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“I don’t know.” Victor paused. “I was asleep, like you.”
“Oh, God,” she groaned.
As she scurried around the bed to retrieve her shoes and backpack, Victor couldn’t help thinking how exquisite she looked, with flushed cheeks and her dark, chestnut hair tousled about her face and shoulders.
She glanced up from tying her sneakers, eyeing him frantically. “Don’t just stand there! Get your stuff so we can get out of here!”
Scrubbing an unsteady hand over his face, Victor shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his duffel bag and helmet, then followed Tamara from the room.
When they reached the elevators, she said decisively, “I’ll go down first. We don’t want anyone to see us leaving together at this hour.”
Victor nodded. “Good idea.”
They stood staring up at the electronic panel above the elevator doors, the air between them crackling with tension and bewilderment over this strange new territory they’d just wandered into.
“Tamara—”
“Victor—”
They spoke at the same time, then looked at each other.
At that moment, the elevator arrived.
Clearly relieved, Tamara boarded quickly and stabbed the down button as if she were fleeing the serial killer they’d joked about last night.
But as the metal doors slid closed, their gazes clung almost longingly.
That was the moment Victor realized that they could never go back to the way things used to be.
Thirty minutes later, he was still brooding over Tamara as he strode down a narrow hallway to reach his apartment. Just as he inserted his key in the lock, he heard the sound of another door opening just three doors away.
“Good morning, stranger,” a sultry voice greeted him.
Victor glanced over his shoulder, meeting the sensual gaze of an attractive young woman with straight blond hair, perky breasts and long legs bared by the short skirt she’d donned for work that morning.
He flashed a lazy smile at her. “Hey, Natalia.”
“Hey, yourself,” she purred, lounging in the doorway of her apartment. “Every time I think I’ve got your schedule figured out, you prove me wrong. Did you work a double or triple shift yesterday?”
Victor chuckled. “No such thing as a ‘triple shift.’ Not technically, anyway.”
She ran an eye over him, taking in his dark jeans and boots. “But you’re just getting home from the hospital, right?”
“Right.” He edged toward his door. “And I’m pretty beat, so if it’s all the same to you—”
“How’s your family doing?” Natalia interrupted.
He bit back an impatient sigh. “They’re good.”
“When was the last time you saw everyone?”
“Two weeks ago. But I’m hanging out with them this Sunday on my day off.”
“That’s great.” Natalia sighed wistfully. “I really wish I could go with you, Victor. I adore your family, and I haven’t seen them since … well, since we stopped dating.”
Victor suppressed a pained grimace. He saw no reason to remind her that their “dating” had consisted of one take-out dinner and a few sweaty romps in the sack.
Natalia was the first person he’d met when he moved into the apartment building last year. She’d given him a friendly tour of the Alexandria neighborhood, followed by an even friendlier tour of her body hours later. With her long blond hair, green eyes and tanned curves, she looked like one of many California beach bunnies he’d encountered—and bedded—while at Stanford. So he’d been somewhat surprised to learn that Natalia was from his hometown, though he knew, of course, that Colombians come in all different shades. Upon meeting Natalia, his parents had also been pleased to discover that she was from Bogotá. They’d never made any secret of the fact that they expected Victor and his brothers to settle down with nice, respectable Colombian girls once they’d finished sowing their wild oats.
Natalia had thoroughly charmed Luis and Marcela Aguilar. By the time they left Victor’s apartment that afternoon, they were practically planning his wedding. So they’d taken it especially hard when Victor informed them that he was no longer seeing his sexy neighbor. But he’d had no other choice but to level with them. He couldn’t allow his parents to continue believing that he and Natalia had a future together when he knew better. He didn’t have room in his life for a serious relationship. Completing his residency was priority number one, so he couldn’t afford any distractions whatsoever.
After spending just one night with Tamara St. John, he already knew that she would measure an off-the-chart twenty on the Richter scale of distractions.
“Victor?”
Pulled out of his reverie, he eyed Natalia blankly. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yes,” she replied, looking slightly miffed at his inattention. “I was inviting you to dinner tomorrow night, if you’re available. And I know that’s a very big if given your crazy schedule. But if you have the night off, I’d like to have you over for dinner. I’ll cook. You bring the wine.”
Victor shook his head, smiling to soften his rejection. “Not that the offer doesn’t sound tempting, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“I am.” He paused. “But that’s not the only reason I can’t make it.”
She sighed. “Just because we’re not sleeping together anymore doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Victor.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Is that what you want, Natalia? To be friends?”
“Sure, why not? We come from the same town. We live on the same floor. Your parents love me. We enjoy each other’s company.” She grinned slyly. “And if those aren’t good enough reasons, we’re great in bed together. So we could be friends with benefits.”
Victor chuckled, rubbing his bristly jaw. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is. Look, I’m making you an offer most guys would kill to receive. No-strings-attached sex and companionship. You want someone to vent to after a long, stressful day at the hospital? I’m your woman. You want a hot, delicious meal waiting for you when you get home? Look no further. You need to work off some pent-up sexual energy? I’m all yours.”
