Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Sheesh. As if there's any confusion there.

Have fun reading...a few lemons in this chapter *sexy swagger inserted here* ...still holding out for the real full blown major watermelon size lemons to come.

My amazing goddess of a woman Beta is Danell.

Show me some love peoples!! You'll buy less time in Purgatory, I promise.

Chapter Three

Suddenly, I felt him behind me. Not his actual body, but his heat, and his eyes. I could feel his eyes boring a hole into the back of my head. I hung my stethoscope up in the locker and began to maneuver my delicate cream Gap sweater in my hands so I could pull it over my head. Then his breath was on my neck. Startled, I dropped the sweater, and as he crashed into me softly, I reached out to stop myself, grasping onto the locker sides. The cold metal dug into my hands, not cutting, but painfully reminding me of the predicament I was in. His hands were on my hips. Damn 26" hips. Then, slowly, I felt them drag up my bare sides and over my bra silk. I shuddered. What they hell was going on here? I started to turn, but he stayed me. One hand went up to my shoulder, the other up to grasp my right wrist where it kept my hand clinging to the locker. His pelvis pushed flush behind me, his left foot and knee wedged behind mine. With his left hand, from my shoulder, he traced over from the right side of my neck to the left; flipping my long, thick tendrils over to my chest and out of his way.

"What are you doing?" I gasped. Barely able to form a complete sentence, my head felt foggy. Am I having an absence seizure? His breath was now on my left shoulder and neck. He was practically panting. Is HE having an absence seizure?

And then, I felt a jolt of electricity. Something electrocuted me in the exact spot his breath had been and began searing flames up and down my sternocleidomastoid muscle of my neck.

This is no time for medical terminology! I felt faint and my knees went weak. He chuckled and held me up.

He's laughing at you.

I spun around, using all my strength to break his hold and then he immediately had me again. I was furious. His eyes were amused, and twinkling, and...lustful? No, that's called disgust. Apparently, he's desperate and chose you to toy with.

"Look, Mr. Cullen," I blundered, immediately wishing I wasn't so flustered.

"Ah ha!" His eyes glistened, overflowing with mischief. "You DO know who I am!" You're a retard in a monkey suit. HOT retard in a monkey suit.

"Do I get a cookie??? A prize??" I spit out angrily, aware that I sounded extremely lame. Suddenly, his stance changed and he was pressed even closer to me. My breasts heaved and I felt my limbs getting shaky again as he leaned over and placed another kiss, this time on my clavicle, softly to my skin. I shuddered uncontrollably. What was wrong with me? I felt dizzy, my head slammed back into the neighboring locker with a crash, but I didn't even feel it. His lips continued their travail across my upper chest, and then he turned his head and began feathering soft kisses up my neck. Barely a whisper of pressure, and yet I felt like I was being murdered.

"But what a way to go!" my mind yelled and did a handstand enthusiastically.

His hands were no longer restraining me. His body was flush up against mine, both palms had moved to my shoulders for balance and my arms bent up wards, my hands lightly holding his elbows. I couldn't remember where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. All I was aware of was his mouth on my jaw, nibbling its way slowly to my ear and back towards my chin.

Must remember my name, his name...pull his hair? What?

With no further warning, I needed MORE of a warning?, his mouth was on mine. Only for an instant was it the gentle torture that had been ceremoniously covering my chest and shoulders, neck and jaw. Suddenly, his mouth became that of a starving man, hungry for whatever it could devour. My lips burned and ached as his moved over mine, furtively plying and requesting admittance. Unaware of myself, my lips opened and he plunged his tongue inside. When my tongue met his and the burning continued, he pulled it toward him with his lips. I felt as though I might lose it, but couldn't remember what 'it' was. I didn't know where this was leading, I couldn't feel enough rationally to care.

My arms shot up and around his neck, elbows resting on his shoulders and arms twisting around to entwine my hands in his....damn that hat and sweatshirt hood. I pulled desperately, throwing the toque to the ground and pulling the hood backwards until...my hands found their goal. He leaned into me and pulled me further into him, my legs instinctively rising and wrapping around his waist as he ground me into the lockers. My meager layer of scrub pants allowed full feeling of his...desire? I needed to find reality again, but didn't even know where to look.

"Isabella," he moaned into my mouth, his hands sweeping around behind my back at my bra clasp. There. There it was. Reality is a bitch.

"Stop," I groaned, trying to pull my mouth away but not making much of an effort. "Stop." I pulled his hair backwards, breaking the spell when his mouth released mine. I pushed against his chest and clambered down off his torso. His eyes sought mine out incredulously, but I was too humiliated to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, moving out of my way as I grasped for my sweater and missed. He leaned over and picked it up, handing it to me gingerly. He didn't even try to avert his eyes this time.

