What’s a girl to do when she whispers another man’s name in her fiancé’s arms?
When forbidden dreams about the sexy French Dr. Yves Malroux assail her at every turn, Mary-Beth puts her wedding plans on hold. She signs up for a summer training program in surgery with Yves, and flies to France to confront her past and the man who broke her heart years ago.
But she never expected the French doctor--who’s also a count-- to insist on his trainees staying at his historical chateau. Sleeping under his roof, next door to his bedroom, is more temptation than Mary-Beth anticipated. Desire for Yves burns as hot as ever, especially when he focuses all his charm on Mary-Beth to convince her she needs passion in her life. While too many questions still swirled in her mind, her jealous fiancé summons her back home.
Will Mary-Beth let her heart decide who’s her right man? Will Yves break his no-strings-attached rule to offer love and commitment?
Excerpt: Chapter One
Chapter One
“Love you, Yves.” Marie-Beth Drake purred and cuddled deeper against her lover’s broad chest.
Already half-asleep, Steve squeezed her to his side, with a faint “Hmm”. Soon, his light snores filled the air. Sated and relaxed, she stroked his silvery hair. “Love you—”
She froze.
What had she called him?
Oh God, oh God. Had she said Steve or… Yves?
Her fiancé grumbled in his sleep. She immediately yanked her hand away from his head. Her fingers flew to her lips and her stomach somersaulted. She couldn’t have whispered the loathsome name? She’d buried it long ago and forgotten the sexy French doctor and his charismatic smile.
Had Steve noticed the slip of her tongue?
Heart pounding, she studied his closed eyes and slightly gaping mouth. Not to worry. Her fiancé slept as peacefully as a man content with life—as he did every night.
Shivering with mortification, she slid out of his arms. Her throat ached with sudden dryness as she covered herself with a robe and rushed downstairs.
In the living room, she grabbed a bottle of Merlot from the bar, filled a glass and swallowed it, and poured a second one. Her mind in shambles, she settled on the sofa to organize her thoughts.
Hanging over the fireplace, her fiancé’s portrait focused a serious look at her. She blinked. “I don’t know how it happened. Honestly,” she groaned with an apologetic grimace.
Sultry images of the French surgeon obscured her vision. Yves smiling, his knuckles caressing her cheeks, his face reaching closer to hers. She snatched her head back and touched her lips, swollen from Steve’s kisses. And remembered Yves’s passionate embrace. “No, please.” Her world tilted on its axis.
Weary and confused, she emptied her glass. “You’re history. Gone, Dr. Malroux.” To think he’d leftBostonthe next day after the blissful night she’d spent in his arms, and never came back, never called the chubby medical student she’d been then. “No more crazy dreams or heartaches,” she scolded in a strangled groan.
Why did Steve have to mention his name a few days ago and ask her to participate in an exchange program of residents with his French colleague?
“Nope. Not interested,” she’d immediately replied, and Steve hadn’t insisted.
Training with Dr. Yves Malroux would tempt any residents but her. She’d hoped never to set eyes on him again after she’d torn his picture into a hundred pieces.
