Naked Pursuit. Jill Monroe

volunteer for a lot of medical studies, or at least I used to. I’m in med school now, so I don’t have much time. But since it’s fall break and this was an overnight trial, I thought I could fit it in. What about you?” she asked.

      “I knew someone.”

      That’s all he needed to say. At some point in his life, Owen had lost a friend. It struck her as something special that he cared enough to try to make sure others did make it to see another day. “That’s the real reason doctors do what we do. To help others.”

      This wasn’t just a guy she could take to bed and leave all emotion behind. Owen was a man she could actually like. Which made him not the best candidate for a one-off night of ecstasy, but she wasn’t backing away now. Owen was the man she wanted.

      “Where to?” he asked when they were alone in the PharmaTest parking lot. He’d been right; they had traveled only a few blocks in Tony’s sports car. “You want to find someplace else to go? Wanna grab something to eat?”

      But Stella didn’t want to talk or think. “What do you want to do?” she asked, knowing he wasn’t the kind of man for delay tactics. He’d made it clear he wanted her, and right now she wanted to hear it. Again.

      He gifted her with that sexy half smile again. “I don’t care what we do. Or where we go. I just want to be with you.”

      Exactly. She just wanted to kiss this gorgeous, sexy man again and again. She sank her fingers into the short hair behind his neck and urged his lips toward hers.

      Not much urging was required. With a groan, his lips once again settled against hers. “I’ve thought of nothing else since spotting you at this place,” he admitted against her mouth. Then his tongue slipped inside her mouth and along her tongue and she was done. Done in. Done for. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

      Seriously? What the doctor ordered? Had she just made that crack in her head? So Hayden wasn’t the only one who could make bad jokes.

      Time to get serious. “Your place close?” she asked between kisses.

      He cupped her face, stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, his hazel eyes almost brown. “I don’t live in Dallas. I’m only here a few days, visiting for my grandmother’s birthday, and the place is too crowded. You?”

      She shook her head. “Same. I have three roommates.”

      “I want to be alone with you,” he said, the warmth of his breath teasing her temple.

      Had this guy actually made her shiver with just a few whispered words? Him. Exactly.

      “Alone with you sounds about perfect.”

      His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and a small smile played along his lips. Had he doubted how much she wanted him? Well, yeah, probably, because when did this kind of devastating instawant actually happen? His show of relief made warmth spread throughout her body.

      His hazel eyes opened and his smile widened. For her. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in Dallas, but I think there’s a hotel not far from here.”

      Stella nodded. “I know the one. By the park.”

      “My car’s that way,” he told her, pointing toward a battered truck with Colorado plates. They raced together toward his car.

      The hotel was far swankier than she’d remembered. A landmark boutique hotel in the Dallas area, it had a lush art-deco lobby, complete with a large crackling fire. The rubber soles of her shoes didn’t do justice to the sleek hardwood floors beneath them, set in striking geometric designs. Chevron-patterned wallpaper lined the walls. Thick, luxurious drapes in gold and burgundy flanked the deep-set bay windows, many of them displaying stained glass that she would have loved to inspect—if she weren’t with the world’s sexiest man.

      Everything about the place screamed luxury and expense. Except a place like this didn’t scream. Never anything that crass. This was the hotel that enforced a dress code, and while Owen looked amazing in his jeans and casual polo shirt, his clothes were not fit for the Market Gardens hotel. Or hers.

      But Owen kept walking to the ornately carved wooden desk that was less like a check-in counter and more like the kind of thing a millionaire shipping tycoon—no, a billionaire investment banker—kicked up her stilettos on.

      “Welcome to the Market Gardens. What name is your reservation under?” the friendly yet cool clerk asked them. In a suit and tie, he looked exactly like the kind of man who could hold his own against the wealthily entitled of the world as well as two people who’d just walked in off the street on a whim.

      Stella bit back a laugh. They’d not thought this hotel plan through. Of course the Market Gardens required reservations. She began to turn away.

      But Owen played it cool as well, which probably wasn’t a stretch for him. “No reservation. What do you have available?”

      The smile faded from the clerk’s face. “We’re usually booked up several weeks in advance.”

      They must look like exactly what they were—two people up for a little spontaneous rendezvous. Even that was too generous. Sex. They were down for some hot and dirty sex.

      “We’re only interested in tonight,” Owen continued.

      With lips pursed, the clerk toggled the mouse and woke up the computer discreetly hidden beneath a carved wood panel.

      “Would you prefer a courtyard view?” he asked. “I have a suite.”

      Her shoulders stiffened in alarm. A courtyard view in this place must cost a fortune. “That’s okay—”

      “Absolutely,” Owen said, and slid his credit card toward the reservationist.

      “You’ll be in one of our tower rooms, second floor.” With a few clicks of the mouse and a swipe of the card, the transaction was complete. The clerk slid over a leather case containing their key cards.

      Wow. Even the fanciest hotel she’d ever stayed at had only presented her with a folded-over piece of cardstock with the plastic key card stuffed inside.

      The clerk signaled for the bellhop. A young man sporting a gray blazer trimmed with gold at the cuff and neck quickly appeared, friendly smile in place.

      “We don’t have any luggage,” Owen informed them without a trace of embarrassment, even though she felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks.

      “Of course, sir,” the clerk responded coolly, unfazed.

      Why should she even care? She was here to live her life before her job took it over again after this quick break.

      “Actually, I do have a duffel bag inside my truck. I’ll be right back.”

      No way was he leaving her here alone in the lobby of snobs. Stella quickly followed on his heels.

      He’d mentioned earlier that he’d wanted to impress her. She didn’t want him to face an ugly credit card bill to do it. “Owen, this place has got to be way too much money.”

      “It’s on me,” he told her and fished out the keys to his truck. A large black duffel bag rested on the backseat, and he picked it up and swung it up over his shoulder.

      Stella had grown up with two working doctors for parents, so money had never been tight, but rash expensive impulses weren’t something they’d ever indulged in. She didn’t want Owen to feel as if she expected it. “I just don’t want you to think you have to spend a lot of money on me. Maybe they have another roo—”

      He gripped her by the shoulders. “Stella, it’s done. The only excuse my parents would accept for me not staying with them is that I’m at the Market Gardens. Besides, we’re living life,” he told her, then stifled any further protest with a kiss.

      Living life in a swanky hotel with the world’s sexiest guy...why was she complaining again? He crooked his elbow to