Winning Back His Doctor Bride (7 page)

How wrong he'd been.

He opted to change the subject. “What did DCFS say?”

“That as long as he's in the hospital they can hold off on putting him into foster care, but the second we release him...”

“Will he be deported?”

“If they can find the uncle? Almost certainly.” She licked her lips. “I'm thinking about applying to be a foster parent.”

“What?” Of all the impulsive, ridiculous things... But that was Mila. Putting others ahead of herself. Always. That had included him once upon a time. “You need to think this through. You're just getting ready to open a clinic here. How are you going to have time to take on something like a child?”

She blinked up at him. “Some
thing
? I don't know. It just feels like the right thing to do.”

“You don't even know this child.”

“No. But I've known children like him. And maybe this is my chance to change a life. To really, truly—radically—change the future for this boy.” Her chest rose. “His parents were killed. Murdered. And he doesn't have an aunt to see that he gets the care he needs, like I did. She loved me, James. No matter how much I disagree with what she did in the end, I know she was trying to keep me from being hurt.”

A host of emotions crawled along his nerve endings, none of them good. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because...” she licked her lips “...I want to use you as a personal reference on the paperwork, if that's okay.”

* * *

Mila's head swirled as she waited for his answer. She wasn't sure why it was important for James's name to be on that form. Avery would certainly agree to be a reference. But she wanted James. Did she still need his approval somehow?

No. It was strictly a tactic to show she surrounded herself with respected professionals. People with money, although that went against everything she believed in. But since she was asking DCFS to expedite the process, she would use any tactic she could think of.

What she'd told James was the truth. Now that she was back in the States, she still wanted to make a difference. Bright Hope was one thing, but bringing hope to a child who was an orphan like herself, who had nothing...no one...suddenly seemed vital. Maybe she was trying to make sure Leo didn't feel the way she had when her parents had died, leaving her with no living relative other than her aunt. Or the way she'd felt when James had walked away from their relationship, making her feel just as alone as she'd felt after the death of her parents.

“Why me?” His low voice rumbled past her ear and she couldn't tell if he was angry or just puzzled by her request.

Mila wasn't sure she even knew why herself.

“Because you started The Hollywood Hills Clinic. You've worked with DCFS cases before.”

“Only a few times. And that was years ago.” He frowned. “How did you even know about those?”

“Adam Walker said the clinic has helped DCFS out in the past. And Freya said
you
used to take some of the harder reconstruction cases that no one else wanted.”

“Ah, yes. My sister. I should have known.”

This was a mistake. A stupid, impulsive mistake. The prospect of working so closely with someone who'd once broken her heart must have addled her thinking somehow. Time to undo it, if she could. Starting with...

“Never mind. I needed a professional reference, but there are plenty of other people I've worked with that I can ask.”

He leaned back against the wall and regarded her through hooded eyes. “Like Tyler Richardson?”

She'd actually been thinking of Avery, but what if she did ask Tyler? What was it to James? Something made her pursue that line of thinking. “I'm sure Tyler would be happy to provide me with a reference.”

“I'm sure he would.” He sighed. “I didn't say I wouldn't give you the reference. I was just surprised you would want it.”

“Whatever gives me an edge.” Even as she repeated those words inside her head she knew they weren't strictly true.

“I guess I should be flattered, then.” He gave her a slow smile. “Yes. You can use my name. I'm sure you've used it before, although not in quite as positive a way.”

She smiled back. “No. Probably not.” She remembered biting out his name in anger on more than one occasion, usually accompanied by a black period of name-calling and plastic-plate throwing—something her therapist had suggested after she'd found out the truth about her parents' deaths. She still threw around nonbreakable dishware from time to time. Not over James, but just when various frustrations crossed her path. Although if she got Leo, she would have to stop that.

It would be a small price to pay.

She drew a relieved breath. “Well, thank you. I'll get you the paperwork—”

“You haven't heard my conditions yet.”

The air in her lungs stuck for a second before whistling back out. “Conditions?”

“I have a cottage on my property. I want you and Leo to live there until you find something else.”

“What?” Shock held her immobile for several horrifying seconds. Stay on his property? There was no way.

