Seduced by the Heart Surgeon Read online

Page 5


  He ordered and then climbed from the bed. ‘I’ll just have a shower...’ Zack said, and threw her one of the robes. ‘In case breakfast arrives while I’m in there.’

  He turned on the cold tap and, apart from the issue that needed to be discussed, Zack felt amazing. So much so that he was considering not just explaining that his career was the reason he needed more information but breaking their game and finding out names.

  Seeing her again.

  Freya.

  Just as he’d predicted it would, overnight her name had come to him.

  It couldn’t be!

  Zack turned off the shower and stepped into the bedroom, and saw that she had gone. The robe lay on the bed and her clothes and shoes were gone, and Zack let out a breath for his poor handling of things. He went into his laptop and pulled up the glossy brochure that had been sent along with the forms he’d had to fill in.

  There was a photograph of the luxurious Hollywood Hills Medical Center, where he was to be interviewed this morning. He scrolled through several photographs of the doctors and nurses who practised there but Zack bypassed them and went to the section near the end.

  He had already looked her up.

  A few flirty emails had had him curious as to what Freya Rothsberg looked like.

  Zack looked at the photo and remembered being in Nepal and checking out who the woman at the end of the emails was. It was a head shot and her long hair was blonde and straight in this image, unlike the curly brunette of last night. Here it was sleek and worn up and her make-up was neutral and she was wearing a dark grey dress with a high neck and capped sleeves.

  She looked corporate and elegant and almost unrecognisable from the sultry beauty of last night.

  Still, it explained better to Zack why they’d ignited on sight—for a couple of weeks up till Christmas they’d been flirting!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ZACK READ THROUGH their email exchanges in the taxi on the way to The Hills.

  At first it had been a semi-formal ‘Dear Zackary’ type of exchange.

  Zack had been head-hunted by James Rothsberg and he’d had some questions about the charitable side of things so James had flicked over to Freya some of the questions that he had raised.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Dear Zackary,

  James has passed your concerns on to me and I hope I can address them.

  For some time The Hollywood Hills has been looking into a suitable charity to partner and support.

  The highly regarded Bright Hope Clinic was chosen. The clinic treats underprivileged children and is situated in the south of LA, where its services are desperately needed in the densely populated area. As a result their facilities and equipment are severely stretched.

  The partnership of the Bright Hope Clinic with The Hollywood Hills aims to increase the number and scope of cases that can be treated. We are lucky to have world-class facilities and can also allow for easy transfer of emergency or overseas patients using the Hills’ helicopter or ambulance transport system. The Bright Hope Clinic in South LA will still run as usual, with cases requiring more complex care being referred to the Bright Hope at The Hollywood Hills.

  Sincerely,

  Freya Rothsberg

  Public Relations Consultant

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  All good. I’ll take a look into the Bright Hope Clinic and get back to you with any questions.

  Zack

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Dear Zackary,

  I have attached some further information on the Bright Hope Clinic as well as the names of some contacts I have there, who would be happy to answer any of your questions.

  Sincerely,

  Freya Rothsberg

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Zack!

  Please can you email the forms and brochures on The Hills, the postal service is a bit slow in Nepal. Also, I note that you have the same surname as James and wondered if The Hills is a family-led clinic?

  Zack loathed the politics of work and the thought of butting up against husband and wife with their own agendas held no appeal.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Dear Zack!

  Please find attached the brochure that will better explain the clinic structure.

  To address your concern—James is my brother. So, no, there aren’t twenty Rothsbergs or husband-and-wife teams :-)

  Freya!

  He grinned that she’d read between the lines and understood his concerns.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Good to know!

  Zack!

  Flicking through the brochure, he had smiled again when he’d seen who he was dealing with and on a rather long night in Nepal he’d responded again.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  I meant good to know that there aren’t hundreds of you, as opposed to your marital status.

  Zack!

  He’d regretted sending it, because Zack never flirted or got involved with anyone at work, but it had been such a subtle flirt that she probably hadn’t got it.

  Two days had passed and he’d actually forgotten when her response had come back.

  Oh, she’d got it.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Zack!

  Is there a question mark missing in the previous email?

  Freya!

  No he never got involved with people at work, but a quickie with the PR rep surely didn’t count, Zack had thought, and there were slim pickings where he’d been that night and it was nice to dream.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  ?

  Her response?

  There hadn’t been one.

  His next email, after a long day of surgery followed by a very long night in Nepal:

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  ??

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Very single. (Don’t tell James.)

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  I never kiss and tell.

  He smiled as he finished reading and did a quick search on her name, and suddenly Zack wasn’t smiling.

