“I don’t see how his narrow face can support such high cheekbones. You know—that Elvis look he’s after.”
Mitch bit his lower lip, and blew out a short breath. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, about how we were doing the same thing with him as that hack I was griping about today did to my patient.”
Oh, she’d touched a sensitive note after all with that observation.
“And you’re right. Just because some rich rocker wants to look like Elvis, it doesn’t mean we have to help him out. I’ve decided I’m going to talk to him tomorrow night, see if we can get him to back off a little from that extreme makeover he’s looking for.”
Grace wished she’d come from home so she could have brought her laptop and the graphic she’d made of how Davy’s face would look by overlapping the Elvis features on it. It wasn’t a good look on his narrow face. Not at all.
Knowing she’d influenced Mitch into changing his mind about giving in to the guy’s every whim made her feel valued and respected—a part of the Hunter Clinic team.
“But if we don’t give him what he wants,” she said, “what’s to stop him from going somewhere else, getting really botched up, and leaving us scrambling to find funds to bring more children to the clinic pro bono?”
Mitch opened his mouth to say something when the beeper hooked over his belt went off. He glanced at the number. “I’ve got to get this one.”
He got up and went in search of his cell phone in the kitchen. She heard muffled talking in the other room and shortly he returned with a torn expression on his face. “Damn, my patient is having some bleeding issues, and I need to go and have a look at her, but I’m in a bind with Mia as Roberta is off tonight.”
“You need someone to watch her? I can do that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d love to, and I don’t have any plans tonight other than laundry. That can wait another day.”
Relief trickled over his face, changing his worried expression. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
He went over to Mia, who was busy feeding Koko in the tree house. “Daddy has to go back to work for a little bit, honeybee, but Gracie’s going to stay with you. Okay?” He bent and kissed the top of her head.
Mia clapped. “Yay! Bye, Daddy.”
“Talk about not feeling needed,” he said, half teasing and obviously half insecure.
“I’ll take good care of her. Don’t worry. I just hope it’s nothing serious with that girl.”
He pushed his stockinged feet into his loafers and grabbed his keys. “Me, too.”
And before she could say another word, he was out the door.
Mitch rushed home as soon as he was sure Lucy Grant was stable. The butcher job that the first plastic surgeon had done on her had already caused scar tissue to form and he’d had to remove some tissue before he’d put in the new lip implants. The mouth, being rich with vasculature, had bled easily and combined with the fresh surgical swelling had made the evening-shift nurse worry it might be a drug allergy. He did a thorough examination of the surgical site and discovered a leaking vessel, put in one stitch and all was well, but the patient would have extensive bruising and swelling for a couple of weeks.
Almost three hours later, he opened his front door, and headed down the short entryway to discover Grace and Mia asleep in each other’s arms. On the sofa, they looked like a sleeping variation on the Madonna-and-child portrait.
Rocked to the core at the sight, he put out his hand and leaned against the wall, just staring at them. He’d made a huge mistake leaving Grace with Mia to bond even more. All his daughter had talked about the rest of Sunday evening had been Gracie, Gracie, Gracie.
This wouldn’t do. He couldn’t let this go on, yet he’d opened the door and invited her in when Mia had already been under her spell.
He needed his head examined over that decision.
The most disturbing part of all was that he was just as deeply under Grace’s spell, only much, much deeper, than Mia.
CHAPTER SIX
MITCHELL REALLY SHOULD wake up Gracie and carry Mia off to bed. Yet he stood there, looking at them from across the room like two parts of a puzzle perfectly fit together on his couch. Grace’s long, dark hair feathered across the top of the sofa on one side, and pooled together with his daughter’s chaotic brown curls on the other. He took a few steps forward for a better view. A long-forgotten yearning for a complete family prodded his memory. Having given up on that dream ages ago, he pushed it away.
Not gonna happen. The last mommy-material date had bored him to tears.
