Montana stared at her blankly. “Family?”

“You know. Kids. I’m assuming there isn’t a wife.”

“Not that I know of,” Montana told her, even as the W word bounced in her head. A wife? He’d never said and she’d never thought to ask. “He’s never mentioned anything.” He’d more than hinted he was alone. But still. A wife?

It was a question that needed an answer very, very soon.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMON WAS IN HIS OFFICE when he heard the page. He called down to the nurses’ station.

“Montana Hendrix would like to see you, if you have a second.”

The anticipation was instant. A tightening in his body, a rush of heat. He quietly cleared his throat before speaking. “Please send her here,” he said, then hung up the phone and stood.

His office was on the small side, with a desk, a couple of chairs and a mostly empty bookcase. He wasn’t on staff, so he didn’t deal with a lot of paperwork beyond his patient charts. The hospital had provided a computer and printer. He didn’t need much more.

Now, as he looked around at the stark room, he wished it were some color other than plain white, with a picture on the wall or a plant in the corner. Something to make it seem less institutional.

He told himself he was being an idiot. Whatever Montana wanted to talk about, it had nothing to do with his office. No doubt she wanted to discuss bringing a pony into the hospital, or perhaps juggling monkeys. Whatever it was, he would listen. Hearing her discuss a tax audit would be appealing. He liked the sound of her voice, the way she moved her hands when she talked. He liked the flashes of emotion in her brown eyes and the way she always seemed on the verge of smiling.

She was alive in every sense of the word. Alive and vibrant, and she saw a world filled with possibilities. No one had hurt her, not in a way that had left her broken. He found himself wanting to stand between her and reality, to make sure that didn’t change.

He crossed to the door and held it open. A few seconds later Montana turned the corner. She’d replaced her customary summer dresses with jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Both hugged the shape of her body, showing off curves and making it more difficult than usual for him to maintain any semblance of control.

Her long blond hair hung down her back in a cascade of waves, making him want to tangle his fingers in the silky smoothness. Her smile both pleased and taunted him. He wanted to know the feel of every inch of her. He wanted to know her because in the knowing he believed he would find solace.

“Hi,” she said as she approached. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“If you were, I wouldn’t have had the nurse send you to my office.” He motioned for her to step into his office, then followed her. He was careful to leave the door partially open. Perhaps knowing that people could see in would allow him to maintain his distance.

She stopped in the center of the room and turned to face him. Her brown eyes danced with amusement. “You’re not a big believer in social niceties are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that if you were busy, you wouldn’t have seen me. You don’t have to say it.”

“What’s wrong with saying it? It’s the truth.”

She laughed. “I know, but my comment about hoping I wasn’t interrupting was—”

He waited patiently.

“You’re not supposed to say it,” she said.

“Why not?”

“You’re just not.”

“As long as the rules are clear.”

She laughed again and he found himself smiling, even though he couldn’t say why.

“I heard you were in to see Kalinda the other day,” he said. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

The humor faded from her eyes. “Fay called me and sounded pretty desperate. I guess it’s been difficult. I’m glad Cece and I could help. Well, mostly Cece.”

“Having that little dog around makes a difference.”

“I’m glad.”

Somehow they were standing closer together than they had been before. He consciously took a step back, wanting more space between them. No, he thought. Not wanting it, but apparently needing it.

They stared at each other. He could feel the tension crackling in the room. His gaze was riveted on her mouth, and the need to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. He took another step back.

“Is that why you stopped by?” he asked, his voice sounding more stressed than pleasant.

She blinked. “No. I was thinking about the town. You haven’t seen very much of it. There’s so much more than what you saw on our mini-tour. You’re only here for a short time. It would be a shame for you to miss seeing the real Fool’s Gold.”

“Of course,” he said. “How would my life be complete?”

The humor returned to her eyes. “Mock me all you want, but you just wait. Fool’s Gold is a special place. We have a varied history that includes Spanish pirates and Mayans. Specifically, female Mayans.”

“You mentioned them before. It sounded intriguing.”

“I want to put together some kind of plan for you to see as much as possible. So maybe you should tell me about your hobbies or likes and dislikes.”

He noticed she wasn’t looking at him. She seemed to have become fascinated by the back of his computer monitor. And instead of standing comfortably, she shifted her weight and twisted her fingers together. Almost as if she were nervous.

“I don’t have a lot of hobbies.”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, it might not just be for you. It might be about other people.”

“What other people?”

“Your other people.”

She’d lost him. “What are you talking about?”

“Your family. Children.” She paused. “Mrs. Dr. Simon Bradley.” She glanced up at him. “You never said if you were married.”

Now it all made sense. She was worried. He probably shouldn’t like that, but he did. He liked her hesitation and the flush on her cheeks. He liked the implication that the answer to the question was important to her.

“I’m not married.”

Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

“It doesn’t seem to be something I would have forgotten.”

“You’d be amazed how many men do.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?”

“No. The men in my life haven’t been married. Just not that interested in me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You do?”

He took a step toward her. “Very much.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He took another step. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I were married.”

“That’s what I thought, but I wanted to be sure.”

“Very sensible of you.”

“No one has ever called me sensible before,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “No one sees me that way.”