“Do you really think DCFS is going to let you keep a child on a property that has been broken into on two separate occasions?” His words said one thing, but his eyes said something else, dark shadows preventing her from seeing below the surface.

“But the broken door was Leo's uncle. The window was probably his handiwork as well.”

“You don't know that. And unless you can convince them there is no risk to Leo...”

She couldn't. In fact, both incidents had left her shaken. But what else could she do?

It wasn't like she could just up and move to Hollywood Hills. There was no way she could afford to live in this part of the city, even with the increase in her salary. Besides, her tendency was to keep just enough to live on and sock the rest of it away with the small remainder of her inheritance, ready to sink into whatever needy cause caught her attention.

And taking Leo in? Didn't that top the list of good causes?

What about finding James with the boy sprawled across his chest last night? Oh, that had touched her deeply. So deeply that she wanted him to approve of what she was choosing to do? Possibly.

But live within a few yards of his house? As icy and detached as James liked to appear to those around him, he cared. Why else would he agree to be a reference...or insist that she move him onto his property? Did she want to dig any deeper than that? No. She needed to be grateful and leave the explanations for another time.

“Thank you. I accept your condition.”

“Good. The place is furnished, but I'll send someone for anything you want to put in there this afternoon.”

“It's not permanent. As long as you have the basics, I'll just bring a couple of suitcases of clothes. And once I find a better solution I'll be moving out.”

His brows came together but he didn't argue.

She rushed ahead to finish. “I know you have a patient waiting, so I'll let you get back to it. I'm sure DCFS will be calling you with some routine questions. I would appreciate it, though, if you didn't mention our past.”

His mouth quirked, and he took a step closer, edging dangerously close to her personal space.

“Do you think they won't find out about us, Mila?” His voice, low and silky, brushed across nerve endings she hadn't even known existed. “All they have to do is type your name into a search engine and mine comes up as well. I've done it, and there are still plenty of pictures of us out there, courtesy of the paparazzi.”

Her tummy went wobbly, as did her legs. Only there was nowhere for her to retreat, except to turn and run back down the hall.

How did he know there were pictures of them? He said he'd typed her name in? Why? And what exactly had come up when he had? Six years was a long time for stuff to hang around. But when you had famous parents, as they both did, it stood to reason that people would be interested.

“I'm sure they can find anything, if they look hard enough. I have nothing to hide. But if you could avoid giving them a reason to dig any deeper, I would appreciate it.”

He reached out and touched her cheek, and the wobbling became a full-fledged tremor. “Afraid of your skeletons, Mila?”

The correct response came to her in a flash of self-preservation. “No, I'm afraid of yours.”

There were probably pictures of him with every starlet or model he'd ever dated. She didn't know if that would hurt her chances or not, but she didn't want to risk it.

His hand fell back to his side, and his eyes cooled back to their normal color. “Don't worry, those particular skeletons will remain safely out of sight.”

“Thank you.” She hesitated. “For everything.”

Just as she started to turn away James touched her arm. “For what it's worth, Mi, you'll make a great mother.”

Another doctor came striding down the hallway headed straight for them. James greeted him with a wave and together they went into the exam room, leaving Mila standing there to digest the shocking developments, not only about his cottage but his statement about her being a good mother. Did he really believe that?

She had no idea, but if she was smart she'd forget he'd ever mentioned that.

The question was, was she smart? Where James was concerned? Absolutely not. Sighing, she decided to head down the hallway and look to see how the newest branch of Bright Hope was coming along.

She made several turns down the corridors, catching sight of a couple of people she thought she recognized from the celebrity magazines, but she knew enough not to stare or stop to get a closer look. Then she found a glass door inscribed with the same logo she had on the LA clinic.

Bright Hope.

She'd looked at the plans, and James had told her about the board's decision to allow access through the main part of the medical center, but the reality of seeing it made her heart swell. Soon there would be patients here and a bustling staff. They could reach so many people.

Moving closer, she ran her fingers over the paint. It reminded her that James wanted her to paint a mural on the wall in the reception area similar to the one at her other location.

It was official. In a few short weeks they would open their doors. Which meant she needed to get busy and hire some staff besides Avery. Unless James planned on pulling them from his current pool. Except she wanted to do the hiring herself, to make sure that the clinic personnel wouldn't act put off if someone came in looking a little less than perfect. Surely James would understand that.

