Loe raamatut: «NYC Angels: One Night in Manhattan»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Copyright

Chapter One

“Don’t even think I haven’t noticed you checking out the brunette at the bar.”

Dr. Brandon Bishop grimaced. Had his inability to keep his eyes off the dark-haired beauty from the second she’d stepped into O’Malley’s been that obvious?

Probably.

Even now he struggled to tear his gaze away from where she sat at the long mahogany bar, studying a menu, and looking as if she’d walked straight out of a fantasy.

Not that he had the time or inclination for fantasies that involved anything other than the neurology department at the Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital. He hadn’t, but all that was about to change.

A month from now everything about his life would be different.

Forcing his attention back to his friends, Brandon took a sip from his soda and met Ryan’s amused blue eyes. “She’s a lot better view than looking at you.”

Laughter broke out around the table and a few of their coworkers jabbed Ryan in the side.

“He does have a point,” one of the other neurologists pointed out.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but he better be taking a long look because very soon he’s going to miss this ole mug of mine.”

“I just can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Becky, a nurse, said with a long sigh. “How could you leave Angel’s?”

A twinge of guilt hit Brandon.

A twinge? More like being shot in the chest, but he wouldn’t let that get to him. Not now. He wouldn’t let his friends see even a glimmer of doubt about his decision to resign as head of neurology to take a research position in California.

“Year round sunshine and an ocean breeze?” Brandon went for flippant. No way was he going to tell his coworkers about what had really triggered his decision to leave New York City.

“Not to mention all those tanned California girls,” another of their coworkers teased.

Brandon’s gaze shifted back to the bar. He seriously doubted any California girl could compare to the woman pointing to an item on the menu and smiling at the bartender. Her smile lit up the entire bar and grill. Her smile lit up his insides like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

Good question. Why didn’t he?

A thousand reasons to Ryan’s question registered at once, but that didn’t keep from Brandon pushing back his chair.

Ryan laughed and slapped him on the back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

***

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Not even glancing up at the husky male voice, Olivia Bowen gestured in front of her. A not yet touched diet soda rested on a napkin on the bar’s sleek mahogany surface.

“At a bar, but not drinking?” the owner of the voice tsked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Wondering if perhaps she’d have been better off waiting for a table to empty, she shook her head. She’d not meant to set herself up as a target for some barfly hoping to get under her skirt. But she’d been hungry. Her contact at the nursing agency had told her O’Malley’s served the best food around and just happened to be on the bottom floor of the building where her apartment was. They must be serving something right, because the place was packed. Only the bar had been open for immediate seating.

“I’m not thirsty,” she replied, her gaze fixed on the laminated menu in front of her. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d take the hint and go away. She was in New York City to work, take in the sights, and further her nursing skills, not to get up close and personal with a one night stand or even to start a relationship. Bleh!

“Or perhaps you just haven’t found the right drink to quench your thirst,” the man continued, his nice strong voice oozing self-confidence. “I’m just the man to help. I’ve tried several of the house specialties and would be more than happy to make suggestions if you’ll allow me to buy you another drink.”

Just the man to help her? Ha. Who said she needed a man to help her? She didn’t. Not now. Not ever.

Annoyed by his persistence, she lifted her gaze to tell Mr. Over-Confident Barfly that she wasn’t tempted by anything he had to offer and for him to go buzz off. Even if she had been tempted by his offer, she’d learned never to give in to temptation a long, long time ago. It wasn’t a lesson she was likely to ever forget.

But when her gaze collided with the brightest sky blue eyes she’d ever seen fringed with to-die-for lashes, she fell mute, which was better than falling off her bar stool. The man smiling at her with all the charm of the devil himself was enough to knock her right off her tush and onto the barroom floor.

But it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was more. It was the intelligence in his eyes, the assured way he held his body, the magnetic appeal that drew her in as if she had an iron core. Buzz. Buzz.

No wonder he oozed self-confidence. He should be the national spokesman for barflies. Women would be lined up with picket signs reading Pick Me.

“I don’t bite,” he promised, those mesmerizing eyes lowering to her lips, then slowly lifting to reconnect with her gaze.

Lightning jolted through her entire body.

Wowzers. He was hot. Hot enough her skin instantly drenched and her nerve endings were doing some major buzzing of their own. Hot enough that she almost reached out to touch him to see if he was real. Instead she touched her lips, wondering at how full and sensitive they felt beneath her fingertip.

But as a single woman who traveled frequently, she knew men who offered to buy a woman a drink at a bar generally only wanted one thing. She never, ever, ever did that. Hottie or not, she just needed to tell him to shoo.

“That’s too bad.” Olivia blinked. Had that flirty comment really just come out of her good-girl Southern mouth? She wanted to groan. Hadn’t she been going to tell him to get lost and not bother her anymore?

Instead her sanity was what had turned up missing.

At her comment, his grin widened, digging dimples into his cheeks. Her insides snapped, crackled, and buzzed with excitement. Had the central unit gone out in the building or what? Feeling overheated, Olivia resisted fanning her face.

“Brandon Bishop,” tall, dark, and delicious introduced himself, his mouth curving in a way that promised the temperature would get hotter before he moved on.

“Olivia,” she answered, not bothering with a last name. What would be the point? Despite her odd reaction to him, she didn’t do one-night hook-ups and never stayed in one place long enough to develop any real relationships. Foot loose and fancy free. Man free. That was her. She liked it that way. She’d planned her life that way. No way was any man going to get in the way of her life dreams to have a fabulous nursing career and to see the world.

