His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,12

to Bruce, who seems like a nice enough guy. But fuck him. I don’t owe him anything. I owe it to Ally and myself to get to the bottom of this vibe between us once and for all.

I know just how I’m going to do it. And I don’t plan to screw it up.

“So you didn’t mean what you said,” I say pleasantly. “Good to know. That clears everything up.”

“Really?” she says, brightening.

I hesitate.

If only she knew how badly I want her thighs wrapped around my waist and her tongue in my mouth. Right this very second.

“A hundred percent.”

“Good,” she says with a relieved smile. “So…how is your wife?”

“No idea,” I say, maintaining eye contact for the sheer pleasure of watching that smile shrivel up and die as I hit her with my news. “We got divorced last year.”

5

Ally

My phone buzzes right around three the following Wednesday afternoon, just as I’m hurrying across the skywalk from the hospital to the medical arts building. I pull it out and check the display without breaking stride, relieved to discover that it’s my best friend Kelly, with whom I’ve been playing phone tag for the last couple of days. I never know how to feel about breaking events in my life until running things by her, and God knows I need her input now.

It’s been an eventful forty-eight hours. To say the least.

“Hey,” she says when the picture resolves to reveal her sitting behind the wheel of her parked car. She eyeballs my scrubs. “In between surgeries?”

“On my way to a meeting, actually.”

“I’ll talk fast, then. What’s this I hear about Bruce moving to the Big Apple?”

“He says he wants to take things to the next level,” I say, grinning. Even though I’ve had time to get used to the idea by now, I still can’t quite keep the amazement out of my voice. I think it’s because a part of me never believed that I could actually do it—find a guy who likes me enough and thinks I’m special enough to get serious. With all the snakes and losers I’ve dated over the years? All the men who are intimidated by my MD? All the men who think that my MD is cool and all but still expect me to happily suspend my career advancement in favor of theirs? All the men who prefer toned and athletic size sixes? Please. I feel like a baby bird that’s finally hopped out of the nest and discovered that she could fly.

“I told you he was a good guy.” Kelly beams at me with the exact level of enthusiasm you’d expect from a great best friend. “Are you excited?”

I want to say of course I am, but something invisible holds me back.

“Hang on,” she says, her smile fading. “What’s with the face?”

“I think I’m a little shell-shocked,” I confess. “We haven’t been dating all that long. It’s a big step.”

“Yeah, but when you know you know, right? Why waste time? Especially at our age.”

Well, that’s certainly true. I’m pushing thirty-two. While I’m not exactly knocking on death’s door, I’ve learned enough about maternal fertility issues to know that the landscape for getting pregnant changes after thirty-five. That means I may want to start getting my ducks in a row if I hope to have a couple of kids before it’s too late. Which I do.

“You’re right,” I tell her. “But I’m not picking out china patterns and running to the pharmacy for pregnancy tests just yet. Bruce and I are having initial discussions about the possibility of him moving to New York. It may or may not pan out. He needs to get the job first.”

“I’ve got my fingers and bra straps crossed for you,” she says happily. “Just don’t go picking out any bridesmaids dresses with ruffles or lace or I will kill you. Kill. You. Nonnegotiable.”

“Your request is noted,” I say, laughing as I arrive at the waiting area just outside a huge and swanky suite of offices and have a seat. I check out the elegant lettering over the glass double doors:

Jamison & Associates.

Dr. Jamison’s new plastic surgery private practice.

My heart rate kicks up a notch or two.

Or a thousand.

“So what else is going on?” she says.

“Funny you should ask,” I say, dropping my voice even though there’s no one nearby. “Dr. Jamison is back in town. I saw him Saturday night.”

She gives me a blank look. “Who?”

“The Sphinx,” I hiss.

“Oh my God,” she cries, clapping a hand over her mouth. The