Engaging the Bachelor (Pulse) Page 2

  So he was a doctor.

  He dipped his head, curious eyes taking in her tight uniform. “Something tells me you’re not really a nurse, though.”

  “I’m not.” Her glance moved over his face, noting the stubble on his jaw, the streaks of charcoal under perceptive eyes that looked at her far too carefully. One thing was for sure. The man needed a warm bed and a good night’s sleep. He might be tired but it didn’t distract from his good looks at all. In fact, it made him appear more rugged, down to earth, something more than a pampered Southampton hottie born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

  Even in her heels, he was tall enough that she had to tilt her head to see him, and as he hovered over her, translucent blue eyes—looking like they could see right through her—remained locked on hers, questioning. Her toes curled, but it had nothing to do with the overindulgent shoes that pinched her feet.

  His hair was shorter than she remembered, more professional, but the smell of his skin was the same. Sun and sand on a warm summer day. What was it about his aroma that had her forgetting she didn’t do close? That letting people in only led to heartache. Lord knew, as a child she’d seen enough ‘uncles’ come and go from her life that she eventually started calling all of them Skip. No need to get personal, since every one of them bailed sooner or later, abandoning her mother and leaving Gemma to clean up the mess.

  Unable to help herself, she breathed in his scent and let it evoke heated memories that she’d spent ten long years trying to forget. Or remember. She could never be sure. One thing she did know—Sailor Boy, or rather Carson, was the guy who’d taken her virginity, the only guy she’d ever let close, and that wasn’t something she was going to forget in a hurry.

  His hard chest pressed against her, making her so very aware of him, right down to the way his zipper dug into her stomach, and the firm bulge throbbing beneath it. She swallowed, remembering the sting of his erection as she wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him deeper into her body. But the pain didn’t matter. No, the only thing that mattered that night was that he’d protected her, and she’d given him the only thing she had—herself.

  “Gemma, are you okay?” he whispered, his warm breath on her face drawing her back to the present. Tension hung between them, taking up space, hovering like the sharp blade of a guillotine. His lips were close, so close that if she wanted to kiss him, all she had to do was go up on her toes. He wet his bottom lip like he was expecting her to do just that.

  No!

  She sucked in a quick breath to get her head on right then straightened. With a twist of her body, she broke from the circle of his arms and stepped back. Guard firmly back in place, she spun the handcuffs and flashed him a brilliant smile, hoping it didn’t come off as shaky as she felt.

  “I’m just fine, Sailor Boy,” she said, stepping into the bad girl role she knew so well. She embraced her reputation, wore it like a shield to protect herself from the heartbreak that came with loss—and there was always loss. If there was one thing she knew, eventually everyone checked out, they went across the country, or to the bottom of a bottle.

  Hooded eyes dropped, and he angled his head. Everything in the way he was watching her was intense. Too intense. “We need to talk.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” she said, her voice feathery light.

  “Gemma—”

  “Look, what happened between us was a long time ago. I’d actually forgotten all about it until I saw you just now,” she said, pushing the lie past her lips.

  “Is that right?” He eyed her suspiciously, unconvinced.

  “That’s right. The past is the past, Sailor Boy.”

  The look in his eyes warned he still wanted answers. Too bad. She didn’t owe him anything. Like she said, the past was the past and her future didn’t involve him, no matter how hot he was, or how her body reacted to him.

  She turned away and forced her knees to work. Her heels wobbled, but she quickly righted herself and made her way around the room. She didn’t need to turn to know Carson’s eyes were drilling into her back. She felt it all the way to her core, and then some. Desperate to get her mind off him and back to business, she stopped at a table full of hot young doctors, where she tapped her chin in consideration.

  “Hello boys,” she purred. “Anyone want to play along?”

  “As long as you’re bidding,” one of the men said. She grinned, and gave him her usual flippant answer. “Already got a date, Doc.” It was a lie, but it helped fend off unwanted attention, and she didn’t care that everyone in town thought she slept around. In no way could she qualify as a slut, having been with only three men, one of them Carson. But her bad girl persona painted her as someone never to bring home to mother, and that was just the thing that helped her keep people out. Past experiences proved that getting close led to disappointment, and she wasn’t about to set herself up for that kind of failure. Now, the best way she knew how to keep a measure of distance was by pretending to be something she wasn’t.

  One of the men stood. She walked backward as she guided him to the front of the bar. She took over from Andy, spinning the guy around to give the girls a good view of what they could purchase. Carson stood poker straight, glaring at her, and every few seconds her glance darted to his. Good God, everything about him threw her off her game.

  Stop looking at him.

  She was just about to ask for her first bid, when the scrape of a chair gained her attention. Her gaze flew to Carson’s as he stepped from the shadows, clearing his way to the bar. There was an edgy rawness about him, the domineering control of a man who went after what he wanted—and got it.

  The pulse in her neck leaped, every nerve in her body alive as he closed the distance. His confident strides, athletic body, and overwhelming presence captured the attention of the ladies in the room. They began clapping, and Gemma swallowed the apprehension rising in her throat. What the hell was he doing? She didn’t think for one second that he was offering himself up for auction. He was up to something.

