Irresistibly Wild: A Single Dad Forbidden Romance (Irresistibly Yours Book 3), page 1
IRRESISTIBLY WILD
J. SAMAN
Copyright © 2023 by Julie Finkle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue 1
Irresistibly Risky
Doctor Scandalous
End of Book Note
1
“It’s like something out of a horror film out there,” the hostess says to me as I step inside the restaurant, shaking excess rainwater from my hair and shirt. Another flash of lightning streaks across the sky immediately followed by a loud crack of thunder. She jumps, stifling her loud gasp with her hand. “Sorry,” she apologizes, her face flushing in embarrassment. “I hate thunderstorms.”
The lights flicker and she tenses. So do half the people sitting at their tables and in the bar.
Today has been an epically shitful day and this thunderstorm is the coup de grâce.
“Any chance at a table for one?” I ask.
“Your usual table is taken, Dr. Barrows. Are you okay with one more in the center of the room?”
She gives me a contrite smile and all I can do is sigh and nod. A table in the open isn’t my favorite thing and if I had the buffer of my friends with me, I wouldn’t care so much—they garner far more attention than I ever do—but right now, all I want is my favorite sushi, a couple of glasses of something alcoholic, and a quiet moment to sort through my thoughts.
With any hope, I won’t be recognized, but that’s not how this day seems to be going for me so far.
“Thank you,” I say as I take my menu that I don’t particularly require and sit down, dropping my napkin onto my lap. The hostess walks off and immediately my water glass is filled by a busboy just as the lights flicker again. Thunder rumbles loud and aggressively enough to be heard over the din of Friday night diners who were brave enough to say fuck you to the storm.
That’s not what I am.
I’m a man on the edge of his sanity.
I wasn’t in any state to be around my friends who offered to come and join me or have me over for dinner, or even to go home alone and drown myself in a bottle of bourbon. Today is not just an insane summer storm. Today is also the summer solstice and with it, I desperately tried to save a group of doomsday cultists who took a crap load of cyanide before feeding it to their children.
Out of all fifteen who came through my emergency room doors, I was able to save two children who are now up in the ICU fighting for their lives.
As if that wasn’t tragic or disturbing enough, I received a call that my Harvard Medical School mentor dropped dead today. It was a standing joke that Dr. Lawrence would die in his classroom and that’s exactly what he did. He’s the reason I got into Harvard, as he was my neighbor growing up. One of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor in the first place.
Even when I was off touring the world with my best friends as the drummer for our band, Central Square, my dream was to become a doctor, not a rockstar.
But his death came with a huge request from the medical school administration. One I can’t say no to because I feel as though I owe Dr. Lawrence. The last thing I ever wanted to do was teach medical school, but now it looks as though that’s happening. Starting on Monday.
So yeah, crappy fucking day.
My eyes scroll along the menu just as movement captures my attention along with the scent of something sweet. Cherries and almonds. My gaze climbs up my menu, latching onto a pair of vibrant blue eyes that appear a little manic.
“Hi. Are you sitting here alone?”
“Pardon?” I blink at her.
She puffs out an exasperated breath, her long golden-blonde bangs flying up along with it. “Sorry. Dumb question, as clearly, you’re alone at the present time. What I’m asking is are you alone, alone? As in dining solo? As in not expecting a friend or lover or significant other or date to arrive in the next few minutes?”
“Why?” I hedge because she wouldn’t be the first pretty woman to approach me after recognizing me.
She shifts her weight to her right foot as her head flies over her shoulder, catches on something that makes her grimace, and then she turns back to me. “No time to explain. Just play along and I’ll pay for your dinner as a thank-you.”
“What?” My eyebrows scrunch together. The pretty thing isn’t making a whole lot of sense, and I’m in no mood to decipher whatever the hell she’s trying to say.
“You’re all about the one-word answers and I like that in a man since I talk enough for everyone, but if you could just smile and pretend you adore me, that would be—”
“There you are,” a guy says, half-out of breath as if he’s just sprinted here. “Why did you leave? Our food just arrived.”
The blonde gives him a withering glare. “I never ordered any food with you.”
“Yes, you did. I sat down and we started talking. I ordered you another drink and a round of appetizers.”
“Um. No. That’s not what happened at all.”
“Sure, it is,” the guy protests, moving in closer to her.
The woman’s hands fly out protectively, stopping him. “Uh, not so much there, Sweaty Joe. I was having a drink and you started talking to me. I told you I was here to meet someone using the universally polite way to blow someone off, but you decided to order me a drink even though I declined it and then a round of appetizers.”
He shakes his head, growing agitated. “No. You told me the person you were meeting wasn’t here yet. I took that to mean he stood you up and his loss was going to be my gain.”
