The Perfect Wife and Mother?
Caroline Anderson
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
IT HAD been a good wedding.
Ryan was surprised. He’d been dreading it, in a way. Since Ann had died, weddings weren’t his favourite thing. He was OK till they got to the ‘till death do us part’ bit, then he was inclined to go to pieces inside.
Strangely, this time he hadn’t. Time healing and all that? Maybe. Maybe it was just because Jill and Zach so obviously belonged together. Maybe it was because this time the children had been with him and had been fidgety and he’d had to entertain them. Maybe it was all sorts of things that he couldn’t account for.
Whatever the reason, it had been a lovely wedding. He shrugged into his white coat, peered at his reflection in the little mirror behind the door and finger-combed his hair.
It was too short, really, but it had been so hot and he’d had it cut for the wedding. It sprang back now, tawny and rebellious—streaked paler by the sun—and he gave up. When it was longer he’d be able to make it co-operate. For now, it just stuck up with that wiry kink in it and that was the way it was. Still, it suited him in a way, made him look younger than his thirty-five years. He searched his face thoughtfully. Was he imagining it or were the lines of grief fading?
About time. It had been two years now, just over. Two long, lonely, heartbreaking years. The children had been more accepting of Ann’s death, but he’d challenged God at every turn. It hadn’t helped. He’d still woken up every morning alone.
Perhaps it was time to change that. A little light flirtation, perhaps? Maybe an affair? Nothing wild, just a discreet liaison with a woman who understood the rules.
A bit of ego-massage.
Yeah.
He grinned at himself—pleased with the idea—and his eyes sparkled back, green light dancing in their depths.
A woman. His gut tightened at the thought, and he chuckled softly. Would he even remember what to do?
Ginny found the accident and emergency department and looked around. Already, at eight-thirty in the morning, it was bustling with life.
Good. She couldn’t bear standing around all day with nothing to do. That was why she’d chosen A and E. Now to find her boss.
It wasn’t difficult. She sort of fell over him, really. One minute she was walking along the corridor minding her own business and wondering where she should go to find him, the next a door opened and a tall, fair-haired man walked smack into her path.
Literally.
His hands came up and grabbed her shoulders, her breasts bounced off his iron-hard chest, and sensation exploded inside her.
Heat—Lord, yes, such heat! Not body heat but power, coiled energy, sheer sex appeal. And strength, from the hands gripping her shoulders to steady her to the muscles of his chest bunching beneath her flattened palms. Gentleness, too, his hands relaxing instantly but staying there—cupping her shoulders with their long, blunt fingers.
Stunned, confused for a second, and yet unwillingly fascinated, Ginny stepped back and looked up—and found herself transfixed by the most astonishingly green eyes she had ever seen.
Funny, they hadn’t seemed so green at her interview. And now, she realised, they were more than green. They were interested.
‘Dr O’Connor?’ she murmured. ‘I’m Virginia Jeffries—your new SHO?’
Ryan felt as if he’d been hit over the head by a rock. One minute he was dreaming of a woman—any woman—to lighten his life, and the next minute—bang!—there was a woman in his arms.
And what a woman! Soft, cloud-grey eyes framed by long black lashes untainted by mascara, dark glossy hair swinging sleekly to her chin, a soft, full mouth curved in a smile of greeting—he might as well die now and go to heaven.
Had she really been so lovely at her interview? He didn’t remember. How strange that he could have been unaware of her as a woman. Impossible. Lord, he must have been unconscious at the time!
He remembered himself and let her go, stepping back out of harm’s way and sucking in his first breath for almost half a minute. ‘Um—hi, there,’ he managed inanely, and could have kicked himself. Damn, had it really been so long since he’d chatted up a woman that he couldn’t remember how to talk to one?
Yes—but more to the point she was a junior colleague, and he would do well to remember that. No cosying up to this one, no matter how good she might feel squashed up against his chest.
His body was busy disagreeing. He buttoned his coat to allow it a little privacy until he had time to argue about it. Meanwhile he had work to do and an impression to create—if he could just unscramble his tonsils and get the words