One Night...With Her Boss. Annie O'Neil

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СКАЧАТЬ A rich contrast to the deep maroon lambswool jumper that his shoulders filled to designer perfection. Of course. Would The Suit’s shoulders do anything but?

      What had happened to his suit, anyway? Probably best he didn’t have it on. Too much temptation. Mind you, his earth-toned moleskin trousers didn’t exactly look off the rack. Aidan was rocking a sophisticated “lad” look. Complete with ironically arched eyebrow as he scanned her flat.

      It was obvious, as she watched him take in the old leather sofa, the bare walls and the small dining table without chairs, that he found her living arrangements amusing.

      “I’m presuming no one told you we have furniture stores up here?”

      “Look—” Ali started, then clamped her lips tight. It wasn’t as if she was going to tell him she’d sold all of her furniture in a spontaneous and very thorough need to clutter-clear.

      Everything she’d had before her mum died was a memory, and ever since then she didn’t do rehashes of the past. She wasn’t going to tell him a single thing. Not about her mother. Not about her who-knew-where-the-hell-he-was? father. Not about the accident that had ended her dance career before it had even begun. Not a word. Just like she’d said at the airport. No names. No history. Just unbridled passion.

      It was obvious Aidan wasn’t after a roll in the hay now. He was on a fact-finding mission.

      Too bad! This was her space. One night stands at snowy airports were one thing. Casual drop-in dinner dates with her grouch of a boss had a whole other rulebook.

      “Doesn’t seem the doctor’s got much in the house.”

      Aidan was making himself quite at home—merrily inspecting her refrigerator’s stores and, having found them wanting, opening up the cupboard doors where he would see, Ali knew, absolutely no food. It was all very familiar for someone with whom she was—er—intimately familiar.

      “I’ve been busy. I haven’t really—”

      “If you’re going to be part of this team you’ve got to keep your energy up.” Aidan wagged a teasing finger in her direction.

      Who was this man? Dr. Jolly-Jekyll or Mr. Keep-Your-Hands-Off Hyde?

      “Well?” Aidan looked at her expectantly.

      “Sorry? I didn’t catch that.” Ali tugged her fingers through her hair, twisting a few dark strands round her index finger. Her stomach was in knots, so her hair might as well be, too.

      “What’s it short for?”

      “What?” She stared at him blankly.

      “Your full name—I presume it’s not Ali.”

      “Alexis. Defender of humankind,” she answered by rote, eyes suddenly locked with his.

      Aidan stepped out from behind the kitchen bar, clasping her right hand between both of his. A burst of electricity shot along her spine as she found herself eye to eye with the appealing expanse of his chest. She’d kissed that chest. Lots. A nice display of sexy man whorls of hair above a c’mon, punch me hard set of abs.

      If she were to look up into those espresso-colored eyes of his and—

      She felt her hand being rigorously shaken.

       Er … Was she missing something here?

      “Hello there, Alexis.” He further corrected himself, “Dr. Lockhart. I think we got off to the wrong start today.”

       Today?

      “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Aidan Tate, Chief Medical Officer for the North Stars—at your service.”

      He dropped her tingling fingers, took a broad step backward and performed a half bow, then looked up at her with those incredible, endlessly dark eyes. Ali felt her knees give a little.

       For heaven’s sake. You’ve met the entire royal family and didn’t act like such a ninny. Pull yourself together!

      She gave him a slight head-nod. If this was his version of an apology he had yet to win her over. Well. Professionally. “Dr. Ali Lockhart—at your service.”

      There were a number of things Aidan could have said in response, but they wouldn’t serve the purpose of his visit. He was here to begin afresh with Dr. Alexis Lockhart, the team’s new physio-surgeon with one turn-you-green-with-envy CV.

      “On paper it looks as though you’ve never taken a moment off to do anything other than study or practice medicine. When did you start? When you were twelve?”

      “Something like that.” Ali crossed her arms protectively across her chest and looked away.

      There was a story there. Maybe too much time in the science lab accounted for her wild-girl antics at the airport.

      His gaze slipped down toward Ali’s feet, stopping to note a couple of scars on her left knee. He’d not noticed them the other night—which was pretty amazing, considering the gymnastics they had achieved. His curiosity was piqued, but he looked away. He wasn’t being fair. He’d come here to apologize and now he was treating her just the way he’d insisted to the coach the players would. Like chattel.

      Coach Stone had been fairly terse when Aidan had suggested they see if they could transfer her to another team and bring in a different locum for the rest of the tournament season. One who wasn’t so easy on the eyes.

      “Not a chance.” That had been the unwavering reply. The players had taken to her straight away, Stone had said, and hiring someone else with credentials like hers at this point in the season was going to be nigh on impossible. She was staying and that was that.

      He cleared his throat and looked at Ali’s reflection in the window. Since when were lambswool boots and a mismatched set of pajamas so sexy?

      Maybe if he pictured Ali with an eye patch it would help. And a hideous perm. And a hunchback.

      “Earth to Aidan?” Ali was waving her hands in front of his face, pulling him out of an embarrassingly obvious stupor.

      “Yeah—sorry, I was just thinking.”

      “Anything you care to share?”

      Might as well go for it.

      “The elephant in the room.”

      “Which elephant would that be?” Ali smiled her hostess smile at him.

      Aidan couldn’t help returning her smile. If things were different they’d make a great pair. But they weren’t—so it was best to lay his cards on the table. The man she’d met at the airport didn’t exist in his everyday life. The man she’d met was an anomaly.

      “Well, we could talk about the big elephant—about how we slept together—or the smaller one—how you should probably clear your spare underwear and gym kit out of my desk.”

      “Oh, blimey. That’s your desk, is it?” Ali clapped her hands over her mouth.

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