt the warmth of his breath and arched towards him but he held himself slightly away from her, feasting with smouldering eyes, his fingers sliding down the smooth skin of her thigh.

After the frantic, wild lovemaking session that they'd both enjoyed, this time he was taking his time.

‘Sam…' She couldn't breathe, needed him so
badly that every feminine part of her ached. ‘Sam, please…'

His tongue flickered over her nipple and she cried out, pressing closer, her whole body quivering and shifting beneath his lean, powerful frame. Her hand slid over the bunched muscle of his shoulders and she wondered how it was possible to still want him so desperately when the most intimate part of her body still throbbed from the force of his possession.

It was impossible not to keep touching him as he was touching her, and she slid her fingers through his dark hair, loving the silkiness, the softness of it. The contrast to the hard masculinity of his body. She kissed his neck, his shoulder. Cried out as she felt his fingers touch her intimately.

She didn't understand the hunger inside her, the burning fire that didn't seem to want to be quenched. Her fingers curled round the heat of his arousal and she heard his groan, felt his body shift in response to her touch.

‘Are you all right here?' His voice was gruff. ‘Do you want to go upstairs?'

She slid one thigh over his. ‘I'm not capable of moving.'

‘Good point.' He lowered his mouth to hers. ‘We'll just stay here, then. You drive me wild, Riggs. Crazy.'

‘McKenna.' She slid her other thigh over his and arched against him. ‘Can you stop talking and do something about the way I'm feeling?'

His chuckle was low and sexy. ‘It will be my pleasure.'

A
NNA
beamed at the woman sitting across from her. ‘It's so good to see you, Hilda. What can I do for you?'

Hilda looked at her curiously. ‘I just wanted to ask you about this bite on my leg. It doesn't seem to want to heal.'

‘Then let's take a look at it.' Anna stood up and walked round her desk, her step light. ‘How long have you had it?'

‘A few weeks. But it's getting worse.' Hilda stuck out the offending limb, allowing Anna to examine the calf. ‘You look well, Dr Riggs. A lot more relaxed than when I last saw you.'

‘I'm feeling great, Hilda.' Anna frowned at the leg. ‘I don't think this is a bite. I think it's probably a flare-up of your eczema. Have you been scratching it?'

‘Eczema?' Hilda stared down at her leg in surprise. ‘Well, yes, I have been scratching it. It's been driving me mad. I assumed it was a bite.'

‘Have you been very stressed?'

‘It's the summer,' Hilda reminded her dryly, watching as she walked to the sink and washed her hands, ‘it's my busiest time. There's a queue outside my door in the morning when I open and it stays
there until I close and my counters are stripped bare of food. It's like exposing yourself to an attack of locusts. I've never known people eat so much.'

Anna laughed and sat back down at her desk. ‘Well, I think that the locusts have made your eczema worse.' She tapped the keyboard. ‘I'm giving you a prescription for cream to rub in that patch, and make sure you keep up your emollient baths.'

Hilda sighed. ‘I'm so tired by the end of the day that if I stepped into a bath I'd probably drown.'

‘It will relax you.' Anna handed her the prescription and Hilda pulled a face.

‘I daren't relax. If I relax, who's going to cook for tomorrow? I just need to keep this up until the end of the summer. It isn't long now.'

Not long now.

The happiness left Anna like air from a popped balloon.

Once summer ended the tourists would be gone. And so would Sam.

The past two weeks had been idyllic. At work they were very discreet, communicating on a totally professional level, but the moment they stepped through the doors of the house they were lovers. Crazy, wild, self-absorbed lovers. And up until now she'd been so totally caught up in the madness of the present that she hadn't allowed herself to think about the future.

But the future was on her doorstep.

‘You and Dr McKenna have done a good job here this summer,' Hilda said, taking the prescription and
tucking it safely in her bag. ‘Been just what the village needed. It was time for young blood in the practice and Sam's just the man.'

‘Sam's just temporary,' Anna said briskly, reaching for some papers on her desk and trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘He was only ever temporary.'

Only somehow, over the past few weeks, she'd allowed herself to forget that. She'd lived so much for the moment that she hadn't realised that tomorrow had arrived.

