the real hero of the moment has arrived, why don’t I leave you to introduce yourselves? Maybe Connor can ask Dr. Sullivan for a date. I hear he’s—”
“Already got a date with you, Dr. Meredith,” his deep voice interrupted smoothly, sending goose bumps skittering across her flesh. Her eyes widened. Oh, heck, no, she thought with a gasp of dismay. Absolutely no getting all worked up over some rich guy playing a badass biker dude. Especially not a guy with the kind of look in his eyes that tempted women to sin.
He stepped into the room, abruptly dominating the space and sucking out all the air with a much more potent cocktail of testosterone and pheromones. But, then, he was a full-grown adult male who’d had years to perfect the recipe. Oh, boy.
His disturbing green gaze held hers for a couple of moments too long for comfort and his mouth curled—as though he was picturing her in her underwear. Jerk.
Lilah’s face heated and she nervously licked her lips, which caused his eyes to darken instantly.
“Oh, I’m sure the guys will make much better dates than me,” she said, cursing the alarming way her breath hitched and her knees wobbled as she moved towards the door. She paused and bit her lip when he made no move step aside. Her eyes narrowed. He was huge, darn it, and surrounded by masculine heat and energy that was way too appealing for comfort.
Couldn’t he have waited for her to leave before arriving like a hot avenging angel of doom?
His hooded gaze swept over her face to her mouth before dropping to take in the rest of her body as though she was still wearing nothing but scraps of wet underwear. “I sincerely doubt that, Doctor,” he drawled, drawing snickers from the group behind her. His mouth curled into a slow grin as sinful as the gaze that rose to hers. “I’ll just keep my date with you.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, Dr. Sullivan,” Lilah said smoothly, and was forced to brush past his big body on her way out the door. A chorus of whistles and whoops followed her down the passage and she heard him say, “No offence, Connor.”
A burst of laughter nearly drowned out Connor’s reply. “None taken, dude,” was followed by, “You lucky dog,” before she was finally out of earshot.
Face burning, Lilah opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator to the ground floor. She hoped by the time she reached the lobby she could blame her pounding pulse and ragged breathing on jogging down five flights of stairs.
She hit the ground floor and moved across the huge foyer, nodding to a group of ER nurses, who grinned and exchanged knowing looks when they saw her.
Idly wondering what that was all about, she searched through her shoulder bag for her keys, looking up when someone called her name.
Two women who’d been at the bachelorette party the night before, approached. Kim Howard held aloft a folded daily newspaper. “Have you seen the tabloids?” Lilah frowned and shook her head wondering why she should be interested in the tabloids.
“You should take a look, girl,” Mandy Morgan advised her. “They’re calling you Wild Woman and speculating about which underwear house you’re moonlighting for.”
Lilah felt her mouth drop open. “Wha-what?”
Kim snapped open the newspaper and flipped it around so Lilah could see the headlines and color picture dominating the front page.
A loud buzzing noise filled Lilah’s ears and she thought she might faint. Beneath the headline “Wild Woman to the Rescue” was a picture of her diving off the pier. If she hadn’t been so horrified to see herself on the front page—in her underwear—she might have admired the almost perfect execution of the dive. As it was, her cheeks felt numb and her fingertips tingled as though she was about to pass out.
She grabbed the paper. “Oh, my God,” she whimpered, too shocked to do anything but gape at the large color pic.
“There’s more on page three.” Kim bumped her shoulder sympathetically and Lilah turned the page with shaking hands. She gasped when she saw a grainy picture showing her stripping off her dress in full view of an entire waterfront packed with people. There were others too: of her stepping from the boat onto the pier; giving Trent what appeared to be a passionate kiss; and a close-up of her and Luke Sullivan sharing an eye-lock. The caption read “Wild Woman and Dr. Oh-So-Dishy share a scorching hot look.”
Yikes.
She looked naked. She felt exposed and … and horrified. How could this happen? It was like she was back in high school and someone posted an embarrassing photograph of her on the bulletin board. Only worse. Because now everyone in Spruce Ridge could gawk at her in her underwear.
There was a pic of Luke in his wet boxer briefs looking buff and hunky. It was practically X-rated and Lilah could easily imagine thousands of women across the city drooling over him as they enjoyed their morning coffee.
“Where …?” She swallowed the hot lump of mortification that had settled in her throat and tried again. “Where the heck did these come from?” she rasped.
Kim’s sideways glance was sympathetic. “Cellphones probably.”
“Cellphones?” Lilah turned and gaped at her. “People were filming me with cellphones instead of doing something to help?” She knew she was getting a little hysterical and a lot outraged, but she felt outraged. “Two young people could have died while they whipped out their cellphones and caught it on video?”
Kim shrugged as if to say, Yeah, go figure and said, “Yay for teenagers and their technology. They must have made a fortune selling them to the tabloids.”
Lilah’s eyes dropped to the close-up of her and Luke Sullivan and felt her face go hot. That simmering instant of connection had been caught for all eternity by some pimply faced adolescent. “This is a nightmare.” Kim studied the picture and Lilah felt the other woman’s sideways look. “What?”
“It looks kind of hot. Like a freeze-frame from a movie where the romantic leads share a sexy moment.”
Lilah groaned and covered her face.
“It gets worse,” Mandy said, and squeezed Lilah’s shoulder in silent support.
“How can anything be worse than this?”
“Easy,” Kim said with a snicker. “You’ve gone viral.”
Luke approached the church and took the stone stairs to the open wooden doors. A wedding was the last place he wanted to be. He’d rather be caught in hostile territory without a weapon. But, last night, after he’d helped pour a wasted Greg into a taxi, he’d made a solemn promise that he’d be here.
He nodded to the guests gathered at the entrance and slipped his aviator shades into the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d had to buy a new suit, but considering the last one he’d owned was about nineteen years old he’d thought he was probably due for a new one. Especially if he was contemplating civilian life.
He might hate weddings and all they entailed but even he knew he couldn’t arrive dressed in black leather. Other than a duffle bag full of army fatigues, jeans and tees, leather was all he had in his meager wardrobe. And owning one suit didn’t mean he was turning out to be like his mother’s husbands.
