Chapter One

There in his drive sat a shiny, little Mustang convertible, fire-engine red, the ragtop down. Perched on the hood was Anne-Marie Kincade. One look at her hit him like a punch right in the solar plexus and all thoughts of Sheri faded away, lost in the fog of need that took over as he stared at Anne-Marie.

Her thick, black hair was falling around her shoulders, shoulders left bare by a simple, white camisole-styled top. Long legs were revealed by a pair of neatly cuffed, black shorts and her small feet were shod in a simple pair of canvas tennis shoes.

She didn't look like a doctor; nope, she looked like a high school coed, too young and too damn innocent. Until she turned her head and met his eyes. The look in those misty, green eyes was pure woman and Jazz could literally feel it as the blood drained out of his head, straight down to his cock.

His breath caught in his chest as her gaze locked with his, a small, mysterious smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Sweet God, how had she grown up to be so beautiful?

A soft breeze fluttered her hair around her face, framing it in dense black. She slid off the car and moved towards him, that mysterious, teasing smile still on her lips. "Hey," she said softly, coming to a stop a few feet away. Cocking her head, she studied him in the fading light. "You had your hair cut."

A soft, illusive scent floated to him on the air and an insane desire to bury his face against her neck seized him. Gruffly, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Her shoulders lifted and fell and she said, "I wanted to talk to you."

"What about?"

"I don't know." She

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