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Impossible to Resist
Janice Maynard









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Her arms curled around his neck as his mouth moved over hers.

“We have to talk,” he said hoarsely. He was no longer able to pretend he could resist her. It was painfully apparent that he would succumb to Ariel’s sexual invitation … and soon.

But first there were things she needed to know.

She reached beneath his shirt and ran her palm over his chest. Ariel touching him made a mockery of all his resolutions and high ideals. He wanted her. He needed her. Whether he called it gratification or disaster, the result would be the same. Ariel … beneath him, calling his name as he made love to her.

When her fingernail scraped lightly over his nipple, he jerked.

Ariel laughed, the sexy, knowing laugh of a woman who acknowledged her power. “I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.” She kissed him again, and her tongue mated with his. “But then again, sometimes actions speak louder than words.”


Dear Reader,

One of the great things about being an author is getting to make up stories in your head. If I hadn’t turned out to be a writer, I think I would have loved working in the movie industry. Like books, the cinema screen invites us to stop, put aside our busy lives and immerse ourselves in other times and places.

My actress heroine, Ariel, is privileged in many ways. But she is facing great trials ahead. Though she is plucky and independent, even a capable woman can use the support and comfort of a man who is strong, honorable and protective.

Jacob deals in reality. And falling in love with Ariel comes under the category of fantasy. But beneath a tropical moon, this intense, compassionate Wolff discovers that sometimes a man loses all control when the woman he wants is Impossible to Resist.

Don’t forget to visit www.WolffMountain.com for bonus content about all things Wolff.

See you on the mountain!

Janice Maynard




About the Author


JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Mills & Boon family—a lifelong dream, by the way!

Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website at www.janicemaynard.com or e-mail her at JESM13@aol.com. And of course, don’t forget Facebook (www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReaderPage). Find her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/JaniceMaynard and visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.




Impossible

to Resist

Janice Maynard





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Judy Flohr—

Thanks for all you do to support authors, books and

your wide circle of friends! You are a special woman!




One


Jacob Wolff had seen more than his share of naked women. He knew the female body inside and out. After all, he was a doctor.

But when Ariel Dane set foot in his office, fully clothed, he reacted like a man, not a physician.

Jacob retreated behind his pewter-colored metal desk and motioned for her to sit. “Make yourself comfortable, Ms. Dane.”

She might as well have been deaf for all the notice she afforded his pleasantries. With quick, nervous steps, she approached the broad picture window and stared out at the forest, her hands clasped behind her back.

Jacob took the opportunity to study her. She was thin, too thin. But that was no doubt the influence of Hollywood. Ariel Dane was a star. And seeing her in the flesh for the first time, he understood why. She was exquisite. Ethereal.

Her pale blond hair often flowed across the pillow of a leading man. Today it was confined in a simple ponytail. The severe style lent emphasis to her finely-drawn features, and drew attention to the delicate curve of the nape of her neck.

Jacob shifted restlessly, leaning back in his chair. The silence didn’t bother him. She would speak when she was ready. What disturbed him was the way his sex stirred and his breathing quickened. He had not been with a woman in years. But that meant nothing. He’d learned to subdue his sexuality at will. Rarely did he allow his body to best him. Now, in the presence of a woman whose image had no doubt fueled a million male fantasies, he found that he was human after all.

Her silence outlasted his curiosity. “How did you know to contact me, Ms. Dane?”

She half turned, finally deigning to answer, her expression pensive. “You know Jeremy Vargas, don’t you? The actor?”

“Slightly. My new sister-in-law, Olivia, is a close friend of his.”

She nodded, returning her gaze to the lush jungle of hardwood trees, rhododendron and laurel. “He saw me at a party recently and told me I looked like sh—”

She stopped short. He saw her shoulders tense.

Turning to face him, she winced. “Sorry. Let’s just say that Jeremy was not particularly flattering in his assessment of my current attractiveness. He told me I should come to see you. Insisted on giving me your contact information.”

“There are doctors in Hollywood.”

She lifted her chin, her expression hunted. “Jeremy says that because of what your family has endured from the press over the years, you’re unfailingly discreet. Was he wrong? I’m well aware that a copy of my medical records would fetch a handy sum from the paparazzi. I have nowhere else to turn. No one else I can trust completely.”

“I don’t need your money, Ms. Dane. And my family and I have no great fondness for the gutter press. So yes, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Thank you.” A tiny, hiccupped sob escaped her throat. “You don’t know what that means to me.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. The pale-pink silk shirtdress she wore halted just above her knees and displayed a pair of slim, spectacular legs. The thin fabric outlined pert, though small, breasts. If she wore a bra, it was flimsy, because he could see the outline of her nipples.

His throat dried, and he cursed inwardly. Get a grip, Jacob.

“I have to tell you, Ms. Dane, that I don’t have much experience with eating disorders. But I could refer you to a private facility.”

Shock flashed across her face. “I must look worse than I thought.”

Her voice didn’t match her fragile appearance. It was low and husky and made a man think about sex. Which was, perhaps, part of the reason her career had skyrocketed. After a string of well-paid childhood gigs, she’d landed her first “adult” starring role at seventeen.

“You are incredibly lovely,” he said, his tone deliberately devoid of emotion. “But clearly, you are ill. It’s my job to notice things like that.”

She cocked her head, staring at him with an intensity that made him sweat beneath his crisp white dress shirt. Humor seasoned her words. “I love milkshakes, greasy fries and pizza. My metabolism runs at full tilt. And I hate to throw up. I don’t have an eating disorder.” A tiny, but recognizable, grin lifted the corners of her unadorned mouth. “Show me a plate of junk food, and I’ll prove it to you.”

Relief flooded his stomach. Anorexia and bulimia were damned serious. And not really his area of expertise.

But then another, even less palatable thought occurred to him. Was she addicted to recreational drugs? Her reputation was no secret, even for a man who lived in self-imposed exile. Party girl. Serial dater. Shallow princess.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the media loved to exaggerate both the good and the bad. So he would give her the benefit of the doubt. “Speaking of food,” he said. “Would you like something? I can provide light fare here, or a quick call up the hill will net us something fancy.”

“I’m fine.” Now she prowled, picking up a book here, a photo there. She stopped, holding a framed image that was one of his favorites. “Who’s this?”

“My brothers and I. When we were teenagers. Dad let us do a rafting trip on the Colorado. As far as I know, it was our only true vacation.”

“Why?” she asked, frowning. “Is he super frugal?”