A guy was supposed to learn from his mistakes. Grace was in a demanding profession and didn’t have time for Mia. Twice now he’d seen her go off with Leo to the procedure room for God knew what. For all he knew, she was already well on her way to becoming a plastic surgery junkie, like his ex.
It didn’t ring true. She’d been the one to bring up Davy Cumberbatch and cautioning about unnecessary surgeries. And nipping and tucking ad nauseam really didn’t seem Grace’s style.
A book had fallen from Grace’s hand—it rested on one of her thighs. He recognized the cover. The Tale of Misty Do-Right in the Battle of the Wrongs. It was his and his daughter’s all-time favorite story, a fun way to teach ethics, and had awesome illustrations. Now she’d shared it with Grace. It was a clue how special Grace had quickly become to Mia, and the thought worried him.
Snuggled tightly under Grace’s other arm, Mia’s head rested on her chest. No doubt his child listened to Grace’s slow and steady heartbeat, finding comfort in her sleep. Like mother and child.
The distant ache grew stronger. Mia had missed out on this special kind of closeness with her birth mother … and that was all Christie had turned out to be.
The sight of Grace and Mia entwined like family nearly bowled him over.
He combed fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what to do. Wake them up or enjoy the snapshot in time a moment or two longer? Because if he followed his gut, for the sake of Mia’s already broken heart, this couldn’t happen again.
He’d let Grace creep under his skin, and as overwhelmingly appealing as she was, especially considering her easygoing relationship with his daughter, he knew it wasn’t worth the risk of letting her into his life. It wasn’t worth the risk to his heart, or his daughter’s. Theirs had both been thrashed by Christie.
It was his responsibility to guard his daughter from ever having her heart broken again. When she grew up, she was sure to get enough of that on her own. For now, at least, he could protect her.
His gaze drifted to the photo of his ex-wife—the woman who was nothing more than a stranger to him now—wondering why he even kept it around. Yet he knew it was for Mia’s sake, when she asked about her mommy. Maybe he should put it away. Maybe she’d quit asking and finally forget. Maybe he could prevent the inevitable day when his daughter asked, “Why did Mom leave us, Daddy?”
He had to protect Mia from being hurt and disappointed by a mother figure. Thankfully, the child was too young to remember the devastating blow when Christie had failed to bond with her own baby and made her choice to leave. Both of them.
Grace must have sensed Mitchell’s presence, as she stretched and opened one of her eyes. Without a word, in consideration to his daughter, she raised a hand in greeting and mouthed, “Hi,” not the least bit self-conscious about being caught asleep in the intimate snoozing embrace.
“Hi,” he whispered, moving closer, putting his doctor’s bag on the table. “Nice nap?”
She smiled. “Very.”
Mia stirred.
Mitch rushed to the couch and picked her up. “I’ll put her to bed before she wakes up and gets her second wind. Then w—I’d be up all night.” He’d almost slipped and said “we’d”.
Grace followed him down the hall and into Mia’s room, rushing ahead to pull back the bedcovers in preparation for his girl. What a team.
&nbs
p; He was so used to doing everything for Mia himself, it felt as though Grace was invading his territory. Except he kind of liked her helping out, and wasn’t that how most parents did things? Together? He’d never had the luxury of that. What must it be like?
He watched his daughter hunker down on the mattress, burrowing back into a deep and peaceful sleep as he tucked the covers beneath her chin.
Grace had tiptoed out already, as if understanding he needed this special moment to say good-night to his daughter. His daughter. He kissed her forehead lightly, marveling, as he always did, at her preciousness.
Grace deserved an explanation about why he guarded his baby girl so carefully. Maybe one day he’d tell her. What was that old saying—there was no time like the present?
After closing the door except for a crack so the hall light could filter in, as was their habit, he walked back to the living room, thinking how best to approach the subject.
Grace sat on the couch, looking at him expectantly. She seemed to sense his every mood change. “Everything okay? Did she go back to sleep?”
