Close Remembrance (42 page)

But he doesn’t. His body is tall and muscular, perfectly proportioned. I remember what it feels like to have him inside me, and I feel an unwelcome jolt of arousal.

He’s again wearing jeans and a T-shirt. A grey one this time. He seems to favor simple clothing, and he’s smart to do so. His looks don’t need any enhancement.

He smiles at me. It’s his fallen angel smile – dark and seductive at the same time. “Hello, Nora.”

I don’t know what to say to him, so I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “How long are you going to keep me here?”

He cocks his head slightly to the side. “Here in the room? Or on the island?”

“Both.”

“Beth will show you around tomorrow, take you swimming, if you’d like,” he says, approaching me. “You won’t be locked in, unless you do something foolish.”

“Such as?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest as he stops next to me and lifts his hand to stroke my hair.

“Trying to harm Beth or yourself.” His voice is soft, his gaze hypnotic as he looks down on me. The way he’s touching my hair is oddly relaxing.

I blink, trying to break his spell. “And what about on the island? How long will you keep me here?”

His hand caresses my face now, curves around my cheek. I catch myself leaning into his touch, like a cat getting petted, and I immediately stiffen.

His lips curve into a knowing smile. The bastard knows the effect he has on me. “A long time, I hope,” he says.

For some reason, I’m not surprised. He wouldn’t have bothered bringing me all the way here if he just wanted to fuck me a few times. I’m terrified, but I’m not surprised.

I gather my courage and ask the next logical question. “Why did you kidnap me?”

The smile leaves his face. He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with an inscrutable blue gaze.

I begin to shake. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No, Nora, I won’t kill you.”

His denial reassures me, although he could obviously be lying. I feel a tiny bit calmer, but there is one more thing I have to know. “Are you going to hurt me?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer again. Something dark briefly flashes in his eyes. “Probably,” he says quietly.

And then he leans down and kisses me, his warm lips soft and gentle on mine.

For a second, I stand there frozen, unresponsive. I believe him. I know he’s telling the truth when he says he’ll hurt me. There’s something in him that scares me – that has scared me from the very beginning.

He’s nothing like the boys I’ve gone on dates with. He’s capable of anything.

And I’m completely at his mercy.

I think about trying to fight him again. That would be the normal thing to do in my situation. The brave thing to do.

And yet I don’t do it.

I can feel the darkness inside him. There’s something wrong with him. His outer beauty hides something monstrous underneath.

I don’t want to unleash that darkness. I don’t know what will happen if I do.

So I stand still in his embrace and let him kiss me. And when he picks me up again and takes me to bed, I don’t try to resist in any way.

Instead, I close my eyes and give in to the sensations.

* * *

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Twist Me
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Excerpt from 
White Nights

Author’s Note
: This is a contemporary erotic romance. The excerpt and the description are unedited and subject to change.

* * *

A Russian Oligarch

Alex Volkov always gets what he wants. Once an orphan on the streets of Saint Petersburg, he’s now one of the wealthiest men in the world. But one doesn’t rise that far in Russia without crossing the line . . .

An American Nurse

Kate Morrell has always been capable and independent. She neither wants nor needs a man in her life. Yet she can’t help being drawn to the dangerous stranger she meets in the hospital . . .

A Deadly Game

When Alex’s past threatens their present, Kate must decide how much she’s willing to risk to be with him . . . and whether the man she’s falling for is any different from the ruthless assassin hunting them down.

* * *

“Kate, I’m sorry, but we really need you right now.”

June Wallers, the nursing supervisor, burst into the tiny room where Katherine Morrell was quickly finishing her lunch.

Sighing, Kate put down her half-eaten sandwich, took a sip of water, and followed June down the hall. This was not the first time this week her allocated lunch hour had turned into a ten-minute snack break.

The recession had taken a heavy toll on New York hospitals, with budget cuts leading to hiring freezes and staff layoffs. As a result, the Emergency Room at Coney Island Hospital was at least three nurses short of what it needed to function properly. Other departments were also short-staffed, but their patient flow was somewhat more predictable. At the ER, however, it was almost always a madhouse.

This week had been particularly horrible. It was flu season, and one of the nurses had gotten sick. It was the absolute worst time for her to be out, as flu season also brought a greater-than-usual influx of patients. This was Kate’s fifth twelve-hour shift this week, and it was a night shift – something she hated to do, but couldn’t always avoid. But June had begged, and Kate had given in, knowing there was no one else who could replace her.

And here she was, skipping her lunch yet again. At this pace, she would be skin-and-bones before the flu season was over. The ‘flu diet,’ her mom liked to call it.

“What’s the emergency?” Kate asked, walking faster to keep up with June. At fifty-five years of age, the nurse supervisor was as spry as a twenty-year-old.

“We’ve got a gunshot wound.”

“How bad?”

“We’re not sure yet. Lettie’s kid got sick, and she just left –”

“What? So who’s with the patients?”

“Nancy.”

Shit.
Kate almost broke into a run. Nancy was a first-year nurse. She was trying hard, but she needed a lot of guidance. She should never be on her own without a more experienced nurse present.

“Now you see why we need you,” June said wryly, and Kate nodded, her pulse speeding up.

