“I’m just reminding you who’s helping you stay here. I think it’s about time you remembered that. Jeremiah, Calla, we all have a role around here. This clinic doesn’t only belong to you anymore.” He took a deep breath. The injured look in her eyes spoke volumes. Helen felt like family and he respected her more than he could ever tell her. But her matriarchal tendencies were beginning to wear thin.
He walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I think some of the decisions around here should be made by all of us.”
“Even the ones about your flavor of the month?” She spat the words out.
He knew he’d hurt her. And it hadn’t been his intention. But he should have probably have had this conversation with her a few months ago. As for the remark about Selena, it was enough to push him right to the edge.
“What we need around here is a business manager. We’ve needed one for a while. And the salary we currently pay Josh for his ‘meet and greet’ status could more than cover it. As for the flavor of the month? Let me worry about that. There’s no way we’re firing Selena. Whether you like it or not we need a receptionist right now and from what I can see, she’s doing a damn good job. You worry about identifying our leak.”
“But what about the clients? We’ve already had a few calls about the leaks with people threatening to cancel. We need those clients, Colt.”
She was right—and he knew it. He took a calming breath. “Let me deal with the clients. I’ll call any that want to cancel. If I have to go and see them personally, I will.”
Selena handled most of the calls into the clinic and could alert him to any possible cancellations. Spending a few late nights or early mornings with her wouldn’t exactly be a problem. Maybe he could persuade her to help him relieve some of his tension.
That, along with getting to know her a little better, could be exactly what he needed.
Chapter Six
Selena stared at the appointment screen. Another few minor celebrities and Hollywood wives had called to cancel. Even more had phoned to ask about security around the clinic and the cause of the leaks.
Colt appeared in front of her. His shirt was every bit as wrinkled as his brow. “Do I have any more patients this morning?”
She shook her head. “You’re done until 2:00 p.m.” Her gaze ran up and down the length of his body. “What happened to Mr. Immaculate?”
“I’ve been here since seven this morning trying to call back as many patients as possible, hoping to placate them about the leaks and stop them from canceling. If things continue like this there won’t be a clinic.”
She’d only known him just over a week, but seeing Colt less than his dashing self disturbed her. Not because she was concerned about appearances, but because she was concerned about him. He looked tired. He looked stressed, and she didn’t like it one bit.
The early start didn’t bother her at all. Every morning she stashed her clothes and belongings in the back of one of the cupboards in the cottage. Easily retrieved if need be, though heaven knew where she’d put them if she had to move. She was glad no one had needed to stay there for the last few days.
He pushed some papers down on to her desk. “Can you book these patients into the cottages next week?”—he pointed at one in particular—“She’s very private, so be sure to give her the one that’s farthest away from everyone else.”
She bristled. Perfect. It was her place of refuge. At least, she was beginning to think of it that way.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” She shook her head and pointed at his wrinkled clothes, “I’m not ironing your shirt for you.”
He laughed. “I’m perfectly capable of ironing my own shirt, even though it doesn’t look like it. I ran out of time this morning.” He pointed to her head, “It’s time to take those stitches out. Then I wondered if you’d like to grab some lunch down at the spa. Why don’t you bring my schedule, and I’ll talk you through how long I like to take over certain consultations.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So, it looks like work.”
He gave the tiniest nod of his head. “Exactly.”
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, logging herself out in an instant, and she stood up to join him. She tugged at her dress, pulling down the hemline and sucking in her stomach.
But he missed nothing. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?” She picked up her bag and followed him down the corridor.
He was watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Just because I’m a plastic surgeon doesn’t mean I spend my time looking at people and deciding what bits I want to fix.”
“You think I need something fixed?” The thought alarmed her. It was all right for her to be critical of her body, but she certainly didn’t want him to think that way.
He turned around to face her. “The only thing you need fixed is your stitches. And it will take around two minutes and there’ll be no pain at all. But let’s have lunch first.” He held open the door to the stairs. “Every time I’m around a woman they’re always pulling their stomachs in and pushing their chests out. Or talking to me constantly from one side, as if they think there’s something wrong with the other. It gets kind of tiring.”
“Maybe it’s not about you. Maybe it’s about the fact I forgot to put on my Spanx today. Anyway, why shouldn’t a woman feel self-conscious around you? You look like you’ve just walked off the catwalk.”
He held open the door at the bottom of the stairs. “Well, that’s all genes—not surgery.”
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one? I guess some people are born perfect.”
They walked into the restaurant in the spa. It was positioned at the end of the building, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. White linen cloths covered all the tables and black-suited waiting staff hurried to show them to a table next to the full-length glass windows. Colt pulled out a chair for her. “I’m hardly perfect. You’ve no idea what lies beneath these clothes. Good tailoring hides a multitude of sins.”
She pulled her chair in and raised her eyebrows. “Does it really? I think I should be the judge of that.”
His eyes widened slightly with a look of sinful possibilities. Flirting with Colt was fun.