“Like a rock. Thanks.” Nervous energy caused his hand to shoot to his scalp again, and though he tried to stop them, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, tunneling through his hair.
“I hope you don’t mind the messy kitchen, but we baked.”
“You baked?”
“Rice Krispies treats. Not really baking, I suppose, but something a five-year-old can help with.”
He grinned. He’d left Grace alone with his daughter for two hours and they’d baked together. He should have known she’d put the time to good use. “I hope you saved me some.” He loved the marshmallow, butter and cereal bars, hadn’t had one in years.
“Of course. Mia set aside a plate of them just for you.”
The thoughtfulness of his daughter never ceased to impress him. Now, if he only knew what to do about Grace.
“How was your patient?” She must have picked up on the shift in his mood, assuming it was about the post-op issue. Why would she suspect the change was about her getting too close to Mia, when he’d done nothing but encourage their interaction.
“Fine. She’d bled a bit more than expected, had loads of edema, and it freaked out the nurse. She thought she might be hemorrhaging.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious.”
Her eyes drifted around the dim room then onto the picture of his wife. He understood that picture—right in the middle of his living room—didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like she could avoid looking at it.
He walked over and picked it up. “I suppose you’re wondering what happened to Mia’s mother.”
“I won’t lie. The thought has crossed my mind.” She tried to smooth over her reaction by seeming nonchalant, and he was grateful. She had every right to wonder.
He sat next to her on the couch, prepared to tell her most, if not all of the story. He owed her an explanation as to why he’d flirted with her then pushed her away.
“I come from a big family, two sisters and two brothers. I’m smack in the middle. I’d always assumed I’d have lots of kids when I got married, too. But I dated a model, and the thought of having children put terror in her eyes.” He raised Christie’s picture to accentuate his point. “But I was crazy about her.” He shrugged as his gaze roamed the living room, anything to avoid looking into Grace’s eyes—as if she’d see all his darkest secrets. “I convinced her to marry me, and expected this perfect little life to play out.”
Suddenly thirsty, he got up and went into the kitchen to grab himself a beer. “Can I get you something to drink?” he called out.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He popped the lid, went back to Grace and sat next to her on the couch. He offered her a drink from his can, and surprisingly she took a sip and handed it back. When he took a swig, it occurred to him that this was as close as they’d come to touching each other.
He’d missed the closeness of being with a woman. Grace looked on with inquisitive eyes, her lower legs tucked under her hip. Though normally guarded about his sad and warped tale, he knew he owed her some kind of explanation for his situation—single dad with child and a nanny, mother not in the picture.
“When I brought up the subject of kids, my wife, Christie, kept putting it off. She kept modeling.”
Mitch took another drink, gave Grace a serious glance. She sat transfixed, completely ready for him to open up and tell her the rest of the story. He didn’t plan to tell her everything, because the whole story was too bizarre, just enough to satisfy her curiosity.
She reached for his can and took another drink. The act of sharing a beer felt more intimate than it should, but it had been so long since he’d sat in his home with someone other than his daughter on the couch. He wanted more from Grace than she could feasibly give, especially if they were to remain colleagues. Therefore, there could never be more. End of story.
He played with the threads on her thin long-sleeved sweater. Maybe if he explained why he was so cautious about letting people close to him and Mia, she’d finally explain why she kept herself covered from neck to knees all the time. And what she’d been having Leo fix for her.
“So Christie turned twenty-nine. She swore thirty was breathing down her neck the very next day. She wanted Botox. It was ridiculous. She didn’t need it. We started fighting about it.” He sent Grace a cutting glance. Waited for her reaction. She played it safe and schooled her expression, obviously wanting him to continue his story. “She said everyone who modeled used it.”
He glanced at the photograph, the last one he had of her before she’d started having procedures done. It still ached to think of the transition she’d made in her appearance, how he no longer recognized her.
