200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London. Lynne Marshall

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СКАЧАТЬ they said in unison, exchanging surreptitious glances.

      Leo didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press it. “Well, I’ll leave you alone to get acquainted, then. You can talk Dodger dogs and touchdowns, or whatever it is Americans …” His voice trailed off as he headed for the door then turned on his heel. “We’ve got some major cases coming in and we’ll be utilizing your skills and talents right off, Grace. I’ve left the first one on your desk.” He glanced at Mitchell. “And I think you’ll make a great team on the Cumberbatch case, too.” Then he was off.

      The silence grew nearly deafening as Grace stared at Mitch in disbelief, not knowing whether to be happy or regretful that she’d seen him again. What if he was in a serious relationship with someone, and he’d strayed a little last night? How awkward. From the caution in his eyes, Grace settled on the regretful side of the scale.

      “Look,” he said, “I had no idea you were our new surgeon.” He grabbed his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have put things together.”

      “I didn’t offer any information either.”

      “I should have asked, but I got this crazy idea about having a minivacation with Madam X.” He made air quotes with his fingers around the name. “For crying out loud, I apologize.” He looked seriously sorry, too.

      “There’s nothing to apologize for. I had fun. I don’t know about you, but I did, anyway.” She leaned against the edge of her desk.

      “Yes. Of course it was fun. But the thing is, I never would have treated you that way if I’d known you were the new team member.”

      “Then I’m glad you didn’t know.”

      “It’s just bad business on my part. Bad form.” His hands rested on his trim hips. She couldn’t help but notice.

      He wore a starched white shirt and blue Paisley-patterned tie to complement his navy slacks. His knee-length doctor’s coat covered all of his best parts, as she recalled—the wide shoulders and strong arms—arms that had lifted her nearly over the fence without effort.

      “Stop it,” she said. “We did what we did. Now we forget about it and get professional. That’s all. It’s not like we had sex or anything.”

      An impish gleam entered his wonderfully green eyes. Thank goodness he remembered the fun they’d had. “But we’re pod people. Young adventurers. How do we forget that?”

      She couldn’t help it. He’d tried to lighten the mood and successfully made her laugh. Were all women like putty in his hands? “Stop it.”

      She searched for something and ineptly threw a piece of paper from her desk at him. A sorry weapon, it floated nowhere near where he stood. He pretended to dodge it anyway. “But I suppose we’ll always have that.” She fought back the urge to laugh more, liking him for bringing it up.

      He raised and dropped his brows. “Just two peas in a pod.”

      That did it. She sputtered a laugh, and he joined her. “Stop it, I said.”

      He shook his head, looking chagrined. “I broke up with you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. “Do you realize I had the audacity to pick you up in a pod, nearly get you arrested in a public playground, buy you dinner on a barstool, then send you home in a cab, hardly explaining why I could never see you again? I’m an idiot. What in the hell must you think of me?”

      She wanted to say she’d thought about him the rest of the night. She’d thought about him as she’d showered and dressed for work today, too, and the word idiot had never come into the mix. But she knew better.

      They needed to forget their extraordinary night out and move on to reality. They were colleagues now. They’d have to see each other every day, and it was never a good idea to get involved with a coworker, especially in such a small clinic like this. They needed to keep their distance from each other, leave well enough alone. It was so obvious.

      Just because he’d said he was divorced last night, it didn’t mean he was a free man. He probably had half a dozen kids he needed to divide all of his spare time among. But look at that, he was staring at her legs, and since she’d worn a high-waisted pencil skirt, there was plenty of leg to stare at. She crossed her ankles and pretended not to notice.

      He’d sent her home in that cab for a good reason, and there was no point in dredging it up now. “What I think of you doesn’t matter any more because we’re colleagues and I’ve already had my first case assigned to me. From now on we’re strictly business. Okay?”

      It was safe, too, since she’d never shown her scars to a man who wasn’t one of her doctors. Except for her ex-fiancé, and what a disaster that had turned out to be. How could she possibly venture into a relationship with anyone, no matter how well and easily they got along, when no man would ever want her. Boy, she’d certainly jumped ahead…. What was it about Mitchell Cooper that made her want to?

      His tentative expression turned thoughtful. He was obviously working through the steps on how to undo a perfectly wonderful evening with a woman he’d never expected to see again but who was now his office mate, too. “Okay. Makes sense. Strictly business partners. Got it. Probably for the best anyway.”

      She spotted that same look he’d left her with last night, and she’d interpreted it—projected her own feelings into it—as regret. That truly was how she felt, and that’s how life was sometimes—loaded with regret. And secrets best not shared.

      He took her hand and shook again. “Nice to meet you, Grace Turner. If you need any ‘strictly professional’ help, I’ll be right next door.” With that, he turned and left.

      Mitch wanted to kick the hallway wall. He’d botched up a perfectly good partnership, making his new colleague feel uncomfortable and regretting ever having laid eyes on him. The thing was, he’d really, really liked her, and it had taken every last kernel of restraint not to ask for her phone number last night, even though on the surface she wasn’t the kind of mommy material he had in mind.

      But as always, before he’d been able to get the words out, the pain he’d endured from his wife choosing his best friend over him had strangled the thought out of him. He needed to forget about women for a while, especially beautiful women, and focus on what mattered most in his life—his daughter, Mia, and his job.

      Some flaw in his ex’s self-esteem had turned her into a plastic-surgery addict, even though she’d been beautiful to begin with. Now he hardly recognized her doll-like appearance. And he was damned if he’d let that weakness be a constant example for his Mia. He’d moved as far away as possible four years ago, once they’d divorced and Christie had given him full custody of their daughter.

      Those were the things he needed to focus on—his reason for being at this clinic, and for moving to London. A better life for Mia. Not the beautiful and fun-loving Grace Turner next door. A man was an idiot if he didn’t learn from his mistakes.

      He plopped into his desk chair and tried desperately to get her crystal-blue eyes and especially her gorgeous mouth out of his mind. Damn. And after several moments of wrestling with his thoughts, he resolved to keep Grace at arm’s length. For his own good.

      He’d given up beautiful women, had only dated stable potential-mother material after his first failed relationship on moving to London four years ago. He’d gotten himself involved too soon СКАЧАТЬ