Welcome to …

The Hollywood Hills Clinic

Where doctors to the stars work miracles by day — and explore their hearts’ desires by night …

When hotshot doc James Rothsberg started the clinic six years ago he dreamed of a world-class facility, catering to Hollywood’s biggest celebrities, and his team are unrivalled in their fields.

Now, as the glare of the media spotlight grows, the Hollywood Hills Clinic is teaming up with the pro-bono Bright Hope Clinic, and James is reunited with Dr Mila Brightman … the woman he jilted at the altar!

When it comes to juggling the care of Hollywood A-listers with care for the underprivileged kids of LA anything can happen … and sizzling passions run high in the shadow of the red carpet. With everything at stake for James, Mila and the Hollywood Hills Clinic medical team their biggest challenges have only just begun!

Find out what happens in the dazzling

The Hollywood Hills Clinic miniseries

Available from April 2016!

Dear Reader,

I was thrilled to be asked to write the first story in The Hollywood Hills Clinic series. It was wonderful to work with so many amazing authors and to hear the exciting plans that they had for their characters.

I always start out with a clear plan for my heroes and heroines, and then they just tend to stray off-course—but never more so than Freya and Zack. I kept trying to warn them that they might live to regret their one night of sizzling passion. They chose not to listen!

Truly, I don’t blame them a bit.

I can’t wait to read the entire continuity and see how the other heroes and heroines behaved.

Or not!

Happy reading!

Carol x

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation, and she put down the truth—’writing’. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered ‘swimming’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Seduced by the Heart Surgeon
(The Hollywood Hills Clinic, Book 1)
Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU ALREADY KNOW, don’t you, Freya?’

‘Know what?’ Freya frowned as she attempted to pull up the zipper on her friend Beth’s wedding dress. It had slipped up easily at the final fitting just last week so Freya gave it another tug but it refused to budge. ‘Have you...?’

Freya stopped herself from continuing with the question. She, more than most, knew just how much damage that a throwaway comment about weight could cause and she certainly didn’t want to inflict that pain on Beth. Especially not on her wedding day, but, hell, the dress was tight.

Then it dawned on Freya why she was having so much trouble getting Beth into her wedding dress. Beth had declined Freya’s offer of champagne as they prepared for her late afternoon wedding and the girls’ night in at Freya’s apartment last week had been a very tame affair.

Freya worked it out just a split second before her friend said it.

‘I’m pregnant!’

Oh, Freya was very grateful for that split second because her eyes had screwed closed as yet another friend revealed their happy news, but by the time Beth had turned around, Freya had composed herself and was smiling.

‘That’s fantastic news, Beth.’

‘Don’t pretend that you didn’t know.’

‘I honestly had no idea,’ Freya admitted.

‘I didn’t have even one of the cocktails you’d made!’

‘I thought it was a bit odd,’ Freya admitted, because Beth loved a drink. ‘I just believed you when you said that you were detoxing for the wedding.’

Oh, it had been a tame night. Two of the women were pregnant, one was breastfeeding and now Freya understood why Beth had also declined the cocktails that Freya had prepared. For Freya, it had been a long night of being told, It will be your turn soon, and asked, Are you still not seeing anyone? Her friends didn’t know about her fertility issues, so they hadn’t been deliberately insensitive. She could have told them that day that she’d had blood work done and when Hilary was back from her trip she would be having some further tests to see if she might be a candidate for IVF through an egg donor.

Freya didn’t really open up to anyone, though, not fully.

‘So when did you find out?’ Freya asked Beth.

‘Two weeks ago. I was devastated at first, I have to admit.’

‘Devastated?’ Freya checked. She knew very well that Beth and Neil both wanted a family and so she wondered if they had found out that there was something wrong with the baby.

‘Well, I was very upset,’ Beth clarified. ‘We’ve been saving up for the honeymoon for ages and had paid for all drinks to be included...’ Beth rolled her eyes at the perceived inconvenience. ‘I’m fine about it now.’

Fine!

Freya did her best not to dwell on that word.

Finally the zip was up and she arranged the huge bow on Beth’s dress.

Freya knew that she overthought everything but, really, to use the word fine to describe the news that you were pregnant irked her!

‘Have you told your parents?’ Freya asked once she had unclenched her jaw.

‘Not yet. Neil’s going to reveal the news during the speeches, so we can capture everyone’s expressions. Can you warn the cameraman?’

‘Sure.’

‘You won’t forget?’

‘I never forget,’ Freya said. ‘That’s why you’ve got me planning your wedding, remember!’

Oh, Freya was on edge and trying not to be but Beth really was a bridezilla.

‘Okay, done. Wow. You look amazing!’ Freya said. ‘Simply stunning.’

No one could ever tell when Freya was lying. It was why she was so successful in PR.

The dress that Beth had chosen was a long sheath of ivory tulle, tied in the middle with a huge satin bow.

Like an oddly wrapped parcel, Freya thought.

Worse, Beth had chosen similar for Freya to wear. Hers was knee-length, though, and the shade of Freya’s dress was Antique White. Freya felt as if she was wearing an old teabag. Her brunette hair had been teased into curls and Beth had insisted on red lips for them both. The only saving grace was that the bow on Freya’s dress was smaller.

They looked like two poodles who’d been badly clipped, Freya thought as she stared at their reflections.

‘Are you wearing a bra?’ Beth checked.

‘It didn’t work with the dress,’ Freya said.

‘Well, put some plasters on them,’ Beth said. ‘I don’t want your nipples in my photos.’

