The raven-haired chick with the nose piercing playing darts? Too hardcore. The brunette with the plunging halter and the leather skirt? Too easy. The other brunette with the pearl earrings and the fake laugh? Rich and trying to hide it, probably so she can get along with her new friends. It takes one to know one, and the last thing I want is for Daddy's lawyers to come after me, so no.

  Then my gaze rests on a redhead. At least, I catch a glimpse of unruly auburn strands peeking out from under a gray bonnet. Her fingertips run over the rim of her Manhattan as she listens to her friends chattering. Well, she appears to be listening. But is she interested? The rigidness in her rounded chin suggests otherwise. Every now and then, a deep thought shrouds her copper eyes and she wanders off into a daydream. It's just for a moment, and she tries to hide the lapse by putting on this smile that lets me see her gleaming white teeth and the dimples in her cheeks, but I notice it.

  I take another sip of my Old Fashioned.

  Interesting.

  I rest my elbows on the bar and watch her as I finish my drink. She isn't strikingly beautiful - in fact, she's perfectly ordinary in her baggy UMass sweater, her face void of the slightest touch of makeup - and yet I can't take my eyes off her. I'm fascinated by the way she gulps down her drink even though she grimaces at first sip. And by how she taps her fingers on her knee beneath the table when a jazzy song starts playing. And by her habit of putting her finger between her lips. I can't figure her out.

  And I want to.

  As she bites down on that finger to stifle a yawn, I almost chuckle. My friend, Adam, gives me a weird look before standing up next to me.

  "Okay. I've kept quiet this whole time about you checking out the chicks, but dude, you're starting to creep me out."

  "I'm only checking out one chick," I tell him.

  And right now, she's posing with her friends for a selfie. No looking at a compact mirror to see if she has something between her teeth. No applying lipstick. No combing her hair. No fixing her bonnet. She just leans towards the person beside her, looks at the camera and flashes a quick smile.

  I can't tell if she's that confident or she just doesn't care.

  "She's okay," Adam remarks with a shrug. "I like the bonnet."

  I narrow my eyes at him. That's the best he can come up with?

  "Are you going to go over there, or are you just going to stare at her all night imagining her without clothes and jerk off to it later?"

  "Adam..."

  "Don't answer." He lifts a finger. "The great Dustin Montgomery doesn't imagine because he gets the real thing. He doesn't jerk off because he gets chicks to do that for him."

  I grin. "You know me so well."

  Adam snorts. "I've only spent most of the past three years of my life stuck in a lab with you. When you're not out screwing a chick, anyway."

  I pat his shoulder. "Oh, poor Adam. I didn't realize you wanted me to be your boyfriend."

  "Shut up." He takes my hand off as he brushes off my teasing. "If any woman knew you as well as I do, they'd jump off a building before wanting you for a boyfriend."

  I place my hand on my chest. "Now you're hurting my feelings."

  Adam's eyebrows go up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure you had any, given the fact that most of the time, you're as cold and mechanical as that pile of metal and wires you're always tinkering with."

  "I'm not cold," I argue. "Or mechanical. At least, not in bed."

  Adam rolls his eyes. "Right. You're only cold and mechanical when you're walking out the door right after you get out of bed."

  I glance at him. "What's with you? You'd think that after we finally invented something groundbreaking and got the bugs ironed out, you'd be in a good mood. We're going to be millionaires!"

  "You know I don't do good moods."

  Sulky, cynical Adam. Well, I've had enough of it.

  "That's because you don't do." I lean towards him and lower my voice. "Dude, you need to get laid."

  "Who says you're the only who's been getting some?"

  My chin falls. Seriously? I thought he was all work and no play.

  "You, on the other hand, won't be getting any tonight if you just sit there," he adds.

  Before I can ask what he means, I catch a glimpse of the redhead I've been keeping tabs on from the corner of my eye. Walking away with car keys in hand.

  Fuck.

  I shove my empty glass into Adam's hand and jump off the stool. Then I follow my prey out of the bar.

