Читать книгу Tempted By Dr Patera - Tina Beckett, Tina Beckett - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTHIS WAS DEAKIN’S HOUSE?
She set a skillet on a burner to heat and gritted her teeth.
Why hadn’t Theo told her? She’d assumed it was a relative’s house or something. But the tiny white building behind the opulent house was perfect, and she loved staying there. The formal manicured grounds here made the Serenity Gardens look like something out of a dollhouse, although it was a gorgeous setting. The clinic’s grounds were informal, while the house she was staying so close to screamed money. Even the boathouse had a tiny apartment over it.
She had never really stopped to think about who on the island could afford something like this. Theo had said he and his friends’ parents had been part of something called Mopaxeni Shipping. They’d all been wealthy. She didn’t know the whole story, and although the clinic was state of the art she had gotten the impression that they were only scraping by and looking for fundraisers.
Like that calendar over the desk in the main entryway at the clinic that boasted photos of twelve very hunky locals. Some of them were doctors, or employees of the clinic, and others were firefighters or involved in other lines of public service.
Deakin was somewhere in the main house at this very moment. It had been more than obvious that he wasn’t happy with her being here. The look on his face when he’d realized exactly which cottage Petra was talking about had been priceless...and embarrassing. But unless she just wanted to leave the island there wasn’t much she could do about it. And she was enjoying the work far too much to let Deakin’s grumpiness drive her away.
The property was usually rented out when Deakin wasn’t there, Theo had finally admitted when she’d called him and confronted him about the cottage. He hadn’t been positive Deakin would come back when he’d offered it to her, and they’d needed her at the clinic. And for that to happen she’d needed someplace to sleep. It had been the only logical solution.
That didn’t make it the most comfortable one now that Deakin was home. He’d claimed it didn’t bother him to have her staying there, but his voice told another story.
Cracking an egg, she listened to the satisfying sizzle as it hit the heated oil, the earthy scent filling the air, making her mouth water.
She made her way to the refrigerator for some orange juice, pulling a small glass from a cupboard on the way. She could do this. From what she’d heard about Deakin, a plastic surgeon who specialized in treating burns victims, he didn’t stay in one place for any length of time. He probably wouldn’t be here for more than a week or two. As soon as he could Deakin would be on his way.
He didn’t like the island. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. It was in the way his eyes shifted from thing to thing, that ever-present frown on his face. Something here held bad vibes for him.
Maybe he’d been injured on the island?
It didn’t matter.
She hadn’t come to the island to speculate on its residents, past or present. She’d come here to escape.
No. Not to escape. To start over.
There was a difference. Starting over involved staying here on this earth, not—
Dammit.
A piercing shriek shattered her thoughts in an instant, and her brain struggled to locate the source.
A smoke alarm, just behind her.
Why...?
Oh, no! Where there’d once been the satisfying crackle of a cooking egg there was now billowing smoke coming from the stovetop.
But that alarm...
God! Her ears!
The racket was huge and dramatic, with flashing strobe lights and a screeching caterwaul that reminded her of a seagull. Or maybe a million of them.
The hot oil wasn’t actually on fire, thank heavens, so she rushed over and grabbed the pan. She was hurrying toward the sink with it just as the front door burst open.
Deakin appeared, stopping in his tracks as his eyes jerked from her face and landed on the pan, which was now safely under the tap.
He came over, putting both hands on the edge of the counter, his breath seesawing in and out. “What happened?”
She could barely make out the words over the alarm.
“I was trying to cook dinner, but...” She had to yell, her vocal cords straining. “Can you turn that thing off?”
He pulled a remote from the front pocket of his chinos and aimed it toward the still blaring siren.
She sucked down a deep breath, her ears ringing in the sudden silence that followed. “Wow. Why didn’t you just turn it off from the house? I think you got an industrial-sized alarm by mistake.”
“No mistake. It’s safer.”
Her head tilted. Safer? Okay...whatever he said.
She gave a rueful gesture toward the skillet. “I’m sorry. I’ll reimburse you, of course, if the pan is ruined.”
“It’s nothing. I thought the whole cottage was on fire.”
It was then that she realized his upper lip was damp with perspiration and the tight lines running down the side of his face weren’t from irritation but from something far worse. Fear.
Of what?
A smoke alarm went off, Lea, that’s what.
He didn’t want to lose his home to her stupidity. But she had never seen an alarm like that. Actually, when she looked closer she also saw ceiling sprinklers, jutting down at regular intervals.
