Impossible to Resist

The room seemed far too silent suddenly. And annoyingly stuffy. Ariel wanted to throw open the windows and let in fresh air along with the sounds of the forest. But the room wasn’t hers to command. So she resisted. Barely.

She lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. If he wanted to begin with Act One, who was she to complain? “I took my mother to the Amazon a few months ago. She’s been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer, and I wanted us to go on one last trip while she was still able to manage it.”

Jacob’s gaze was watchful. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Ariel waved a careless hand, feeling anew the pinch of grief. “She’s made her peace with dying.”

“And what about you?”

Her throat closed up painfully, making it impossible to speak for several long seconds. “I’m getting there. It’s been just the two of us for most of my life, so you’ll understand when I say that I can’t imagine my world without her.”

“I’ve read somewhere that she was responsible for putting you in commercials when you were little. Is that true?”

“Yes. Most people assume it was for the money … since my father walked out on us.”

“But you disagree?”

“The money helped. I know that. But I think it was her way of giving me options. She had very few financial resources. But one of her cousins was a talent scout, and she asked him to help her get me started in the industry.”

“Did you ever resent her for that?”

Ariel laughed, caught off guard by his assumption. “Oh, God no. I was a ham from the very beginning. I loved the limelight, the applause, the crowds. Acting gave me validation.”

“But you never went to college, right? You’ve worked straight through?”

Was that criticism she heard in his voice? Or was she being way too sensitive? “I’ve done two movies a year since I turned fourteen, sometimes three. So no, my education ended rather abruptly with a high school diploma. Besides, I wasn’t that good a student anyway, so it was no great loss. And I make plenty of money as it is. Getting a degree would have been a waste of time.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked quietly.

Stunned at his perspicacity, she bit her lip. “Now you’re wandering off topic,” she said pointedly, ignoring his question.

He held up his hands. “Duly noted. Please continue.”

“My mother loves to travel. So when I became successful, I started working on her bucket list during breaks in my schedule. We’ve been to Paris and Rome and Johannesburg and—well, lots of places.”

“Was the trip to the Amazon a success? Did her strength hold out?”

“My mother was a rock. I’m the one who got sick.”

His gaze sharpened. “What happened?”

“We’d been there almost five weeks. It was time to go home. I came down with malaria.”

“You didn’t take medication before you left?”

“I did, but apparently the particular strain I contracted was resistant. I honestly don’t remember much of those three or four days. It was terrible. My mother was so scared. We had hired a guide through a travel service, and he was great. But we were in the middle of the jungle and I was too sick to move. Makimba found a tribal medicine man who treated me.”

“Good Lord.” Jacob sat up, expression aghast. “You could have died.”

“Believe me, I know. But whatever combination of herbal remedies and witch doctor mumbo jumbo he used finally worked. I was weak as a kitten when it was over, but I turned the corner.”

“What happened then?”

She shrugged. “We came home. I was slated to do voiceovers for a character in an animated film. Fortunately, that was studio work in L.A., so I could be in my own bed every night. And the schedule was not as arduous as if I had been in the midst of shooting a regular movie.”

“You need blood tests,” he said urgently. “To identify the exact parasite and to determine what schedule of medication is appropriate. Have you had any of that?”

She winced. “No.”

“Why in the hell not? Jesus Christ, Ariel. This isn’t something to fool around with.” He was almost shouting.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said evenly, projecting as much dignity as she could muster in the face of his disapproval. “I had another flare-up three weeks ago. Not as bad as the first, but still pretty awful. I can’t go to a regular doctor and risk any of this information getting out.”

“Why? It’s not as if you need rehab. You’re ill. What’s the big deal?” His genuine puzzlement was evident.

“In ten days I will start shooting a movie that could change my career forever. Everyone who has read the script agrees that it’s the kind of picture that will generate Oscar buzz. I beat out five other A-list actresses to get the part. If word leaks out that I might become incapacitated in the midst of filming, they could take it away from me.”

