Читать книгу London's Most Eligible Doctor - Annie O’neil - Страница 11

“IT HURTS!” THE teenager’s face was a picture of pure unadulterated agony. She was on the floor, knees slightly bent, back hunched over, and a wash of tears wetting her cheeks.

“It looks like it hurts,” Cole agreed. He was never one of these doctors who brushed away the pain. If it hurt it hurt. Plain as. Apart from which the poor girl’s foot was already thick with heat and swelling. If he had to guess? A serious sprain—level two. A possible tear in the ATFL? Nothing life-altering, but it would certainly keep her out of pointe shoes for a couple of months, and for a young girl like this—thirteen or fourteen—it would feel like a lifetime. He looked up at the mother, who also had tears in her eyes. He raised his eyebrows in lieu of asking what had happened.

“I dropped her before we reached the sofa.”

“You mean you carried her in here?” Cole was impressed. It was a bit of a hike from the pavement.

“We were just about there and …” Her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

“You did well. No additional harm done. Just a bit of ego bruising, from the looks of things.” He nodded to the mother before quickly returning his attention to her daughter. “You’re all right, darlin’, aren’t you?” The teen gave an unconvinced nod before Cole looked back at her mother. “Shall we get her up and into an exam room?”

“Please. I am so—The day’s just been … I tried …”

Cole rose, put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. Parents were often more traumatized than their child. From the looks of the number pinned on her daughter’s chest she’d been at the London Ballet Grand Prix. The biggest day on a young ballerina’s calendar. There would be no scholarships or job offers for her this year.

“Let me help. Can I have your arm?”

Cole looked down at the sound of Lina’s softly accented voice. She was totally focused on the girl.

“What piece were you doing?” Lina instinctively sought to distract the girl from her injury.

Cole moved round to help Lina raise the girl from the ground but watched curiously to see how she dealt with a traumatized dancer. They shared common ground. It could be useful.

“I was doing the ‘Spring Concerto.’” The girl only just held back a sob.

“Vivaldi?” Lina’s face lit up. “What a wonderful choice. And your contemporary piece?” She sat back on her heels and looked at the girl seriously. “You did have a contemporary piece, right?”

“It was ‘Spiegel im Spiegel.’”

“Are you kidding? That’s one of my favorites. I used to dance to that one a lot.”

“Used to?” The girl swiped away some of her tears, missing Lina’s microscopic wince.

“What’s your name?” Lina asked.

“Vonnie.”

“Beautiful.” She tucked an arm around the girl’s small waist and began to raise her into a wheelchair she must have brought in. Resourceful. Cole found himself beginning to rethink the “just a favor” part of his agreement. Maybe she would be a good hire.

“I’m Lina. Shall we get you to X-ray?”

It was all Cole could do not to laugh. Lina didn’t have the slightest clue where X-ray was and how she’d magicked a wheelchair out of nowhere was impressive … a picture of confidence. And, more importantly, she’d engaged Vonnie enough to begin to stem the flow of tears. Impressive for someone who hadn’t seemed keen to spend her day with working dancers.

“Actually, can you put any weight on it?” Cole was the doctor here. Probably wise to take charge of this scenario.

Vonnie wrapped an arm round Lina’s shoulder and, with Cole’s help, heaved herself up.

“Have you already put ice on it? Kept it elevated on the ride over here?”

“Yes,” Vonnie snuffled. “As soon as it ha-ha-happened!”

Uh-oh. Those tears were back again.

“Lina, I’ll take Vonnie to X-ray, all right?”

The young girl twisted round, her face wreathed in anxiety, one of Lina’s hands clutched in her own. “No! Please don’t make her go. She understands me.”

Lina looked over at Cole and gave him the Polish version of a Gallic shrug.

“Fine. But you’ll have to leave the room during the X-ray.” Cole stepped away from the handles of the wheelchair and handed over steering duty to Lina. She wanted to work here? She could prove it. “I’ll lead the way, shall I?”

Cole tipped his head from side to side as he took in the extent of the injury. Swelling could hide things, but X-rays didn’t lie. He’d been right. It was a typical grade-two ballerina sprain—a tear of the anterior talofibular ligament with lateral swelling.

“So what do you say? Eight weeks until she dances again?”

“Mmm … something like that.”

In the tiny dark room, with only the X-ray board spreading a low-grade wash of light, having Lina so close, Cole had to rethink how wise a move it would be to hire her. He was attracted to her. And not just your average gee-you’re-good-looking sort of attraction. He was fighting a Class-A desire to spin her round, pull her into his arms and find out how she tasted, how she would respond to his touch. None of which would really be appropriate in a professional environment.