She picked up the menu and gave a sigh. “Delightful. Avocado salad three hundred twenty-five calories, Caesar salad six hundred fifty calories, and wow—here’s the all-out-salad Parma Ham, Mozzarella, Rocket and Peach salad at seven hundred eighty calories.” She looked across the restaurant. “I must be the only woman in here who isn’t a size zero.”
“Who cares?” He rested his chin on his hand as he watched her.
“Just about everyone in LA.” Her voice drifted off.
Colt leaned across the table toward her, fixing her with his steady blue eyes. “You know what I think when I see a size zero woman? I think osteoporosis.” He snapped his fingers next to his eye. “Just like that. Instantly.”
Selena could feel herself narrowing her eyes in disbelief. “Really?”
“Really.” There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation.
“So why be a plastic surgeon, then? Why do surgery people don’t really need?”
Colt leaned back in his chair. “Plastic surgery isn’t only about the cosmetic stuff. I do lots of other kinds of work. It just doesn’t warrant the same publicity.”
“Or the same income?”
He nodded. “Well, there is that, too. But honestly, the work I do at Helen’s House and for the children’s cleft palate association is the best work around. I pieced together a woman’s jaw that was shattered into twelve pieces. I reconstructed a shattered orbital that could have resulted in another woman losing her vision. You can’t put a price on things like that.”
The waiter appeared at their elbow. “Would you like something from the menu, or shall I ask the chef to come and speak to you?”
Selena didn’t hesitate. “I’d like a barbecue chicken burger with fries, please. No salad.”
Colt grinned at her. �
�And I’ll have a bleu cheeseburger, with fries and a salad on the side.”
“And to drink?”
Selena smiled. “Diet soda, please.” Colt laughed and she shrugged. “It’ll counteract the calories in the burger.”
He nodded. “Me, too.” He handed the menu back to the waiter. “Thanks, Harry.”
“You realize this place will spontaneously combust when the smell of fries starts drifting through?”
Colt shook his head. “What is it about women and size? You know, there’s nothing more off-putting than taking a woman out for dinner and watch her shove her food around her plate all night.”
“Pet peeve?”
He nodded in agreement. “Pet peeve.”
She lifted her fork. “Well, I can guarantee you, if you try and steal any of my fries, I’ll stab you with my fork.”
He picked his up, too. “Likewise.” He tilted his head to one side and stared at her. She put her glass back down and studied him across the table. Colt was every woman’s dream guy. The dark Italian suit was exquisitely cut, showing off his broad shoulders and firm physique. The white shirt and red tie made him look like a film star from a publicity photo. As for the dark slightly ruffled hair and come-to-bed eyes…
He looked up. “What?”
She pointed at the printed out schedule on the table. “What exactly is it you do every Wednesday afternoon?”
“Aha. Didn’t I tell you that was a secret?”
She shook her head. “Well, Dr. Travers, if you’d like me to handle your consultation times appropriately, I think it would be wise if I knew when you were available or not.”
She sat back in her chair and smiled. The availability double entendre wasn’t lost on him.
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m always available, Selena.”
His words sent a wonderful tingle across her skin. If only. Exactly how many days did she need to wait now? She lowered her head and looked up through heavy lashes, “You still haven’t answered my question.” She stretched her legs out from under the table, hesitating long enough to let him look at them before she crossed them.
Colt made a strangled sort of noise, then coughed loudly and cleared his throat.
Perfect. Her legs had done the trick.
…
“Okay, you’ve got me. Every Wednesday I work at Helen’s House. Seacliffe does a lot of charity work for women and kids who’ve been victims of domestic abuse.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Unfortunately, lots of these women—and some of the kids—need plastic surgery after they’ve been injured. None of them have health insurance. So we do the best we can to help.”
She visibly sucked in a breath. “I’d heard people around here mention Helen’s House. I just wasn’t quite sure what it was. Do all of you help out, or is it just you?”
He nodded slowly. “Helen and her husband were the original founders. Everyone who has become a partner at Seacliffe since then has known that it’s part of the deal. We all have our own reasons for helping out.”
“What’s yours?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she were almost afraid to ask.
His gaze swept across the room as he considered his answer. How much should he tell her? His gut instincts about Selena were good. But then again, it might be that he was just blinded by the simmering attraction between them. He wasn’t ready to tell her anymore. His eyes didn’t meet hers. “Like I said, it’s personal.”
Something crossed across her face. He couldn’t tell if she was hurt or just curious. It was time to change the subject.
He lifted his head and smiled. “So, Selena, I love the accent. You told me you were on a working vacation. How long are you planning on staying?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not too sure. I worked for a few years in Scotland but my company got taken over by another and they,” she lifted her fingers in the air to make air quotes, “downsized.”
“You were part of the downsizing?”
She nodded. “Me and another hundred people. I tried for another few jobs but wasn’t lucky, so I came over here. I thought there would be more opportunities.”
“And now that there isn’t, you might want to leave LA?”
She looked out over the beautiful ocean. “I’m not sure. I was so happy when I’d made plans to come here. I mean, who wouldn’t want to come to a place that looks like this?”
