Winning Back His Doctor Bride (8 page)

It bothered her that in two weeks she was already starting to think of him as a part of her. She'd spent every night at the clinic with him. And as he was going to be released to wait for his surgery date, they would naturally come back to the cottage.

“Do you have any children of your own?”

The social worker's question brought her back to reality. Only it wasn't aimed at her, it was aimed at James. Why the hell did the woman need to know if he had children?

Maybe because she wanted to know if other kids would be on the premises. Yeah, it could be that. In fact, the woman probably rationalized the intrusive question with just that intent. But in reality Mila got the feeling she was fishing to see if he had an ex...and children with that ex.

Because there was no ring on Evelyn Scott's left hand, was there?

She squinted a little closer. No, there was not.

A popular song came to mind, the dancing figures in a music video telling some unlucky guy that he should have given her a ring before it was too late.

Ha! James had given her a ring. For all the good that had done her. She'd mailed it back to him from Brazil, where it was better not to wear expensive jewelry.

Even if it had been completely safe, she still wouldn't have kept it. In fact, James had never acknowledged receiving it. Had the engagement ring even made it back to the States?

It didn't matter.

“No, I don't have children.” If Evelyn sounded curious, James sounded peeved. Had he too felt the question was inappropriate?

“Well, it looks like everything is in order. And the cottage is adorable.” Evelyn stuffed her papers back into her briefcase and snapped it shut. “I'll give my recommendation to the court that they make an emergency motion for placement with you. It'll just be temporary until we can file the rest of the paperwork. You'll have to let me know of any plans to move. And you can't take him out of state without permission.”

“How about on a boat? Within local waters?” James asked.

A boat? What...? Surely not. Was he thinking of taking Leo sailing?

She blinked, trying to find some reason to be outraged, but she wasn't. She was happy. Happy for a little boy who'd probably never had the luxury of seeing—much less visiting—a boat like
Mystic Waters
.

Evelyn looked from one to the other, clearly a little dumbfounded. “I'll have to check, but I don't see why not. As long as you stay within California waters.”

“Absolutely.”

Mila had completely lost the use of her tongue, at least as far as forming words went. But she was grateful. Grateful for his willingness to take on a boy who was not his responsibility and provide him with a referral to one of the best orthopedists in the business. Not only that but he'd given the boy permission to live almost under his nose.

She stood beside James as he said his goodbyes to the social worker, assuring her she could stop by anytime she wanted. Evelyn nodded, flipping her hair once more and telling him she was sure she'd be seeing him soon.

As soon as the door shut, he leaned against it, blowing out a breath. “Looks like you're getting your boy. I hope you know what you're doing, Mila.”

“I do. And thank you for everything.” She hesitated. “Did you mean it about the boat?”

He nodded. “I thought it might be a good way to get his mind off things. Especially since he won't have surgery for another couple of weeks. We could even take him on an overnight trip to Catalina. It's still considered part of California.”

Wow. He'd taken her to Catalina. And she'd been in awe of the beautiful island. It was everything the tourist pamphlets promised it would be. But maybe that was because of the man she'd had at her side when she'd visited it.

Well, this would be a little different. And Mila had to make sure that she didn't lose her head. Not this time. Besides, he hadn't offered his boat because of her. It had been because of Leo. She had to remember that, and she would.

And she was definitely going to make sure she kept James at arm's length, because anything else was dangerous.

Dangerous to her. And dangerous to a little boy who would be looking for a father figure after the disappearance of his uncle.

Unless she wanted to risk Leo being as emotionally damaged as he was physically, that father figure could, under no circumstances, be James.

* * *

Now came the test.

“Are you ready?”

Patricia Stillwell slid a hand up to touch the stitches on her cheek. “I think so. Are you sure the scarring will be minimal?”

Examining the tiny stitches he'd painstakingly made, he said, “If someone knows it's there, they'll be able to spot it but, other than that, it should be barely noticeable. And a good makeup artist can erase all traces of it.”