She went to push open the door, only to find it locked, which made sense.

Peering through the glass, she smiled when she spotted comfortable-looking furniture in pale, muted colors, rather than the modern black and chrome found in most areas of The Hollywood Hills Clinic.

Maybe she could do the mural over...

A huge framed picture on the wall opposite where she stood caught her eye. She stared, her breath getting stuck in her throat for several long seconds.

Damn. It was a framed enlargement of one of the photos taken at the LA location that James had shown her over dinner. With everything that had happened with Leo, they'd never had a chance to go through them again.

In this particular shot, James had hold of her hand and they were gazing into each other's eyes.

To someone who hadn't been there, it appeared the normal handshake of two businesspeople. But she had been there, and that touch had been no ordinary clasp and release. No, it had been as intimate as his touch in the hallway a few moments earlier. She quickly averted her eyes to glance at the words that appeared under the picture frame.

In beautiful script appeared the words:

The Hollywood Hills Clinic and Bright Hope

Two powerful beacons serving our patients and our community.

That was when she knew the picture was there to stay. No matter what she said, the board of directors or whoever had chosen that particular photo had made the decision.

For as long as the two clinics collaborated, there would be handshakes and meetings and unexpected sightings. But there would be no more kisses. Not like the one in Leo's hospital suite.

Moving onto his property where she would see him almost every day would make that a challenge. For her, at least.

But somehow she either needed to become immune to his presence or risk facing some devastating consequences. If she couldn't, then she needed to find someplace else to live as soon as she could. And then have as little as possible to do with this clinic. And with him.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
HE
 
SOCIAL
 
WORKER
 
was due at his house at any moment, and James still had no idea how things had gotten so screwed up. One second he'd been telling Mila he would be her reference and the next he'd been demanding she use the guest cottage behind his own home.

The thought of her staying above that shabby clinic downtown made his gut churn. It wasn't safe. Not only for Leo but for Mila as well. And since she only had a security guard during the day...

It was a wonder she hadn't been hurt or killed.

Besides, no one stayed in the cottage. He'd purchased the property right after he and Mila had gotten engaged, with the intention that he would use the extra residence for either of his parents, should they choose to visit. Only he and Mila had never made it down the aisle, and he'd never invited his folks to come and visit. In reality, his father wasn't welcome in his home. And his mom, probably unaware of what Michael Rothsberg had tried to do all those years ago, hadn't even asked.

But that didn't mean he should immediately offer the place to Mila to help her become a foster parent. In fact, the thought of having a child on the premises twenty-four-seven made him shudder. And yet he'd done it anyway. And Mila had accepted his offer, which had been another surprise.

It had been a little over a week since she'd turned in the paperwork—a little over a week since he'd been foolish enough to press his lips to hers in Leo's room, although he could still remember every second of it. It seemed the DCFS had indeed expedited things.

The problem had been that Leo couldn't stay at the clinic indefinitely, and once he left, he would be dumped into the foster-care system, which brought up a whole new series of complications. One of them being that The Hollywood Hills Clinic wasn't included on the list of medical facilities that DCFS normally used. So if any of their normal doctors were available, the agency would use them, leaving Adam Walker—and Leo—out in the cold.

And Mila wanted to make sure the boy received the best care. She was willing to become a foster mom and live right under James's nose, if need be, to make that happen.

Mila was at the cottage right now, setting up things in the spare bedroom. She'd stuck with her decision about bringing nothing more than a couple of suitcases. And she'd tried to pay him rent.

Rent!

There was no way in hell he was accepting a dime from Mila. It wasn't a permanent arrangement, and Mila was already looking for a place that allowed children. Which was ridiculous. The child wasn't a puppy. Or a pet. He was a human being.

Something he'd been far too conscious of as he'd held the boy that first night at the clinic. It was the only night James had stayed with them because having a small trusting body curled against him had done a number on his gut. Worse, he'd fallen asleep, and when he'd woken up, Mila had been standing over them with a softness to her eyes that he hadn't seen in a very long time.

He didn't want her getting any strange ideas. Not that she would. There was no way she would ever take him back after what he'd done to her all those years ago. And he wouldn't dream of trying to persuade her otherwise.