Victor gave her a long, assessing look through narrowed eyes. “Why?”
She blinked. “Why what?”
“Why would you let any man take advantage of you like that?”
“You’re not just any man, Victor. And you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me, unless you honestly believe I’d consider it a chore to sleep with you.” She smiled suggestively. “Trust me, I wouldn’t.”
Victor regarded her another moment, then shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Mierda.”
Hearing the profanity, Natalia pouted. “So is that a no?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you sure?” She struck a seductive pose in the doorway, her mouth curving in a smile meant to entice.
But suddenly, all Victor could see were Tamara’s alluring dark eyes, the plush softness of her lips, the smooth perfection of her deep brown skin, and the way her tight, shapely butt filled out her blue scrubs. It was crazy. Here he had a sexy, beautiful woman offering to cater to his every need, and all he could think about was some prickly smart-ass who’d hated his guts from the moment they met—and probably still did.
He needed to get his head examined by one of the neurosurgeons at the hospital.
Natalia heaved a lamenting sigh. “Well, if you change your mind about my offer—any of it—you know where to find me.”
“Thanks,” Victor drawled wryly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As he turned to unlock his door, Natalia let out a soft groan that drew his gaze back to her. She was grimacing as she massaged the back of her neck with one hand. “I don’t know whether I’m stressed out from work, or I need a new mattress, but I’ve been having this terrible pain in my neck for weeks.”
Victor’s mouth twitched. “You should probably see a doctor about that.”
She gave him a pointed look. “I’ve been trying to see a doctor, but he won’t make any time for me.”
“Hmm. Then you should probably find another one.”
Chuckling at her disgruntled expression, Victor stepped inside his small apartment and closed the door behind him. After dropping his keys on the sideboard table and tossing his helmet onto the leather sofa, he started toward his bedroom. He wanted to take a hot shower and grab a few more hours of sleep before he had to return to the hospital that afternoon.
Ignoring the blinking message light on his phone, he headed into the adjoining bathroom and twisted on the shower faucet. The old building was plagued by bad plumbing, so he’d learned to give himself a head start if he wanted his water nice and steamy. Eventually, he planned to move into newer digs—someplace where he could actually enjoy hot showers that lasted longer than ten minutes. But for now, he was willing to sacrifice comfort for affordability and convenience. He’d gotten this apartment for a steal, so the money he saved went toward helping his family. Again, he had his priorities.
As he pulled off his T-shirt, his senses were filled with Tamara’s sweet fragrance that clung to the fabric. She smelled like nectarines and warm, earthy woman. Unable to resist, he buried his nose in the shirt and breathed deeply, thinking he could get very addicted to the scent of Tamara St. John.
After several moments, he dropped the T-shirt on top of the wicker clothes hamper—in case he wanted to savor it again later—and finished undressing.
As he stepped inside the steamy shower stall and reached for a bar of soap, his thoughts remained on Tamara, replaying every moment of the night they’d spent together. He could still hear the smoky, bewitching sound of her laughter, could see the quiet wonder on her face as she’d recounted the experience of saving a young girl’s life. He’d gotten chills when she spoke of her desire to become a cardiothoracic surgeon. The passion in her voice, in her glittering dark eyes, had struck a chord deep within him. He related so well to everything she’d said, he could have finished her sentences.
Without intending to, he’d found himself sharing profoundly personal things with her, things that few people knew about him. But confiding in her had felt so right, as natural as them waking up in each other’s arms.
Victor groaned softly at the memory of Tamara’s lush breasts pressed against his chest, her curvy thigh hooked around his waist. She’d felt so damn good he’d thought he was dreaming. He’d wanted nothing more than to roll her onto her back, peel her jeans and panties off her legs, and bury himself deep inside her.
With another groan, he lifted his face to the hot spray of water and closed his eyes, conjuring an image of Tamara joining him in the shower. He imagined rivulets of water streaming down her beautiful brown skin, caressing the sensual contours of her body. He imagined palming her round breasts, teasing her dark nipples into hardened peaks. As she moaned with pleasure, he visualized his hand roaming down her sleek belly before he cupped her mound and slid two fingers inside her wet, succulent heat.
Caught up in the erotic fantasy, Victor reached down and wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft. He stroked upward, then down, imagining Tamara’s legs locked around his hips as he lifted her off the floor and pinned her against the tiled wall. As the warm water cascaded over their naked limbs, he imagined thrusting into her, her breathless cries soon mingling with his very real groans.
Throwing back his head, Victor fisted himself harder and faster until he ejaculated, his seed shooting out of him. Swearing gutturally, he bowed his head and braced his hands against the wall for support. As if on cue, the water turned cold, washing over his heated, shuddering body.
“Shit,” he whispered hoarsely.
If fantasizing about Tamara could do this to him, he couldn’t even conceive of what would happen if they ever hooked up for real.