  She heads to the parking lot, to the silver Toyota sedan parked next to my onyx Porsche Cayenne. I slip my hands into the pockets of my black jacket and lean on my car as I watch her disappear halfway into the backseat of hers, seemingly searching for something. Finally, she pulls back. She hits her head on the top of the door and mutters a curse.

  "Shit." She rubs the back of her head through her bonnet.

  "Are you okay?" I ask her.

  Slowly, she lifts her chin so her eyes can meet mine. They grow wide. Her jaw drops. Her hand falls from the back of her head.

  "I..." She glances at the phone in her other hand and slips it inside her pocket. "I'm fine. I just..." She closes the door. "I just hit my head." She rubs it again. "But not badly. It's not like it's the first time I hit my head on the top of the door frame."

  I raise my eyebrows. "So it happens all the time?"

  Again, her jaw drops. "No. I... It's happened before, but not all the time. I'm not... I'm not clumsy. It's just... an accident. I'm fine. Really, I am."

  "And you're stammering," I point out.

  Which is kind of cute, actually.

  Her thick eyebrows furrow. "No, I'm not... stammering. I..."

  I wait for her to finish.

  She wraps her arms around her and rubs them. "It's cold, okay? I... stammer when it's cold."

  "I think I can do something about that. The cold, I mean." I push myself off the Cayenne and walk towards her with a grin.

  Her hands stop rubbing. Her shoulders tense as I stop in front of her.

  "I can lend you my jacket." I start to shrug it off.

  "No." She steps back and puts her hands up. "I mean no, thanks." She slips them back into her pockets. "I was... I was about to head back inside anyway."

  She walks past me.

  No? I guess she hasn't had that much to drink. Which means I'm going to enjoy this even more.

  "You mean back to your boring friends?" I ask her.

  She stops and turns around. "What?"

  "You never wanted to be there, right? You never wanted to drink or to listen to them talk about things that don't really interest you."

  Her eyebrows go up. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

  "You will," I promise her.

  "Ha." She turns on her heel.

  "Why?" I ask after her. "Why go back when you don't want to?"

  She stops but doesn't turn back. "Because I owe them."

  "You owe them?"

  "Some of them brought me coffee when I was studying hard to get into med school."

  "I see." I nod. "And did you get in?"

  She glances over her shoulder. "Yes."

  "Where?"

  "I haven't picked yet."

  "Med school, huh?" I say. "No wonder you were bored. You're too smart for your friends."

  "Excuse me?" Her gaze narrows as she turns to face me.

  Ah. Nothing gets a woman's attention like an insult.

  "You're too smart for your friends," I repeat.

  She crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm too smart for you."

  "Are you?" I step forward. "Just so you know, I'm in graduate school."

  "Studying what?"

  "Mechanical engineering. Mostly robotics."

  She nods. "Really? Wow. I would never have guessed."

  I can't tell if she's genuinely impressed or if she's mocking me.

  "Yeah. I'm really good with my hands."

  I take my hand out of my pocket and make a squeezing motion with it before running it through my hair and resting it on my hip.

  She purses her lips. Maybe she isn't impressed but, she's interested. All I have to do is give her a push or pull her in.

  Before I can do either, she turns away.

  My shoulders sink. "What? Too smart for you?"

  She doesn't answer as she starts walking off.

  "Do you always force yourself to do the things you don't like? Do you think that's smart?"

  Still, she walks.

  "What? Are you actually afraid of doing something for yourself?"

  That makes her stop and turn. And march back towards me with fists clenched at her sides.

  I grin. That's right. Come to Daddy.

  "Who the hell do you think you are?" She glares at me. "Don't you dare talk as if you know me, because you don't."

  "I know you want me," I tell her. "But you're too scared to admit it, just as you were too scared to tell your so-called friends you'd rather stay at home and read a book then go to a bar."

  She stops in front of me and purses her lips.

  "You're curious, but you don't know if it's right. You think you and I could have some fun, but you're not sure you deserve it, or you think you'll regret it later."

  Those copper eyes narrow at me. "Are you a shrink?"

