Royal Seduction (11 page)

Gazing across the workout room, Catherine spied some unusual activity between a trainer who was fairly new at the clinic and a male client who was lifting weights.

The trainer, an attractive young woman, was acting as the man's spotter. He was flat on his back as he struggled to extend the weight bar to a full press. What Catherine found so curious was that the trainer didn't seem the least bit interested in her job as spotter. Instead, the woman was bending over the man, smoothing her hands over the muscles of his chest.

Catherine stepped off the treadmill, automatically reaching for the towel that was draped over her shoulders. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead, noticing that several others in the gym were casting surreptitious glances at the couple across the room. Catherine stifled a grin at the trainer's overtly sexual behavior. If the woman kept that up, men would be flocking to the Healthy Living Clinic to work out.

Just then Faye pushed her way through the swinging door. She waved and smiled, making a beeline for Catherine.

Catherine's jaw dropped with surprise.

Faye's dark hair had been cut in a fresh style, and she wore another new outfit, a bright turquoise dress that
looked quite striking on her trim figure. Faye had stopped wearing those white lab jackets. And there was something else about her, something Catherine couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Hey, there,” Faye greeted.

“Your glasses!” The words burst from Catherine's throat. “You're not wearing them.”

Faye seemed all too pleased that Catherine had noticed. Her tone dropped to a conspiratorial level as she revealed, “Contacts. I saw my optometrist yesterday afternoon.”

“Your eyes are so blue!” Catherine tried to keep her amazement under control, but it was next to impossible.

Color flushed Faye's cheeks, making her all the more stunning.

“My goodness, woman!” Catherine exclaimed. “I thought you were beautiful with just a new outfit, but now that I can see your eyes, you're Miss Universe material.”

Faye had the good sense to laugh. “Cut that out. I am not. I'm too old to be a ‘Miss' anything.”

Catherine circled her, looking at her friend from all angles. “But you do have to admit—” she enlisted a sexy accent “—you look marvelous.”

Again, Faye grinned. “I wouldn't be a good judge of that, but I can tell you that I sure feel marvelous.”

“If this doesn't help get you noticed,” Catherine observed, “nothing will.”

A grimace wrinkled Faye's nose. “As I've already said, I'd like to be noticed for my skill as a doctor. And for all the work I continue to put into this place. But if my new look accomplishes the task,” she said with a shrug, “I'll just have to be satisfied, won't I?”

The women shared a laugh.

Faye said, “I came to ask you if we were still on for
lunch tomorrow. I don't want you leaving town without saying goodbye.”

Catherine had told Faye right away that she would be returning home Friday night. “I wouldn't miss it, Faye.”

“Well, I have tons to do—”

“Can I ask you a question? Do you know where Riley is?”

“He's attending a conference over at the hospital.”

Disappointment rounded Catherine's shoulders. “He mentioned that he had meetings, but…”

Faye told her, “It's a two-day event.”

“Well, hell's bells.” Frustration got the better of Catherine.

Her friend's low whistle had her lifting her gaze.

“Someone's got it bad.” Faye's finely shaped eyebrows arched high.

Across the room, the weight bar clattered loudly into its metal cradle. Several people squealed in surprise and others gave a startled jump, but collectively, all eyes turned in the direction of the racket.

The female trainer had straddled the man lying on the weight bench, their kiss deep and obviously thorough.

Catherine couldn't stop her open grin.

Faye gasped.

A few titters and snickers echoed off the gym's high ceiling.

“Diane!” Faye's tone was sharp.

The young trainer's head lifted. Her lips glistened and her eyes were glazed with desire. The man lying prone looked up, too. His expression seemed groggy, as if he'd just been jarred from a deep sleep and was unsure of where he was and what was going on.

Catherine actually pressed her fingers against her mouth to keep from chuckling.

“May I speak to you, Diane?” Faye said. When the woman didn't immediately react, Faye stressed, “Now!”

Diane actually blinked several times. Then she glanced down at the man she'd just kissed, and when her gaze swung back to Faye, her eyes were wide. She lifted her leg over the man, pressing her hand against his chest for balance.

