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“Everyone has at least a few problems worth talking about,” she countered.
“Like your need to control every single moment of this trip? That’s going to be a problem. Maybe we should talk about that.”
She considered his statement for a long moment, then nodded. “Point taken. I have my own little demons. But I’m curious about yours.”
“I don’t have any.” Rogan recognized the lie. But the last person he wanted peering into the dark corners of his mind was Dr. Claudia Mathison.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“If you get me to loosen up, then I get to peek inside your head.”
“You want to x-ray my brain?”
“No,” she said with a giggle. “I want to shrink your head. I want to figure you out. If you manage to loosen me up, then I get to analyze you. You have to answer all my questions.”
“Believe me, you won’t find anything of interest inside my head. I’m a pretty normal bloke.”
“There’s no such thing. Besides, look at yourself. You’re gorgeous—and you’re not married. Not even attached.”
“How do you know I’m not attached?”
“Because if you were, you wouldn’t be staring at me like you want to kiss me,” she said.
Rogan gasped. “I do not—”
“Oh, come now. You’re most definitely flirting with me. You touch me every opportunity you get.” She nodded at his hand resting on her leg, his fingers in hers. “See there? So tell me all your secrets.”
Rogan downed his whiskey, then motioned for another. He’d never met a woman like Claudia, a woman who said exactly what was on her mind the moment it occurred to her. He was used to expending all his energy trying to figure out the opposite sex. Women never said exactly what they meant, they were always playing some sort of game.
Maybe that was why he’d been reluctant to make a romantic commitment. How could a guy trust his heart to a woman when he couldn’t be sure when she was telling the truth and when she was lying? “I don’t have any secrets,” Rogan said. “Maybe we should talk about tomorrow’s itinerary.”
“Classic avoidance,” she said.
“I’m doing my job,” he countered.
“I’m sure everything will go exactly as planned.”
“You can’t plan for every eventuality, Dr. Mathison. I—”
“You should call me Claudia,” she interrupted. “Unless you deliberately want to maintain a distance between us. Which doesn’t seem to be the case since you’re still touching me.”
Rogan looked down to find his fingers still tangled in hers. Hell, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. He gently pulled his hand away.
“I might change our plan a bit,” he said. “I don’t want to stress the group out too much on the first day.”
“It was a certified disaster today, wasn’t it?” she muttered. “I should have planned better. But it was just like a— What do you call that when snow slides down the side of a hill and—”
“Avalanche?”
“Yes! An avalanche. It started small and it just got bigger and bigger until I couldn’t seem to stop it. Avalanche. Why couldn’t I remember that word?”
“You’re exhausted. Your brain isn’t functioning at full capacity. And you’re working on your third martini.”
“I require very little sleep,” she informed him.
Jaysus, she was a quirky little thing, Rogan mused, suppressing a smile. “Yes, you mentioned that on the phone.”
“I know I can be a pain in the arse,” Claudia said. “And I’m sorry if I was overly demanding. I could tell you were irritated, but it always pays to be prepared. I like to be prepared. You can appreciate that, can’t you?”
“I can,” Rogan agreed. “But then, there is something to be said for spontaneity. Interesting things happen when you don’t plan for them.”
“I suppose so,” Claudia said. “I didn’t expect you to be so attractive. I didn’t plan on that.”
He chuckled softly. “What did you expect?”
“Someone older. Rougher around the edges. More commanding.”
“I’m not commanding?” Rogan asked.
“No. I mean, you’re obviously very competent. But I’d call you affable. Yes, that’s it. You’re affable.”
Was that really her first impression? Rogan wondered. Women were usually much more taken by his charm and devastating good looks. Or so they said. “And you’re drunk,” he said.
“Maybe,” Claudia admitted. “Just a little. But you’ll still be affable in the morning.”
For some reason, the sentiment seemed to amuse her and she got caught up in a long fit of giggles. Rogan found her loss of control just as endearing as her joke and he joined her until they were both giddy and breathless. Claudia took a deep breath. “I feel better now,” she said.
“Better than having a good cry?” he asked.
“Much better.”
“Come on then,” he said. “I’ve got you a room. You can finish your drink there. That way, if you pass out, you’ll already be in bed.”
He picked up her glass and waited while she got to her feet. Her bag was still sitting next to the stool. “Can you have someone bring her bag up to room 1114?” he asked the bartender.
“I can get my own bag,” Claudia protested. “I’m not that drunk.” She bent down to pick it up but had to reach out to balance herself on the back of the stool. “Then again, maybe I am.”