I spun around, putting my back to him once more and tore my sweater over my head before anything else delayed me. As I reached for my jeans and pulled on the tie-string of my scrubs to release them, he turned around as if sensing my embarrassment. I wrapped my scarf around my neck, put on my coat, and chucks, grabbed up the dirty scrubs and tossed them at the chute before he turned around again with questions in his eyes.

"What did you come here for?" I asked him again.

"To see you."

"That's not good enough. Why? You lose a bet?" I was being mean, but I didn't care.

"What does that mean?" he answered in aggravation. I had not even noticed he still had the ridiculous mustache on until now. Even when he'd kissed me. How odd. Stay focused! You're angry!

"Does that not translate across the pond? Some of your limey friends heard about the other night, my obvious humiliation and dared you to come back for more? Or did you lose at cards?" I reached into my locker and grabbed my leather bag.

"Not a bit of it," Edward spat angrily. "My limey friends, as you so politically correctly put it are still across the pond and don't know anything about my meeting you the other night. There was something about you, at the market..." There was something in his eyes, something he wasn't telling me.

"I don't know if it was the banana fiasco, or the way you were terrified of me speaking to you...." he broke off, struggling to find what to say.

"Either way, I had to see you again!" he ended emphatically, his fake mustache jiggling now after all the intensity we had put it through moments before. I suppressed a smile. I knew that would only encourage him.

"Well, I don't remember telling you my name or where I worked."

"No, you're correct, you didn't," he nodded, wide eyed, still appearing sketchy. "So, I manipulated a few... things... and found out." When he saw my shocked expression, he continued, "You told me about the accident, I knew there must be something in the news or papers for you to be running from shadows...and you're right, they've been harassing you quite a bit, poor thing."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Not at all! I know what it feels like! Hence the stupid disguise!" he motioned at himself, almost making me lose my composure. "I can't even track down a girl I fancy and show up at her work without worrying about it being on the news!"

He stopped short. He hadn't meant to say that much. I saw a sudden vulnerability in his eyes. I tried to believe him, but I didn't trust men, I didn't trust myself, and I certainly didn't trust celebrities. Although, two of my best friends were celebrities. And my ex-fiancé sort of ran in that crowd as well. Oh, that is a glowing recommendation for whom to trust.

"I have to go. I'm late for dinner," I muttered and began to brush past him, picking up his cap and handing it to him in embarrassment. I heard someone enter the doctor's lounge door and flashed my eyes to his in panic. I pulled his hood up over his head as he crammed the toque cap down on top of it. I straightened and pressed his moustache to affix it, aware that his eyes were burning into me again as our skin made contact.

"Hey, Bella!" Mike Newton, one of the ER doctors, strode in casually and over to his locker. Obviously about to change and leave for the night, he cast a look at me and then slowly eyed my strangely clad friend.

"Hi, Mike," I nodded, turning my clownish companion toward the door. "Bye, then, have a good night," I called to my coworker.

"You going out? I was thinking of going to have a drink," Mike answered, turning back to his locker.

"I have plans," I answered, having been stopped at the door and feeling a pair of eyes searing into me.

"Oh, really? What kind? Maybe I could tag along," Mike had accompanied me around before with various groups of people, so I don't know why it felt so odd for him to invite himself now.

"Oh, well," I hemmed. I didn't know what to say. I really did have plans, and it shouldn't matter if Mike came along since it was an odd number outing anyway. I was of course, probably to be the only single person there.

"Actually," the man in the silly moustache called out, "We have plans, mate."

I almost fell flat out on the ground. What did he think he was doing? It was going to be hard enough to explain his existence at all in this get up, much less once it moved around the ER circuit that we had a date or something.

"Oh, alright then," Mike looked a little disappointed, which surprised me. He'd never shown a particular interest in me before, not romantically at least.

"And you are?" Mike strode over and stuck out his hand.

"Oh!" I jumped, "Please, forgive me. Um, Mike, um...this is...uh..." I could feel my face getting red.

"Rand," Mr. Moustache stuck his hand into the doctor's, shaking it firmly, "Randle McMurphy." I sucked in a gasp of air sharply.

"McMurphy?" Mike continued shaking his hand, only barely glancing at the moustache, sunglasses and strange attire. "That sounds familiar. You have family around here?"

"No, no, I'm from London," came the clipped reply.

"Okay, then, well it's nice to meet you," Mike answered and moved back to his locker, throwing a "have fun" over his shoulder.

I let "Mr. McMurphy" lead me from the lounge and back down the hall of the ER. We said our goodbyes as we went, to all the amused and confused who tried to stop us, heading out the ambulance bay doors in the direction of, I assume, his car. He had a hold of my hand, not in the inter-twined finger fashion preferred by high schoolers the world over, but the "clasp and pull" you method. I let myself be pulled. I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. I was in shock.

