Free Tempted in the Tropics by Tracy March Page A

drivers whipping their pickups around the hairpin turns on the mountain roads with a bunch of St. Lucians chilling in the back as if they weren’t in danger of getting tossed out on their heads.
    “Ever thought about starting a practice here?” she asked Lane. “Looks like you’d have a lot of patients. Who knows how many people get thrown out of those trucks every day. And people drive like nuts.” She swerved to avoid an oncoming car that had veered onto their side of the road.
    Lane jerked his head toward the passenger window, no doubt checking out the steep drop-off they’d be tumbling down if Paige had overcorrected. “You’re a regular Danica Patrick.”
    She wished she could see his expression, but she could be risking their lives with just a glance.
    He reached over, pinched a lock of her ponytail between his fingers, smoothed it down to the end, and tugged gently. Shocked by his bold move, Paige’s insides fluttered as she struggled to concentrate on the road.
    “What happened to the pink stripe?” he asked.
    “I had to ditch it for the wedding. It would’ve totally clashed with my Orioles orange bridesmaid dress.”
    “Orange?” He sounded as if he liked the idea about as much as Paige did—even less than not at all.
    “You know the Sutherlands and their ties to the Orioles. Most of Liza’s and Sylvia’s clothes are black or orange…or both. Since the Nats won the World Series, Cole told Liza she could have the Orioles colors for their wedding.”
    “Pretty generous of him, considering.” Lane shook his head. “Black and orange. They should’ve just waited for Halloween.”
    “For real.”
    Had they just agreed on something? Surely this couldn’t last.
    “I’m all for making my BFF’s wedding day perfect,” she said, “but orange is definitely not my color.”
    “But the pink stripe in your hair was really working for you.”
    Her stomach fluttered. “It was?”
    “You sound surprised.”
    Paige debated—for once—whether to say what she was thinking. But then she figured there was no reason to change who she was for him. “I didn’t get the idea you thought anything about me was working.”
    They were on a short straightaway, so she risked a glance at him, catching him with his eyebrows raised and his kissable lips slightly parted. “Then maybe I gave you the wrong idea.”

Chapter Eight
    “I thought this was a drive-in volcano,” Lane said as soon as they pulled into the parking lot at Sulphur Springs.
    Paige whipped the SUV into the first available spot and cut the engine. “Not exactly, but that’s what they call it. From what I could tell when I researched it, we have to walk up to an overlook to behold the geological wonder of it all.”
    Lane scrunched his nose at the first whiff of sulfur. “But we don’t have to go far to smell it.”
    Paige crinkled her nose, too. “We’ll get used to it, won’t we? People always come into Sweet Bee’s and say how awesome it smells, but I don’t even notice anymore.”
    “It’s called sensory adaptation.”
    She lowered her eyebrows, a shallow crease forming between them. “I shoulda figured there was some doctor lingo for it.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Well, let’s go so we can hurry up and adapt.”
    Lane got out of the SUV, jogged around, and opened the door for Paige. He’d been raised to be a gentleman—and, whether they got along with each other or not, he didn’t want to miss seeing her getting out of the SUV in those short shorts. Okay, not very gentlemanly, but beneath his doctor persona, he was a normal red-blooded guy. And any normal, red-blooded guy would be crazy to miss that show.
    He watched Paige as she stepped down, hoping his sunglasses would keep her from catching his gaze lingering where it shouldn’t.
    “Let’s go see this volcano that you’re all worked up about.”
    “Who’s all worked up?” she asked as they headed to buy their tickets.
    “You are. You said you