Lucy Ryder - Tamed By Her Army Doc's Touch

According to the grapevine, Webster had a habit of targeting young unmarried personnel and Luke wondered why no one had reported him. If there was one thing he hated more than a bully, it was someone using their position to sexually harass subordinates who needed their jobs.

And then he wondered why he cared that Lilah Meredith was involved with anyone. He didn’t.

After the service he joined a group of colleagues outside and waited for the newlyweds to leave the church. And while everyone pelted Greg and Jenna with rose petals Luke stood with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his free hand shoved into his pocket. When Lilah finally appeared, Webster’s proprietary hand was on the curve of her hip as he ushered her solicitously down the steps.

Solicitous, my eye , Luke snorted silently, and barely resisted the urge to head over and deck the smug bastard. He knew exactly what the man was thinking and it wasn’t good manners—especially not with Dr. Meredith dressed in that blue dress and short stylish black jacket. All she needed was a wide-brimmed black hat and she’d look like a sexy gaucho.

Besides, it was none of his business how, and with whom, Lilah Meredith spent her free time. For all he knew, she was enjoying all the attention she was getting from a “respected” professional who could do a lot for her career.

Besides, when he’d been a student it had been common knowledge that a lot of girls dated med students, hoping to snag themselves a doctor. He hadn’t thought Lilah Meredith was like that, but what the hell did he know?

Lilah drove through the huge iron gates and down the tree-lined road that led to the exclusive Greendale Hotel. Grimacing at the thought of how out of place her grandmother’s old sedan would look amongst all the luxury vehicles, she headed for the portico entrance. She didn’t know why she cared. It was way better than arriving in a low-slung sports car with a man who was not only her boss but reminded her of why her recent relief work in South America had gone so horribly wrong.

Peter Webster, with his charming smile, wandering hands and practiced seduction technique, was cut from the same cloth as her ex-boss, Dr. Brent Cunningham the Third—the person responsible for the Amazonian Disaster, as Lilah had come to think of that chapter in her life.

Like Brent, Peter suffered from a God complex and tended to think he was entitled to more than professional courtesy from his subordinates. As if Lilah should feel honored by his attention. She didn’t, and had experienced first hand what happened when men like him felt rejected and humiliated by someone like her. Careers suffered and lives were ruined.

Lilah told herself to remember that the next time she felt like kneeing the man in the nuts or punching that perfect nose. If there was one thing she hated, it was influential men taking advantage of vulnerable young women.

Lilah was neither that young nor vulnerable, unless you counted on the fact that she really needed this job. Besides, every time she looked in a mirror she was reminded that her own mother had fallen for a man just like Peter. Handsome, charming, married and wealthy. Rowan Franklin had swept her off her feet with promises of a bright and rosy future together. Only the future hadn’t turned out so rosy for Grace Meredith. She’d found herself alone, pregnant and out of a job.

Frankly, no matter how handsome or charming the man, Lilah had absolutely no intention of making the same mistake—even at the promise of career advancement.

Following the stream of cars to the hotel’s front entrance, she waited until a young uniformed valet approached her door before grabbing her clutch purse and sliding from behind the wheel.

She murmured her thanks and sent him a smile that made his ears turn red, before heading into the neo-classic lobby. A hundred feet overhead, late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the huge glass cupola and lit up the opulent marbled lobby like the sun god illuminating the temple of Zeus. Lilah had to blink a few times to dispel the image, especially when it highlighted a pair of broad shoulders, a wide tapering back and long muscular legs she recognized almost immediately—a figure that looked oddly out of place in the opulent surroundings when he should have looked right at home. Like a dangerous predator pretending to be housetrained.

She shivered at the image and decided it was the coiled readiness and lazily alert gaze that took in everything around him.

As though sensing her scrutiny, Luke Sullivan turned his head and an errant ray of sunshine fell across his face. It illuminated a slashing cheekbone, hard jaw and a surprisingly sculpted mouth, leaving the rest of his face in deep shadow.

She watched his unsmiling mouth for a couple of beats and shivered again—this time for an altogether different reason. Dammit . The man just had to look at her and she was reacting like a high-school sophomore with her first crush.

Reminding herself that he was from a world so far removed from hers that he might as well be from another galaxy, Lilah bit her lip and followed other guests to the ballroom. She told herself that she didn’t care since he was out of most women’s league. But it didn’t help.

It also didn’t help that even in an elegant suit Luke Sullivan looked as relaxed as a warrior god in Zeus’s temple—like a hero from the Golden Age. It didn’t take much imagination to picture him swinging a huge bronze broadsword at some hapless mortal enemy or whipping out a handgun and going all Super Spy on hotel guests.

She’d seen him in scrubs and a lab coat, biker leather, formal suit and almost nothing at all, and had yet to decide which look suited him best. He was a man of mystery, and Lilah didn’t need anyone to tell her it would take a determined woman to peel away the layers to get to the real man beneath.

Not that he would allow it, she mused. The man had more layers than an onion and, frankly, anyone stupid enough to try deserved the tears that were sure to follow. She wasn’t stupid and had long ago come to the conclusion that men weren’t worth getting dehydrated for.

Shaking off the disturbing thoughts, Lilah paused at the ballroom entrance to scan the seating plan for her name. Besides, Luke Sullivan wasn’t her problem and she would do well to stay as far from him as she could.

Someone come up behind her and she knew by the way her entire back heated and tingled who it was, even before a deep voice said near her ear, “Table eight, near the far left French doors. We’re together.”

They were?

Lilah turned and found her nose practically touching a crisp white shirt. Startled to find him so close, she took a step back and slid her gaze up past a green-and-gold-patterned tie, strong tanned throat and hard jaw. Her gaze lingered for a couple of seconds on his mouth before lifting to look into deep green eyes surrounded by fringes of long dark lashes.

Her stomach gave an alarming little dip.

“ Oh … uh … Dr. Sullivan,” she said lamely, and cursed the breathless quality of her voice. “It’s you.”

“Uh-huh.” He lifted one eyebrow in a move that made Lilah wish she could look as mocking. “Expecting someone? Webster, maybe?”

“Peter?” Lilah was confused. “Why would I be waiting for him?”

Luke rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Peter?” he demanded with a ferocious scowl. “Since when are you on first-name terms with the Emperor of ER?”

“Since it’s none of your business,” she shot back, angered and confused by his confrontational attitude. The last time she’d seen him he’d been dressed like a bad biker dude. But at least he’d been smiling. Right now, glaring at her as though she’d done something unforgivable, he looked like a sophisticated angel of doom. A very sexy angel of doom. Darn him. And darn those tingles .