Robin Gianna - It Happened in Paris...

“Sorry, coffee definitely is number one on my list of life’s sustenance. Though I’m sure anything licked from your lips would qualify, too.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t have to ask you about talents, because I already know a few of them. Blarney being one.”

“And my other talents?” His eyes gleamed as his wide hand splayed on her back, pressing her close against him, and the heat of his skin on hers made her short of breath all over again.

“I’m not stroking your ego any bigger than it already is.”

“How about stroking something else, then?”

“Already did that. And I see I’ll have to watch what I say around you.”

He chuckled as he kissed her shoulder, and she found herself thinking about his mouth and those talents of his and wasn’t sure if it was that or his body heat making her feel so overly warm. Again. “So what are your hobbies?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I’d call it a hobby, but I like to run. Helps clear my mind when it gets too busy. And I like marshmallows. A lot.”

“Marshmallows?” He laughed out loud at that. “You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, no. I pop the little ones when I’m working on the computer. Which is why I have to run. Don’t want to become a marshmallow.”

“You’re about as far from a marshmallow as anyone could be.” His hand stroked feather-light up her arm and across her chest to slide down the other, making her quiver. “I’d like to run more than just on a treadmill, but my work just doesn’t leave me that kind of time.”

“So what is this work you spend all your time doing?”

“I’m a cardiologist.”

Every muscle froze, and her breath stopped as she stared at him. A cardiologist? Cardiologist? Could this really be happening?

He was probably used to women swooning when he announced that, but not her. She’d worked with more cardiologists than she cared to think about, and being arrogant and egotistical seemed to be a requirement for becoming that kind of specialist. Something she’d allowed herself to forget for too long with her last two boyfriends.

Along with her shock came another, even more chilling thought, which now seemed all too likely since they were staying at the same hotel. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, her body now icy cold as she tugged the sheet up tighter around it. “What’s your last name, Jack?”

“Dunbar.” He smiled, obviously not sensing the neon “oh, crap” vibes she had to be sending off. “I’m working for the next month at the Saint Malo Hospital, testing a new heart-valve replacement device. I’ve worked damned hard to get the design finished and to get the arrangements for the trial finalized. Can’t believe it’s finally about to happen.”

Oh. My. Lord. She couldn’t quite believe it, either. Not the trial starting. This unbelievable coincidence.

How was it possible that the man she’d just slept with was Dr. Jack Dunbar? The Jack Dunbar she’d be working with and observing at the hospital? The Jack Dunbar who was testing the procedure many, including her, hoped would someday always be used, instead of open-heart surgery, to replace faulty heart valves? The Jack Dunbar who had helped develop the next generation of valve replacement catheter based on her original design?

A next generation she feared wasn’t any better, or safer, than her own had been.

And if it became necessary to voice her opinion that the trial should be halted, he wouldn’t feel like kissing her or making love with her again, that was for sure. Not that she planned on more kisses and lovemaking, anyway.

A cardiologist was the absolute last kind of man she wanted in her life. Again.

“How about you?” He lay back, reaching to grasp her hand, his thumb brushing against her skin. Just as it had earlier when they’d been walking in such a lovely, companionable way. This time the feeling it gave her wasn’t electrifying and sweet. The sensation felt more like discomfort and dismay. “So, what kind of last name goes with Avery? And what kind of work brings you to Paris?”

She swallowed hard. “Funny you should ask. My work has a lot to do with your own, Dr. Dunbar.”

“Your work is similar to mine?” Jack asked, obvious surprise etched on his face. “In what way? Are you a doctor?”

“No. I have a doctorate in biomedical engineering.” She left it at that, which was absurd, since it was all going to come out sooner or later, and it might as well be now. Lying naked in bed with him.

That realization had her shaking off her stunned paralysis to leap out of bed and grab up her clothes.

“That’s… impressive.” He propped himself up on his elbow, obviously enjoying the view as she scrambled to get dressed. His dark eyebrows were raised even higher, an expression she was used to seeing when she told people what she did for a living. She was young to be where she was careerwise and being petite made her seem younger still.

“Not really. I just worked hard, like you. Then again, in my experience cardiologists are pretty impressed… with themselves.” And was that an understatement, or what?

“I should be insulted, except it might be true.” He grinned at her. “So what brings you to Paris?”

“Well, as I said, my work has to do with yours.” And could there be a much worse situation? The very first time she had a one-time thing with a man, he turned out to be someone she’d be working with closely.

She still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around this mess. With a nervous laugh threatening, she pulled on her shirt, relieved to be finally clothed. After all, being naked when they made their formal introductions would be all kinds of ridiculous, wouldn’t it?

She smoothed down her clothes and took a deep breath as she turned to him.

“As you know, your company hired the designer of the first valve replacement catheter to come study and observe the trial of your new one. That designer would be me.”

His mouth actually fell open as he stared at her. It seemed he shook his head slightly, and that jittery laugh finally burst out of her throat. Clearly, he was as shocked by this crazy coincidence as she was. Though maybe it wasn’t so crazy or much of a coincidence—after all, the Crilex Corporation was putting them both up at the same hotel where they’d met.

“You can’t be… Dr. Girard,” he said, still wearing an expression of disbelief.

“I am. And I’m equally shocked that you’re Dr. Dunbar.” Awkwardly, she stuck out her hand. “Avery Marie Girard. Nice to meet you.”

That slow, sexy smile she’d found all too attractive throughout the day slipped onto his face again before he laughed. He reached to shake her hand, holding onto it. “It’s an honor, Dr. Girard. Obviously, I’ve read about all you’ve accomplished. Your designs for various medical devices. Studied them for more hours than I care to think about as I worked with engineers to design the one we’ll be testing. I… can’t believe that you’re… her.”

“Because I’m young?” Or more likely because he’d already seen her naked, but maybe she could pretend it hadn’t happened. As though that was possible.

“Because you’re beautiful. And fun. And spontaneous. With silky hair you don’t wear in a bun and crazy, colorful clothes instead of drab gray. Rain boots with ducks instead of orthopedic shoes.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m obviously guilty of thinking of a very stereotypical brainiac scientist, and those stereotypes don’t include any of the things you are.”

“Jack Dunbar!” She shook her head mockingly, having heard it all before. “You shouldn’t admit any of that. The Society of Women Scientists will publicly flay you if you say that aloud. Maybe mount your head on an energy stick and parade the streets with it, denouncing stereotypes of all kinds.”