no.” Stray pale blonde tendrils loosened from her upswept hair danced at her almost violent headshake. “I’d rather not go than go dateless.”
“Then don’t go. Problem solved. No one says you have to go to your high school reunion.”
Although he had meant to, he hadn’t gone to his. Darby had been sick with the flu and he’d covered for her at the hospital instead. No big deal, since he’d moved so often he’d never gotten particularly attached to any of the numerous private prep schools he’d attended.
She let out an exasperated sound. “It’s not that simple. Besides, you owe—”
“Yes, I know,” he conceded. “I owe you for bailing me out last month, when it was my turn to be on call and I wanted to go out of town.” A weekend that had ended in disaster when his then girlfriend had got wedding bells on her brain. He liked his life as it was and had no intention of marrying. For one reason or another, marriages didn’t seem to work in his family. Besides, he was enjoying bachelorhood too much for that.
“So you have to go to your reunion.” He dropped the invitation back onto his desk. “Why the ‘in love’ stuff?”
“Mandy Coulson.” Darby’s agitation tripled. Quadrupled.
Blake’s curiosity grew accordingly. Even when under intense pressure, Darby rarely lost her cool. God, he’d loved to watch her work when they’d been in residency—still did. Calm, cool, in control. Today she was hot under the collar, sweating like any normal person, and not because of his teasing. No, although Blake had thought he knew better than anyone how to get a rise out of his pretty little partner, apparently this Mandy person and a high school reunion had him beat.
He didn’t see what the big deal was, but he was intrigued as to why Darby did.
“And Mandy is…?” He stretched his hand out in question. “Who?”
“Every shy kid’s worst nightmare.” The words hissed from Darby’s pursed lips like air escaping a rapidly deflating balloon.
Interesting. He had a hard time imagining the confident young woman he knew as shy. Ever.
This trip might prove to be educational.
He tossed the invitation on his desk and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Okay, darling, I’ll be your boy toy.”
Boy toy? As if. Darby rolled her eyes before meeting her partner’s black-as-sin gaze. As attractive as she found Blake, the man went through women as if he were competing for a world record. That didn’t mean she wasn’t crazy about him—just that she knew better than to feed his oversized ego.
“Keep that up and you’ll leave me no choice but to call Rodney,” she threatened, knowing Blake had never liked her recent attempt at dating. “If I pander to his ego a little—” a lot “—and tell him how rotten you are—” Rodney had been jealous of the “Italian Stallion”, Rodney’s label for Blake, not Darby’s “—he’s sure to go with me.”
Although they’d only gone out for a couple of months, he was still calling her, trying to convince her they could make things work if only she’d have sex with him. Yeah, right. Not during this lifetime.
There was only one man she wanted to sleep with, and he had no clue that was how she felt.
“The hell you say,” Blake growled. “He was the most suspicious man I’ve ever met—dropping by here all hours of the night.” His strong jaw clenched, emphasizing the slight cleft in his chin. “What did he expect? To catch me with my pants down?”
For the first time since she’d stormed into his office her lips twitched. “Actually, that is what he expected.”
And then some. She hadn’t been able to convince Rodney that Blake was nothing more than her business partner. Maybe because from the time they’d met she’d hoped Blake would see her for more than her brain and medical skills. After four years of his treating her much as one of her brothers did, she’d decided she didn’t register on Blake’s female radar. Just as well. None of the women he was interested in ever lasted long. Blake’s love-life consisted of a revolving door and multiple women. She wanted him forever, not just for a few weekends.
So she’d waited, hoped, become more and more frustrated.
“He thought you were getting lucky.” Since Rodney hadn’t been getting lucky, he’d automatically assumed Blake, being the only other man in her life, must be. Men.
Blake waggled his brows again. “Well, you can’t blame the guy for thinking I’d get lucky. I am irresistible.”
“And so modest, too.” She snorted at his mock-innocent expression. “Luck has nothing to do with how you get women.”
His lips twitched. “Enlighten me. How do I get women?”
Any way he wanted them.
“With that jet-black hair and those dark-as-midnight eyes you don’t have to get women, they get you.” The laughter in those black eyes had her feet wanting to shift—or run for the closest exit. How had the conversation even taken this turn? Her face grew hot and her skin clammy.
“At least, women try to get you,” she rushed on, hoping he didn’t notice how uncomfortable talking about his love-life made her. “You’re oblivious to most, yet they keep chasing you. So, like I said, you don’t have to get women, they get you.”
“And, like I said—” he rocked back in his chair and blatantly eyed her with amusement“—I’m irresistible.”
Dimples cut into his cheeks, making her think perhaps he was right. Certainly she’d always wanted him. Then again, with so little experience when it came to men, how could she be expected not to fall for someone so skilled in the ways of the opposite sex?
Because if Blake’s love-life was a revolving door, Darby’s was a vault that had rusted shut long ago from lack of use.
“For example,” he continued, “I was recently propositioned to spend the weekend with a beautiful woman.” His black eyes twinkled. “I even get to pretend to be in love with her. How much luckier can a guy get?”
Picking up a spongy ball—a stress-reliever advertising a pharmaceutical firm—she tossed it at him. “I wouldn’t count on getting lucky that particular weekend if I were you. You’re not that irresistible.”
At least not that she’d ever admit. But if she thought there was the slightest chance Blake could love her, she’d throw caution to the wind and make him notice she was a woman the weekend of the reunion.
He caught the stress ball with ease. “Come to think of it, my luck’s never been that good. Just look at the last female who found me.” He cringed with revulsion and gave an exaggerated shudder.
Darby bit back a smile.
So the foolish physical therapist he’d been dating on and off for a few months had thought Blake was taking her out of town to pop the question. Instead, the Yankees had been in Atlanta, and a friend had given him Braves tickets. Blake’s proposal had consisted of, “Do you want mustard or ketchup on your hot dog?” When the game had
