In Good Hands. Kathy Lyons

to catch my eye nonetheless.”

      He put his calendar inside his briefcase, then leaned a hip against his desk. “Okay, Dr. Smithson—”

      “Amber, please.”

      “All right, Amber. You’ve got my attention. What is it that you’re looking for?”

      She arched a brow. “I have a friend who might be interested in a face-to-face with the power behind RFE. Your company has an interesting if rather scattered product line. But there are possibilities…”

      He raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Sam’s not here right now, but I’m sure we could make an appointment…” His words trailed off as she arched a sculpted eyebrow.

      “Please. I’ve heard about Mr. Finn. He might be the genius engineer, but you’re the corporate backbone. Trust me when I say I’d much rather be talking to you. He’ll have to come to the meeting, of course, but you’re the business guy. And as we both know, medicine is big business.”

      He nodded slowly. It was true—all of it. Sam and he had been best friends since grade school, and together they had built RFE. But Sam was the visionary. Roger was the business guy who made it all come true. “You seem to know a lot about my company.”

      Her smile was slow, but no less seductive. “I did my research. You’ve got quite the interesting place here.”

      Wow, she was beautiful when she smiled. He wasn’t even sure exactly what had him so hot. Piece by piece, she was not drop-dead gorgeous. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup to speak of. But she had a glow about her, a warmth and a vitality that really grabbed hold of him.

      Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

      His watch alarm interrupted an extremely inappropriate train of thought. Thank God. He tapped the button, then smiled his apology to Dr. Amber Smithson. She nodded, pushed to her feet in a single lithe motion and extended her hand. “You have to go. It was good to meet you, Mr. Martell.”

      “How long are you in town?” he suddenly asked. He didn’t have time for an elaborate dance of maybe this, maybe that. But he could invest an evening or two.

      “I’m not entirely sure,” she answered. “This is kind of a spur-of-the-moment diversion for me.” She glanced at him, her look significant, though damned if he understood why. “My interest in your company is real, Mr. Martell, but I do have an ulterior motive. I hope you’re okay with that.”

      He laughed. He already knew she had an ulterior motive. No woman who looked like her landed in his lap for no reason. There was always a price tag attached. “We’re in the preliminary dance. I got that.” He looked at his watch again. “And I also have to go.”

      “Of course,” she said. “Okay if I walk out with you?”

      He smiled. “Fine with me. I’ll show you the executive elevator.”

      She preceded him out of his office door. “I’m all aquiver.”

      Maybe, he thought with a grin, and maybe not. The “executive elevator” was really a lab elevator, extra large with no frills attached. It was used for moving heavy equipment, but it was also fast, private and emptied out near his car.

      He watched her closely for her reaction to the stripped-down conveyance. Would she turn up her lip at the lack of polished brass and glass?

      Nope. When the elevator doors opened and revealed its undignified glory, she merely raised her eyebrows in surprise then flashed him her warm smile. Like the one she’d given Claire earlier, it was filled with humanity and amusement. As if he were getting a glimpse of the woman beneath the suit. And it was a glimpse that he liked.

      They entered the elevator and while he hit the button for the garage, she tapped her toe on the rubber flooring. “Frills on the outside, no nonsense on the inside. I’m liking your company more and more, Mr. Martell.”

      “Glad to hear—”

      Grind.

      That was the elevator gears, making a horrible sound. It was loud and grating, and they both looked up in anxious surprise.

      Thunk!

      The elevator dropped a half inch and stopped with a jerk.

      He stumbled slightly, but kept his footing. Dr. Smithson, on the other hand, had on stiletto heels. She practically fell over. He caught her, of course. What else would any red-blooded man do? She grabbed his arms, he tightened his grip and a split second later they were full-body pressed together. He had the predictable reaction, especially when she looked up at him with wide, startled eyes.

      “What just happened?” she gasped.

      It took an effort to separate his mind and his libido, but eventually he managed it. She’d recovered her footing, so there was no need for him to be pressed up against her. But, damn, she felt so soft and womanly. He had to force himself to straighten his arms and step away.

      He already knew by feel that the elevator was dead, but he crossed to the panel and pushed the button anyway. Then he switched to pressing the call button for building maintenance. Except it was after seven on a Friday night. No one was around to answer.

      With a soft curse, he whipped open his BlackBerry and hit the first number in his speed dial. Sadly, his best friend was no more responsive than building maintenance. Hell. When the call went to voice mail, he grumbled a quick, “Sam! We’re stuck in your damned elevator. Call me and tell me how to fix this now!” Then he shut the phone with an angry clench of his fist, his mind already scrambling to worst-case scenarios. He was going to miss the bachelor party. He might very well be stuck in this elevator all night. One look at his companion, and he found that he couldn’t quite call that a loss. But he had yet to see how she reacted under stress. A woman like her had to have evening plans.

      She stared back at him, her lips already curving into a rueful grimace. “You’re joking, right? We’re stuck here? Seriously?”

      “Sam’s been tinkering with this thing. Wanted to make some special modifications before the wedding next month.” He held up his hand. “Don’t ask because I don’t know. I’m the stupid one here, engineering-wise. The point is that no one is available to rescue us, most especially not my best friend who is headed to his bachelor party across town. A party, I might add, that I’m hosting but am now going to miss unless I can get said best friend to answer his phone.”

      “Wow,” she said as her eyebrows rose and her eyes lit with humor. “Wow, that really sucks.” Except it didn’t sound like she was upset. In fact, if anything, it looked like she was on the verge of laughter.

      He arched a brow. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

      “No, no,” she said. “The universe does work in interesting ways, doesn’t it?”

      “Um, what?”

      She lifted her face toward him, and it was definitely true. She was holding back great big belly laughs. “You’re telling me that we’re trapped here, alone in this elevator, with no one in the building. In fact, we’re probably stuck here for like an hour or more.”

      He frowned at her, wondering if this was a weird stress reaction. It didn’t seem like that, but he’d never met a business woman who laughed at a schedule change. Their life—his life—was built too tight for that.

      “Well,” he said, “I know I could call 911 or something, but as this is Sam’s private elevator, I’d hate to have them bust through a panel when Sam probably can just phone me a fix.”

      “No, no,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t bother.” Her voice was still trembling with laughter.

      “I don’t understand—”

      She abruptly stepped closer and pressed her fingers to his lips, cutting off his next words. “You don’t have to understand, Mr. Martell. I think the universe is just arranging things for me. Which makes me feel