M.E.: I’m so excited to welcome Macy Beck, the woman behind the lens, and the artistic genius responsible for the ultra-hot Men and Women of St. Blaise Regional Medical Center fundraising calendar.
Macy: Ooh! Artistic genius. I
M.E.: You’re the woman who posed hunky Pathologist,
Marc Mayhew, in nothing but elastic tubing and a syringe cap caught between his
Macy: You’re right. I am a
genius. Too bad you couldn’t see the parts I had to hide.
M.E.: Now you’re trying to make me cry.
Macy: Well, before you get
too weepy, I should clarify that I’m not the lucky woman who gets to go home to
him each night.
M.E.: Last month you mentioned a lab technician?
Macy: Melanie. Now there’s a
girl who defies packaging. To look at her, you’d think she was nothing but a
bubble-headed Barbie doll, but she’s a savvy one, our Mel. She saw the man she
wanted and she set out to get him. Poor Marc never stood a chance.
Here’s the setup:
Lab tech Melanie Curtis claims Dr. Marc Mayhew’s shy
smile won her vote for Mr. May, but the fact is she’s been aching to get a
taste of the delicious Pathologist’s mochachino skin since the moment she set
eyes on him.
Quiet and reserved, Marc was happy to take refuge in
his research until she walked into his lab. He tried to ignore the attraction
that sparked and sizzled each time she drew near, all too aware of the strict
edicts issued by the hospital’s Human Resources department, but he couldn’t
deny that he wouldn’t mind subjugating himself to his bossy little subordinate.
Over and over again.
The only variable he couldn’t predict was how far
Melanie was willing to go to get the results she expected. When she tests his
mettle, Marc finds he’s more than willing to risk everything on a case of
chemistry run amok if it means he can claim her as his. For keeps.
And here’s the snapshot:
Anticipation simmered in her
belly as she unlocked the door. Bracing herself between the casing and the
seven foot panel of solid wood, she was careful to keep her expression neutral
when she looked up. “Hello.”
“Hey.” The porch light danced
across the lenses of his glasses as his husky greeting drifted away on a warm
spring breeze. His shirt was half-unbuttoned. The warm glow of feminine
satisfaction flared to life in her belly when she realized those buttons were
missing. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets but those long, talented
fingers still curled and flexed, stretching the wrinkled cotton twill to its
limits. “I’m sorry, I got…distracted,” he confessed, a sheepish smile twitching
the corners of his mouth.
Curling her fingers around
the edge of the door, she leaned against the jamb, subtly blocking his entrance
until she felt appeased. “I figured.”
He thrust a grease stained
paper bag at her. “I brought you beef and bean burritos.”
She accepted his offering
with a solemn nod. “Thank you.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, he let
his shoulders slump. “Mel, I…I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. I don’t
even know why I did, other than the fact that I don’t like secrets. I guess I
have kind of a chip on my shoulder about…things. Bad experience…And I don’t
want to be anyone’s token.” He turned away and sucked in a deep breath, shaking
his head as he let it go little by little. “I’d tell you it’s me and not you,
but that sounds even stupider in this situation.”
Chuckling, she set the
take-out bag on the hall table and pivoted just enough to grant him an opening.
A very small one, but an opening nonetheless. “Do you want to come in?”
A smile flittered across his
lips, disappearing as fast as it came. He inclined his head and the movement
caused his glasses to slip a bit. Snatching them from his nose, he folded them
into his hand and murmured a gruff, “Thank you,” as he brushed past her.
He stood in her foyer, tall
and fidgety, a live wire turned loose in her life. The man was the embodiment
of kinetic energy, wrapped up rumpled and delicious, just for her. She cocked
her head and crossed her arms over her chest, making it clear she wasn’t going
to let him off the hook entirely. Watching him squirm made her hot. She wanted
to enjoy it a little longer.
Her gaze fell to his big feet
and she stifled a smirk when she recalled the exact proportions of the
so-not-a-pair-of-big-socks he kept tucked away in his Dockers. A hum of
appreciation tickled her throat as she traced the line of his body from slim
hips to broad shoulders. His chin tipped up when he rolled his shoulders back,
standing a little straighter for inspection. A smile curved her lips. Her gaze
lingered on his mouth for a moment before rising to meet his dark eyes.
Their gazes locked and held
and everything stilled. Marc stilled. The disconcerting lack of…anything
flowing between them threw her off balance. He blinked, but the sweep of
curling lashes barely stirred the eerie calm that fell over them. His Adam’s
apple bobbed and the line of his jaw tightened. She held her breath, waiting
for something to break the spell.
“You don’t get to call all
His voice came low and soft,
wrapping around her ankles like smoke and wafting over her. Staring into his
ebony eyes, it was impossible to pretend she didn’t know exactly what he meant.
Precious oxygen seeped from her lungs. Wrinkling her forehead in concentration,
she focused on dragging air back in.
“I don’t mind you callin’
some of them. Like what happened earlier…” His drawl deepened, flowing thick
and rich as molasses over the rough edges of a raspy laugh. “As a matter of
fact, I like a woman with a take-charge attitude.” She looked up and her heart
skipped a beat. He stared straight at her, sparkles of laughter shining bright
in his eyes, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But make no
mistake, if you happen to be taking charge of me, it’s because I let you.”
M.E.: Pardon me while I get something cold to drink.
Macy: Told ya so. And if you
think that was hot, wait until you read what he did the following Monday
M.E.: I think you’re trying to kill me.
Macy: Nope, just making sure
you’re paying attention. Now next month, you’re in for a treat.
M.E.: We are?
Macy: Two people everyone
thought had nothing in common. But I knew better. You don’t spend half your
life peering through a lens and not know that looks can be deceiving.
M.E.: Now I’m really intrigued. So next month you’ll
give us a glimpse at Miss June, but for now, Mr. Mayhem by Maggie Wells is
available in all ebook formats at the Turquoise Morning Press bookstore or your
favorite online retailer. For more information on the Hot Nights in St. Blaise series, readers can visit www.maggie-wells.com