There was a knock at the door and, of course, brides didn’t answer doors, so Freya opened it and smiled when she saw Beth’s father, realising it was time for her to head down and check the last-minute details.

‘Right, I’m going to go down and make sure everything is in place,’ Freya said. ‘Enjoy every moment and leave all the worrying to me.’

‘I shall.’ Beth nodded. ‘It’s all set for midnight?’

‘It is.’

‘I want everyone watching us kiss as we ring in the New Year.’

‘They shall be.’

‘Thanks for organising everything.’

‘Well, it’s been a lot more fun sorting out flowers and table plans than getting everyone at The Hills to glam up for the new brochure...’

‘They’re already a glam lot.’

‘I know they are.’ That hadn’t been what Freya had meant but there wasn’t time for all that now. ‘I’ll see you down in the hotel chapel.’

‘Don’t forget the plasters,’ Beth reminded her. Freya smiled and picked up her posy of red flowers to match her red lips then stepped out of the room and let out a very long breath.

Again she had lied. This wedding had been hell to organise.

Two of the hotels that Beth and Neil had chosen as potential venues had explained that their stairways and escalators were for all of their guests, especially on New Year’s Eve. It had been difficult to find somewhere to accommodate all their demands but Freya had achieved it.

The wedding was at five, then dinner and speeches, but instead of being able to relax afterwards she had to keep the cameraman and photographer sober, as well as get two hundred guests out of the ballroom and onto the main staircase. Oh, and her ex, Edward, was going to be there.

As he had been at three other weddings she’d attended this year.

Freya was so over weddings!

She knew that her PR skills were a very large reason that Beth had chosen her to be bridesmaid.

It didn’t offend Freya.

To survive as top PR consultant in LA, you needed to keep in with your contacts. Beth was a journalist, and the many hours that Freya had spent organising the wedding would be returned in kind.

It was called networking and Freya was very good at that.

Freya got to her hotel room to freshen up. She checked her make-up and wished she hadn’t—it was far too much.

She really didn’t like this dress and how much it revealed of her shoulders. Her upper back was bare too and she felt exposed. Freya turned and craned her neck and told herself that everyone in the chapel would be looking at the bride rather than the bridesmaid’s spinal column.

As always, she checked her phone and saw that there were several messages and missed calls from her brother, James.

Work.

Freya knew that it would be.

James Rothsberg was the cosmetic surgeon in LA and for the past six years he had poured everything into The Hollywood Hills Medical Center. It was an amazing facility frequented by the rich and famous. Affectionately known as The Hills, it had everything from obstetrics to intensive care and was the top tier of health care. Two years ago James had asked Freya to come on board and she had put her PR skills to excellent commercial use.

Till now.

It was time to give back, she had told James.

And he’d listened.

Which was why, instead of rolling her eyes at being called late afternoon on New Year’s Eve, Freya called her brother.

‘Hi, James,’ Freya said. ‘You’ve been trying to get hold of me.’

‘I have,’ James said. ‘Freya, I need you at The Hills tomorrow at nine.’

‘On New Year’s Day?’ Freya checked.

‘I’ve just taken a call from Geoff, and Paulo’s condition has deteriorated. I’ve just spoken with Zackary and he’s agreed to come in and be interviewed tomorrow instead of waiting till Monday.’

Freya’s eyes screwed closed as James carried on talking.

‘I need you to be at the interview.’

‘Me?’ Freya tried to keep the quake from her voice. ‘Since when did I sit in on the hiring of medical personnel?’

‘Since you talked me into taking on charitable cases,’ James answered tartly. ‘And, given we’re going to be asking him to donate his skills for nothing...’

‘He already knows that he’ll be doing some pro bono work.’

‘Freya?’

She could hear the question in her brother’s voice at her reluctance to sit in on the interview. After all, Freya had been the one pushing for The Hills to embrace this. Freya had been the one looking into a suitable charity to properly support and now things were finally moving along. But what James didn’t understand was that the very seemingly together, always-very-much-in-control Freya had got herself into a little pickle that her older brother didn’t know about.

There was a big pickle her brother didn’t know about either, namely that the charity she’d found was headed by his ex, Mila Brightman, but it was the other pickle in the jar that Freya was wrestling with now.

She had already been dreading meeting the hotshot cardiac surgeon Zackary Carlton.

Or Zack, as she’d found out he’d prefer to be known.

They had flirted via emails.

Not much.

It felt massive to Freya, though.

‘I need you there tomorrow at nine,’ James said. ‘I’m sure he’s going to have questions about the promotional side of things and I want a press release out saying that we have Zackary on board.’

‘Zack!’ Freya said. ‘He prefers to be called Zack.’

‘Noted,’ James responded. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at nine. I’ll flick over some details tonight.’

‘Thanks.’

Oh, God.

After the tame girls’ night with her smug married friends, Freya had poured another cocktail and opened up her laptop and located a certain series of emails.

She never got involved with people she worked with. Actually, Freya really didn’t get too involved full stop. But this teeny tiny flirt had been fun and Zack had outright asked if she was single.

Several daiquiris later, when Freya, who took her health seriously and didn’t often drink, had decided to embrace the merits of not being married, she had typed her response back.

Very single. (Don’t tell James.)

And now, tomorrow, she had to face him.

His response had made her blush and it was making her blush now.

I never kiss and tell.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get the role, Freya thought, but who was she kidding? James wanted Zack Carlton on board, so much so that he had him currently housed in a luxury apartment that The Hills owned and was interviewing him on New Year’s Day.

