Unwrapping The Neurosurgeon's Heart. Charlotte Hawkes

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      Anouk tapped her fingers agitatedly on her electronic pad as she waited for the lift.

      Why did she keep letting Solomon Gunn get under her skin? It was ignominious enough that her body was clearly attracted to him but it was so much worse that she kept wanting him to be different from the playboy cliché—imagining that she saw glimpses of something deeper within him, for pity’s sake.

      She who, of all people, should surely have known better?

      She’d spent her entire childhood managing her mother. Playing the grown-up opposite her childlike mother—a woman who had perfected all the drama and diva-like tendencies of the worst kind of Hollywood star stereotypes.

      She had watched the stunning Annalise Hartwood chase playboy after playboy, fellow stars and movie directors alike, convinced that she would be the one to tame them. It was the same story every time. Of course each finale was as trite as the last. Her biological father had been the worst, by all accounts, but ultimately they’d all ended up using her, hurting her, dumping her.

      And Anouk had been the one who’d had to pick up the pieces and put her mother’s fragile ego back together.

      Not that Annalise had ever thanked her for it.

      Quite the opposite.

      Anouk had never quite matched up to her mother’s mental image of how she should be as the daughter of a famous movie star. She’d been too gawky, too lanky; too introverted and too geeky; too book-smart and too gauche.

      It had taken decades—and Saskia—for Anouk to finally realise that the problem hadn’t really been her. It had been her mother.

      That deathbed confession had been the most desolating moment of all. The betrayal had been inconceivable. It had laid her to waste right where she’d stood.

      That was the moment she’d realised she had to get away from her old life.

      She’d changed her name, her backstory, and she’d come to the UK. And Saskia, loyal and protective, had dropped everything to come with her.

      In over a decade in the UK no one had come close to getting under her skin and poking away at old wounds the way Sol had somehow seemed able to do.

      The lift doors pinged and she stepped forward in readiness. The last person she expected to see inside was the cause of her current unease. This was the very reason she’d waited for the lift instead of returning via the staircase. For a moment, she almost thought he looked as unsettled as she felt.

      But that was ridiculous. Nothing ever unsettled Sol.

      ‘Have you decided against getting in after all?’ he asked dryly when she’d hovered at the doors so long that he’d been compelled to step forward and press the button to hold them. ‘Anyone would think you were avoiding me.’

      No, they wouldn’t. Not unless he’d equally been avoiding her, surely?

      Her mind began to tick over furiously. Her school teachers had called her an over-thinker as a kid. They’d made it sound like a bad thing.

      ‘I thought you were leaving? Women to meet.’

      ‘I am.’ He shrugged casually, leaning back against the lift wall and stretching impossibly long, muscled legs in front of him.

      ‘Up in Neurology?’ she challenged.

      ‘I forgot something.’

      She eyed him thoughtfully. No coat, no bag, no laptop.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘What did you forget?’ she pushed.

      ‘What is this?’

      He laughed convincingly and anyone else might have believed him. She probably should believe him.

      ‘The Inquisition?’

      ‘You were checking on your patients,’ she realised, with a start.

       Who was that patient he’d mentioned earlier? Ah, yes.

      ‘Mrs Bowman, by any chance?’

      He swiftly covered his surprise.

      ‘My patient, my responsibility,’ he commented briskly.

      Anouk ignored him.

      ‘And now you’re going back to support Izzy and her family.’

      ‘Is that so?’

      Her heart thundered in Anouk’s chest and she didn’t know if it was at the realisation of what he was doing, or the fact that she was confronting him about it.

      ‘You play the tough guy, the playboy, but you’ve actually got a bit of a softer side, haven’t you?’

      ‘Vicious rumour,’ he dismissed.

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      The lift bumped gently as they reached the ground floor and when she swayed slightly, Sol instinctively reached out to steady her. The unexpected contact was a jolt as though she’d grabbed hold of an electrical power cable with no Faraday suit to protect her.

      It coursed through her, zinging from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

      His darkening eyes and flared nostrils confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who felt СКАЧАТЬ