“It wasn’t a question of money. Our mother and our aunt were kidnapped and killed when we were young. My father lived in fear that his children would be targets.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, huge periwinkle eyes filled with distress. “I’ve heard bits and pieces about your family’s struggles, of course, but meeting you makes it seem more real.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Most people know the story. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

Good lord. She hadn’t even been born when the Wolffs suffered their very public tragedy.

Her eyes narrowed. “I sent you all that info in my email. Every bit of your incredibly thorough seven-page form.”

“My fault entirely. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” The message had only come through on his computer the evening before. “I’ll read it over later.” He was rarely inclined to get personal with a patient. But for some reason, he wanted to reassure her. “We have more in common than you might think, Ms. Dane. My family has been the target of the paparazzi for years, ever since my mother and aunt were murdered. The perpetrators were never caught, so occasionally the story surfaces again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone formal. “And I know I should have waited for you to contact me about an appointment. But I don’t have much time.”

His stomach pitched in irrational fear. “You already have a diagnosis?”

She nodded, pacing the length of the room. As she moved, he scanned her body for evidence of a terminal illness. Though she could stand to gain twenty pounds, her color was good, and he could see no immediate sign that cancer had ravaged her body.

Thinking about it made his gut clench with terror. He fought back the memories and inhaled a sharp breath. “Are you dealing with addiction or something worse?” The words came out bluntly and sounded more judgmental than he had intended.

She froze, halfway between his desk and the door. Approaching him slowly, she sank into the chair he had offered and frowned. “My God, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”

With only inches separating them, he was close enough to detect hints of lavender and gray in her clear irises. In a black-and-white film, she could have been a younger Ingrid Bergman. Her beauty was timeless, classic. Unfortunately, most movie directors chose to turn her into a sexed-up nymphet for their summer blockbusters.

Jacob kept his pose casual, though his emotions were anything but at the moment. “I can’t help you if I don’t know the truth.”

Her hands were graceful, long fingers bare, the nails French-manicured. She wore no jewelry there, not even a watch. The only adornment she had allowed herself was a modest pair of diamond stud earrings that caught the light when she moved her head.

Her gaze skittered away as if disconcerted by his visual examination. She sighed, her hands resting on the arms of the chair. “I’ve been told that you see only high-profile patients whose utmost need is privacy.”

“Yes.”

“So you understand why I need your help.”

“I understand the need for discretion. I’ve yet to hear your actual reason for coming to me.”

Without waiting for an answer, she rose to her feet and paced again. “Why did you become a doctor?” she asked, her back toward him.

Jacob swallowed, fighting the urge to draw her back to the chair so he could inhale her scent. “When my mother was killed, I remember crying and asking my father why the doctors didn’t do something. At the time, I didn’t really understand that she had died instantly of a gunshot wound. Dad told me no one could have saved her.”

Ariel faced him, eyes shadowed with concern. “But you didn’t buy that?”

Jacob shrugged. “I was a little kid. I decided then and there that I would become a doctor so other families wouldn’t have to deal with the heartache that was tearing us apart.”

“Sweet.”

“But misguided.”

“Surely you realize that your healing skills are valuable.”

“Doctors are not gods, despite what some of my colleagues might believe. We run the numbers, make our best guesses, and pray.”

“Why do you do it, then, if you’re so dubious of your worth?”

“I know what it’s like to have no private life, to have the whole world speculating, sometimes even lying, about those I love. So when I can help people who can’t go anywhere else for medical care, I provide a service. When I’m not seeing patients, my passion is leukemia research. I have the time and the money to make a difference there.”

“Why leukemia specifically?”

“When I was six or seven, my best friend, other than my cousins and siblings, was the son of a man who was in charge of the stables and all our animals. The boy’s name was Eddie. He was diagnosed with leukemia, and despite the fact that my father and uncle brought in the very best doctors and paid for every available treatment, Eddie died at the age of eight. I already knew, even then, that I wanted to be a doctor. Later in life, the memory of losing Eddie fine-tuned my medical training.”

“That’s very admirable.”

He shrugged. “I love my work. But it’s not glamorous.” He stopped and grinned. “At least not until today.”

Ariel ignored his compliment. “And what about the poor and not so famous?”

“If you’re talking about medical care in general, I can assure you that the Wolff family invests heavily in Doctors Without Borders. My brother Kieran and I have built several clinics on our own both here and abroad. You needn’t feel guilty that accessing my services makes you some kind of prima donna.”

The tiny grin reappeared. “Too late for that. I’m a spoiled, promiscuous bitch, didn’t you know?”

Beneath the flip words he heard pain. “Does it bother you? The constant scrutiny?”

Small white teeth worried her lower lip. “It shouldn’t by now. God knows I’ve had years to get used to it.”

“But it stings.”

Her gaze locked with his; her long-lashed eyes filled with tears. “Understatement, Doc.”

She visibly shook off her distress, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.

He offered her a box of tissues. “Sit down, Miss Dane. Please.”

“Call me Ariel.” She sank into the chair once again, kicked off her flat silver sandals, and tucked her feet beneath her.

Jacob tried not to notice the way her skirt rode up her toned, shapely thighs. “It’s a pretty name. And not very common.”

She leaned forward, one elbow on the desk, head resting on her hand. “The Little Mermaid was my mom’s favorite movie when I was born.”

“But you’re blonde. The real Ariel was a redhead.” Even as he said it, he scoffed at himself. Hair color in Hollywood changed with the tide and the seasons.

“Didn’t matter. And yes,” she said, seeming to read his thoughts. “I am a natural blonde, not that anyone cares. I’ve never dyed my hair for a part. Though I have worn wigs.”

“Why draw the line there? I thought most actresses would do anything for a plum role.”

“I always heard that blondes have more fun. I guess I’m still waiting to see if that’s true.”

He heard the self-derisive note in her voice. The wry cynicism made her appear far older than her years.

“Don’t you enjoy what you do?”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect job, Dr. Wolff. I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

“You’ve got me there.” He inched back in his chair, her closeness making him re-evaluate his Hippocratic Oath. Becoming this woman’s medical provider was not a realistic option. Not when he was already wondering if those soft pink lips tasted as good as they looked. “Are you ready to tell me why you’ve come to Wolff Mountain?” he asked, growing impatient and itchy to be done with this awkward though tantalizing interview.

“Tell me about this place,” she demanded, clearly stalling. “I caught a glimpse of the main house through the trees. It looks like a castle.”

“We call it that on occasion,” he admitted. “But growing up, it was just home.”

