Julianne Maclean - Sleeping With The Playboy

“Now, wait a second, let me explain,” Dr. Reeves said.

“Explain what?” her principal replied.

Jocelyn shook her head and stared at the man who’d hired her. “He’s waiting, Dr. Reeves, and frankly so am I.”

“What the hell’s going on here?”

Dr. Reeves raised his hands. “Calm down, both of you. Donovan, I wanted you to meet Ms. Mackenzie before you said no.”

“Said no to what?” He took in Jocelyn’s full appearance, from her starched white shirt and brown blazer, down the length of her pants to her brown leather shoes. “Who are you?”

Jocelyn squared her shoulders. “I’ve been hired to be your bodyguard, Dr. Knight, but I was under the impression you wanted one.”

“A bodyguard? Mark, you had no right—”

“I had every right. You’re my partner and I’m not about to lose you and have to cover all our patients while you’re laid up or dead. I’d be on call 24-7, and that was never how we intended to run our practice.” Dr. Reeves’s cheeks colored. “Besides, I’m worried about you, buddy.”

The two men stood in silence, as if neither was sure what to say to the other.

“Maybe I should leave,” Jocelyn said. “You two can discuss this, and when you’ve got it figured out, you can call me, though I can’t guarantee I’ll be available.” She turned to go, wishing she had taken Congressman Jenkin’s request instead.

Dr. Reeves grabbed her arm as she tried to pass. “Ms. Mackenzie, please wait.”

Jocelyn glanced down at his hand, tight around her elbow, then sent him a warning look.

He immediately released her.

“Dr. Knight needs your services, and his patients need him. Chicago can’t afford to lose its best heart surgeon, nor can I lose a friend.”

She shook her head. “It’s his choice, not yours. I need cooperation from my clients. They have to be willing and eager to work with me and take the situation seriously. Without that kind of commitment from the people I work with, I walk.”

She tried to leave again. Dr. Reeves followed her into the vestibule. Jocelyn pressed the elevator button.

“Please, I’m begging you,” Dr. Reeves said. “Stay and check things out. See what you can do for him.”

“Why is it you’re the one out here begging me, and not him?” She gestured toward the open door of the penthouse, where Dr. Knight was still standing in the foyer, looking as relaxed as ever, watching.

“I can convince him.” Dr. Reeves took a desperate step toward his friend. “Donovan, you need her. You can’t put yourself in danger like this. Your patients need you and your penthouse needs a security system. The police don’t have time to give your case the attention it needs, and I sure as hell am not going to lose any more sleep worrying about you.”

“I’ll change my locks.”

“That’s not enough. If this attacker is determined, he’ll be back. Besides…” Dr. Reeves lowered his voice. “Think of the Counseling Center. You’re almost there, buddy, and it means everything to you. You can’t take these kinds of risks with your life, nor can you give the project what it needs if you’re checking over your shoulder every five minutes. You need to finish what you started.”

A long silence ensued. Jocelyn had the impression Dr. Reeves had touched a nerve with that Counseling Center argument, whatever that was about.

Jocelyn pressed the elevator button again, and Dr. Reeves returned to her. “Please, Ms. Mackenzie, don’t go.”

“You should have discussed this with Dr. Knight before you called me out here and wasted my time. I have a long waiting list of people who need and want my help, and this is not—”

“How long a waiting list?” Dr. Knight asked, moving forward to stand in the open doorway. He leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb.

Both Jocelyn and Dr. Reeves faced him in silence.

He had way of halting a conversation just by entering into it, Jocelyn thought as she stared at him in a studious kind of way. She had the most intense desire to know what he was thinking.

God, he was gorgeous.

“Long enough,” she replied.

“So you’re that good?”

“She’s the best,” Dr. Reeves replied. “She used to be in the Secret Service. She has a list of references a mile long. Very impressive references, Donovan.”

Dr. Knight stepped out of the doorway and sauntered leisurely toward her. Jocelyn’s senses became acutely alert as he grew closer and closer, and she fought the urge to take another step back.

She fought also to understand that self-preserving urge, for he was in no way threatening. Predatory, yes, in a sexual kind of way, when she suspected he was not trying to be sexual. That particular aspect of his demeanor seemed to come naturally; it was an unconscious part of him.

Maybe that’s why she found him threatening.

“Why did you leave the Secret Service?” he asked. “You weren’t fired, were you?”

Now he was insulting her. “No, I wasn’t fired. The money’s better in this racket.”

Money, as it happened, was something she needed a great deal of right now.

He nodded. “I take it you know how to use that Glock.” He glanced down at the gun she wore inside her jacket.

“I can drop you on your ass with it, Dr. Knight, and that’s without pulling the trigger.”

He inclined his head at her and said nothing for a long moment. She guessed he was taking his turn at being studious.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. No one moved. Dr. Knight continued to gaze at her, waiting to see what she would do. For a moment or two, they all stood in the gleaming vestibule while the elevator waited.

Then the doors quietly closed, and the lighted buttons went dark.

Jocelyn sensed Dr. Reeves’ heavy sigh of relief.

“I’d like to know how you work,” Dr. Knight said. “Then I’ll decide whether or not I can commit.”

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. She almost laughed. “I’m afraid it’s going to be the other way around, Dr. Knight. I’ll be the one to ask the questions, then I’ll decide if I want to commit.”

To her surprise, Dr. Knight smiled at Dr. Reeves. “You’ve checked out her references?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I think I like her.”

Dr. Reeves sighed again. “I figured you would.”

Jocelyn leaned forward in the plush, white, over-stuffed armchair. “So you think the intruder had a key, Dr. Knight?”

“Yes. He was already inside when I returned home from the opera three nights ago, and the door was locked as usual when I came in. He must have wanted me to think everything was normal, so he’d have the element of surprise on his side.”

The doctor crossed one long leg over the other and took a sip of his red wine. Jocelyn had to resist staring at what was obviously a beautiful, muscled thigh under those black tuxedo trousers.

“Possibly.” Jocelyn noted the details in her Palm Pilot.

“And call me Donovan.”

Jocelyn didn’t glance up. She merely nodded. “Is that how you got that mark on your knuckle?”

Donovan looked at the tiny laceration, no more than a quarter of an inch long. “You’re very observant, Ms. Mackenzie. Yes. I got in a few good swings before he gave up whatever he was looking for and took off.”

“And what do you think he was looking for?”

He shrugged. “That night, the police concluded it was a burglary. They said keys can be stolen easily enough, an imprint made in a matter of minutes. I’ve often left my keys in my lab coat pocket at the hospital while I grab a bite to eat, or misplaced them every so often.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Dr. Reeves offered helpfully.

Jocelyn didn’t crack a smile. “I don’t. And if I take this case, Dr. Knight, the first thing I’m going to do is work on getting you out of habits like those.”