“And your career is more important than your health?” Now he blasted her with both criticism and sarcasm. Silvery gray eyes glittered, spearing her with his disgust.

“Back off,” she said heatedly. She leaned toward him, furious with his imperious dismissal of her motives. “You don’t know the slightest thing about my life or my circumstances. It’s a good thing you don’t see patients often, ‘cause I gotta tell you, Doc. You’re an arrogant pig.”

They hovered there like that for half a minute, their faces almost touching, fury arcing between them like a renegade lightning bolt. She could see the rapid heartbeat in his tanned neck, could smell his expensive aftershave.

Amazingly, he was the first one to back down. “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I promised I would listen without judgment and without interrupting, and I managed neither. Please go on.”

Ariel, primed for battle, was unwillingly disarmed. How rare was it to find a man who knew how to apologize? And yet somehow, he still managed to project an air of absolute superiority that set her teeth on edge. Forced to accept his regret at face value, she settled back into her seat.

“I love what I do,” she said. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about the possibilities. I’ve played so many blonde bimbo parts, I wonder sometimes if the character is taking over. But beyond the professional perks of this new role, I have to be honest. The money this movie will make is no small consideration. My mother has no health insurance. I’m paying for all her bills.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. But even more than that, I want this for my mother. She’s had to read all the bad press about me. The stuff they invent, the disparaging remarks. For once, I want to make her proud. She cried when I told her I landed this part.”

Jacob Wolff sat in silence, his sharp-featured masculine face giving away no hint of his thought process. Finally, he sighed. “I can’t argue with your motives, but I have a hunch that your mother is already proud of you. It sounds like the two of you are very close.”

“We are.” The words whispered from a throat squeezed by the inescapable knowledge that sometime very soon, Ariel Dane was going to be all alone in the world. She shoved the melancholy thought aside. “So to continue … I have to make this movie. But another bout of malaria is the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. I’d like to hire you as my ‘on location’ physician for the duration of filming.”

“Won’t that make you look like a diva?”

“Focus, Dr. Wolff. This is where the boyfriend part comes in. No one can know I’m sick. As far as the director, cast and crew are concerned, you and I will be an item. If I have a flare-up, you’ll cover for me, treat me and make sure the downtime is minimal. They’ll know who you are, of course. No way to hide that you’re a Wolff. And your profession doesn’t have to be a secret. But they can’t know I’m sick.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re delusional?”

“My whole world is an illusion, Doc. I do my best work on the other side of reality.”

He shook his head. “You make it sound so easy. I deal in facts, Ariel. Black and white. I doubt that I have a drop of dramatic talent anywhere in my body.”

“Perhaps not,” she drawled, feeling the urge to needle him, “but you do have a very fine body. That and your medical skills are all I need.”

If she had hoped to embarrass him, she failed.

Jacob Wolff stared at her, almost visibly picking apart her artless words. “What makes you think I’d even consider such a proposition? I have my work, Ariel, my research. Why would I walk away from that?”

Ariel had learned at the tender age of sixteen that she could use her looks and sexuality to get what she wanted in life, particularly from men. Though her repertoire of ploys had been back-burnered as she matured, this might have been a good time to pull one out. But something about Jacob’s invisible but palpable integrity made her loath to cheapen a budding relationship.

She shrugged, gambling wildly. “For the same reason that you became a doctor. You like being needed. And I need you, Jacob Wolff. You and no one else. Will you help me?”

Three

Jacob’s poker skills were stretched to the limit. Keeping a professional mask of impassivity was damned near impossible. By God, the little wench had nailed him.

If Ariel died—a very real possibility if she had a serious relapse—he’d never forgive himself. He had sworn an oath not to do harm to anyone. If he let her walk out the door, he would be violating everything he held sacred about preserving human life.

It was more than any altruistic desire to play the hero. He’d seen death too many times. His mother. His fiancée. His childhood friend. Not to mention patients he had lost in med school—never due to any negligence on his part, but loss nevertheless.

