Fairytale With The Single Dad. Alison Roberts

Чтение книги онлайн.

      An angel had walked into his consulting room.

      An angel with long, luscious waves of chocolate-coloured hair and sad grey eyes. Big, sad eyes, tinged with red, in the fresh face of an English rose.

      Startled, he dropped his pen, fumbling for it when it fell from his fingers and smiling in apology. What the hell had just happened? Why was he reacting like this? She was just a patient!

      He’d not expected to feel suddenly…nervous. As if he’d never treated a patient before. Tongue-tied. Blindsided by his physical response to this woman. He could feel his normal greeting—Morning, take a seat, how can I help?—stifled in his throat and he had to turn to his computer, glancing at the screen briefly to gather his thoughts before he could speak.

      Sydney Harper.

      Beautiful. Enchanting.

      A patient!

      Reel your thoughts back in and show that you know what you’re doing.

      He cleared his throat. ‘Er…yes, you did… But he…er…got overbooked.’ He paused briefly, noticing the way she hovered uncertainly at the door. The way her long cardigan covered her almost to mid-thigh, the shapeless garment hiding any figure she might have. The way her heavy tartan skirt covered her legs down to her boots. The way her fingers twisted around each other.

      Curious… Why is she so frightened? Why do I get the feeling that she tries her best not to be noticed?

      He could see her gaze darting about the room, as if she were looking for means of escape, and suddenly curiosity about this woman overrode any previous nervousness.

      ‘Is that okay?’

      ‘I’d prefer to see Dr Preston. He knows me. I’m his patient.’

      Nathan glanced back at the computer, so that he wouldn’t stare at her and make her feel even more uncomfortable. Did Dr Preston really know her? The last time she’d been into the surgery had been—he checked the screen—a year ago. A lot could change in a year.

      He should know.

      Forget that. Concentrate on your work.

      He was itching to know what ailed her. What he could help her with. How to keep her in the room and not have her bolt like a skittish horse.

      Purely on a professional basis, of course. I’m not interested in her in that way.

      What had brought her to the surgery today? She looked anxious. A bit stressed. Not entirely comfortable with this change.

      He gave her his best friendly smile. ‘Why don’t you take a seat? You never know, I might be able to help. Doctors do that.’ He tried to reassure her, but she approached the chair opposite him as if she were a gazelle trying to sidle past a ravenous lion.

      He waited for her to sit and then he looked her over. A little pale, though her cheeks were flushed. Her pulse was probably elevated. Her blood pressure rising. What had made her so anxious? He was intrigued. But he’d learnt a valuable trick as a doctor. Silence was a wonderful tool. People would feel compelled to fill it. They’d start talking. Eventually.

      So he waited, noting how white her knuckles were as they clutched the bag upon her lap.

      And he waited.

      She was looking at anything but him. Checking out the room as if it were new to her before she finally allowed herself to glance at his face. Her cheeks reddened in the most delightful way, and she was biting her bottom lip as she finally made eye contact.

      ‘I need some sleeping pills. Dr Preston told me to come again if I needed a repeat.’

      Ah. There we go!

      ‘You’re not sleeping well?’

      Her cheeks reddened some more, and again she averted her eyes. ‘Not really. Look, I’m needed back at work, so if you could just write me a prescription? I don’t want to keep my clients waiting.’

      Nathan Jones sat back in his swivel chair and appraised her. He was curious as to why she needed them. ‘Sleeping pills are really a last resort. I’ll need a few details from you first of all.’

      The flash of alarm in her eyes was startling to observe. And if she twisted the strap of her handbag any more it would soon snap.

      Sydney shook her head. ‘I don’t have long.’

      ‘Neither do I. So let’s crack on, shall we? Eight minutes per patient can go by in the blink of an eye.’ He was trying to keep it loose. Casual. Non-threatening. This woman was as taut as a whip.

      She let out an impatient breath. ‘What do you need to know?’

      ‘Tell me about your sleep routine.’

      Does your husband snore? Does he toss and turn all night, СКАЧАТЬ