Hotshot Doc(98)

He narrows his gaze on me thoughtfully. “As I recall, we didn’t actually kiss.”

I roll my eyes. “Close enough.”

He quirks a brow. “So you don’t think there’s a difference between an almost kiss and the real thing?”

He starts to shift toward me. He has ideas brewing beneath that thick head of hair. There are teenage girls squealing with delight in the living room and I’m holding him at bay as he guides me down onto the bed. In seconds, I’m underneath him and he looks almost sinister from this angle, too intimidating for his own good.

He props a hand on either side of my head and cages me in against the blankets. I couldn’t move if I tried.

“What are you doing?” I ask, voice shaky.

His smirk makes my stomach flutter. “Proving a point.”

He bends his head and I arch up to meet him instinctively. We’ve done this a million times; my body knows just what to do—except he doesn’t kiss me. His mouth barely skims mine and he’s grinning like a fiend. I’m left…wanting.

Damn him.

“Tell me I’m right,” he taunts. “Tell me they’d get caught.”

“Ugh.” I jerk my head away. “No! You’re not allowed to critique the storyline and point out the inaccuracies the whole time. It’s a TV show—just go with it.”

He leans back, as if deeply insulted. “Pfft. I don’t do that.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you kidding?”

He laughs and makes a move to roll off me, but I grip his shoulders and force him to stop.

“Um, excuse me—aren’t you forgetting something?”

I pucker up and he rewards me with a heart-shattering kiss. Only after we’ve broken apart and I’m catching my breath does he think to ask, “By the way, I’ve been wondering—what would my Grey’s Anatomy nickname be?”

“You already have one, remember? You’re my very own Hotshot Doc.”

He frowns. “But there has to be a ‘Mc’ in front of it.”

“Okay then, how about Dr. McGivesHisPregnantWifeFootRubs?”

“Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

“Okay…Dr. McPassesThePopcorn?”

“You see how that doesn’t work, right? It has to be pithy.”

I tap my chin. “Oh okay, yeah. I’ve got one now. Hear me out.”

“All right.”

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

“Dr. Mc…”

After a long pause, he finally asks, “You don’t have one do you?”

“The good ones are already taken!”

He laughs and tugs me closer. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s just stick with Hotshot.”





I hope you enjoyed getting to know Bailey and Matt! If you love enemies-to-lovers, doctors behaving badly, and hilarious moments, keep reading for an extended excerpt of my #1 bestselling romantic comedy ANYTHING YOU CAN DO.





SYNOPSIS




Lucas Thatcher has always been my enemy.



It’s been a decade since I’ve seen him, but our years on opposite coasts were less of a lasting peace and more of a temporary cease-fire. Now that we’re both back in our small town, I know Lucas expects the same old war, but I’ve changed since high school—and from the looks of it, so has he.



The arrogant boy who was my teenage rival is now a chiseled doctor armed with intimidating good looks. He is Lucas Thatcher 2.0, the new and improved version I’ll be competing with in the workplace instead of the schoolyard.



I’m not worried; I’m a doctor now too, board-certified and sexy in a white coat. It almost feels like winning will be too easy—until Lucas unveils a tactic neither of us has ever used before: sexual warfare.



The day he pushes me up against the wall and presses his lips to mine, I can’t help but wonder if he’s filling me with passion or poison. Every fleeting touch is perfect torture. With every stolen kiss, my walls crumble a little more. After all this time, Lucas knows exactly how to strip me of my defenses, but I’m in no hurry to surrender.



Knowing thy enemy has never felt so good.





Chapter One





I can’t believe I’m here, back after so many years away. In all that time, I liked to imagine what this day would feel like, the day I returned victoriously to Hamilton, Texas, with a metaphorical gold medal around my neck. I always dreamed there would be a parade. Confetti, sparklers, cheap candy clipping the soft heads of children. At the very least, I assumed there would be a podium for me to stand on. I’m hopeful. Maybe in the time it has taken me to get ready, my mom has dragged one out of the hall closet.

I hear them all downstairs waiting for me. I am the guest of honor, the subject of the WELCOME HOME, DR. BELL sign taped over the fireplace. The party started an hour ago, and my mom has come up to check on me twice since then. Concerned. The first time I was spread out on my bed, prone, in a bathrobe I hadn’t worn since high school.

“Better cinch that belt before you come down, Daisy. Your privates are trying to go public.”

The second time, I was dressed, standing at my window and staring triumphantly at the two-story house next door. His house.