“What about the sinking you mentioned?”

Whenever there was trauma to an area, there was the risk of fat cells dying off, creating depressions on the surface.

“It's too soon to know. If it happens, we can transplant fat from another area of your body into your cheek to even it out. We should know within a month.”

“What about scar reduction surgery?”

There was that need for perfection again. If he had been Patricia, he would be more worried about what else her boyfriend was capable of. But every time James had tried to bring the subject up, Patricia had stopped him by either changing the topic or by defending him.

How she could defend a person like that was beyond him. Did she ever even ask herself why she stayed with him?

Then again, Mila hadn't asked him why he'd walked out on her. Even in Leo's room when he'd apologized for what he'd done. Wasn't she the least bit curious? Or had she just not understood what he was saying sorry for?

It's been six years, James. Give it a rest. She doesn't care anymore.

And he shouldn't either. But he did. Maybe he felt the need for absolution. To get it all off his chest and have her say she forgave him.

Kind of hard when he hadn't forgiven himself.

“Are you ready to have the stitches out?”

“I am.”

“Remember the redness won't completely fade until it finishes healing.” Patricia had never had the problem of decreased melanin production in surgical areas that could sometimes cause the skin to become paler than the surrounding tissue.

“I've been through this before, Doc. I know what to expect.”

She'd been through
surgeries
before. When he operated, he took the utmost care with what his scalpel touched and what it didn't. This was the indiscriminate slash of a blade without any concern for what it might damage. Patricia hadn't been through anything like this before.

And he hoped she never went through it again. The warning signs were there, though. If she didn't heed them, she could wind up back on his exam table. Or worse.

He gave a mental shrug. Not his decision to make.

Just like Mila's decision to apply to be Leo's foster parent hadn't been his to make.

Asking for the scissors, he prepared to cut the first of the line of sutures. He could have let his nurse handle this part. A lot of surgeons did. But he wanted to make sure everything was okay and that the scar didn't do anything unusual once the tension was released.

He snipped the first line, next to the knot. James was in the habit of tying off between each stitch so that he could control the tightness along the whole incision. It prevented stretching or buckling during day-to-day muscle movements or sleeping. It also meant that when he went to remove the stitches he had to cut behind each knot and pull the suture out section by section. But a good outcome was worth the extra effort.

And the outcome with Mila. Would it have been different if he'd put a little more effort into the courtship process, instead of rushing through it to get to the prize?

He had no idea, but he was getting pretty tired of having everything in his life bring something to mind about his failed engagement. And about Mila, who was now back in his life. To stay, evidently. For as long as the partnership between The Hollywood Hills Clinic and Bright Hope continued.

By the time he got to the last stitch, he'd put his thoughts firmly on his patient and what he needed to do. Cutting the suture, he used his tweezers to pluck the tiny piece of filament from her skin, dropping it into a plastic dish that held the rest of the stitches.

He examined the skin, checking for any areas of weakness that might open up at some point. Everything appeared solid, the healing process well under way.

“It looks good.” He reached for the mirror the nurse was already holding out. “Have a look.”

Patricia peered into the reflective surface. “What about the holes where the sutures were? Will they show?”

“Some of that depends on your skin. But we've never had a problem with that in your case. I'll want to see you back here in a week to see how you're doing and check everything. If anything feels warm or starts to hurt, call me right away.”

He looked up at her. “You know I'm not one to give advice.”

Patricia raised her brow. Okay, so he'd advised her against having additional surgery from time to time, but this was different. This was her life.

He smiled. “Okay, but it's only because I care.”

It was true. He did care for all of his patients. It was how he'd gotten through his broken engagement and how he got through life.

“I know you do,” Patricia said. “And I think I know what you're going to say, but I'm not ready to walk out on Allen. Not yet. I promise, though, if he loses his temper again, I won't stick around.”

That was the best he was going to get. “I'm holding you to that promise. He has a reputation, and evidently there was more than a hint of truth behind it.”

“Exaggerations. He's a great guy.”

