Waking Up With Dr Off-Limits. Amy Andrews

you?’

      She couldn’t help it. She always knew where he was. Would count down the days. His comings and goings were also marked on the calendar in black and she absorbed it like the big fat Adam sponge that she was.

      Maybe groupie was closer to the mark.

      ‘There was some unrest in the last province when we first arrived,’ he said. ‘The department of foreign affairs ordered us out. So I’ve spent the last week talking with international funding bodies, trying to organise for the patients to come to us.’

      Jess felt ill at his casual reference to unrest. She certainly forgot all about the fact that they were both essentially naked and this was probably the longest conversation they’d ever had.

      She knew he went to some remote places in his crusade to bring equality of healthcare to all but there’d never been any trouble before.

      The mere thought of it had her heart palpitating wildly.

      It was no secret she had the utmost respect for what he did. In fact, her housemates often teased her about her hero-worship. But, hey, the man could be making squillions of dollars as a plastic surgeon doing boob jobs and lipo like his esteemed father. Instead he’d chosen to help horrendously disfigured people that no one in the world cared about, have a shot at a normal life.

      He could easily have been a playboy.

      But he wasn’t.

      Frankly, it got her hot just thinking about it.

      ‘Unrest?’ she squeaked.

      Adam waved his arm dismissing the threat. ‘Local warlord stuff. We were fine. Just the government being cautious.’

       Local warlord?

      Dear God, was his work dangerous? What if … what if he went away one time and didn’t come back? What if she never got the chance to …?

      Adam studied Jess intently for an age. She was chewing on that pink, pink mouth and he found himself suddenly wondering what it might be like to run his tongue along those lips and soothe them from her savaging.

      The insidious thought that she was naked beneath her towel hit him from out of the blue. He’d never thought about Jess like that before. Not about her mouth. Or what was under that towel. She was a friend of his little sister.

       She was twenty-three, for crying out loud.

      He was thirty-five.

      And she read romance novels.

      Time to leave. Way past time to leave.

      Jess watched as he shifted, the muscles of his naked arms and chest rippling as he began to pull the sheet aside. ‘Stop,’ she squeaked. ‘What are you doing?’

      Adam frowned. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured her, consulting his watch, ‘I’ve had a couple of hours. I’ll be fine now till the air-con guy gets here.’ Even though he felt like his eyeballs had been rolled in shell grit.

      ‘Adam …’ She shook her head. ‘You haven’t got a stitch on under that sheet.’

      It was on the tip of Adam’s tongue to tell her she didn’t have a stitch on under her towel either but then another thought struck him.

      ‘Well, now,’ he drawled as he leaned back on his splayed palms. ‘And you would know that how, Jessica Donaldson?’

      Realising her gaffe, Jess blushed furiously. A more sophisticated woman may have been able to come up with some witty reply but Jess was mortified.

      ‘You were peeking at me,’ Adam stated and seeing her cheeks grow an even more fetching shade of pink—as pink as her mouth—he laughed.

      The rich, deep sound filled the room and Jess felt her skin break out in goose-bumps.

       She really must turn the air-con down.

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she blustered. Her heated denial only seemed to deepen his mirth and she glared at him impatiently, waiting for his laughter to subside.

      ‘You were covered by the sheet,’ she blurted out. Mostly.

      Adam laughed again, enjoying the way she blushed and looked like she wanted aliens to swoop in and abduct her.

      ‘Well, as I walked naked from my room to your room I don’t have anything to cover me.’

       Of course he had.

      Any normal person would have taken the time to throw on some undies or sling a towel around themselves but Mr Centrefold had preferred his birthday suit.

      ‘Tell you what, why don’t you throw me that towel you’re wearing? That ought to do it.’

      Jess felt her cheeks grow even hotter. Her heart drummed a heavy beat in her ears. She swallowed hard. Her nipples tightened and she was pleased for the thickness of the towelling as she imagined standing before him with nothing on.

      Naked in front of a man.

       In front of Adam.

      ‘Would you like a hand?’ he teased as Jess’s fingers clutched ever tighter at the fastening of the towel. Jess frowned as a heavy fog of confusion muddled her brain. He was smiling, his voice was light and teasing. She risked a brief glance at his face—there was a glint in his eyes.

       Was he flirting with her?

      But why?

      He never flirted with her. Hell, he barely contained himself from ruffling her hair and patting her on the head on those rare occasions he was home and graced the rest of the house with his presence. Instead of being holed up behind closed doors, going for gold in the sexual Olympics.

      He must be jet-lagged. And she was obviously delirious!

      It would be foolish to read too much into any of these crazy last minutes.

      Although dropping the towel just to wipe the smug smile off his face was exceedingly tempting.

      She dropped her gaze instead. To the floor. Desperate to gain some composure.

      Who knew she’d actually find her salvation?

      She smiled and then squatted down, picking up two of her throw cushions and lobbing them at him. ‘These should do the trick.’

      Adam caught them automatically as they hit him square in the chest. They’d been an irritation a couple of hours ago when he’d been trying to off load them so he could get horizontal as quickly as possible. Like an insurmountable mountain.

      ‘Look at that,’ he murmured, his gaze locking with hers. ‘They do serve a purpose.’

      And then, his eyes never leaving her face, he rose in one fluid moment, one cushion clutched to his front, the other to his back.

      Jess took a step back as his superior height overwhelmed her. At five-six in her bare feet she wasn’t exactly short—but she felt positively diminutive in the presence of his all-encompassing maleness.

      ‘Sweet dreams.’ He winked and turned on his heel, sauntering out.

      Jess followed his retreat, amazed that somehow he still managed to look one hundred per cent male even with a purple cushion covering what she knew to be one hell of a swagger.

      Not even her door shutting quietly, blocking her view, was going to be enough to erase that image from her brain. Groaning, her heart tripping, her hands trembling, Jess collapsed on her back on the bed.

      She picked up her pillow and plonked it over her head. Adam’s edgy masculine scent filled her nostrils and she sucked in big, deep lungfuls of him. She threw it aside in disgust, rolling onto her stomach.

      The same tantalising aroma wafted up from the sheet wrapping her in Adam.

      She couldn’t