  He stepped up to her, his body close—too close. In a move that took her by surprise, he snatched the handcuffs from her fingers and slipped one ring around her wrist and the other around his, linking them together. His eyes darkened, the intensity of his baby blues stealing the oxygen from her lungs.

  She gasped, and tried to tug away. His powerful hand grabbed hers, and she swallowed. God, those hands. So big, strong…perfect. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He flashed perfect white teeth in a smile and turned to the crowd. Everything in his casual stance and flirty, bad boy grin belied the steely determination in his eyes. “Gemma here has been putting everyone in the hot seat tonight. What do you think? Is it time to give her a taste of her own medicine?”

  The clapping from the crowd damn near deafened her. “Go for it, dude,” said the guy she’d just dragged to the front of the bar. He slapped Carson on the shoulder, a knowing grin on his face. “Have fun,” he said, and turned to make his way back to his seat.

  She struggled against him, and he pulled her tight. Her body quivered all over, and he dipped his head, the telltale look in his eyes letting her know her body’s reactions hadn’t gone unnoticed. Dammit. Everything about him rattled her control, and she really didn’t want him to know how much he affected her.

  Without ever taking his eyes off hers, he said, “One thousand dollars,” and if she weren’t cuffed to him, she would have sunk to the floor in shock. He just bid one thousand dollars to take me on a date?

  He either seriously wanted answers, or…something else. Her mind drifted. Perhaps what he was really after was a repeat of the night they had together? She chewed on that for a moment and once again let her gaze rake the length of him, a slow perusal that warmed her from the inside out. Heat gathered between her legs, dampening her panties. When the hell was the last time she had a man in her bed, anyway? Maybe a quick roll between the sheets was just what the doctor ordered.

  As his obscene bid hovere
d over them, shocked surprise rippled through the room, followed by curious chatter. Someone in the back started clapping, and Gemma peered into the dark ready to muzzle the whole lot of them.

  “Well done, Gemma,” a woman called out.

  “You can have me for free,” someone else said.

  “I am not for sale,” Gemma responded through clenched teeth. “I’m…I’m not…I don’t even work at the hospital.”

  “Two thousand,” Carson called out.

  “Oh. My. God,” Andy said, stepping up to the two of them. Hands on her hips, Andy narrowed her eyes—and then they widened like a lightbulb had gone off. “You’re…It’s you.” She looked from Carson to Gemma back to Carson again. “We…”

  “Yeah, that’s right. It’s me. Carson Reynolds,” he said. “And yes it was my party you crashed.”

  “And now you’re crashing ours,” Gemma said, seething.

  “Nope, just trying to raise money for your cause.” He dipped his head and pitched his voice low. “Are you really going to say no to two thousand toward your charity?”

  “Hell, no,” Andy blurted out.

  “Andy,” Gemma warned. Carson’s deep, sexy voice reverberated through her and sent her pulse racing. In no way was this about the charity. This was about the two of them and some unfinished business he thought they had.

  “You want me to keep going?” He cocked a brow. “We can do this all night, Gemma.”

  She stared at him. Some juvenile part of her wanted to see how high he’d go—what the girl from the wrong side of the tracks was worth to him—but there was another part that just wanted to put an end to this.

  “Three thousand,” he called out.

  “Gemma,” Andy said, jumping back and forth from one foot to the other, like she was about to explode from excitement. “That’s a lot of freaking money.”

  “And I’m not for sale.” She glared at Carson and tipped her chin up. “Besides I have a date tonight.”

  “Break it.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Doctor’s orders.”

  “You’re not my doctor,” she argued.

  A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “Not yet.”

  She laughed, despite the situation. “Are you seriously saying you want to play doctor with me, Sailor Boy?”

  “Four thousand,” he said, the outrageous amount showing her just how serious he was. “I’m not leaving here until you agree to a date.”

  “Do you always get what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  Honest to God, she’d imagined he was different. Thought he wasn’t the kind to throw money around to get what he wanted. But maybe she’d been wrong about him, had based that idea on limited information. Maybe he was just like every other rich guy she’d come across. He’d certainly seemed different back in the day, caring, sincere. But then again, she hadn’t really known him, and time changed everyone. Heck, for all she knew, he’d switched career paths for the money and stature. Maybe he was the kind of guy who had a God complex and needed to feed his ego.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she put her hand up to stop him. Okay, this had gone on long enough. Four thousand dollars was way more than she had in the bank—the beat-up car she drove around was proof of that. Soon enough everyone would start to question what was really going on. Sure she was from the wrong side of the tracks, but she had a delicate relationship with the women in this bar, this town. They weren’t friends—her reputation prevented that—but they appreciated her jewelry, and a few even carried it in their specialty boutiques. She didn’t want to raise suspicions or do anything to jeopardize her business, or her relationship with this close-knit community.

  She plastered on a smile and infused her voice with a lightness she didn’t feel. “Looks like we have a hot one tonight. What do you say ladies? Should I accept Dr. Reynolds generous charitable offer?” she asked, freezing him out with formalities and reminding everyone this was about the charity, not her.