“Mr. Hollister,” Faye said, “you should probably come along, too.”

The man shoved himself to a stand and followed on Diane's heels.

Faye said to Catherine, “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“No problem.” Catherine hooked the towel around her neck. “I'm off to the shower. I'll catch you in a bit.”

Faye nodded, and Catherine trotted off down the hallway leading to the locker rooms.

The latch felt hard and cold in Catherine's grasp. She tossed her towel in the wide-mouthed laundry bin and then turned to pull her duffel bag from the locker. After only a moment, she heard Faye's voice and realized that she'd brought Diane and Mr. Hollister down the hallway to talk. They must have been standing right outside the door of the women's locker room.

“Have you lost your minds?” Faye asked. “I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but—”

“Nothing's going on.” Anxiety painted every syllable of the man's urgent response. “I'm a married man. A happily married man. My wife is going to kill me if she finds out about—”

“She won't find out.” Diane sounded frantic. “Why would anyone want to cause problems for you, Mr. Hollister?” Her tone grew humble as she added, “I'm awfully
sorry. I—I don't know what happened. You have to believe me. You, too, Dr. Lassen. I just don't understand it. One minute I was standing there spotting, the next I was…well, I was—”

“I witnessed what you were doing,” Faye said.

Catherine shouldn't be eavesdropping, but the situation was too humorous not to.

She heard Faye nonchalantly ask, “Mr. Hollister, are you using the NoWait oil?”

“No,” he told her. “I gave mine back last week. I wasn't too happy about it, either. I'd lost three pounds in three days using that stuff.”

“I understand,” Faye said. Switching gears drastically, she said, “Well, I think you should go home today and tell your wife exactly what happened. Tell her that your gym workouts must be working, that they've made you irresistible and that a trainer kissed you out of the blue. Tell your wife that Diane has apologized. And then assure her it won't happen again. Right, Diane?”

“Yes, ma'am,” came the quick answer.

Faye continued, “Mr. Hollister, I think it would be best if your wife heard the story from you. You know how people can be. They love to gossip.”

“You're probably right,” the man murmured.

“I'm glad this is settled,” Faye said.

Catherine shook her head at Faye's confident manner. Was there nothing that ruffled that woman?

She overheard Faye say, “Go and finish your weight training, Mr. Hollister. I'll make sure you have another spotter. Just give me a second to talk to Diane.”

As he walked away, his sneakers sounded like mouse peeps against the clean tile floor.

Faye said, “Hand over the NoWait.”

Catherine could imagine Faye standing there with her palm held out flat.

Diane blubbered, “B-but I only wanted to try it. It's harmless. It's just oil. And I only used a little—”

“You could lose your job over this.”

“Dr. Lassen,” the young woman pleaded, “I need to work. Please.”

“You know we've been collecting the oil.”

“Yes,” Diane said. “That's what made me so curious. About the other…effects.”

“We will not talk about any effects,” Faye said emphatically. “If you're going to remain an employee of this clinic, I have to know that I can trust you to follow the rules and regulations. This oil was not to be used. We're allocating a huge amount of money to testing. If people start talking—”

“People are already talking.”

“And that's exactly why we're taking the oil out of circulation.”

After heaving a sigh, Diane said, “I'm sorry, Dr. Lassen. I was stupid to take it.”

“Yes, well, hopefully the worst is over with. Now back to work. And stay away from Mr. Hollister.”

Everything went quiet. Catherine wrestled her bag from the locker and unzipped it. But she couldn't even remember what she was looking for. Her mind was spinning too fast.

That trainer had been using NoWait, the weight-loss oil that had been touted by Dr. Richie when the clinic had first opened. Diane had practically devoured Mr. Hollister with that kiss of hers. And Mr. Hollister hadn't seemed to mind a bit. In fact, he'd seemed a pretty willing participant.

Suddenly, Catherine's heart was pounding.

She had two days before she had to go home. Two measly days to discover just how desirable Riley found her.