“I guess I’m lucky the sprinklers didn’t go off and give you water damage on top of everything else. I really am sorry.”
He brushed aside her words. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay. The sprinklers are set with a delay. If the alarm isn’t shut down in ten minutes they engage, and then the fire department is notified.”
There was a tense element to his voice, that made her take a closer look at the way he was perspiring.
A warning tingle started at the back of her head and traveled up over the top. She shut off the faucet. Maybe that was what those scars were from. A house fire. It would explain a lot. His apathy toward the island. His reluctance to return, according to Theo.
Bad memories?
If it had been the big house or this particular cottage, they had been rebuilt to perfection. They looked like they’d been standing on this rocky crag for the last century. Except for the boathouse. That was different from the main house and the cottage, even though it still blended in. It just seemed newer, somehow. But there was no way she was going to ask.
“I’m fine.” She forced another smile. “Unfortunately my meal didn’t fare quite as well.”
“The smoke detector certainly didn’t approve.” A beep-beep accompanied a few more manipulations of the remote control. “There. I’ve reset it for you.”
Just in case his panicked reaction wasn’t all in her imagination, she decided to put his mind at ease. “Thanks. I’ll stay far away from the stove tonight so I don’t trip it again. Cold cuts it is.”
He paused for a few long seconds before glancing at her, and sure enough his muscles seemed to relax all at once. “My aunt’s moussaka is heating in the oven at the main house. There’s more than enough if you want to share.”
She tried to ignore the way her mouth watered. Moussaka was one of her favorite dishes. “Are you sure? I don’t mind just making a sandwich.”
If he was as uneasy about having her at the cottage as she thought he was, it was up to her to make sure her stay was as discreet as possible. Especially since there wasn’t anywhere else for her to stay. At least not now. Maybe in another week or two something would open up and she could leave Deakin alone in his cottage on the hill.
“I’m sure. I was going to offer earlier, but I wasn’t sure what your plans were.”
“My plans are a bit charred now,” she said, nodding at the sink. “You rent the house out, Theo said? The cottage as well?”
“Yes. Since my parents are both gone it’s the best way I can think of to keep them occupied, so their upkeep is not left completely up to my aunt.”
His tight jaw said that his parents were “gone” as in deceased. She was surprised Theo hadn’t mentioned that.
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
“It’s been a while, but thank you. They died in a car accident on the mainland.”
They died together.
She closed her eyes for a second, trying to suppress a wave of grief. At least one of them hadn’t left the other wondering where they’d gone wrong. Or if they could have done something—anything—differently.
Not a healthy avenue to pursue.
With as much PTSD as she’d treated, you’d think she’d be able to recognize it in herself. The problem was, she did recognize it. There just wasn’t anything she could do about it. Things were the way they were, and no railing against fate was going to change it.
Mark was dead. His life cut short in a single defining moment.
Six months before they were supposed to be married.
“It’s hard losing someone you care about.”
The words came out of their own volition, making her frown. She needed to change the subject before it brought back even more memories. Ones that were better off left behind her.
“So, your aunt is a good cook?”
He pushed away from the counter, his tenseness evaporating. “One of the best on the island. Besides managing this place, she caters special events here on the island.”
“Wow. I think I remember Theo saying something about the caterer being related to you. Is that your aunt?”
“If he called her Cecilia Patera, then, yes. She’s really the only woman on the island who cooks for a living. Her moussaka is out of this world. They even serve some of her meze at Stavros’s taverna. You’ve been there?”
“Only once. The owner was a little gruff.”
Deakin’s head tilted. “Really? That doesn’t sound like Stavros. But I guess everyone can have an off day.”
The man hadn’t been mean, he’d just answered someone a little more curtly than she’d liked and that had been enough for her. She hadn’t been back since.
“I’m sure that’s what it was. Anyway, since I have destroyed my sense of hearing as well as your frying pan, I think I’ll take you up on your offer of moussaka, if it’s really okay. I can just bring a portion home and eat it here, though. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if it was an inconvenience. Or I could make you a quick omelet if you have your heart set on eggs.”
“I actually love moussaka, so no. Eggs just seemed quick and easy.”
The right side of his mouth went up. It was then she realized that she couldn’t see his burns at all. Because that side of his face was angled away from her. But even if that crooked smile was a result of whatever had happened to him, it didn’t make it any less sexy.
“Not so quick and not so easy, from the looks of it.”
“Only because I was distracted,” she protested with a smile.
