Surprise was quickly chased away by suspicion in his eyes. “So you’re stuck on Graham. Damn! I was afraid of that.”

“Yeah,” caught in her throat so she nodded and mad at herself, pursed her lips.

Ben slid a finger under her chin and forced up her face. He deposited a light kiss on her nose. “The dork doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t know what to do with you. For such a brilliant man in the operating room, he’s a moron outside of it.”

She punched him lightly in his upper arm. “Yep. I’m afraid you’re right. But what’s a woman gonna do? I think I’ve already done way too much.”

Ben tweaked her ponytail, and with a rueful grimace, he said, “I will go on, and you will, too. Friends?”

Her heart fluttered a bit, and she cracked a grin. “Yeah. Friends.”

A leer stole over his handsome lips, and he leaned close. “With privileges?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle shove. “Don’t count on it.”

As she worked the kinks out of her shoulders and meandered down the hall, he called after her, “That wasn’t a firm ‘no’, was it?”

Since when had ‘no’ not meant ‘no’? After some heart searching, she wasn’t sure. Ben was a lot of fun, an excellent lover, and would provide a diversion to heartache but was that fair to any of them?

No!

She vowed to stop playing games with love. Ultimately, she was always the biggest loser. She rubbed her tummy. Thank God, she wasn’t pregnant. She’d been an idiot to forget to use protection with Dexter. Deep down, she’d been hoping he’d steal her away and make her all his.

Who was the dork now?

Rather unladylike, she snorted and didn’t give a damn who heard.

Love was for morons, and she also vowed not to be a moron any more.

Dexter had trouble keeping his mind on work and feared he’d make a life and death mistake. That wouldn’t do.

He barged into Amy’s office without an appointment or even knocking first. A huge racing fan, her walls were covered with NASCAR emblems and autographed pictures and model cars lined her shelves.

“I need a vacation. Now.”

Amy scowled and shook her head. “You’re booked up for weeks. You’re not scheduled for vacation for another five months.”

Five months!

He tossed up his hands and paced in front of her desk. “I can’t wait five months. I’m going insane now.”

She narrowed her eyes and punched more keys on her computer, amazingly fast for only using one hand. Each stroke rang out like gunfire and pounded like a bullet into his aching head.

“Is there a family emergency or are you certifiably ill?”

“No.” Unless a broken and battered heart counted.

She arched a pencil-thin brow, and her lips smirked. “Mentally ill?”

“No.” Or was being stuck on a woman who wanted two guys crazy? He couldn’t commit to her if she couldn’t commit to him. Him and Junior didn’t count. There was room for only one set of balls in his bed and that was his.

Hell, he was a mental case. Even dating Simone didn’t help. He just kept comparing her to Charity, and Charity always came out on top.

“Well, I don’t feel as if I can operate safely. Do you really want me in that operating room?”

Amy stood and leaned on her desk. “Need I remind you that your patients are depending on you?”

“Exactly.”

“Suck it up, Graham. Get over the bitch or whatever’s bothering you but no vacation. I have no one to replace you. Get out of my office and back to work.”

On his way out, Dexter muttered under his breath even as he waved and tried to make his “thanks” sound genuine.

He dug his hands deep in his pockets, and his head hung low as he wandered back to his office.

Simone perched on his desk, her silky legs swinging and her short skirt pushed seductively up to the top of her thighs. Her cleavage showed so much he could almost see her nipples. He wondered why the bottle-blonde bothered to dress at all. Did all women think him such a bimbo that they thought they’d attract him with skin? For once, he wished a woman would seduce him with her scathing intellect.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” He tried to keep the sigh out of his voice, but one look at Simone’s disappointed moue told him he’d failed.

Simone pushed off her seat, purring, and sidled up to him. She swept her arm wide to indicate the wine, cheese and crackers spread over his desk. “I bring sustenance. I thought we’d be cosier having lunch in private here instead of that crowded cafeteria. You like?”

He pushed his hair off his face, gave her a wide berth, then sank tiredly into his chair. “Thank you but not today. I’m bone weary and not in the mood.”

She pouted prettily, rounded the desk, and climbed on his lap without invitation. Then she leaned so close his nose was between her boobs and her cloying perfume suffocated him. With hypnotising fingers, she kneaded his shoulders. “I know what my poor baby needs. I’ll get you fixed right up.”

When she nuzzled his neck, he’d had his limit and gruffly said, “Not now, Simone. I just want to be alone.”

She feathered kisses up his throat to his lips, and against them, she murmured, “You don’t mean that, honey pie. Mommy Simone can make you better than new.”

He hated babbling baby talk. When she popped open her shirt and let her breasts swing free, he grunted and shoved her off of him. “Get out and don’t come back. I don’t appreciate this.”

Simone blinked, dazed, as if she couldn’t believe anyone would reject her. “You’re dumping me? You dare?”

He leaned back. “Yes.”

He was ready when she screamed and stomped, but her screeches still made him wince. If he hadn’t been sure before that she wasn’t the woman for him, he was now.

“Please stop embarrassing yourself. It’s not at all appealing.” He poured himself a glass of her bottled water and sipped while he watched her show.

Finally, she stopped ranting and faced him. She slapped him with a resounding sting then fisted her hands to her hips. “Of course, I don’t turn you on. You’re gay. I bet you and Dr. Hunky are getting it on. You’re dirty little secret is blown wide open now.”

He laughed in her face at the absurd hypotheses. “Keep lying to yourself, sweetheart. You’re the only one who’s going to comfort you.”

A knock sounded on the door, a glorious noise to his ears. “Come in.”

Ben stuck his head in, but when his gaze landed on Simone, a blush highlighted his cheeks. “Uh, I see it’s a bad time. I’ll come back later.”

For once, he was happy to see the other man. “No, no. Come right in. Simone and I are finished, and she’s just leaving, aren’t you, Simone?”

Simone jutted out her jaw and huffed off. On her way out, she flung over her shoulder, “Fine! I’m sick of you gay guys leading us on.”

After she left, Ben closed the door and leaned on Dexter’s guest chair. He pointed to Dexter then to himself. “Did you tell her something I should know about? Am I missing something?”

Dex handed a bottled water to Ben. “Nah. She assumes any man who isn’t bowled over by her raging beauty and scintillating personality has to be gay.”

He lifted his glass to Ben in a toast. “Somewhere out there are nice women for us.”

Ben swished his drink and stared into it. Then he cleared his throat.

Dex looked up, and the hand holding his drink hovered midair. “Not that I’m not enjoying this male bonding surprisingly enough, but I get the inkling you have something on your mind. Spill.”

Ben gulped down his drink then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, yeah. You should know Char’s in love with you, not me.”

Dexter reeled. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Charity. She was right up there with Simone for busting his balls. He thought about not answering, but that was childish and a dead give away to how deeply he still ached for her.