Annie O'Neil

London's Most Eligible Doctor


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      But when it came to Lina? There was something telling him she might be worth breaking unwritten rules for.

      She’d deftly managed to unearth his dry sense of humor and, as it had turned out, she had Eastern European drollness down to a T. Her impersonation of the waitress going all googly-eyed over the puppy had had him in stitches. Not that he hadn’t tried to hide it from her. He was going to be her boss after all and there were boundaries. Not that he’d managed to wrangle a “yes” out of her. If she did take the job, he’d have to remember that would be the extent of their relationship. A working one. He didn’t do personal. And he definitely didn’t do personal at work.

      So why on earth had he invited her out to dinner? Not to mention let her name his puppy! Correction—the puppy. The puppy he was going to find a home for as soon as humanly possible.

      He gave his head a scrub and snorted at the results. He’d given himself a grade-two once-over with his electric shaver that morning and wasn’t so sure even could be an accurate description. Yet another thing to add to the list of things that had turned his day into a catalog of disasters. Maybe he’d just wanted a bit of company for dinner. Someone who plainly didn’t want anything from him. No answers, no advice, no decisions. That suited him perfectly. If he could just shake off his attraction to her, he could go back to being cool, calm and collected Cole. The one who left his emotions at home. His parents, he thought with a bitter twist, would’ve been proud. At last! He was now just like them.

      “You look like a snake bit you in the face.”

      “Thanks and you look—” Cole stopped himself. He’d been about to say beautiful. “You look ready for a break from Igor and me.”

      Cole automatically reached for her coat and helped her slip into it. His mother had drilled that into him. “Manners don’t make a man sexist, they make a man polite, and no one ever had a quibble about ‘polite.’”

      “You’re too kind.”

       If only she knew. Cruel to be kind was more like it.

      As Lina slipped her arms into the sleeves and shrugged the coat over her shoulders, Cole was struck by how fragile her neck looked. Before they’d gone out she’d swept her hair up into some sort of semitamed twist, and a few tendrils had come loose and were brushing along the length of her neck, her shoulders. It was taking some serious control to stop himself from reaching forward and letting the pad of his thumb or the length of his finger draw down the length of her neck. He could just as easily imagine fastening a set of pearls round her neck, then dipping his lips to kiss the bare, pale swoop of skin between her neck and shoulder—

      Lina turned around abruptly, and their noses nearly collided. Cole instinctively grabbed hold of her so she could steady herself but in that moment—and it was just a moment—with her face within kissing distance, her eyes caught with his, Cole knew he’d have to channel his deepest powers of control to ensure he only saw Lina for what she was—a potential candidate for the reception job. A job she hadn’t even committed to accepting. Hey! Maybe she wouldn’t take it. It’d probably be for the best.

      She blinked. He hadn’t noticed the light color of her lashes before. He’d been too busy exploring the soft green hue of her—Hold your fire, there, soldier! No one’s going down that road just yet. Or at all.

      “Right. I’d better get Igor back to get some snuggly time. Or something like that.” He regrouped and made his voice more doctorly. “Sleep. Puppies need sleep. Lots of it.” Cole took a broad step away from Lina and scooped up the basket where—up until that very moment—Igor had actually been sleeping quite contentedly. The puppy quirked a sleepy eyebrow at him. Lina shot him a similar look for good measure. Fine. He felt like an idiot. Could we all just get a move on now?

      “Okay. I’ll see you at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, then?” She shifted her feet nervously.

      Cole didn’t bat an eyelid.

      So, she was taking the job. Bang went that solution.

      Maybe she’d hate it and this little frisson—or whatever it was that was going on between them—would be short-lived.

      “Yes. Perfect. See you then.”

      Lina bent to give Igor a little scratch on the head. “Dobranoc kochanie, Igor. Tu jest nic!”

      “What’s that?”

      Sweet nothings for the pooch? Or something about their near miss in the kissing department? He scrubbed his hand along his chin. Terrific. Now paranoia had set in. His former receptionist had better be having one hell of an elopement!

      “Nothing.” She tightened her coat round her slim frame and gave him a cursory farewell wave. “See you in the morning.”

      “You bet. With bells on!”

      She didn’t turn around. Which was for the best.

       With bells on?

      This wasn’t going to just be a trial period. It was going to be a trial by fire. And Cole knew he’d be the one racing across the burning coals.

      It was cold enough in the flat that Lina wasn’t going to risk taking her hand out from underneath the downy duvet to give herself a good old conk on the head. What had she been thinking? Accepting the job at En Pointe? Pure unadulterated crazy.

      She’d heard Cole worked miracles with his patients—but getting her to break her months-long hibernation? He hadn’t pushed her, but there was definitely a won’t-take-no aura about him. If she believed in that sort of thing. From what she’d gathered—and it wasn’t that much—he was more of a take-it-or-leave-it type. He’d seen and done a lot in his lifetime. It was impressive. And he hadn’t got where he was from sitting in his flat, moping. The train he was driving? It was ready to leave the station. If you wanted to be on the Manning Express, jump on fast!

      So she’d jumped.

      It was a matter of necessity after all. But that didn’t stop her stomach from churning. Or the odd butterfly from taking a teasing swoop and whoosh around her tummy.

      The tick-tick of the clock suddenly seemed louder than Big Ben’s bongs.

      In a matter of hours she was going from seeing no one but the postman—or his hand, at least—to answering the phone and sitting on Reception at Britain’s finest dance injury clinic.

      She chanced sticking a finger out of the duvet to give her cold nose a scratch. Once she got her first paycheck she could get the heat turned back on. Oh, to be warm! She scrunched her eyes tightly against the streetlight conveniently beaming directly into her bedroom and let herself—just for a moment—picture summertime in her childhood village. There might not have been much money coming into the homes there but it was undoubtedly a rural idyll. Vast wildflower meadows sprawling up into the foothills of the mountains. Snow-capped peaks diminishing with the heat of the summer sun. A broad river teeming with shoals of fish and a seemingly endless array of birds. Maybe when his leg healed, she, Cole and Igor could find a park somewhere …

      Maybe she, Cole and Igor nothing.

      It was work. A job. They were not a magic trio. Cole was her boss. Igor was a—a patient? And she was going to answer the telephone. That was it. Working at En Pointe was a way to pay the rent and dig herself out of this ridiculous hole of unpaid bills she’d gotten herself into. Then, maybe, she could think about what to do next. There was no point in getting attached to anything because one thing life had taught her for certain was that nothing lasted forever.

      But even as the thought crossed her mind, Lina couldn’t help a smile from tugging at her lips—or stop the small burst of pride she felt for having said yes to the job. It was a baby step. But it was a step. Her smile broadened as an image of Cole leaning against his office desk flitted across her mind’s eye. He looked all casual, relaxed and in control at the same time. Someone who was comfortable in his skin. Maybe he was a miracle worker. For the first time in a long