It had been a stupid flirt, a tiny one, but it had been completely out of character for her, and not just professionally. Freya wasn’t a flirty person at all, she was far too controlled for that.

Blame it on the daiquiris.

Actually, she couldn’t because the flirt had started a couple of emails prior to that.

She sighed. He was probably fifty and married with sixteen children. She’d blush about it tomorrow, but right now she had to deal with the wedding.

First, though, she texted her neighbour Red. Freya had a late checkout but hadn’t been intending to use it as she wanted to get home to her little dog, Cleo. Instead, she asked Red if he would let her out and feed her in the morning.

With that sorted she went to go but then Freya caught sight of her bare shoulders; she turned and looked again at her spine.

It had been that sight that had terrified James. Freya could still remember his shocked reaction as he had sat her up so that the doctor could listen to her chest.

‘Freya!’

She had always kept this part of her body covered, hiding her secret, denying to everyone she had a problem, partying her way through her parents’ appalling divorce and pretending she didn’t care.

It was hard enough having high-profile actors as parents and wearing the Rothsberg name, but when that marriage had ended, to have it played out over the media had been agony.

And when a journalist had pointed out that Freya was just a little bit younger than her father’s latest girlfriend, a magazine had taken it one nasty step further and pointed out that Freya was also considerably larger.

Her comfort during the very public break-up had, till then, been food and she’d had to endure the spotlight that had shone on her parents suddenly widening to accommodate both herself and James.

She had rigorously denied herself the comfort of food.

Very rigorously!

And she had also partied hard.

James had hauled her out of a nightclub and, too weak to row with her brother, Freya had collapsed and been rushed to hospital.

There she had been stripped and put into a gown and then James had been allowed back in, and that was when he had seen her spine and the true extent of her problem had been exposed.

Now, fourteen years later, she would stand today with the most loathed part of her body on show and, joy of joys, eat at the top table.

Freya was better now—so, so much better.

Recovered, healed, whatever the best word was, but there were still hurts and repercussions that she had to deal with, and one of the big ones was that she rarely had a period.

Seriously rarely.

Once, maybe twice a year.

‘It’s your own fault,’ Freya told her reflection, and then came away from the mirror and headed out to the elevator.

She got in and closed her eyes, resting against the wall as she angled her neck to release tension. When she opened them, instead of being on the mezzanine level, she was on the ground floor, and looking into the eyes of Him!

‘Well, you prove my theory,’ he said in a deep, sexy voice.

It was Him!

The man she had seen a few days ago.

Freya had been speaking with the hotel’s events coordinator and working out how long they would need to freeze the escalators for, when they’d both stopped talking as the sound of Cuban heels had rung out on the marble floor. And they had stopped talking with good reason. Tall, tanned, with shaggy, curly black hair, he had walked past them in dark jeans and tight T-shirt, carrying a large backpack. He had been just so sexy that he’d simply stopped conversations. Both women had watched him go up to the desk to check in and then shared a guilty smile once they’d finished checking him out.

And now Freya was in the lift with Him.

‘And your theory is?’ Freya asked.

‘That all the good girls are taken.’ He asked her which floor she wanted. ‘I’ve already pressed...’ Actually, no, her selection had been erased. ‘The mezzanine level.’ She watched as long suntanned fingers pressed said level and then he pressed for floor twenty-eight and she wished, how she wished, she had given the thirtieth floor as her choice of destination, just for a minute or two more alone with him.

‘Shouldn’t brides be smiling on their wedding day?’ he asked, and Freya tried to place his accent.

‘Believe me, the bride is smiling,’ Freya said in a dry voice. ‘I’m the bridesmaid.’

‘Did I hear the word maid?’

Freya laughed at the cheeky inference and the slow smile he gave in return had her stomach tighten. Sexy green eyes were looking right at her, and he didn’t make her feel like an old maid in the least...

Freya blinked at her own thought process.

The hotel events coordinator had, when they’d been watching him, sighed that he was probably gay and Freya had said if that were the case, again, then she really had to get out of LA.

Oh, he was so not gay. His eyes might as well be blowtorches because he had her face just turn to fire.

Sadly the doors pinged open.

‘Enjoy the wedding...’ he said.

‘Oh, I shan’t, it’s going to be a very long evening,’ Freya replied, peeling herself from the wall, when she really didn’t want to get out.

‘Yeah, I get it.’ he said. ‘I do my best to avoid weddings.’ He met her eyes. ‘Especially my own.’

Was he telling her that he was single?

She thought back to the flirty emails that she would live to regret tomorrow, but flirting was kind of fun, Freya was finding out, and she was very single.

‘And me,’ Freya said.

The elevator doors were open but the conversation wasn’t closed and he put one big boot out to keep them open as he asked Freya a question. ‘Why did she want a big white wedding on a Thursday?’

‘Because it’s New Year’s Eve.’

‘So it is! Well, thanks for reminding me, I’d be in trouble if I didn’t call home.’

‘You’re Australian?’ Freya asked, now that she’d placed his accent.

He nodded.

‘LA’s a long way from home.’

‘It is,’ he answered. ‘And I’m suddenly lonely.’

He didn’t look lonely in the least, not with that smile.

‘Poor you,’ Freya replied, and met his smouldering gaze. His deep green eyes were thickly lashed and she looked down to a dark red mouth and stubbled jaw.

He was so hot, so direct, so bad, so sexy and her reaction to him so acute that Freya could possibly have forgiven herself if she’d hit the button to close the doors and leapt up onto those lean hips.

‘I’d better go,’ she said, because, yes, she’d better. ‘It was nice to meet you...’ Freya fished for his name.