“Pretty amazing home. Acres and acres of wilderness. Tucked away in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Private drive a million miles long. Not bad at all.”

“It was a prison growing up.” He stopped short, nearly biting his tongue with the force of his about-face. Patients were patients. Not confidantes. “I think we need to get back to you, Ms. Dane.” She shot him a warning glance, and he backpedaled. “Ariel. And you might as well call me Jacob.”

“What if I prefer Dr. Wolff?”

He scowled, confused and aroused and frustrated with himself. “I thought that movie industry professionals preferred informality.”

“I’d rather maintain a bit of distance with a man who might see me naked.”

Naked? He gulped. “I think you’ve made a trip for nothing, Ariel. I can’t help you.”

She sat up, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t told you what’s wrong with me yet.”

“Are you going to?” He sounded gruff, even to his own ears.

“Why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry,” he corrected with pedantic exactitude. “I’m busy. I was in the midst of a project when you arrived.”

“Most men make time for me.”

He didn’t doubt it for an instant. “I thought you wanted a doctor, not a man.”

“Maybe I want both.”

His jaw ached as he ground his teeth. “I think we’re talking at cross purposes, Ariel. Do you or do you not want to tell me why you’re here?”

Her pale skin flushed. It would be years before she needed plastic surgery to remain competitive in her line of work. She was the epitome of dewy youth, down to the faint smattering of freckles that lightly dusted the curves of her cheeks.

She hung her head, projecting defeat and resignation. Was it an act designed to make him rush to reassure her?

“Ariel?” He sighed inwardly. At eight years her senior, give or take a few months, he should be able to control the conversation better than this. And he damn sure should be able to withstand the effects of eyes designed by their creator to drive a man crazy. She was barely legal. “Talk to me,” he coaxed. “Whatever you say will remain in this room, even if you don’t become my patient. I swear.”

The tip of her tongue came out to wet her lips. Her head lifted, revealing an expression that was indecipherable. “I need to hire you for the next two months,” she said, tossing it out there without ceremony.

He frowned, struggling to understand. “As your doctor?”

She winced, wriggling in her seat, exposing another three inches of thigh. “As my boyfriend.”




Two


Ariel groaned inwardly. That could have gone better. She’d tipped her hand clumsily and far too soon. But there was something about Jacob Wolff that threw her off balance.

For one thing, he was nothing like she had imagined. She’d been expecting a fortysomething, lab-coat-clad father figure wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Someone she could pour her heart out to in comfort.

Jacob Wolff was young, seriously hot and made her nervous as hell. His gray-eyed gaze was X-ray-like, exposing her in ways that made auditioning for a part seem like a walk in the park.

His short-cropped black hair was styled in a no-nonsense fashion, as was the plain but expensive hand-tailored shirt he wore. Broad shoulders strained the seams of the garment. It was tucked into dark slacks that showcased his flat belly and hard thighs.

Ariel spent her days surrounded by handsome men. Men who made their living with the help of six-pack abs honed in a gym. But Jacob Wolff was real in a way unmatched by most males of her acquaintance. His calm confidence and unsmiling intensity were sexy and appealing.

At the moment, he could not have been less encouraging. His brows drew together in a fierce scowl, and his body language signaled his wish to end what was proving to be an embarrassing interlude.

He cleared his throat. “Forgive me if I don’t understand. Your boyfriend?”

His incredulity made heat rise from her throat to her cheeks. “I realize that boyfriend is a fairly juvenile term. You’re a mature man.”

A trace of pique flittered across his face. “As in old? Trust me, Ariel. I’m well aware that I’m facing down thirty while you are a mere child.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “I’m no innocent. They eat babies for lunch in Hollywood. I had to grow up fast.”

“You look about sixteen.”

“Well, I’m not. No one would second-guess us as a couple. My mother says I’m an old soul.”

“We’re wandering away from the point. Again. Why do you need a boyfriend? Aren’t you dating that rapper?”

“It was a publicity photo. I’m surprised you saw it.” She was also intrigued.

“I may live like a hermit, but even decrepit men like me have moved beyond rotary phones and dial-up internet. You’re in the news every other day. Haven’t you noticed?”

His quick, wry smile made her stomach flip. “I don’t read the entertainment news.”

“Shocking, Ms. Dane. Shocking.” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands over his trim waist. “It’s a good thing I don’t charge by the hour. You’re not very good at this doctor/patient thing.”

“Well, you suck at being a boyfriend.”

He shrugged. “You’re dumping me already?” A long, exaggerated sigh made his chest rise and fall. “Story of my life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t imagine any woman dumping you. Surely you’ve had your share of serious relationships?”

His face closed up, every nuance of expression wiped away. The quick but conspicuous glance at his watch was designed to put her in her place. “Either be honest with me, Ariel, or leave.”

I have more important things to do. The unspoken subtext made her skin flame with color a second time. “I’m ill,” she said quietly, knowing beyond a doubt that she had wasted a trip. Jacob Wolff was not the kind of man to be manipulated by feminine wiles.

He went still, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Is this a joke? I feel like we’re in a play and you forgot to give me my lines.”

She picked at a spot of lint on her skirt. “You’re rather intimidating, you know. Aren’t doctors supposed to have good bedside manners?”

Again, a flash of that sexy smile. Its rarity made it even more compelling. “We’re not in bed, Ariel. Keep talking,” he insisted. “You’re on a roll.”

“It’s true,” she whispered, her throat tight. The way he said the word bed made her all shivery inside. “I’m sick. That’s why I need you to be my boyfriend.”

Perhaps he realized how close she was to breaking down, because his voice gentled. “Start at the beginning. I won’t judge and I won’t interrupt. I promise. I want to help you, Ariel. You can trust me.”

The room seemed far too silent suddenly. And annoyingly stuffy. Ariel wanted to throw open the windows and let in fresh air along with the sounds of the forest. But the room wasn’t hers to command. So she resisted. Barely.

She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. If he wanted to begin with Act One, who was she to complain? “I took my mother to the Amazon a few months ago. She’s been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer, and I wanted us to go on one last trip while she was still able to manage it.”

Jacob’s gaze was watchful. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Ariel waved a careless hand, feeling anew the pinch of grief. “She’s made her peace with dying.”

“And what about you?”

Her throat closed up painfully, making it impossible to speak for several long seconds. “I’m getting there. It’s been just the two of us for most of my life, so you’ll understand when I say that I can’t imagine my world without her.”

“I’ve read somewhere that she was responsible for putting you in commercials when you were little. Is that true?”

