“Yes, there is,” she retorted. “Look it up—” Whatever Tamara was going to say died on her lips when the elevator came to an abrupt halt midway between the first and second floors. The emergency light came on and she slapped the emergency button, while muttering a colorful expletive.

Duncan moved over to the panel and released the emergency button, hoping the action would restart the elevator. He waited a full thirty seconds, and then pushed it again. The piercing sound was annoying and deafening. He released it. “It looks like we’re stuck.”

“You don’t say, Einstein.”

“Ditch the attitude, lady,” he countered nastily. “It’s not going to solve anything. It’s apparent someone in the lobby heard the bell, so it shouldn’t be long before we’re out of here.”

Tamara opened her mouth to deliver a sarcastic comeback to the man who not only looked good but also smelled incredibly delicious. He was tall, slender and impeccably dressed in a lightweight gray suit, white shirt and silk tie in varying shades of gray, black and white. His cropped, raven-black curly hair, smooth olive skin and intense light-brown eyes under arching black eyebrows were mesmerizing. A straight nose and firm mouth added to what was an arresting face. And she was annoyed with herself because she found him so physically attractive.

“I hope it’s not going to take too long because I have to go to work.”

Leaning against a wall, Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. “Where is work?”

Tamara closed her eyes for several seconds. “I work in a hospital.” She glared at the man who didn’t appear in the least perturbed that they were stuck in an elevator in a Manhattan highrise. “Can you please push the emergency button again?” She couldn’t control the slight quiver in her voice.

Duncan didn’t move as he continued to stare at the woman with the voluptuous body and sexy voice. If he had ever fantasized about getting trapped in an elevator with someone, then this was his dream come true. She was tall, at least five-nine or ten with flawless tawny skin, and she had pulled her hair into a ponytail ending midway down her back. Her mouth matched her body. It was full, lush and temptingly curved. If the eyes were a mirror into someone’s soul, then hers radiated anger and resentment. The large, dark, slanting orbs gave off sparks that didn’t bode well for anyone on the receiving end of her rage. He forced himself not to look at the swell of breasts under a man’s white shirt. A pair of stretch jeans and black leather mules completed her dressed-down look.

He forced a smile. “I’m certain someone heard the bell.”

Tamara took a quick breath. “How do you know that for certain, Mister-Know-It-All?”

Duncan’s smile faded. She was back with the bad attitude. His temper flared. “Push the damn button yourself if you think that’s going to move the elevator.”

Tamara reached for the button at the same time voices came somewhere outside the door. “We’re stuck in here,” she shouted.

“Hold on, miss. We’re going to try and get you out,” said a muffled voice. “Someone in the Con Ed work crew cut a feeder cable and…” His voice trailed off.

“A feeder cable,” she repeated. “That means there’s no electricity.”

Duncan gestured to the overhead emergency light. “At least we’re not in the dark.”

Tamara reached into an oversized leather tote and took out her cell phone. “I hope I can get a signal in here.” She exhaled a breath. “Thank goodness.” Scrolling through her directory she pushed speed dial. “This is Dr. Wolcott,” she said identifying herself when a clerk answered the phone. “I’m scheduled to cover the six o’clock shift for Dr. Shelton, but right now I’m stuck in an elevator in a building on Park Avenue South. Tell Dr. Killeen I’ll be in once someone gets me out of here.”

“I’ll let—wait a minute, Dr. Wolcott, there’s a special news bulletin coming across the television. The power is out in most of Gramercy Park. Is that where you are?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let Dr. Killeen know that you’ll be late.”

“Make certain you do.”

Tamara ended the call and looked at the man staring back at her with an amused expression. She didn’t know what was so funny. They were trapped in a space less than six feet wide that was getting hotter with each passing moment.

“What’s so funny?”

Duncan straightened. “Are you usually so brusque, Dr. Wolcott?”

She looked down at the toes of his polished shoes. “No, I’m not. Right now I’m a little stressed out. I’m sorry if I was rude to you, Mr….”

“Duncan.”

Her head came up. “Does Duncan have a last name?”

