when Dr Brookes and his family check in, please?’
The girl nodded. ‘Certainly, Dr Coates-Clark.’
‘I’ll be in the banquet room,’ Olivia told the girl needlessly. The hotel staff had her cell number, but right now she wasn’t doing so well on remembering anything she should. Better get a grip before the evening got under way.
Zac shrugged those impressive shoulders that she’d kissed many times. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’
‘Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’m getting everything sorted.’ As much as having someone to help her would be a benefit, Zac would probably get her into a bigger pickle just by being in the same room. Turning on her heel, Olivia headed to the elevator that’d take her up to the room where tonight’s dinner, auction, and dance would be held. The evening was due to get under way in a little over three hours and she wanted to check that everything was in place and see if the flowers had finally arrived. Something about bad weather causing a shortage of flowers at the markets that morning had been the harried florist’s excuse. But bad weather didn’t explain why the place name cards were yet to arrive from the copy centre.
Unbelievable how she’d softened on the inside when she’d first looked at Zac, despite the heat and turmoil he instantly ramped up within her. Like she’d missed him. But she hadn’t known Zac beyond work and bed so not a lot to miss apart from that mind-blowing sex. Odd she felt there was more to him she wanted to learn about when she hadn’t been interested before. Not interested? Of course she had been. That’s what had frightened her into ending the affair.
A large palm pressed the button to summon the elevator. ‘It’s out there on the surgeons’ loop that you need some help with running the auction tonight. I’m stepping up. Starting now.’ Zac looked down his long straight nose at her, his mouth firm, his gaze determined. ‘No argument.’
Why would he want to do that? It meant being in her company for hours. She’d have sworn he would’ve planned on keeping well away from her, and that the last five minutes had been five too many in her company. ‘Thanks, but no thanks, Zac. I’ve got it covered.’ Second lie in minutes. She doubted she could spend too much time with him without dredging up all the reasons why she’d been a fool to drop him—instead of remembering why it had been a very sane move. No one was going to walk away from her ever again.
She made the mistake of looking at Zac and her tongue instantly felt too big for her mouth. Zac was so good looking, his face a work of art, designed to send any female who came near him into a lather. Including her. Olivia closed her eyes briefly, but his face followed her, seared on the insides of her eyelids. Zachary Wright. If ever there was a man she might fall for, it was Zac. That was a big ‘if’. Painful lessons growing up were a harsh reminder that there was only one person who’d look out for her—herself.
But one touch and Zac had always been able to do anything he liked with her. Not that he’d taken advantage in a bad way. He wasn’t that kind of man. See? She did know something about him. Hopefully he hadn’t known how close she’d come to being totally his, as in willing to do absolutely anything to keep him.
‘You all right?’ He touched her upper arm, and despite her layers of clothing the heat she associated with him shot through her, consumed her.
‘F-fine,’ was all Olivia could manage as she stared at him, pushing down hard on the urge to touch him back, to run her hand over his cheek, and to feel that stubble beginning to darken his chin.
Taking her elbow, Zac propelled her forward, into the elevator. ‘Third floor?’
‘Yes,’ she croaked. Go away, leave me alone, take your sexy body and those eyes that were always my undoing, and take a flying leap off a tall building. I don’t need this heat and need crawling along my veins. Go away.
‘I’m not going anywhere for the rest of the day, so get used to the idea, Olivia.’
Ouch. Had she said that out loud? What else had she put out there? One glance at him and she relaxed. He hadn’t heard anything about jumping off a building. But she couldn’t relax fully until tonight was put to bed.
Olivia groaned. ‘Bed’ was so not a safe word when she was around this man. It brought all sorts of images screaming into her head. Images she refused to see or acknowledge. They were her past, not her future. Or her present.
WHO’S TAKEN ALL the air out of this box? Zac stared around the elevator car, looking for a culprit. His eyes latched onto Olivia. He had his answer. It was her fault he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep his heart beating in a normal, steady rhythm. Olivia Coates-Clark. CC for short. CC was short. Delicate looking—not delicate of mind. Tiny, yet big on personality. Filled out in all the right places—as he well knew. Fiery when pushed too far, sweet when everything was going her way. An itch.
An itch he would never scratch again. He absolutely had to ignore it.
She’d dumped him. Hard and fast. Slapped at his pride. He did the leaving, when he was good and ready, not the other way round. He should’ve been grateful, was grateful. Having more than his usual three or four dates with Olivia had got him starting to look out for her. On the rare unguarded moments when something like deep pain had crept into her gaze he’d wanted to protect her; and that was plain dumb. Given his past, that made him a danger to her. He hurt people; did not protect them. He also didn’t feel like having his heart cut and cauterised again when she learned of his inadequacies. No, thanks.
Hang on. Had she found out? Was that why Olivia had pulled the plug on their affair? Because she’d found him to be flawed? No. She still looked at him as she always had—hot and hungry, not disgusted or aloof.
Breathing was impossible. Not only was Olivia using up the oxygen, she was filling the resulting vacuum with the scent of flowers and fruit and everything he remembered about her. Hell, let me out of this thing. Fast. He took a step towards the doors, stopped, glanced at the control panel. They were moving between floors. Get a hold of yourself.
Yeah, sure. This is what Olivia always did to him. Tipped him upside down with a look, sent his brain to the dump with a finger touch, and cranked up his libido so fast and high just by being in the same air as him. Exactly what was happening now. His crotch was tight, achingly tight. As was his gut. Nothing new there. Eighteen months without setting eyes on her, with only once talking on the phone about the auction, and he was back to square one. Back to lusting after her. Unbelievable. How could a grown man with a successful career as an orthopaedic surgeon, presumably an intelligent and sane man dedicated to remaining uninvolved with women, lose all control because of this one?
Olivia Coates-Clark. She was why he felt three sheets to the wind—and he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all week. He’d been too busy with scheduled surgeries and two emergencies involving major operations to have any time to enjoy a drink and take in the ever-changing view from his apartment living room. But within minutes of being with CC he felt as though he’d downed a whole bottle of whiskey. This was shaping up to be a big night in a way he didn’t need.
A phone buzzed discreetly. As nothing vibrated on his hip it had to be Olivia’s. He listened with interest as she answered, totally unabashed about eavesdropping.
‘Olivia Coates-Clark speaking.’ Her gaze scanned the ceiling as she listened to her caller. Then, ‘Thank you so much. Your efforts are really appreciated.’ Her finger