  "You're the one who's going to be a doctor, not me," I answer as I walk to her side. "And I don't know if you've heard, but medical school is tough. And it doesn't get easier. You'll be busy, sleep-deprived and stressed out for the rest of your life."

  She steps away. "I know."

  I look into her eyes as I step forward. "So you know this may be your last chance to have fun?"

  She moves away but her back hits the side of my car. I've got her cornered. Checkmate.

  I lean against the car as I hold her gaze. "You're giving up your life to save others. Don't you think you should do at least one thing for yourself first?"

  The lump in her throat moves. Her breathing becomes more labored.

  And I go in for the kill.

  I lean over and cover her mouth with mine. At first, she doesn't move. She goes as still as a statue, holding her breath. Then, very slowly, her lips quiver and part to let a breath escape.

  I press my lips against hers. She pushes back, hesitantly at first and then more eagerly as she grips the sides of my jacket.

  I lift my hand to stroke her cheek. Her lips part. I slip my tongue in and taste bourbon. I coax hers to play as I push her head back. My hand cradles her jaw.

  The tastes of Manhattan and Old Fashioned mingle between our mouths, the bitters turning into sweet. She moans and the sound goes straight to my groin.

  I grip her hip and bring it towards mine so I can grind my body against hers. Her hands go to my back. Her breasts rub against my chest. Heat and adrenaline rush through my veins. My cock swells. So does my impatience.

  I open the door to the backseat of the Cayenne and usher her in. I hastily get rid of my jacket before joining her.

  The door closes. Our mouths meet again. I slide her bonnet off and run my fingers through her hair as we kiss. I place my other hand on her breast, and when she doesn't protest, I slip it beneath her sweater and her shirt. Her skin feels hot beneath my palm. She shudders.

  I slide my palm up smooth skin, feeling the slim body concealed beneath her baggy clothes. Finally, my fingers brush against something even smoother - silk. I caress her breast through it with my thumb. She stiffens and then pulls her mouth away. A blush coats her cheeks.

  I hold her gaze as my thumb circles her nipple and then presses down. She gasps.

  I kiss her again, robbing her of breath as my thumb slides under the silk cup. It rubs against her stiff nipple and she shudders as she clings to me. Her fingers pierce cotton as they dig into my back.

  I pull my shirt off before taking hers off along with her sweater. I plant my mouth on her neck and suck on the supple skin as I play with her breast. Then my hand slides down. It slips between her legs to caress her through layers of fabric and she throws her head back. Her soft moans fill the car.

  I unzip her pants and pull them down to her knees. She pulls them off the rest of the way, her elbow and leg crashing against the back of the front seats while I trace the lobe of her ear with the tip of my tongue.

  When she's finally free of her pants, I push her down. I suck one of her breasts through silk before capturing her mouth again. My palm rubs against her cotton panties, getting hotter and wetter by the moment. Then my fingers slip in and delve into the source of that wetness, that heat.

  She pulls her mouth away to breathe, to curse, to moan. I watch her tormented expression, torn between delight and despair, as I move my fingers in and out of her. Her hips begin to move. I withdraw my fingers and search for her nub. When I find it, her hips rise off the leather.

  Her shaking hands run across my back. Her nails scratch my skin. Her moans turn into cries. My cock throbs and strains against my boxers.

  I continue rubbing that nub until she's thrashing in the backseat, completely at my mercy, until my discomfort turns to ache, until impatience turns to urgency.

  As fast as I can, I pull down my pants and take my aching cock out. She takes off her drenched underwear.

  Just a moment before entering her, I look into her eyes. With tears beading at the corners, her eyelids drooping, and the haze of lust thick beneath them, I can barely see anything.

  That doesn't count as a "no", so I push in, keeping her mouth busy as I bury my cock deeper and deeper inside her.

  Fuck. She's tight.

  In the midst of all the fog shrouding my sex-crazed mind, a thought forms. Is she a virgin?

  Not anymore, I think as I give one last push to sheathe my erection completely inside her. She whimpers.

  I gaze at her once more. "Are you okay?"

  She nods and answers with a shaky voice, "Just get it over with."

