Tempted by Her Single Dad Boss

by Annie O'Neil

  A cantankerous bark of irritation followed her comment but she didn’t take it personally. Rarely did when it came to patients. Their response to their own pain was wholly personal. Nothing to do with her. And then she winked at Alex.

  Why did she keep winking at him?

  Mercifully, Alex ignored it.

  “You’ve obviously made yourself familiar with the patients’ rooms.”

  She nearly cracked a joke. Something lame about enjoying having a good snoop behind her employer’s back, but reconsidered. She genuinely wanted Alex to know she was good at her job. Minus the jokes. Minus the bravura. The occasional pain.

  So she kept her lips pressed together and followed Alex as he gave her an extraordinarily detailed tour of the clinic—including all the fire exits and extinguisher points.

  She couldn’t help but smile. She would’ve put money on the fact this fastidious approach to safety—so meticulous it meant no one else had to even think about it—was his way of coping with loss.

  She’d chosen another path.

  After realizing just how much physio she’d need for the rest of her own life, she’d decided she wanted to know how to do it for herself. One more step in the “take charge of her own destiny” remit her parents had said was all hers for the taking. There had been one point after the debacle with Eric when she’d thought about abandoning people altogether and going down the line of working solely with animals, but her mother, who at this point hadn’t been long for the world, had asked her if she was making the decision based on fear or on passion.

  It had been fear. Fear of seeing herself in all the patients going through the worst times of their lives. Her mother had gently reminded her that she was, in fact, the best person for those patients to see. To work with. To see what they could become if they set aside their own fears. It had been one of the last conversations she’d had with her mother and the most profound. She’d thought she’d finally conquered all her fears.

  Right up until she’d received that text from Eric a couple of days ago.

  Hey, beautiful. Guess who’s back in Bean Town? Fancy a friendly beer?

  Yeah, right. As much as she’d want to be locked in a cage with a ravenous silver-backed gorilla. Actually...she’d choose the gorilla over a “friendly beer” with Eric. There wasn’t a solitary cell in his body she thought was capable of true friendship. Which was why she was at the clinic days before she was due to actually start, following Alex Kirkland around like an eager puppy and pretending she didn’t want to reach out and accidentally on purpose graze her hand along his unsurprisingly sexy posterior. Or kiss him. Or do both at the same time.

  “Have you seen the twins today?”

  Alex gave her a quick glance that told her all she needed to know. Of course he had. Dr. Protocol was also Dr. Efficiency from the looks of things. Fair enough. It was his clinic.

  “How many patients are actually here? Bit of a shame to have to be in the hospital over the holidays.”

  “It’s a bit of a shame to have to be in the hospital at any time.” He tipped his head down, those evergreen eyes of his peering at her in a way that would’ve been better suited to an over the thick-rimmed eyeglasses look. Or a monocle.

  Touché, Jeeves.

  But also a little bit unnecessary. It wasn’t like she of all people didn’t know that. Then again, she had made it pretty clear she didn’t want special treatment from him.

  She gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement then continued on their tour. Work Alex was definitely less accessible than the man at home with his son. Or the Alex who’d shared her shower. And straight away another whoosh of warm sparkles swirled around her stomach and lazily floated down to that sensitive triangle below her belly button as if they had all the time in the world to daydream about being in a wet and half-naked clinch with her boss.

  Stop thinking about what happened in the shower!

  She caught up to him and put on her best professional face. “How soon do you think it’ll be before I work with them? The twins.”

  He took in a quick breath. “Oh, I would say fairly sharpish.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Perhaps not this precise instant, given that you are not yet officially an employee,” he bit back, stopped himself, then began again. “Forgive me. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “I slept like a baby.”

  His eyes slid over to meet hers. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  He didn’t look very pleased and it suddenly struck her that she might be the reason he hadn’t slept particularly well. And kaboom! There went the internal electricity, making a mess of her heart rate.

  Work. Work talk fixes everything.

