The Right Mr. Wrong. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ skied down and joined her as she propped her skis in the rack outside the clinic. He stepped forward and held the door open for her. She glanced up at him and mumbled her thanks, then slipped by, careful not to brush against him.

      So much for worrying he might have to watch his step around her to keep her from getting too interested in him. For whatever reason, she wanted nothing to do with him. Not the usual reaction he got from women—and why?

      And why was he letting her rejection bother him so much?

      They found their patient, Julie, sitting up on an exam table, her injured knee wrapped in towels and ice. Hagan’s friend, Dr. Ben Romney, examined her X-rays. “Your turn on the mountain today?” Hagan asked.

      “That’s right,” Ben said. He turned to Julie. “You’ve got a little tear in your meniscus, but you’re going to be fine. I don’t even think you’ll need surgery.”

      “Thanks to Hagan.” Julie beamed at him. “I’m sure I’d be much worse off if he hadn’t arrived so quickly to take care of me.”

      He smiled automatically. Julie was pretty, with expensive ski clothes and a flirtatious manner. But with her knee banged up she wouldn’t be doing much partying for a few weeks. And while he was not opposed to taking advantage of his job to meet women, he shied away from involvement with those who were physically injured on his watch.

      Some—Maddie perhaps—would say this was skewed ethics on his part, but he made up his own rules for his life and that was one of them.

      Ben left Julie to the care of his nurse and motioned for Hagan and Maddie to follow him into his office. “Looks like you’ve made another conquest,” he said to Hagan after he had shut the office door.

      Hagan shook his head. “She will be cutting her vacation short to take care of her injury,” he said. He dropped into one of two chairs in front of Ben’s desk. “Have you met Maddie? She is our newest patroller.”

      “Pleased to meet you, Maddie.” Ben offered his hand. “Ben Romney.”

      “It’s good to meet you, Dr. Romney.”

      “Ben, please. What brings you to ski patrol?”

      “I thought it was time to try something different,” she said. “Ski patrol sounded interesting.”

      The explanation struck Hagan as incomplete. Why would a world-class athlete retreat to a somewhat remote Colorado resort when she might have scored a lucrative gig as a rep for an equipment manufacturer, an outdoor clothing model or even the resident pro on a resort’s marketing payroll? Why put up with the hard work, injured tourists and low pay of ski patrol?

      “She was a ski racer,” he said. “World Cup. Headed for the Olympics.” Apparently she had left the team after a bad accident, but he did not know the details.

      Ben leaned forward, definitely more interested now. “What’s your last name?”

      She sent Hagan a pained look. Hey, why was she ticked at him? It wasn’t as if her past was a big secret. “Alexander. Maddie Alexander.”

      “Awesome Alexander!” Ben grinned. “I remember reading about you in Sports Illustrated.”

      “Yeah.” Her gloomy expression was more worthy of a write-up in Mortician’s Monthly.

      “You were written up in some of the medical journals, too,” Ben said. “The titanium repair on your tibia? And the artificial joint in your hip?”

      She nodded, her face pale. Hagan stood and pushed a chair toward her. She looked as if she might faint. “Sit down,” he ordered, and she did so. He glared at Ben.

      Ben had the grace to flush. “Sorry. I forget not everyone’s as interested in catastrophic medicine as I am. Heather has to remind me not to discuss surgery at dinner.”

      “She is a wise woman,” Hagan said. Mostly because Heather had finally gotten over the silly crush she had had on him last summer and had focused on a man who really cared for her—the way Hagan never could have.

      There was a knock and the nurse stuck her head in the door. “Your patient is ready to go,” she said.

      “We had better get back to work, too,” Hagan said as Maddie popped to her feet.

      “It was nice meeting you, Maddie.” Ben offered his hand. “Welcome to Crested Butte.”

      “Thanks.” She shook his hand and flashed a warm smile. Hagan felt a pinch of jealousy that such a look had not been directed at him.

      Which only proved his ego was as big as the next guy’s. He was not interested in dating Maddie, but there was no reason they could not be friends.

      They followed Ben into the clinic’s reception room, and found Julie balancing on a pair of crutches. “Oh, Hagan? Could you help me out to my friend’s car?” She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him.

      “Of course.” He took one crutch and let her lean on him instead as they made their way to an SUV idling out front. He deposited her in the passenger seat and she pressed a slip of paper into his hand. “Call me,” she whispered, then kissed his cheek.

      He pocketed the paper and stepped back, making no commitment as the SUV pulled away.

      “I’ll go fill out the report,” Maddie said, pushing past him. “You can add your part later.”

      She grabbed her skis from the rack and headed around the side of the building. Ben came to stand alongside Hagan. “What did you do to her?” he asked.

      “Nothing,” he said.

      Ben looked as if he did not believe this. “You didn’t hit on her, did you?” he asked.

      Hagan scowled at him. “No, you know I stay away from the locals.”

      “Yeah.” Ben looked again in the direction Maddie had vanished. “Maybe she’s jealous of you and Julie baby.”

      “Not likely.” He would know if she were interested in him—she showed none of the usual signs.

      “Maybe you should consider breaking your own rule,” Ben said. “She’s good-looking and you two have skiing and patrol in common.”

      “Not my type.” Yes, Maddie was good-looking and independent and she had an interesting background, but she was too prickly for his tastes. Not to mention that being around her made him feel too edgy and uncomfortable. “I will stick with the tourists.” His policy of avoiding emotional entanglements with women had served him well for the past ten years. He saw no need to abandon it now.

      Ben shook his head. “If you think that’s going to keep you from getting caught one day, you’ve got another think coming. Just ask Max.”

      Hagan’s best friend Max Overbridge and newcomer Casey Jernigan were engaged to be married in the summer, as soon as the snow melted enough off the Mountain Garden to hold the wedding there. Hagan was slated to serve as best man. “The difference between me and Max,” Hagan said, “is that Max wanted to be caught, no matter what he says different. Me, I know better.”

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