He brushed her off, the mark of a man who had little regard for women outside of groupies, and then only because he wanted sex with them, and engaged Mitch’s attention. “I’ll think about it. Get back to you.”
One moment a hot doc, the next she didn’t exist.
The Hunter Clinic was known for professionalism, and though Grace wanted to knee the guy in his groin, she stood her ground and let Mitch take over.
“Oh, first I guess we’d better put an eye patch on you,” he said. “Get our story straight about you having a small tear in the retina and needing our help in the ophthalmology room.” He patted his pockets then glanced at Grace. “Do you have the prepared statement from Lexi?”
Mitch strode to the stainless-steel supply cart in the middle of the otherwise posh consultation area, found an eye patch then used tape to hold it in place on Davy’s face.
While he did that, she made a quick scan through her emails. There it was, the PR statement. “Give me a moment and I’ll print it out.” With the click of a finger from her laptop, the copier in the corner of the room came to life and spit out one page, a short and sweet statement. She retrieved it and brought it to Mitch as he put the finishing touches on Davy’s eye patch.
“There, you look like a regular pirate. Now, repeat after me. I had a small tear in my retina and needed laser surgery to repair it.”
Davy refused—what else was new?—but nodded. “Got it.”
Mitch took the proffered statement and escorted Davy out to where Grace assumed Davy’s people waited, but not before passing her a look loaded with meaning.
She could barely take it.
Their kiss came clearly to mind, and her body reacted as if it was actually in his embrace again, feeling his lips pressed to hers. She forced herself to stop the silliness. It simply could never be between them. The only kind of partners they’d ever be was at work in the operating room.
But even seeing him only as a colleague, she still could have grabbed and kissed Mitch when he’d come to her aid just now. He’d given her opinion some thought and apparently agreed with her. The man respected her opinion. Surely there was a point where any good surgeon drew the line.
Her heart lurched as she thought of Mitch standing up for her. She smiled at his quirky sense of humor—Davy as a pirate, hardly!
Mitch Cooper was appealing on far, far too many levels.
The room seemed suddenly buzzing with thoughts and questions and feelings with which she wasn’t ready to deal. The lights were too bright, and the room felt hot and stuffy with leftover Cumberbatch soiling the air. She had to get out.
With Mitch and Davy gone, she took the opportunity to close her laptop, grab her purse and slip out the side door, heading straight for home.
Yes, she was a coward for not sticking around to tell Mitch in person how much she appreciated him backing her up. But the thought of what might happen after last night’s passion and the possibility of letting Mitch get closer again tonight scared her. What if she opened up to him, had sex with him, and he pretended her scars didn’t bother him? When she knew with all her heart they would. How could they not?
His lies and pity would rip her wide open.
The paparazzi at the back of the building were out of control. Cameras flashed and questions flew their way the instant the bodyguard opened the alley exit to the clinic. The chauffeur made a beeline for the limo and the bodyguard protected Davy from as many clean shots at picture-taking as possible.
“Why’d you come here tonight, Davy?”
When there was no response they turned to Mitchell.
“Tell us why Davy was here, Doctor.”
Mitch glanced at Davy, being rushed to his car, not saying a word. He decided to run with the preplanned script from Lexi. “Mr. Cumberbatch suffered an eye injury and needed some laser surgery to mend a small tear in his retina.” There was more to read, about how the Hunter Clinic hoped they’d fixed his injury to his satisfaction, blah, blah, blah, but before they could ask another question, Mitch turned for the door. At that exact moment another flurry of flashing lights indicated the limo was leaving the premises.
Mitch looked back and watched Davy Cumberbatch drive off in his white limousine, with one over-enthusiastic gossip rag photographer hanging from the bumper.
“Get the hell off the car, you idiot.” The bodyguard had stood up in the middle of the sky light and flipped the finger at the reporters. More cameras flashed. No doubt there’d be plenty of pictures for the gossip rags tomorrow. The limo sped up and left the alley.
Mitch closed the heavy door tight, bolted and locked it.
He still seethed with the way Davy had brushed off Grace’s hard work. She had state-of-the-art computer programs, computer software that he certainly wouldn’t be able to operate without weeks of tutorials. She must have spent hours and hours putting the presentation together. Yes, she’d been blunt with Davy, but kind; the guy had acted like a spoiled brat. He’d like to throttle the old rocker, but had simply stood and waved goodbye like a moron in the night.
Mitch made his way back inside, eager to see Grace again, wanting nothing more than to apologize for his entire gender. What an ass that guy was. When their eyes had first met before the meeting had begun he’d almost come out of his seat with desire. It had been years and years since he’d felt that way about a woman … not since his ex-wife.
He swallowed back the longing for Grace, especially after the way she’d made her quick getaway last night. She’d literally run off into the night, phone to ear, calling a cab and walking toward the corner crossing. He’d wanted to run after her, but hadn’t wanted to leave Mia alone in the house. He’d called out to her, begged her to come back, but she’d refused.
“I’m sorry,” she’d said. “I need to go.”