He glanced toward the television, which was off. “Oh? By what?”
By thoughts of orange juice and...and her mysterious neighbor. But she was not going to say that out loud. He would kick her out if he suspected she was daydreaming about him.
She wasn’t. She was just...thinking about life and the strange ways that paths intersected. And sometimes came to a dead end.
She shifted as a familiar heaviness in her chest made itself known.
There was nothing you could have done, Lea.
The voice inside her head came back with its customary rejoinder: How do you know that for sure?
She couldn’t know. She would never know. And even if she became convinced she’d missed a whole barrage of symptoms—which she hadn’t—it was too late now.
Deakin was still waiting for her response.
She glanced out the window over the sink and caught sight of the gorgeous sunset. “By that.” She motioned toward the sight, mentally crossing her fingers.
He put his elbows on the counter to get low enough to look out the window. “It is beautiful. I have the same view from the kitchen in the main house.”
He might think it was a pretty view, but it didn’t go deeper than an objective observation. How did she know that? There had been no emotion in the statement. No softening of his eyes. No smile the way he had when she’d changed the subject a few minutes ago.
“It’s pretty breathtaking.” She tried again to prod him lightly, not even sure what she was looking for.
“Yes, it is. Are you ready?” He had already turned away from the window, was coming around to the other side of the counter and checking the knobs on the stove.
“I already turned them off.”
“Sometimes they stick.”
No, they didn’t. She’d heard the click as they snapped off.
Rather than be offended by his double-checking, she felt a rush of sympathy go through her. More and more she was convinced that something bad had happened to him very close to home. And those scars were old, so it had been a while ago. Long enough for him to have stopped needing to check knobs on a stove. Or was it...?
Leaving the cottage, he indicated the way down a cobblestone pathway that led to the main house. The harsh heat of the day was giving way to cooler temperatures now that the sun was going down. Even so, she was very glad the cottage was air-conditioned.
“Have you been in the house itself yet?” he asked.
“No, but it’s beautiful from the outside.”
“Yes, my parents did a nice job on it when it was built.”
Her eyes skipped to the white boathouse near the shore. “You’re very lucky to live so close to the water. It’s a shame you aren’t here very often to enjoy it. I would be in that boat every chance I got.”
His steps faltered for a second, before he continued on. “I go out in it every time I’m home.”
“I bet it’s gorgeous out there on the water.”
“I guess it is.” He glanced back at her. “I’ll probably go out at least once while I’m here. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”
“Oh, I wasn’t angling for an invitation. I’m sorry if it came across that way.”
“It didn’t.”
Lea wasn’t sure how she felt about going out on the water with him. There was something about him that made her uneasy.
She decided to sidestep the subject without making it too obvious. “Did you grow up in this house?”
“Yes.”
She waited for him to elaborate, or tell her how long he’d lived there, but he didn’t. By the time she tried to think of something else to break what was becoming an uncomfortable silence they were at the front door. Dark and heavy, it loomed over the small porch.
Or maybe it was her thoughts that were dark.
The main house hadn’t seemed ominous before.
He opened it, motioning her through the entryway, and the feeling instantly went away. White tile flooring blended into equally white walls. It might have come across as spartan and cold except for the touches here and there of an azure blue that reminded Lea of the warm ocean waters that surrounded the island. It was there in a painting. In the pillows she could see through the arched doorway of the living room. It had been professionally decorated.
“I didn’t expect the inside to look like this.”
She couldn’t stop the words. She thought the cottage was lovely and homey, but this was head and shoulders above the quaintness of where she was staying. It was ultra-formal and elegant. And somehow it didn’t match Deakin at all.
He should be surrounded by brown furnishings and dark shadowy corners.
No, he shouldn’t. That would be depressing.
Except it wouldn’t. It would match what she sensed was inside him: hidden recesses that he revealed to no one.
She tensed. Hadn’t she come across that before? Looking back, she wasn’t sure how she could have missed those signs in Mark. Only she’d been young and in love, and Mark had had a way of flashing that carefree smile of his in a way that had seemed so genuine.
Wasn’t that how emotional scars in people were overlooked until it was too late?
As if on cue, Deakin turned back, his scars appearing in stark contrast as the light from the doorway poured over them. “How did you expect it to look?”
“Don’t get me wrong...it’s extremely elegant.” There was no way she could give voice to her thoughts from a moment earlier. No way. No how. “It’s just very different from the cottage.”