I could hear him prattling on about it being an alias that he used occasionally from a Jack Nicholson film. I vaguely heard him saying something about the name of the movie; that or he was calling me cuckoo. He put me in the passenger seat and shut the door, striding around to the driver's side and getting in, shutting the door, encasing us in the small confined space together. It smelled of new leather. Everything was black, and he hadn't put the keys in the ignition, so somehow the darkness seemed menacing. What the hell was he talking about? He just kept gabbing until he realized I was not responding. I was just sitting there. Dead. Then he stopped and looked at me and he knew what I was obsessing over. His eyes suddenly looked full of...something...fear?

No, I couldn't be right. It was a coincidence. A horrible coincidence. My imagination was run amuck.

"Isabella," he began. Oh, God. His tone. His eyes.

"...Bella," I choked out. What name you'd rather be called is important right now, why?

"Bella, please. Hear me out," he tried again. It was not my imagination!

"Bella, say something," his hand shot across and grabbed my arm, snapping me out of my insanity.

"It...um..." I shook my head as though to dislodge the cobwebs and mothballs. "It was you."

He knew exactly what I meant, confirming my suspicions before he answered. He lowered his eyes a moment and then returned them to mine. He grasped my coat-covered arm again, kneading it, as though trying to get down to skin.

"Yes....wait, let me explain!" he begged as I reached for the door handle.

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I had not waited around to hear anything else. I was more horrified than I was angry. Oh, yes, I was angry, too. But the most prevalent emotion racing through my body seemed to be abject humiliation. The thought that this man, this actor, whom we had all teased and talked about. Flirted with and cajoled; he was actually him. This is making sense to you? My head was spinning. There are people starving in the Sudan woman, get some perspective.

Thank God, he let me exit his car. His protests resounded in my ears, but he had let me go. I shook violently as I put the keys into the ignition of my Rover and cranked it, the motor humming to life like a purr. I sped out of the parking lot, not looking behind me to see where he'd gone. I didn't care. I wanted to crawl under a rock and never resurface. I had worked hard to get where I was. I was an intelligent and not horrible looking woman, who was respected in her community and workplace. Who, until the recent fiasco had managed to keep a clean record and fly under the radar. I was the woman that men admired and respected; not the one they lusted after and got frisky with. Hell, my own fiancé... oh never mind, that will just depress you more.

I needed some time to think this over in my brain, to mull and re-mull so to speak. How on earth could this be happening? This was the stuff of bad fiction, not my life. My life was amazingly normal considering my past. Amazingly boring.

Of course, it took me a record-breaking ten minutes to get to the restaurant where Alice and Jasper were waiting with friends. They had all had their dinner already, which was fine because I planned on drinking mine anyway. I guess I was slightly under-dressed, but I shrugged it off as I sat myself down in the empty seat next to Alice. I had forgot to check the vanity mirror in my car, my make-up surely needed reapplying and my hair was certainly in disarray. Especially after I'd nearly had sex in the lounge. I felt my face growing hot and wondered if I should make a mad dash for the ladies' room.

"What's going on with you?" she cast a worried glance at me, trying to smile to all the people who were greeting me. Most of these were industry people, Warner Bros, specifically. Colleagues of Jazz and Em, and other actors who worked with Rose and Alice. I looked around, thinking for the millionth time I wouldn't be around this sort of lot if I hadn't already been friends with them before their fame. And I thanked whatever God there was that Emmett was not here.

"Oh my God, you finally arrived, you whore!" Rosalie Hale exclaimed as she returned from the bathroom.

Rosalie was my other best friend, although not quite as close as Alice and I. She was a lead on Strangers as well, and was taking her usual stroll through the restaurant to make sure she was seen 'out and about', as she called it. She was unmarried, but played the field avidly. Hell, her field was downtrodden there'd been so much action on it. Her date for tonight looked familiar, he was probably an actor. He watched her attentively, and barely glanced at my face to register that she was speaking to me. He was beautiful, of course.

"God, you look awful!" Rosalie announced as she plopped down in the seat next to me, her face scrutinizing my worry lines. I could just imagine the speech I would receive about my body being a temple and how I wasn't worshiping the goddess, obviously. My goddess was dead and buried.

"Thanks, Rose" I rolled my eyes at her as she kissed each of my cheeks enthusiastically, making a kiss noise myself, and turned back to Alice. "I did just get off working a twelve-hour shift, you know." Thirteen really. Saving lives. Now you'll want a medal.

"What happened to you? You were supposed to be here at eleven," Ali pointed to her cell phone to indicate it was almost midnight.

"I got...detained," I enunciated with a pronounced look in my eyes. Please, Ali, get the hint and let's discuss it later.

"No! You don't mean?" she began—

"Edward Cullen!" Rosalie exclaimed, as though she could read my thoughts, then every head tore around to look in the direction of the doorway to the restaurant.

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Please lovies, toss me some feedback! It might be good for some hot snoggin'...just sayin'. :o)