M.E.: St. Blaise photographer Macy Beck is back! I can’t wait to hear about Mr. March, Macy. Spill!
Macy: Ha! Okay, we’ll get right down to it. You see, Trauma Surgeon Kevin O’Shea had caused his fair share of trauma to the ladies of St. Blaise County. Lots of heartbreak over that one. That is, until Shelli Ann Jones rolled into town. I can’t tell you how much fun it’s been to watch these two sniff around each other.
Here’s the setup:
Shelli Ann Jones never considered ‘It takes one to know one’ an effective pick-up line, but when she runs headlong into St. Blaise Regional Medical Center’s elusive Mr. March, she revises her opinion.
Trauma Surgeon Kevin O’Shea should come with a sign that reads BEWARE OF THE DOG, but Shelli Ann couldn’t hold that against him. She only wanted him for his body. At first.
Kevin is fascinated by his new neighbor. So fascinated, he might be turning into peeping Kevin.
The tables turn when Shelli Ann uses the same meaningless flirtation, casual intimacy, and careful standoffishness Kevin thought he had trademarked against him, forcing him to unleash the full force of his dogged determination in his pursuit to win the heart of the only woman who could break his.
And here’s a snapshot:
“So...which one are you?” she asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
“You said you’re a doctor, right?” He blinked in response to her prompt then shook his head, another winning smile breaking loose. This time she planted her feet. Thankfully, she only swayed a tiny bit under the onslaught. “Are you the Pediatrician?”
“You think I’m Mario?” His derisive snort seemed to startle him as much as her. In two strides he crossed the porch and dropped down a step. Leveling her with a deceptively placid stare, he murmured, “I’m no baby kisser.”
“That makes you either the Ophthalmologist or the Dog.”
“The dog?” Dark eyebrows shot up. “They didn’t take long filling you in, did they?”
Shelli Ann couldn’t resist flashing a smile. She just hoped this one set off the dimple in her cheek. The stupid divot could be damn unreliable when it came to dazzling the opposite sex. “Standard employee orientation in the nursing world.”
Cocking her head, she wafted another smile on a flutter of eyelashes. “So, which one?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, showing off biceps that proved more than respectable in the drool-worthy department. She caught the bulge of his tongue pressing against his cheek. A tiny muscle in his jaw jumped when she claimed his bottom step as her own. “Sugar, when I stare into your eyes, I’m sure as hell not checking for glaucoma.”
Her gaze lingered on the open button on his jeans for just a moment too long before meandering its way up that gorgeous chest. She by-passed his bobbing Adam’s apple and the scruff darkening his jaw, stopping only when she looked straight into his espresso-colored eyes. “Shelli Ann Jones. I’m the new Head of Pediatric Nursing and known baby kisser.” Conjuring a smirk of her own, she offered her hand. “Shake.”
He chuckled at the command but shifted the water bottle to his other hand. “Pleased to meet you, Shelli.”
“Shelli Ann,” she corrected automatically. The tips of his fingers were cool and damp, but the warmth of his palm shot a jolt of electricity through her system that unleashed a flurry of heart palpitations. “I go by Shelli Ann.”
“Shelli Ann.” His dark eyes caught hers and held. “Kevin O’Shea. I’m Trauma.”
“Oh, I bet you are,” she murmured.
This time, his full lips curved into a slow, sensuous, and thoroughly unapologetic smile. Without warning, he jerked her closer. She stumbled against the stair riser and fell right into his chest. His skin was damp but tantalizingly warm. Her heart beat against her temple. The smattering of dark, curling hair between his pecs ticked her cheek. With a soft grunt she straightened, curling fingers into a fist to keep from stroking the downy line that led to all points south and trying to gather a few scattered pieces of her mind to give him.
She blinked, trying to ignore the persistent tingling in her girly parts, but the boyish grin he wore proved even more effective than the sexy smile he hit her with moments before. A laugh burst from her lips before she could stop it. Pressing her fist to her mouth, she shook her head. As if the naughty grin coupled with a hot, half-naked body weren’t potent enough weapons, her oh-so-helpful brain decided to produce the memory of that morning’s concerned frowns and conflicted hesitations. The man was right; he was trauma waiting to happen. Her fellow nurses were also right. Doctor Dog could charm the panties off any woman. For her part, Shelli Ann was grateful he didn’t seem to be putting any real effort behind this particular encounter, and grateful that she wasn’t wearing any panties. This guy more than likely kept them as trophies.
She extricated her hand from his warm grasp and nodded solemnly. When his eyebrows rose in a silent challenge, she offered a patronizing smile. “Good boy. I bet you lie down and roll over like a champion too. Tell me, what’s your stance on begging?”
Dark eyes flamed with interest. Dropping down a step, he made a point of crowding her again. “Begging,” he began, stretching the word until her knees buckled just a little bit, “is not only acceptable in certain situations, it’s encouraged.”
M.E.: I think I love them already.
Macy: It’s hard not to. They drive each other crazy, and the sexual tension! I keep waiting for one or both of them to spontaneously combust.
M.E.: I’m in! March Madness by Maggie Wells is available now in all ebook formats at the Turquoise Morning Press bookstore or your favorite online retailer. You’ll be back next month, Macy?
Macy: I’ll be here, and I’m going to introduce you to a romance that’s been a long time coming.
M.E.: I can’t wait. Thanks for keeping us up to date on the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series. For more information, readers can visit www.maggie-wells.com .