“Yes. Most people assume it was for the money … since my father walked out on us.”

“But you disagree?”

“The money helped. I know that. But I think it was her way of giving me options. She had very few financial resources. But one of her cousins was a talent scout, and she asked him to help her get me started in the industry.”

“Did you ever resent her for that?”

Ariel laughed, caught off guard by his assumption. “Oh, God no. I was a ham from the very beginning. I loved the limelight, the applause, the crowds. Acting gave me validation.”

“But you never went to college, right? You’ve worked straight through?”

Was that criticism she heard in his voice? Or was she being way too sensitive? “I’ve done two movies a year since I turned fourteen, sometimes three. So no, my education ended rather abruptly with a high school diploma. Besides, I wasn’t that good a student anyway, so it was no great loss. And I make plenty of money as it is. Getting a degree would have been a waste of time.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked quietly.

Stunned at his perspicacity, she bit her lip. “Now you’re wandering off topic,” she said pointedly, ignoring his question.

He held up his hands. “Duly noted. Please continue.”

“My mother loves to travel. So when I became successful, I started working on her bucket list during breaks in my schedule. We’ve been to Paris and Rome and Johannesburg and—well, lots of places.”

“Was the trip to the Amazon a success? Did her strength hold out?”

“My mother was a rock. I’m the one who got sick.”

His gaze sharpened. “What happened?”

“We’d been there almost five weeks. It was time to go home. I came down with malaria.”

“You didn’t take medication before you left?”

“I did, but apparently the particular strain I contracted was resistant. I honestly don’t remember much of those three or four days. It was terrible. My mother was so scared. We had hired a guide through a travel service, and he was great. But we were in the middle of the jungle and I was too sick to move. Makimba found a tribal medicine man who treated me.”

“Good Lord.” Jacob sat up, expression aghast. “You could have died.”

“Believe me, I know. But whatever combination of herbal remedies and witch doctor mumbo jumbo he used finally worked. I was weak as a kitten when it was over, but I turned the corner.”

“What happened then?”

She shrugged. “We came home. I was slated to do voiceovers for a character in an animated film. Fortunately, that was studio work in L.A., so I could be in my own bed every night. And the schedule was not as arduous as if I had been in the midst of shooting a regular movie.”

“You need blood tests,” he said urgently. “To identify the exact parasite and to determine what schedule of medication is appropriate. Have you had any of that?”

She winced. “No.”

“Why in the hell not? Jesus Christ, Ariel. This isn’t something to fool around with.” He was almost shouting.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said evenly, projecting as much dignity as she could muster in the face of his disapproval. “I had another flare-up three weeks ago. Not as bad as the first, but still pretty awful. I can’t go to a regular doctor and risk any of this information getting out.”

“Why? It’s not as if you need rehab. You’re ill. What’s the big deal?” His genuine puzzlement was evident.

“In ten days I will start shooting a movie that could change my career forever. Everyone who has read the script agrees that it’s the kind of picture that will generate Oscar buzz. I beat out five other A-list actresses to get the part. If word leaks out that I might become incapacitated in the midst of filming, they could take it away from me.”

“And your career is more important than your health?” Now he blasted her with both criticism and sarcasm. Silvery gray eyes glittered, spearing her with his disgust.

“Back off,” she said heatedly. She leaned toward him, furious with his imperious dismissal of her motives. “You don’t know the slightest thing about my life or my circumstances. It’s a good thing you don’t see patients often, ‘cause I gotta tell you, Doc. You’re an arrogant pig.”

They hovered there like that for half a minute, their faces almost touching, fury arcing between them like a renegade lightning bolt. She could see the rapid heartbeat in his tanned neck, could smell his expensive aftershave.

Amazingly, he was the first one to back down. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I promised I would listen without judgment and without interrupting, and I managed neither. Please go on.”

Ariel, primed for battle, was unwillingly disarmed. How rare was it to find a man who knew how to apologize? And yet somehow, he still managed to project an air of absolute superiority that set her teeth on edge. Forced to accept his regret at face value, she settled back into her seat.

“I love what I do,” she said. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about the possibilities. I’ve played so many blonde bimbo parts, I wonder sometimes if the character is taking over. But beyond the professional perks of this new role, I have to be honest. The money this movie will make is no small consideration. My mother has no health insurance. I’m paying for all her bills.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. But even more than that, I want this for my mother. She’s had to read all the bad press about me. The stuff they invent, the disparaging remarks. For once, I want to make her proud. She cried when I told her I landed this part.”

Jacob Wolff sat in silence, his sharp-featured masculine face giving away no hint of his thought process. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t argue with your motives, but I have a hunch that your mother is already proud of you. It sounds like the two of you are very close.”

“We are.” The words whispered from a throat squeezed by the inescapable knowledge that sometime very soon, Ariel Dane was going to be all alone in the world. She shoved the melancholy thought aside. “So to continue … I have to make this movie. But another bout of malaria is the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. I’d like to hire you as my ‘on location’ physician for the duration of filming.”

“Won’t that make you look like a diva?”

“Focus, Dr. Wolff. This is where the boyfriend part comes in. No one can know I’m sick. As far as the director, cast and crew are concerned, you and I will be an item. If I have a flare-up, you’ll cover for me, treat me and make sure the downtime is minimal. They’ll know who you are, of course. No way to hide that you’re a Wolff. And your profession doesn’t have to be a secret. But they can’t know I’m sick.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re delusional?”

“My whole world is an illusion, Doc. I do my best work on the other side of reality.”

He shook his head. “You make it sound so easy. I deal in facts, Ariel. Black and white. I doubt that I have a drop of dramatic talent anywhere in my body.”

“Perhaps not,” she drawled, feeling the urge to needle him, “but you do have a very fine body. That and your medical skills are all I need.”

If she had hoped to embarrass him, she failed.

Jacob Wolff stared at her, almost visibly picking apart her artless words. “What makes you think I’d even consider such a proposition? I have my work, Ariel, my research. Why would I walk away from that?”

Ariel had learned at the tender age of sixteen that she could use her looks and sexuality to get what she wanted in life, particularly from men. Though her repertoire of ploys had been back-burnered as she matured, this might have been a good time to pull one out. But something about Jacob’s invisible but palpable integrity made her loath to cheapen a budding relationship.

She shrugged, gambling wildly. “For the same reason that you became a doctor. You like being needed. And I need you, Jacob Wolff. You and no one else. Will you help me?”