“It’s Gilmore.” He extended his hand. “Does Dr. Wolcott have a first name?”

She shook his hand, noting the palm was smooth to the touch. “It’s Tamara.”

“Tamara,” he repeated. “What does it mean?”

“It’s Hebrew for palm tree.”

“It’s very pretty.”

Tamara smiled for the first time. “Thank you.” She offered him her cell phone. “I was told that half the neighborhood is without electricity. You can use my phone if you need to make a call.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Isn’t there someone you would want to know where you are?”

“No.”

Tamara’s eyes narrowed. “Do you live in this building?”

“No,” Duncan repeated. “I was just leaving a client. Do you live here?”

“I wish. I live in an incredibly overpriced East Village walkup.”

“Living in Manhattan is practically prohibitive.”

“You can say that again,” she drawled. “Where do you live, Duncan?”

“Chelsea.” He smiled when Tamara whistled. “It’s not quite Park Avenue or Sutton Place, but it’s getting there.”

“Where in Chelsea do you live?”

“Twenty-First between Tenth and Eleventh.”

“Isn’t that near Chelsea Piers?” she asked.

Duncan nodded. “I can see it from my bedroom window. Have you ever been there?”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t,” Tamara said truthfully.

She’d worked double shifts for the past four years to pay off her student loans and recoup the monies she’d saved before her ex-husband had emptied their joint bank account with the intent of doubling the money at the blackjack table.

“My hectic schedule doesn’t allow for much socializing.”

Duncan glanced at his watch. They’d been in the elevator for ten minutes. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, let it fall to the floor of the elevator car, and then sat down on it. If he was going to spend any more time confined to such a small space then he planned to relax.

Tamara stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “What do you think you’re doing?”

A pair of clear amber-colored eyes met a pair of coal-black ones. “What does it look like? I’m taking a load off my feet.” He offered his hand. “Come sit down. It’s not as hot down here.”

“That’s because hot air rises,” Tamara countered.

Again, he ignored her quip. “Sit down, Tamara.”

Resting her hands on her hips, she glared down at him. “Are you familiar with the word please?”

Duncan didn’t drop his hand. Baring his teeth, he flashed a facetious smile. “Please, Dr. Wolcott, won’t you sit down?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only Dr. Wolcott at the hospital. Otherwise it’s Tamara.”

Half rising, Duncan eased Tamara down to sit beside him on his jacket. He caught the scent of her perfume. They sat silently as the seconds ticked off to minutes. He checked his watch again. Another quarter of an hour had passed. If Genevieve Henderson hadn’t insisted he stay he would’ve been home by now. It took about half an hour to walk from Gramercy Park to where he lived in Chelsea.

A slight smile tilted the corners of his mouth when Tamara rested her head on his shoulder. “How are you holding up?” he asked after a prolonged silence.

“I’m okay.”

Tamara wanted to tell Duncan that she was more than okay. His tailored shirt concealed a lean, hard body. Soft hands, hard body, she mused, wondering what he did for a living. It was the first time in a very long time that she’d felt so comfortable with a man. After a rocky marriage and less-than-amicable divorce she’d sworn off men. She had dated but hadn’t slept with a man since her divorce, and at thirty-two she was more than content not to change her lifestyle or marital status.

Duncan shifted into a more comfortable position. “Why did you decide to become a doctor?”

“It’s a long story, Duncan.”

“We have nothing but time and you have a captive audience. Pardon the pun.”

Tamara laughed. The sultry sound filled the confined space, sending shivers up Duncan’s spine. He suspected the woman pressed to his side was unaware of how sexy her voice, laugh and curvy body were concealed under a man’s shirt and body-hugging jeans.

“I became a doctor to spite my mother.”

Chapter 2

Tamara couldn’t believe she’d just told Duncan something she’d never told another living soul—and that included the man whom she’d believed was the love of her life before he’d become the bane of her existence. It didn’t matter what she said to Duncan Gilmore because after they were rescued from the elevator the odds were she would never see him again.

“Spite her how?” Duncan asked.