‘We don’t need names, do we?’

She ought to have been offended, Freya thought. She ought to be very, very offended and yet she wasn’t.

‘Enjoy the wedding,’ he offered, ‘and thanks for messing up my theory.’

‘But I haven’t,’ Freya said, simply unable to resist prolonging this delicious, rare flirt and, just as when she had hit ‘send’ on that blasted email, she offered a verbal response that would be just as hard to retract. ‘I’m not a good girl.’

‘It would seem that you are,’ he answered smoothly, ‘given that you’re about to get out.’

The bow around her middle was killing Freya. She wanted to tear it off, and the dress too, and stamp on them. Instead she stood as his eyes performed a long and slow perusal of her aroused body and Beth would be furious because her nipples were throbbing. They needed his mouth. Oh, yes, they did.

Oh, she was in no position to take offence as his gaze lingered and lingered, because Freya was doing the exact same thing to him. Down that wide chest her eyes went. He was wearing a silver-grey T-shirt and he too had two nipples, she knew that because she counted them slowly and carefully. Then she looked down to his flat stomach. His T-shirt was half-tucked in and she fought not to lift it free. He had on a heavy leather belt that made her thighs want to press together. She looked at the thick bulge in his jeans and was frustrated by the button-up flies, because she’d break her nails tearing at them just to get to him. What the hell was happening? Freya wondered. Because she completely wanted to sink to her knees and to do just that.

It was, for Freya, the oddest feeling. She wasn’t very free in bed and she wasn’t the most generous lover. She just hoped to have her needs met. ‘One for you, one for me’ type of thing, and if her needs weren’t met then she’d lie twitching with resentment. Actually, even if they were met, it was so underwhelming that she lay twitching anyway, wondering why she couldn’t enjoy it. Freya controlled everything that went in her mouth and what she was looking at now wasn’t one of them.

Freya licked her lips, not deliberately but very provocatively, it would seem, because he just grew before her eyes. She watched as that lovely hand that had earlier pressed the button had no choice but to make a little room and he rearranged himself to her eyes.

Freya tore them from his bulging crotch and he gave her a slow, appreciative smile in reward for her lovely effort to get him so hard and so soon.

‘I’m impressed,’ he said.

‘With what?’ Freya breathed. She could hardly speak.

‘It takes great skill to be such a turn-on in that dress.’

And Freya had more than seen just how turned on he was. ‘I have to go.’

‘Then go.’

He didn’t remove his boot from the door, and Freya could either step over his leg or walk around him. The scent of him mingled with her arousal and Freya had this terrifying moment of absolute conviction that she wasn’t going to make it to the chapel in time.

He was sex.

And suddenly, for the first time in her life, so was she.

Freya didn’t walk around him, she put one high-heeled foot over his calf and proceeded to step over the hurdle.

She’d never gotten over them at school and was having the same trouble now.

He was terribly polite, for such a filthy animal he really was extremely polite, because his hand settled on her arm to help her over.

Oh, she needed help because the feel of his warm fingers on her bare skin had Freya wanting to straddle his calf and she knew that the bastard knew it.

‘Do you want to come up for a drink?’ he offered in that low, sexy, deep voice but, really, why bother attempting to be polite? Freya thought. A drink was the very last thing on either of their minds.

‘I have a wedding to get to,’ Freya croaked. ‘I really do.’

‘Then you’d better go, or you’re going to be extremely unpresentable very soon.’

Oh, those eyes, Freya thought, unwilling to leave the heat of his gaze, but then she looked at his mouth as he stated what he’d already achieved.

‘I want to mess you up,’ he said. ‘I want you dishevelled.’

She deserved a gold medal and the national anthem sung in her honour because she had made it over his leg. Freya tried to walk off, she really did, but her muscles were protesting and her damp knickers were demanding that she take them off.

‘Hey,’ he called to her blushing shoulders. She could feel his eyes on her spine and it didn’t make her feel ill, instead it made Freya, foolishly, dangerously, turn around. ‘If the wedding gets to be a bit...’ He shrugged. And then, with utter and no doubt practised ease, he gave her a free pass to heaven. ‘Room 2812.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘FREYA?’ THE HOTEL’S events coordinator prompted when Freya didn’t answer her question.

‘I was just taking it all in,’ Freya said, rather than admit her mind was still back in the elevator. She looked around the ballroom. ‘Yes, Beth’s going to be very pleased.’

The tables were dressed in red but instead of having flowers as centrepieces Beth had decided on huge bows. There were bows on the chairs too. Freya’s carefully worded response told the hotel events coordinator that she had done an amazing job with terrible directions.

They shared another small smile and Freya nearly burst out laughing, a part of her wanting to tell the other woman about her little...er...encounter with the man they’d been admiring a few days ago. Instead, she headed off to the chapel where guests were starting to arrive, hugging the memory to herself and smiling. It had been fun and Freya had never had fun like that.

Freya knew that she was a private, prickly person.

She was, thanks to her psychology degree that lay languishing unused on her résumé, very self-aware. And her very self-aware self knew why she didn’t let her guard down.

Freya didn’t trust anyone with her feelings.

And walking towards her was yet another reason why.

Edward!

‘Freya, we have to stop meeting like this.’ He smiled.

‘Well, now that all our friends are married, we shall,’ Freya answered coolly.

‘Won’t I be getting an invite to yours?’ Edward asked.

‘That would be a no,’ Freya said.

‘Are you here with anyone?’

Freya was not going to prolong this conversation so she gave him a very tight smile and walked off.

Oh, how she loathed him.

