“I would like to kiss you good night,” he said.

And love, she thought. Love for others, that would make life whole. Had Ted ever truly loved her? He’d wanted her, she knew that. To a great extent, he’d needed her. But had he really loved her? Maybe in his own pathetic way, but he had always loved Ted best. Did he love Lindsey as much as he loved himself? Because Ted being Ted might have followers and even worshippers, but until he knew how to share love, Ted would end up being alone with the love of his life—himself.

“I can do that,” she said to the idea of a kiss.

He pulled her over onto his lap, and she put her arms around his neck. He tested her lips softly. Carefully. Then he pressed a little harder, a little longer. He was coming in for the kill, she could tell. She stopped him and said, “What about the kids?”

“They watch TV, Peyton. Kissing isn’t against the law. It won’t cause them to have immoral thoughts....”

With that, he pulled her closer, holding her against him, and went after her mouth like a starving man. He devoured her, using his lips to open hers. One hand rose to her jaw, holding her tight, working her lips with his tongue. His hand slid under her hair at the back of her head, pressing her firmly against his mouth while his tongue deftly played with hers. He groaned into her mouth, and she welcomed him with a little moan of her own.

He was the best thing she’d tasted in a very long time. While he held her tighter, she held him as closely as she could. When he plunged his hand into her hair, she ran her fingers through his. His stubble was rough on her lips and chin, and she didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it. His breathing grew a little more rapid and coarse, panting. She pulled back, her lips still touching his.

“I’m getting immoral thoughts,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I should go before things get out of control.”

“I’m not going to lose control,” he said. “I won’t hold it against you if you do.”

She laughed lightly. “You seem to be...ah...” She wiggled a little on his lap. “Responding.”

“Oh, yeah. A lot of ideas are running through my mind right now. All inappropriate.”

“Like?”

“The bathroom. The dining-room-table fort. Right here, right now.”

She laughed. “I better go.”

He pushed against her a little bit. “Can I take you out to dinner this week?”

She lifted one brow. “Will I actually get dinner?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yes, Peyton. You will get dinner—your choice of restaurant. And dessert is up to you. Completely up to you. You’re the one in charge.”

“Check your schedule,” she said. “I’m free every night.”

Just that promise of an evening together caused him to kiss her again, long and hard, deep and wet. His arousal was all too obvious, and she was well aware of the erotic feelings he had stirred up in her. His kiss left her gasping.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing hard. “Gimme a minute, okay? And then we can get up....”

She held him there, comforting, soothing, murmuring. She inhaled the smell of his hair. Oh, God, she had so missed the comfort and affection of this—warm bodies close, the promise of excitement and fulfillment.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” she whispered.

“I haven’t done it in even longer. I say we get right back on that horse and ride like wind. What do you think?”

She sighed. “Like the wind...”

Ten

Scott stuck to his word. He did not make any romantic overtures toward Peyton at the clinic. He could tell by the sly looks she slanted his way that this surprised her. It was difficult; she would never know how difficult. Every time he saw her he wanted to grab her in his arms and just kiss the daylights out of her. He had a hard time pulling his eyes away from her. But he didn’t touch her. He wouldn’t. It was very important that she not get the impression she was dealing with another Ted Ramsdale. He was not going to be that guy, a boss with a lot of baggage on the make.

Fortunately he worked at the clinic on Monday and Tuesday mornings, went to the Bandon ER for the afternoons and then was scheduled on call both evenings. Monday night he was called out, but so far on Tuesday evening his cell phone remained blessedly quiet. On the way back to Thunder Point he called Gabriella and asked how everyone was doing at home. Dinner and baths were already done, she reported. He let her know he wanted to run a few errands, and could be called back to Bandon so might not be home before bedtime.

He stopped at an Italian bakery. He drove to Peyton’s little duplex and rang the bell. When she opened the door, he held up the bag. “Cannoli,” he said with a grin. And then he noted the look on her face. “I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “Come in.”

“I have the feeling I’m interrupting something,” he said. There was music playing; it was a mellow, moody old tune. “At Last” by Etta James. He put the bag on the small kitchen table. “I think something’s wrong. And we’re too new for anything to be wrong.”

“Just an unexpected development,” she said. “There’s a pediatric heart surgeon in Seattle. I met her at a conference, and we made the occasional, though rare, referral to her. Christine Sullivan. She’s one of the best in the country, very impressive credentials, quite well known. She heard I left Ted’s practice, and she hunted me down. I got an email from her this afternoon. She made me a job offer.”

“That’s wonderful, Peyton! That says a lot about your reputation.”

“I’m pretty experienced in cardiology now....”

“Why does this upset you?” he asked, perplexed.

“I don’t know how to respond.”

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You want the job.”

“That wouldn’t bother you?”

“Oh, Peyton, I’d hate it if you left. I don’t want you to leave, not ever. I’ll make every argument I can think of, but I’ll never hold you back. I think we could have a successful practice here. Not a wealthy practice, but very successful and very satisfying.”

“Her PA is leaving on maternity leave in October. She’d like to take six months and then come back part-time....”

He pulled her against him. “That gives me a little time,” he said. “If you’re not leaving tomorrow, maybe there are things I can tempt you with.” He began to sway with the music. “I bet she offered you a big pile of money.”

“She did.”

“Well, that’s one thing I don’t have. But I have other things. Great things.”

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Like what?”

“The ocean,” he said. “Football games. Cute kids. A little clinic everyone loves and needs. Quiet. You don’t have to lock your door. You should, but really, it’s so unusual for anything bad to happen here. Storms over the bay—they’re amazing. People bring things to the office—cookies, cakes, all kinds of stuff, and you have a relentless sweet tooth.”

“Let me ask you something,” she said. “You don’t have a lot of experience with women, right?”