the crowd. All his attention, all his considerable energy, flowed toward her, around her. She felt it as tangibly as a touch...or a kiss. Heat flared in her thighs and her chest, working up and down, making her want to fan herself...or run for cover.
She was, she realized with dismay, not breathing, so she forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly and deeply. Noises in the room faded to faint buzzing, while the corners blurred into nothing. A wanting as powerful as a force-three hurricane built inside her.
Trevor’s father said something and the object of everyone’s attention shifted toward the chief of staff. For Dana, it was like breaking free of a tremendously powerful tractor beam. Her breathing once again became involuntary. The heat waned, as did the desire. The room returned to focus and she could hear what everyone whispered.
If she’d been standing, she would have collapsed into the nearest seat. As it was, all she could do was lean weakly against the chair back and wait for her strength to return.
What had just happened? She shook her head. Scratch that—she didn’t want to know the answer. She absolutely, positively, refused to be attracted to Trevor. No way, no how, not again. She’d sung that song and danced that dance. If nothing else, she had the ability to learn from her mistakes. He might have the gifted hands of Michelangelo, but he had the morals of an alley cat.
Dana shook off the residual effects of her momentary weakness and forced herself to look at the hospital’s chief of staff. Walter approached the podium and nodded to a few friends. The room quieted. From the corner of her eye she watched as Trevor made his way to an empty chair in the front row. He never once glanced her way, so she could only assume what she’d experienced before had simply been the result of low blood sugar or the placement of the moon or something. Obviously Trevor hadn’t been looking at her.
She wasn’t sure how long the meeting lasted. In some ways it felt as if she’d been sitting in her chair for days; in other ways, it seemed only a few seconds. But as soon as Walter excused everyone, Dana sprang to her feet and hurried toward the door. She told herself the real reason she was fleeing was that she had piles of work waiting on her desk, that it had nothing to do with avoiding Trevor. Besides, she need not worry. Already a crowd was collecting around him. A crowd of mostly women, she noted with some disdain. Even if he only greeted them individually, he would be stuck there for an hour.
She continued to walk forward purposefully. The corridor—and freedom—were in sight, when someone touched her arm.
She didn’t have to turn around to identify the person. She knew the same way bats know how to fly in the dark or cats know how to land on their feet. She knew because, despite the years and the past, or maybe because of them, a part of her still recognized him.
She stopped and, without turning to face him, said, “Hello, Trevor.”
“Dana!”
The pleasure in his voice made the heat return. It washed through her, a liquid warmth that dissolved will and purpose along with bones.
Because there was no way around it, she shifted until she was facing him, then glanced up. It was like tumbling out of a tree. For a moment she had a wonderful sensation of free-falling for eternity. Then she hit earth with a thump and had all the wind knocked out of her.
She couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe. She could only look at him and wait for him to blow her away. He did. He smiled. A perfect mouth curved over perfect teeth, exposing a perfect dimple. The man should come with a warning label. Maybe something from the surgeon general or the military—lethal, operate at your own risk.
“I was hoping I would run into you,” he said, and placed his hand on her arm, just above the elbow.
The polite gesture allowed him to guide her out of the room and into the corridor. She thought about protesting, but she hadn’t gotten her breathing going again, so words were impossible. She could only stare mutely and try to figure out why on earth he sounded so pleased to see her.
People passed them. She had a sense of movement and bodies. By the time she had herself nearly under control, they were in the elevator, heading down. She forced herself to remember what had happened all those years ago. How he’d humiliated her in front of the entire school. The anger had long faded, but the sense of shame lingered. Now she focused on that, willing the emotions from the past to push aside the heat and desire she refused to acknowledge. No matter what, she would not want this man again. Ever.
“What are you doing?” she asked when she realized they were alone in the elevator and Trevor was staring at her with a smile tugging at his lips.
“Taking you for coffee.”
She made a show of glancing at her watch. “I’m very busy.”
He shrugged. “So am I, but this is important. Don’t worry, it won’t take long. I just want to get a few things straightened out.”
She didn’t like the sound of that, but before she could complain, the doors opened and two nurses stepped inside. They took one look at Trevor and simpered. There was no other word for their flirty expressions and open body language.
“Good morning, Dr. MacAllister,” they said in unison.
Dana thought about sticking her fingers down her throat and making a retching sound, but doubted anyone else would appreciate the humor in the gesture. The attention was nauseating. How did the man stand it?
Silly question, she thought, glancing at his handsome features. He accepted the adoration with the equanimity of one born to greatness. Women had been fawning over him since he was in the cradle and no doubt they would continue until he was on his deathbed.
“Doesn’t it get boring?” she asked as they exited the elevator, collected mugs of steaming coffee and made their way to a quiet table in the corner. She took the seat facing the rest of the room because she wanted to watch the reaction of the women already there. Most had already seen him and were staring hungrily.
Trevor settled next to her, oblivious to the attention. “Doesn’t what get boring?”
“The women. Or have you grown so used to being worshiped that it’s just matter-of-fact?”
Instead of responding glibly, he took a drink of his coffee, then set it on the small table between them. “I see my reputation has preceded me.”
There was a trace of regret in his tone. Dana dismissed it as wishful thinking on her part. He was too pretty to have values or anything close to a conscience.
“What did you expect?” she asked. “Honeygrove isn’t exactly a small town, but people do know one another. They remember what you were like growing up. Combine that with the hotbed of intrigue one normally finds in a hospital, throw in a fascinating and eligible surgeon—” she motioned to the room behind him “—it’s high drama.”
“You’re right.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. The traditional doctor’s white coat flattered his tan and made already broad shoulders seem wide enough to support a building. She told herself that her attraction was a meaningless physical response to having been without a date for months. In the past couple of years she’d thrown herself into her career. She had a great promotion and raise to show for her efforts, but her social life bordered on monastic.
A moment of silence fell between them. Dana used the time to compose herself, trying to still the faint tremors in her arms and legs and slow her heartbeat. She was a grownup. She could easily handle this situation. Her gaze settled on his face, on well-defined eyebrows and a straight nose. She bit back a sigh—okay, so he was a fine-looking specimen. But that extraordinary body hid the heart and soul of a rogue. She would do well to remember that.
Dana leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Well, Trevor, you called this meeting. What did you want to talk about?”
“You’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week. I want to know why.”
His statement made her stiffen slightly.