Three


Jacob’s poker skills were stretched to the limit. Keeping a professional mask of impassivity was damned near impossible. By God, the little wench had nailed him.

If Ariel died—a very real possibility if she had a serious relapse—he’d never forgive himself. He had sworn an oath not to do harm to anyone. If he let her walk out the door, he would be violating everything he held sacred about preserving human life.

It was more than any altruistic desire to play the hero. He’d seen death too many times. His mother. His fiancée. His childhood friend. Not to mention patients he had lost in med school—never due to any negligence on his part, but loss nevertheless.

In this instance, there was only one choice to be made, despite the upheaval it would cause in his life. But the danger in agreeing—the emotional and unpredictable side effect—would be his surprising hunger for the delicious Ariel Dane. And that admission raised all sorts of warning flags in his psyche.

“When would you need me?” he asked, mentally flipping through his calendar.

“Ten days from now, more or less.”

“And where will we be staging our tryst? Please don’t tell me that this Oscar-worthy movie is an action flick set in downtown Detroit.”

His humor eased some of the tension from her narrow shoulders. “Lucky for you, no. We’ll be heading to Antigua. Sun, sand, sangria.”

“I’m not much of a drinker. Would that be a problem … in terms of image?”

“Not at all. I rarely drink, either.”

His skepticism must have shown through.

Ariel bristled. “I’ve only been legal for a relatively short time. And in all those months, I’ve rarely had more than a single glass of wine at any party or event.”

He worked to shrug off his preconceptions. She was an actress. A very good one. Playing the wronged innocent would be a piece of cake for her. And Jacob just one more dupe along the way.

But he wanted to believe her. He did believe her. “If I agreed, how long would we be gone?” The flicker of hope that bloomed in her eyes affected him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

“The director hopes to wrap in ten weeks and head back to L.A. All the interior shots will be filmed on a sound stage. You’d be free to return to Wolff Mountain then.”

“What happens if you get sick once you’re back in California?”

She shrugged. “My mother will be around. And I have a couple of friends I trust. But the truth is, by that point, the director and producer couldn’t afford to fire me. Not with that much of the movie in the can. Their only choice would be to wait for me to get better.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

She waved a hand at the wall behind his desk. “I may not have your credentials, Doc, but I’ve got street smarts in spades. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there in Tinseltown. I should know. I’ve got the bite marks to prove it.”

“I’m not committing to anything until we do a complete medical exam. Will you agree to that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

The atmosphere in the room was charged. Jacob felt the blood pumping in his veins. “No.” He was blunt. Determined. In some areas he might be led around by his sex, but not this. Not when it came to a patient’s health.

She paled, her hands twisting in distress. “I’ve already been diagnosed.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have to make my own assessment. What are you afraid I’ll find?”

She stilled, her chin lifting and her expression haughty. “I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t like doctors.”

“I’m distraught.” He hadn’t expected to find anything funny in their situation, but her sheer cussedness amused him. “This will be painless, I assure you.”

“Says the man with the needles.”

He lifted a brow. “Is that the problem? I’ll have to draw blood, you know. But I have a light touch, I swear.”

She rocked back and forth in her chair, arms clasped around her waist. “I’ve been known to pass out when donating during a Red Cross Drive. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll take care of you.” The words slipped from his lips easily, sounding more like a vow than a simple statement. He cursed inwardly, swallowing hard. “Seriously, Ariel. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Will I have to take off my clothes?”

His entire body went on red alert. Ariel. Naked. Beneath his roof. Perhaps building a clinic in his house had been a stupid idea. Because it sure as hell had never occurred to him that he might one day want to walk a patient down the hall to his bedroom.

Or better yet, drag her into the hall and take her standing up because he didn’t have the patience to wait.

Sweat dampened his forehead. His hands, his surgically trained hands, trembled. “No,” he croaked. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then let’s get it over with,” she muttered, rising gracefully to her feet with a little bounce that made her seem younger than at any moment so far. She reached for her designer purse.

“Leave it,” Jacob said. “We won’t be gone long and there’s no one around to bother it.”

As they stepped into the hallway that connected the clinic to the rest of the house, Jacob glanced toward the window that offered a view of the driveway. “Is someone waiting for you?” he asked. “A driver perhaps?”

Ariel yawned and stretched, her breasts straining the thin, soft fabric of her dress. “I drove myself. Flew coach. Wore a black wig and fake glasses. Rented a car. I was lucky. No one recognized me.”

“Or if they did, they had the decency not to bother you.”

She laughed. “Do you always assume such nice things about the world at large?”

“People are not all bad.”

“I’m amazed you can have that attitude after what happened to your family. Isn’t that why you’re holed up here? To isolate yourselves from danger?”

Jacob sighed, ushering her into an exam room. “My father and uncle brought us to the mountain for that reason initially, but as adults, we’ve all chosen to live here for different motives. My brother Gareth likes the wild remoteness of the land. Kieran has discovered that despite his world travels, no place else feels like home.”

“And you?”

“I like being nearby to care for my father and uncle. They’re both getting up in years … Both started families late in life. I keep an eye on them. And the location is perfect for my patients who need privacy.” Not to mention the fact that the world at large was a painful place. Jacob had begun his life as an introvert, and the experiences that had shaped him only served to reinforce that tendency.

“Who else lives here on the mountain?”

He fancied she was chattering to distract herself from the upcoming exam, but he indulged her. “I have two brand-new sisters-in-law. And three cousins who come and go.”

She perched on the end of the exam table, swinging her legs, hands propped behind her. “You need a decorator,” she said bluntly.

“Excuse me?” He frowned, opening a drawer and extracting supplies.

“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.




Four


Ariel watched Jacob Wolff carefully. Early in life she had learned to study people … their habits, their idiosyncrasies. The dishy doctor fascinated her. Power and control emanated from him with invisible but potent force. She wanted to fling herself against his calm and see if she could ruffle the waters. Flirting came naturally to her, and though it was perhaps unfair to Jacob, already she acknowledged in herself an urge to see if she could crack the invisible wall he erected to keep people at a distance.

Jacob finished his task and eyed her warily. “I was serious about changing clothes,” he said. She slid off the table, but had to reach out a hand when the room spun in dizzying circles. Unfortunately, the closest unyielding surface was the doc’s chest. It was broad and firm, with sleek muscles that flexed beneath his starched white shirt.

He put an arm around her, which only served to make her dizzier. His cheek lowered to hers. “Are you okay?”

They were close enough that she felt a brief brush from his slightly stubbled chin. She made herself slide from his loose hold. “Never better,” she croaked. “But yes, I’d love to put on some other clothes. This dress looks a little too much like one I wore in a slasher movie a few years back.”

