Page 3 of Getting Off

Lucas Fox had attended so many cocktail parties, charity events, and fundraisers that he could probably do them in his sleep by now. There was an air of sameness to them once the glitz and the glamour wore off.

This hospital benefit was nothing new. It was yet another cocktail party hosted on the Las Vegas Country Club’s Grand Terrace.

The place was as fancy and posh as one would expect.

High ceilings. Chandeliers. Huge windows.

Fancy decor. But he’d heard a thousand string quartets in his life.

He’d eaten metric tons of hors d’oeuvres.

He’d had enough small talk and chit chat about the stock market, boats, golf, or horse racing to last him the rest of his time on the planet.

He’d given away a fortune to good causes, and would probably give away another fortune before he died.

Right now, he was holding a glass of champagne and listening to a politician try to coax him into a campaign contribution. He was barely listening to the man. The truth was far simpler. He was looking around for Doctor Brooklyn Foster. She was the main reason he’d come here tonight.

He didn’t see her yet. That was a problem. He was used to getting what he wanted, and he wanted to talk with her without Gibson, the unctuous chief of staff, around to get in the way.

Lucas almost hadn’t come at all. After a second reminder from Courtney, one of his personal assistants, he’d pondered whether to have her send his regrets.

He’d had work to do and hadn’t been in the mood for a bunch of hospital administrators and healthcare professionals doting on him as if he were royalty, all while hoping to score another few million in donations.

He didn’t mind giving to good causes, though. He actually enjoyed it. He felt like he was making a difference in the world by supporting people who were actually making a difference.

Like Doctor Brooklyn Foster.

Ever since he’d seen her earlier in the week, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. She kept popping into his mind at the oddest times, distracting him.

He recognized drive and determination when he saw it. She had it in spades. He could look in her eyes and see her dedication to her field. She would be a strong contender for the brain trauma center they were fundraising to build.

So why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He had plenty of beautiful women and even a few men throwing themselves at him throughout his life. No, it wasn’t beauty that held his attention for long.

If anything, she struck him as a bit cold, a little aloof. She had clearly tried to do the PR, schmoozing game when he’d last seen her at the hospital, but she wasn’t very good at it. Strangely enough, he liked that she wasn’t good at it.

Still, it annoyed him that he seemed to be so caught on her lately.

What kind of fool married a doctor? They were never around, working long hours that rivaled his back when he’d been making his first million.

They came home exhausted. Probably too exhausted for sex.

That might be a pretty damn selfish thought, but if you were going to marry someone, you needed to be on the same page when it came to intimacy.

Of course, he was only guessing about all of that. Maybe all kinds of hot sex went on at the hospital behind closed doors, like a kinky soap opera filled with gorgeous doctors and staff.

But he seriously doubted it.

Outside the country club, the sky was just beginning to turn from brilliant blue to twilight purple. Soon the fiery sunset colors would spread across the sky. Desert sunsets couldn’t be beaten. He’d been around the world and the only thing that came close was an ocean sunset.

“—and that’s why I’ll be running for Congress,” the man next to him was saying. “I hope my campaign can count on your support, Mr. Fox.”

“Hmm? Oh. I’m sure I’ll support someone.” He smiled and nodded and strode toward the food, not wanting to reveal that he hadn’t heard a word the politician had said. He was certain he hadn’t missed much. In his cynical opinion, politicians were all the same, no matter what party they belonged to.

As he walked, he smiled and shook hands and hid the fact that he was still searching for Dr. Foster. Brooklyn Foster was supposed to be here tonight. It was the primary reason he’d chosen to attend instead of simply sending a check. Not finding her was starting to irritate him.

Two of his personal assistants had been fussing over him earlier before this event.

Adam had chastised him mildly for not having a date.

For not being true to the wealthy playboy image that kept his face in the media.

Meanwhile, Courtney kept encouraging him, also mildly, to find a nice girl and settle down.