Hilda looked at her. ‘He's a local lad. This is his home and this is where he should be. You know it and I know it.' She sniffed and rose to her feet, her bag clasped in her hand. ‘And sooner or later Sam McKenna will work that out, too. He wanted to spread his wings and he's done that. It's time for him to stop messing around. If you want to drop by later, I've got the most delicious seafood lasagne. I'll put a couple of portions aside for you. And a lemon tart.'

‘Thanks, Hilda. Without you I would undoubtedly starve.' Anna stood up and walked to the door with her. ‘I'll pop by on my way home.'

She watched Hilda go and then closed the door firmly.

In a daze, she walked back to her desk and sank into her chair.

How could it have happened?

How could she have been so stupid?

She'd fallen in love with Sam. Completely and utterly.

And it wasn't supposed to be that way. They didn't like each other. They clashed terribly. They disagreed on everything. They…

She ran a hand over her face and groaned.
They were perfect together.

So now what?

She stared out of the window, across the harbour to the estuary and the sea beyond. Hilda was wrong about Sam. He wouldn't be staying. Not once the summer was over. They hadn't talked about it yet, but both of them knew he'd be going soon. Back to his life in London.

And she couldn't blame him for that. He'd never pretended that their relationship was anything other than physical. It was her that had broken the rules. Broken the rules by falling in love.

So now what did she do? She obviously couldn't ever tell him, so what did she do? Did she end it?

She watched the boats bobbing in the harbour, the wind catching the flags on the masts, and knew that she couldn't do that.

She wanted to make the most of every minute.

She'd enjoy the relationship until it was time for him to move on.

And then she'd let him go without ever telling him how she really felt.

And spend the rest of her life trying to get over him.

 

He was going to tell her.

Sam stowed the surfboard in the outhouse and
locked the door. Tonight he was going to tell Anna that he was in love with her.

He was convinced she felt something, too. She had to.

Feeling nervous for the first time in his thirty-two years, he showered and changed and then strolled into the kitchen. It had become their routine. He cooked for both of them, sometimes from scratch, sometimes just reheating a delicacy from Hilda's kitchen.

He opened the fridge and found a seafood lasagne. ‘Thank you, Hilda,' he murmured, sliding it into the oven and then grabbing a beer from the fridge.

He could see Anna already sitting on the deck, her slim brown legs stretched in front of her, a medical journal open on her lap. She had a glass in her hand and her mobile phone was on the table in front of her.

He felt something shift inside him.

Who would have thought it?

Who would ever have thought that the two of them would develop this amazing connection?

He walked out onto the deck and bent to kiss her mouth. He couldn't resist it. All day he ached to do just that and had to hold himself in check. He didn't see why he should have to when they were at home.

She pulled away from him, dropped the medical journal and reached for her glass. ‘You're late. Problems?'

‘Just enjoying the surf.' He smiled and sprawled in a chair next to her. ‘How was your day?'

‘Fine.' She shot him a bright smile and Sam frowned slightly, sensing that something was wrong. She was different tonight. Brittle.

‘Has something happened?'

Her eyes flew to his, startled. ‘What could have happened?'

He was now convinced that something had. ‘I don't know.' He kept his voice casual. ‘It's just that you're a little jumpy.'

Her eyes slid away from his. ‘I'm fine. Just hungry, I expect.'

She was lying.

Sam watched her for a minute and then rose to his feet. ‘All right—let's eat.' If she was using hunger as an excuse, he'd get rid of that and then see what happened.

He served the lasagne, handed her a bowl of salad and topped up her wine.

‘Eat.'

She picked up her fork and poked at the food. ‘Thanks. Looks good. Hilda was in today, having trouble with her eczema. All those tourists are stressing her out.' She chattered away, always keeping the subject neutral, always avoiding eye contact.

And she hardly touched her food. She moved it around her plate, shifted its position and worried it with her fork. But hardly any made it to her mouth.

Sam started to eat. ‘This is fantastic. I tell you, if she wasn't already married, I'd marry Hilda.' He loaded his fork. ‘The woman is a magician in the kitchen.'

Anna put her fork down with a clatter and Sam paused, wondering what he'd said to upset her.

He frowned. If he'd upset her, he wished she'd just yell at him. At least he'd know where he stood then. ‘You're not eating. What's wrong?' He reached across the table and took her hand.

She jerked it away and Sam let out a breath. ‘Are you tired?'

They'd been up for most of the night making love so he wouldn't blame her if she was tired.

She chewed her lip and for a moment he thought she looked…stricken? He frowned. Why would she look stricken? ‘Has something happened? Have you had bad news?'

