‘What happened to that fantastic opportunity to go into private practice with some of the country’s best plastic surgeons waiting for you once you’d qualified?’
‘I turned it down. It didn’t seem like the right thing for me any more. And as it happened, it was the best decision career-wise I ever made.’ As she talked her deep azure eyes lightened—eyes that had haunted his sleep for six long, unrelenting years.
Glancing at his watch, he told her, ‘I’d like to hear all about what you’ve been up to, but it’ll have to wait. Time’s speeding by.’ He strode along the corridor to the staff quarters and the door leading out to his cottage. He wanted to pretend she wasn’t right behind him. He needed space between them so he could put everything back into perspective. Fat chance. Hearing her trotting steps as her shorter legs tried to keep pace with his long ones made him smile inside, and he slowed down to accommodate her, as he’d used to before they’d crashed and burned.
‘Fi—’ Damn it. ‘Fiona, let me take those other bags.’ He reached for them, slipping them out of her grasp.
‘I can manage.’
‘I know, but humour me. I’m trying to be the perfect host.’
She smiled up at him, and his heart lurched. Just like that. A simple smile, and she’d tugged him even closer, had him remembering all sorts of sweet things about her.
Whoa. Go carefully. Put the barriers back up and keep your distance. Because, as much as he felt drawn to Fiona again, he couldn’t trust her not to trample on his feelings. In order to protect himself he had to remember to act professionally with her.
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