The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) (19 page)

Continue the story of the Three Wise Men in Charlie and Ophelia’s story,
An Ideal Present (Three Wise Men Book 2)

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“I feel as if I’ve stepped into
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
,” Ophelia said with a smile.

The doctor in the white coat paused in the process of paying for his muffin and looked over the top of his dark-framed glasses at her. His frown suggested confusion rather than amused interest, as she’d hoped.

In the background, someone was playing Eartha Kitt’s
Santa Baby
in their office. She fought the urge to sing it to him, not sure it would help her situation, and tapped the paper bag in his hand. “Since when have you ever bought a savory muffin? You always pick sweet. Blueberry or chocolate usually. Clearly, you’re a duplicate from an alien seed pod.”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the funniest joke in the world, but she’d expected a polite smile if nothing else. The frown remained in place, however. Either he thought her sense of humor severely lacking, or she’d weirded him out with her observation of his baked goods.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, admitting defeat. Grimacing, she turned on her heel and walked back through the corridors to the wing of the hospital where she worked.

Once inside, she tossed her bagel onto her desk, flopped into her chair, and stared at the clock. Ten thirty. Far too early to admit the day was doomed and go home.

She blew out a long breath. Was she really surprised the cute doctor hadn’t laughed at her joke? How long had they been meeting at the snack cart—nearly a year? And he’d barely said two words to her in all that time that didn’t involve food or the weather. Clearly, he wasn’t interested, and it was about time she took the hint.

She leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. It was irrelevant anyway. She was hardly in the right place to start seeing someone. She might have been separated from her husband since June, but it had proved surprisingly difficult to extricate herself from the emotional ties to her ex.

It didn’t help that even though Dillon had moved out, he was always at the house. She felt as if she couldn’t object—he was either seeing their daughter, which of course he had every right to do, or carrying out the occasional bit of building work to improve the house for when they put it up for sale. But she knew it was all a pretense, because he’d made it quite clear that although he was willing to let her have some time apart, he didn’t want the marriage to end.

“You’ll always be my girl,” he’d said to her only a few weeks ago when he’d tried to persuade her to go out to dinner with him for his birthday. She’d declined, but she’d felt bad about it. When he’d moved out, she’d thought it would draw a line under their marriage, and her emotions might finally be able to level out after the rollercoaster ride she’d been on for well over a year. But six months later, she still felt torn in two every time she saw him. He represented comfort and security, which were not to be sniffed at. She knew every little thing about him and in many ways that was reassuring in a relationship. He was Summer’s father, and of course Summer would prefer the two of them to stay together.  And it wasn’t as if he had some immense flaw that had forced them apart—he wasn’t an alcoholic or a gambler, he was a good looking guy, and he was decent in bed.

And yet all the million-and-one tiny reasons that had driven her to tell him it was over were still there. The jealousy, the possessiveness, the superior way he had of talking to her occasionally as if she was stupid, the nasty, cruel side of him that only came through when they argued. She knew that if she asked him to move back home, the first time they had an argument and he twisted her words the way he always did, she would regret her decision, and it would be even harder to convince him to leave a second time.

Then she thought of Summer, who missed her daddy, and her throat tightened.

She swallowed hard. She’d made the right choice, and this was one of the very few cases where she felt she had to put herself first if she didn’t want to spend another year feeling miserable and depressed. Being on her own was scary, but she shouldn’t let that be the reason she stayed with Dillon. It would be worse for Summer if her parents remained together but argued all the time.

She’d known him since they were in high school, and he’d been her first real boyfriend. For seven years, she’d compromised and negotiated her way through their marriage until she’d forgotten who she was and what she wanted. She needed time alone, a fresh start, to rediscover the Ophelia that hopefully still existed beneath the mum and wife. The last thing she needed was to start dating again.

Sighing, she lowered her hands, ready to start work. Then she inhaled sharply at the sight of the cute doctor leaning against the doorjamb, watching her.

“Oh.” She stared at him, stunned into silence. He’d never once come to this part of the hospital. And it didn’t look as if he was here on business. He didn’t march up to her desk and give her any paperwork. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even smile. He just stood there, leaning, watching her.

“I’m sorry about the alien joke,” she said, wondering if he’d come to tell her off. “It sounded funnier in my head.”

“It
was
funny,” he said. His deep, gravelly voice sent a shiver down her spine. “I just thought you were comparing me to the duplicates in the story.”

She blinked. As far as she remembered, the alien duplicates had been devoid of all human emotion. “What do you mean? Why would I compare you to them?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Well, I wasn’t. It was purely a muffin-based gag.”

He nodded, although he still didn’t smile. Then he raised the hand not holding the paper bag with his muffin. He touched the top button of his coat. Slowly, he popped it through the buttonhole, then continued down until all the buttons were undone. Once the white coat hung open, he flicked back the side of it and slid his hand into the pocket of his well-worn jeans.

Aware that her jaw had dropped at his pseudo-striptease, Ophelia closed her mouth and took the opportunity to admire him. She estimated he was maybe six-three or four, but it was the geeky scientist look he sported that tended to draw her attention rather than his height, with his dark-rimmed rectangular glasses, longish, slightly scruffy hair, and vacant look, as if he was constantly trying to calculate the value of pi to a thousand decimal places in his head.

He looked like the kind of guy who might have worn a faded T-shirt under his coat with the logo of some nerdy computer game, but to her surprise he wore one of the performance-fit All Blacks rugby tops, and it clung to an impressively flat abdomen and a broad, muscular chest. She hadn’t expected that, either. He didn’t look the type who spent hours at the gym, but there were definitely muscles showing through the clingy fabric.