In this instance, there was only one choice to be made, despite the upheaval it would cause in his life. But the danger in agreeing—the emotional and unpredictable side effect—would be his surprising hunger for the delicious Ariel Dane. And that admission raised all sorts of warning flags in his psyche.

“When would you need me?” he asked, mentally flipping through his calendar.

“Ten days from now, more or less.”

“And where will we be staging our tryst? Please don’t tell me that this Oscar-worthy movie is an action flick set in downtown Detroit.”

His humor eased some of the tension from her narrow shoulders. “Lucky for you, no. We’ll be heading to Antigua. Sun, sand, sangria.”

“I’m not much of a drinker. Would that be a problem … in terms of image?”

“Not at all. I rarely drink, either.”

His skepticism must have shown through.

Ariel bristled. “I’ve only been legal for a relatively short time. And in all those months, I’ve rarely had more than a single glass of wine at any party or event.”

He worked to shrug off his preconceptions. She was an actress. A very good one. Playing the wronged innocent would be a piece of cake for her. And Jacob just one more dupe along the way.

But he wanted to believe her. He did believe her. “If I agreed, how long would we be gone?” The flicker of hope that bloomed in her eyes affected him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

“The director hopes to wrap in ten weeks and head back to L.A. All the interior shots will be filmed on a sound stage. You’d be free to return to Wolff Mountain then.”

“What happens if you get sick once you’re back in California?”

She shrugged. “My mother will be around. And I have a couple of friends I trust. But the truth is, by that point, the director and producer couldn’t afford to fire me. Not with that much of the movie in the can. Their only choice would be to wait for me to get better.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

She waved a hand at the wall behind his desk. “I may not have your credentials, Doc, but I’ve got street smarts in spades. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there in Tinseltown. I should know. I’ve got the bite marks to prove it.”

“I’m not committing to anything until we do a complete medical exam. Will you agree to that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

The atmosphere in the room was charged. Jacob felt the blood pumping in his veins. “No.” He was blunt. Determined. In some areas he might be led around by his sex, but not this. Not when it came to a patient’s health.

She paled, her hands twisting in distress. “I’ve already been diagnosed.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have to make my own assessment. What are you afraid I’ll find?”

She stilled, her chin lifting and her expression haughty. “I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t like doctors.”

“I’m distraught.” He hadn’t expected to find anything funny in their situation, but her sheer cussedness amused him. “This will be painless, I assure you.”

“Says the man with the needles.”

He lifted a brow. “Is that the problem? I’ll have to draw blood, you know. But I have a light touch, I swear.”

She rocked back and forth in her chair, arms clasped around her waist. “I’ve been known to pass out when donating during a Red Cross Drive. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll take care of you.” The words slipped from his lips easily, sounding more like a vow than a simple statement. He cursed inwardly, swallowing hard. “Seriously, Ariel. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Will I have to take off my clothes?”

His entire body went on red alert. Ariel. Naked. Beneath his roof. Perhaps building a clinic in his house had been a stupid idea. Because it sure as hell had never occurred to him that he might one day want to walk a patient down the hall to his bedroom.

Or better yet, drag her into the hall and take her standing up because he didn’t have the patience to wait.

Sweat dampened his forehead. His hands, his surgically trained hands, trembled. “No,” he croaked. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then let’s get it over with,” she muttered, rising gracefully to her feet with a little bounce that made her seem younger than at any moment so far. She reached for her designer purse.

“Leave it,” Jacob said. “We won’t be gone long and there’s no one around to bother it.”

As they stepped into the hallway that connected the clinic to the rest of the house, Jacob glanced toward the window that offered a view of the driveway. “Is someone waiting for you?” he asked. “A driver perhaps?”

Ariel yawned and stretched, her breasts straining the thin, soft fabric of her dress. “I drove myself. Flew coach. Wore a black wig and fake glasses. Rented a car. I was lucky. No one recognized me.”

“Or if they did, they had the decency not to bother you.”

She laughed. “Do you always assume such nice things about the world at large?”

“People are not all bad.”