A great guy who cut open someone he cared about?

Yeah, well, hadn't some of his own patients raved about what a good guy
he
was? How good he was at his job? How compassionate he was with his patients?

And yet he'd been able to walk into a room where the woman he loved stood and slice her with words that would cut her to the core.

Some great guy he'd turned out to be.

Angry with Allen Claremont, with Patricia Stillwell, and with himself, he gave her some last-minute instructions about scar care that would help keep the area as smooth and supple as possible. And then he walked out of the room and headed off for his next appointment. As he knocked on the door, he put Mila out of his mind once and for all.

CHAPTER SIX

“I
T
'
S
 
CALLED
 
A
 
SAILBOAT
, Leo.
Un velero
.”

Mila smiled as the boy looked around in obvious awe at the pristine white surfaces of the
Mystic Waters
. She remembered feeling the same awe. But not about the sailboat. About James, when he'd stood across from her the night they'd met. The night she'd joked about toads and princes.

Her eyes had probably held the same wide-eyed wonder that night. She'd certainly let him hustle her off to bed fast enough.

Glancing at James, she saw he was watching Leo as well. Only he wasn't smiling. In fact, there was a solemnity in his gaze that took her aback.

They were supposed to be celebrating her getting temporary custody of Leo. Well, if the man's expression was celebratory, she'd hate to see funereal.

They weren't going sailing today but had made plans to head out to Catalina in a few days. But for now there was a picnic lunch Rosa had packed for them to enjoy. It was a rare day off for her, and for James, evidently, who'd managed to clear a large block of time to come out on this outing with them.

Why had he, though? Especially if he was so glum about being here.

Was he regretting letting them use the cottage? He'd been the one to offer it. And it had worked. The social worker had given them her seal of approval. And so had the judge who they'd met yesterday. He agreed it was in Leo's best interests to keep things as stable as possible for the moment. Especially when the child had the opportunity to have his surgery done at The Hollywood Hills Clinic.

She went over and nudged James with her elbow, keeping Leo in her sight. “Hey, is everything okay? We can skip lunch, you know, so you can go back to work.”

It took a moment or two to get a response from him, but then the right side of his mouth tilted up. “That bad, huh?”

“You certainly don't look overjoyed to be here.”

“Just thinking about how lucky Leo is to be placed with someone who genuinely cares about him. Not everyone gets that kind of childhood.”

Was he talking about children in general? Or about his own unhappy childhood? She knew that James and his father had never seen eye to eye. And there had been talk of his father's philandering in the tabloids. But in the days leading to their breakup he'd spoken of the man with a contempt that had floored her. And knowing about Freya's struggle with an eating disorder, she wondered exactly what had gone on in that family. She had her friend's account of fighting and angry words between the famous parents, but Freya had never talked much about her brother's interactions with them, only that he'd been left to practically raise her at times. Maybe Freya figured it was James's story to tell and not hers.

“No. They don't.” This time, instead of nudging him, she let her elbow maintain contact with his arm, feeling the need to touch him. While the truth about the deaths of her parents had devastated her, her mom and dad had been loving and kind people. At least from everything she'd read and from her own memories of them. In that her aunt had told the truth. They'd also made sure she'd been well provided for. She hoped they'd be happy with the way she'd used their fortune, to better the lives of those less fortunate. “My keeping him might not have been possible without the use of your cottage. Thank you again for that.”

“It's a small price to pay.”

And yet he didn't act like it was a small price at all. In fact, Mila had noticed that aside from that first night in the clinic he hadn't touched Leo any more than necessary. He had lifted him onto the boat. But it had been a quick heave-ho, setting him on his feet. It had lasted all of five seconds.

“But it was a price you were
willing
to pay.”

Unlike marrying her.

James's frown deepened. Because he'd guessed her thoughts? Time to change tack.

“Why don't we break into that basket Rosa packed for us?”