“My aunt had a hand in decorating the cottage. It’s where I normally live when I come here. The house is rented out most of the year. The people who were going to rent it this month backed out because of the earthquake.”
“Your aunt didn’t help decorate the main house.”
It was a statement. Not a question. There was no way the same person had had a hand in this house, although a skilled interior decorator could probably pull off two such divergent spaces.
“No.” He swept a hand around the foyer. “This was all my parents’ doing.”
He said it as if it was not the way he would have done things.
“Are you going to redo it?”
“No.”
The single word answer didn’t invite discussion. Instead she studied the textured paint on the walls and the pricey rugs on the floor and changed the topic to something a little more neutral.
“Your guests must love staying here.”
His eyes closed for a split second. In gratitude? She had no idea.
He tossed a set of keys and the remote he’d had at the cottage onto a nearby console table. “They seem to like it.”
“Is there another remote for the alarm at the cottage?” She allowed a glimmer of a smile to play across her face. “In case I decide to cook again at some point?” The scent of something warm and inviting curled around her nostrils. “Although if that heavenly aroma is what I think it is I may have to hire your aunt to cook all my meals for me.”
“I’m sure she would be happy to.”
Lea had a feeling he might be happy if she did that as well.
“Seriously, do you want the cottage stove to be off-limits? Just say the word. I don’t want you to worry about me setting the place on fire every time I’m in the kitchen.”
“I’m not.”
He wasn’t what? Worried? Because the stiff set of his posture as he walked in the direction of the living room said something different.
“I’ll give you a quick tour while dinner finishes heating.”
They went through the archway, and her eyes tracked from thing to thing.
“This space is pretty obvious...”
The blue pillows she’d noticed earlier were set in precise rows along the back of the couch. It reminded her of suture lines. She did her best to hide the shiver that went through her. It was only her imagination. Or maybe just a reaction to the whole smoke alarm encounter.
She almost hadn’t noticed that he’d shaved the stubble off his face sometime this evening. His hair was still on the longish side, but it was thick and glossy now, and her fingers suddenly itched to touch one of the dark wavy locks as he came to a stop. The man looked like a Greek god out of a legend.
She dragged her gaze back to the room when he turned to face her, and tried to shut the door on the shot of pure hormones that jetted through her.
Dust. Look for dust. A cobweb. Anything!
The perfectly square coffee table in front of her held a stack of magazines about boats, a white plaster lighthouse and a tray that held three blue candles. Not a speck of dust.
“Does your aunt clean the place after guests leave?”
“No, I hire a service to come in once a week. My aunt must have asked them to come in for my arrival.”
So he’d known exactly when he was coming home? Why had no one warned her before he arrived? “Does Theo know you’re here?”
“Not yet. I didn’t give him my exact itinerary. I figured I’d stop in at the clinic and then come straight home if it wasn’t overrun with patients. I hoped to catch him there, but obviously not if he’s taking a personal day. I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Patients seem to come in spurts. Some days we can hardly keep up. Other days we’re twiddling our thumbs—like this afternoon.”
“How are you getting to and from the clinic?”
She shifted her weight to the other foot. “Well, there’s a...um...a bicycle stored behind the cottage. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been borrowing it?”
“Why don’t you take the car? It’s there for guests—surely Cecilia told you about it?”
“She did, but I was worried about aftershocks right after I vacated my hotel. I figured I could navigate a bicycle off the road in case of a car accident or a traffic jam. And then, once that danger had passed, I’d just got used to riding in. It helps me enjoy the beauty of the island.”
“It’s not quite as beautiful as it once was.”
“You should have seen it right after the quake hit. It was awful.”
The memory of the ground shuddering beneath her feet, of plaster cracking and sheeting off the walls in her hotel room, stopped any lingering feeling of attraction in its tracks. She’d crawled under the bed, hoping the roof wasn’t going to cave in on top of her. It had seemed like forever before the ground tremors had subsided, when in reality it had probably only lasted a few minutes.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Her brows went up. “I’m sorry anyone had to go through it. It was terrible.”
“I’m sure it was.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “There was no way I could have come any sooner—my contract was unbreakable. I saw the reports on the news when I was sitting in a bar in Africa. Theo called as I was watching, and once I got off the phone with him I called everyone I could think of to see if they were okay.”
They walked through the door to the dining room—another opulent space, where a huge glass-topped table crouched beneath a low chandelier. The surface, like the coffee table in the living room, was devoid of dust or even a single smudged fingerprint.
