Impossible to Resist

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. But even more than that, I want this for my mother. She’s had to read all the bad press about me. The stuff they invent, the disparaging remarks. For once, I want to make her proud. She cried when I told her I landed this part.”

Jacob Wolff sat in silence, his sharp-featured masculine face giving away no hint of his thought process. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t argue with your motives, but I have a hunch that your mother is already proud of you. It sounds like the two of you are very close.”

“We are.” The words whispered from a throat squeezed by the inescapable knowledge that sometime very soon, Ariel Dane was going to be all alone in the world. She shoved the melancholy thought aside. “So to continue … I have to make this movie. But another bout of malaria is the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. I’d like to hire you as my ‘on location’ physician for the duration of filming.”

“Won’t that make you look like a diva?”

“Focus, Dr. Wolff. This is where the boyfriend part comes in. No one can know I’m sick. As far as the director, cast and crew are concerned, you and I will be an item. If I have a flare-up, you’ll cover for me, treat me and make sure the downtime is minimal. They’ll know who you are, of course. No way to hide that you’re a Wolff. And your profession doesn’t have to be a secret. But they can’t know I’m sick.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re delusional?”

“My whole world is an illusion, Doc. I do my best work on the other side of reality.”

He shook his head. “You make it sound so easy. I deal in facts, Ariel. Black and white. I doubt that I have a drop of dramatic talent anywhere in my body.”

“Perhaps not,” she drawled, feeling the urge to needle him, “but you do have a very fine body. That and your medical skills are all I need.”

If she had hoped to embarrass him, she failed.

Jacob Wolff stared at her, almost visibly picking apart her artless words. “What makes you think I’d even consider such a proposition? I have my work, Ariel, my research. Why would I walk away from that?”

Ariel had learned at the tender age of sixteen that she could use her looks and sexuality to get what she wanted in life, particularly from men. Though her repertoire of ploys had been back-burnered as she matured, this might have been a good time to pull one out. But something about Jacob’s invisible but palpable integrity made her loath to cheapen a budding relationship.

She shrugged, gambling wildly. “For the same reason that you became a doctor. You like being needed. And I need you, Jacob Wolff. You and no one else. Will you help me?”

Three

Jacob’s poker skills were stretched to the limit. Keeping a professional mask of impassivity was damned near impossible. By God, the little wench had nailed him.

If Ariel died—a very real possibility if she had a serious relapse—he’d never forgive himself. He had sworn an oath not to do harm to anyone. If he let her walk out the door, he would be violating everything he held sacred about preserving human life.

It was more than any altruistic desire to play the hero. He’d seen death too many times. His mother. His fiancée. His childhood friend. Not to mention patients he had lost in med school—never due to any negligence on his part, but loss nevertheless.

In this instance, there was only one choice to be made, despite the upheaval it would cause in his life. But the danger in agreeing—the emotional and unpredictable side effect—would be his surprising hunger for the delicious Ariel Dane. And that admission raised all sorts of warning flags in his psyche.

“When would you need me?” he asked, mentally flipping through his calendar.

“Ten days from now, more or less.”

“And where will we be staging our tryst? Please don’t tell me that this Oscar-worthy movie is an action flick set in downtown Detroit.”

His humor eased some of the tension from her narrow shoulders. “Lucky for you, no. We’ll be heading to Antigua. Sun, sand, sangria.”

“I’m not much of a drinker. Would that be a problem … in terms of image?”

“Not at all. I rarely drink, either.”

His skepticism must have shown through.

Ariel bristled. “I’ve only been legal for a relatively short time. And in all those months, I’ve rarely had more than a single glass of wine at any party or event.”

He worked to shrug off his preconceptions. She was an actress. A very good one. Playing the wronged innocent would be a piece of cake for her. And Jacob just one more dupe along the way.

But he wanted to believe her. He did believe her. “If I agreed, how long would we be gone?” The flicker of hope that bloomed in her eyes affected him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

“The director hopes to wrap in ten weeks and head back to L.A. All the interior shots will be filmed on a sound stage. You’d be free to return to Wolff Mountain then.”

“What happens if you get sick once you’re back in California?”

She shrugged. “My mother will be around. And I have a couple of friends I trust. But the truth is, by that point, the director and producer couldn’t afford to fire me. Not with that much of the movie in the can. Their only choice would be to wait for me to get better.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

She waved a hand at the wall behind his desk. “I may not have your credentials, Doc, but I’ve got street smarts in spades. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there in Tinseltown. I should know. I’ve got the bite marks to prove it.”

“I’m not committing to anything until we do a complete medical exam. Will you agree to that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

The atmosphere in the room was charged. Jacob felt the blood pumping in his veins. “No.” He was blunt. Determined. In some areas he might be led around by his sex, but not this. Not when it came to a patient’s health.

She paled, her hands twisting in distress. “I’ve already been diagnosed.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have to make my own assessment. What are you afraid I’ll find?”

She stilled, her chin lifting and her expression haughty. “I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t like doctors.”

“I’m distraught.” He hadn’t expected to find anything funny in their situation, but her sheer cussedness amused him. “This will be painless, I assure you.”

“Says the man with the needles.”

He lifted a brow. “Is that the problem? I’ll have to draw blood, you know. But I have a light touch, I swear.”

She rocked back and forth in her chair, arms clasped around her waist. “I’ve been known to pass out when donating during a Red Cross Drive. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll take care of you.” The words slipped from his lips easily, sounding more like a vow than a simple statement. He cursed inwardly, swallowing hard. “Seriously, Ariel. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Will I have to take off my clothes?”

His entire body went on red alert. Ariel. Naked. Beneath his roof. Perhaps building a clinic in his house had been a stupid idea. Because it sure as hell had never occurred to him that he might one day want to walk a patient down the hall to his bedroom.

Or better yet, drag her into the hall and take her standing up because he didn’t have the patience to wait.

Sweat dampened his forehead. His hands, his surgically trained hands, trembled. “No,” he croaked. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then let’s get it over with,” she muttered, rising gracefully to her feet with a little bounce that made her seem younger than at any moment so far. She reached for her designer purse.