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“I … um … drowning survivor?”
“Yeah, Trent something-or-another.”
“Oh, him.” She gave a husky laugh and slid her gaze all over him like he was a mega-sized chocolate snack and she was contemplating a sugar binge. “We heard all about his dramatic rescue this morning. Everyone’s talking about what a hero you are.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he denied, straightening from his slouch. He was used to attracting attention from the opposite sex, but felt like she’d stripped him naked right there beneath the bright fluorescents. He frowned. Sometimes he wondered if the interest had more to do with his father’s money or the fact that he’d been discharged from the army with full military honors as well as a Purple Cross. Some women liked that kind of thing. “I wasn’t the one who saved his life.”
“That’s not what I heard.” She smiled as though he was being modest, and pointed down the corridor. “Just follow the noise. I’m sure Trent and his friends will be thrilled you stopped by.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, by the way, Dr. Sullivan?” she called as he headed down the corridor. “Have you seen the morning papers?”
He paused with a puzzled look over his shoulder. “No, why?”
She winked and fanned herself. “You really should check them out.”
He shrugged and said, “Okay,” although he had absolutely zero interest in the tabloids. He’d spent enough time as a kid trying to live down his mother’s publicized exploits or dodging the paparazzi to care about reading whatever had the nurse looking like she was having a menopausal moment.
Approaching the noisy private room, he slowed his pace and came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. The private room was filled with young studs all vying for the attention of a woman propped beside the window. She was flushed and laughing, looking as young and carefree as a college sophomore. Luke recognized her instantly. Those long ropes of tousled red-gold curls were hard to miss, as were the soft, full curves beneath the lilac tank top. And the long legs encased in snug denim were unmistakably those of the woman who’d absconded with his favorite bomber jacket.
Dr. Lilah Meredith.
Lilah rolled her eyes and laughingly declined her fifth invitation for a date. It had been a long time since she’d been around noisy, energetic twenty-year-olds and she couldn’t help feeling old—despite their assurances that she was a total “babe” or that she was only a few years older.
Besides, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a “real” date, let alone how to behave if she went on one with a couple of babe-crazy students.
Movement near the door distracted her from the disturbing image of herself as a lonely cougar—at twenty-nine—and Lilah sucked in a startled breath when she recognized the figure filling the doorway.
The last time she’d seen him he’d been standing head and shoulders above the crowd wearing nothing but low-slung jeans, a scowl and looking like the poster boy for Heroes R Us. The last time she’d seen him she’d thought he was just some hunky hot guy who’d been in the right place at the right time. Instead, he was a colleague—a guy from a world she wanted nothing to do with.
Granted, she’d only been working ER for a short while and had never actually been on rotation with him, but she’d heard enough about Luke Sullivan and seen him from a distance that she should have recognized him. But, then, she’d been too busy to pay attention to more than deep green eyes and big warm hands.
Now the sight of him dressed in black leather and looking all big and bad and dangerous reminded her of long muscular legs, mile-wide shoulders and a body made for underwear ads—underwear for real men, that was, and not the pretty boys they usually featured.
There’d been that brief glimpse of him last night in wet black boxer briefs that still gave her heart palpitations when she recalled the way they’d molded to … well, everything.
Pushing away from the window with a breezy “Well, boys, it’s been fun,” Lilah reached for the shoulder bag she’d dropped on the bedside cabinet.
She slung it over her shoulder to a chorus of “You can’t leave now,” and pushed her way through the wall of youthful testosterone.
“Since the real hero of the moment has arrived, why don’t I leave you to introduce yourselves? Maybe Connor can ask Dr. Sullivan for a date. I hear he’s—”
“Already got a date with you, Dr. Meredith,” his deep voice interrupted smoothly, sending goose bumps skittering across her flesh. Her eyes widened. Oh, heck, no, she thought with a gasp of dismay. Absolutely no getting all worked up over some rich guy playing a badass biker dude. Especially not a guy with the kind of look in his eyes that tempted women to sin.
He stepped into the room, abruptly dominating the space and sucking out all the air with a much more potent cocktail of testosterone and pheromones. But, then, he was a full-grown adult male who’d had years to perfect the recipe. Oh, boy.
His disturbing green gaze held hers for a couple of moments too long for comfort and his mouth curled—as though he was picturing her in her underwear. Jerk.
Lilah’s face heated and she nervously licked her lips, which caused his eyes to darken instantly.
“Oh, I’m sure the guys will make much better dates than me,” she said, cursing the alarming way her breath hitched and her knees wobbled as she moved towards the door. She paused and bit her lip when he made no move step aside. Her eyes narrowed. He was huge, darn it, and surrounded by masculine heat and energy that was way too appealing for comfort.
Couldn’t he have waited for her to leave before arriving like a hot avenging angel of doom?
His hooded gaze swept over her face to her mouth before dropping to take in the rest of her body as though she was still wearing nothing but scraps of wet underwear. “I sincerely doubt that, Doctor,” he drawled, drawing snickers from the group behind her. His mouth curled into a slow grin as sinful as the gaze that rose to hers. “I’ll just keep my date with you.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, Dr. Sullivan,” Lilah said smoothly, and was forced to brush past his big body on her way out the door. A chorus of whistles and whoops followed her down the passage and she heard him say, “No offence, Connor.”
A burst of laughter nearly drowned out Connor’s reply. “None taken, dude,” was followed by, “You lucky dog,” before she was finally out of earshot.
Face burning, Lilah opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator to the ground floor. She hoped by the time she reached the lobby she could blame her pounding pulse and ragged breathing on jogging down five flights of stairs.
She hit the ground floor and moved across the huge foyer, nodding to a group of ER nurses, who grinned and exchanged knowing looks when they saw her.
Idly wondering what that was all about, she searched through her shoulder bag for her keys, looking up when someone called her name.
Two women who’d been at the bachelorette party the night before, approached. Kim Howard held aloft a folded daily newspaper. “Have you seen the tabloids?” Lilah frowned and shook her head wondering why she should be interested in the tabloids.
“You should take a look, girl,” Mandy Morgan advised her. “They’re calling you Wild Woman and speculating about which underwear house you’re moonlighting for.”
Lilah felt her mouth drop open. “Wha-what?”
Kim snapped open the newspaper and flipped it around so Lilah could see the headlines and color picture dominating the front page.
A loud buzzing noise filled Lilah’s ears and she thought she might faint. Beneath the headline