He was married now and had twins but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to chat her up at the last wedding they’d been at. Freya knew, because she’d been dealing with the RSVPs, that Cathy, his wife, wasn’t attending tonight as one of their children was unwell.

Oh, a come-on from Edward she so did not need.

Not when she had Mr Room 2812, Freya thought with a sudden smile.

Of course she wouldn’t be taking him up on his offer but it had been such, such a nice offer to have that it got her through the wedding and then the meal.

The endless five-course meal at the top table.

It was hard to explain, even to herself, but set menus were for Freya the hardest.

Chicken or beef was served alternatively and Freya let out a small breath of relief that she was given chicken, which would have been her choice.

‘Would you mind...?’ Beth’s mother said. ‘I don’t like red meat.’

‘Of course.’ Freya smiled, to show that it didn’t matter in the least to her, and they swapped plates.

She had been worried about the meal at the wedding and had thought about talking to her friend, Mila, about it. She sometimes discussed her eating disorder with Mila, because Mila didn’t treat Freya as if she had two heads and tiptoe around her. But weddings were a bit of a touchy subject between Freya and Mila, given James had jilted her friend at the altar. Also, she was avoiding Mila a bit at the moment, because Freya still hadn’t told James that the Bright Hope Clinic charity was run by his ex-fiancée.

James didn’t even know they’d remained friends.

Oh, it was a long dinner and then came the speeches.

Freya glared at the cameraman, who was getting stuck into the champagne. She would have preferred Beth to have chosen someone else, but the wedding budget was getting tight, Beth had said. Freya had gently suggested losing a few bows but that hadn’t gone down well.

‘My wife and I have an extra surprise for you all,’ Neil said. ‘You’ll be thrilled to know that the stork arrived early....’

The whole room melted and clapped and the cameraman must have seen Freya’s stern glare because he panned to the guests and then back to the happy couple. Neil made a joke about more free cocktails for him on their cruise. This had Freya’s jaw tense.

Then the dancing started but Freya still couldn’t relax as Beth had yet more requests.

‘I want him to film messages for us from all the guests.’

‘I know that you do.’

‘But I don’t want the messages to just be about the baby,’ Beth said. ‘I want them mainly to be about me.’

Me, me, me, me, me, Freya thought as she nodded and smiled.

Freya took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and then Edward came over. ‘You’re looking gorgeous, Freya,’ he said.

She looked terrible, as Mr Room 2812 had so sexily pointed out!

‘Can I get you another drink?’ Edward offered.

‘No, thank you.’

‘You were blonde last time I saw you,’ he said. ‘You’ve gone back to brunette.’

‘Really?’ Freya’s response was sarcastic. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

‘I’m actually staying here tonight,’ Edward said. ‘How about a dance for old times’ sake?’

‘How about I throw this champagne in your face?’

Freya walked off with her drink and headed outside to drag the cool night air into her lungs. She loved LA in winter and she promised to take herself riding some time soon. It was her best method for relaxing and she had been introduced to it when she had been in rehab.

Freya never cried.

Not even in rehab had she let them break her but tonight she suddenly felt close.

It wasn’t Edward, she harboured no hidden feelings for him—well, no nice ones.

It was how they’d ended things that still stung, all these years on.

Her long stint in rehab had been spread far and wide across the media and everyone had thought she’d been on drugs. At the age of twenty-three, when they’d started dating, he’d asked about it and Freya had told him about her eating disorder.

It had been hard to reveal but she’d pushed on and had told him she was recovered, or healed, or whatever the best word was. But when she’d told him that she probably couldn’t have children he had, on the spot, dumped her and accused her of stringing him along. It had felt as if Edward had only been dating her on the assumption that one day she’d be pregnant.

‘I thought we were enjoying each other’s company,’ Freya had said. ‘Not looking for future mating partners.’

‘Well, it’s preferable to have that option,’ had been his callous response.

It had hurt, it had been such a horrible blow to her recovering self, but she had refused to let it plunge her back into hell.

Freya knew she should go back inside but she could not face Edward.

Did he think she’d have an affair, that married men were all that was left? Oh, no, she would rather, far rather, get in that elevator and...

Why not? Freya thought.

They’d both, in that brief exchange, stated that they were single.

And she’d promised this coming year to do more of the things she liked and to try new things.

No.

Freya simply couldn’t see it.

Going up and knocking on Sexy Bastard’s door just for sex.

Or maybe he’d left it open and she would just slip in.

Actually, Freya could see it.

And she had promised to keep her New Year’s resolutions...

New Year.

Yikes! Freya remembered a little too late that she had to get everyone out for the photo shoot and the next twenty minutes were frantic indeed.

It had been a long and difficult night, Freya thought, and a part of her longed to just head upstairs and to find out what simply letting go and having fun actually meant.

* * *

An aching part of Zack had really wished she would head up!

He’d arrived back in his room so turned on and waiting.

Come on, he’d thought.

God knew, he’d needed the distraction.

He’d unlatched the door and lain on the bed, hands behind his head.

She was stunning.

Dark eyes, dark hair and that mouth... She’d looked a little familiar but all he had ever seen of LA till now had been the airport so Zack had shrugged that thought off. It would come to him overnight.

Would she?

Of course she would. The attraction had been through the roof but by ten he’d downgraded his expectations because the speeches were surely well over with.

By eleven-thirty he’d woken from a doze and stared out to the LA night.

Not at the city but at the mountains beyond and he knew he had to ring his parents before the lines got busy. He got up and took out his cellphone and took a steadying breath before he made the call.

