CHAPTER SEVEN
Jacine
Jersey Dys walked behind me as I caught up with the doctor at the elevator.
“Dr. Jones. I didn’t want to worry my father, but will he be all right?”
“Certainly, Miss Alexander. We’ve made big advancements in Coronary medicine that past few decades. The imaging we performed on your father displayed a small problem that time would make worse. We are hitting this ahead of the curve which can only increase the odds for a good outcome.”
“That sounds encouraging.”
“It is. You and your boyfriend have nothing to worry about.”
“Boyfriend?” she said, but the doctor’s phone rang and glanced at it.
“Never a dull moment in the ICCU. If you have any questions, call me.”
He ran off, and I puzzled over what he meant.
“Boyfriend?” I said out loud.
“He must have thought you and me are a thing,” Jersey said. He smiled a broad shit-eating grin at me.
“You?”
“Don’t look so offended. You might hurt my feelings.”
“You have no feelings to hurt, except when it comes to Cole Kane and Rory Holmes.”
“That’s a low blow. You are getting cranky like your old man. Are you hypoglycemic? Do I need to get some food into you?”
He slipped his arm around my waist and pushed the call button for the elevator. Damn, he smelled good, like smoke, moss and fresh earth.
“Hmm,” I said. “What is that cologne? I don’t recognize it.”
“It’s from my new line of men’s grooming products.”
“You? Diversify?”
“My business manager, well, ex-business manager, thought it was a good idea. But he had a friend in the business, so it was synchronicity, you know?”
More like his skanky business manager scored funding from Jersey for his friend’s business, which smacked of conflict of interest. Sometimes a big name can carry a grooming line, but not always. Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, and Taylor Swift suffered immense fails on their perfume and cologne lines to name a few. But I had to admit this scent was sexy.
“I hope you do well with it.”
We entered the wide-door elevator together since Jersey seemed unwilling to let go of my waist. But one of my spiked heels caught momentarily in the groove between the elevator door and car, and I pitched forward into Jersey’s arms.
“I seem to be doing okay,” he said with a disarming smile.
The elevator doors closed sealing us in our own private chamber.
His strong arms held me upright, and my primal brain, where thoughts of sleep, food, and sex stirred, found the kinetic strength of his guitar playing muscles intriguing. And since my head jammed into his chest from my graceless stumble, my lungs drew in more of his sexy scent. I turned my head upward to catch his chocolate brown eyes sparkling with intent. He lowered his head ever so slightly as if to kiss me and, damn it, I wanted to taste his lips.
This was ridiculous. With salacious fantasies about my father’s best friend, and the sexy encounter with Cole Kane, how can I possibly be thinking about kissing Jersey Dys?
Face it, girl. You’ve suffered one long dry patch.
If that was what drove me to lift my face to his and let him press his lips to mine, then so be it. His lips descended slowly to my lips, and magnetic electricity filled the small space between us, drawing us closer together. Hungrily he took my mouth, like a man starving, pouring such passion in the melding of our lips that went beyond lust.