The furrows softened. As badly as he'd hurt her six years ago, she couldn't find it in her to lash out. Not now. Back when it had happened? Oh, yeah. She'd raged, written terrible destructive things in her journal for months afterward. It had been cathartic somehow. And now all she was left with was regret that things had ended the way they had. That he hadn't loved her the way she'd loved him. In reality, she should have guessed by the way he'd been acting in those last weeks that they weren't going to make it.

Except when she'd pressed him for reassurance he'd always given it to her. And once, while in a panic over the growing emotional distance between them, when she'd mentioned starting a family, he had murmured all the right things...told her he loved her.

Only those reassurances had been every bit as much of a lie as her aunt telling her that her parents had died in a car accident. Neat. Clean. Easy on the ears. But still lies.

Pushing back the tide of the past, she lifted the large picnic basket onto the folding table James had set up on deck, saying it would be nicer to sit out in the cool autumn sun than be stuck below deck. Besides, Leo was kitted out in a life jacket, which James had produced before she'd even had a chance to suggest it herself.

“Tienes hambre?”
she asked him, as she spread the tablecloth, tucking it beneath the wicker basket.

“Si. Mucho.”

James had introduced Leo to a pair of crutches, but since the boy was used to walking on his twisted feet, he'd quickly discarded them.

But watching him slowly shuffle his way toward them, his face contorting a time or two as he struggled to force his limbs to obey, Mila's heart squeezed into a hard little ball.

His surgery couldn't come soon enough.

James helped her get things set up. As soon as she pulled the last of the containers from the basket, though, her fingers brushed across something shiny and smooth. Peering inside, she saw a folded pamphlet. “What's this?”

“Something I wanted to discuss with you over lunch. Away from the clinic.”

Was this why he'd suggested coming out to the boat? Her heart sank. She'd thought he'd been trying to give Leo a nice outing. Instead...

She lifted the leaflet, and started to open it, only to have James place his hand on it. “Let's get Leo's plate set up first.”

A stray cloud caused a shadow to drift across the deck, matching the one that was sliding through her heart. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that he expected her to protest. Why else would he have wanted to get her away from the clinic?

“We could have discussed this at the house.”

“I wanted to show it to you in a neutral setting.”

Neutral? Was he kidding? This huge boat was anything but neutral. They'd made love in the cabin below—one of the reasons she thought James had wanted to eat up on deck. How wrong she'd been. He didn't see this boat as anything but a sailing vessel. As his property.

Fine. He wanted to talk about whatever was inside that pamphlet? She would surprise him by not reacting at all.

She was going to remain cool, calm and collected. No matter what James said or did.

* * *

“They want us to what?”

The horror on her face would have been comical if it hadn't mirrored his own feelings. This was exactly why he'd wanted to get her away. And knowing she wouldn't go anywhere without Leo in tow, he'd been forced to pretend it was an outing planned just for the boy.

Only that had backfired. Leo's obvious joy at being on his boat had made his chest burn in a way that it hadn't since he'd brought the ax down on his and Mila's relationship.

“You knew the clinic would want to plan some special events surrounding the fund-raiser for Bright Hope.”

“Yes, of course. I knew there was some kind of ritzy ball coming up. But a regatta? Is that why you wanted to show me this while we were on your boat?”

He'd been just as surprised by the request. The parade of boats by clinic patrons was nothing new. They'd done that several times in the past. Except this time they wanted James and Mila to glide into the docking pier first and start the festivities off with a bang, since they were each the head of their respective medical facility.

“I thought this was a good place to discuss it, yes, since we'll be sailing in on the
Mystic Waters
.”

James didn't like this any more than she did, but it was his responsibility to make sure this venture was a success. He'd put his reputation on the line for Freya's pet project and he had no choice but to see it through to the bitter end. Especially with Freya so close to giving birth to her twins. He would let nothing hurt her, either physically or emotionally.

So there it was. And since it was actually his sister who'd suggested they arrive together—even mentioning James's prized boat to one of the board members when he hadn't been around to shoot the idea out of the water—he was stuck.

“Freya didn't mention anything about this to you?”