“Come on, Doc. Just put one foot in front of the other. The lift isn’t that far.”
“You are a very good guide,” Claudia said, waving her finger at him.
It took a bit of time for her to balance her purse and her bag, but then she took off at an amazingly brisk pace, her shoes clicking smartly against the marble floor as he followed. When they got to the lift, she pushed the button and stared at the lights above the door. He stood behind her, wondering what was going through her head.
Rogan knew exactly was going through his mind. His gazed drifted down to her bum and he contemplated the curves beneath the unfaded denim jeans. By appearances, she seemed to be the model of perfection, right down to her painted fingernails. But he got the sense that the prim and proper exterior was hiding a mess of contradictions on the inside.
He’d always heard that about shrinks, that they were usually more crazy than their patients. She’d been crazy enough to try to get five of her phobic patients on a plane together and fly them all to New Zealand, and crazy enough to plan this trip.
But though it was probably going to be a hellish week for him, he relished the chance to get to know her a little better.
Rogan had always been attracted to “easy” girls. Those who didn’t fuss over their appearance and who were ready to surf or bike or hike at a moment’s notice. That was obviously not Claudia Mathison. She was a planner, the kind of woman he usually found irritating. And yet, he found himself strangely attracted to her. Or maybe it wasn’t attraction, but curiosity.
Still, he’d be wise to temper the attraction with a healthy dose of suspicion. She wanted to analyze him, and he wasn’t about to bare his soul to a stranger, even if she was a beautiful, sexy, intriguing woman.
Revealing his insecurities and vulnerabilities wouldn’t do either one of them any good. She’d see him as flawed and he’d be constantly on edge, waiting for her to use the information against him. Hell, he hadn’t even revealed his innermost fears to his own brothers, and they were the two people he trusted most in the world.
Then again, maybe that was why he’d never fallen in love. He’d never trusted a woman enough to let her get close...really close. That kind of trust was a double-edged sword. It could open up a person to love but it could also destroy him in a single blow. Look what had happened to his mother. No, he’d keep his heart to himself.
But her challenge did intrigue him. He was sure he could get the good doctor to loosen up—without revealing any of his secrets.
The lift doors opened and she stumbled inside. Rogan followed her and they stood together as the door closed. She was closest to the control panel and he waited for her to push the button for the eleventh floor.
He smiled to himself. She’d fixed her gaze on the lights above the door again, her pretty face crunched into a frown. “This lift is broken,” she finally said. “It’s not moving. Or is it moving?” She leaned back against the wall. “Maybe I’m the one that’s moving.”
Rogan leaned across her and pushed the button. “I fixed it.”
As they rode up, he closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath and taking in the scent of her perfume. He usually didn’t care for perfume, but right now, his senses seemed to be operating in overdrive. Everything about her was much more tantalizing than it should be. By the time they reached her room, Rogan was already wondering what it might be like to kiss her.
She had an amazing mouth, wide and expressive, with lips the color of ripe berries. He knew the unwritten rule that a guide should never seduce a client. But Claudia really wasn’t a client. He wasn’t guiding her, he was guiding her patients. And so was she. By all accounts, they were coworkers. At least, that was the story he was telling himself.
He pulled her keycard out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her, but she struggled to make it work. Rogan reached for it, but she brushed him off. “I can certainly get the door open,” she said.
She made an amusing spectacle, her dark hair tumbling around her face, her color high. Each attempt was followed by a soft curse. “Not so quick,” he advised. “And wait for the light to go green before you pull it back out.” Claudia gave it a few more tries before she reluctantly handed the card to him. “You do it.”
He reached around her and unlocked the door, then pushed it open. “After you.”
Claudia turned and stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance. “Thank you for everything you did. I appreciate your...efficiency.”
He held out her drink. “Well, good night then.”
She reached out for it, but miscalculated and ended up knocking the glass into his chest. The vodka sloshed onto his shirt and she reached out to wipe it away. Rogan captured her hand with his and pressed it against his chest, her delicate fingers splaying over the damp fabric of his shirt. His pulse quickened and his heart pounded against her palm.
“Can I ask you a question?” she murmured.
She raised her gaze to his and he fought the urges coursing through him. “Sure,” he said.
“If you’re thinking about kissing me, what’s stopping you?”
Was that an invitation? Or a rhetorical question? He wasn’t sure. But the scent of her hair and the sight of her lush, damp mouth was too much to resist.
