“I never admitted our prices were overinflated.” Prices were the last thing on his mind right now. He looked around them as he pulled her close. “You’ve got no witnesses. You can’t prove anything.”
Her pupils widened as she felt the effect of exactly how his body was reacting through the thin fabric of her costume.
“Maybe we should give the rest of the schmoozing a miss and move to the main event.” Her voice sounded raspy. Like a magnet, his eyes drifted downward to the small peaks now visible against the slinky folds of material.
He bent forward and murmured in her ear. “Please tell me you’re wearing lingerie under that thing.” Any other kind of thought was mind-boggling.
“Yes. Yes I definitely am. But maybe it’s not doing its job too well.”
He grabbed her hand. “Enough. Let’s go.”
He pulled her across the crowded grand hall, heading straight toward the exit. Typical, as they bulldozed toward the door, about ten people tried to stop him and say hello. Colt kept his cool, nodding on the way past. “Hi, Mr. Dawson, Taylor, Mrs. Kepler, Francis. Sorry, Noah, can’t stop—it’s a bit of an emergency.”
There was a pop as they crossed the room, followed by another and a burst of hysterical laughter from Magdalena. Colt’s thighs were burning, and he could hear the scurry of Selena’s hurried footsteps behind him. They didn’t need to stop and witness the show.
The cool night air hit them as they emerged from the bustling foyer. Colt handed his ticket to the valet and prayed it wouldn’t take him all night to maneuver the truck back out.
“So, Selena.” He pulled her close. “How about we head back to—”
A buzz cut him off midsentence. It took a few seconds to realize what it was. He looked down. Hidden in among his blaster and other Han Solo accouterments was his pager. Squealing loudly and vibrating furiously. The reason he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight—he was on call. He resisted the temptation to groan.
Selena pulled back a little. “What’s wrong? Is it an emergency? Will you have to go?”
He walked back into the foyer and pressed on his cell phone. “Hi, it’s Cole Travers. You paged me?”
“Hi, Dr. Travers, it’s Lydia at Helen’s House. We’ve a young woman and her son just brought in by the police after a domestic-abuse incident. We’re still waiting for them to arrest the husband. The woman has some facial injuries, would you be able to assess her?”
“Yes, yes no problem. I can be right there.”
Lydia hesitated. “I’m only guessing, but I think she might need some stitches.”
“Oh, okay. Well, in that case, can you take her to Seacliffe and I’ll meet you there?” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll be there in around thirty minutes. I’ll call one of my nurses in.”
“No problem. Thanks, Dr. Travers.”
He sighed and cut the call, dialing another number to set off his nurse’s pager. The timing couldn’t be worse. All he really wanted to do was get Selena out of here and see what lay beneath Princess Leia’s costume. But Colt would always be a doctor first and foremost. He would never ignore his duty of care.
He turned to Selena. “You’ll have heard most of that. It’s Helen’s House. One of their clients has had her face burst open by her husband. Normally, I’d go there to do it. But her husband is hanging around, the police haven’t picked him up yet, so it’s not safe. One of the staff is going to meet us at Seacliffe with her. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course it is. You’re a doctor. Somebody needs you.” She gave him a measured look, one that made him hold his breath and wonder what could happen later.
The valet pulled up with the truck. And quickly they both climbed in.
A few minutes later, they were roaring along the highway. He reached over and put his hand on her thigh. “This shouldn’t take long. I should be able to stitch it as soon as she arrives.”
Selena gave him a little smile. “It’s okay. I can wait,” she said, and turned her head to watch the dark night sky whizz past.
Colt focused on the road ahead. The palm of his hand was tingling where it had connected with her thigh. He knew what both expected to happen tonight. It was practically written in the stars up above. But how would Selena react to what lay underneath his costume? Would she be like some of the others before and expect perfection from a plastic surgeon?
Because if she did, she would be sorely disappointed. And he might find out she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.
…
Her stomach was churning with nerves. Her heart ached for the poor woman injured from Helen’s House, but a little part of her felt relieved that now she didn’t have to lie to Colt about where she was staying.
She could wait until he was finished with his patient and then claim she would make her own way home. Perfect.
“Selena? Where are you?”
“Out here. Watching the stars.” She was sitting out on the deck, a glass of water in her hand, lying on one of the spa loungers. She’d never sat out here at night before, always hiding away in one of the cottages. This was much more relaxing.
They were finally alone. Colt had spoken to one of the guards on the phone before he arrived, saying he would be working late and the guard could go home.
Colt came and stood at the concertina doors she’d pulled back next to the swimming pool. He leaned on the doorjamb. “How many alarms did you set off doing this?”
She was fixating on his muscular arms only half-hidden by the Han Solo costume. “None. I have friends in high places.”
He crossed out from the warm lights of the spa into the dark blue night next to her and sat at the bottom of her recliner.
“How is your patient?”
“She’s fine. The police called to let us know they’ve picked up her husband. It was safe for her to go back to Helen’s House.”
Her stomach gave a little flutter. “So, we’re all alone?”
“We’re all alone.” It might be her imagination, but his voice sound huskier than ever. He touched her leg. “You know, there’s something that’s been driving me crazy all night.”
“And what might that be?”
“These.” He ran his hand along her leg, caressing her calf where the gold strands from her gladiator sandals wound up her skin.
His touch was making her nerve endings go wild.
“And these…” He touched her star-covered toes. “I’m not entirely sure how authentic these are. I’m sure Princess Leia wore white boots.”
“Yeah, well, I made my own costume, so I needed a bit of artistic license.”
“You made your own costume? Really?” He sounded so surprised. But then again, money wasn’t an issue for him. His Han Solo costume cost a few hundred dollars he probably hadn’t thought twice about spending.
She moved toward him. “It appears I’m a woman of hidden talents. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.” She was taunting him. Teasing him. Because she loved the effect she could have on him.
Colt bent over her, putting a hand on either side of her hips. “Well, I think it’s about time I did something to remedy that.”
He’d taken the whole costume thing seriously. There were tiny bristles of stubble on his chin. She reached out and touched them. “I like the authentic touch,” she whispered, “but stubble can be really abrading on the skin, especially in sensitive areas. You’ll need to handle me with care.”
His eyes widened and the already darkened pupils dilated. She pushed one of his hands to the side and stood up, leaving him to lie back on the recliner. Was she really going to do this? She could feel the cool evening breeze dancing across her skin. It was blowing her costume against her, leaving the effects on her body clearly visible. Every hair on her skin was currently standing on end, heat pooling between her thighs and her breasts aching against the thin fabric.
She quickly glanced over her shoulder. No security cameras on the deck. There was no one else here. The spa was empty. They had a w
orld of privacy.
She tugged at one side of her costume and let it fall silently in a puddle on the ground, leaving her standing in only her gladiator sandals and white lingerie.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel self-conscious about her curves. She wanted him to admire her breasts and hips. She wanted to feel his hands on her ass. And from the expression on his face, so did he.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Selena?”