“I’m amazed you can have that attitude after what happened to your family. Isn’t that why you’re holed up here? To isolate yourselves from danger?”

Jacob sighed, ushering her into an exam room. “My father and uncle brought us to the mountain for that reason initially, but as adults, we’ve all chosen to live here for different motives. My brother Gareth likes the wild remoteness of the land. Kieran has discovered that despite his world travels, no place else feels like home.”

“And you?”

“I like being nearby to care for my father and uncle. They’re both getting up in years … Both started families late in life. I keep an eye on them. And the location is perfect for my patients who need privacy.” Not to mention the fact that the world at large was a painful place. Jacob had begun his life as an introvert, and the experiences that had shaped him only served to reinforce that tendency.

“Who else lives here on the mountain?”

He fancied she was chattering to distract herself from the upcoming exam, but he indulged her. “I have two brand-new sisters-in-law. And three cousins who come and go.”

She perched on the end of the exam table, swinging her legs, hands propped behind her. “You need a decorator,” she said bluntly.

“Excuse me?” He frowned, opening a drawer and extracting supplies.

“Your color scheme,” she complained, wrinkling her nose with disgust. “It’s like a morgue in here. Black and white and stainless steel. And from what I saw of your house, more of the same. What’s the deal?”

Jacob had never really thought about it, but what she said was true. Her petal-pink dress was the only spot of color in the room. He put a stethoscope around his neck. “Medical research requires extreme cleanliness. I suppose it’s a habit.”

Ariel rolled her eyes and sat up straight. “There’s a difference between sanitary and institutional. You’re rich. Spring for some throw pillows for Pete’s sake.”

He put his left hand on her shoulder and with his right, placed the cold metal disk over her heart, just at the slope of her breast. “This isn’t Club Med. Breathe naturally.”

Ariel froze.

He moved the stethoscope. “Don’t hold your breath.” Her heartbeat was steady, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Moving around to her back, he said, “Breathe in and out.”

She cooperated. Her skin was warm, even through the fabric of her dress. Inwardly, Jacob quaked, stunned by how much he wanted to lean down and trace the line of her spine with his tongue. His usual interactions with actual patients were impersonal. Professional. Businesslike.

But in Ariel’s presence, his brain and his body rebelled. He’d had courses in medical ethics. Never in his life had he been tempted to test the limits of what was decent and right. She had come to him for help. The fact that he could imagine her naked was irrelevant.

He stepped back, out of her line of vision. “Heart and lungs sound fine,” he said hoarsely. The feel of her soft resilient skin was burned into his palm. “The most important thing will be the blood work.”

Ariel flinched visibly. Unable to help himself, he put a hand on her arm. “I’ll be quick. Don’t watch. Turn your head away.”

She craned her neck to see him gathering several empty vials. “This is where a tasteful Monet might come in handy. Something for a focal point.”

He chuckled. “You’re not in labor. Close your eyes if you have to.”

Her expression was morose. “That makes it worse.”

Jacob readied the needle, keeping it out of sight. “Tell me about your trip to the Amazon,” he coaxed. “And keep your eyes on the cabinet over there.”

“Okay.” Her voice hit a high squeak. She was more than jumpy, she was terrified. Shaking, even.

He stroked her arm. “Relax, Ariel. All you’ll feel is a little sting. I need you to make a fist.” With deft movements, he inserted the needle in a vein at the crook of her arm and started filling the first tube.

She made a funny muffled sound and her body went limp. It all happened so quickly, Jacob barely had time to react. He caught her as she fell, but the needle popped loose and blood spurted, spattering her dress and his clothes with modernistic flair.

“Damn it.” He eased her back onto the table, determining that despite her extreme pallor she was in no immediate danger. It seemed prudent to grab another needle and get the blood samples before she came to. No point in torturing her.

When he had what he needed, he took a small towel, wet it and dabbed her face and throat. “Wake up, Ariel. Wake up. It’s all over.”

Finally, her long lashes lifted, eyes the color of gentians gazing at him with confused supplication. “What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, struggling to sit up.