  There was an article on Freya, accompanied by a picture of her collapsed and being taken out of a nightclub and he read about her drug habit. There was a quote from her mother, stating that Freya was finally getting the help she needed and was in rehab.

  He thought of the woman who had slunk out of his hotel room rather than face the music.

  Oh, yes, they needed to talk!

  * * *

  Freya wasn’t proud that she had dressed and left but she hadn’t wanted last night to dissolve into a terse exchange.

  And neither had she liked how one minute they’d been so, so intimate and the next he had reduced it to a lab-report exchange. She’d heard the shower being turned on and had gone red in the face as she’d recalled her pleas and her demands, and
what had felt fine—in fact, amazing—just a short while ago had then felt like an embarrassing mistake.

  She’d pulled on her dress and slipped out of his suite, taking the walk of shame back to her own room. Once in there she had surprised herself by letting out a shocked burst of laughter.

  Who knew?

  Not she.

  Freya showered and massaged loads of conditioner into her hair and then as she dried herself off she looked at her body, turning to see her red butt cheeks. God, she felt better for it. And, now that she thought about it more calmly, Freya liked the head-on way he had tackled the awkward subject.

  She’d print off her results, Freya decided. She would cross out her name and other details and put the relevant part in an envelope and leave it at Reception to be delivered to his room.

  Freya got ready and dried her hair so that it was its usual straight self, and was about to put it up when she remembered why she couldn’t.

  The memory of them had her wanting more. Freya did her best to quell a building want and she pulled out of her wardrobe the dress she had worn before the bridesmaid outfit.

  It had been a one-off, a little sexual adventure and one that was never to be repeated again, Freya told herself.

  She pulled on a neutral linen shift that she wore with flat ballet pumps and she carefully did her very neutral make-up then gave a sigh of relief when she finally recognised herself in the mirror.

  Freya.

  She called down to Reception and asked for her car to be brought around and decided that, given she had late check-out and Red was feeding Cleo, she would come back after the interview to pack. She took the elevator and went to one of the juice bars in the foyer and ordered her regular blend along with a nutrition bar and she was back in control.

  Freya headed over to the business centre and printed the necessary form off, blacked out all details except the relevant part and lined up at Reception. The want and desire for him wasn’t diminishing in the way she’d hoped.

  It was building.

  If anything, the thought of never seeing him again, of it really having been just one night had her hesitate when the receptionist asked if she could help her.

  ‘Could I check in for another night?’ Freya asked.

  ‘Sure.’ The receptionist smiled. ‘I’ll just check that we don’t have anyone incoming for your room. No, that’s fine. Is there anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Freya said. ‘Could I have another card for my room, please?’

  ‘Of course.’

  It took just a few seconds but Freya knew what a monumental few seconds they were. The receptionist popped the card into a little wallet with Freya’s room number on it, but instead of putting it in her bag Freya put it in the envelope along with her blood results.

  ‘Could you please deliver this to room 2812?’ Freya asked, determinedly not blushing, telling herself that the receptionist would not care or even guess what she was up to.

  ‘Sure.’ The receptionist smiled. ‘I’ll make sure that’s done for you. Is there anything else I can help you with?’

  ‘That’s it, thanks.’

  Oh, my!

  Freya was all flustered as she drove to work and then parked in her reserved spot at The Hills.

  It really was stunning. James had put everything into the place and the patient list read like a who’s who of the film industry. They did a lot more than just cosmetic procedures here, though. From obstetrics to intensive care, everything was luxuriously catered for. Well, everything except eating disorders, but Freya was planning on addressing that.

  Just not today.

  Today she had this interview to get through, but there was one good thing about last night, Freya thought—it had made a tiny email flirt seem pretty tame.

  Yes, she’d get through the interview and then head back to the hotel and wait and see if lightning did strike twice.

  Freya walked through the entrance into the foyer with its marble floor and pillars and stunning floral arrangements that were changed daily. A huge chandelier shed a calming light and Freya did her best to walk as if she hadn’t been having torrid sex all night.

  Sometimes the luxury of The Hills gnawed at Freya.

  All her life, disparity had. She could remember tours of Africa with her famous parents. Seeing the utter poverty and then taking off in a luxury jet had felt so wrong. Being photographed with people who walked miles just for water and then watching her mother guzzling champagne for hours and bemoaning her menu selection later had made Freya furious.

  Her questions to her parents had gone pretty much unanswered. ‘Why are they hungry and we’re not?’ Freya had asked. ‘I just don’t get it.’