  “Maybe I could pop in and see them this afternoon. Do a bit of massage.” Her fingers flexed involuntarily. She glared at them, then snuck a peek at Alex, whose shoulders looked as though they could do with a massage as well. Urgh! No. Not massage! “Maybe a bit of TENS?”

  Alex gave her a peculiar look then nodded. “Perhaps.” He gave that sexy jaw of his a tell-tale scrub, indicating he was thinking, his fingertips drumming along his mouth as he pondered.

  What? To fire her? Tell her that her suggestions were terrible?

  “As you’ve arrived early, we can tweak your contract so that you’re covered on the insurance front, but I’d quite like you to work alongside me for the week if you don’t mind.” He held up a hand before she could protest. “I have my methods and you have yours. I’d like to make sure they...” He paused again.

  Lordy. The tension was killing her. What? What?

  That their methods of work were fluid? Gave them enough time to kiss in between patients? Would give him a reason to rip up the contract and send her back to Boston to face her demons? What? Speak!

  “I’d like to make sure our methods are on the same page.”

  Okay. Phew. Same page was something she could work with.

  He looked toward Salty’s room, “The electric nerve stimulation could help ease any discomfort the twins are having. We’ve also found ice packs can be useful in short bursts.”

  “So, is that a long-winded yes?”

  “There’s still paperwork to be done. You’re not technically on staff yet, Maggie.”

  “I like to make a difference from the moment I arrive.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Oh. You’ve done that all right.”

  Maggie tore her eyes away from his and focused on the long walkway they had just turned onto. It was glassed in so she could see the whole of the central courtyard and sprawl of a snow-blanketed lawn that curved down toward the sea. She felt about as transparent as the walkway.

  Kissing her boss a handful of hours after meeting him was sort of a no-brainer in the “recommended things not to do” department.

  He started it!

  You didn’t stop it.

  No doubt about it. Alex Kirkland tore down her finely crafted protection system—jokes, goofy faces, zany behavior. Anything to cover up the vulnerability she’d felt ever since Eric had planted that vile earworm straight into her soul.

  With you out of pity. Pity. Pity. Pity.

  She gave her head a sharp shake and tried to scrub her hands through her untamable hair, only to succeed in making it look more wild than it had before. Alex was giving her a funny look so she fell back on a reliable topic. The weather. Everyone loved a good weather chat. “Looks like it’ll be time to make snowmen soon.” She smiled at the wintry scene, which reminded her of the farm she’d grew up on. “The snow makes everything look so pure, doesn’t it?”

  She turned to him as his gaze flicked away.

  “Not everything.”

  He wasn’t even looking at her, but the comment lassoed straight into her brain and pulled to the fore all the various kissing scenarios she’d run through last night.

  H
e is not asking you to kiss again.

  Try telling the rest of your body that, will you?

  Her tongue swept across her lips. Her breasts were perking up. That warm swirl of heat he unleashed in her unfurled in her belly like a saucy serpent.

  He turned his head and looked straight at her, his green eyes inscrutable.

  Oh, jeez. He was reading her mind and didn’t approve. He looked so...stern. She almost preferred sexy, soaked-in-the-shower Alex to this guy. Almost.

  Sexy Alex scared her more. Made her feel things she’d promised herself she’d never feel again. Like the hot ache of desire that had made her breasts go heavy when he’d pulled her to him. Had heated up that private triangle below her belly button in a way no man had before. Seeing the fire in Alex’s eyes had sparked a warm, pulsing need deep within her for something she’d vowed never to do again.

  Not after Eric.

  She changed her pace so that she was walking slightly behind Alex as her memories rushed to the fore. She and Eric had met through friends at Boston Harbor Hospital. He’d been enthusiastic. Too enthusiastic, she’d thought at the time but had pushed her concerns to the side. He’d made her feel beautiful. Interesting. Valued. She’d been wary to steam ahead with the physical side of things. Something about the way he’d kept saying the fact she was an amputee was “super-cool” had niggled at her. She hadn’t figured out exactly why until one day when kissing hadn’t been enough and they’d decided to take things further. Tops had been unbuttoned. Her skirt had been unzipped and discarded. She’d instinctively started to take off her legs. She had in previous relationships, so...no big deal, right?