If she had more time, she was certain their friendly relationship would grow into something more. In time, she was sure she could get him to kiss her with uncontrollable passion. He liked her. He enjoyed being with her. And there were moments when a mysterious mood danced around them both. Well, she certainly felt it dancing around her.

But she needed proof that Riley felt it, too. She wanted to be sure. Positive that she had what it took to make Riley desire her without the tiara, without a vault full of money and jewels, without the von Husden reputation.

Damn it! She wanted to feel Riley's mouth on hers. She wanted to feel his fingers smoothing across her bare skin.

But time was running out!

She stared unseeing across the empty locker room.

Could NoWait be her answer?

R
iley knocked on the door of Catherine's suite. Antsy and out-of-sorts, he rocked on his heels and reached to tug on the collar of his shirt.

She wasn't going to like the fact that he didn't intend to stay for the dinner she'd planned, but he had his reasons. Oh, boy, did he ever.

He hadn't actually seen Catherine since they'd shared that extravagant dinner at La Grenouille Dorée, her invitation for tonight having been left in a hand-written note with the clinic's receptionist. Yet, it felt as if he hadn't gone a single minute of the past few days without thinking about her.

It hadn't been that bad, of course, but Riley knew too much of his mental energies were focused on her. They were supposed to be friends, damn it. Friends, and nothing more.

He'd tried to blame the coordinators of the administrative conference he'd just attended. If the speakers had been livelier, more informative, more interesting, then Riley wouldn't have become plagued with boredom. He wouldn't have drifted off into daydreams of Catherine, her light and lilting laughter, her glittering blue eyes, her flirtatious grin.

Oh, that flirtatious grin.

Blaming the conference speakers hadn't been fair, really. Most all of the meetings he'd been required to attend since taking over at the clinic had been tedious at best. He simply wasn't cut out to be an administrator; he missed practicing real medicine.

But, his biggest problem had nothing to do with meetings and speakers. It had everything to do with one blond-haired beauty.

The effect she had on him was damned amazing.

The other night over their after-dinner drinks, she'd stressed that all she'd been looking for was a friend. And he'd been relieved to hear it. But this so-called friendship had him feeling lighter than air. The mere thought of her was like a fresh breeze blowing across his soul.

Riley nearly groaned. Syrupy poetics was not his style.

However, he couldn't dispute the fact that he found Catherine interesting. She made him think. She made him laugh at himself.

Remembering some of her antics had him smiling even now.

He quickly caught himself and frowned. He couldn't let this woman get under his skin. He couldn't allow their friendship to grow into anything more. He'd been doing all he could to control his feelings, his urges. And doing so was becoming more and more difficult.

That was why he intended to cut this visit short tonight. So he could keep a tight rein on their relationship and on himself.

Oh, who the hell was he trying to fool?

He had control over nothing.

He wanted her, damn it! He wanted her bad.

She sparked a blazing desire in him like no other woman he'd ever met.

He'd thought the two days he'd spent sequestered in meeting after meeting would help clear her from his mind, help him get a grip on his reaction to her. But as it turned out, not seeing her had only made him think about her more.

However, no matter how strong his physical needs, he was bound and determined not to act on them. The toughest moment of being with her was always whenever they parted company. He had an overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and kiss her soundly, but time and again he'd skipped a fast step around the moment and had succeeded in escaping with a mere hug or handshake.

He'd only kissed her once. And that had been because she'd asked him to so brazenly that he hadn't been able to refuse.

A chaste kiss that very first time they'd gone out together.

However, he could still feel her luscious lips against his. He could still smell her jasmine scent. All he had to do was close his eyes.

The front door of Catherine's suite popped open, and so did his eyelids.

“Riley! Hi. So you did get my message. Come on in.”

The memory of that one, tiny kiss had so fogged his brain that he just stood there while she turned and walked
away from him. His gaze latched on to the sway of her hips and automatically slid down the long length of her shapely legs. The soft aroma of her perfume drifted in her wake.

Her black skirt was short. And tight.

