Page 2 of Blue Collar Billionaire

Getting this place warm is my priority. And for that, I need Danny Colton.

Damn it.

As it always does, the number sixty-nine confronts me as I shuffle to Danny’s door. I guess it’s not his fault – this is Bob’s place, after all – and somebody has to be apartment sixty-nine. But it figures the guy who looks like he knows all the sexual positions in the Kama Sutra, and probably a few that aren’t, would end up here.

Muffled music leaks around the door, and for some reason it pisses me off. I’m tired and freezing my ass off, and he’s havinga… house party. The thought he might be entertaining someone in there makes me even more irritated.

I never get the chance to entertain. At twenty-seven, I have several years to go before I become an attending. I work eighty-hour weeks and study whatever hours are left. I barely have time to eat and sleep, and forget about anything recreational like shopping and reading and seeing my parents. I barely maintain friendships past people I work with.

Relationships? Sex? Pfft. I can’t remember the last time I had sex.

Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I was in the mood for sex. I’m bankrupt on time and drowning in student loan debt – there’s nothing groovy-sexy-times about that.

My crankiness dials up another notch.

Slipping my hand out from under all my layers, I knock on the door. The cool kiss of air on my fingers makes me grateful for the snugness of the duvet. The tip of my nose is cold, and I don’t have to look at it to know it’s red. The door remains stubbornly closed, and I grit my teeth and pound my fist against the wood.

A beat passes. Then another. The door opens on a waft of warm air and Bruce Springsteen, and I’m looking up into eyes as warm and blue as tropical waters. Suddenly, my vagina – yeah, I call body parts by their proper names; it’s a doctor thing – remembers exactly how long it’s been since it’s seen any action.

Seven months, twenty-two days. And it wasn’t very good.

I came home after to finish the job. The guy – a travelling medical rep – really could have done with reading an anatomy textbook or two. Not that familiarity with anatomy had helped my long-ago ex who had been studying to be a surgeon.

Danny’s laugh interrupts my walk down crappy-sex lane. Deep dimples bracket either side of his mouth as his eyes take a tour of my Rudolph-nosed, Yeti-like appearance. I hunch intothe duvet a little more, feeling about as attractive as the dirty slush that’s churned up by snow ploughs.

He, on the other hand, glows with warmth and vitality and sex appeal, stretching the shoulder seams of his T-shirt. Green and black tattoos with splashes of colour cling to his biceps, and wings of some description flare either side of his neck. Soft denim hugs low on his hips and cups every single thing south. His dirty blond hair is a little on the shaggy side, as is his jaw stubble. He’s a tropical mirage, and I want to reach out and touch him just to see if he really does exist.

His tour of my bulky form complete, he shoves his shoulder against the doorjamb and lazily raises an eyebrow. If the man was any more laid back, he’d be horizontal.

‘Dr Vincent.’

Danny saysdoctorthe way most men saybaby. It’s hot enough to make every single thing I have on at the moment mentally fall off my body in anticipation. I can only imagine how many groupies he must have. I bet my medical degree the people who’ve been with this man never have to go home and finish the job.

My crankiness reaches boiling point. ‘My heat isn’t working.’

His gaze flicks up and down my body again, his mouth quirking sexily. ‘I figured.’

I blink. Is that it? He figured? Did he think I was standing here dressed like the Abominable Snowman just to inform him of my current heating situation? Or lack of, as the case may be. A nerve jumps under my left eye, and I quell the urge to still it with my finger.

‘Look… I’m tired. I’ve worked all night and I’d like to go to sleep now but, in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a blizzard happening out there, and my apartment is freezing, and I have no desire to die of hypothermia in my sleep.’

He grins, flashing those dimples one more time. He actually grins. ‘You doctors.’ He shakes his head and makes a tsking sound. ‘Always with the big words.’

My nipples love that tsking sound. They’re under a billion layers of clothing and bedding, yet still, they perk right on up as if his lips have tsked directly against them.

Traitors.

Annoyed at this development, I cross my arms. Not that Danny can possibly see their reaction to his teasing, but I haven’t entirely ruled out the prospect that the man has been gifted with X-ray vision along with his many other attributes.

Either way, my erect nipples are none of his business.

I smile sweetly. ‘I’ll try to keep my words to one syllable in future.’

Not remotely insulted, the smile hovers on his lips. ‘It’ll probably be an easy fix.’ He pushes off the doorjamb. ‘Come in.’

Ordinarily, I would have stayed on his doorstep. A smart woman like me knows to keep the hell away from temptation, and Danny Colton is temptation wrapped up in glittery paper and tied in a big red bow. But it’s warm in there and the corridor is cold, and I’m too tired to fight biology.

I take a step into his apartment. It’s toasty, but I barely register it, bracing myself instead for the urge to strip off my clothes and demand that Danny do me – which in all honesty is my main concern about crossing his threshold. When it doesn’t happen, I relax. When I realise he’s disappeared somewhere, I relax a little more.