  His face had told her all she’d needed to know. But he’d kept on talking.

  “Soz, Maggie,” Eric had said. “I just can’t do it.”

  She’d been stupid enough to ask, “Do what?”

  He’d actually stepped away from her, literally physically repulsed by what he’d seen. She’d never felt more vulnerable. Arms crossed over her half-naked chest, heart beating so hard and fast she could see it thumping against her ribcage. He’d stared at her bare legs, his lip curling before he’d spoken....

  And then he’d spelled it out. As if the disgust on his face hadn’t been enough for her to figure out things hadn’t been going the way she’d thought.

  “Sleeping with you would be pity sex. And I don’t do things out of pity.”

  * * *

  Though he wasn’t wearing one himself, Alex was pleased to see the smile back on Maggie’s face. After he’d made his snarky comment about the snow, Maggie had fallen into a heavy silence. The kind he knew all too well. The kind that meant he’d stuck his foot in it. Again.

  When Amy had died, it was as if his entire vocabulary on how to talk to people normally had been buried in the ground alongside her. It was the first time since then he felt a genuine need to change things.

  Now that they were in the physio lab he’d designed from the underfloor heating up to the safety harnesses attached to the rafters, Maggie was back to being the bright, chirpy woman he’d first seen on the ferry.

  “Are you sure you have the time to do this with me?”

  “Absolutely. I never miss a chance to show off my second baby.”

  She shot him a sidelong glance as if she was reading something else into the comment then let it drop.

  He hadn’t meant it literally. Obviously. Though...he supposed building the clinic had been a therapy of sorts. Something to pull him and Jake out of the fug of confusion and grief they’d been swirling in ever since Amy had died. Alex knew he’d struggled. Jake had been so small when he’d lost his mother. Not even a toddler. And Alex hadn’t once considered he’d be raising his son on his own.

  He hadn’t, of course. There had been nannies and babysitters and daycares—none of which had sat right with him as he’d finished his specialty in neurosurgery.

  Time poor and regret rich, he’d hatched the idea to build the clinic when he’d met Cody at that conference.

  Jake had a proper home now. A community. There was more “down home” daycare available than you could shake a stick at. And not just for the clinicians, for anyone on the island who needed it. Twenty-four seven.

  The clinic’s reputation had spread much faster than either he or Cody had expected and at the moment it seemed as though they were having to hire new people practically every week. There was a rehab specialist in England he needed to talk with. Richard...or was it Rick? Rick Fleming? Something like that. He could be a nice balance to Maggie’s physio and equine therapies.

  “Hey, look!” Maggie pointed at the thick crash mats at the bottom of the long flight of training stairs. “We should put some of these in your house.”

  Her face paled. All except for her cheeks, which turned a hot pink. “I mean, if I’m staying at your house again. Tonight. Not that I’m presuming I will be or anything. I can move to the hospital or...” She flicked her thumb toward the barn. “I bet those stairs up to the apartment aren’t too bad to negotiate. Say, look at this.” She spotted a pediatric posture mirror and crossed to check it out, clearly as uncomfortable discussing her living arrangements as he was.

  He looked at her inspecting her own reflection then reaching out to touch the mirror.

  He wanted his fingertips to be the ones meeting hers, his hand to be the one pressing against hers.

  Alex took a step toward her and stopped himself.

  He was her boss, not her lover.

  So, this was what it felt like to be the moth drawn the flame.

  To experience pure, undiluted hunger for something you knew you shouldn’t touch.

  He wanted her to stay at his house every bit as much as he wanted her to leave.

