Page 15 of One Reckless Night

7

JARED

It had been two weeks since Dr. Amelia Pritchard sauntered into my life. I hadn’t seen much of her since I showed her the lab. Not that I was keeping track or anything. I’m a busy man—surgeries, conferences, the occasional jet-setting to save lives or straighten out some misguided surgeon.

But today was a Saturday, and for once, I wasn’t rushing off to some far-flung corner of the world. No one needed saving. No one needed lecturing. I hardly knew what to do with myself.

The Key West campus was always alive on weekends. Some of the more dedicated people would still be in the lab, but the majority were going to be enjoying everything Florida had to offer in May.

I was taking full advantage of the rare downtime. I was in my kitchen making an espresso—because why the hell drink anything else? The machine whirred and hummed before spitting out a perfect cup of coffee, fit for a king.

I took a sip, relishing the rich, bold flavor. The sun was already blazing outside, and I thought about heading down to the private beach for a swim. Or maybe I’d go for a run.

I moved to the kitchen island where a stack of files sat, waiting for my attention. To me, it wasn’t work. It was fun. I enjoyed complicated puzzles like the cases waiting for my review. I had glanced at them before bringing them home. I only chose the most difficult. Those were the ones that really got my juices flowing.

One of the files was a particularly gnarly traumatic brain injury. TBIs were something Amelia was studying. The moment I saw the scans, I thought of her and smiled. She’d been buried in her lab since she arrived, working nonstop. Clair had mentioned it a few times, half-joking that Amelia might as well set up a cot in there. I respected the dedication. She was a woman after my own heart.

I scanned the doctor’s notes and the summary from several different specialists. The patient had been in a car accident a year ago, and the damage to their frontal lobe was extensive. They’d been through multiple surgeries, but the cognitive deficits were still severe. Memory loss, personality changes, the works. It was a case that could easily be written off as hopeless, but something about it intrigued me. Maybe it was the challenge. Or maybe it was the thought of Amelia’s reaction when she saw it.

This case could prove to be a good excuse to spend some time with her. I knew I shouldn’t want that, but I did. I wanted to get to know the new shining star on campus. An interesting case would be like dangling a carrot in front of her.

There was no way she could resist the challenge. I put it to the side and opened another file. It was a stroke case—routine, unremarkable, and frankly boring. I tossed it aside without a second thought.

After flipping through the other files, I kept the ones I was interested in and put the others in a pile to pass off to someone else. I carried my cup to the deck. The salty breeze hit me as I sipped my espresso. The view from here was ridiculous—turquoise water stretching as far as the eye could see, the beach below dotted with people enjoying the weekend. My beach, technically, though I didn’t mind sharing. It was part of the perks of working with the foundation.

I leaned against the railing, scanning the scene from my perch. Scientists, interns, and their families were making the most of the warm weekend weather. Kids darted in and out of the surf, their laughter carrying up to me on the breeze. Closer to the water’s edge, a group of researchers were playing a lazy game of volleyball, their movements slow and careless in the heat. It was a good day. A rare day when the humidity was just right. It wasn’t too hot, and the breeze was just enough to stay comfortable.

My gaze stopped on someone walking out of the water. I couldn’t explain why, but I couldn’t look away.

That’s when I realized it was her.

Amelia.

She was walking out of the water like Venus in that painting, her dark hair plastered to her shoulders, her bikini clinging to her curves in a way that made my brain short circuit. She was stunning. Soft and supple in all the right places, her body exquisitely filling out that swimsuit.

She shook out her hair, sending droplets of water flying. The bikini was a simple black with full coverage, but it clung to her in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her curves were generous, her hips swaying subtly as she walked. She looked natural, effortless, and completely comfortable in her own skin.

I shouldn’t have been staring. I knew that. But I couldn’t help it. She wasn’t aware of the effect she had on people. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Either way, she captivated me more than any of my employees should.

She bent down to pick up a towel from the sand, and I forced myself to look away, gripping the railing of my deck a little tighter than necessary. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t some teenager ogling a woman on the beach. I was Jared Welch, for God’s sake—neuroscientist, neurosurgeon, founder of one of the most prestigious research facilities in the world. Women didn’t distract me. They never had.

But then again, Amelia Pritchard wasn’t just any woman.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and took another sip of my espresso. I told myself the sudden spike of lust was purely biological. It had to be. It couldn’t have anything to do with the way she challenged me every time we spoke, or the way her sharp tongue made me feel like I was constantly on edge. No, this was just about her body.

She spread the towel out on the sand, plopped down, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. She opened a book—some paperback with a shirtless guy on the cover—and settled in like she didn’t have a care in the world. It was a side of her I hadn’t seen before. She was always so serious, so focused. But here, on the beach, she looked relaxed. Human.

I was glad to see she was taking a break. I was also curious. I had never been the type to leave one cookie on the plate or deny myself anything I wanted. And right then, I just wanted to be near her.

I walked back inside and changed into a pair of swim trunks. Not wanting to openly flaunt my body, I pulled on a T-shirt too. It wouldn’t stay on for long, but I had a feeling Amelia would definitely call me out if I strolled down there shirtless.

I put on my sunglasses and headed for the stairs that led down to the beach. The sand was warm under my feet. I had eyes only for her. The view was a thousand times better from this vantage point.

“Hey!” Shawn stepped in front of me.

“Shawn,” I said, my voice flat, as if his sudden appearance wasn’t throwing off my very carefully crafted casual vibe. “What’s up?”

He raised an eyebrow, holding a volleyball under one arm and looking at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. “What are you doing here? You never hang out with the rest of us lowly researchers and surgeons.”