  “So, that’s a yes?” Andy asked, her big eyes wide and hopeful.

  Gemma gave a curt nod, and Andy tapped the microphone and said, “Sold.” She gestured toward the staff. “Let’s take a short break and refill our drinks.”

  The noise level reached a new high as the waitresses made their rounds, taking drink and food orders. Thankful the attention was off her, Gemma reached into her pocket for the key to the handcuffs.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Carson asked.

  She worked to insert the key, but her hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t get it into the lock. “Getting us out of these things.”

  “Maybe I’m not ready to set you free.”

  “Too bad.”

  The key slipped from her hand, and they both bent down and reached for it at the same time. Fingers brushed—intimate, soft—lingering a moment too long. She drew back like she’d been burned, but not before she caught the clean scent of his skin again, a beautiful reminder of the night that was permanently etched in her memory. Desire bombarded her, and she made a noise to cover the moan rising in her throat as his hand closed over the key.

  His gaze slid over hers, his eyes glistening invitingly. He slipped the key into the lock and freed them. “Maybe I’ll hang on to these.” Handcuffs dangling from his finger, he bent forward, and put his mouth near her ear, the warmth of his breath on her face eliciting a shiver. “I might want to use them later.”

  She snatched them back and jumped up. “Maybe I’ll use them on you.” Having taken care of herself for as long as she could remember, she was an independent woman, one who always called the shots. This take-charge attitude of his flustered the hell out of her and teased the hungry ache between her legs.

  He followed her up, straightening to his full height. A wicked grin tweaked the corners of his mouth. “If that’s the way you want to play it, I’m game.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Bid on me. I’m not interested in rekindling anything with you.”

  “What makes you think this was all about you? I’m just trying to help out with your cause.” He pushed one hand into his pocket, looking for all the world like he was nothing more than a generous benefactor. But she knew better. Mr. Innocent, he was not. “You weren’t auctioning any women, and I wasn’t about to bid on some dude.”

  “Why not? It’s for a good cause.”

  “Yeah, but I like a date who can hold her own, one who is a little rough and tough.”

  “You’re saying these guys aren’t rough and tough?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin, and a laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “Not like you, they’re not.” His warm hand caressed her waist. “But don’t worry, there’s a cure for that.”

  She eyed him, refusing to let him know his touch turned her to putty. “Oh, yeah? And what might that remedy be? You?”

  His fingers splayed, and a flash of heat moved through her. Instead of answering, he asked, “Ready?”

  She pushed on his shoulder to send him away, but he didn’t budge. Cripes, she’d have a better chance of moving an eighteen-wheeler with her finger than him. Rock solid and full of rigid determination, he stood there waiting like he had all the time in the world.

  “Sorry, Sailor Boy, but I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone.” She tapped the podium. “I still have work to do so you might want to go home and get a good night’s sleep. You look like you could use it.”

  Instead of backing off, he stepped closer, the blue in his eyes darkening and derailing her ability to think with clarity. “I’ve waited ten years, Gemma. Tired or not, a few more hours aren’t going to hurt.”

  Shit, she wished he wouldn’t stand so close. It was messing with her last working brain cell. “When I get done here, I have to take Gracie for a walk.”

  He arched a brow. “Gracie?”

  “My guard dog,” she explained, and twirled the handcu
ffs around her fingers.

  “I like dogs.”

  “She doesn’t like men. If you get within five feet of her, she’ll probably bite.”

  “With a name like Gracie, she doesn’t sound like she’d hurt a fly.”

  “I never said she had anything against flies,” she replied, her voice light, teasing.

  What the hell am I doing?

  She was a known flirt, but the last guy she should be playing games with was Carson.

  He laughed, amusement lingering in his eyes when he said, “I’ll take my chances.”

  She gave a casual shrug, enjoying the easy banter between them more than she would have liked. “Fine then, don’t blame me if she takes your leg off.”

  “Leg or no legs, you’re having dinner with me.”

  “I don’t remember you being so bossy.”

  He arched a brow, the look in his eyes challenging. “Oh, so now you remember something about me, do you?”

  “No…yes…I mean…” Shit. Of course she remembered. Ten long years had passed, and she still couldn’t forget his kisses, the soft sweep of his hands on her body—gentle one minute, greedy the next. Arousal wound through her just from the memories.

  Honest to God, how she was going to make it through a date with him without wanting an encore was beyond her.

  Wait. Why the hell couldn’t she just get him naked and have her way with him—again? Why not satisfy a curiosity—what would he be like in bed after all these years—and scratch the itch that still stirred deep within her. Once he demonstrated that he cared only about himself and his needs, she’d be able to forget about him once and for all, and get on with her life.

  Or not.

  Chapter Three

  With the auction finished and the bar empty, Carson shouldered his backpack and followed Gemma outside. He stood in the parking lot while she locked the door behind them. Darkness had fallen over the town, the only illumination coming from a nearby streetlamp. She turned to him and tilted her head, a defiant gleam in her big brown eyes.

  “It’s late. Are you sure you still want to do this?”