“It’ll be hard for her to hear … on top of missing out at the Grand Prix.”

“Believe me, I’ve delivered my share of bad news.”

Lina noticed Cole’s change of tone instantly. Almost felt it, they were so close. There was something deep-seated in his words. Grief? Rage? She couldn’t quite tell which, but maybe the rumors about him fighting demons was true. Not such a lighthearted Southern gent after all.

“I’d better get out of your way so you can let her know.”

“Yes, that’d be great.” Cole batted away the words, “I mean, I need to do this with the patient … Protocol,” he added, as if it were necessary. She knew the drill. She wasn’t a doctor so why should she have access to Vonnie’s appointment? It was for her mother to be there for her, and from the sound of approaching voices she would shortly be with her.

“Okay, well … it was nice to meet you. I guess I’ll wait to hear from you?”

She turned to give him a goodbye grin and got as far as turning. Right down to her very toes she felt the impact of the aquamarine of his eyes. A shame it would be the last time she was going to see them. A shame about a lot of things.

“How long has it been?” Cole’s voice broke into the quiet, indicating she should follow him to his office.

“Since what?”

“Since you’ve had a proper meal?”

Lina stiffened.

A while.

But not because of—Oof. Honestly? She balled up her jacket and protectively clutched it to her tummy. As if that would stop the jig-jag of emotions bouncing around in there. She liked eating as much as the next person. She just hadn’t been able to get it together and money was tight. Supertight. Things she most certainly wasn’t going to admit to Mr. Doesn’t-Like-to-Poke-His-Nose-Into-Other-People’s-Business. Ha! That’d be about right.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say otherwise.” The puppy whined. Cole pulled the wicker basket up from the floor to have a peek and give the pooch’s muzzle a little rub. Not that he was growing fond of the thing.

“Look.” He gave Lina a pointed look. “This guy needs some grub and so do I. Why don’t you join us for dinner? My treat.”

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Lina’s tummy rumbled. Loudly.

Cole grabbed a couple of charts and a prescription pad from his desk before squaring himself to her. “After I finish with Vonnie, join me. Us. I know a little place down the road. Go have a nosy around Reception while you’re waiting. See what you think. Consider it part two of your interview. You don’t have the job yet.”

Er … “Okay.” Lina said the word to his back as he headed out of the office but got a thumbs-up as he disappeared round the corner. Hmm …

The puppy whimpered again and Lina found herself gently extracting him from his willow basket nest.

Poor little thing had a splint on his tiny back leg and looked terrifically sorry for himself. She gave an appreciative snort. “We all have our moments. Don’t we, Puppy?” Now, to see what the future had in store …

A good nosy around and Lina felt none the wiser. Actually, it hadn’t been much of a snoop session. She’d just gone into the reception area, plopped herself and Puppy down on one of the—very nice—sofas and thumbed through a magazine or two. Sitting behind the reception desk would have seemed too much like interest. It would have been akin to acknowledging how much she really needed the job. So reading magazines and enjoying the serene atmosphere, now that most of the practitioners had gone for the day, was what she did, happily enjoying the latest celebrity gossip and fashion mags … And then she hit Dance Monthly.

The cover story nearly sent her running for the hills: “Down and Out: Are the Fallen Forgotten?”

Against her will, tears sprang to her eyes. They may as well have put her face on the cover. Talk about cruel! She fought the growing tickle in her throat and nose, tightened her eyes, scrunched her forehead as much as she could, willing the pain to go away. Would there ever come a day when things wouldn’t hurt this much? It was hard to believe. Impossible even.

“Dr. Manning said you were still here!” A tearstained but smiling Vonnie appeared in Reception with a pair of crutches and her leg done up in a pneumatic walker. Lina jumped to her feet and shook away the remains of her own tears. She didn’t know why, but having helped Vonnie, for even a few moments earlier, had given her a boost. It would hardly do for the teen to find her blubbing on her own.

“Remember not to put any weight on that for three weeks!”

Cole appeared beside Vonnie with a bag of what she assumed to be treatment aids. Cooling gels, compression wraps, anti-inflammatories. She knew the drill.

“I know.” Vonnie sighed melodramatically, and rolled her eyes in Lina’s direction before singsonging, “RICE, RICE, RICE, RICE, RICE!”

“That’s right, young lady,” Cole replied in a stentorian tone Lina hadn’t heard from him before. “And what does it stand for?”

“OMG, I practically came out of the womb knowing what that stood for!”

Cole crossed his arms and gave her a very good “I’m waiting” face. Lina could easily see him being a parent, willing to wait as long as it took for the child to clean their room, finish their homework, whatever … She wondered what—No, she didn’t. She didn’t wonder that at all!

