style="font-size:15px;"> “I am.” He pulled her tighter against him. “You know, I just got a terrific idea.”
“For the next fund-raiser?” Natalie asked.
“Something a little more personal.” Angling toward her, Patrick cupped the back of her head with his hand. He scanned her face as if trying to memorize every detail, and then his mouth claimed hers.
His kiss exploded with yearning. Natalie melted against him, yielding to his tongue’s demands and savoring the sensation of being held close.
When Patrick lifted his head, she kissed the V of his collarbone. “I think I figured out your idea.”
“Do you approve?”
“Utterly,” she said.
He reached into a drawer for more protection, and then he pushed her gently down against the sheet.
NATALIE AWOKE in darkness, filled with dismay. Her subconscious mind had finally registered what they’d done, and the likelihood that it would lead to disaster.
Patrick slept on his back, with one hand resting on her shoulder. Natalie brushed her cheek against it.
She knew his hands well. They were large hands, capable of carving the air in an expansive gesture or dashing his name across a document that granted medical services to a poor woman.
And her hands? They’d served plenty of hamburgers while she made her way through high school. They’d also signed a marriage license with a man who turned out to be an alcoholic, and a few years later they’d signed the divorce papers.
Her hands had written something else, too, an entry on her job application that hadn’t been completely honest. Natalie shuddered to think that Patrick might someday find out.
Well, he wasn’t going to. She’d let matters go way too far tonight, but there was still time to run damage control.
Quietly, she rose and dressed in her tailored slacks and sailor-style blouse. With the brush from her purse, she tucked her blond hair into its accustomed bun.
It was time to go, before Patrick awoke and realized what a mistake this had been. Or, worse, failed to realize it. The better he got to know her, the more likely it became that he would discover some unpleasant truths.
There was only one course to follow. At work, Natalie would be all business, signaling Patrick to keep his distance.
They’d pretend that their going to bed together never happened. At least they could still work together, sharing the closeness they’d developed over these past five years. And she’d hang on to her pride.
But she’d discovered a passion in herself that had lain dormant all her days. Even when she was married, she’d never felt more than passing pleasure. With Patrick, only with Patrick, did she truly come alive.
It hurt to know that she might never hold him again, but that was all right. Natalie could bear it, as long as she didn’t lose him entirely.
ON MONDAY Patrick had a headache. He knew it was partly from overindulging in rum punch the previous day and partly from listening to the construction work going on downstairs.
The East Wing, which housed the administration services and the radiology department, was one of three structures that made up Doctors Circle, along with the Birthing Center and the West Wing office building. Downstairs in the East Wing, space formerly rented by an outside pediatric clinic was being converted into an infertility center.
Wham-wham-wham! went something that sounded like a pile driver, although Patrick couldn’t imagine why such heavy equipment was needed. The pounding throbbed right through his brain.
He had a lot of work to do today, catching up on paperwork and planning for the next big fund-raising event, an Oktoberfest celebration. Yesterday’s donations, while generous, paled before the amount of money needed to cushion the center against the sort of financial upheaval that had nearly swamped it a few years earlier.
Patrick fumbled in his drawer for an aspirin. No such luck. Wouldn’t you know that in a medical office the last thing you could find was a simple pain remedy?
He punched the intercom. “Nat? Could you come in here, please?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied crisply.
A moment later, Natalie entered his office. The breezy woman from the yacht had vanished. Today, her hair was pinned back and her body hidden beneath a trim navy-and-white suit with a red scarf at the throat.
Patrick peered at her blearily across his broad oak desk. At the moment, he was in no shape to try to renew their camaraderie. “I was hoping you had an aspirin,” he managed to say. “I can’t think straight.”
“Sorry. I’m not authorized to dispense medication.”
He insisted on strict rules, but not that strict. “You don’t need an M.D. to hand out aspirin.”
Natalie smiled. “That was a joke. Guess you’re not in the mood, huh? Hold on, I’ll get you some.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked. “I mean, World War III going on downstairs?”
“The assistant head of accounting and the chief radiologist came in to complain.” Clearly, they hadn’t fazed Natalie, who looked cool and collected as usual. “I reminded them that they used to beef about the noisy kids from the pediatric clinic. At least this is temporary. Hold on.”
She ducked out, leaving an image of angelic freshness imprinted on Patrick’s brain. Despite the fact that his head felt swollen to the size of a basketball, he took pleasure in his secretary’s appearance.
For years he’d tried not to notice her bright blue eyes and lively face. Especially he’d struggled to ignore the figure that, despite the cloaking effect of her tailored suits, was nothing short of delicious.
Patrick had never expected to breach the unspoken barrier between director and employee. He knew himself, and getting involved with any woman, particularly one he worked with, was a losing proposition. It also appeared that he might be taking advantage of his position, something he had no intention of doing.
Yet their lovemaking had surpassed anything in his experience. Even with a blinding headache, he was ready—well, almost ready—for a rematch, if only he could figure out what to do about his aching morals.
The door squeaked as Natalie returned with two pills and a cup of water. “Here you go.” She handed them over.
When their hands touched, an awareness of her heat and vibrancy pulsed through Patrick. Against his will, desire quickened his blood. “I feel better already.”
“You haven’t taken them yet.”
“I don’t really need to—” Wham-wham-wham! went the downstairs equipment, dispelling his objections. Up went the cup and down went the pills. “What on earth are they doing?” he asked when he could speak again.
“I think they’re chipping away some tile,” Natalie said.
Patrick should have