It wasn't until she flashed her bright smile at him that he realized she was once again facing him. Her blouse was cut low—deliciously low—and the creamy swell of her breasts mesmerized him.

“You do intend to come inside, don't you?”

Her query had a smooth, almost smoky quality to it, and her blue eyes sparkled with a bold and teasing glint. Immediately, Riley became aware of a humming undercurrent vibrating all around him.

“Riley.”

He blinked. “Yes?” Again, he blinked. Step over the threshold and close the damned door! “Yes.” His voice was stronger now. “Of course.”

The effort he put forth was much more than the task required. He gulped in a lungful of air while still facing the door he closed.

Focus, man. You are not staying. He scrambled for excuses. You have dry cleaning to pick up. You have a sick aunt who needs a visit. You have to get to bed early because—

No, no. Do not mention
bed.
Do not even think about uttering that word!

“Riley, are you okay?”

Her silky voice so close to his ear made him jump. He hadn't been aware that she'd approached.

“Fine,” he said. “I'm fine.”

Evidently she anticipated his intention to back away from her and she grasped his arm with both her hands.

“Come and have some wine,” she said, leaning her head
against his shoulder and coaxing him along with her into the sitting room.

Her hair brushed his jaw, and his breath hitched in his chest. He wanted to speak up. He wanted to pull away.

That wasn't quite the truth. He didn't want to do either of those things. But he knew he should do both of those things.

So why wasn't he acting on what he knew he should be doing?

“Guess what I did this afternoon.”

The husky tone of her voice made his flesh come alive, and he felt he was being swept along on some wild Pacific rip current.

She pulled him down onto the couch with her, and released her hold on him long enough to pour the wine that had been breathing on the coffee table. She handed him a glass and then leaned against the couch back, snuggling up close to his arm again. He was aware of the firm roundness of her breast.

Catherine had shown herself to be a touchy-feely kind of person. She'd reach out and slide her palm over his hand during an intense conversation, or poke him on the shoulder with her finger, or give him a diminutive push to make a point. But she'd never quite been this physical before.

“Well, are you going to guess?”

“I—I can't,” he confessed. Hell, he couldn't even think straight. “Really. Whatever you did, though, you seem excited about it.”

“Oh, I am.” She shifted her hips, and ended up even closer to him. “I visited the Boys and Girls Club. It's called Blazers and it's right here in Portland. They run programs for kids who are six to eighteen.”

Energy pulsed from her, lighting up her eyes, her smile.

Lord, she was a beautiful woman. And she never failed to astonish him.

She was supposed to be on a vacation. That was what she'd called it, anyway. She could have gone on a river cruise, visited the Oaks Amusement Park or taken a winery tour. Entertainment abounded in Portland. But what had she done? She'd visited an organization that helps disadvantaged kids.

“Did you know,” she continued, “that eight thousand children participate in their activities and programs. Isn't that amazing?”

What was amazing, he thought, was her.

She blushed, and he knew without a doubt that he'd never seen a woman more gorgeous than Catherine.

“Why, thank you,” she whispered softly. “You're pretty amazing, yourself.”

He felt a frown bite into his brow. Had he verbalized the thought? Was he that discombobulated?

Something was wrong. He should set down the glass, push himself to a stand and make his apologies. He should hightail it out of there. Right now.

If he didn't, something was bound to happen. He knew it in his heart. Felt it in his gut and other places, too.

He had a sneaking suspicion it was the budding urges in those “other places” that kept him seated next to her on the sofa.

What astounded him was that he could be convinced about the right course of action and absolutely determined to follow it when he'd been out in the hallway, yet now he couldn't take action.

Things were different now, with her curvaceous body so close to his, her inviting scent filling his nostrils every
time he inhaled. Her nearness was like some kind of mind-altering drug, or a couple of straight shots of tequila, blurring the line between right and wrong, slackening his determination to stick to his own personal promises to himself. In fact, he was now leaning more toward giving in to all those bad-boy compulsions that were taunting him, something he hadn't done in quite a while.

“And,” she said silkily, “I'm not the only one who thinks so, either.”