Zack was thirty-three and the last time he’d been home, a couple of years ago, he’d been the same age as his brother Toby had been when he had died.

Except Toby had been married and working in the family practice and his wife, Alice, had wanted to start a family.

Whereas Zack, as his parents had constantly pointed out, was a drifter.

He was a highly skilled paediatric cardiac surgeon, Zack had riposted, but that was just boasting, he was told. And what good were his skills when they were so badly needed in Kurranda, the remote outback town where he and Toby had been raised.

He could picture the phone ringing in the hall. Reception was haphazard there and the landline to the family doctor really was a lifeline for the community.

His mother answered on the third ring.

‘Hey, Mum,’ Zack said. ‘Happy New Year.’

‘I’m sure it is where you are.’

Zack closed his eyes, it was just more of the same.

‘How’s Nepal?’

‘I’m in LA,’ Zack answered.

‘I thought you had to be in Nepal.’

‘I did have to be there for Christmas,’ Zack answered. ‘There was an operation I wanted to do before I left but we had to wait for some equipment to arrive. I would have been home if I could.’

‘Well, why aren’t you now?’

‘Because I’ve got an interview tomorrow.’

‘In LA?’

‘It’s a top medical centre. They’ve got some of the most amazing equipment and facilities and I don’t want to let that side of things slide...’ Zack stopped even attempting to explain. He did not want to argue with his mother. Judy Carlton simply could not, would not, get it, and Zack was over trying to explain. ‘Is Dad there?’

‘You just missed him. He got called out for Tara. Do you remember her?’

Of course he damn well remembered, they’d been friends. What his mother didn’t know was that they had been each other’s first. Zack had fought to stop that getting out as Tara’s father was very religious.

Zack stayed silent.

‘She married Jed.’

‘Yep.’

‘Well, the baby’s not due till the end of January but it looks as if she might deliver early and it’s breech. I can’t talk for long, they might need the air ambulance...’

‘I get it.’ Zack said. ‘Will you wish Dad a happy New Year for me and could you—?’

‘Zack,’ his mum broke in, ‘you should be here to say it to him for yourself. Even if you’d just come home on a stopover it would have been something.’

‘I would have but this interview is being slotted in, they need me to start straight away. There’s a very sick child—’

‘Oh, I don’t have time for your fancy position,’ Judy said. ‘I’ll pass on to Tara and her husband how well you’re doing, shall I?’

Zack knew that translated to, You should be back here, scrubbing in with your father, rather than Tara having to be airlifted. ‘That was a low blow.’

‘I know.’ His mother didn’t quite apologise. ‘I’m tired, Zack, and your dad is too. He didn’t get any break over Christmas and the place just seems to be getting busier. So much for retiring.’

Zack closed his eyes. Sometimes he wished he could just give up on his own dreams and give them the solution they wanted.

‘By now you and Toby...’ Judy swallowed and Zack then heard his mother, a very strong woman, give way to tears. New Year always did that to her and this coming year marked another difficult milestone. ‘It will be ten years soon.’

‘I know it will.’

At the beginning of February it would be ten years since Toby had died.

He and Zack had been on a weekend away. Both had been good horsemen but a snake had spooked Toby’s horse and thrown him off.

Zack looked out of the hotel window again and out towards the dark shadows of the hills and thought of the red earth of home. Even if he didn’t want to be there for ever he missed it at times and now was one of those times. As he stood there he remembered too the agony of hours spent with his brother, waiting for help to arrive while knowing there was none to be had.

At the age of thirty-one Toby had died in his younger brother’s arms.

Zack knew his mother needed to talk and so he forgot about the sniping and let her.

‘Things would be so different if he was still alive. He loved the clinic. Toby and your father had such plans for it. Alice is pregnant again by her new husband.’

He was hardly her new husband, Zack thought. Alice had been remarried for seven years.

‘Mum, she’s allowed to be happy.’

‘She and Toby were so happy, though,’ Judy said. ‘I wanted grandchildren.’

‘I know.’

‘And that’s not going to happen, is it?’

‘No.’

‘Are you seeing someone?’

She asked him the same question every time they spoke and it was always the same answer he gave. ‘No one serious.’

‘Zack...?’

‘What?’ Zack said, and when there was silence he told her the truth. ‘Mum, I won’t be giving you grandchildren.’

Zack was direct, yes. There was no point giving her false hope. The life his parents had planned for him wasn’t the one he wanted. He never wanted to be tied down, not to one person and not to one place.

Zack wasn’t cruel, though.

What he didn’t tell his mother was that Toby had been far from happy with his life.

That was the reason Toby had called him up and asked if he’d join him on a weekend away. There, in the outback, lying by a fire, looking up at the stars, Toby had told him the truth—that he felt stifled, and wanted away, not just from Kurranda and the medical practice but also from his marriage.

Zack had been stunned. He’d thought that Alice and Toby, childhood sweethearts, had been so happy but Toby had told him that, no, things hadn’t been good for a very long while.

It had been a long night spent talking, sometimes seriously, but also they’d shared laughter, not knowing what was to come the very next day.

Toby hadn’t quite taken that secret to his grave, it had been left with Zack. He’d never shared it with anyone and it weighed heavily inside.

‘I really do have to go,’ Judy said. ‘I’d better head over there now in case your dad needs help to organise the air ambulance and things...’ His mother wasn’t a doctor or nurse but she was a huge part of the fabric of the town. She would liaise with the air ambulance and locals and make sure the transfer was seamless. Then she’d have Tara’s parents over for coffee and a meal as they awaited news.

That was who his mother was.