Jacob ushered her out into the hall. “Shall I get your bag out of the car?”

She nodded, her feet glued to the floor by an unnerving bout of shyness. “I would appreciate it. The suitcase is in the trunk. The doors aren’t locked.”

As he stepped outside, she ducked into his office and retrieved her purse. When he returned, she managed a cheery smile. “You’re acting awfully nice for someone who has a reputation for being antisocial.”

He hesitated, looking abashed. “Not really antisocial. Merely focused on my work.”

“I see.” Another challenge.

She followed him into the living room. Acres of onyx carpet cushioned their feet, not a single dust bunny or speck of lint evident anywhere. White leather furniture looked comfy, but cold. All in all, Jacob’s decorating scheme was modern and sleek. With the careful addition of well-placed colorful accents here and there, it might even be considered charmingly sophisticated.

They crossed the room to a hallway on the far side. Bedrooms opened off a long corridor.

Jacob entered the nearest open door, placing her generic black suitcase on the floor beside the bed. “Feel free to use the bathroom,” he said. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

“I don’t have any hotel reservations,” Ariel said bluntly.

He cocked his head. “I can’t decide if you’re disingenuous or calculating.”

“Wow.” She winced. “Can I pick answer number three?”

“And that would be?”

“Focused. On my work.”

He actually laughed, and she felt as if she had won the lottery. “Touché.” His expression changed. “Why do you want to stay here, Ariel?”

“My flight is not until tomorrow. The closest hotels are well over an hour away. I don’t want to take a chance of people recognizing me and wondering why I’m in the area.”

He nodded briefly as if validating her reasoning. “Get changed. We’ll hash out a plan when you’re ready.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Ariel alone in a huge room decked out in shades of ivory and taupe. The furnishings were feminine, and she wondered if he entertained female guests here. If so, they probably slept in Jacob’s bed.

The pinch of jealousy was foreign.

Though she would have loved a shower after the long flight and the subsequent drive, she wasted no time in stripping off the dress and rummaging in her case for comfy jeans and a light cotton pullover. Silver leather flats completed her Ariel-out-of-the-limelight ensemble.

She left the suitcase behind when she went to find Jacob, hoping he was going to let her stay. When she found him, he was sprawled on the sofa in front of the TV looking relaxed and masculine with his sock-clad feet propped up on a black lacquer coffee table.

He stood immediately when she entered. “That was fast.” His gaze went to her bra-less breasts for a split second.

“I’m low maintenance.”

“That remains to be seen.”

The note of sarcasm in his voice flustered her. In defense, she trained her gaze on the television screen. “I guess you’ve got satellite way up here.”

He waved at an adjacent sofa. “Do you really want to talk about my electronics? Sit down, Ariel.”

The intimacy of the living room lent a different dynamic than she had experienced in the clinic. Now she and Jacob seemed more like man and woman than doctor and patient. She curled into the embrace of the soft leather with her feet beneath her. Leaning an arm on the side, she propped her head on her hand. “What do you do for fun?” she asked, really wanting to know.

“Fun?” His face was blank as he settled back into his original seat.

“Leisure … recreation … hobbies … relaxation.”

“Oh.” For a simple question, it seemed to flummox him. “I read medical journals. And I hike the mountain with my brothers.”

“That’s it?”

He frowned. “What did you expect? I’m not the party type. Which is why you might want to reconsider asking me to portray your love interest.”

“Jeremy Vargas told me you made a perfect score on the SATs when you were fifteen. He said you have three completely different master’s degrees and you’re a medical doctor. Is all of that true?”

Her host, his arms outstretched, drummed his fingers on the back of the sofa. “Does it matter?” His gaze and his words were bland.

“You’re freakishly intelligent, aren’t you?” She stood up and deliberately joined him, leaving a mere three feet between them.

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “What is this about, Ariel?”

“I’m rethinking my proposition.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure what a guy like you will do all day long in Antigua.”

“Would I be allowed on the set?”

“If I say so.”

“You have that much clout?”

“For what it’s worth, yes.”

“I’m thinking you’re pretty smart, as well.”

His gentle smile did something odd to the pit of her stomach. “Not the same thing at all. You save lives.”

“I do research that helps other people save lives. It’s not glamorous. Repetition and record-keeping and hoping every day for a breakthrough.”

“What are you working on right now?” She inched a little closer, waiting to see if he would stop her. Her behavior was outrageous, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was gorgeous. And smart. And far more appealing than any man she’d met in years.

Jacob didn’t bat an eye at her not-so-subtle move. Was she making any impact on him at all? Or was he really immune to her femininity?

His even tone gave nothing away. “I’m not the only one, but I’m working to develop what one day may become a cancer vaccine.”

“Well, crap.” She pulled her knees to her chest and glared at him. Whether he meant to or not, he had shut her down.

“That’s a problem for you?”

“How am I supposed to lure you away when my selfishness could cost someone their life?”

“It’s rarely that time sensitive, Ariel. We’re talking research that takes months, years. And to get back to your original concern, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy. I make my own decisions, and I can entertain myself.”

“Do you work out?”

Again the flummoxed look. “Following your conversational gambits is like chasing a rabbit in the woods.”

“Sorry. My mind jumps. Can you answer the question?”

His eyes narrowed. “I swim laps at Gareth’s pool. I walk up and down the mountain when the mood hits me. I cut firewood for the winter. Have I passed?”

“Passed?”

“The test. I got the impression that you were looking for some specific answers.”

If nothing else, she had annoyed him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m merely trying to establish what kind of man you are.”

“There are varieties?”

“Of course there are. I’ve nailed you as the selfless, driven, save-the-world type.”

He stood up. And from her vantage point, he looked really big. “Come here, Ariel.”

She obeyed, more out of curiosity than anything else. When they were standing toe to toe, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears. Shivering, she lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. “What do you want?”

“I’m wondering how good an actress you are. If you want to make people believe that you and I are a couple, we’ll have to kiss at least once or twice, right?”

Her throat dried as she tried to swallow a lump the size of Texas. “Does that mean you’re considering my proposal?”

His gray eyes warmed to charcoal embers. “Answer my question first. Would we have to occasionally kiss?”

She nodded slowly, feeling completely out of her depth. Rarely did a man manage to throw her off kilter. But Jacob Wolff was giving it his best shot. “Yeeessss,” she drawled. “I’d say that would be necessary and appropriate.”