The thoughts crowding his head and the cravings that were stirring to life had made him lose track of the conversation, and Riley frowned.

Catherine chuckled and provided, “I'm not the only one who thinks you're amazing, silly.” She squeezed his arm and pressed her forehead to his shoulder momentarily. Then she gazed up into his face and observed, “You're awfully preoccupied.”

Her blue eyes flashed with a blatant boldness—an appealing bravado—that left him thinking she knew full well the sensuous turn his thoughts had taken.

He took a drink from his glass, barely tasting what he suspected must be very expensive wine.

“Anyway,” she continued smoothly, “I met a couple of people today when I was leaving the clinic who had some nice things to say about you.”

Yes, she knew he wanted her, and even though she was talking about a completely different topic, the lush awareness in her tone was sexy as hell.

So was the confidence tipping her chin, straightening her spine.

Riley fought to focus. “People?”

“Mm-hm.”

Her little singsong response might have sounded like a
simple affirmative answer, but she was sending erotic messages. Messages his body was receiving, loud and clear.

She tipped up her wineglass and sipped. “Harry and Carol Higgins. They've been married for twenty-five years. I got talking to them about the clinic. They started coming when Dr. Richie was in charge. Harry said he was sure the clinic would fall apart when Dr. Richie disappeared, and he was pleasantly surprised that it hasn't. Carol said she knew it was all because of you. That you were fully devoted to making the clinic a success. And,” she added, “they went on and on about a seminar you gave in which you encouraged people to continue to exercise and watch their diet, and assured everyone that losing weight was possible even without crutches.”

He nodded. “That was the first week I was at the clinic. One of the things I noticed was how much emphasis everyone was putting on NoWait. It bothered me. I understand that, psychologically, it's easier for people to put faith and trust in something tangible, a prop, a crutch—in this case the oil—rather than to put faith and trust in themselves to conquer their problem. Whether that problem is weight, or tobacco addiction, or whatever, you have to find the strength within to unearth your solution.”

“See there?” she said, leaning over and setting her glass down on the coffee table. “I've been trying to tell you that the knowledge you have really does help people.”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, she twisted her body and slid her bottom onto his lap. Riley's eyes widened. But he didn't protest.

She combed her fingers through his hair just above his ear.

An incredible sensation tumbled down the length of his spine and he fought off a shudder. Desire flared, and he grew rock-hard in the span of a single indrawn breath.

“Harry and Carol were optimistic and positive,” she whispered. “And they gave a lot of the credit to you.”

“That's nice.” His murmured response was automatic. Unable to bend forward to set his glass on the coffee table with hers, he set it on the end table. Then he encircled both her forearms with his hands, pulled them to his chest. It was a knee-jerk defensive move, an attempt to slow things down so he'd have time to think. However, she didn't seem to take it that way at all.

She chose that moment to press forward. Doing so trapped her arms and his hands between them. Then she took his earlobe between her teeth.

He sucked air into his lungs and exhaled her name. The feel of her full breasts pressed against the backs of his hands made his brain haze over.

“Wait, wait,” he murmured.

Catherine pulled away.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

The provocative smile she offered only fueled the hunger within him.

“I'm sitting on your lap.”

“Y-yes,” he stammered, “but—”

“And I'm giving your earlobe a taste. It's something I've wanted to do for a while now. And since I have to leave tomorrow night—”

“You're leaving?”

Her mouth pouted most seductively. “Yes, so you'd better prepare yourself because I couldn't possibly fly out of Portland before kissing you right here.”

She traced the soft pad of her finger along the lower edge of his jaw, her touch as hot as a match flame.

Her head tilted, and her mouth was on him once again. Vaguely, he was aware of her hair brushing against his
neck. Instinct alone forced him to tilt his head a fraction, to let her have her way. Her breasts were so close, so lush and firm, and he knew that all he had to do was shift the position of his hands and those ripe mounds would fill his palms.

“Catherine, Catherine.” Once again he attempted to wrestle his way out of the passionate mire threatening to drown him.