His jeans were tight, too, emphasizing muscular thighs that could squeeze a girl to death. Well-worn Converses finished the look, giving him an air of casual indifference. He didn’t care what he wore, but it didn’t stop him wearing it well.

She lifted her gaze back up to his face. Now he looked slightly nonplussed, as if the reason for her lazy perusal eluded him. He had no idea how sexy he looked.

“What can I do for you?” she asked softly.

He pushed himself off the doorjamb and walked toward her desk. “I hear you’re leaving.”

He knew she was leaving?

Wait, he knew who she was?

Act cool, Ophelia
. She leaned forward, intending to rest her chin on her hand, but her elbow missed the table and she almost fell off her chair. He raised an eyebrow.

Face burning, she leaned back and cleared her throat. “Yes. Second week in January.”

To her surprise, he pushed the contents of the corner of her desk into the middle and sat on the edge. “Why?”

Ophelia tried not to stare at the jumble of spilled pens and paper clips that rested very near his muscular thigh. “I have a new part-time job nearer to my daughter’s school. She has—”

“Cystic Fibrosis, yeah I know,” he said. “How is she?”

Her jaw dropped. Until now, she’d assumed he hadn’t even known she existed. How was he aware of her daughter’s condition? “Um, she’s had a few chest infections this year, so her doctor recommended I start upping her physiotherapy sessions to three times a day. It’s just too far to travel from here to see her at lunch time.”

“Fair enough.” He looked at the ground for a moment. Then, to her surprise, he slid his glasses off, folded them, and slipped them into his top pocket before looking at her.

She inhaled slowly, entranced by his beautiful deep brown eyes. Wow, the guy was gorgeous. Yes, there was something slightly geeky about him, but after being married to a rough-and-ready builder for seven years she found his gentle manner and intelligence incredibly attractive.

He studied her face for a long moment, and she realized that whereas a blank expression on Dillon’s face tended to indicate an absence of thought, in this guy it meant he was contemplating what to say.

“What are you doing this evening?” he asked eventually.

It was such a clumsy question that it took a few seconds for her to understand what was going on.

Slowly, her lips curved up in a smile. “Um… I’ve nothing planned.”

“Okay. I wondered if you and your daughter would like to come out for a drink. Well, obviously, your daughter wouldn’t like an alcoholic drink, but maybe we could go to, I don’t know, McDonald’s or something, and she could have one of those Happy Meal things. You know, with a toy.”

He looked alarmed at his inability to express himself, as if he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving, and the words were just tumbling out.

“Are you asking me on a date?” she said, trying not to chuckle.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Apparently it’s difficult to tell.”

That made her laugh. He was so sweet. She felt as if they were fifteen and he was trying to ask her to the school ball.

Briefly, an image of Dillon flashed in her mind, and she felt a flicker of guilt at how hurt he’d be if she dated anyone else. And hadn’t she just told herself she needed some time alone?

But the cute doctor’s gaze rested on her, warm and interested, and her resolve melted. She and Dillon were separated and she’d made it quite clear she wanted their marriage to be over. It
was
over. Maybe going out with someone else would help her to move on.

“I didn’t think you even knew who I was,” she murmured.

He looked at the paper bag in his hand. “I don’t like muffins.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t eat them. Luckily my colleagues in research do.”

He was telling her that he went to the snack cart so he could see her. Every day, for a year! Warmth spread through her as if she’d drunk a large glass of Scotch.

She smiled. “I’d love to go for a drink. I’m not sure I can get a babysitter at such short notice, though, so it might have to be McDonald’s a little earlier, I’m afraid, if you want to make it today.”

“That’s great. I’ve always wanted to try a chicken nugget.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve never had chicken nuggets?”

“Nope. Never been to McDonald’s. Or Burger King. Or Pizza Hut.”

“Good Lord.”

“I’ve been told I’m completely disconnected from modern civilization. I feel I should point this out now in case you’d rather back away while there’s still time.”

Was he being serious?
It wouldn’t be the first time
, he’d said when referring to the alien duplicates, so clearly other people had struggled with his apparent lack of emotion. But his eyes were filled with warmth, and a gut feeling told her he just had an incredibly wry sense of humor that for whatever reason didn’t reflect in his features. What a strange guy. And yet her life had been filled with worry and disappointment and sadness for so long that the thought of getting to know him better and injecting a little romance into her day brought a lightness to her heart.

“I’ll risk it,” she said.

Did she imagine it, or did his expression flicker briefly with relief? “Shall I pick you up from your house at, say, five? Or is that too late? I have no idea what time children go to bed.”

“Five will be fine.”

“Cool.” He stood and attempted to help her rearrange the items he’d knocked over on her desk.

Their hands bumped, and her cheeks warmed. “It’s okay, I’ll do it,” she said.

“Sure.” He ran a hand through his hair and headed for the door.

“Hey,” she called out, “I don’t even know your name.”

He stopped and turned around for a moment, shoving his hand back in his pocket. “Charlie,” he said. “Charlie King. See you later.” He walked away and disappeared around the corner.

Only then did she realize she hadn’t told him where she lived. How would he know where to pick her up? It was really odd how he…

She blinked a few times. Wait a minute. Charlie King?

Her jaw dropped again. Brock, Charlie, and Matt King were three brothers who ran the company called Three Wise Men that designed medical equipment specifically for children.

Brock King was the consultant pediatrician specializing in respiratory diseases who’d first diagnosed her daughter with CF. Matt King had written a series of children’s books called
The Toys from Ward Seven
, and the new medical equipment was decorated with his characters, with the hoping of making it less scary for kids.