  Perhaps if he pictured himself as one of his son’s current obsessions, dinosaurs, he’d feel more resistant to her. A pterodactyl. The thick, scaly armor was far more suited to flame than the flimsy wings of a Lepidoptera. But even that made him crack a smile. The woman had him picturing himself as a pterodactyl, for crying out loud!

  A flash of lightning over the ocean caught his attention.

  “Did you see that?”

  “What?” She turned to him.

  “Lightning. Out over the ocean.”

  “Nope. I’m too excited by all of your amazing toys.” Maggie gave a little clap of her hands then twisted back and forth, soaking the facilities in as if it were a chocolate factory and not a rehab gym. It was nice to see someone so openly enthusiastic about what he’d poured so much of his life into.

  She finally met his gaze. “It’s like a carnival for people on the mend. Ever thought of putting in blinking lights, spelling out ‘Alex and Cody’s Fun Fair’ in here?”

  No. He hadn’t. Neither, he suspected, had Cody.

  “I prefer ‘Capability and Walking Lab.’”

  “Lab? Okay. Where are the rats? Oh. I see. The patients are the rats. So...” She clocked his lack of smile and her own disappeared. “Lab it is, Dr. Kirkland.”

  She pulled her hair over her shoulder and rearranged it into a loose plait, switching to a light, bright tone, presumably to erase the Wow, you’ve got a weird way of treating your patients voice. “You two sure didn’t do this by halves. Huge windows. Big, solid beams. Nice touch, hiding the steel with driftwood planks. Cuts up the whole white thing you’ve got going on in here.” If he’d had even a hint of a smile on his face it had clearly dropped off. “Oh. Did I get that wrong? Is that vanilla cloud? The paint color on the walls?”

  Maggie was obviously straining to keep the conversation going and he wasn’t helping. Not with only a couple hours’ worth of sleep, if he counted up the minutes here and there he must’ve dozed off out of sheer exhaustion.

  Having Maggie just down the hall from him, tucked under the quilt his great-grandmother had made...hell, she might as well have been on the other side
of his bed. The bed at the clinic on the island he wouldn’t even be living on if his wife had listened to her commanding officer.

  Maggie had that in her too. That selflessness that had impelled his wife to disobey orders. And he couldn’t take that risk again. Not for Jake. Not for himself.

  “It’s just white,” he said bluntly, his past colliding with his present. “Plain old, run-of-the-mill...white.”

  “White’s actually the amalgamation of all the primary colors, so in a way you’ve made a bit of a color storm.”

  It had simply been the easiest choice.

  “We—Dr. Brennan and I thought it would keep things simple.” It wasn’t as if building a clinic when he had still been reeling from the loss of his wife and Cody had been untangling himself from the mess of his own marriage had been easy. Choosing the perfect color palette hadn’t really factored into it.

  She tipped her head to the side as if trying to make herself see things his way, but the tell-tale Maggie shrug indicated she clearly didn’t. Or couldn’t. He lived in a world of black and white and she clearly made use of the entire color spectrum.

  The decorators had actually suggested splashes of color here and there but he and Cody had thought the landscape of Maple Island provided enough visual flair without adding accent walls or murals that would detract from the work at hand. It hadn’t really occurred to him that might have been the whole point.

  “How long has it been open again? The clinic?”

  “A year and a bit. Nearly two?” He’d lost track really. Arriving on the island three years ago. Designing and then building it. Keeping tabs on Jake. Making sure they both ate healthy food, had quality bedtime stories, and somehow trying to rediscover the fun in life. Helpfully, the bulk of the Maple Islanders saw life as one great party. There were festivals popping up all over the place. Christmas tree lightings. Long icicle contests. Gingerbread houses in storefronts, and now that the New Year was underway a whole crop of others were getting advance notice in all the storefront windows. He wasn’t so sure about the vegan café’s call to arms for Freeganuary. Sounded like a recipe for listeriosis to him but...he wasn’t going to judge because neither did he like waste.