‘Happy New Year,’ Zack said.

Judy made a small huffing noise.

His parents had decided, on Toby’s death and Zack’s failure to settle, that there could be no more happy years.

‘Happy New Year, Zack,’ Judy said, but even that came out with a slight edge. Zack made sure he was happy, that he lived, that he grabbed this rare gift by the throat and got every bit of life out of it.

He’d promised his brother he would.

‘Mum,’ Zack suddenly said. ‘I’ll come home for a visit in April. Tell Dad that.’

‘For how long?’

‘I’m not sure, but I’ll be back to see you both then.’

He ended the call and though he could not stand the thought of living back there, and being in a place where everyone knew your business, it didn’t mean he didn’t love nature and space and the people.

And, though things were strained, he loved his family.

Zack lay on the bed and closed his eyes but he couldn’t unwind. Speaking with his parents always left him feeling like that. The plans his parents had had for him had been set in stone from the day he was born. They just hadn’t thought to consult the baby they had made.

He was to study medicine in Melbourne as his father and brother had done, but even before he had left for the city Zack had known in his heart that he wasn’t coming back.

Tara had known it too.

Of course he remembered Tara.

Not just the hot, sexy kisses behind a barn and sultry outback nights, more he remembered a conversation that had taken place the night before he’d left as they’d lain in each other’s arms. ‘You’re not coming back, are you?’ Tara had asked.

‘You talk as if I’m leaving the country. I’m only going to Melbourne. I’ll be back for the summer breaks.’ Even at eighteen he’d been direct. ‘But, no, I can’t see myself here, Tara.’

‘And I don’t want to be there,’ Tara said. She was a country girl and loved it and neither wanted to change or to change the other.

‘Have you told your parents?’ she asked.

‘I’ve tried,’ Zack said. ‘They don’t understand.’

He was still trying.

And all these years later they still didn’t understand.

Zack went to pour a drink but the half-bottle of wine was empty and he wasn’t a big fan of American beer.

He was about to ring for room service but, still churned up from the conversation with his mother, he pulled on his boots again and took the elevator down, but it only took him to the mezzanine level and he decided to take the escalator down to the bar.

There were people everywhere, all standing on the stairs, and then he found out why.

The wedding.

‘You’ll have to use the elevators if you want to get to the ground floor,’ someone told him, and they sounded annoyed. ‘The escalators and stairs are in use.’

And there was the woman from said elevator, organising the wedding party, telling people to step back or to stand a fraction more to the left.

Zack watched as a gentleman came over to her and whatever she said had him step abruptly back.

Oh, she was a snappy, bossy little thing, Zack thought.

Not with him, though.

And then she looked up.

Oh, my... Freya thought, and another of Edward’s sleazy come-ons left her mind.

If Mr 2812 had been sexy before, he was sinfully so now—dishevelled and just raw male, he made her toes curl in her very painful shoes. His hair was messy, his T-shirt was all crumpled and, alongside all the suits and formal clothes, in those dark jeans and tight T-shirt he stood out, deliciously so.

Freya dragged her mind away from rude thoughts. This shot was important and the countdown had started. Beth and Neil were in position and everyone was in place and she should be able to relax soon. All she had to do was wave the happy couple off and the rest of the night was hers.

Concentrate, Freya.

She couldn’t.

There was just this prickling awareness all over her as she recalled his scent and the feel of his hand on her arm.

Oh, God. She gazed up at him and hoped her eyes weren’t frantic, but that was how she suddenly felt—frantic for him.

‘Ten!’ everybody shouted. ‘Nine!’

They could not stop staring and, as the countdown drew to its conclusion, as everyone started cheering and kissing, Beth’s carefully organised photos were ruined by a tall guy bursting through and dashing down the stairs.

‘Auld Lang Syne’ was being sung out around them as his hands took her by the upper arms. Briefly she wondered why, instead of kissing her as she badly needed him to do, he was moving her away. But then Freya found out exactly why.

This wasn’t a kiss suitable for public exposure.

They were in a small booth to the side of the hotel’s reception when his mouth first met hers. They came together so hard that their teeth met and his tongue was strong and thick and very indecent. Her hips were held by him, and animal passion, which had never taken up residence in Freya before, rapidly made itself right at home.

Her hands were pressing into his chest, not to push him away, just to feel him, to rub those solid muscles beneath greedy palms. Then they went up to his head and her fingers dug into his hair. She kissed him back on tiptoe, so that her heels lifted up out of her shoes in an attempt to scale him.

He pulled back and gave her an intense look and there was no mention of going up for a drink.

‘I have to get back...’ It was a feeble protest she made. ‘I just need ten more minutes to sort the wedding party out.’

‘We can’t wait.’

His erection was in her groin and Freya herself was pressing hard into him.

‘I have to make sure that they get off okay...’

He peered out.

‘They’re waving and the bride is about to throw the bouquet. Do you want to go and try to catch it?’

The question was a loaded one.

What was she looking for—an amazing night with no names, or to dash off and catch the bouquet and the dream that it might one day be her?

‘God, no,’ Freya said. She was more than happy with being a third-time bridesmaid and so she took his head in her hands and got back to that mouth for one more deep kiss before they hit the elevators.

Freya pressed the button for the twenty-eighth floor.

‘You remembered,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes!’

CHAPTER THREE

SADLY FOR THEM the elevator was full.

The wedding guests were dispersing and either heading to their rooms or to the bars. There were many, many opportunities for Freya to change her mind on the long and frustrating ride to the twenty-eighth floor and say that this was a terrible idea and so not like her.