How, she mused, had she not noticed the low, sensual timbre of the voice of the man pressed against her side? Physically he was perfect, and she felt an unexpected jolt of envy for the woman who claimed him for herself.

“I spent all of my childhood and the beginning of my adult life trying to get the approval of my overly critical mother. I’m the youngest of three girls and my sisters Renata and Tiffany are black Barbie dolls, and there wasn’t a day when my mother didn’t remind me that not only was I taller but I also weighed much more than they did.”

“How much do they weigh?”

“Tiffany claims she’s one-ten, while Renata admits to being one-thirteen.”

“How tall are they?”

“Both are five-eight.”

“Aren’t they anorexic?”

Tamara forced a smile. “I’d say they are. At thirty-six and thirty-eight they wear a size zero and a size two after having several children. But Mother says they’re perfect. They had debutante cotillions, but I was denied one because my mother claimed she didn’t want me looking like I was wearing a white tent.”

Duncan stared at Tamara’s hands, which were balled up in fists. He didn’t know whether she’d been an overweight teen, but she definitely wasn’t now. Her figure was full, rounded and undeniably womanly. Everything about Tamara Wolcott was feminine and as close to perfection as a woman could get.

“Were you overweight?”

“No. I was five-ten and weighed one forty-five. My pediatrician constantly told Mother I wasn’t overweight. But she has her own set of standards that were and are totally unrealistic. The Wolcotts have been educators for more than a century, so when I graduated from college it was expected that I go into teaching. I never told anyone that I wanted to be a doctor, so I took a lot of math and science courses pretending that I planned to teach science or math.

“My oldest sister was getting married and Mother was so focused on making certain Renata would have the wedding of the season that she didn’t have time to monitor my life. I took the GMAT and the MCAT, and got nearly perfect scores. Meanwhile I’d applied to medical schools.”

“Where did you go?”

“New York University. I’d been accepted at SUNY Stony Brook, but decided against it because that’s where my father is head of the sociology department.”

“Did you live on campus?”

Tilting her chin, Tamara stared at Duncan. “Not the first year. Getting up before dawn and commuting from Long Island into Manhattan five days a week left me with little or no time for studying. Once I was approved for campus housing my life changed and I swore never to live at home again.”

Resting his hand over her clasped ones, Duncan gave it a gentle squeeze. “Were you screaming, ‘Free at last?’”

“How did you know?”

“I knew a few people who had parents who refused to cut the umbilical cord.”

Tamara laid her head against his shoulder again as if it was something she’d done countless times. “Did it happen with you, Duncan?”

“No. I think it’s different with guys, because we’re expected to grow up and be men, while daddies think of their daughters as little girls even when they’re grown women.”

He recalled the in-depth conversation he’d had with Kalinda’s father who’d said he expected his daughter to be still a virgin when she married. What the older man hadn’t known was that Duncan wasn’t the first man who’d slept with her, but there was no way he was going to reveal that to his future father-in-law.

“Unfortunately the double standard is still alive and kicking,” Tamara drawled, adding an unladylike snort. “I hope you don’t make distinctions between your children whether they’re girls or boys.”

“If I had children, I doubt that I would consciously treat them differently. What I can say for certain is that if some guy decides he’s going to take advantage of my daughter, he’d better make funeral arrangements, because I’d definitely take him out.”

“But you are making a distinction, Duncan,” she argued softly.

“Do you have any children, Tamara?”

“No.”

“Since we’re both childless, then the topic is moot.”

“Because you say so,” she retorted.

Duncan groaned. “Tamara, Tamara, Tamara. Why are you so argumentative?”

Tamara pulled her hands away. “You think I am?”

“Yes.”

She sobered. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I came off sounding that way.”

It was Duncan’s turn to be repentant. “Perhaps I used the wrong word. I should’ve said you appear defensive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a therapist.”

“Nope.”

The seconds ticked off. “What are you?” Tamara asked when he seemed reluctant to answer her question.

“I’m a financial planner.”

“Are you a financial planner or an accountant?”

“I’m both.”

