The Doctor's Baby Dare. Michelle Celmer

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      He was looking at the pages she’d laid out on her craft table.

      “I couldn’t draw my way out of a paper bag. I just colored them in. It’s the new big thing in stress relief for adults.”

      “Coloring?”

      “Absolutely. There are like a million adult coloring books to choose from.”

      “No kidding. It seems a little...pointless.”

      “That’s the whole point.” She gestured to a pile of coloring books on the shelf beside her craft table. “I’ve finished all of those. I did a lot of coloring in the park last summer. And look how calm I am.”

      “Yeah,” he said with a wry smile. “You looked pretty calm in the stairwell today.”

      Of course he would point that out. But it was hard to get angry when he was flashing her that adorable grin.

      “May I?” he asked, nodding to the pile.

      No one had looked at her coloring books before. It had never even occurred to her to show them to anyone. “Go ahead, but they’re nothing special.”

      He took the top book, a panoramic foldout of a magical fairyland. “Wow, you sure do have a way with color.”

      The compliment made her feel all warm and squishy inside. “I just pick what looks right.”

      “That’s the weird thing. Normally these colors don’t even go together, but you make it seem like they do.”

      She shrugged, thinking he was making a way bigger deal about this than he should be. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. You can rave all you want and I’m still not going to sleep with you.”

      “You should frame some of these,” he said, looking through a book of flowers, ignoring her completely. Or, knowing him, he was only pretending to. She had the feeling that he didn’t miss much.

      “Why?” she asked him. “They’re not art.”

      “No, this is definitely art.”

      “Okay, but it’s someone else’s art.”

      “Yes, the shapes are already there, but the color adds dimension. It brings it to life. That’s the hardest part.”

      Maybe, maybe not. Either way, his enthusiasm was giving her warm fuzzies all over the place. Her inability to resist his charms bordered on the absurd.

      “How many finished books do you have?” he asked her, flipping through a collection of mandalas.

      She didn’t even want to go there. “Too many. I don’t get out much.”

      “Me neither,” he said, and she gave him a dubious look. “I’m serious.”

      “That’s not how I hear it.”

      “Keeping tabs on me?”

      She was making it sound that way, wasn’t she? “Word gets around. You’re reputed to have a very busy social calendar.”

      “When I first got here I was going out pretty frequently. But I was in a new place and meeting lots of new people.”

      “New women, you mean.”

      He shot her a sideways glance through the curtain of his unfairly thick lashes, then winked. He actually winked. “Be careful, Clare, you almost sound jealous.”

      Probably because she was. A little.

      He moved closer, looking like a tiger on the prowl, his eyes shining with male heat. If this were the wild, he would take her in an instant. And because it was the wild she would be helpless to stop him. He looked as if he was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to.

      His eyes locked on hers, he started to lean in, slowly, cautiously, as if he was expecting her to hit him over the head with something.

      Up until today he had been subtle but consistent. He had never pushed, exactly, but he’d made sure that she knew he was around. Something told her now that all bets were off.

Five

      Downstairs in the kitchen the kettle whistled but Clare didn’t move. She stood totally still, her eyes locked on Parker’s, the energy whirling between them electrically charged. Parker knew that he could have her right now if he wanted to. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, but half the fun of a relationship was the chase. No matter who was doing the running. And call him a megalomaniac, but it would be much more fun if she made the first move. If she came to him.

      Just for fun, he dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her chin lifted a fraction and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

      Oh, yeah, she wanted it bad.

      “Your water is boiling,” he said.

      Clare blinked several times, as if waking from a daydream. “Huh?”

      “The kettle, it’s boiling.”

      “Oh. I should probably get that,” she said, but she didn’t move. She was waiting for him to kiss her. He could feel the anticipation, see the throb of her pulse at the base of her throat.

      A wisp of dark blond hair had escaped the messy bun she wore, so he reached up and tucked the silky-soft strand back in. Clare’s breath caught and her pupils dilated, and as the tips of his fingers brushed the shell of her ear, she leaned into his palm. He realized, with spine-tingling awareness, that this was the first time he’d touched her. They had bumped shoulders or elbows a time or two while treating a patient, and he’d held her hand to pull her up on the steps today. Touching her felt exciting, and a little naughty.

      Her skin was just as smooth and soft as he thought it would be, and damn, she smelled good. He knew that if he kept touching her this way the chase would end right here, right now.

      He dropped his hand to his side. “You need a push?”

      She blinked with confusion. “A push?”

      “To get the kettle. I don’t think it’s going to turn itself off.”

      “Right, the kettle,” she said, peeling her eyes from his, taking a slightly unsteady step back. The truth was, he was feeling a little unsteady himself.

      He gestured her through the office doorway, and she shook her head. “Uh-uh. There’s no way I’m taking my eyes off you for even a second,” she said. “Next thing I know you’ll be going through my closet or something. You’re too sneaky.”

      And she was way too much fun.

      He went down first, with Clare watching him like a hawk. When they got to the kitchen, Clare shut off the burner, never once turning her back on him. Not that he blamed her.

      “I’m going to head out,” he told her.

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