His quick, self-deprecating smile warmed her to her toes. “Well then, let’s give it a shot.”

Before she could agree or protest, or better yet shoot back with a smart-ass response, Jacob’s mouth moved across hers.

Ariel had kissed lots of men. Some tasted like cigarettes or salami. A few were pleasant but unremarkable. The guys who had something to prove usually bent her neck backward at an awkward angle. And occasionally there were one or two who were genuinely good at locking lips.

Jacob’s kiss defied description, mostly because she didn’t have the mental sharpness to analyze it. Her synapses were firing like random paintball gun explosions, making her knees rubbery and her head muzzy. Jacob’s arms encircled her firmly, bringing her close to his chest. He was determined and possessive, but not forceful. The caress of his lips on hers was toe-curlingly sensual, but with barely a hint of tongue.

For a first kiss, it was damned near perfect.

They broke apart in unison. Ariel stumbled backward, reaching behind her for a seat. Unfortunately, reaching for her habitual cheeky repartee was not so simple. She cleared her throat. “Not bad, Doc. Especially for a first take.”

He folded his arms across his chest. Was he breathing hard? She’d like to think so.

When he remained silent, she squirmed. “What’s going on in that computer brain of yours?”

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.

“Because of the kiss?”

He shook his head. “No. Because as much as I hate to admit it, you have me pegged. I can’t let you go off on your own knowing you could fall ill at any moment.”

“You don’t look too happy about it. Was kissing me so awful?”

“Let’s get something straight, Ms. Ariel Dane. I’ll kiss you when the occasion demands it. And God help me, I’ll enjoy it. But that’s as far as it goes. You’re my patient.”

“Who said I wanted it to go any farther?” she pouted. “Do you think you’re irresistible?”

“I’m a man … and you’re an incredibly beautiful woman. Things happen.”

“What kind of things?” When he got on his high horse, it was fun to tease him.

“Lord, you’re a brat.” The words were exasperated, but his reluctant smile was laced with humor.

“You can keep telling yourself that I’m little more than a child, but it’s not true. I grew up a long time ago. Eyes wide open. Ideals shattered. Illusions dissolved. I’m no ingénue. And I’m in charge of my life. So while I will be eternally grateful for your help in this specific situation, I don’t need or want you to boss me around.”

“When it comes to your health, I’ll have the last word. Or the deal’s off.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If I tell you to nap, you nap. If I expect you to eat healthy meals, that’s what will happen. You’re hiring me to be your doctor. The boyfriend is only a front. He won’t make any demands, but Dr. Jacob Wolff will have plenty.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Jacob’s dictatorial manner might have raised her hackles in another situation, but after that kiss, his masculine authority made her swoon inwardly with an entirely non-PC fit of feminine vapors.

“Then we have a deal?” At this point, she might cry if he backed out. And she never cried in real life.

He nodded once, his pewter gaze hooded. “I may be losing my mind, but yes, we have a deal.”

She wanted to throw herself in his arms and try for kiss number two. But she restrained herself. If Jacob was impressed by decorum and common sense, she could reform. Probably. “Thank you, Doc,” she said quietly. “And since you’re in the mood to say yes, I’ll ask you again. May I spend the night?”




Five


Jacob tried to take her words at face value. He really did. But he was fairly certain the little minx was baiting him. She was so accustomed to getting what she wanted, her boldness came across as a mix of innocence and unabashed confidence.

Kissing her had been a test—for him. He wanted to know what he was up against before he agreed. Given the way his body reacted to hers, the answer to her proposition should be an unequivocal no. But even knowing the danger she presented, he couldn’t get past the fact that she needed him. And God help him, he couldn’t turn her away.

He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. It had been playing quietly in the background while he and Ariel sparred. Keeping his back to her for a few seconds, he marshaled his thoughts. It was inevitable that she had picked up on his attraction to her. His erection had pulsed between them during that restrained but surprisingly steamy kiss.

But she needed to know from the beginning that he wouldn’t be led around by his— Oh, hell. She was probably amused by his lust. He surely wasn’t the first man to want Ariel Dane, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Bending to put the remote inside the entertainment center, he at last straightened and faced her. “Sure,” he said laconically. “I’ve got bedrooms to spare. But you’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

She nodded. “I have lots to do at home to get ready for the trip. I’m guessing that you will, as well.”

“Indeed. Starting with an edited but truthful explanation for my family as to why I’m jetting off to the Caribbean on a whim.”

“Why does it have to be edited? Couldn’t you just call it a vacation?”

“I want to protect your privacy. And I don’t take vacations.”

She flushed. “You’ll think of something.” While Jacob leaned a hip against the back of the sofa, she stood up to prowl, her nervous energy palpable. A Barbie doll peeking from beneath a chair caught her attention. She picked it up. “Is this for research purposes?”

“I have a brand-new niece … not an infant,” he hastened to explain. “But Kieran recently found out he has a daughter. Cammie. She must have left it when they were here last.”

Ariel’s expression was wistful. “How old is she?”

“Five. Starting kindergarten. We’ve all fallen in love with her.” He paused, struck by the naked longing he saw on her face. “Do you want to have children one day?”

She set the doll on the coffee table and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “It’s tough to give kids a normal life in Hollywood.”

“Some people manage.”

“I don’t think I’d be good at it. Motherhood, I mean. I have too many bad habits, too many faults. What kind of example would I be?”

He cocked his head, trying to decipher the words between the lines. “The idea of a perfect mother is a myth.”

“You haven’t met my mom.”

“Perhaps I’ll get to one day.”

She shrugged. “Doubtful.” With an almost visible effort, she slipped back into movie star mode. “I’m hungry,” she said with a winsome smile. “Do you cook?”

“Only the basics. We can always go up to the main house and have dinner with the extended family. I can make up some excuse for why you’re here.”

Unease skittered across her face. “Let’s not. I’m sure they are charming people, but they’ll want to ask questions and talk movies, and I’m—” She stopped abruptly.

“You’re …?”

“I don’t know. Tired, I guess. I like your house. It’s peaceful. Do you have a pantry?”

There she went again, dragging the conversation off on a tangent. “I do,” he conceded. “But I’m not sure how well it’s stocked.”

She paused beside him during one circuit of the living room, her breast almost brushing his shoulder. “Let’s go check it out. It will be fun.”

Bemused, he stood up and directed her toward his large kitchen. His cousin, Annalise, had contributed to the design here. Top-of-the-line appliances and countertops in black granite speckled with gray adorned this room where he seldom spent time. It was easier to hop up the hill when he wanted more than a peanut butter sandwich.

