London's Most Eligible Doctor. Annie O'Neil

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СКАЧАТЬ then she hit Dance Monthly.

      The cover story nearly sent her running for the hills: “Down and Out: Are the Fallen Forgotten?”

      Against her will, tears sprang to her eyes. They may as well have put her face on the cover. Talk about cruel! She fought the growing tickle in her throat and nose, tightened her eyes, scrunched her forehead as much as she could, willing the pain to go away. Would there ever come a day when things wouldn’t hurt this much? It was hard to believe. Impossible even.

      “Dr. Manning said you were still here!” A tearstained but smiling Vonnie appeared in Reception with a pair of crutches and her leg done up in a pneumatic walker. Lina jumped to her feet and shook away the remains of her own tears. She didn’t know why, but having helped Vonnie, for even a few moments earlier, had given her a boost. It would hardly do for the teen to find her blubbing on her own.

      “Remember not to put any weight on that for three weeks!”

      Cole appeared beside Vonnie with a bag of what she assumed to be treatment aids. Cooling gels, compression wraps, anti-inflammatories. She knew the drill.

      “I know.” Vonnie sighed melodramatically, and rolled her eyes in Lina’s direction before singsonging, “RICE, RICE, RICE, RICE, RICE!”

      “That’s right, young lady,” Cole replied in a stentorian tone Lina hadn’t heard from him before. “And what does it stand for?”

      “OMG, I practically came out of the womb knowing what that stood for!”

      Cole crossed his arms and gave her a very good “I’m waiting” face. Lina could easily see him being a parent, willing to wait as long as it took for the child to clean their room, finish their homework, whatever … She wondered what—No, she didn’t. She didn’t wonder that at all!

      “Rest, ice, compression and elevation. Are you happy?” Vonnie’s tone was more teasing than truculent so whatever they’d discussed in the exam room had put her in a better mood. Her mother emerged with coats and handbags and a couple of tutus Lina hadn’t noticed before.

      “Ooh, look at these—they are wonderful!” Lina couldn’t help herself.

      “Do you really think so?” Vonnie’s mum flushed with pleasure as Lina nodded emphatically. “I made them.”

      “They’re amazing.” Lina meant it. From the very bottom of her heart. Her own mother, to save money on the countless tutus she’d required, had stitched and stitched and stitched for her, as well. “You’ve got a wonderful mother, Vonnie.” Lina gave the girl’s shoulder a squeeze. “You make sure you let her know how much you appreciate her.”

      “I will!” Vonnie replied, working her way across Reception and out the door. She might, mused Lina. Or she might not. Lina hoped she had done the latter, but was never sure it had been enough. One day … she would let her mother know just how heartfelt her gratitude was. One day.

      “So, I guess that’s us! Just another day at En Pointe!” Cole shrugged on a wool blazer, scooped up the puppy in his basket from the sofa and gestured with his head toward the front door with a smile. “Are you ready?”

      Cole took about three seconds to examine the menu before offering the waitress a smile and his order.

      “I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara, a fresh salad, some garlic bread and—uh—Rover, here, will have a bit of plain chicken and some rice. In a bowl. Is that doable?”

      “Not a problem.”

      It was easy enough for Lina to see that anything Cole or “Rover” asked for wouldn’t be a problem for the waitress, who had plonked herself down in the spare chair between the two of them. Lina may as well have been invisible for all the attention the waitress was paying her. Not that she minded. Going along to a job interview she’d been cajoled into was one thing, but being dragged out—okay, well, being blackmailed into going out to dinner was another.

      “Who’s the little puppy?” The server had on her best baby-talk voice now. “You’re the little puppy! You’re the little puppy!”

      So much for the restaurant’s no-dogs policy.

      The waitress had already made a puppy-exception rule, and brought the little guy a bowl of water and a couple of itty-bitty raw carrots to gnaw on in case he was teething. Right now the pup’s head was resting on the brim of the basket, lending him more supercute factor than anyone—or anything—should be allowed.

      Cute factor or no, Lina was there for the sole purpose of securing the job. That was it.

      “Lina?” Cole tipped his head in the waitress’s direction. It was her turn to order. She’d scanned the prices and hadn’t even bothered to look at the menu choices. One entrée was the equivalent of her weekly food budget.

      “Don’t worry.” Cole reached across and covered her hand in his. “I’ll take it out of your first paycheck.”

      Lina tugged her hand away and clenched it in her lap. She wasn’t comfortable accepting help … but it had been ages since she’d had a well-made restaurant meal. Gone were the days of being feted by London’s social elite.

      “The gnocchi, please. And a rocket salad.” They were the least expensive items, but with the added bonus of reminding her of pierogi. Pierogi! Her mouth watered at the thought of her mother’s pierogi. One day … she’d go home one day. Lina pursed her lips and handed the waitress her menu, who gave her a cursory glance, scribbled something on her notepad, then whirled off with a smile expressly for Cole’s benefit.

      Lina focused her attention on the puppy. Neutral territory. That’s what she needed. Cole’s hand on hers had been too close to feeling something—wanting something. She hadn’t realized how curative the simple touch of a hand could be.

      “He doesn’t look like a Rover.”

      “No?” Cole rubbed a finger along the little guy’s head. “What does he look like?”

      As if by design, they both crossed their arms, leaned back and considered the puppy. He had a white muzzle that broadened into a wide stripe that led up to his forehead. Black took over from there. He had little brown arches over each eye, white paws and appeared slightly affronted at this very obvious inspection.

      “Vladimir,” Lina pronounced.

      “Horace,” Cole countered.

      Lina shook her head. “No. He is not a Horace.”

      “How do you know he’s not a Horace?”

      “I just know.” Lina gave Cole her best I-just-know look, then tipped her head to the left as if it would give her a different perspective. The puppy opened his eyes wider as if in anticipation of her coming out with the right name.

      “Wojciech.”

      “I can’t even pronounce that.” Cole laughed. “How about Spot?”

      “No!” Lina protested. “That’s lazy. And look. Where do you see spots on this guy?” She lifted him up out of the basket. His back leg was in a little splint. She wanted to ask what had happened but felt herself already getting too involved with the puppy and with Cole. СКАЧАТЬ