Expecting The Doctor's Baby. Teresa SouthwickЧитать онлайн книгу.
that working out?” Amanda asked.
“I’ve had several sessions with one of the respiratory therapists who is wonderful with kids, but not so much the adults. She’s very receptive to learning techniques to deal with conflict in a less confrontational manner.”
“I see.”
Sam glanced at the doorway and her heart stuttered when she recognized another high-profile and infamous client weaving his way through the crowd. Mitch Tenney was taller than most, so it wasn’t difficult to spot him. Avoiding him was another issue entirely.
Part of her job was public relations and this was too public for Mitch to miss her unless she ducked behind a marble column and hid for the rest of the night.
“Amanda, it’s been a pleasure talking with you. If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone over there I need to…” She pointed to a place on the opposite side of the room from where Mitch was standing.
“Thanks for the information, Sam. Good to meet you.”
“You, too.” Sam smiled then slid through the crowd of people.
What the heck was he doing here?
But she knew the answer. This was a fund-raiser. The hospital had a mutually beneficial relationship with all the physicians who had privileges there. For all his flaws, her father had a noble goal and had put the pressure on everyone to make this fund-raiser a success. He was determined to build a cancer treatment center at Mercy Medical and dedicate it to the memory of her mother, who had died of the disease. He had loved her very much. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t love her daughter.
Sam made her way to the other side of the room but couldn’t shake the sensation of awareness. She felt like the princess and the pea—she couldn’t see him but she knew he was there.
And then it happened. The crowd parted like the Red Sea and he spotted her. It was too much to hope he would simply wave and walk away. That wasn’t the Tenney technique. He grinned and headed for her like a magnet to true north. His long legs put him in front of her before the static in her brain cleared.
“Sam, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Hello.” Clever comeback, she thought.
“And just like that, an evening I thought would be boring is anything but.”
Based on what the sight of him in a tuxedo was doing to her insides, boring was the last word that came to her mind. The first word would be sex and if all his harnessed intensity was aimed at her, she’d be in his bed, no questions asked.
“So what brings you here?” he asked.
“I’m working, actually. Networking. Darlyn was supposed to be here also, but she’s still under the weather. So I’m on my own representing the firm.” She was babbling and took a sip of wine to stop herself. “How are you, Mitch?”
“Better now.” His gaze boldly checked her out from head to toe. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks.” She decided to mimic his bold appraisal and looked him up and down. “You clean up pretty good yourself. Quite a change from the pajamas.”
He glanced down. “Speaking of monkey suits…It’s your fault I’m here.”
How did she interpret that comment and respond appropriately? He didn’t look annoyed. More like a predator on the prowl.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. At our monthly status meeting my associates drafted me to represent them when I was preoccupied with figuring out how to convince you that we would work well together.”
The glitter in his blue eyes made her heart hammer against the inside of her chest. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the huge room, which made a witty comeback something of a challenge.
“Oh?”
“I promised myself that I’d bring it up the next time I saw you, but never expected I’d have the pleasure so soon.” He took her elbow and steered her to the bar, where he ordered a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks.
For someone who relied on talking to put food on the table and a roof over her head, being around Mitch was an incredibly humbling experience. Which was a good portion of the reason she could never work with him. She emptied her wineglass and set it on the bar.
“So, you don’t like dressing up?” she said, watching him take his drink, then slip five dollars into the bartender’s tip glass.
“I’m much more comfortable in my pajamas,” he answered, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Warmth crept into her cheeks. As far as his attire went, the pajamas were a good look. But in black tie and jacket he was a tall, dark, handsome fantasy come to life. How could she not fantasize about being in his arms with his lips pressed to hers?
Good grief. She needed to get away. “It’s nice to see you again. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going over there to check out the silent auction items.”
“Great idea,” he said, falling into step beside her.
The man couldn’t take a hint if she pressed it into his hand. He was the perverse type who would stick like glue if she asked him to get lost. She simply turned away and felt his gaze on her as he followed.
They browsed the items on display—jewelry, paintings, pricey glass art, spa packages—and stopped by the large sign that read Marshall Management Consultants. After reading the fine print, he set his drink down and filled out a bid, then stuck it in the box.
“Wouldn’t you rather have a picture or a weekend spa getaway?” she asked.
He drained the contents of his glass and the ice clinked when he lowered it. “No.”
She folded her arms over her chest and blushed when the movement drew his gaze there. He made no effort to hide his positive reaction.
“Since when did you change your mind about what I do?”
“Since a very wise woman pointed out to me that if I don’t, my ass could be grass and in jeopardy of getting hit by the door on my way out.”
“You’re already getting counseling sessions,” she reminded him. “Why would you voluntarily buy more?”
“Let’s just say that I always get what I want.”
Sam didn’t miss the expression in his eyes, the intensity snapping there. She got that familiar, fluttery sensation in the pit of her stomach because the look clearly said he wanted her. And not for counseling.
She had a feeling what he wanted didn’t actually involve talking.
Mitch leaned back and slid his left arm across the back of Sam’s chair, noting that his fingers literally itched from the urge to touch her shoulder and explore the shimmery, sexy, mysterious softness of her skin. He took a steadying breath and glanced around the ballroom, lights dimmed for dinner. Flower arrangements in fall colors of orange, gold and brown decorated the tables, garnished with small pumpkins as a salute to Halloween coming in a few weeks. Candles glowed from the center of the array and the flame only made his dinner companion look more captivating.
He leaned closer and said, “I told you to stick with me. Is this a good place, or what?”
“Technically I’m not with you,” she said pleasantly. “My father gave me a ride. And you crashed this table.”
“A gentleman wouldn’t abandon a lady whose date is home sick. Especially a lady who looks so beautiful.”
“Oh, please—”
He touched a finger to her lips, stopping the words, but kicking her pulse into a flutter. If he hadn’t been focused on the fascinating place where clavicle and neck collided, he might have missed it. Tapping gently, he said, “Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”
“I’d