Winning Back His Doctor Bride

“He must trust you.” He forced the words to sound impartial.

“It’s not that.” She toyed with the clasp of her purse for a second or two. “I’m not seeing anyone. I told you I’d broken up with Tyler.”

She had told him. But people changed their minds.

James stared at her for some clue as to what might have gone wrong between them.

“It was me,” she continued. “This time.”

Said as if she needed him to know that James wasn’t the only one capable of backing out of an unwanted relationship.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry for the way he’d treated her? Or that his past actions might be affecting the way she navigated current-day relationships?

“Don’t be. I don’t believe in stringing someone along when I know how the story is going to end.”

The barb sank deep. Because that’s exactly what he had done to Mila. Strung her along, even when he’d known that he was eventually going to break things off. Both because of Cindy and the bombshell she’d dropped, and because of his own father’s response to it. He couldn’t follow in the award-winning actor and egotistical bastard’s footsteps. He would not father a child that he would be no good at nurturing. Or throw money at the mother of that child to make the whole thing go away. So James had done neither, deciding to break it off with Mila and do the right thing by Cindy. Only it had all been a lie.

Mila’s dreamy words the last time they’d slept together about starting a family had hit him at the worst possible moment. Their courtship had been such a whirlwind affair that children had never been discussed. And then Cindy had dropped her bombshell and almost immediately afterward Mila had wistfully expressed her own desire for children.

His reaction had confirmed what he’d believed about himself all along: that he truly was like his celebrity parents, who had left him and Freya to the mercy of a string of nannies. He was no nurturer.

Even his attempts at standing in for his parents when it came to his sister had ended in disaster. He’d been overbearing and overprotective. In some ways he blamed himself for the eating disorder Freya had developed, wondering if it was because he’d been too controlling about what she did...who she went out with. He sure hadn’t practiced what he’d preached back then, because he’d gone out with scads of women who’d meant nothing to him. Including Cindy.

Hell, he’d been the worst possible role model for her.

His regrets over his mistakes with Freya and the scare of that unplanned pregnancy with Cindy had given him a fear of having children of his own. It had gotten so bad that he had stopped treating children in his medical practice, referring them instead to colleagues. Which had left him treating insipid socialites and celebrities. People very much like his parents—a peck on each cheek, a little nip, a little tuck, and they were good to go.

Only he’d grown tired of it all. Weary in a way that he didn’t understand.

“Drinks, sir?”

He blinked back to the present as the server handed them each a menu.

Maybe Mila had been lost in her own thoughts as well because she wasn’t staring at him like he had two heads. He waited as she asked for a glass of wine, and then he did the same, adding an order of stuffed mushrooms—something he remembered her loving. Although why he felt the need to do anything other than toss the pictures across the table and eat a quick bite was beyond him. Except he probably wasn’t going to get to sit across a table from Mila Brightman ever again. And maybe a part of him wanted to relive the days he’d left behind. Now that he knew she didn’t have someone waiting at home for her, that urge had grown stronger.

The server left to get their drinks, and Mila propped her elbows on the table, staring at him. “So how does this work, exactly?”

He frowned. Had she read his thoughts? The idea of taking up where they’d left off flashed through his head. Somehow he doubted that’s what she meant.

“How does what work?”

“The pictures. Do you want me to look through them before we eat? Or after we’re done? Just how bad are they that we’re even sitting here?”

Ah...so she had realized something was up when he’d asked her out to dinner. “They’re not bad. I just...”

He hadn’t expected to have to explain his reasoning. He tried again. “I just thought we should go through them without an audience. That might be hard at the clinic or even at Bright Hope.”

Especially with a few of the more intimate shots. And Morgan had seemed to be quite adept at catching them at just the wrong moment. A woman scorned who was doing her best to embarrass him? Or was it inevitable that he would see the pictures through a different filter than other people?

Mila’s lips curved. “Did she catch you crawling under that desk or something? I can see how you might want to hide that particular shot.”

He laughed. “I take it the view wasn’t all that flattering from where you were standing.”

