Page 10 of Lovesick

“I want to apologize for being so abrupt on the phone earlier. And for not calling you last night to let you know how your tests worked out. You don’t have a flu strain. You have something going on because your white blood cell count is slightly high. But it looks like you’ve managed to defeat whatever was invading you.”

“That’s me. I’m a fighter and I usually win.”

He raised a brow at her, melting her already hot panties. Really? This was nuts.

“I’ll consider that a warning.”

“Is that all?” She was going out on a limb, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She ought to be polite, let him make his move or not. But it would have been like trying to stop Halley’s Comet.

He appeared appropriately puzzled. And uncomfortable. She didn’t relent.

“And I’ll need to monitor you.” He put a bottle of capsules on her desk. “And you’ll need to take these twice a day. Antibiotics.”

She ignored the pills, ignored the slicing pain in her gut. She’d become rather one-track minded since she’d experienced the pleasure of kissing Dr. Love.

“How about our dinner date? What time? Where should we go? Nothing too upscale, but somewhere that serves a good whiskey to wind down would be nice.” She might have gone on, but the alarm on his face registered and that proved to be the secret to putting the brakes on her crazy rambling.

He sighed, ran one hand through his hair, and said, “Eight o’clock. I’ll pick you up at home and we’ll go to the Whiskey Tavern on Baxter Street, down by Columbus Park. They have the best assortment of whiskeys in Manhattan, as far as I’m concerned.”

Every cell in her body felt like it had been supercharged with magic fairy dust. She forgot to breathe, forgot to close her mouth, but didn’t forget to jump from her chair and come around her desk. He stood. She stopped in front of him.

“You’re on. And here I thought for a minute you were going to ditch me.”

He sighed. “Couldn’t if I tried.”

A frisson of warning streamed through her like a lit fuse, like she was headed for disaster because he had tried to ditch her. He was conflicted about having a . . . relationship with her. It would only be a matter of time before he settled his conflict.

The thing was, she’d told him she was a fighter, and she’d meant it. She’d fight to keep this one for as long as she could. No rational reason for the need to hang onto him occurred to her, but apparently she didn’t need a reason. She only needed him.

She threw her arms around him, stretched up on her toes and, before he could stop her, before he knew what hit him, she kissed him. Pressed her lips to his mouth, sampled the rich plump meaty feel of those killer lips, tasted the mixture of mint and coffee as she dipped her tongue inside, felt his initial tension uncoil.

The exact moment he released his defenses and returned her kiss her heart leapt and dizziness assailed her. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, opening his mouth and devouring hers, making her wonder if she’d ever really been kissed before, like there was no tomorrow, like she was the only woman in the universe, like he wanted her for lunch here and now.

He held her with his mouth, juicy and hot, and sucked at her lips, licked at her tongue, caressed her back all the way down to her ass where he kneaded with strong surgeon hands and crushed her to him. Until all she could feel or sense was Max at every point they made contact. His heat penetrated her, making her fairly sizzle until the thing that took over every bit of space in her head and all her sensory perception was his hard cock pressed against her at the vee in her thighs.

The ring of her phone shattered the air, shattered her rising heat and the carnal spell of the moment. As he stepped back from her it was as if the sensory overload of desire had been disconnected all at once. His hands were gone, his mouth was gone, his scent disappeared, and that hot exciting taste of him vanished.

She stumbled back because she’d been relying on him, his hold, for balance and now he’d abandoned her.

His face was flushed, his hair mussed, his eyes dark glassy pools flashing caged desire. The phone rang again and she flinched, but she was held there by her stubborn refusal to accept his abandonment. He cleared his throat.

“You should answer the phone.”

“I—” She had no idea what to say as the phone rang for a third time. This time she turned her head to look at it and her gut response was to pick it up and throw it out the window. But she’d have to smash the glass to do that and, besides, someone below could get hurt.

When the phone rang again, he picked it up and handed it to her.

She cleared her throat, but clearing her head wasn’t such a simple matter as Max stood watching her. The air between them crackled and vibrated as if they were each tuning forks setting off waves in the air between them. She could hear the ringing in her ears—

But no, that was the phone in her hands. The sound jolted her, cut into her excited nerves, and so she answered it.

“Hello—I mean, Louise Regal speaking.”

“Lou? What’s going on? I was about to get up and come down to your office.”

“Never mind, George. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. What did you want?”

“I wanted to tell you to bring Dr. Max to the meeting. It might be interesting to have his input since the investors used the company doctor as an example of what’s wrong with Regal. Let’s let the doc tell us what’s right.”