He held her down. “Take it easy. No need to rush.”

She extended one arm, squeezing her eyes shut. “Go ahead,” she said through gritted teeth. “Do it. I’ll be okay this time.”

He stroked her cheek, smiling in spite of his concern about her general health. “I’m finished.”

One eye opened. “What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously. “I thought you had to fill several vials.”

He slid an arm beneath her and slowly lifted her upright. She smelled like sunshine and sweet peas. He inhaled the scent and told himself it didn’t go to his head. “I took the blood samples while you were out cold. It seemed like the thing to do.”

“That’s a little creepy.” Ariel smoothed her hair with both hands and straightened her skirt, rubbing ineffectually at the blood spots.

He stared at her. “Creepy? I was trying to be helpful.”

“Why are we both covered in blood?”

Her suspicious gaze ruffled him. “It’s only a few spots. When you keeled over, the needle popped out.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should hire a nurse. This doesn’t seem to be your strong suit.”

Jacob counted to ten. “Has anyone ever told you you’re impertinent?”

Her grin weakened his knees. “Every day, Doc. Every day.”

“Would you like to change clothes?” he asked abruptly, vastly afraid that he had no control over this situation at all.

“If you’re offering a paper gown, the answer is no.”

Ignoring her levity, he cleaned up the mess, replaced his instruments, and labeled the tubes of blood. “How many times a year do you give blood?” he asked.

“As often as they’ll let me. Every few months.”

“Why?” He was genuinely puzzled.

She nibbled her lower lip, glancing up at him through lowered lashes. “I have a rare blood type,” she said simply. “It’s important.”

And just like that, any last qualms he had about his decision disappeared. Any woman who was tough enough to face down a daunting fear in order to do the right thing deserved his help. Her spunk and “spit-in-the-wind” courage disarmed him as completely as her stunning beauty unmanned him.

He would agree to her proposition. But his emotions wouldn’t become involved. He wouldn’t allow it. Ariel Dane was his patient. And she was far too young for him. Eight years might as well be twenty. Her delicate spirit needed protection, and he was the man to shield her from the world both physically and emotionally.

Only one other woman in his life had drawn from him such an urgent need to play the white knight. And though she had been the light of his world, Jacob had failed her. By the time Diane’s diagnosis was confirmed, restoring her health had been impossible. All Jacob had been able to do for her was offer his love and support through weeks of painful treatments and then hold her hand when she breathed her last breath.

Never would he put himself in that position again. It was far too painful. This time, he was prepared for his role. Doctor, protector, friend. This time, the outcome would be different.

Four

Ariel watched Jacob Wolff carefully. Early in life she had learned to study people … their habits, their idiosyncrasies. The dishy doctor fascinated her. Power and control emanated from him with invisible but potent force. She wanted to fling herself against his calm and see if she could ruffle the waters. Flirting came naturally to her, and though it was perhaps unfair to Jacob, already she acknowledged in herself an urge to see if she could crack the invisible wall he erected to keep people at a distance.

Jacob finished his task and eyed her warily. “I was serious about changing clothes,” he said. She slid off the table, but had to reach out a hand when the room spun in dizzying circles. Unfortunately, the closest unyielding surface was the doc’s chest. It was broad and firm, with sleek muscles that flexed beneath his starched white shirt.

He put an arm around her, which only served to make her dizzier. His cheek lowered to hers. “Are you okay?”

They were close enough that she felt a brief brush from his slightly stubbled chin. She made herself slide from his loose hold. “Never better,” she croaked. “But yes, I’d love to put on some other clothes. This dress looks a little too much like one I wore in a slasher movie a few years back.”

Jacob ushered her out into the hall. “Shall I get your bag out of the car?”

She nodded, her feet glued to the floor by an unnerving bout of shyness. “I would appreciate it. The suitcase is in the trunk. The doors aren’t locked.”

As he stepped outside, she ducked into his office and retrieved her purse. When he returned, she managed a cheery smile. “You’re acting awfully nice for someone who has a reputation for being antisocial.”