Tangling With Ty

As the youngest doctor on staff, Nicole had learned to keep a low profile. She did her job; she did it well. It was all she’d ever wanted.

Even with Dr. Watts staring at her ass. “Can I help you?” she asked politely, turning to look at him so he had to raise his gaze.

He took his time about doing so, and for the first time she was glad she had small, unimpressionable breasts. She wanted to give him as little pleasure as possible.

“Can you help me,” he repeated with a little smile as he finally met her gaze. “Why yes, I believe you can.”

Damn.

“Come with me to the benefit tomorrow night.”

The benefit he referred to was an annual event designed to extricate money from rich patrons and deposit it directly to the hospital’s coffers. It put critical funds at the hospital’s disposal, as well as provided write-offs for the hospital’s patrons. Everyone was happy.

However, it required an evening of stiff smiles for Nicole, who hated dressing up, hated being “on” and hated the forced mingling. This year she’d arranged to be on shift so as to avoid the entire messy affair. “Sorry, I’m working.”

“I can rearrange that for you.”

At a considerable cost, one she figured would involve him and his bed. “No, thank you. I don’t mind missing it.”

“I want you to come with me.”

And what Dr. Watts wanted, Dr. Watts got. “I’m sorry, Dr. Watts, but that wouldn’t be fair to the others.”

“Linc.”

“Excuse me?”

He traced a finger over her shoulder and she just barely restrained her shudder. “Call me Linc,” he said softly. “And I’d consider it a personal favor if you went with me.”

Nicole might have mastered calculus by the age of eight but she’d never mastered basic political correctness 101. “I said no.”

His eyes darkened, and without another word, he strode off.

Uneasy, Nicole watched him go and wondered if she’d just screwed herself by not screwing the boss.

SHE WENT HOME. On the front steps of the building sat a brass lion, its mouth open wide in a silent roar. Shaking her head, she walked past it. Just inside were a vintage-looking gramophone, an ornately decorated headboard leaning against the wall and a marble clock.

Taylor, the poor little rich girl. She’d inherited this building without any of the money she’d become accustomed to in her spoiled youth, with the exception of the antiques she’d been collecting all her life. She’d been selling off the beloved pieces to cover the costs of bringing the building back to its former glory. Resourcefulness. It was one of the things Nicole appreciated most about Taylor, as Nicole had been forced to be resourceful all her life.

A three-foot-high wooden carved bear holding a fish and wearing a grin sat on the first flight of stairs. Along the second flight were stacks of prints. Nicole was staring at one of a bowl of fruit, thinking she was just starving enough to actually eat fruit, when Taylor stuck her head out of her apartment.

Damn. More party plans. “I’m really tired,” Nicole said pathetically, figuring Taylor would take pity on her.

Instead Taylor reached out, snagged her wrist and yanked her into her apartment. “We need to talk.”

“But-”

“You’re tired, yeah, yeah. I know. I figured that much and planned the party without you.”

Gratitude filled Nicole, and she felt a little bad about her peevishness. “Thank-”

“Don’t thank me yet, Super Girl. You’re going to need a dress.”

“Oh, no-”

“Oh yes. And know it up front, we’re going fancy on this one.”

“But-”

“That’ll teach you to leave me alone to plan things.”

“Well, unplan them.”

“No.” Taylor leveled her stubborn gaze on Nicole. “Suzanne deserves this.”

“Yes, but-”

“Fancy,” Taylor said firmly. “As in silk and lace and high heels and makeup and hairdos and everything.”

Nicole had faced two life-threatening surgeries that day. She’d faced Dr. Watts. And she’d rather face a fire- breathing dragon on top of all of it than get “fancy.” “You’re kidding me.”

“Honey, I never kid about fashion.”

Nicole paled. “Fashion?”

“You and me. At the mall. Your next day off.”

Nicole let out a string of curses that had Taylor laughing. “Oh, and since you owe me on planning the party without you, you can pay up right now. I need a little favor.”

Nicole thought of her bed and sighed. “Taylor-”

“Don’t worry, it’s not difficult. I just need you to run to Ty’s office and give him these.” She dumped a large set of plans into Nicole’s arms. “And this.” She added a file. “Did you like him?”

“What?”

“Did you like Ty?” Taylor laughed at her expression. “What’s not to like, right? He’s sexy as hell, and in possession of a body I could just gobble up.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s too bad we’re too much alike. We’d kill each other.”

Nicole shook her head. “I’m not going to ask.”

“But I’m going to tell. Ty and I, we’re fellow wanderlust spirits.”

“You’ve got wanderlust?”

“Through and through, until I came here and found home. But Ty hasn’t found his home yet. Fighting our own prospective and warring needs would be like living in a battlefield. Nope, much as I’d like a good, naughty affair-and I’m quite certain Ty can do good and naughty-he’s not for me.”

Nicole put her hands over her ears-or at least she tried to around all the stuff in her arms-and Taylor laughed again. “Just go. Tell him I’m giving him the job. The address of his office is on the label, and it’s only three minutes from here.”

Before Nicole could blink, she’d been turned around and shoved out the door. She whirled, but only to hear Taylor’s lock click into place. “I’m not doing this,” she said through the wood.

“Then come back in and help me pick out napkins and plates and menus for the party.”

Nicole stared down at Ty’s name and address and felt a peculiar flutter in her belly. Why was it that every time she thought of him her skin went all hot and itchy and her nipples got happy? “This is a bad idea, Taylor.”

“Since when are you afraid of anyone, much less a man?” Taylor asked through the door.

Since that man could simply look at her and make her feel things she didn’t understand. “I…can’t.”

“Just drop the plans off, Nicole. You don’t have to marry him.”

Yeah, Nicole. You don’t have to marry him. Somehow that didn’t make her feel any better. With a sigh, she headed down the stairs instead of up, and got back into her car.

TY HAD a headache and another e-mail. This was not what he needed after a long day at work. He stood staring at it. He shut his eyes, swore, and stared at it again.

I think you’re Ty Patrick O’Grady of Dublin.

I think you were born to Anne Mary Mulligan of Dublin. Please confirm.

Margaret Mary

Why a Margaret Mary would be looking for him was anyone’s guess, only none of them were good.

Who was this formal-sounding woman, and why did she care who he was? What did she know of the boy he’d been? And he had been a boy when he’d left Dublin, a young boy who’d never looked back. Why should he? He had nothing to look back for, no roots, nothing. His father had taken himself to an early