“Rest, ice, compression and elevation. Are you happy?” Vonnie’s tone was more teasing than truculent so whatever they’d discussed in the exam room had put her in a better mood. Her mother emerged with coats and handbags and a couple of tutus Lina hadn’t noticed before.

“Ooh, look at these—they are wonderful!” Lina couldn’t help herself.

“Do you really think so?” Vonnie’s mum flushed with pleasure as Lina nodded emphatically. “I made them.”

“They’re amazing.” Lina meant it. From the very bottom of her heart. Her own mother, to save money on the countless tutus she’d required, had stitched and stitched and stitched for her, as well. “You’ve got a wonderful mother, Vonnie.” Lina gave the girl’s shoulder a squeeze. “You make sure you let her know how much you appreciate her.”

“I will!” Vonnie replied, working her way across Reception and out the door. She might, mused Lina. Or she might not. Lina hoped she had done the latter, but was never sure it had been enough. One day … she would let her mother know just how heartfelt her gratitude was. One day.

“So, I guess that’s us! Just another day at En Pointe!” Cole shrugged on a wool blazer, scooped up the puppy in his basket from the sofa and gestured with his head toward the front door with a smile. “Are you ready?”

Cole took about three seconds to examine the menu before offering the waitress a smile and his order.

“I’ll have the spaghetti carbonara, a fresh salad, some garlic bread and—uh—Rover, here, will have a bit of plain chicken and some rice. In a bowl. Is that doable?”

“Not a problem.”

It was easy enough for Lina to see that anything Cole or “Rover” asked for wouldn’t be a problem for the waitress, who had plonked herself down in the spare chair between the two of them. Lina may as well have been invisible for all the attention the waitress was paying her. Not that she minded. Going along to a job interview she’d been cajoled into was one thing, but being dragged out—okay, well, being blackmailed into going out to dinner was another.

“Who’s the little puppy?” The server had on her best baby-talk voice now. “You’re the little puppy! You’re the little puppy!”

So much for the restaurant’s no-dogs policy.

The waitress had already made a puppy-exception rule, and brought the little guy a bowl of water and a couple of itty-bitty raw carrots to gnaw on in case he was teething. Right now the pup’s head was resting on the brim of the basket, lending him more supercute factor than anyone—or anything—should be allowed.

Cute factor or no, Lina was there for the sole purpose of securing the job. That was it.

“Lina?” Cole tipped his head in the waitress’s direction. It was her turn to order. She’d scanned the prices and hadn’t even bothered to look at the menu choices. One entrée was the equivalent of her weekly food budget.

“Don’t worry.” Cole reached across and covered her hand in his. “I’ll take it out of your first paycheck.”

Lina tugged her hand away and clenched it in her lap. She wasn’t comfortable accepting help … but it had been ages since she’d had a well-made restaurant meal. Gone were the days of being feted by London’s social elite.

“The gnocchi, please. And a rocket salad.” They were the least expensive items, but with the added bonus of reminding her of pierogi. Pierogi! Her mouth watered at the thought of her mother’s pierogi. One day … she’d go home one day. Lina pursed her lips and handed the waitress her menu, who gave her a cursory glance, scribbled something on her notepad, then whirled off with a smile expressly for Cole’s benefit.

Lina focused her attention on the puppy. Neutral territory. That’s what she needed. Cole’s hand on hers had been too close to feeling something—wanting something. She hadn’t realized how curative the simple touch of a hand could be.

“He doesn’t look like a Rover.”

“No?” Cole rubbed a finger along the little guy’s head. “What does he look like?”

As if by design, they both crossed their arms, leaned back and considered the puppy. He had a white muzzle that broadened into a wide stripe that led up to his forehead. Black took over from there. He had little brown arches over each eye, white paws and appeared slightly affronted at this very obvious inspection.

“Vladimir,” Lina pronounced.

“Horace,” Cole countered.

Lina shook her head. “No. He is not a Horace.”

“How do you know he’s not a Horace?”

“I just know.” Lina gave Cole her best I-just-know look, then tipped her head to the left as if it would give her a different perspective. The puppy opened his eyes wider as if in anticipation of her coming out with the right name.

“Wojciech.”

“I can’t even pronounce that.” Cole laughed. “How about Spot?”

“No!” Lina protested. “That’s lazy. And look. Where do you see spots on this guy?” She lifted him up out of the basket. His back leg was in a little splint. She wanted to ask what had happened but felt herself already getting too involved with the puppy and with Cole. They both looked at her as if she held all the answers to the question at hand.