This was why she’d gone into nursing – because she liked the idea of being needed, of helping people. A good nurse could make a difference between life and death for a patient, particularly in the ER. It was a heavy responsibility at times, but Kate didn’t mind. She liked the fast pace of work in the ER, the way twelve hours would just fly by. By the end of each day, she was so exhausted she could barely walk, but she was also satisfied.

The ER was teeming with activity when Kate entered. Approaching one of the curtained-off sections, Kate pulled back the drapes and saw the gunshot victim lying on the stretcher. He was a large man, tall and broad. Caucasian, from the looks of him. She guessed his age to be somewhere in the late twenties or early thirties. He had an oxygen mask on, and was already hooked up to the cardiac monitor. There was an IV drip in his arm, and he seemed to be unconscious.

Lettie, the first-year nurse, was applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. There were also two other men were standing nearby, but Kate paid them little attention, all her focus on the patient.

Quickly assessing the situation, Kate washed her hands and took charge. The patient’s pulse was strong, and he appeared to be breathing with no distress. Kate checked his pupils; they were normal and responded to light stimulation properly. There was an exit wound, which was lucky. Had the bullet remained inside the body, it could’ve caused additional damage and required surgery. A CT scan showed that the bullet had just missed the heart and other critical organs. Another inch, and the man would be occupying a body bag instead of this stretcher. As it was, the main challenge was getting the wound clean and stopping the bleeding.

Kate didn’t wonder how, why, or who had shot this man. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to save his life, to stabilize him until the doctor could get there. In cases like this – true life-threatening emergencies – the doctor would see the patient quickly. All other ER patients were typically in for a longer wait.

When Dr. Stevenson appeared, she filled him in, rattling off the patient’s vitals. Then she assisted him as he sutured and bandaged the wound.

Finally, the victim was stable and sedated. Barring any unforeseen complications, the man would live.

Stripping off the gloves, Kate walked over to the sink to wash her hands again. The habit was so deeply ingrained, she never had to think about it. Whenever she was in the hospital, she washed her hands compulsively every chance she got. Far too many deadly patient infections resulted from a healthcare professional’s lax approach to hygiene.

Letting the warm water run over her hands, she rolled her head side to side, trying to relieve the tension in her neck. As much as she loved her job, it was both physically and mentally exhausting, particularly when someone’s life was on the line. Kate had always thought full-body massages should be included as part of the benefit package for nurses. If anyone needed a rubdown at the end of a twelve-hour shift, it was surely a nurse.

Turning away from the sink, Kate looked back toward the gunshot man, automatically making sure everything was okay with him before she moved on to check on her other patients.

And as she glanced in his direction, she caught a pair of steely blue eyes looking directly at her.

It was one of the other men who had been standing near the victim – likely one of the wounded’s relatives. Visitors were generally not allowed in the hospital at night, but the ER was an exception.

Instead of looking away – as most people would when caught staring – the man continued studying Kate.

So she studied him back, both intrigued and slightly annoyed.

He was tall, well over six feet in height, and broad-shouldered. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense; that would’ve been too weak of a word to describe him. Instead, he was . . . magnetic.

Power. That’s what she thought of when she looked at him. It was there in the arrogant tilt of his head, in the way he looked at her so calmly, utterly sure of himself and his ability to control all around him. Kate didn’t know who he was or what he did, but she doubted he was a pencil pusher in some office. No, this was a man used to issuing orders and having them obeyed.

His clothes fit him well and looked expensive. Maybe even custom-made. He was wearing a grey trench coat, dark grey pants with a subtle pinstripe, and a pair of black Italian leather shoes.

His brown hair was cut short, almost military style. The simple haircut suited his face, revealing hard, symmetric features. He had high cheekbones and a blade of a nose with a slight bump, as though it had been broken once.

Kate had no idea how old he was. His face was unlined, but there was no boyishness to it. No softness whatsoever, not even in the curve of his mouth. She guessed his age to be in the early thirties, but he could’ve just as easily been twenty-five or forty.

He didn’t fidget or look uncomfortable in any way as their staring contest continued. He just stood there quietly, completely still, his blue gaze trained on her.

To her shock, Kate could feel her heart rate picking up as a tingle of heat ran down her spine. It was as though temperature in the room had jumped ten degrees. All of a sudden, the atmosphere became intensely sexual, making Kate aware of herself as a woman in a way that she’d never experienced before. She could feel the silky material of her matched underwear set brushing between her legs, against her breasts. Her entire body seemed flushed, sensitized, her nipples pebbling underneath her layers of clothing.

Holy shit.

So that’s what it felt like to be truly attracted to someone. It wasn’t rational and logical. There was no meeting of minds and hearts involved. No, the urge was basic and primitive; her body had sensed his on some animal level, and it wanted to mate.

And he felt it, too. It was there in the way his blue eyes had darkened, lids partially lowering. In the way his nostrils flared, as though trying to catch her scent. His fingers twitched, curled into fists, and she somehow knew he was trying to control himself, to avoid reaching for her right then and there.

If they had been alone right now, Kate had no doubt he would be on her already.

Still staring at the stranger, Kate started to back away. The strength of her response to him was frightening, unsettling. They were in the middle of the ER, surrounded by people, and all she could think about was hot, sheet-twisting sex. She had no idea who he was, whether he was married or single. For all she knew, he could be a criminal or a total asshole.