She pans her hand in my direction. “Well, here he is so you can go back to the bar now.”
“Uh-uh. I bought you a drink and food. That entitles me to something.”
“Entitles you to something?” The woman is incredulous and frankly, so am I.
“Yes. I don’t buy drinks and food for every woman. It’s called quid pro quo, honey, and I expect something in return for my generosity.” He looks her up and down lasciviously. “Besides, you wanted me. I could tell. You were flirting back.”
The woman’s face flushes with rage as if she’s about to eviscerate him right here in the middle of the restaurant. “You’re crazy! I was definitely not—”
I stand, having seen enough. “She was not flirting with you because she’s here to meet me.” I walk over to her and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side. Maybe that’s a bold move and maybe it isn’t, but my protective instincts are firing on all cylinders, and I don’t want this guy near her. She comes easily enough, so I don’t overthink it.
The guy’s dark eyes swirl, almost looping in opposite directions. He’s short. Stalky. Sweaty. And his pupils are blown out. He’s on something and my guess is cocaine judging by the white powder crusted beneath his nostril.
He ignores me completely in favor of her. “Forget this asshole. Come back to the bar with me and have the drink I bought you.”
“She told you no, and now I’m telling you to fuck. Off.”
“Listen, man. I don’t know what—”
I remove my hand from her waist and get right up in his face, no longer caring if we’re making a scene and people are watching us. I grip him by his shirt and haul him up until he’s forced to stand on his tiptoes. “When a woman says no, or that she’s not interested, or asks you to back off, you listen. It’s not a negotiation. Get out of here before I change my mind about rearranging your face.” I give him a small shove, making him stumble into an empty chair, then I tug the woman back into my side. “She’s mine.”
He glances around the restaurant, noting all the curious eyes on him, and then he straightens himself. “Whatever. Trashy bitch wasn’t worth it anyway.”
He stalks off, back toward the bar, only to be intercepted by the manager before he can get there. Frank meets my eyes, and I give him a nod. They’ll kick him out and he’ll never be allowed back in here again.
I release her immediately and retake my seat, running my hand through my slightly too-long-on-top hair.
“Wow. That was not what I was expecting at all.” She takes the seat opposite me and reaches for my water, downing half of it. I watch, slig htly amused by that.
She’s a firecracker.
She blows out a heavy breath as she sets my glass down and wipes at her lips. “Can you believe him?” She pans her hand in the direction he went. “The guy was so pushy at the bar and normally I would have tossed the drink he bought me in his face and told him where he could stick the food he ordered, but it hasn’t been my best day, and I was a bit flustered.” She softens, her eyes meeting mine. “Thank you for coming to my rescue like that. I’m obviously not meeting anyone here tonight. I figured once he saw you that would be that, but I guess one should never underestimate the power of cocaine and the madness it breeds.”
She sits up straight, folding her forearms on the table, settling in like she has no plans to go anywhere else, and for the first time, I get a good look at her. I know how incredible her body feels against mine and I know how delicious she smells, but seeing her up close like this is a sucker punch I’m not prepared for.
Huge doe-like blue eyes, lighter and more luminescent than mine. Oval face framed by long, flowy blonde hair, the color of honeycomb. A petite nose that turns up slightly on the end and boasts a tiny diamond stud on the right side and full, pillowy pink lips.
She looks like a young Scarlett Johansen.
Fucking hot—and definitely sexy—even though she’s not wearing anything all that sexy. Just a plain black crop T-shirt that hits her waist and ripped baggy jeans.
“Anyway.” She clears her throat a little self-consciously and I realize it’s because I haven’t said anything yet. I’ve been too mesmerized by her face. “Thanks again. Your dinner is most definitely on me.”
She moves to stand, and I reach out, circling her wrist with my hand to stop her. I didn’t even do it consciously, but that small point of contact warms my hand and makes my skin buzz.
“Or you could stay and join me,” I offer, not even sure that’s what I want. I wanted to be alone, but I also can’t deny that I want to talk to her more if for no other reason than it affords me the opportunity to look at her. “I haven’t had my best day either, so I’m not sure what sort of company I’ll be, but after that guy, I’d rather not send you back to the bar by yourself or even out in the storm alone.”
She licks her lips, the hint of a barbell in her tongue peeking out as she does, and then after a moment of deliberation, she sits back down. I remove my hand from her skin.
“Today sucked,” she starts without any preamble. “All I wanted was to eat some sushi, have a big, fat drink, and unwind my mind, and then that asshole came in and killed all my chill.”
