An Officer and a Millionaire / Mr Strictly Business: An Officer and a Millionaire / Mr Strictly Business

Chapter Three

“Simon?” Margie asked, blatantly ignoring Hunter. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine, fine. I was just explaining the situation to Hunter.”

“Good.” Though judging from the look on the younger man’s face at the moment, Margie thought he hadn’t been too happy with his grandfather’s explanation. Well, neither was she.

She hadn’t wanted to marry Hunter, but she’d done it for Simon. And whether Hunter believed it or not, the five million dollars hadn’t swayed her. What had convinced her to go along with Simon’s plan had been the lost, frightened look in the old man’s eyes that had convinced her to take part in what she’d recognized right away as a crazy plan.

And for the last year, she’d finally felt the sense of belonging she’d always wanted. She’d had a grandfather. A home. A place to call her own. People to care for—people who cared for her.

To Margie, that was priceless.

But she had to admit that being married to a Hunter who wasn’t around was far easier than being married to the man in person. Looking at him now, he seemed too…big. His shoulders, his broad chest, his piercing blue eyes.

His scowl.

Frowning right back at him, she then shifted her gaze to Simon and said simply, “The doctor’s here.”

“Blast it.” The older Cabot quickly picked up a sheaf of papers from atop his desk and busily started leafing through them. “Margie, tell him I’m too busy to see him today. Try me next week. Better yet, next month.”

She smiled, since she was more than accustomed to Simon’s frantic attempts to avoid his doctor. “There’s no getting out of it, Simon.”

“Is there a problem?” Hunter asked.

Margie reluctantly looked at him again, met his gaze and felt a bolt of something hot and wicked slice through her. The man had incredible eyes. Which, of course, meant nothing to her. Especially since great eyes did not make up for a crabby, arrogant nature. Still, he looked a little worried for his grandfather, and that was enough to touch Margie, so she hurried to reassure him. “No, it’s just his checkup. The doctor comes here to see Simon every couple of weeks since Simon can’t be trusted to keep an appointment in town.”

“I’m a busy man. Too busy to go see a damn pill pusher,” Simon muttered.

Hunter folded his arms over his impressive chest and asked, “Simon’s all right, though? Healthy?”

Margie nodded and told herself not to look at that wide chest or the muscles so clearly defined beneath the soft fabric of his black T-shirt. “Yes, he’s, uh…” She swallowed hard, cleared her throat nervously, then continued. “He’s recovered completely. The checkups are just routine now.”

“Routine,” Simon muttered again. “What’s routine about disrupting a man’s life every time he turns around—that’s what I want to know…”

“Good,” Hunter said. “I’m glad everything’s all right, but I’ll want to talk to the doctor myself, of course.”

“Why should you talk to him,” Simon questioned. “He’s my doctor and I don’t need another babysitter,” he added with a glare at Margie.

“Of course you will,” Margie told Hunter as they both ignored the grumbling older man. Weren’t they being polite all of a sudden, she thought. But she wasn’t fooled. There was still something dark and smoldering in Hunter’s eyes.

“Who’s in charge here, I want to know?” Simon demanded.

“That would be me,” a new voice announced.

Margie tore her gaze from Hunter’s to see Dr. Harris striding into the room with a wide smile on his creased face. His wild gray hair was forever sticking up in odd tufts all over his head, and his soft brown eyes looked magnified behind his glasses. He walked straight up to Hunter and shook his hand. “Good to see you back home, Hunter. It’s been too long.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, sliding a quick look at Margie, “it has.”

“Wasted your time coming out here,” Simon said, still shuffling papers. “Too busy for you today and don’t need any more pills, thanks.”

“Pay no attention to him, doctor,” Margie said smiling.

“I never do.” The doctor released Hunter’s hand, then pulled Margie in for a quick hug. “Don’t know what we would have done without your wife around here the last year or so, Hunter.”

She stiffened as Hunter’s gaze locked on her.

“Is that so?” he asked quietly.

“It is,” Simon put in.

“The woman’s a wonder,” Dr. Harris said. “Not only sees that your stubborn old goat of a grandfather does what he’s supposed to, but she also single-handedly helped us raise enough money to add an outpatient surgery annex to the clinic. Of course, she told us all how much you had to do with it.”

“Did she?” One dark eyebrow lifted as he studied her, and Margie fought to keep from fidgeting under that stare.

“She did.” Beaming now, the doctor added, “She let us all know that after Simon’s heart attack, you wanted to be sure the clinic had everything it needed so locals didn’t have to go into the city to be taken care of. Meant a lot to folks around here that you still think of Springville as your home.”

“Glad I could help,” Hunter said, tearing his gaze from Margie’s to look at the doctor.

“Simon always said how you’d start taking more of an interest in the town one day,” the man said with a clap on Hunter’s shoulder. “Seems he was right. So I just want to thank you personally—and not just for the clinic but for everything else you’ve done—”

“Everything else?” Hunter asked.

“Dr. Harris—” Margie spoke up quickly to cut the doctor off before he could say too much. “Didn’t you have other appointments today?”

“True, true,” the man was saying, still grinning his appreciation. “So I’d better get down to business. Just wanted you to know the whole town appreciates what you’re doing, Hunter. It’s made a difference. All of it.”

“All of it?” Hunter’s hard, cold gaze locked on Margie. “How much is all?”

“Aren’t you here to plague me?” Simon snapped. “Or are you going to stand there and talk to Hunter all day?”

The doctor chuckled. “He’s right. Why don’t you two go off somewhere together while I examine this crotchety patient of mine?” He winked at Hunter. “Lord knows if I had a pretty little wife I hadn’t seen in months, I’d want some alone time with her.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Hunter said, and Margie inhaled sharply.

She really didn’t want any more alone time with Hunter at the moment. In fact, she was good. She could have waited days, or maybe forever, to be alone with him again. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem as though she’d be getting that wish granted.

“Come on, honey,” he said, taking her elbow in a hard grip, “let’s go get ‘reacquainted.’”

She only had time to throw one quick look over her shoulder at Simon before Hunter started propelling her across the room. Simon gave her a thumbs-up signal and a Cheshire cat grin—not much as life preservers went but better than nothing.

Hunter’s legs were so long that she had to practically run to keep up with him, but Margie managed, barely. They slipped out of the study, and Hunter reached behind her to close the doors before he looked at her again.

Hard to believe, but there was both fire and ice in his eyes when he said, “You’ve got some explaining to do, babe.”

“I told you not to call me that.” If he thought she was going to simply curl up in a ball and whimper for mercy, he was sadly mistaken. He’d taken her by surprise when he’d shown up in the bathroom earlier, so she’d babbled too much. But she’d had time now to think. To gather her own sense of outrage along with her self-confidence. She hadn’t done anything wrong. But Hunter Cabot couldn’t say the same.

She took a quick look around the empty hallway, hardly noting the lavish furnishings that had, the first time she’d stepped into the castlelike Cabot home, completely intimidated her. How far she’d come, she thought idly, that she now felt at home here, with the rose-patterned Oriental rugs dotted on a gleaming wood floor. With the pale washes of color seeping through the stained-glass windows in the foyer. With the crystal vases holding arrangements of flowers that were nearly as tall as she was.