But something about the twinkle in his eyes told her he’d do his best to change her mind given the chance.

Something also told her this man’s best would blow her away. He had that I’m really good in bed look about him.

Or maybe it was just that with his intense blue eyes and devilish grin her imagination wouldn’t let her think of him in any other way.

Ha. A man that good looking was probably so stuck on himself that he’d lie in bed and expect her to orgasm from just being between the same sheets as his very fine body. All pretty polished surface with no substance within. Just like Clay.

Letting her gaze drop down the lines of Brandon’s strong jaw, his throat, over the crisp dress shirt that housed wide shoulders and a thick chest to his narrow hips encased in tailored slacks, she conceded there was no denying that his self-confidence wasn’t misplaced. On the outside, he was pretty darn near perfect.

But a pretty shiny surface could hide a multitude of flaws.

Was he a lawyer? An investment broker? Certainly with his well-manicured hands and expensive clothing he was some type of professional. She imagined they were a dime a dozen in downtown Manhattan.

When her gaze returned to his, the bedevilment had been replaced with molten blue lava. The fiery force of his eyes couldn’t be described any other way. Liquid lava!

She licked her parched lips.

His gaze followed the motion. This time, he swallowed and Olivia grabbed hold of the bar to steady herself because once again she feared falling.

What was happening to her? She did not react to men this way. Not ever. Not even Clay had affected her so instantly, so intensely, and she’d been a silly school girl back then. Yet, her body fizzed like shaken-up soda.

The funny thing was she could see Brandon was just as confused by his reaction to her. His brows had slightly veed and he stared at her so intently she wanted to squirm on her barstool.

Or maybe that was his game? How he picked up his woman of the night. She’d heard about men like him.

“I should tell you up front,” he confessed, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I’m moving out of state soon and not looking for a relationship.”

She barely suppressed an eye roll. Right. Who did he think he was fooling? She might have only arrived in the Big Apple yesterday, but he was New York born and bred, a city slicker through and through. “Why are you telling me?”

“You know exactly why.” His gaze remained steady, intense, hot. He stared at her with great sincerity and grinned. “I suppose that sounded like a bad pick-up line, but in my case, it’s the truth. I’m relocating to California.” He gestured toward the other side of the bar. “Actually, I was having drinks with a group of coworkers when you caught my eye.”

Olivia glanced in the direction he gestured, but the place was so crowded that she really couldn’t tell which group he referred to.

“I saw you walk in,” he continued with a slight shrug of a broad shoulder. “And I haven’t been able to stop watching you.”

Wondering if he was some kind of psycho stalker, she repositioned on the bar stool.

He gave a low laugh, a self-deprecating grin curving one side of his mouth. “I’m not helping myself out here, am I?”

Not wanting to let her guard down, but unable to stop herself from reacting to his seemingly genuine interest and warmth, her lips twitched. “Not really.”

“Anything I could say or do that would convince you I’m not some thug?”

He didn’t have the appearance of a thug, but then, what was that really? Some media portrayed bouncer type who talked in monosyllables? Hello, she watched the History channel. She knew that in reality some of the most notorious serial killers had been nice-looking charismatic men.

She shook her head. “Not really. Sorry.”

Her Momma would be so proud.

“That’s too bad,” he said, their eyes meeting as they realized he’d repeated her earlier words.

Olivia’s breath caught. There was something about the man, something appealing and mesmerizing. But she didn’t do relationships and she sure didn’t do the things everything about him suggested without one.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be over with my friends. You’re welcome to join us,” he paused, his gaze dropping to her mouth and she’d swear his breath hitched. “I could introduce you, show you off to my pals. I’d be the envy of every man in the building.”

On her best night, she seriously doubted that would be the case, but his words warmed her all the same. Then again, maybe he was drunk. He looked sober, but with the way he was looking at her as if he believed what he’d just said, she wasn’t ruling out that possibility.

“No,” she shook her head, reminding herself that men were a life complication she didn’t need. Not that she’d ever forget. Her frequent phone calls with her mother ensured that. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

He waited as if he couldn’t believe she wasn’t going to stop him from leaving. Perhaps he couldn’t. He gave another shrug and then turned to leave.

Unable to deny her need to squeeze in one last look, she twisted on her bar stool. Despite their brief encounter, she suspected his image would linger in her mind for many years, if not the rest of her life. Meeting him was like a searing of her very being and already she felt a void and wanted to call him back to her. Crazy.

He disappeared into the crowd, joined a boisterous group who were obviously ribbing him. Had he made some bold claim to his friends about picking her up?

Her gaze lingered in his direction. She caught only glimpses of him through the moving crowd, but she couldn’t drag her gaze away.

“He seems like a good fellow.”

Startled, Olivia spun, stared at the bartender who dried a glass with a white cloth.

“You know him?” she asked the weathered man who was sixty if he was a day.

“He’s in here a few times a month. Always with a group. Not much of a drinker, but always tips well. Never seen him chat up a woman before.” The bartender set the glass down behind the counter and leaned toward her as if telling her a secret. “Never thought I’d see him strike out if he did. Makes an old fellow feel he might as well push up daisies if the likes of him strikes out.”

Trying not to show how curious she was about the man burned into her mind, she took a sip of her drink. “You can’t judge a book by the cover.”

The bartender laughed low, as if he knew exactly how Brandon had affected her.

“You can’t judge the contents without cracking the spine, either.” His wise old eyes met hers and twinkled. “Sometimes you just have to read the book and when you get really lucky, it turns out to be a keeper.”