At the same time, she was drunk and he wasn’t about to do something that she’d regret the next morning. He bent closer and brushed his lips against her warm cheek.
When he drew back, her green eyes were wide with surprise, her lips parted as if she were about to say something. He fought the urge to take things a step further. Then she threw her arms around his neck and took the decision out of his hands.
Her lips were soft and damp, and as the kiss spun out of control, Rogan smoothed his hands around her waist and drew her closer. So much for him loosening her up. She seemed more than willing to live in the moment, and this moment was surprisingly powerful.
A flood of desire surged inside him, the anticipation acute. And yet, he couldn’t act on it; given her condition, it would be best to make a quick retreat.
He drew away, and before she had a chance to kiss him again or invite him inside, he gently pushed her farther into the room. “Good night, Claudia,” he said, grabbing the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He turned and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. As he strode toward the lift, Rogan reviewed his last move in his mind. There was an obvious attraction between him and Claudia that couldn’t be denied. But how far was she willing to go to explore it? Once sober, would she shut him down with some excuse about professional behavior? Or would she let down her hair and indulge?
He was a good guide, and he could handle whatever her patients threw his way. But Claudia was a different matter. She seemed to put him off his game, to jumble this thoughts and tease his desire. And with so much riding on the success of this trip, could he risk adding seduction to the adventure?
But was it a risk? After all, he was a master at separating sex from emotion. It wouldn’t be any different with Claudia Mathison.
2 (#ulink_c7f81b07-7697-5dac-842f-29e191c00b26)
CLAUDIA WOKE TO a sharp rap at her hotel room door. She pushed up from the pillows and groaned, realizing that she’d slept in her clothes the night before. Squinting, she tried to make out the time, then cried out when she saw it was already past noon. She hadn’t overslept in years. The latest she allowed herself to linger in bed was 8:00 a.m., and that was only on Sundays.
She scrambled out of bed but her legs got tangled in the sheets and she lurched toward the door, her head pounding. When she pulled it open, she found Rogan standing in the hallway. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier? What’s going on? Where is everyone?”
“We’re waiting downstairs. Did you just wake up?”
“Of course, I just woke up,” she said. “If I’d been awake earlier, I would have been downstairs on time.”
“You’re wearing the same clothes you were wearing last night.”
Leave it to Rogan Quinn to state the obvious. “It’s your fault. You gave me that last drink.” She strode to the bed and began to gather her things. Then she stopped.
The events of the previous evening came flooding back into her mind. Their conversation. The way he’d touched her. The kiss. Warmth rose in her cheeks.
“I apologize, that was unfair. I was feeling sorry for myself and I drank too much. You’re not in any way culpable.”
“Thank you,” Rogan said, glancing around the room. He reached down and picked up an empty bag of crisps. “What did you do, raid the minibar?”
“I was hungry.” She stopped. “Before I go any further, I have something to say. I seem to recall that I kissed you last night. And I want to apologize if I compromised your professional integrity by doing that. I meant no disrespect.”
“We both participated in that kiss,” Rogan said. “And it was quite enjoyable, as I recall. Didn’t you like it?”
Claudia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “Of course, I— Yes, it was quite lovely.”
She sank down on the edge of the bed, a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelming her. Rogan had kissed her—or she had kissed him. The particulars really didn’t matter. Though it had been just a brief indulgence, it had been deliciously intriguing. So intriguing that she’d spent a good hour afterward stuffing herself with snacks from the minibar as she tried, with her martini-muddled mind, to analyze exactly what had transpired between them.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Her stomach roiled, and for a second she thought she might be sick. Then, an instant later, she knew she was going to be sick. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom.
The humiliation was almost more than she could bear, but there was no stopping the symptoms of a hangover. When she’d finally finished retching, she glanced up to find him watching her from the doorway of the bathroom. Claudia covered her face with her hands. “Go away!” she cried.
She heard the water running and then he was there, sitting next to her on the floor. He pressed the cool cloth to her forehead. “You look quite lovely this morning,” he said.
Claudia managed a quick laugh. “Oh, I feel lovely,” she replied, her voice filled with sarcasm. She tried to get up, but it was too much effort so she leaned back against the side of the bathtub. “I really didn’t mean what I said,” she murmured. “You’ve really been quite wonderful. And I’ve been an utter mess. You must think I’m a first-class loon.”
“No, I think you’re quite wonderful, as well,” Rogan said.
“I can take the truth,” Claudia said. “I specialize in the truth.”