Ariel paused, hands on hips, and scanned the area. “Nice,” she said. “Nothing a few red dishcloths couldn’t spruce up. Why do you have such a fancy kitchen if all of you eat together in the castle?”

“We don’t always. I suppose it seems odd to outsiders, but my father and Uncle Vincent hold court every evening. Now that my two brothers are married, they’re often tucked away in their own houses. But my cousins and I may or may not show up at the Wolff dinner table depending on our schedules. And Gareth and Kieran are welcome with their new brides. It’s sort of an open door policy.”

“I feel sorry for the chef. Meal planning must be a nightmare.”

Jacob had never really thought about it. “The kitchen staff is compensated well,” he said, ruefully noting the defensiveness in his voice. Again, Ariel had put him at a disadvantage. Certainly she was surrounded by a host of people to do her bidding on any given day. And yet somehow she seemed more clued in than most about other perspectives than her own.

The copper-bottomed pots hanging overhead caught her attention. “Here’s some color,” she teased.

“I could probably dig up a blue pot holder if it would make you feel better.”

She ignored him, flinging open the door to the roomy pantry. “Heads up, Doc.” He nearly dropped the bag of flour she tossed in his direction. It was a good thing he was ready for the cans of peaches and blueberries. The fusillade continued until he was hard-pressed to juggle the assortment of groceries.

Finally she was satisfied.

Leaving him to carefully deposit the pile of supplies on the counter, she began flinging open cabinets willy-nilly. Watching Ariel bend over was not the smartest thing Jacob had ever done. Her heart-shaped ass was delineated beautifully in soft, faded denim. His hands itched to palm her butt.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest. “May I ask what you have in mind?”

She straightened, a shallow pan in her hand. “Fruit crepes à la Ariel. And bacon if you have any.”

His mouth watered while his stomach, for an instant, took precedence over his baser instincts.

“You don’t have to cook for me. We have thirty or forty employees on staff.”

She twirled the pan, placed it on the stove, and reached in the fridge for butter and bacon. “I like being waited on as much as the next girl,” she said, her voice muffled. “But it’s kinda nice to be alone, don’t you think?”

As her seemingly innocuous words sank into his brain, she straightened. “Sit on a stool and talk to me.”

“This is my house,” he muttered, the statement a complaint and a reminder to himself. Her loose ponytail exposed a swanlike neck.

“Well, so what. Get over it, Doc. How do you like your bacon?”

“Crisp,” he sighed. They chatted while Ariel prepared the meal. On the surface, their conversation was completely ordinary. But something about Ariel’s husky voice made the most banal comments sound like an invitation into her bed.

And at the moment, her bed was in Jacob’s house.

“Do you have relationships with a lot of your leading men?” he asked bluntly.

Her hand stilled, spatula suspended over the thin egg mixture. “Define relationship.” Her head was bent, only her profile visible.

“You know what I mean.”

She flipped the second crepe onto a plate warming on the side of the stove and shot him a cool glance. “Are we going to share notes on our sex lives? I’m all agog. I hear that doctors are a hot ticket item in the dating pool. You must have plenty of notches in the old bedpost. Orange juice?”

The juxtaposition of her prosaic question with the flammable topic silenced him as he followed her to the small table in the breakfast nook. As she shook out her napkin and took a seat, he realized she wasn’t going to answer him. He should be ashamed of his probing question, but he wasn’t. He told himself the information might have implications about her general health, but the truth was, he was jealous as hell.

And angry, if he were honest. Ariel was hardly the first talented young actress to fall victim to immaturity. She wasn’t exactly Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears, but she had scored her own share of the tabloid pages.

She said she didn’t drink, and Jacob had seen no evidence of drug use. But there had been plenty of men. Lots of men. One who was even old enough to be her father. Had her mother been unable to protect her from the predators who were lured by Ariel’s fresh-faced innocence and joie de vivre?

Okay, so maybe predator was a harsh word. Thinking of the ways she might have been taken advantage of made his stomach hurt. But more than that, he was uncomfortably aware that he wanted her in the exact same fashion.

His only saving grace would be to resist temptation and to take care of her in every way possible. As he dug into his food, he watched her. Someone had been working overtime when she was conceived. Like an impressionist painting, if you examined every facet of her face and body, she was simply a woman. But put it all together, and Ariel Dane was a masterpiece.

The eyes alone would have made her attractive, but with her luminous skin, perfect bone structure and lithe body, she was the epitome of feminine grace and beauty. The only flaw he could spot anywhere—if you wanted to call it that—was that her ears were a tiny bit big for her head.

As if she had read his mind, she covered the side of her face and frowned. “Quit staring at me. I shouldn’t have put my hair up this morning.”

“What are you talking about? It’s hard not to look. You’re a stunning woman.”

“On the set, when I was younger, every time I put my hair into a bun or a ponytail, some of the other kids would call me Dumbo.”

Jacob frowned. The vulnerability and hurt in that one sentence staggered him. Ariel Dane was regarded as one of the most beautiful women in America. But she had no clue. Incredible.

He finished his last few bites and sat back. “That was fantastic. Thank you, Ariel.”

She beamed. “Thank my mom. She started teaching me how to cook when I was ten.”

When he saw that she had cleared her plate, he stood up. “If I’m going to be your pseudo boyfriend, let’s get one thing straight.”

Apprehension widened her eyes. “What?”

He bent down and first kissed the shell of one ear and then the other. “Your pretty little ears are perfect. And if anyone thinks differently, you send them to me and I’ll straighten them out.”

Ariel scooted away from him and stood to gather the plates. “I didn’t know I was hiring Sir Galahad.” The words were flip, but he saw her blink away tears, though she tried to hide her emotion.

Concern and empathy mingled in his heart. He knew what it was like to be the cynosure of all eyes, to be judged by a different standard. In his final year in med school, it had come out that he was one of the Wolffs. His classmates, many of whom had worked alongside him for years, suddenly regarded him with suspicion and, in a few cases, envy. One angry intern demanded to know why he was taking up a coveted spot in the program when Jacob had more than enough money for a lifetime.

In the blink of an eye, Jacob was standing on the outside looking in. The profession that had welcomed him into its ranks and made him feel as if he belonged was no longer an oasis of normalcy.

Everyone knew that Wolffs were a breed all their own. Some sympathized with him for surviving the long-ago tragedy. But for most, Jacob’s connection to the clan meant he was now an alien presence in the world of the hospital.




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