“Does it look like she did?” Mila cast a quick glance at Leo as if trying to make sure he didn't understand. But so far the youngster was busy making roads in his mashed potatoes with his spoon, making engine noises as the utensil sped through the white surface.

“If it makes you feel better, I didn't know about this either until just the other day. I knew the clinic was putting on a gala to celebrate our partnership, and we've held regattas in the past. But us arriving together was new.”

“So you knew they wanted us to, but you're only now telling me about it.” She flicked the pamphlet toward him. The same picture graced the cover that was on the wall at her new clinic. Promising an event that was “not to be missed.” “You couldn't have warned me before these were printed? What if I said no?”

“Part of your clinic's agreement with us states—”

“I know what it says. I signed it, remember? But I didn't know that it would entail playing dress-up and parading around in front of a lot of rich...” She cut off her sharp words and set down her fork. “I just want to help people, James. Maybe I should just go back to my little clinic in LA and do what I set out to do.”

“You could do that, yes. But you would be letting down a whole lot of people. People like Freya.” He steeled himself and went for the jugular. “Children like Leo.”

Mila's breath hissed in, eyes widening in shock and dismay. “Is that a threat?”

“What? Hell, no. What do you take me for?” He dragged a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair. “Forget I asked that. I know exactly what you think of me.”

“Then give me a reason not to.” There was an element of pleading in her voice—maybe about the past, maybe not. But the time for confession was over. Not that there'd ever really been an opportunity once he'd broken things off. Truthfully, he hadn't wanted to. The shame of the lifestyle he'd once led and the consequences of it—real or made up—and his own screwed-up family had made him choose to remain silent about Cindy.

He'd loved Mila too much back then to subject her to the ugliness that had gone on behind the scenes to avoid a scandal for his famous parents. When he had refused to go to Cindy and offer to pay her to have an abortion, his father had done so instead. Only Cindy hadn't been pregnant. But she had threatened to sue his parents and had even secretly taped the conversation between her and Michael, saying she was going to sell it to the highest bidder unless James agreed to marry her.

In order to spare Mila the humiliation of being dragged through the mud right along with him, he'd ended their engagement. And somehow the whole mess had just gone away. He had no doubt his father had shelled out some ungodly sum of cash to make that happen. By the time he'd found out Cindy had never been pregnant at all, Mila had been long gone, and James had never heard another word from her.

He realized she was still looking at him, waiting for his response. “All I can tell you is that the way this regatta was laid out wasn't my idea. But I think it could benefit both of our clinics. It's one night, Mi. Surely you can stand to sail with me one more time. Once we dock and go on shore, we can do the obligatory dance to kick off the gala, head to our own separate corners of the ballroom and go home unscathed.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment. “It's not that...” She gave a rueful grin. “Okay, so it is partially that. But the worst thing is that you kept this to yourself until you couldn't hide it any longer. You could have trusted me with the truth.”

“I had some idea of how you might respond.”

This time she laughed. “Okay, so you got me there. So much for not reacting.”

“Excuse me?”

She waved away his question. “Never mind. So we get on your boat in our black-tie best, eat a few hors d'oeuvres for the benefit of some wealthy donors, and then when the gala is under way...”

“Then when the gala is under way...we dance.”

She shook her head. “We dance badly. So badly they let us off the hook almost immediately.”

“The worst anyone has ever seen.”

Mila picked up her fork and cut into her fried chicken. “All I can say is that you'd better make it look believable. And the bad dancer isn't going to be me, mister. It's going to be all you.”

He laughed. A spark of the old Mila had just emerged from the ashes of the past, an energetic playfulness that he'd missed more than he'd realized. For the most part he'd seen only the professional self-assured Mila of the here and now. Except during those kisses.

Oh, she'd been knocked for a loop all right. He'd sensed it. And he'd been knocked just as hard.

That was one of the reasons he agreed their dance should be short and sweet. A quick, awkward shuffle that would get them off the floor as fast as possible.