“Let’s just say it was interesting.”

Interesting.

He couldn’t be sure with the low lighting in the restaurant, but he thought maybe a bit of color had seeped into her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but follow this trail just a little further. Especially since he could picture several office desk scenarios he wouldn’t have minded exploring once upon a time. “Interesting good? Or interesting bad?”

“I think the photographer thought it was good, that’s for sure.”

Had Mila noticed the other woman’s interest? He thought he’d made it pretty clear that she was there on a professional basis only. He hadn’t been interested.

“And you. What did you think?” Okay, so this was pursuing it a little too far.

“I think maybe we should stick to the subject at hand.”

Not exactly a denial. More like an evasion. Which meant maybe he wasn’t the only one who was struggling to keep their old relationship where it belonged: firmly in the past. But he’d better make more of an effort, or he was going to find himself in a very uncomfortable place.

“Fair enough. Why don’t we sort through them now, then?”

* * *

Mila swallowed as she shuffled through the sheaf of glossy photos that James had brought out of his leather attaché case. Now she saw why he’d wanted to bring her to a place where the tables were private and the lights were low.

Even with the dim lighting in the restaurant these shots made something in her belly come to life. These were not the kind of publicity pictures one wanted for the grand opening of a charity clinic. At least, not some of them.

One of the photos in front of the mural did more than light a fire in her gut. It made her face heat. Because she and James were gazing at each other, and while she couldn’t exactly read his expression, hers was filled with dread—with a side order of longing. A longing that had made one of her hands stretch toward him a bit? Coaxing him to move closer to her like Morgan had asked? Lord, she hoped not.

Maybe she was simply gesturing toward something in the mural. But she didn’t think so.

She flipped through a couple more, and then paused once again. James was watching her as she said something to Avery, a slight smile on his face, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress slacks. He looked so endearingly at ease that it made her chest ache. It was as if she’d been sucked through a time warp and was looking through a window to the past.

Their past.

She could remember glancing toward him and catching him with this exact same expression. As if he loved watching her go about life.

Swallowing, she looked up at him. “Is there anything in here that can be salvaged?”

She had no idea if there was a software program invented that could change these pictures into something they weren’t. And it made her feel a little queasy that the emotions she felt on the inside were so very visible on the outside. At least in these shots.

But then again, hadn’t Morgan caught James off guard in them as well?

“Some of them aren’t as bad. But I wanted us to decide that together.”

“I can see why.”

Their server returned with their appetizers and wine. Mila handed the photos back to James for safekeeping. Or was it simply so she didn’t have to look at them anymore this evening? She had a thought. “Maybe you can come to Bright Hope once we finish up here and we can spread them out on the reception desk.”

“That sounds like a plan. Speaking of Bright Hope, did you get the glass in that window replaced?”

“Yes, someone came the day after your visit. It’s as good as new.”

“No other attempted break-ins?”

She paused in cutting one of her mushrooms. “It was just an accident. The police seem to think so as well.”

Was it her imagination, or had James just relaxed in his seat? Maybe. She knew how relieved she’d been when the officers had said it looked like a rock kicked up by a car or something. There had been construction on that street not so very long ago.

Popping the morsel into her mouth and chewing, she studied the changes in James over the past six years. His hair seemed even more golden than it had before. From spending time in the California sun?

He’d once been an avid sailor, his sleek schooner making the trek back and forth to Catalina Island every chance he’d had. Hours on his boat would explain his deep tan. And she loved the way the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were lighter than the surrounding skin, as if he smiled more while out on the water than he did at other times. He had when they’d been together, anyway.

She swallowed, trying to nip her speculations in the bud. It was none of her business what he did or didn’t do. Not anymore.

“What are you thinking about?”

Time to scramble. She didn’t dare stray too far from the truth, because he’d read it in her face if she told him a complete lie. “Do you still go out on the water?”

One side of his mouth twisted into a half smile. “Every chance I get.”

“On the Mystic Waters?”

His smile slid away this time. “Yes, I still have her. I can’t imagine giving her up for anything.”

