The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date by Louisa George

flare in her eyes that she knew was there. Fire shot to her belly.
    ‘You’re supposed to have your eyes closed.’
    ‘And miss this? No way.’ He shucked off his hoodie and wrapped it over her shoulders. ‘But put this on. If Jaxon wakes up and sees you in that flimsy thing you’ll give him a heart attack on top of his hangover.’
    Ignoring the heat and his smell enveloping her she shrugged the hoodie off and glared at him. ‘I’m going to be under a duvet. What’s he going to see? Besides, not everyone has the same one-track mind as you.’
    ‘Darling, believe me, everyone would be on this track if they saw you in that. That’s some serious lingerie.’
    ‘It’s one of my vices. A hangover from school.’ She climbed under the duvet, her cheeks burning and heart ramping up to overdrive. She had to spend the night with him and somehow survive, so her raging heart could damn well stop raging and go back to slow and steady. Thank you.
    He looked at the deep V of lace-trimmed silk covering her cleavage. ‘No one ever wore anything like that at my boarding school.’
    ‘Clearly you didn’t have unwritten bitch contests to see who had the most money, the most famous parents or on-trend clothes, like at mine.’ She shuddered as she remembered those hideous days, the catfights and false friendships. ‘Petty rivalry even went as far as bed wear.’
    ‘No, no bitch contests and definitely no sexy lingerie at mine.’ She searched his face for the shadows, but clearly he was remembering better school times. His eyes glittered as he laughed. ‘It was all boys for a start.’
    ‘You are such a jerk, Zachary.’ So the man had a zillion different sides and she liked them all. The one that agreed to put his own job on the line to help her, the one who wanted to protect her no matter how much she didn’t need him to. The one who made her laugh. The one who was easy to talk to.
    He was becoming more and more of a problem. His smell, the memory of his taste, his smile, those broad shoulders. That wicked twinkle in his eyes. Not to mention the darned dimple. All taunted her like off-limits treats.
    It was too hard to imagine what life was going to be like beyond the tournament. Beyond this. Could men and women be friends? Just friends? Or did the sex thing always get in the way?
    Right now, as he sidled in opposite her wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and a killer smile, the sex thing was raising its hand screaming, Pick me .
    She drew her eyes away from his hard wall of chest, the defined pecs and smattering of jet-black hair that made him even more man, and found her voice.
    ‘I’ll keep this side light on if you don’t mind. It’ll make it easier to keep an eye on our pal over there. I think I’ll read to keep myself awake.’ She waved her physiotherapy text book at him and opened the chapter on iliotibial band injury management.
    They both jumped as Jaxon snorted, sniffled and groaned. Then settled back to sleep.
    ‘Go for your life. And I hope you don’t make as much noise as him when you’re asleep.’ Zac wriggled under the duvet, his toes reaching up to her thigh. She edged away from him as he folded the pillow under his head and closed his eyes. From this angle she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his dark long eyelashes against his cheek. And felt her blood pound round her body with such force it made her feel dizzy. Just friends? Who was she trying to kid? Just friends was impossible, but more than friends was impossible too.
    Silence stretched across the night. His breathing became rhythmical, doing the off beat to Jaxon’s four-four-time snuffling. She sighed and started to relax.
    ‘Iliotibial band syndrome...’ was not holding her attention.
    Suddenly his foot tapped gently against her leg. ‘Talk to me.’
    ‘Shouldn’t you be sleeping now?’ She tried to squeeze away from him but there was nowhere to go.
    ‘Oh, yes. Forgot. Right.’ He closed his