“Do you practice accounting?”

Duncan shook his head. “Not in the traditional sense.”

“Why did you get an accounting degree if not to practice or teach?”

“It’s a long story.”

Tamara gave him a winning smile. “Didn’t you say we have nothing but time? And besides, you have a captive audience.”

Duncan returned her smile with a dazzling one of his own, unaware of the effect it had on the woman beside him. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “What’s that?”

“If you snap at me again, then you’ll have to take me out to dinner. Then I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll take you out.”

“What are you going to say to your wife or girlfriend about taking a strange woman to dinner?”

Duncan angled his head as he met Tamara’s eyes. There was amusement shimmering in the black orbs. “I don’t have a wife or girlfriend, so the issue is also moot.”

Tamara gave him a long, penetrating stare. “I should’ve met you years ago before I was going through what became a very contentious divorce.”

“Are you married now?”

“No. And I’ve never been happier.”

“You didn’t like being married?”

“I loved being married,” she admitted. “It was just how it ended. My ex cleaned out our joint bank accounts, and because I wanted to be rid of the bastard I gave him our Upper Eastside co-op. And if that wasn’t enough he also wanted my dog.”

“Did you give up the pooch?”

Tamara’s eyes filled with tears when she remembered the fluffy white bichon frise that had been her constant companion. Edward Bennett had refused to sign off on the divorce papers until she gave up the apartment and the dog, then he promptly sold the co-op and gave her pet to an ex-wife she knew nothing about.

“Yes. It was either give up Snowflake or go to prison for murder.” Her delicate jaw hardened. “I lost many sleepless nights thinking of the different ways I could take him out.”

Duncan winced. “It was that bad?”

“I was at the lowest point in my life and he knew it. I’d just completed my PGY-3. Third-year residency,” Tamara explained when Duncan gave her a confused stare. “I was just recovering from taking the fourth part of the medical boards and my nerves were shot from working thirty-six hours with little or no sleep. I suspected something was wrong because Edward started complaining that we never got to see one another, and when we did, I paid more attention to Snowflake than I did to him.”

“Didn’t he know that when he married a doctor?”

“He knew exactly what it took for me to become a doctor. He’d been through the same course of study. But it was apparent he’d forgotten.”

Duncan went completely still. “He’s also a doctor?”

Tamara nodded. “We met during my first year in medical school. He was my anatomy professor,” she said after a comfortable silence. “I was twenty, impressionable and very, very gullible. Edward was fifty-six, elegant, erudite, and I didn’t know at the time that I was to become his third wife, or that his daughter was also a medical student at Harvard.”

“How did your parents react to your marrying a man more than twice your age?”

“My father was upset because he and Edward were about the same age, but Mother, being the social climber that she is, was thrilled that her daughter had chosen to marry a doctor.”

“How long were you married?”

“Six years, and in the end I walked away with what I’d brought into the marriage—the clothes on my back. The apartment was his and he’d given me Snowflake as a gift.”

“What about alimony, Tamara? You were at least entitled to that.”

“I thought I was until my lawyer told me that Edward was paying alimony to two ex-wives and college tuition for three children.”

Duncan was momentarily speechless in his surprise. It was no wonder she was angry, abrasive. Tamara had married a stranger, a man who’d managed to conceal his past until it had caught up with him. Was her ex that wily, or was Tamara that naive? It was probably the latter. If she was engrossed in med school, studying for the boards and working around the clock as a resident, then delving into her husband’s past was not a priority for her.

“Do you still see your ex?” he asked.

“Thankfully no. He transferred to a small medical school in Rhode Island.”

“Has he remarried?” Duncan teased.

“I hope not,” Tamara countered. “Being married to Edward taught me one thing—never to put all of my eggs in one basket. When he emptied the bank accounts he took the money my grandparents had given me as a gift for my education. I had to take out a loan to get an apartment because I knew I couldn’t continue to live with Edward, and also to have enough to pay a lawyer to handle the divorce. After I got my license, I worked double and triple shifts to pay off the loans.”

“Your lawyer should’ve forced him to return your money.”