Despite herself, she couldn’t help giving the puppy a little cuddle. It was impossible not to. She held him up again so that they were face-to-face. “What’s your name, huh? Jak masz na imię?” The puppy scrunched his face into a mess of wrinkles before yawning widely in her face. Then he sneezed. Twice.

“Maybe he doesn’t speak Polish.”

“Maybe he doesn’t speak American.” She kept her gaze on the puppy.

Cole rearranged the cutlery at his place setting with a grin. “Go on, then, Polish puppy-whisperer. What’s his name?”

Lina looked across at Cole once she had given the puppy a good long stare. “Igor.”

“Igor,” Cole repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“Yes. Igor.”

For the second time that day Lina’s mood lifted as that smile of his peeled apart his lips and heated her insides as if he’d unleashed a swathe of warm sunlight.

“I like it. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a puppy name.”

Lina handed Igor across to him, careful not to get his injured leg caught on anything. “No. You have yourself a puppy name. And a puppy.”

Cole cradled the dog in the crook of his arm, careful to adjust the little splinted leg so it could lie along his forearm. “Didn’t I tell you? Part of the new job is dog walking. Once his leg heals, of course. Only until I find him a new home, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Lina replied dubiously. Then the cogs started to whirl in a direction she didn’t like. She could feel the smile on her lips press into a thin line. Part of her physio was to take regular walks. Longer and longer. She should be doing at least two or three kilometers a day by now. Cole would know that. And, having watched her walk to the restaurant, he would probably have assessed that she hadn’t been taking as many walks as she had been advised to. She’d done countless laps of her flat but going out there—out here—where everyone could see her, judge her … she just hadn’t been up to it. Igor pricked up his ears and gave her an expectant look. Her eyes shifted to Cole’s face and he looked virtually the same—minus the furry muzzle. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Does anyone ever say no to you, Dr. Manning?”

The smile disappeared entirely from his eyes. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

When Lina excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, Cole waited for the waitress to take away their empty plates and give a farewell coo to Igor before pulling his coat on. He was pretty sure he knew the server’s life story by now but could honestly say he would leave the restaurant being none the wiser about the private life of Lina Keminsky. Not that prying had been his intention. They’d stuck to neutral topics when their food had arrived. And as much as Cole knew about how Reception worked, which, as it had turned out, wasn’t all that much. He’d taken over the practice about a year ago from an old medical school friend who had run off to get married—a recurring theme at En Pointe—and things had been running like a well-oiled ship up until now. Not that the past hour with Lina hadn’t lent a certain softening round the edges to the day.

It was pretty easy to tell she didn’t like to talk about herself and she’d quickly sussed out the same was true for him—or perhaps she simply wasn’t interested, which made a nice change. At home, or at least back in the United States, in the town where he’d grown up everyone knew everything about him. Back home everyone knew he’d had a fiancée—had being the crucial word. At twenty-six she’d been too young to die. Far too young. And her family was never going to let him forget it. So the fact that people generally kept themselves to themselves in London suited him to a T.

If what had happened to Lina had happened back home in North Carolina? There would’ve been a line of people at the door to her apartment, hands filled with bowls of potato salad, a platter of Grandma’s best fried chicken, a warm, tea-towel-wrapped plate filled with buttery collard greens, someone’s Great-Auntie Kay’s to-die-for double-decker chocolate cake with the cherry filling people talked about so much at the church socials, and so on and so on until before you knew it the whole thing would turn into an Item of Interest in the “What’s the Buzz” column of Maple Cove’s local gazette. There was no escaping the caring embrace of a community like that one. Especially when your African-American father and Irish mother were pillars of the community. The local judge and the most sought-after doula? There was no surprise when the couple’s son became a doctor engaged to the town’s most promising lawyer! A smile twitched on his lips, then tightened.

He wasn’t part of that community anymore.

He felt his teeth dig into his lower lip. It wasn’t worth it. Opening that particular can of worms. His parents were good folk. They were just ambitious. For themselves and for him. So what if they hadn’t been a huggy-kissy family? He’d made it, hadn’t he? Decorum, status, success. They were paramount in the Manning household. And now that he was a doctor running one of Britain’s most elite specialist clinics?

Nothing. None of it mattered.

The straight As at school, the letterman’s jacket weighed down with athletic achievements, the Ivy League education, the long-awaited proposal … none of the graft he’d put in to win an approving smile or a hug had meant a bean after the accident. His parents had made that more than clear.

The flash of grief tugged his mouth downward.

So, no. He didn’t like howdy-do-and-what-about-you? chitchat. Big-city anonymity had been suiting him just fine up to now.

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 time, apart from feeling scared out of her wits, she felt—just a teensy tiny bit—as if she just might be looking forward to a brand-new day.