He endured the frigid temperature for as long as he could, then staggered out of the shower stall and draped a towel around his hips. When his gaze landed on the T-shirt he’d left on top of the clothes hamper—the one that smelled like Tamara—he scowled. Stalking across the small bathroom, he grabbed the shirt, balled it up and shoved it deep inside the wicker basket.
The sooner he got the damn woman out of his system, the better off he’d be.
Chapter 4
That afternoon, Tamara met her mother for lunch at The Fish Market, an Old Town landmark perched at the end of Alexandria’s historic King Street. Although the restaurant had devolved into more of a tourist trap in recent years, and the nautical decor was on the campy side, the place still served some of the best seafood in the area. Whenever Tamara and her mother were in the mood for crab cakes or greasy fish sandwiches, they knew where to go.
“Guess who I ran into yesterday,” Vonda St. John announced halfway through the meal.
Tamara glanced up from a plate of pasta and scallops to meet her mother’s gaze across the small table. “Who?”
There was an excited gleam in Vonda’s almond-shaped eyes, which Tamara had inherited—along with her mother’s high cheekbones, chocolate complexion, chestnut-colored hair and lithe, curvy physique. They looked so much alike that men often hit on them at the same time, claiming to mistake them for sisters. Considering that Vonda had only been seventeen when she gave birth to Tamara, it was no surprise that she looked young enough to pass for her twenty-six-year-old daughter’s twin. But as close as she and Tamara were, there’d never been any question of who was the parent and who was the child. After Tamara’s father skipped out on them, Vonda had dried her tears and staunchly committed herself to the task of raising a strong, fiercely independent woman who would never make the mistake of trusting the wrong man.
Tamara owed everything she was, and everything she would become, to her mother.
“Well?” she prompted when Vonda didn’t immediately respond, no doubt trying to draw out the suspense. “Who did you run into?”
“Your high school sweetheart, Morris Richmond.”
“Really?” Tamara exclaimed. “Where’d you see him?”
“At work.”
“Morris works at the Pentagon, too?”
“As of last month. He got a job as a systems analyst for one of the defense contractors, and he’s making good money.” Vonda smiled at her daughter. “Of course he asked about you. I told him you’re doing your residency at Hopewell General. He was very impressed, said he always knew you were going places. Don’t be surprised if he shows up at the hospital one day. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Not at all,” Tamara said easily. “I’ve often wondered how Morris was doing. It’d be nice to see him again.”
Her mother grinned. “He’s looking good, baby. Real good.”
Tamara chuckled, sipping her cold soda. “I’m not surprised. He was one of the cutest boys at school.”
“The smartest, too.” Nostalgia softened Vonda’s expression. “You two were such an adorable couple. I remember how Morris used to come over after school sometimes to study with you. I never had to worry about leaving you alone together, because you were both so studious and focused on your books. Acing your calculus exam was more important to you than getting inside each other’s drawers.”
“That’s what you think.” At her mother’s shocked look, Tamara laughed. “Just kidding, Ma. We never abused your trust like that.”
Vonda harrumphed. “I didn’t think so. I raised you better than that, and Morris was such a sweet, respectful young man. I really liked him.”
Tamara gave her a wry look. “Let’s not forget that he’s also the same one who broke up with me after I was named valedictorian over him.”
“He did, didn’t he?” Vonda pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head. “It takes a very special man not to be intimidated by a strong, brilliant woman with a higher IQ. You’re a force to be reckoned with, darling. Any man you eventually marry will have to be very successful in his own right so he won’t feel threatened by you.”
For no discernible reason, Tamara thought of Victor, who’d graduated at the top of his class from Stanford and seemed destined to make his mark in the field of cardiothoracic surgery. For all his faults—and he had plenty—Tamara knew that he would never feel threatened by a smart, accomplished woman. He was more than secure in his manhood, and would view someone like her as his equal.
Not that we’re ever going to be in a relationship, she quickly told herself.
“So how are things going at work?” her mother asked, twirling strands of linguini around her fork before taking a bite. “What’s the latest on the lawsuit?”
Tamara grimaced at the reminder of the hospital’s brewing scandal. “They’ve hired someone from New York to handle the lawsuit—some hotshot lawyer named Maxwell Wade,” she explained, though she and her colleagues had been instructed not to discuss the case with outsiders. But this was her mother, whom she’d always confided in. And details of the lawsuit had already been leaked to the media anyway.
“It sounds like your employer is going to need the best legal counsel money can buy,” Vonda remarked.
Tamara nodded grimly. “They are.”
After graduating from Dartmouth, she’d been so excited to return home to Alexandria to begin her residency at Hopewell General, a prestigious hospital that catered to the nation’s power elite. But Hopewell’s stellar reputation had recently come under fire after one of Tamara’s fellow interns, Terrence Matthews, had been shown the door when he was caught stealing drugs from the hospital’s pharmacy. Unfortunately, Terrence was a member of one of Virginia’s wealthiest families, who’d retaliated against the hospital by withdrawing their financial support and filing a lawsuit. The public relations fallout and pending litigation had cast a pall over Hopewell General, putting everyone—from administrators to orderlies—on edge.
