In Good Hands. Kathy Lyons

“I don’t like lies, Dr. Smithson.”

      “I don’t blame you.” She flashed a rueful smile. “And I haven’t lied so much as not confessed my ulterior motive.”

      He folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow. “Yes?”

      “It has to do with a bet.”

      4

      “DID YOU KNOW THAT Claire thinks you’re gay?” Amber pushed the words out in a rush, and she wasn’t surprised when it took a moment for Roger to process the information. But when he did, his body jerked in shock.

      “What?”

      She could see his mind spinning a mile a minute, so she rushed out her side of the story before he could imagine something worse. “She said you were gay, I said no way and so we have a bet going.”

      He gaped at her, but as she expected, he caught up quickly. “This is a seduction? Did you tamper with the elevator?”

      His tone was less than flattering, and she reacted purely on instinct. “Of course not!”

      His eyes narrowed. “To which? The seduction or the tampering?”

      She grimaced, but he had her there. She hadn’t meant this to be a seduction—well, not in an elevator at this particular moment—but this had been an elaborate game of foreplay. “I’m a doctor, not an engineer. I wouldn’t know how to stop an elevator if my life depended on it.”

      He wasn’t fooled. “And the seduction?”

      “It was just for a kiss,” she confessed. “And now I’ve told you without making any moves. I just…I just thought it was funny that the universe somehow maneuvered us into a stalled elevator at just the right time.” Her words trailed away on a lame note. Great. Some seductress she’d turned out to be. Meanwhile, his eyes weren’t narrowed anymore. His expression was more one of deep thought.

      “What was the prize?”

      She blinked. Beyond getting to kiss the alpha executive? “Um…” She pointed to the box of baked goods. “More of those.”

      He snorted. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Seriously, my kisses are worth a box of muffins?”

      “Well, they are vegan muffins,” she clarified.

      “Does that make it better or worse?”

      She smiled. Okay, so he wasn’t furious. Which left them exactly where? She might have called everything off when she was in her shapeless sundress and hemp sandals. But she was dressed for success right now, in her last surviving power suit. Clothes did make a difference and part of her really missed the woman who was climbing the Mandolin corporate ladder, seeing a zillion patients and trying to change the course of medicine one closed mind at a time. She’d had purpose then, and she’d been helping people. What had she done lately but feed her own intellect?

      “Are you even a doctor?” he asked.

      She nodded. “And I really did work at Mandolin.”

      At his skeptical look, she reached into her purse. She didn’t have a fancy BlackBerry like she’d once had permanently attached to her body, but she did have a massively cheap prepaid. She dialed the number from memory, then put it on speaker so that Mr. Martell could hear the conversation. The switchboard answered on the second ring.

      “Mandolin Hospital, how may I be of service?”

      “Please connect me to Dr. Jack Ross. It’s Dr. Amber Smithson about a consult.” Then she rattled off his extension.

      Across from her, Roger frowned and looked at his watch. Amber just laughed.

      “We always stayed late on Friday nights. We shut our doors, pretended we’d gone home, then got a ton of work done. Plus, it covered for the fact that we had no social life except for our jobs.”

      As expected, Jack answered on the second ring.

      “Amber?” A low voice rumbled through the line. “Has a miracle happened? Have you finally decided to give up all your pie-eyed idealism? I’ve been working on the director since you left. He might be open to you coming back, but only if you schmooze him right.”

      Amber barely held back her smile. This was exactly what she wanted to hear. But she couldn’t seem too eager, so she glanced at her elevator companion. “Hello, Jack. Look, I’ve got you on speaker with a Roger Martell of RFE. That stands for Robotics For Everyone.”

      As she spoke, Roger pulled out his BlackBerry. A glance at his screen showed that he was looking up Jack’s pedigree. A second later his eyebrows rose. Yup, Jack was one impressive neurologist. But more important, his work with amputees made him an ideal consultant to a robotics company.

      Jack was groaning into the phone. “Jeez, Amber, not another robotics firm. I’ve got them coming out of my ears.”

      “Would I steer you wrong? Just give them an hour. Let them prove their worth.”

      Jack took a long time to answer, but in the end, he groaned his agreement. “Fine. I have an hour first Tuesday next month. Bring him then.”

      She grinned at Roger. “It’ll be two of them. Roger Martell and Sam Finn—”

      “And you, Amber. You bring them in person or not at all.”

      Perfect. Exactly what she’d wanted in the first place. “Fine,” she said with a pretend show of reluctance. “If that’s the only way.”

      “Tuesday at three. With you or not at all.” With that, Jack cut the connection.

      Amber exhaled and slowly clicked her phone shut. She didn’t know what to think about what she’d just done. It felt like the outfit, plus having her hair piled on top of her head again, had somehow put her back in time. She was Dr. Smithson again, thinking nothing of scheduling a meeting halfway across the country. It felt strange, but also good. She’d never felt more powerful than when she was in this mode. It was seductive, this feeling, and she worried that she was compromising too much. Then she remembered her bank account and knew that some compromises were necessary.

      Meanwhile, Roger was looking at her as a man might take the measure of a cobra. “So you’re on the level,” he said, though it came out part question.

      “That part was real, yes.”

      “And the seduction part?” he prompted, his tone annoyingly neutral.

      She shrugged, but she couldn’t resist putting a little attitude into the movement. She’d never had to beg for sex before, she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “As I said, the universe works in mysterious ways.”

      “That’s not an answer,” he said.

      “It wasn’t meant to be.”

      He paused, his eyes too dark, his expression very intense and completely unreadable. And then he took a slow step forward. “And you think I’m gay.”

      “That was Claire. I’m betting a half-dozen vegan muffins on straight.” She arched a brow. Any man with his looks would have an ego to go with it. And, my, she loved teasing a man with an ego. “Straight, hard and so hot sometimes even you can’t stand it.”

      His lips curved in a predatory smile. “Takes one to know one.”

      She laughed, the sound coming out low and throaty without her consciously willing it. “Just because I recognize a fellow playmate doesn’t mean I’m going to dance in your sandbox.”

      “And yet you made a bet with Claire, dressed up all pretty for me and strutted your way into my office.”

      “I didn’t stop the elevator. Maybe you did.”

      He shook his head, and she would swear his eyes glittered with sexual intent. “How does a single kiss prove that I’m straight?” He moved