From inside his house he’d watched for over ten minutes as she’d paced beneath a streetlamp, until finally the cab had arrived, and he’d been able to breathe properly again.
Their kisses had been filled with passion, reaching so deep inside him he’d almost felt they’d joined together. Now all he could think about was finishing the act they’d played out with kisses, only this time using the rest of their bodies.
He’d wanted her with every cell crying out for her mercy, and was almost positive she’d wanted him, too. But for some reason she’d lost it, pulled back. Damn, after the sad story he’d told her, could he blame her?
Unless she was afraid of being close to a man.
Maybe he could change her mind.
He rushed down the last few steps of the hallway. He grabbed the handle and opened the door … only to find the room empty.
Disappointment cut through him, triggering anger. Twice now she’d run off to avoid him. If he hadn’t kissed her, felt how deeply she’d responded to him, he might think she wanted nothing to do with him. But he’d been there with her, kissing like the world might end tomorrow. Her heated response had stirred up the hunger he’d suppressed for years, making him lust after her until his bed sheets were damp and twisted from restless sleep.
He wouldn’t take no for an answer without a really good reason, and she couldn’t keep avoiding him for ever. When she finally stopped running from him, he’d be there, waiting to take her to his bed.
He flipped off the lights, locked up the room and left the Hunter Clinic as fast as humanly possible. He planned to go directly to Grace’s apartment to confront her, force her to see how right they were for each other, see where it led.
On the way to his car his cell phone rang. It was Roberta. Mia refused to go to bed until Daddy read her a story and tucked her in.
Grace dried her hair, the noise of the dryer helping to drown out her thoughts. She’d imagined Mitch during the entire shower, wondered what it would be like to be naked with him, to be touched by him. All over.
This had to stop. She could no more expose herself to Mitch than he could pretend her scars didn’t exist. She forced a look in the mirror at her chest
and arms with webs of white and pink marbling scars where the acid had eaten away her skin. She’d lost count of the number of skin grafts she’d had to endure those first few years. The pain, both external and internal.
What man would want to make love to breasts like hers? How would the roughened skin on her arms feel to Mitch’s touch? Could he want her sexually after seeing everything?
She looked away, put on her robe and distracted herself by continuing to blow-dry her hair.
It never failed. Why did the phone ring whenever she used the dryer? Like right now. She wasn’t going to fall for it because it would only be another false alarm. It always was.
On she blew and brushed her hair, forcing the waves into submission.
When she was done, she put special aloe-and-vitamin-E-extract lotion across her neck, chest and arms, especially around the recently touched-up section at the base of her neck and collarbone. Then she used her favorite vanilla-and-lavender cream on her legs. Feeling fresh after a long day at the hospital, she walked to the kitchen to make some herbal tea. She put the kettle on to boil and put a pyramid-shaped tea bag into her favorite yellow-flowered cup, then started shuffling around in the cupboard for something to nibble on.
The intercom sounded. She jumped.
A burst of nerves warned she couldn’t get away from Mitch that easily. He was probably upset about how she’d pressed Davy Cumberbatch to be realistic with his cosmetic surgery. He’d probably only backed her up to help save face for the clinic, but had come here to have words about her performance at the clinic.
Or he was here about last night—and the passion they’d shared. The thought released pent-up tingles across the very skin she’d just loaded with cream.
After stomping out the quick desire to take the coward’s way out by not answering, she padded across the carpet. She was a fully grown woman who needed to confront her issues head on. The list of reasons she would never become intimate with Mitch started with the fact he was still in love with his ex-wife, included her scars, and ended with the very major point that they worked together.
“Who is it?” She prayed she was wrong, and it wasn’t Mitch but someone else.
“It’s Mitch.”
So much for prayers. She wasn’t dressed. “You should have called first.”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
The damn hairdryer. “Can you give me a minute? I’m just out of the bath.”
“Let me in.”
He sounded nothing like the man she’d grown to know and adore. All playfulness was gone from his voice. He sounded angry. She had botched things up with Cumberbatch.
“Please,” he finally added.
Without saying a word, she pressed the door release, heard it buzz and him quickly enter her building. She flipped up the collar and lapels on her thick white robe, tied the sash around her waist, rushed to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, throwing it over her shoulders, clutching it tightly to her throat.
She didn’t need to be dressed to tell Mitch to forget they’d ever kissed. Or stare him in the eye and tell him she’d treat her patients the way she saw fit, no matter how famous they were. Whichever scenario played out, she was ready. She double-knotted the sash on her robe and for security’s sake went immediately back to clutching the towel.
His rapid knock at the door forced her out of the bathroom. She needed to get it together before she faced him. Two feet from the door she stopped and took a deep inhale, a cleansing breath. She held it for a beat and felt her pulse slow the slightest bit. Stay calm. Act like nothing has happened. Just another day on the job.
She swung open the door. “Cooper! What brings you here?”
He looked her over, his lips pursed, eyes consuming her. She needed another cleansing breath, quickly!
He didn’t bother to answer her, just walked into her apartment like he lived there. Maybe he’d been taking lessons from Cumberbatch.
“Well?” she said.
“Well, what?”