It never entered Freya’s head to do so.

Her rigid, controlled life was in desperate need of fun and adventure, and he offered that and more.

He was beautiful.

Even with her back to him she could feel the energy between them, it was utter attraction and arousal at its most basic and Freya could not wait to indulge.

‘What floor are you on?’ he asked, running a finger over her bare shoulder as they crawled towards her floor. His touch was electric and, yes, it was terribly tempting to get off at the tenth floor, but there might be a problem as she hadn’t packed her toiletry bag with a wild night in mind.

She gave a small shake of her head and then turned and looked him right in the eye as the elevator came to her floor and a couple got out.

‘I haven’t got...’ she mouthed.

‘I have,’ he mouthed back. Of course he did, Freya thought. This guy had nearly had her at five p.m. after all—no doubt he came prepared for women dropping their knickers on sight—but they were already past her floor and so they waited—oh, how they waited—for them to hit his floor.

As the crowd thinned out there was a bit more space but they didn’t utilise it. She could feel his eyes on her shoulder, on her spine, and then she got the bliss of his mouth on the part of her she hated the most.

She leant back into him even as the doors opened.

‘Thank God,’ Zack said, and he took her hand and they just about ran the length of the corridor.

He opened up the door and they fell into the room. Their mouths locked and they didn’t bother with the lights. Just hot, hard kisses as Freya kissed him with abandon up against the wall.

He more than partook because he tore that dress off and the sound of it ripping was as delicious as the feel of his hands on her bare skin.

‘Oh, God,’ he said as he played with her breasts and tweaked her nipples as if he’d been waiting for them all night.

He had been.

Freya had never been more grateful for ignoring the bride’s plea because, unable to resist a taste, he lowered his head and took one nipple into his hungry mouth.

‘She wanted me to wear sticking plasters over them.’

‘We don’t like the bride,’ he said as he withdrew his mouth, and it made her laugh. It was just such a relief after a very long and difficult day to laugh and vent to someone who got her. He took the other breast in his mouth and sucked hard. Freya pushed him off, only because it was her turn to taste his salty chest. Oh, he tasted amazing, like he’d been swimming in the ocean and had then showered in ice. Salty, refreshing and so firm.

Freya dealt with his heavy leather belt as best she could with her mouth on his chest, licking him, tasting him and then moaning her frustration.

‘Why button-ups...?’ Freya whimpered.

‘So I can picture your fingers undoing them and getting it out.’ She was doing just that and Freya herself wasn’t gentle. He was so thick and long and already there was a silver drizzle that trickled onto her fingers as she explored him.

‘Get naked,’ he told her, and he went into his pocket. He wished he’d kicked off his boots so he could do the same but there really wasn’t time. As she shed her knickers he dressed his erection and Freya toppled a little as she took off her shoes.

‘Come here,’ he said, and she just stepped to him and he lifted her to where she’d wanted to be all along.

‘Oh...’ He didn’t guide her on, he held her hips as her hands went behind his neck.

‘Lean back,’ he told her, and as he held her by the hips he rubbed her wet sex over his stomach and scented himself with her.

‘I’m going to come...’ Freya was, the feel of the hairs on his stomach, the rough guide of his hands, the way he was holding her, and she couldn’t hold on.

‘That’s the intention,’ Sexy Bastard said.

She had kind of got this wasn’t going to be like anything she’d experienced before but she found out for certain then. As her body arched, as she let out a building moan, he took her coming. He just drove into her tight and twitching and moaned at the pleasure.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said.

Oh, yes, Freya thought.

He just parted her orgasm, it was like being a virgin all over again, or not, Freya thought because that had been such an underwhelming encounter.

This wasn’t.

She went limp for a moment and he took full advantage, grinding her down to meet his thrusts. Her hands took in his muscled shoulders and she dug her nails in, and then she just had to taste that shoulder, sucking it as her hands explored his broad upper back.

Her nails dug in again, deeper, and he took her a bit slower but with measured tension. It was an odd consent but she read it—he wanted more of the same so she scratched him hard.

‘Careful,’ he warned as her mouth sucked skin, but he wasn’t telling her to stop, she knew that. ‘You’ll pay for each bruise.’

Oh, she would gladly pay.

He took her to the desk, or she guessed that’s what it was, because it was cold and hard on her back. Freya went to wrap her legs around him but his hand pressed her thighs apart and he took her hard and so deep that she just about performed a sit-up as her entire lower abdomen contracted.

‘Come on,’ he said, and she opened her eyes to his gruff command but then her eyes met his and he smiled down at her.

‘Nice,’ he said, bucking into her.

‘So...’ Freya couldn’t finish. She had never known anything like it. His face tensed and then he released into her, and she met the impact with a deep force of her own. Her orgasm just rolled through her like thunder and then lightning clapped her tight with no pause in between. It just dissolved her from the inside out, and as it left she quivered and then he collapsed onto her.

He was so heavy, and breathless, but then his mouth was an unexpected soft caress. Even as he came out of her he kissed her. Even as he unsheathed he kissed her back to earth, and as he stripped off his boots and jeans, his mouth never left her skin. Naked now, he picked her up from the hard desk and carried her to the bed.

He got in beside her and scooped her into his body. His hand stroked her breast and he kissed her shoulder as she lay feeling bewildered yet drowsy and sedated.

‘Go to sleep,’ he said.

He seemed to know just what she needed and yet they didn’t even know each other’s names.

‘How...?’ She attempted to gather a thought into a sentence.

‘Chemistry,’ he answered.

And to sleep they went.

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