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The great Dr. Julian Kilmartin
     was no doubt used to ordering his minions around all day long. I’d have to either
     choose my battles or be assimilated.
    I picked up my glass of water and took a long drink. Tepid and metallic, not my favorite
     combination. They didn’t do ice in drinks over here, did they?
     A tall, lovely blonde woman in a gray maid’s uniform appeared at Julian’s side bearing
     a wine bottle wrapped in a white cloth. Her nametag said Lili .
    “May I serve you, Dr. Kilmartin?” she asked in thickly accented English.
    “Thank you, Lili.”
    She showed him the label and then poured a sample into his stem glass, waiting for
     his nod of approval before filling all our glasses. Once she left, he took a long
     sip of the white and I followed suit. I wasn’t normally a wine fan but this was delicious—sweet
     and fruity.
    Colin took a long drink from his glass, and the sight of his very masculine throat
     muscles working made me breathless.
    Tearing my gaze away, I turned to Julian. “So tell me about this surgery on the 31 st .”
    He shook his head. “Grisly subjects are best saved until after we’ve finished eating,
     my dear. I’d rather hear about your adventures. Colin tells me you went on holiday
     recently?”
    A quick glance at Colin showed nothing but polite interest. “Yes, I took a dive trip
     to the Turks and Caicos.”
    “I’ve never been, but I’ve seen photographs. It looks lovely.”
    “Lovely doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I told him, warming quickly to the subject.
     “The islands themselves aren’t much to write home about, but the beaches are just
     beautiful. And the diving—oh my God, it’s absolutely amazing. It would take years
     to explore all the hundreds of miles of reefs. Between diving and snorkeling, I spent
     so much time in the water, my fingers and toes were wrinkled the whole week I was
     there.”
    He glanced at the hand holding my wineglass. “You have lovely fingers.”
    A little disconcerted, I took another sip before saying, “Thank you.”
    “I’ve heard the people there are lovely, too,” he said casually, watching my face.
    Suddenly it grew a little difficult to breathe evenly, and despite my efforts to contain
     it, heat spread up my neck. It was ridiculous—the man was just making polite conversation
     and I was reacting like he’d just asked to see a video of my fling with one of the
     hotel bartenders.
    “Definitely,” I stated emphatically. “The service at my hotel was outstanding, and
     everyone seemed like they were genuinely friendly and interested in you rather than
     just schmoozing for a tip. I plan to go back every year, if I can find the time.”
    “Always nice to find friendly staff when you’re on holiday,” he observed. “I never
     cared much for being in underwater myself. Something about the sensory deprivation,
     I think—being unable to hear or see properly, unable to smell anything.”
    “Unable to breathe,” Colin added, rolling the stem of his wineglass between his long
     fingers.
    “That would be a bit of a downer, too, yes,” Julian replied dryly.
    “Which is why we wear scuba gear, Colin,” I said with exaggerated patience, as if
     speaking to a backward schoolboy. Falling back into this kind of interaction with
     him was entirely too easy.
    His grin widened. “Is that so.”
    Lili returned with a loaf of bread, apparently fresh from the oven. As she sliced
     off several fragrant pieces and laid them on our bread plates, my stomach growled
     loudly.
    Julian just laughed when I slapped my hand over it. “For God’s sake, girl, this is
     clearly no time to stand on ceremony. Eat.”
    “Sorry,” I murmured as I tore off a piece of the bread and buttered it, now ten shades
     of red. “I didn’t have any lunch.”
    “Why not?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
    My heart skipped a beat at his tone. Surely he wasn’t really annoyed that I hadn’t
     eaten? “I’m not the best flyer and