Born A Hero. Paula Detmer Riggs

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ that case, Doctor, I won’t delay you a moment longer.” Without another word, he turned and stalked off with long, angry strides.

      Alone in a bathroom the size of a regular hotel room, Elliot jerked the towel from his hips, wadded it into a ball and slammed it into the shower stall. As he stepped into clean briefs, he worked to level emotions that scared him.

      “Way to go, Slick, you handled that real well,” he muttered as he dug into his shaving kit for his razor. As he slapped lather on his jaw, he forced his fractured thoughts into something resembling reason.

      During the past ten years surly had been his mood of choice, followed by rude and uncommunicative. No matter where he was or who was around him, he’d been an equal opportunity…jerk. His jaw tightened as Kate’s outraged words rang in his ears again.

      Self-involved? He tried to dispute that, but couldn’t. Not that it bothered him all that much. A man who’d had the best part of himself amputated tended to think about what was missing. In his case there wasn’t a prosthesis he could buy to replace his wife and baby girl.

      All he wanted was to be left alone. Most people got the message quickly enough. Medics Without Limits colleagues who worked with him soon learned to leave him strictly alone between assignments. No one invited him to share a meal or a beer…or a bed.

      Damn it, Kate Remson had been way out of line!

      He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken one look at a woman and wanted her beneath him naked. No, damn it, not just a woman. His sister’s best friend. The solemn little brown wren he’d come to love as much as he loved Sarah.

      Little Katie Remson, who’d always seemed to have her nose stuck in a book, had become a knockout with enough sexual wattage to short-circuit common courtesy and scramble his senses.

      No wonder he hadn’t recognized her, he consoled himself as he methodically scraped away a night’s growth of whiskers. The black-rimmed, soda-bottle glasses that had dominated her face were gone, no doubt replaced by contact lenses—or maybe she’d had one of the new surgeries designed to correct her kind of severe myopia. Whatever the reason, he had been mesmerized by those golden eyes with the curly lashes and expressive brows.

      Instead of the scraped-back ponytail or that twisted-up bun thing, her hair was now cut into one of those fashionable styles he’d first seen in Paris a few months back—like she’d just gotten out of bed after a hot and heavy night of sex. While she’d been looking up at him as if he was some kind of peasant and she was the queen, his fingers had itched to touch the soft wisps at the nape of her neck.

      But it had been her mouth that had had life returning to his groin. For about ten seconds, he’d been in real danger of embarrassing both of them, which was why he’d thrown attitude her way. And hadn’t she tossed it right back?

      Damn straight she had. Worse, she’d gotten him as worked up as a horny sixteen-year-old. Hell, the woman could wake the dead, prancing around in that slinky purple skirt that barely covered her butt. Someone ought to remind her that she was a surgeon, not a Riviera bimbo trolling for a sugar daddy.

      Damned if she didn’t have all the moves, too, he thought, scowling at the memory of that round little bottom swishing back and forth as she stalked off toward the elevators, her chin in the air and triumph glittering in her amber eyes like little gold stars.

      Memory lane, hell. He didn’t want to remember that night in the pool house any more than she did, apparently. For ten years he hadn’t wanted to remember it. Sometimes he managed to forget for months at a time, but sooner or later he would hear a soft voice or see a flash of glossy auburn hair—and then it would all come crashing down on him.

      I love you, Elliot. I’ve always loved you. Please let me give you another child. I know a baby can’t replace Lauren and I can’t replace Candy. I know you still love her, but I’ll wait, forever if I have to. Whatever you can give me now, even if it’s just physical love, is enough.

      Sweet virginal Katydid, with her painfully innocent eyes and desperate eagerness to please. He’d loved her like a second sister for most of her life, and yet he’d used her.

      The memory of the sex itself was blurred by the booze he’d drunk that night. The morning after, when he woke up in the pool house behind his parents’ home, cradled in her arms, the scent of sex mingling with the chlorine from the pool in the foggy air, he’d all but strangled on shame.

      It was that shame that had made him cruel, compounding his sins. He’d lost count of the nights he’d drunk himself into oblivion after that. Dozens, hundreds, it hadn’t much mattered. Everywhere he’d looked, he’d run into a memory.

      Finally he’d taken a leave of absence from medical school and hit the road, ending up in Alaska, where he’d worked on a shrimp boat to earn his keep. It had been brutally hard work, taxing his strength and straining his muscles. By the end of three months, he’d regained the weight he’d lost, most of it muscle layered over his chest and arms.

      At the end of shrimping season, he’d gone back to medical school, because that’s what his wife would have wanted. He’d told himself he was healed, but he knew better. He was little more than a shell, with a hollow space where his heart was supposed to be.

      Katie was right to want nothing to do with him now, he thought as he morosely wiped the last of the lather from his face. He would only hurt her again if he got the chance. He wouldn’t want to. He would try his damnedest not to, but sooner or later it would happen. Candy and Lauren had trusted him to keep them safe from hurt, and they’d died. Katie had trusted him with her heart, and he’d stripped her of her virginity and her pride.

      It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Elliot Hunter was poison to those he cared about—and he did care about Katie, as much as a man with most of his heart cut away could.

      Whatever she wanted, that’s what he would give her. He owed her that, at least.

      After stalking away from Elliot moments earlier, Katherine realized she was holding her breath, and let it out as she turned toward the elevator lobby. It was only when she was safely in the limousine that she allowed her shoulders to slump.

      As the limo carried her through the narrow streets of Montebello, a sense of unreality came over her. She couldn’t believe the chain of events that had brought her and Elliot to this majestic island in the eastern Mediterranean. She had no idea what part of the world Elliot had been holed up in before he received the call from his father, but one week ago she’d been in dusty, hot Baja California, hyperventilating her way through a serious makeover she’d known without question would be a miserable failure. Her only worry then had been how fast her hair would grow back after Señor Jose Miguel had finished whacking off several inches….

      Chapter 2

      Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, California;

       two days earlier

      The shiny gilt letters on the door spelled out the name of the boutique in the same ornate script gracing the bottle of the obscenely expensive perfume sold at the desk and wafting through the ventilation system. Salsa pulsed through the small, but opulent fitting room, as hot and steamy as its Latin origin.

      Alone in the fitting room, Kate stared at her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was a perfect stranger.

      A goddess.

      A СКАЧАТЬ