Even though Courtney was twenty-five, she sounded like a grandmother sometimes.

He didn’t know what his two protective personal assistants would say if he told them he was on the hunt for Dr. Brooklyn Foster, a woman who always stared at him as if he’d just farted in her presence.

He couldn’t tell if she hated him because he was rich, or if she hated him because of that damned playboy image.

Lucas ran a hand through his black hair, growing more annoyed and trying to hide it.

Maybe she hated him because she believed his life amounted to nothing more than a rich man throwing his money at problems. It was hard to deny that accusation if that’s how she felt.

He wouldn’t apologize for being successful.

Money solved problems. It was as simple as that.

Look at him. He had a condo in the most prestigious area of the city boasting excellent views of the strip.

His closet was packed with custom-tailored clothing he’d purchased after sailing to Italy for exactly that reason.

He drove a Bugatti. He rode in a limo when he wished.

He owned a yacht. He owned a private jet and homes in Aspen and Florida.

It was a life of luxury that would’ve made anyone happy.

Except that for all of Lucas’s luxury living, he was still absolutely alone.

No matter how many dates he went on with eligible young women, he could not imagine settling down with anyone he’d met.

They were nice enough, pretty, talented, many of them charming and intelligent.

But none of them had managed to steal his heart.

Lucas took another glass of champagne, greeted a few people he knew in passing, and drifted toward the main ballroom, wondering if he was his own worst enemy. At least when it came to love.

He valued hard work and dedication. He wanted someone who understood that drive and had it themselves.

He didn’t care if it turned out to be a woman or a man.

He was simply searching for someone who could respect and enjoy dedication to their work and yet cut loose and have fun when the time was right.

Lucas seriously doubted Dr. Brooklyn Foster was that woman.

But either way, she had gotten under his skin, for better or for worse. Especially earlier in the week, when she hadn’t given a damn that he’d defended her to Gibson, the chief of staff at the hospital. She wanted the top slot, so she should at least appreciate a good word from him. But she hadn’t.

Dr. Foster was abysmal at networking. That much was very clear. He had no patience for incompetence. If she couldn’t do what it took to win the director position for the trauma center, then he wouldn’t be pulling any strings for her.

Then again, he would see what he had to see tonight, wouldn’t he? If she ever showed up.

And then he finally spotted her. She was lingering in the ballroom toward the far wall, clutching a champagne flute and looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world but here.

A slow smile spread across his face. She looked surprisingly good in a dress.

It was a black cocktail dress, so she wasn’t exactly taking a risk there, but the dress complimented her lithe frame.

She had an elegant body, slender and smooth, with her blonde hair done up in a French braid and a simple gold necklace around her graceful neck.

Small breasts, a narrow waist, but long legs in heels. He’d always been a leg man.

He took a big sip of champagne and decided to watch her for a little while before moving in. She clearly didn’t want to be here, but would she adapt and succeed? Or would she let him get away without charming a nice, fat donation out of him for her hospital?

Tonight was going to be interesting.

Brooklyn hated parties. Or at least she hated these kinds of parties. They were pretentious and completely not fun. No matter how much she smiled and nodded and did her best to mingle, she simply couldn’t feel natural and at ease.

This was the worst part about the politics of hospitals.

She smiled and nodded and asked the polite questions that were expected at these kinds of events.

The chief of staff considered this as much a part of her work as making a diagnosis and coming up with treatment plans.

She preferred research, healing people, and making a difference in the lives of her patients.

But Dr. Gibson believed strategic schmoozing was vital to hospital funding, and Brooklyn was absolutely determined to master this art to the best of her abilities.

She had to if she wanted to be chosen to run the new trauma center.

A friend of hers had once jokingly suggested that Brooklyn’s brain was defective when it came to loathing these kinds of social situations. She knew that wasn’t the case. She had studied scans of her own brain. She would know if there were any problems. This was just how she was wired.