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nurses 100% of the time,” he barked. “No slacking off on my watch. Not even for two minutes.”
    Joanna glanced at the gray steel clock mounted on the hallway wall. She watched as the second hand finished its rotation, then glanced back at Harlan, her eyes locking with his. “Well, the last two minutes of my shift are up. I don’t see any dying patients in the vicinity, and I also see my shift replacement coming around the corner. So if it will suit you and your out-of-control ego, Dr. Harlan Wilkinson, I will be going now. I have an urgent appointment with my bed.”
    With that tender expression of Carolina hospitality, Joanna turned on her heel and headed back to the locker room without giving Harlan a second glance.
    Four minutes later, Joanna was in the hospital parking garage. As she fumbled the key into the lock of her battered old Honda, she heard the heavy metal door of the stairwell slam shut, followed by the click of hard-soled shoes on asphalt. Momentarily terrified that a serial rapist had somehow followed her out to her car, Joanna froze, unable even to unlock the door to get into the relative safety of her vehicle.
    “Relax,” came a familiar male voice from across the parking structure. “It’s just me, Watson. Believe it or not, my out-of-control ego and I have to sleep too.”
    Joanna’s felt her cheeks color. Was there no escaping this man? She managed to get her car door open and tossed her purse and duffel bag into the passenger seat. She tried to coax her body into the car after them, but her feet had somehow glued themselves to the concrete floor of the parking garage.
    And all at once, her entire lower half went into flames.
    Joanna’s body was ripe and raring to go for another fuck, whether she liked it or not.
    Harlan seemed to pick up on this right away. “So what’s the holdup, Watson?” he chuckled. “If you’re as tired as you say you are, why don’t you just go home?”
    “I—“ was Joanna’s stammering reply. Her mouth went cottony when she caught sight of Harlan’s crotch. Even in the dim, smoky light of the darkened parking garage, Joanna could make out a tent in the man’s pants worthy of a three-ring circus.
    Harlan inched closer. “You know, I’d really like to join you on that urgent appointment you have with your bed,” he said. “I think a nice long stay in your bed would do the both of us a world of good. Unless you’d prefer to get busy right here.”
    Joanna stiffened. She tried once more to get in her car and drive away, and couldn’t. The more she stared at the enormous bulge in Harlan’s crotch, the more she wanted to stay right where she was so he could fuck her with it.
    The whole situation was way out of hand.
    Joanna slapped herself across the face. She had to nip this thing in the bud. She just had to. Joanna was a proper Southern lady. She had manners and decorum. She’d gone to her marriage bed a virgin, after all. What the hell was she doing in a parking garage in the middle of the night, seconds away from letting an arrogant, rude, uncivilized Yankee—not to mention her new boss—screw her brains out up against the side of a car?
    And why the hell was she so damn excited at the prospect?
    She was losing her mind.
    Now Harlan’s body was pressed up against hers. She could feel his arousal, hard and throbbing and insistent against her left thigh. She could smell it, too—that unmistakable coppery, musky, manly scent of sex enveloped her like a fog. “So what’s it gonna be, Watson?” Harlan whispered. “Are we gonna do this thing, or are we just gonna call it a night and go home?”
    “I—I don’t know,” she stammered. And it was true. She was at a total loss. Did she listen to her heaving body and slippery crotch and take the sexual satisfaction that was being served up to her on a platter, or did she do the rational, reasonable thing and get the hell away from there?
    It was pretty hard to listen to reason when her crotch was on