“I asked what brings you here?”
“I would have been here earlier if I hadn’t gotten a call from Roberta.”
“The nanny? Is something wrong with Mia?” Her sudden concern reminded her how much she’d come to care for the child.
“Just a minor catastrophe.” For the first time since she’d opened the door he showed a glimpse of his usual self. “Couldn’t find her favorite book for bedtime.”
“The Tale of Misty Do-Right in the Battle of the Wrongs?”
He nodded. “You remember?”
“How could I forget such great literature?”
He smiled, studied her more. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“You’re out of your mind. I’ve just gotten out of the bath and my hair is a fright.”
He grabbed the wrist she’d waved around to brush off his statement. “My eyesight is perfect.” The hunger in his eyes almost made her believe him.
She took back her hand. “Stop it, please.”
He hesitated then shifted back to serious mode. “Look, we need to talk.”
“About?” She couldn’t manage to hold her robe tight enough but didn’t want him to notice her white knuckles, so she lightened her grip.
“Us.”
The kettle had boiled and rather than respond to him she dashed to the kitchen, pretending she hadn’t heard what he’d said. Us? Oh, no.
“Would you like some tea?” she called over her shoulder, but hadn’t needed to raise her voice after all because he was right there, standing behind her.
“No.”
She begged her mind to stay focused and her hands to function as she poured steaming hot water into her cup. “I really need to thank you for sticking up for me with that vile Cumberbatch earlier.”
Silence.
“Did I blow it for the clinic?” She peeked over her shoulder, saw a man who wasn’t interested in office chitchat, a man who looked as serious as hell.
“Why did you push me away last night? Why did you leave?”
She used the granite counter for balance before slowly turning round. Nothing like getting right to the point. Tell him the truth. “Because it doesn’t make sense to get involved with a man who’s still in love with his ex-wife.”
Okay, so that was half of the truth.
Disbelief twisted his brows and wrinkled his nose. “How could you possibly think I still love my ex-wife after what I’ve told you?”
“Have you dated since moving to England?”
A sheepish look passed over his exquisitely handsome features. “Yes. I made the mistake of getting involved with one of the nurses at the Hunter Clinic a few months after I arrived. Things didn’t work out. She eventually changed jobs.”
“And that was how long ago?”
“Look, I’ve dated a few women since then, nothing serious, but nevertheless. The thing is, I don’t want to confuse Mia.”
She swallowed the ball of emotion forming in her throat. “You still keep your ex-wife’s picture out, and I saw how you looked at her. I was sure I saw love in your eyes.”
“For a person who doesn’t exist anymore! She didn’t want our daughter, remember? How can I love a monster like that?”
“She’s not a monster, Mitch, she’s a broken person. We’re all damaged in some ways.” She glanced at the angry scar peeking out from the sleeve of her robe and quickly covered it.
He shook his head and gazed at her with a pained expression. “You don’t know the whole story. I thought I’d told you enough to make you understand. Obviously, I didn’t go far enough.”
This was her chance to get to the heart of the issue. If his ex-wife was so evil, she had to know. “Then why do you keep her picture out?”
“For Mia’s sake. A child needs to know who her parents are. Christie is her mother.”
She took a moment to engage his eyes. All she wanted to do was level with him, he deserved her honesty. “Okay, but maybe you’re still hoping she’ll come back, be the mother Mia ne
eds, the wife you still pine for.”
Hadn’t he alluded to that the very first night they’d met at the Eye, after they’d gone to the bar then he’d seen her off in the taxi? “If it was a different time in my life. If circumstances were different. The thing is … it wouldn’t be fair.”
It wouldn’t be fair because he still loved his ex-wife.
“God, you are so wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sounded frustrated, and a little angry. “Christie isn’t the woman in that picture anymore. She’s a totally different person. Some freakish creation …” he used his hands as if juggling balls searching for the right description “… from a surgeon’s scalpel.”
Grace shook her head, not wanting to understand. Had someone cut up Christie’s face?
“Just before she got pregnant, she started having little cosmetic procedures. Laser treatments on tiny old chicken-pox scars, Botox injections, skin bleaching—you name it, she wanted to try it.”
Mitch walked to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair and sat, resting on his elbows. Grace leaned her back against the counter and sipped her tea, prepared for a long story and eager to hear every last bit of it.
“I told her she was perfect just the way she was, but she didn’t see it. Every fine line was blown out of proportion to being her death sentence as a model. She wanted me to give her a nose job. When I refused, she wanted me to refer her to the best plastic surgeons, and when I fought her about having rhinoplasty, she snuck off to my partner.”
Grace could imagine how infuriating it would be to deal with an already beautiful woman who wanted nothing more than to be even more beautiful. Especially if he was married to her.
Mitch stared at the tiled floor, as if reliving a horrible secret. He alternated rubbing his knuckles with his palms, first one hand than the other. She didn’t know how he could possibly talk with his jaw muscles bunched so tightly.
“She kept sneaking off to Rick.” He looked up, realizing she might need an explanation. “My business partner and best friend, by the way.” He tossed her another quick glance loaded with hurt and defeat.
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