Tamara heard the censure in Duncan’s normally melodic tone. He probably believed she’d given up too easily, that she’d permitted a man to take advantage of her. “There was no money for him to return, Duncan. He’d lost every penny in Atlantic City.”

“If he was that broke, then your attorney should’ve insisted he sell the co-op and return your money.”

“Easy, Duncan,” she teased, “you’re snapping at me again.”

His face was a mask of icy anger. “You were screwed twice. Once by your ex and again by your lawyer.”

“Don’t worry. It’s never going to happen again.”

“Because you say so, Tamara?”

“Yes, because I’ll never trust another man as long as I live.”

“Do you think that’s fair?” Duncan asked.

“What?”

“That you lump all men into the same category.”

“It’s not about what’s fair and not fair,” Tamara countered. “It’s about how men have treated me.”

“It’s how you have let men treat you,” Duncan said in a quiet voice.

“Oh, so you’re blaming me for not knowing that my ex hid the fact that he’d been married before? Or that he’d had children from his previous marriages? It didn’t dawn on me to do a background check on him.”

Tamara inhaled and held her breath before letting it out slowly. The heat inside the elevator car was stifling and she was beginning to perspire—something she detested. She’d gone to a colleague’s apartment in the highrise to shower and change her clothes instead of going to her aprtment in the East Village. If she’d known she was going to be stuck in an elevator, then taking the downtown subway several stops would’ve been preferable, even though she avoided riding the subway whenever possible. Her usual mode of transportation was either a bus or a taxi, the latter only in an emergency.

Despite the build-up of heat in the elevator, Duncan draped an arm over Tamara’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “I’m not beating up on you, Tamara. I just want you to realize that all men aren’t like your ex or the lawyer who swindled you out of your money while not bothering to represent you.”

Tilting her chin, Tamara stared into the large, clear brown eyes with the dark centers. “If I’d known you, would you have advocated for me?”

“If I’d been your financial planner, I would’ve told you to keep your money separate from your husband’s, especially if it was money that you’d accumulated before the marriage.”

She closed her eyes for several seconds. “It was only after I’d completed my undergraduate studies when I told my parents that I’d applied to and been accepted into medical school that they changed their minds about me becoming a doctor. Mother and Daddy put up the money for my first two years of medical school and both sets of grandparents covered the last two. My only consolation was that I wasn’t saddled with having to pay back six-figure student loans.”

“You were luckier than most students. I have clients who make more than adequate salaries but they’re still paying off student loans.”

“Who do you work for?”

“I work for myself,” Duncan said smoothly, with no expression on his face.

Tamara was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know why, but she’d expected him to mention one of the major investment companies. “Do you work from a home office?”

He pointed to her left side. “Scoot over a little and reach into the breast pocket of my jacket. There’s a case with my business cards. Take one.”

Seeing the label stitched on the inside of Duncan’s suit jacket and the monogrammed silver card case told Tamara all she needed to know about the man sitting beside her. Duncan Gilmore treated himself very well. She took out a card, smiling. It was made of vellum with raised black lettering.

“DGG Financial Services, LLP,” she read aloud. “Is your office uptown?”

Duncan smiled. “It’s smack dab in good old Harlem, U.S.A.”

Tamara heard the pride in his voice. “I take it you’re a Harlem native?”

“Born and raised. At least until I was fourteen. Then I moved to Brooklyn.”

“If you work in Harlem, then why don’t you live there?” she asked.

“That’s another story for another time.”

A slight frown creased Tamara’s smooth forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“I snapped at you, Tamara, therefore I owe you dinner.”

She waved a hand. “You don’t have—”

“But I’d like to,” he interrupted.

A warning shiver snaked its way up Tamara’s spine. She shuddered visibly despite the heat. There was something in the way Duncan Gilmore was looking at her that made her feel uncomfortable. “I can’t, Duncan.” she whispered.

“Why can’t you, Tamara?”

“I have to work.”

“Do you work twenty-four/seven?”

<1 2 3 >

На страницу:

Перейти

2 из 3