  ‘We’re doing our bit,’ had been Aubrey’s dismissive response, and her father, Michael, had had no time for his daughter’s questions either.

  ‘Freya, can you just, for five minutes, stop trying to change the world.’

  James had listened, though, when Freya had approached him, and now things were finally getting under way.

  ‘Hi, Freya.’ Stephanie, the receptionist, smiled. ‘James said to go straight through to his office.’

  Freya nodded and promptly ignored Stephanie’s instruction by heading for her own office. Yesterday evening James had finally sent Freya the bio for the cardiac paediatrician. He kept all staff files himself and there were no sneak peeks, even for his sister.

  She wanted to read up on Zackary Carlton rather than explain to James that she was utterly unprepared for this interview. She was usually meticulous in preparation and her intention had been to read up on Zack over a leisurely breakfast this morning.

  She opened up her laptop and accessed the file but looked over as there was a knock on her open door.

  ‘Freya,’ James said. ‘I asked Stephanie to tell you to come straight though.’

  ‘Happy New Year to you too.’ Freya smiled at her brother. ‘Stephanie did ask me to go straight in but I’m just having a quick read through.’

  ‘I’ll deal with all the medical stuff, you just need to explain the publicity side of things and get a decent bio, so we can get the word out he’s on board.’ James gestured for her to come to his office and Freya picked up her laptop and went with him.

  ‘Is he on board, though?’ she asked.

  ‘He has to be. We need this guy,’ James said as they arrived at his office.

  Freya took a tentative seat and thanked the spanking gods he’d stopped when he had, and she started to scroll through the file as James spoke.

  ‘I’ll bring you up to speed—Zackary Carlton. Australian, drifter, arrogant bastard. He won’t commit to more than three months anywhere but, God, he does magic with his hands...’

  Indeed he did.

  Freya looked at the résumé and very impressive bio. There was also a photo attached and, yes, she could concur, Zackary Carlton made magic with his hands.

  It was Him!

  The man she had thought was safely in one of the clinic’s luxurious apartments reserved for visiting guests had been staying at the hotel all along.

  Freya felt sick.

  And doubly so when she thought of the daiquiri-laced emails she’d sent him.

  It was the same man!

  How could she possibly face him?

  Quite simply, Freya couldn’t.

  ‘James,’ Freya croaked.

  ‘What?’

  But Freya couldn’t answer straight away. After all, how did she tell her brother that she’d had random sex last night with the cardiac surgeon he wanted to hire?

  ‘Do you really need me here for this interview?’ Freya attempted. ‘I’ve got the worst hangover. I actually feel a bit sick.’

  ‘You hardly drink.’

  ‘Well, I did last night,�
� Freya lied. ‘I really think I need to go home...’

  ‘Freya, you couldn’t even begin to match my hangover,’ James said, and as the intercom buzzed and interrupted him, it would seem her nightmare had just arrived.

  That sexy, somewhat scruffy man she’d met yesterday scrubbed up terribly well.

  He was clean shaven and wearing a dark suit in a lightweight fabric. His hair was so thick that it was still a touch damp from the shower he had been in when Freya had run, and she wanted to run again now.

  Absolutely she did. So much so that Zack watched her eyes dart to the door.

  Poor thing, he thought.

  Zack was also surprised, not that he showed it. He hadn’t expected her to be on the interview panel and seeing her face pale, rather than redden, he did what he could to put her at ease.

  ‘James.’ He shook James’s hand. ‘It’s good to meet you.’ He turned then to her. ‘Freya...’

  She swallowed.

  ‘I saw you in the brochure,’ he explained as he took a seat, and her embarrassment turned into anger.

  He knew who she was.

  Which meant that he’d known who she was last night.

  Zack’s teeth gritted as he saw her eyes flash in anger and he realised that, far from putting her at ease, he’d made things worse.

  James and his very real hangover were going through the mountain of forms that had come in about the man he would hopefully be recruiting.

  ‘You said no to the apartment?’ James checked as he caught up on some finer details. ‘Was there a problem?’

  ‘Not at all. I just prefer to stay in hotels,’ Zack said.

  ‘What about if you work here?’

  ‘Same,’ Zack answered.

  James was one of the most in-demand cosmetic surgeons in Los Angeles and he looked over at Zack, who was highly in demand too, and he chose not to play games.

  ‘Look, I’m not going to waste your time or mine with small talk. We want you on board. The Hills needs a cardiac surgeon specialising in paediatrics and we want it to be you.’

  Zack gave an appreciative nod. He preferred people who cut to the chase.

  ‘The only issue I have,’ James continued, ‘is that you’re only prepared to commit to three months.’

 

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