Unlike Mila, who he’d been able to give up with a snap of his fingers. It stung to know that his boat had been with him longer than she had. Since they’d actually spent quite a bit of time on the schooner during their romance, the images it brought up were unbearably intimate. For all her discomfort about displays of wealth, the boat was one place she’d felt at home. Maybe because James had gone to great lengths to put her at ease.

It normally took four hours to sail from Los Angeles to the port of Avalon on the island of Catalina, but it had often taken them even longer, because James would stop every time she’d squealed in delight over some new sight, whether it had been porpoises trying to catch a ride on the boat’s wake, or something else. And when he’d taken her below...

Her eyes shut for a second or two before reopening and finding him watching her.

He knew. Knew exactly what she was picturing. Damn him!

“The boats I spent my time on were a little different from your schooner.”

“Rubbing my nose in the fact that you’ve given back more to humanity than I have?”

No. She wasn’t. And she had no idea why she’d spouted off like some self-righteous prig. Maybe because it still hurt to know how easily he could toss her aside.

It seemed like every time she’d trusted someone, they’d broken her heart. Her aunt. The men she’d dated in the past. James.

His betrayal had been the worst of all of them.

But he’d gone to bat for her with the board of directors at The Hollywood Hills Clinic. That meant something. He might have founded the medical center, but that didn’t mean he made all its decisions. Still, his support was probably the main reason they’d deigned to back a joint venture with Bright Hope.

Freya, as part-owner of the clinic, had helped push it through, she had no doubt. But James was the driving force, the one who’d made sure it happened. Who’d helped make sure disadvantaged children and their parents got the help they needed.

And the fact that she’d just wiped any trace of a smile off his face made her feel sick. When had she turned into such a shrew?

Bracing herself for the impact, she set her fork down and reached across to touch his hand.

“You’ve given back plenty, James. I remember you working on that little boy whose face had been damaged in that car—”

“I don’t do that kind of work anymore.” If anything, his jaw tightened even more. “I’ve gone back to traditional practice, leaving post-traumatic facial reconstruction to...other doctors.”

She sat back in her seat, shock washing over her. He was a gifted plastic surgeon so traditional practice had to mean that he...

She truly was a fool. A fool who’d once hoped James would join her on her treks to other countries, helping those who’d been disfigured, either through birth or through some kind of violent act. So had he only pretended to be interested in those things?

Evidently. Until he’d lost interest in her. Those long intimate conversations about the future and the good they could do together had meant nothing.

Nothing.

So why had he even tried to help Bright Hope get a foothold in the Los Angeles community and beyond?

It had to be because of Freya.

Mila had allowed herself to hope that maybe...just maybe James remembered their time together fondly and had used the funding from his clinic to show her that.

The waiter had set their dinner plates in front of them at some point, without Mila really paying attention to anything except James. The thought of eating now made her gut churn.

Maybe he read something in her face. Maybe he’d just realized how his words had sounded, because he leaned forward a bit, snagging her gaze with his.

“I’m happy about what you do, Mila. Glad there are still people like you in the world.” A muscle in his throat worked. “I’m just not one of them. Those cases, they...”

He shook his head, not finishing his sentence.

“They bother you?”

Was that it? He couldn’t bear to look at what humans could do to each other?

“Yes. They bother me.” And this time Mila swore she saw a glimmer of something in his face. Compassion. Or maybe anger. She really couldn’t tell. But it beat that blank mask he tended to wear.

Except for in those pictures. Then it had slipped when she wasn’t looking. The camera had been watching, though, and it had caught him in the act.

Only Mila had no idea what any of it meant.

“They bother me too, James, but someone has to help them.”

“I know.” He lifted a shoulder. “It just can’t be me. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

The muscle in his jaw went back to its rhythmic pulse. “I’m just not cut out for it. I do better with the celebrities and socialites, like my parents. We come from the same world. We understand each other.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“Believe it. It’s true.” He picked up his fork and cut into his thick slab of steak. “Don’t let your food get cold. Très Magnifique does a wonderful job.”