“I’ve got to say, I love it here now,” said Colt.
“You weren’t brought up here?” She looked surprised. People generally were when they realized Colt wasn’t an LA native.
He paused for a second. “I was brought up a few hundred miles from here. I moved to LA in my late teens.”
If he’d any doubts before, they were instantly banished. Her curious stare fixed on him. “I thought you were LA born and bred.”
“It feels like it now. I can’t imagine staying anywhere else.” He paused, then asked, “So what’s the story with you and the shoe-thrower? I take it you’re not together anymore?”
Now he was the curious one. But her entrance had certainly been unique.
She let out a long huff of air, “No. We’re definitely not together now. Mark was a nice enough guy, it just didn’t work out between us.”
“Really? That’s all you’re giving me?” His eyebrows lifted in amusement.
She met his gaze. “That’s all I’m giving you.” She took a drink of her soda. “Now, it’s my turn. I’m assuming there’s no Mrs. Travers?”
It seemed he wasn’t the only one that could do a rapid change of subject. But he liked that. Give a little, get a little back. Just enough that both players could keep the other interested. He could play that game. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
His eyes concentrated on hers, his voice low. “I’ve been waiting to find a fellow sci-fi fanatic. Most women don’t appreciate my likes and dislikes.”
She gave a visible shiver that made him smile. Her fingers trailed down the side of her glass. It was icy cold but he could almost sense the heat running through her body right now. She tilted her head to the side, exposing the paler skin at the side of her neck. “Well, the sci-fi thing is probably a one-off. I’m sure we’ve got nothing else in common.”
He pushed a little further. How much could he get to know about Selena? How much would they both be willing to reveal? “That sounds like a challenge—and I’m not so sure. Let’s see.” He raised his eyebrows in query. “Star Wars or Star Trek?”
“Is this a pop quiz?”
“It’s a getting-to-know you quiz.”
She grinned. “What’s the prize?”
He didn’t answer, just licked his lips.
She shifted in her chair; it wasn’t his imagination—she understood the hidden implication entirely. “Star Wars, every time.”
He frowned, and she laughed.
“Was that the wrong answer? I like Stargate, too, if that’s any help. Oh, and Doctor Who.” She winked at him. “I’ve even been to a convention.”
“Really?” He sat up straighter in his seat. “In that case, I might make an exception for you. Let’s try something else. Okay, mornings or evenings?”
There was no hesitation. “Evenings. I’m definitely a night owl. What about you?”
They were complete opposites. “I run along a few miles along the beach every morning before it gets too busy.” He paused then added, “But I’ve been known to do a twilight jog, too.”
“Any vampires?”
He laughed. “No, there’s never any vampires on Malibu beach. Anyhow, I prefer mornings.”
She shuddered. “Oh no. I can’t think of anything worse. I like my coffee fix before I even get out of bed.”
“I’ll remember that.”
He couldn’t help but tease her.
She gave a little tug at her shirt, unfastening the top button. Colt’s gaze was unwavering. He was enjoying seeing her flounder.
“So, Selena…” He leaned a little close
r across the table, lowering his voice. “Bedroom habits—are you a neat freak or a messy girl?”
She couldn’t speak. Her eyes widened at the shock of his question. He liked her more and more. He moved back and let out a laugh, obviously reveling in her reaction. “Do I get an answer?”
She lifted her glass and gulped down some soda. She rested her fingers near the open button of her shirt, twiddling it between her finger and thumb. “Oh, I’m definitely a messy girl in the bedroom.” She smiled wickedly, watching his eyes fixate on the button. “I’m betting you’re a neat freak.” She waved her hand. “You have that aura about you.”
He nodded. “Guilty as charged.”
“Then it seems we’re complete opposites.”
His response was instant. “You know what they say, opposites attract.”
She hesitated. This flirtation was skyrocketing.
But the heavy silence between them was quickly broken by the waiter sitting plates down in front of them. “Bon appétit.”
Colt’s eyebrow arched. “Bon appétit.”
Selena let out a sigh as she watched the steam curl up from her burger and fries.
Colt didn’t waste any time. He’d already cut his burger in half and was loading salad into the bun. “Oh lighten up, Selena.” He waved his hand at her fries. “Go on, you know you want one. Live a little.”
The waiter’s presence had broken the sexual innuendo between them.
She picked it up and took a bite.
“Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to tie you down and force feed you. Strawberries, chocolate, champagne…” He was teasing her again. It was fun, and he liked it.
“Now there’s an offer I’ll need to consider.” His mind exploded with a whole host of indecent thoughts—none of which were suitable for a spa restaurant in the middle of the day.
Colt spoke carefully. “Until your stitches come out, you’re still officially my patient. It puts you well out of bounds.” He was trying to keep the tone light, as if he were half joking about it. But he wasn’t. Not for a second.
“You’ll be taking my stitches out in the next thirty minutes. What happens then?”
Was he really doing this? Flirting with a member of staff and thinking erotic thoughts while she ate some fries? He’d never had a lunch date like this in her life.
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