Page 10 of One Reckless Night

5

JARED

Ididn’t bother hiding the way I was looking at Amelia. Why would I? She was stunning, and I wasn’t the kind of man to pretend otherwise. When I saw a work of art, I looked. Soft curves, dark hair that fell in waves over her shoulders, and a sharpness in her eyes that told me she wasn’t the type to back down from a fight. It was a dangerous combination—one that had my attention.

It was simple biology. She was exactly my type. Beautiful, intelligent, and with a mouth that could cut glass. But I wasn’t about to act on the primal instincts rampaging through me, telling me to throw her over my shoulder and run off with her like King Kong. I had self-control, discipline. No woman would ever shake that, even one as alluring as Amelia.

I’d learned my lesson about getting involved with women at work. A fling with a nurse during a conference? Sure. But a PhD-level researcher employed by my own company? That was a line I wasn’t willing to cross.

Still, I allowed myself to admire her curves. She was wearing a sundress that hugged her figure in all the right places. Her simple dress was sexier than any skimpy thing women that were trying too hard wore. I let myself imagine pulling those little ties and opening the bodice.

Shawn must have noticed because he gave me a sharp kick under the table. I shot him a look, but he just raised an eyebrow, silently telling me to cool it. I smirked and leaned back in my chair, sipping my drink.

I supposed I had been ogling her. That was rude. Maybe she was cracking my self-control after all.

Clair, as usual, was leading the conversation. She was talking a mile a minute, her hands waving animatedly as she asked Amelia about her life in England. Shawn was sitting next to Clair, his eyes glued to her like she was the only person in the world. It was pathetic, really. Shawn had been in love with Clair for years, but he was too shy to do anything about it. And Clair? Oblivious as always.

But I got the impression Clair liked him. That was the kind of game I didn’t want to play. I was a straight shooter, and if I had something to say, I said it. One of these days they were going to figure it out but all I could think about was all the wasted time. They could be having sex and enjoying themselves right that second.

I wondered if I should take it upon myself to get that romantic ball rolling. Could we run a research study that would force them to spend time together? Maybe in a cozy log cabin by a lake? The idea had promise. I would have to keep thinking about it later.

“I’d love to visit London one day,” Clair said. “I want to see Big Ben. And Buckingham Palace. I would love to catch a glimpse of Princess Catherine.”

Amelia laughed. “Everyone wants to see the Royals. All I can say, is good luck.”

“I’ll settle for a look at the palace,” she said. “I just want to say I’ve been there. Take a picture with one of those guys in the fuzzy hats.”

I saw an opportunity. Not for me, but for my friend that seemed to be pretty dumb when it came to women. I gave Shawn a little kick under the table, mimicking the one he’d given me earlier. He scowled at me. I tilted my head toward Clair, raising my eyebrows. I saw the second he understood what I was trying to say.

Shawn cleared his throat, his face turning red. “I’ll take you one day,” he said, his voice awkward and stilted.

Clair didn’t even hear him. She was too busy gushing to Amelia about how much she loved British meat pies. I rolled my eyes. I would definitely have to lock them in a cabin with a roaring fireplace and some wine. Poor Shawn was hopeless. He was brilliant in the OR, but when it came to women, he was a disaster.

The waiter arrived, a clipboard in hand, and asked if we were ready to order. Clair immediately launched into a detailed description of what she wanted, complete with substitutions and special requests. Shawn watched her with a dopey grin on his face, like she was reciting poetry instead of asking for no onions on her fish tacos.

Amelia ordered next, her British accent making even the simplest dish sound elegant. “I’ll have the grilled mahi-mahi, please. And a side of plantains.” She glanced at me briefly before adding, “And a mojito, if you don’t mind.”

The waiter nodded, scribbling it down, then turned to me. “And for you, sir?”

I didn’t even need to look at the menu. “Steak fajitas. Rare. And keep the beer coming.”

Shawn ordered last—some kind of salad that made me roll my eyes. Salad? At a beachside cantina? The man needed to live a little.

“Did you hear if you lost privileges at Mitchell’s hospital?” Shawn asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin, his beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. He was normal and relaxed now that he wasn’t trying to connect with Clair.

I smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“Their malpractice insurance might,” Clair said.

Amelia looked at the three of us with confusion. It was rude to talk about something she wasn’t aware of.

Clair turned to Amelia, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Oh, you missed all the drama this morning! Jared here got into it with Dr. Mitchell over at Miami General. It was quite the showdown.”

“Drama? What happened?” Amelia raised an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between me and Clair.

Clair leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So, there’s this kid with a brain tumor, right? Really tricky case. Mitchell wanted to take the conservative approach, but Jared?” She paused for dramatic effect. “Jared wanted to go all in. Remove the whole thing.”

“It was the right call,” I interjected. “That conservative approach would’ve killed the kid.”