  How she can manage to be bossy when she's trembling beneath me is beyond me, but I don't mind it. I just obey.

  I start moving, allowing desire to take control.

  The rhythm consumes me. Her gasps and my grunts fill the car. Heat seeps out of my skin and sweat trickles down my face.

  I move even faster, as fast as I can in the cramped space. Her hands move to my shoulders, gripping them as she gives in to pleasure.

  Her back arches and her entire body shudders as she tightens around me. I manage a few more thrusts and pour myself into her just as her shuddering dies down.

  After that, I stay still for a moment to catch my breath and wait for the haze to pass. Then I pull out. I put my pants back on, then grab the box of tissues from the glove compartment.

  "Get cleaned up and dressed," I say as I put the box on her chest.

  Before she can answer or give me any kind of look, I grab my shirt and jacket and get out of the car. I close the door to give her some privacy and wait.

  After a few minutes, the door opens and she emerges, fully clothed. Her hair is a mess. Her mouth forms a scowl.

  I give that mouth one last kiss, a quick one as I close the car door and lock it.

  "See you back inside," I say before walking off as if nothing happened. I don't even glance back. I just place my car keys in my pocket and walk back to the bar.

  Cold and mechanical, just as Adam said.

  And fucking satisfied.

  Chapter One

  Marian

  The smell of blood - death - and bleach - sterility. The sound of wheels turning as someone is rolled into surgery, of shoes skidding frantically to get where they need to be, of a keyboard clicking, of a phone ringing, of someone yelling, wailing, holding their breath. I sense them all when I close my eyes. And if I close my eyes even tighter, I can almost hear hearts beating, some growing weaker by the minute, others fighting...

  "Dr. Red!" The voice of Dr. Hansen jolts me out of my reverie.

  I open my eyes to find the petite, wide-hipped gynecologist standing in front of me, staring at me - no, glaring at me - from behind her red-framed eyeglasses and now, from above them.

  I clear my throat. "Yes, Dr. Hansen?"

  "Do you want me to tell Dr. Townsend you've been napping in the corridor?"

  My back straightens. My eyes open wide, alert. "No, Dr. Hansen."

  I definitely don't want the Chief Resident to know that, especially not when I already pissed him off last week when I failed to report that my intern had gone AWOL. Not that he ever liked me to begin with, not since I caught him making out with a nurse on the stairwell two weeks into my internship.

  "Then go get the lab results for Mrs. Archer stat," Dr. Hansen barks. "And don't let me catch you napping again, Red."

  "Yes, ma'am," I answer as she waddles off.

  I let out a sigh as I lean against the wall and look up at the ceiling.

  "What happened to you?" Kelly asks as she passes by.

  I glance at my fellow resident. "Did I tell you that Dr. Hansen still calls me 'Dr. Red'? I've told her a gazillion times that my name is Marian Carver. Dr. Carver."

  "And I've told her a gazillion times that my name is Kelly Burbank, but she still calls me 'Braids'. Even though I'm no longer wearing braids." She points to her blonde ponytail. "At least she calls you 'Doctor'."

  "Only when she's really pissed," I say.

  "Like how your mother used to say your whole name when she was pissed?"

  I give another sigh. "I barely knew my mother, remember?"

  "Right. Sorry."

  "Anyway, I better go," I tell her as I pull myself off the wall. "I need to get lab results for Dr. Duckberg."

  I start walking off.

  "Hey," Kelly calls after me. "Are you alright?"

  Sweet, sweet Kelly. Sometimes I think she's too sweet to be a doctor. Other times, I think she's exactly what this hospital needs. And what I need.

  I stop and glance over my shoulder. "I'm fine, Kel. I've just been having a bad morning is all."

  "Okay."

  I keep walking. "I'm fine, Kel. I'm not one of your patients, so I don't need you to worry about me."

  "If you say so."

  I glance back. "By the way, have you, by any chance, seen my interns? I mean the three interns I have left."

  Kelly shakes her head. "Nope."

  I roll my eyes. God, I sure hope they're not having a threesome in the supply closet.