Impossible to Resist. Janice Maynard

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      “Your color scheme,” she complained, wrinkling her nose with disgust. “It’s like a morgue in here. Black and white and stainless steel. And from what I saw of your house, more of the same. What’s the deal?”

      Jacob had never really thought about it, but what she said was true. Her petal-pink dress was the only spot of color in the room. He put a stethoscope around his neck. “Medical research requires extreme cleanliness. I suppose it’s a habit.”

      Ariel rolled her eyes and sat up straight. “There’s a difference between sanitary and institutional. You’re rich. Spring for some throw pillows for Pete’s sake.”

      He put his left hand on her shoulder and with his right, placed the cold metal disk over her heart, just at the slope of her breast. “This isn’t Club Med. Breathe naturally.”

      Ariel froze.

      He moved the stethoscope. “Don’t hold your breath.” Her heartbeat was steady, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Moving around to her back, he said, “Breathe in and out.”

      She cooperated. Her skin was warm, even through the fabric of her dress. Inwardly, Jacob quaked, stunned by how much he wanted to lean down and trace the line of her spine with his tongue. His usual interactions with actual patients were impersonal. Professional. Businesslike.

      But in Ariel’s presence, his brain and his body rebelled. He’d had courses in medical ethics. Never in his life had he been tempted to test the limits of what was decent and right. She had come to him for help. The fact that he could imagine her naked was irrelevant.

      He stepped back, out of her line of vision. “Heart and lungs sound fine,” he said hoarsely. The feel of her soft resilient skin was burned into his palm. “The most important thing will be the blood work.”

      Ariel flinched visibly. Unable to help himself, he put a hand on her arm. “I’ll be quick. Don’t watch. Turn your head away.”

      She craned her neck to see him gathering several empty vials. “This is where a tasteful Monet might come in handy. Something for a focal point.”

      He chuckled. “You’re not in labor. Close your eyes if you have to.”

      Her expression was morose. “That makes it worse.”

      Jacob readied the needle, keeping it out of sight. “Tell me about your trip to the Amazon,” he coaxed. “And keep your eyes on the cabinet over there.”

      “Okay.” Her voice hit a high squeak. She was more than jumpy, she was terrified. Shaking, even.

      He stroked her arm. “Relax, Ariel. All you’ll feel is a little sting. I need you to make a fist.” With deft movements, he inserted the needle in a vein at the crook of her arm and started filling the first tube.

      She made a funny muffled sound and her body went limp. It all happened so quickly, Jacob barely had time to react. He caught her as she fell, but the needle popped loose and blood spurted, spattering her dress and his clothes with modernistic flair.

      “Damn it.” He eased her back onto the table, determining that despite her extreme pallor she was in no immediate danger. It seemed prudent to grab another needle and get the blood samples before she came to. No point in torturing her.

      When he had what he needed, he took a small towel, wet it and dabbed her face and throat. “Wake up, Ariel. Wake up. It’s all over.”

      Finally, her long lashes lifted, eyes the color of gentians gazing at him with confused supplication. “What happened?”

      “You fainted.”

      “Sorry,” she muttered, struggling to sit up.

      He held her down. “Take it easy. No need to rush.”

      She extended one arm, squeezing her eyes shut. “Go ahead,” she said through gritted teeth. “Do it. I’ll be okay this time.”

      He stroked her cheek, smiling in spite of his concern about her general health. “I’m finished.”

      One eye opened. “What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously. “I thought you had to fill several vials.”

      He slid an arm beneath her and slowly lifted her upright. She smelled like sunshine and sweet peas. He inhaled the scent and told himself it didn’t go to his head. “I took the blood samples while you were out cold. It seemed like the thing to do.”

      “That’s a little creepy.” Ariel smoothed her hair with both hands and straightened her skirt, rubbing ineffectually at the blood spots.

      He stared at her. “Creepy? I was trying to be helpful.”

      “Why are we both covered in blood?”

      Her suspicious gaze ruffled him. “It’s only a few spots. When you keeled over, the needle popped out.”

      “Hmm. Maybe you should hire a nurse. This doesn’t seem to be your strong suit.”

      Jacob counted to ten. “Has anyone ever told you you’re impertinent?”

      Her grin weakened his knees. “Every day, Doc. Every day.”

      “Would you like to change clothes?” he asked abruptly, vastly afraid that he had no control over this situation at all.

      “If you’re offering a paper gown, the answer is no.”

      Ignoring her levity, he cleaned up the mess, replaced his instruments, and labeled the tubes of blood. “How many times a year do you give blood?” he asked.

      “As often as they’ll let me. Every few months.”

      “Why?” He was genuinely puzzled.

      She nibbled her lower lip, glancing up at him through lowered lashes. “I have a rare blood type,” she said simply. “It’s important.”

      And just like that, any last qualms he had about his decision disappeared. Any woman who was tough enough to face down a daunting fear in order to do the right thing deserved his help. Her spunk and “spit-in-the-wind” courage disarmed him as completely as her stunning beauty unmanned him.

      He would agree to her proposition. But his emotions wouldn’t become involved. He wouldn’t allow it. Ariel Dane was his patient. And she was far too young for him. Eight years might as well be twenty. Her delicate spirit needed protection, and he was the man to shield her from the world both physically and emotionally.

      Only one other woman in his life had drawn from him such an urgent need to play the white knight. And though she had been the light of his world, Jacob had failed her. By the time Diane’s diagnosis was confirmed, restoring her health had been impossible. All Jacob had been able to do for her was offer his love and support through weeks of painful treatments and then hold her hand when she breathed her last breath.

      Never would he put himself in that position again. It was far too painful. This time, he was prepared for his role. Doctor, protector, friend. This time, the outcome would be different.

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