And yet he'd been willing to persuade her to live—and sleep—within a hundred yards of his house.

As if sensing he was thinking about her, Mila peered around his open back door. “She just texted me. She's running about a half hour late.”

There was something telling about the fact that Mila had come over in person to let him know, rather than simply shooting him a text like the social worker had done with her. It just confirmed the days of sending lighthearted messages back and forth were long gone.

Mila evidently texted some people, though, whereas James chose not to send messages at all. Everyone around him knew about his weird predilection, including his sister, although she just chose to ignore it.

“I'm making coffee,” he said. “Would you like a cup?”

“Love one. I have to tell you, I'm nervous. What if she doesn't like me?”

Since James had never met anyone who didn't like Mila, he couldn't imagine that happening. “She will.”

“You don't know that.” She perched on one of the tall leather chairs that flanked the round bar table and propped an elbow on the black marble surface.

He hesitated. “Are you sure you want to do this, Mila? It could be a long-term commitment.”

“Maybe that's what I need. A long-term commitment.” She studied her nails, not meeting his eyes.

His gut twisted. It was the one thing she'd needed from him, and the one thing he hadn't been able to give her. “Are you thinking of adopting him?”

“I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. It depends on what happens with his uncle and whether they can locate him.”

He poured a mug of coffee, adding flavored creamer and a squirt of whipped cream he had in his fridge. He topped it off with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

When he carried it back to her, she was staring at him strangely.

“What?” he asked.

“You remembered.”

He glanced down at the cup, realizing he'd automatically fixed the brew the way he had in the past. The exact way that Mila had drunk it back then.

Setting it in front of her, he swallowed. “I remember a lot of things.”

“Like the way I drink my coffee.” Her words came out in a husky rush, her tongue tipping forward to moisten her upper lip.

He remembered that gesture too. It had normally ended with him kissing her—with them falling into bed.

“Among other things.” Like the way she tasted. Felt beneath his hands. His mouth. A sense of hot anticipation began to roll through him.

The chair was tall enough that it wouldn't take much to lean down and...

She picked up her cup and took a quick sip, then set it down again. He should move away and fix his own cup before he did something stupid.

Really stupid.

Too late.

He slid his fingers into the thick hair at her nape, the delicate bones of her skull also something he remembered far too well.

“James?” The inflection at the end of his name said it was technically a question, but the soft sigh put it in a different category altogether.

Cupping her face, he met her halfway, his lips brushing over hers, his eyes closing as bittersweet memories—more sweet than bitter—swept him away on a cloud of forgetfulness.

Forgetting the pain he'd caused her.

Forgetting the horror of Cindy's fake pregnancy.

Forgetting the fury caused by his father's attempt to buy her off.

All that remained was the woman sitting at
his
table in
his
kitchen in
his
house. And he'd forgotten nothing about her. Especially not the needy press of her mouth on his or how it made him want things he'd never dreamed he could have.

One of her hands came up and wound around his neck, her fingers warm from where she'd held the cup of coffee. A feeling so familiar it sent a ripple through the muscles of his abdomen, the sensation pooling in his groin.

This was right where he wanted to be.

He slid his thumbs beneath her chin and tipped her head just a touch, taking a step closer, until his thighs pressed against the outside of her leg.

How easy it would be just to swing her up in his arms and head toward his bedroom. The room where they'd made love time and time again.

Bzzz...
Bzzz... Bzzz...

Something vibrated on the table and a flash of movement caught his eye.

Damn! Mila's phone.

She jerked away and grabbed the instrument just before it slid off the table.

The past came rushing back to greet him. All the regrets. All the mistakes.

Mistakes he'd vowed never to repeat.

She pulled her phone toward her, glancing at the screen. She didn't say anything for a second or two, then murmured, “The social worker. She'll be here in five.”

Even he could hear the tremor to her voice. And her lips were pink and lush and full. From his kiss. Another thing he hadn't seen in ages. All he wanted to do was lean down and take them again.

But the last thing either of them needed was for someone to jump to the wrong conclusions.

Ha! What kind of conclusions would they be? That they'd been on their way to devouring each other?