‘A bit.' She gave him a smile but it wasn't very convincing. ‘Your dad called me this afternoon.'

‘And?'

‘And you were right. He's decided to retire. He's going to ring you, obviously, but he said as I was his partner, he owed it to me to tell me first. They're going to spend their winters in Switzerland and their summers here.' She picked up the fork and then gave up the pretence of eating and put it straight down again. ‘As I said, you were right.'

Sam struggled with disappointment. For a wild moment he'd kidded himself that she looked so down because she was in love with him and trying to work out how to tell him. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong. She was worrying about her work. Her future.

Deflated, he suddenly felt angry. He wanted her to
suffer as he was suffering and clearly she wasn't. He scowled. ‘You knew that would happen.'

She looked at him, startled, and he realised that his tone had probably been a little too sharp in the circumstances, but he was chewed up inside and she hadn't even
noticed
.

‘Now you're the one in the funny mood.' She tilted her head to one side and studied him and he shifted uncomfortably.

Would she see? Was it written all over his face?

He didn't dare risk it. He didn't know if he could hide his feelings because he'd never had those feelings for anyone before, let alone had to hide them.

He stood up. ‘I'll get pudding.'

She stared at the heaped plates. ‘We haven't finished the lasagne.'

‘Do you want more?'

She shook her head. ‘No. I don't feel like it. Perhaps it's just too hot to eat.'

‘I'll make coffee.'

He clattered around in the kitchen, venting his temper on the plates. She hadn't even mentioned him leaving. It obviously didn't bother her at all.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.

How many times had he had relationships which he'd ended without a second thought, knowing that the woman in question was becoming too involved? And now here he was in that very same situation himself. He was in love with a woman who had no interest in a relationship with him. She was thinking about the practice.

‘I've been thinking.' She stood in the doorway, her white strap top showing smooth brown arms and a tempting amount of cleavage. ‘Would you help me interview for the new partner?'

He dropped the plate he was holding. ‘Sorry. Clumsy.' He stooped and carefully picked up the shattered remains of the plate.

‘It's just that you'll be going soon,' she said casually, still leaning against the door-frame, ‘and I want to get a new partner as soon as possible.'

Of course she did. Anna the planner.

She couldn't wait to get rid of him.

He dropped the pieces into the bin and looked at her, his face blank of expression. ‘If you place the advert, I'll help you interview.'

She smiled brightly. ‘Great. We need to choose really carefully. Make sure the person is going to be happy living in such a small community. Probably have to be someone who loves the sea.'

Sam felt as though she'd punched him.

She didn't want him.

Fine.

He'd just have to learn to live without her.

 

She didn't know what was the matter with Sam but he was permanently in a foul mood.

And she was gutted that he hadn't offered to stay when she'd talked about interviewing a partner.

Which was utterly ridiculous, she told herself firmly, because she'd always known that he wouldn't stay. His life was in London. Why should he change
his whole life just because of a little hot sex? She should have known better.

She sifted through the applications, disappointed that there were so many good doctors interested in joining her in the practice. If there'd been no one, Sam would have been forced to stay.

No, he wouldn't, she told herself crossly, he just would have found her another locum.

His new series was due to start filming in London at the end of September and she knew that he and Polly had already had several meetings about the content of the series. There was no question of him staying.

 

‘This guy's perfect. He interviewed the best and he has all the right experience.'

‘He'll leave after five minutes.'

She looked at him in exasperation. ‘What is going on, McKenna? We've had a really high quality of applicants. Fantastic doctors. And you've rejected the lot of them.'

Sam toyed with his pen, a dangerous look in his eyes. ‘This was my father's practice. I care about who takes it over.'

‘But you don't care enough to do the job yourself,' Anna snapped, and then caught herself. She'd been trying not to quarrel with him. ‘All right. What's wrong with this guy?'

The gleam in Sam's eye intensified. ‘I didn't like him.'

‘Well, I liked him a lot.'

For some reason that seemed to anger him even more. ‘Your judgement is faulty.'

‘OK, I've just about had enough of this!' She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?'

He glared back. ‘Nothing's wrong with me.'

‘That's rubbish.' Temper blurred her vision. ‘Whatever I do, you yell at me! You're crabby and irritable and generally bad-tempered.'

He scowled at her. ‘I am not bad-tempered.'