CHAPTER ONE

      THE last thing Jessica Donaldson expected to find in her bed on a stinking hot morning was a naked man. And certainly not this particular man—the source of every one of her feverish fantasies for the last three and a bit years.

      Dr Adam Carmichael—occasional housemate, surgeon extraordinaire, playboy incarnate.

      For a moment she wondered if her sleep-deprived brain had conjured him up. Was she that tired after her midnight call-in and subsequent eight hours of surgery she’d actually imagine a man in her bed?

      And not just any man but Adam?

      Wasn’t he operating in some Third World country or schmoozing bigwigs at The Hague? She shut her eyes, shook her head to clear the fog of fatigue and opened them again. Nope. Still there. And still most definitely Adam.

      Jess stood in the doorway, wrapped in nothing but a towel, droplets of water clinging to her undried skin. Suddenly she was very awake. A frigid blast of air from the wall-mounted cooling unit enveloped her, soothing a fiery blush.

      The sheer perfection of his body momentarily distracted her from the fact that he was in her bed.

      Asleep.

      Naked. She’d never had a man in her bed, naked or otherwise, and her breath quickened that the first time it had happened fate had delivered her the man of her dreams.

      Would it be wrong to look her fill?

      Jess prided herself on having a strong moral code. There’d never been a cause to question it before.

       But.

      The morning sunlight poked insistent fingers into the darkened room from around the edges of the blackout blind, illuminating his deep golden tan to perfection.

      And he was in her bed.

      So … she looked her fill.

      Adam lay on his stomach, his sandy blond head turned away from the window. Both arms were spread out, easily reaching the sides. His back was a tantalising palate of planes and angles, broad across the shoulders, tapering down to the dip of his back and the rise of his bottom.

      The floral sheet had been pulled up to his hips. One leg was firmly entangled but the other had freed itself, causing the sheet to slip slightly and partially reveal a glimpse of naked buttock in all its tanned glory. It was firm, well defined, despite his slumber, and, she noted, the same nut brown as the rest of his body.

      He obviously sunbaked naked as well.

      Her gaze continued down his exposed leg. It was firmly muscled and deeply tanned. A covering of blond hairs added to its masculinity and Jess followed its length right down to the toes that stuck out over the end of the bed.

      She drew in a ragged breath. How was it possible to look so masculine amidst floral sheets?

      She knew for a fact he had navy satin sheets on his bed. She’d seen them hanging on the line once. Her dreams had featured an awful lot of satin ever since.

      Adam chose that moment to move and Jess froze like