He wanted to ask how other people did see her and how she saw herself. He wanted to know everything about her, but those questions were for another time. Right now what was important was being close to her.

He pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, stepping into his embrace with an eagerness that excited him.

They’d done this enough times that the feel of her was familiar. But instead of that making him less interested, he found himself wanting to experience every part of kissing her again and again. He wanted to inhale the scent of her body, to feel her soft mouth against his. He wanted her taste, her curves, all of her.

Their kiss began slowly, almost tentatively, as if they were both taking their time. Lips clung, creating heat that ripped through him before settling in his groin.

He moved his hands up and down her back, then set them on her waist. She tilted her head and parted her lips. The invitation was clear and he began to circle her tongue with his, beginning the erotic dance of desire.

She tasted sweet, like ice cream or candy. Without thinking, without planning, he continued to kiss her deeply while moving his hands higher and higher. Before he knew what he’d done, he’d cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of her full curves.

In the back of his mind, he was aware of the partially open door, of the fact that anyone could see them, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not now that he’d touched her so intimately. He had to know more. He had to know everything.

He explored her curves with his fingers, then brushed his thumbs against her nipples. Relief battled with need when he found they were already tight and hard, visible and tactile proof of her reaction to his touch. He lingered there, rubbing, massaging, then felt the uncomfortable heaviness of his erection when she moaned quietly.

He stretched out one arm and pushed the door shut. The second he heard the latch engage, he drew back from their kiss and pulled up her T-shirt. He unfastened her bra with an easy flick of his surgeon’s trained hands and pushed up her bra as well.

Her br**sts were perfect. Full and pale, with pink areolae. He leaned in and took her left nipple in his mouth, sucking deeply.

The taste of her was beyond exquisite. The warmth of her soft skin enticed him. He moved his tongue over and around, savoring everything. He used his hand on her other breast. She rested her fingers on his shoulders.

He was aware of her head falling back, of the quickness of her breathing. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and she moaned. The sound—the most erotic he’d ever heard—was followed by a shudder that swept through her body.

He moved to her other breast. Now her breathing came in pants as she squirmed to get closer. He knew she was wet and swollen, as aroused as he was. It would only take a second to rip off her jeans and panties, to bury himself inside her.

Even at the thought of filling her so deeply he got lost, he was distracted by the thought of how her wetness would feel against his fingers. He wanted to explore her there, to find her most sensitive spot, to tease and rub and circle until she had no choice but to come. He wanted to kiss her intimately, to taste her and do with his tongue what he’d done with his fingers. He wanted her trembling from exhaustion, weak from the pleasure.

From the other side of the door he heard low voices and then laughter. The images of making love with Montana faded as reality returned.

Reluctantly, he straightened. He held her around the waist with both hands and stared into her eyes.

Her gaze was unfocused, her face flushed. She had the look of a woman who wanted a man. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She blinked slowly, as if coming awake. “You’re, ah, welcome. Anytime. Seriously.”

There were more voices. She glanced toward the closed door.

“I forgot where we were,” she admitted.

“I wish I could have.”

He reached for her bra and smoothed it into place. After turning her, he fastened the hooks. She pulled down her T-shirt and faced him.

Her gaze met his. With a mischievous look in her eye, she placed her hand on his belly, then slipped it lower until she cupped his erection. He saw the surprise in her face.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Did you doubt?”

“Maybe. A little. You’re just so… I’m not really your type.”

“How can you not be my type?” he asked, doing his best to pretend not to care when she moved her hand away. “You’re beautiful and fun.” He shook his head. “You’re right. You’re not my type.”

She tilted her head and the corners of her mouth curved up. “You prefer unattractive women who have no personality?”

“I want to say no, but my past speaks for itself.”

He’d always gone with women who were safe—predictable. Women who would understand the rules. Montana wasn’t like that, but he still couldn’t seem to resist her.

“Mine, too,” she murmured.

He lightly touched her cheek and knew he couldn’t rest until he had her. “I want you. In my bed. Naked. Please say yes.”

It was the most direct invitation Montana had ever heard. Simon’s need was raw. She could see it etched on his face, feel it in the tension in his body. Being desired this much made her weak.

In the past, she’d found herself not feeling as if she was enough. The men she’d fallen for had either left her or tried to change her until she’d been forced to escape, rather than becoming someone else. To be wanted for who and what she was left her practically floating.

She stared into his eyes. “Yes. But not in your bed, if that’s okay. You’re staying at a hotel and I know everyone in town.”

“Then your bed.”

“My bed.”

He leaned in and kissed her again. The contact was short and hot and full of promise.

“Tonight,” he said when he straightened.

She nodded, then gave him her address. They settled on a time.

As she turned to leave, he touched her arm. She looked back at him.

“You know I’m not here for very long.”

He wasn’t talking about the night, she thought sadly. He was warning her about who and what he was. A man who couldn’t or wouldn’t settle down. A man who left.

“I know.”

“I’m going to Peru as soon as I leave here. Nothing about that will change.” She nodded.

She sensed he wanted more of a reaction from her. He wanted her to explain that she was sophisticated and did this sort of thing all the time. That she wouldn’t mind him walking away after their affair was over. But none of that was true, so she simply opened the door and stepped into the hallway.