A smirk hits my lips, and I can safely say it’s the first smile I’ve had all day. “Well, I was in the same boat until some beautiful, crazy woman came over and asked me to be her fake date.”
“Actually, I prefer crazy beautiful. It’s all in the phrasing, don’t you find?” She rests her chin on her hands. “And I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Asking to be someone’s fake date sounds like the start of a great night to me.”
I lean forward, angling my head. “You think so?” I challenge, my smirk growing into a devilish grin because I can’t drag myself away from the way her blue eyes heat and sparkle. We went from strained and a bit tense and awkward to fun and flirty in a nanosecond, and I’m digging the hell out of it.
Maybe this is what I needed to drag me out of today. Her.
“I think we’ll find out after we order.” She bobs her head to the left, indicating our waiter who now stands over us. “But I’ll tell you this, choose our sushi wisely or this thing is over before it even begins.”
“Who says I want it to begin?”
A coy smile curls up the corner of her lips as she rims the empty wine glass of her place setting with the tip of her finger. “Oh, I think we both know you do.” She sits back and waves a hand toward me. “Order away. I’m into everything.”
Hell.
I order us a massive boat of several different kinds of sushi, some edamame, and then I pause. “Gyoza?” I pose to her.
“Pork and pan-fried?” she counters.
I give her a look. “Is there any other kind?”
“Not for me there isn’t.”
I look back up at the waiter. “We’ll have an order of that and two doubles of Don Julio 1942. One large ice cube in each, and keep those coming, please.”
The waiter leaves and my pretty companion wiggles in her seat and then drops her elbows onto the table. “Tequila?”
“You’ve never had it with sushi?”
She shakes her head.
“I hate sake.”
“Same. But I usually go with white wine instead.”
“Then tonight, it seems, you’re living a bit on the wild side.”
The lights flicker once again as a massive rumble of thunder shakes the restaurant, making our empty place settings and water glasses rattle. It doesn’t appear to bother her in the slightest.
She runs a delicate manicured finger along her chin, her nails black and shiny. “You should be warned, that’s not just tonight. I always live my life a bit on the wild side if I can help it, and I promise that’s not an exaggeration. I’m a lot. Just ask the last guy who fell in love with me after I warned him not to.”
Something darkens her features at that, but I don’t bother exploring it.
“Hmmm.” I tap my lip, my gaze dancing about her face. “I can tell you’re younger than me. He was a boy, right?” I shrug indifferently. “I’m not worried about it.”
But even as I say the words, something odd hits me. A twinge. A warning. Like I’m calling myself a liar, which is ridiculous.
She studies me, liking this game we’re playing just as much as I am. Not only is she beautiful, she’s exciting. Different. Intelligent. Quick-witted. Just sitting here, I have to fight through the pheromones she’s putting off.
I’m helplessly fucking magnetized.
“No,” she says as if she’s come to some conclusion. “I imagine you have the reverse problem. Gorgeous. A bit mysterious. Not afraid to dine alone, threaten a man, and call a woman you’ve never met before yours.” She’s delighting in this now, giving me a long once over, sticking on my chest and arms, before dragging her gaze back up to my face. “Oh yes. I can see it all now. You have women falling at your feet. Am I right?”
“You don’t expect me to answer that do you?”
She laughs, the sound light and sweet like spun sugar. “Definitely not. It was one hundred percent rhetorical since I already know the answer is yes.” She laces her fingers together and rests her chin on them once more. “So tell me, stranger, are you a one-night-only sort of guy?”
“Depends. Are you a one-night-only sort of girl?”
“I am now,” she declares with a scrunch of her nose that makes the tiny stud glint against the light. “Who has time for love and relationships?”
Unfortunately, not me. At least that’s how it’s been since I started med school, and before that, it was random groupies after random shows we played. I was eighteen when Central Square started touring and twenty-two when we fell apart. But now that two of my best friends have found love and are happy and I’m in my thirties, I can’t help but start to want that for myself.
But that’s for another night, and certainly not with this woman.
“What’s your name?” Because I swear, she’s familiar even if I can’t place her. Could be from the emergency department with the number of people I see coming in and out of there.
“Are we doing names?”
I laugh. “I didn’t realize we weren’t.”
“We weren’t, but now I’m curious. I’m Layla. No last name.”
“I’m Callan. Also no last name.”
She squints at me, and I regret pressing the whole names thing. People in Boston know me as Callan Barrows from the band Central Square. We were one of the biggest pop/rock bands of our time until our manager, Suzie, dropped dead of a stroke in the shower at the age of twenty-two. We were five guys—plus Suzie—who all grew up in Central Square, Cambridge, and Suzie was the girlfriend of Zax, our bassist, and the twin sister of Lenox, our pianist.