“Then she got pregnant. I was ecstatic. Thought she’d get over that bit about striving for perfection in her looks.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Boy, was I wrong. You’d have thought she’d been given a death sentence with the pregnancy. I honestly feared for our baby’s life in the beginning.”
Grace reached across and squeezed his knee in empathy. He patted her hand in thanks, enjoying the warmth of her skin. Though that wasn’t the reason he’d opened up to Grace. He’d never use his sad tale to manipulate another woman. No. He genuinely liked and cared about Grace, and it was the strangest feeling.
“As the months went by, she couldn’t cope with her body. Fell completely apart. I had to fly my two sisters down from San Francisco to L.A. to take shifts watching her, so she would eat and not harm herself or our baby. Hell, I wanted a healthy baby. She had to gain weight. That’s how it works, how things are intended.”
He drank more and handed the can with the last part of the beer to her. Surprisingly, she finished it with a mini-chugalug, obviously not wanting to steer his story off course or cause another delay.
“Christie insisted on a bikini cut C-section. She wanted our baby delivered as soon as feasibly possible so she wouldn’t have to get any bigger.”
He gave her a doleful smile, and she returned an encouraging look. Go on, her eyes seemed to prod. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her sympathetic blue gaze. Her fingers were folded and touching her chin as she leaned against the couch and listened intently. She looked like an angel with dark brown bangs and such kissable lips.
“Everything changed for me once Mia was born. But not for Christie. She didn’t even try to bond with our daughter. All she wanted was liposuction. We hired our first nanny then, and Christie simply handed over our child. I did as much as I could for our Mia, but I had to work, too. Sometimes long hours. I took off a couple of months in the beginning and got pretty damn good at the daddy stuff. Christie just didn’t show any interest. She was self-centered and aloof. I worried how it might affect Mia emotionally later on in life.”
He got that stomach cramp he always felt when he thought about Christie. On reflex, his palm drifted to his abdomen and rubbed. Grace took his hand and laced her fingers through his. He
squeezed back, and the cramp let up the slightest bit.
He inhaled a ragged breath as the worst of the story was ahead. “Our marriage barely limped on, but I married for better or worse, and I’d taken those vows seriously. Most days I thought I was a fool, but …”
“You’re an honorable man, Mitch. Don’t ever beat yourself up for that,” she said, squeezing his fingers more, making him want to pull her close and hug her for understanding so well. But he kept his distance.
“All I did was focus on Mia and work. Christie just seemed to drift out of our lives like a cold breeze. Then one day she walked out on us. Just picked up and left.”
Grace covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God.”
“Crazy, right? I couldn’t believe it.” The betrayal had cut deeper than anything he’d ever experienced in life. At first, some days he hadn’t thought he could breathe or live, but he’d had a daughter to look after—to be there for. He’d forced himself to carry on. Mia was his saving grace.
His eyes connected with Grace’s. Could she be his other saving grace—from loneliness? Would he be crazy to let another beautiful woman close? Suddenly, everything seemed so confusing.
“Is that what brought you to the Hunter Clinic?” Her sweetly husky voice brought him back to the moment.
“In a roundabout way.” He clutched the empty can and slowly but consistently strangled and smashed the aluminum. “I’d had it with all the Hollywood fakery, you know? The last thing I wanted my daughter to do was grow up surrounded by that and become superficial and self-centered like her mother. I want Mia to always know she is beautiful to me both inside and out, no matter what the blasted mirror or society says.”
She gave another empathetic nod. God, he wanted to kiss her. Totally inappropriate at the moment, but there you go; he wanted those lips, the ones he’d been obsessing about since their night in the pod. Keep on track, Cooper.
“I’d heard about the Hunter Clinic and contacted Leo. He invited me to join. California law says you can’t take a child over a state line without the consent of the other parent, let alone to another country.” He gave a wry laugh. “I don’t know why I was surprised when Christie didn’t contest my plans. She didn’t so much as lift a perfectly arched eyebrow over it. Never even came to say one last goodbye to Mia. She simply didn’t give a damn.”
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