Waking Up With Dr Off-Limits

Dr Adam Carmichael—occasional housemate, surgeon extraordinaire, playboy incarnate.

For a moment she wondered if her sleep-deprived brain had conjured him up. Was she that tired after her midnight call-in and subsequent eight hours of surgery she’d actually imagine a man in her bed?

And not just any man but Adam?

Wasn’t he operating in some Third World country or schmoozing bigwigs at The Hague? She shut her eyes, shook her head to clear the fog of fatigue and opened them again. Nope. Still there. And still most definitely Adam.

Jess stood in the doorway, wrapped in nothing but a towel, droplets of water clinging to her undried skin. Suddenly she was very awake. A frigid blast of air from the wall-mounted cooling unit enveloped her, soothing a fiery blush.

The sheer perfection of his body momentarily distracted her from the fact that he was in her bed.

Asleep.

Naked. She’d never had a man in her bed, naked or otherwise, and her breath quickened that the first time it had happened fate had delivered her the man of her dreams.

Would it be wrong to look her fill?

Jess prided herself on having a strong moral code. There’d never been a cause to question it before.

But.

The morning sunlight poked insistent fingers into the darkened room from around the edges of the blackout blind, illuminating his deep golden tan to perfection.

And he was in her bed.

So … she looked her fill.

Adam lay on his stomach, his sandy blond head turned away from the window. Both arms were spread out, easily reaching the sides. His back was a tantalising palate of planes and angles, broad across the shoulders, tapering down to the dip of his back and the rise of his bottom.

The floral sheet had been pulled up to his hips. One leg was firmly entangled but the other had freed itself, causing the sheet to slip slightly and partially reveal a glimpse of naked buttock in all its tanned glory. It was firm, well defined, despite his slumber, and, she noted, the same nut brown as the rest of his body.

He obviously sunbaked naked as well.

Her gaze continued down his exposed leg. It was firmly muscled and deeply tanned. A covering of blond hairs added to its masculinity and Jess followed its length right down to the toes that stuck out over the end of the bed.

She drew in a ragged breath. How was it possible to look so masculine amidst floral sheets?

She knew for a fact he had navy satin sheets on his bed. She’d seen them hanging on the line once. Her dreams had featured an awful lot of satin ever since.

Adam chose that moment to move and Jess froze like a deer caught in headlights. What if he woke and caught her ogling him? But she just didn’t seem able to stop. She watched in fascination as the previously dormant muscles in his back and arms tensed and rippled, assisting the move onto his back.

Jess held her breath.

Luckily, his subconscious chose to roll the way it did as his entangled leg dragged the sheet across his hips and legs, concealing his modesty from her gaze. But that still left a whole lot of male flesh on view.

One arm, bent at the elbow, was flung above his head, emphasising a taut bicep. His strong jaw sported a sprinkling of dark blond three-day growth as her gaze traced the fascinating contours of his full mouth.

A thatch of soft-looking underarm hair barely registered as the firmness of his beautifully tanned, smooth chest drew her gaze lower. It tapered down to a set of abs that would have been perfectly at home on a Rodin statue.

A trail of darker brown hair bisected his six pack. Jess’s throat felt as dry as two-minute soup mix.

She didn’t dare look any lower.

Not that she was any stranger to naked men. As a nurse, it was an occupational hazard. And as a country girl, nature, in all its forms, had infused her life.

But he wasn’t one of her beloved patients. Or a prize-winning bull.

He was an entirely different proposition.

And this was voyeurism. Jess mentally shook herself. What the hell was she doing? The man was twelve years older than her and a total sex god. He was completely out of her league.

Not to mention Ruby’s brother.

Oh, and her landlord!

But what the hell was she supposed to do now? He was in her bed.

Her bed. A bed that she would very much like to be in herself, getting some much-needed sleep.

A bed she’d been daydreaming about all the way home as each footstep down the hill from the hospital had brought her closer to home.

A bed she could almost feel beneath her as she’d pushed open the front door and headed straight for the shower, dunking herself quickly under the cool spray to remove all traces of hospital. Why the hell was he in her bed?

He had a perfectly good one of his own. She’d never seen it, never even peeked inside his bedroom, but it was there, opposite the kitchen door, always taunting her.

When he was away, which was often, the door was always shut. When he was home it opened and shut with monotonous regularity as a procession of women came and went.

He really should just install a revolving one and be done with it.

So, why was he camped out in hers?

She should wake him, demand to know what he was doing.

But … how? Call his name? Shake his shoulder?

Touch him?

Her breath caught in her throat as the thought shocked and tantalised in equal measure. Her pulse had doubled just scrutinising the man in her bed—what the hell would happen to her if she should actually touch him?

Touch a naked shoulder?

She recoiled from the very idea, her fingers curling into her palms. It was too much to even contemplate.

She sighed. There was nothing she could do. Ruby and Tilly had both finished night duty this morning and would be snoring their heads off in their beds. And Ellie was on afternoon shift and wouldn’t be up yet.

It wasn’t fair to disturb any of them.

She was going to have to go and sleep on the couch. In the non-air-conditioned lounge room. On a day that was tipped to reach forty degrees. And already felt like double that.