Mila had ordered beef tips with mushrooms over pasta. Spearing a bite-sized piece of meat, she tried to figure out what was going on with him. Only she was no good at reading this man. Not anymore. Maybe not even when they’d been together, since she’d been so sure he’d been as happy as she had.

Except he hadn’t been. Not toward the end. He’d been pulling away, and she’d found herself becoming something she hadn’t liked. A grasping, frightened girl, trying to do her best to hold a fading romance together all by herself.

Never again.

She would never throw her heart back into the ring like she had during her time with James. Tyler had known the score and had been willing to wait for her to trust him fully. When she’d realized she’d never be able to give him what he needed, she’d broken it off.

And she missed his friendship. Especially now. Especially when confronted with a man who still had the power to wound her with the tiniest of barbs.

Like his unwillingness to work on those who so desperately needed his skills?

Yes.

But there’d been something behind his words. His relationship with his parents had always been rocky at best. And at the very end, when he’d broken off their engagement, he’d said something about his father. The loathing in his voice would have shocked her under normal circumstances but the agony she’d felt in realizing their relationship was over had drowned any other thoughts for a very long time.

Had the man threatened to cut James from his will for marrying a shy do-gooder who shunned the celebrity scene?

Somehow she couldn’t picture James caring one way or the other. He’d made his own way in the world, his wealthy clientele willing to pay exorbitant prices to be ensconced in the luxury and prestige of his clinic and be catered to by some of the best physicians in the world. From cardiac surgery to face-lifts, from cradle to geriatrics, the medical center gave the finest care available.

She’d never understood what had happened between them, other than she hadn’t been enough to make him happy. And she’d been too angry to ask if his surface explanation—that they weren’t right for each other—was the truth. After discovering what her aunt had done, she’d decided she was never going to try to pry the truth out of anyone ever again. They could either tell her or not, but if they chose the latter, she was done with them.

Forcing herself to swallow, she pasted a smile on her face. “Thank you. You were right, the meal was delicious.” Not that she’d actually tasted much of it beyond the first few bites. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Would you like coffee?”

She hesitated. James had always liked to finish his meal with a nice strong java, no matter what the time. Caffeine had never seemed to affect him. Neither had anything else. But she suddenly wanted out of the intimate confines of the restaurant and to finish this back on her own turf, where she knew what to do to protect her mind from stray thoughts...and her heart from stray emotions. She decided to go with escape.

“I have a small apartment above the clinic. I can make us a pot of coffee if you want, and we can go over those pictures.”

He frowned. “You live in the clinic?”

“Not in the clinic, no. Like I said, I have a small studio apartment above it. It saves on transportation costs since I don’t have to drive to work.”

And it also made it easy to take those middle-of-the-night emergency calls, since all she had to do was throw on some scrubs and walk down a flight of stairs to get to her clinic.

“Were you there when that window was broken?”

No, she’d been in the process of breaking things off with Tyler that night. It had taken her almost three weeks to get the window repaired. Something she wasn’t going to tell James, because she had the strange sensation he wouldn’t be happy about that. Why he would even care, though, was beyond her.

“I was out that night. But it turned out to be nothing. No big drama. No one was hiding inside the clinic.”

His frown deepened. “You went in by yourself?”

No. Tyler had gone in and checked the place out, even though she could tell he’d been crushed by their breakup. She’d tried to take a taxi home, but he’d insisted on driving her.

He was a good man, a simple man with simple tastes, and Mila wished with all her heart that she could have fallen in love with him. But you couldn’t control who you loved. She’d found that out the hard way—had mooned after James, even as she’d flown off to the jungles of Brazil to get away from her pain.

And it had worked. She’d come back a changed person. At least she’d thought she had. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“No, I had someone with me.”

James swallowed, if that jerky movement of his throat could be called a swallow.

“I’m glad.” He called for the check and slipped a credit card into the padded folder. “I’ll take you up on that coffee, if the offer is still open. It’ll give us a chance to pick a couple of pictures and get them to the marketing department in time for the opening in a few weeks.”

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