“Why don't you run to the restroom, and I'll wait for her.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Mila slid off the chair and headed down the hallway to where she already knew the restroom was. Which was good. Because it also gave him a chance to try to collect his thoughts. Not that there were many of them floating around his head at the moment. Just a jumble of emotions that he needed to shove to the back of his mind.

Mila was back in two minutes. Much sooner than he'd expected. Her hair gleamed around her face, and those pink, natural lips had a coating of artificial color slicked on, hiding any trace of what had happened. Even her hazel eyes seemed cooler. Much different than the warm ocean green they'd been just before he'd kissed her.

He smiled, half in relief and half in regret. “You look poised and ready.”

How easy it had been for her to wipe away any trace of what had happened. Had it been just as easy for her to erase what they'd once meant to each other? He had spent many sleepless nights thinking about her.

If only there'd been a lip balm back then that could have erased the memories of her mouth opening beneath his. Of sinking deep into her and losing his heart, his soul...his mind.

This was not helping.

“Do you want to meet her here or at the cottage?”

“The cottage, since that's where we'll be staying. At least in the beginning. Thank you again for suggesting it. And you were right. My apartment wouldn't have worked. I would have worried constantly about Leo. Especially after what happened.”

Thinking back, James was pretty sure the first broken window was related to the boy and his uncle as well. But she had a point. There'd been a police report filed about the first incident. And the second. That wouldn't have played in Mila's favor during the home visit.

“Speaking of which, I had a lease agreement drawn up. I should have mentioned it earlier, but it's just a technicality. Just in case the social worker wants something official.”

And to make it look less like a friends with benefits arrangement. Because they weren't friends. Not anymore. And there were definitely no benefits attached.

“I never even thought of that. Thank you. I'll pay rent, of course.”

“I already told you that isn't necessary. It was just sitting empty, anyway. My housekeeper did her best to keep the place clean but—”

“It was spotless. And I won't need her to clean for me. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“And I'm a grown man, but we both have very demanding schedules, and yours is about to get a whole lot busier with the opening of the new clinic.”

In fact, it had been James's mother who had hired his housekeeper years ago. He'd protested at first, but when he'd seen how Rosa's face had fallen when he had tried to let her down as easily as he could, he'd had second thoughts. He'd justified it the same way he'd justified it to Mila, telling himself he was busy and it wouldn't hurt to have a little help on the side.

But a big part of it was that he couldn't bear to let one more woman down, as if by keeping Rosa employed he was paying just a little bit of penance for letting Mila down. For letting his mom down by not telling her what his father had done. So Rosa was there to stay.

“Still—”

“You'll hurt her feelings if you try to refuse her help. Besides, she loves children. I think it would be a plus in your favor if the social worker knew you'd have someone to watch Leo when you weren't home.”

“I don't expect Rosa to do that without asking her first.”

His housekeeper was off on Fridays so that she could spend weekends with her nephews who lived in Fresno. Since she stayed on the premises the rest of the week, it also gave James a few days of privacy when he could unwind. Or pass the time in female company.

Come to think of it, it had been a while since he'd spent time with a woman. Maybe that's what was behind his sudden urge to kiss Mila. He needed to have sex.

With anyone
but
Mila.

The doorbell rang just as he was trying to convince himself of that. That any woman would do.

Except there was a little voice deep inside that rumbled that that was a lie. There was only one woman who would do, and she was the very one he couldn't have. The very one he shouldn't touch.

Not anymore.

* * *

James could charm the pants off a giraffe.

The social worker had been hooked from the moment she'd laid eyes on him, flipping her fake blond hair over her shoulder every other second.

Good thing the woman had arrived when she had, though, because James had almost charmed the pants off her as well.

The last thing she needed was to fall back under his spell. Hadn't she learned her lesson the first time?

Evidently not because she was practically living under his roof. In fact, that damned lease—the one she'd scribbled her name on just before they'd opened the door to the social worker—said she had free rein, not only of the cottage but also the main house. She could come and go as she pleased. Use the pool, or anything else that she wanted.

Including him?

No. Not including him. And she would not set foot in the main house any more than absolutely necessary. She would take him up on his offer of the pool, though, because she imagined that swimming would be a great low-impact therapy for Leo as he recovered from surgery.

Depending on how long the little boy was with her.