It bothered her, somehow. This didn’t look like a place where a family might recount the minutiae of their day. Or where a child might spill a glass of milk and not live in fear of messing up something. Instead it reeked of formal place settings and expensive crystal. A place where business negotiations were hammered out.
Had Deakin eaten here as a child? God, she hoped not. She could just picture him eating a bowl of breakfast cereal all by himself. But maybe it hadn’t been that way at all. Maybe he was from a big family who laughed their way through life.
“Do you have more family on the island?”
“You mean siblings?” He shook his head. “Nope. I’m an only child.”
So no under the table kicking of a little sister or brother. No food fights or handing non-tasty morsels to the family dog. There was no sign that a pet of any kind had ever lived in this house.
Lea’s childhood home had been messy and chaotic, with dogs and rabbits and horse shows through the local club. But she wouldn’t trade it for the world. Medical school had been too grueling for her to have pets, but she certainly planned on having one or two once she got settled. In fact she and Mark had visited a shelter one time, just a week before he died.
Thank goodness they hadn’t adopted a pet that day.
A fresh bout of anger went through her, even though he’d been gone more than a year. Ten years from now she would probably feel just as bewildered, could understand the grief and anger of other loved ones who’d been left behind just as suddenly.
“I’m an only child as well.”
She wasn’t going to delve beyond that, because she didn’t know enough about him to trade childhood snapshots. Not yet, anyway. And probably not ever, since she wouldn’t see him again once she’d left the island.
A pang went through her at the thought of going back to Toronto. As much as she loved her parents and her adopted city, she had put down the first tiny threads of roots on Mythelios. The second she’d stepped onto the island there’d been a sense of home. Of belonging. Maybe because of her Greek heritage. But her savings would eventually run out and she would have to go back to work.
The question was where.
He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and turned toward her, propping his left shoulder against the door frame and crossing his arms. “It must have been quite an adjustment moving to Canada, then.”
She had to backtrack for a second to realize he was talking about her being an only child.
“In some ways. But I think it made it easier for me to adapt. Toronto has a lot of immigrants, but I went to school. I had to learn English quickly in order to survive. Sink or swim. I swam.”
And Mark hadn’t.
He pursed his lips. “You’ve left your position there, though. Where are you off to next? Back to Canada?”
It was as if he’d read her mind. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Her parents were there. And yet the last thing she wanted to do was face her and Mark’s old apartment. She’d have to, though, even if just to pack up her things. His belongings were long gone. Mark’s mom and dad had been tasked with the heartbreaking job of sorting through everything and deciding what to do with his personal items. She’d spent the week in a hotel to give them some privacy. That had been many months ago, but the sharp sting of those days still remained.
“I understand how that is.”
His arms dropped to his sides, his posture opening up as if he really did understand her uncertainty.
Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I think dinner is probably just about ready. Are you okay with eating out on the back deck? It should be cooling off outside by now.”
“Outside sounds wonderful.” She hoped her tone didn’t give away how relieved she was they were not to be seated at opposite ends of that enormous table.
The right side of his mouth kicked up in a way that said he was just as glad. “Good. Then if you’ll get the plates out of that cabinet by the sink, I’ll get the pan out of the oven.”
Opening the glass-fronted cabinet, she pulled down two ornate pieces of china, giving a quick wrinkle of her nose that she hoped he wouldn’t see. Maybe their conversation would be a little less brittle than the dinnerware. Maybe they could even put that awkward first meeting behind them and get off on a better foot. For as long as they both were here.
She grimaced at how close that was to another sentence. If Mark had lived they would be married. But he hadn’t. And they weren’t. And Lea had no plans to leap into another romance anytime soon.
Right now she just needed to focus on putting that painful period in her life behind her. While she never would have wished Mythelios’s earthquake on anyone, it had served to take her mind off herself and focus on doing good for those on the island. Didn’t she always tell her patients that giving back to others was a great way to derail self-pity? She should have taken a page from her own book months ago. But she hadn’t been ready to let go of the apartment which was a last connection to her fiancé.
She took a deep breath and accepted the steaming plate Deakin handed her with a murmured thank-you.
One thing was for sure, though. She was never getting involved with another man who carried a truckload of baggage. If she dated again, she was picking someone fun. Someone full of sunshine and light.
No brooding. No past trauma.
She gave a mental pinky-swear...to herself.
Happy, cheerful, and an eternal optimist. That was the best prescription she could think of.
And what better place to start than with herself?
