Winning Back His Doctor Bride

“How does what work?”

“The pictures. Do you want me to look through them before we eat? Or after we’re done? Just how bad are they that we’re even sitting here?”

Ah...so she had realized something was up when he’d asked her out to dinner. “They’re not bad. I just...”

He hadn’t expected to have to explain his reasoning. He tried again. “I just thought we should go through them without an audience. That might be hard at the clinic or even at Bright Hope.”

Especially with a few of the more intimate shots. And Morgan had seemed to be quite adept at catching them at just the wrong moment. A woman scorned who was doing her best to embarrass him? Or was it inevitable that he would see the pictures through a different filter than other people?

Mila’s lips curved. “Did she catch you crawling under that desk or something? I can see how you might want to hide that particular shot.”

He laughed. “I take it the view wasn’t all that flattering from where you were standing.”

“Let’s just say it was interesting.”

Interesting.

He couldn’t be sure with the low lighting in the restaurant, but he thought maybe a bit of color had seeped into her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but follow this trail just a little further. Especially since he could picture several office desk scenarios he wouldn’t have minded exploring once upon a time. “Interesting good? Or interesting bad?”

“I think the photographer thought it was good, that’s for sure.”

Had Mila noticed the other woman’s interest? He thought he’d made it pretty clear that she was there on a professional basis only. He hadn’t been interested.

“And you. What did you think?” Okay, so this was pursuing it a little too far.

“I think maybe we should stick to the subject at hand.”

Not exactly a denial. More like an evasion. Which meant maybe he wasn’t the only one who was struggling to keep their old relationship where it belonged: firmly in the past. But he’d better make more of an effort, or he was going to find himself in a very uncomfortable place.

“Fair enough. Why don’t we sort through them now, then?”

* * *

Mila swallowed as she shuffled through the sheaf of glossy photos that James had brought out of his leather attaché case. Now she saw why he’d wanted to bring her to a place where the tables were private and the lights were low.

Even with the dim lighting in the restaurant these shots made something in her belly come to life. These were not the kind of publicity pictures one wanted for the grand opening of a charity clinic. At least, not some of them.

One of the photos in front of the mural did more than light a fire in her gut. It made her face heat. Because she and James were gazing at each other, and while she couldn’t exactly read his expression, hers was filled with dread—with a side order of longing. A longing that had made one of her hands stretch toward him a bit? Coaxing him to move closer to her like Morgan had asked? Lord, she hoped not.

Maybe she was simply gesturing toward something in the mural. But she didn’t think so.

She flipped through a couple more, and then paused once again. James was watching her as she said something to Avery, a slight smile on his face, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress slacks. He looked so endearingly at ease that it made her chest ache. It was as if she’d been sucked through a time warp and was looking through a window to the past.

Their past.

She could remember glancing toward him and catching him with this exact same expression. As if he loved watching her go about life.

Swallowing, she looked up at him. “Is there anything in here that can be salvaged?”

She had no idea if there was a software program invented that could change these pictures into something they weren’t. And it made her feel a little queasy that the emotions she felt on the inside were so very visible on the outside. At least in these shots.

But then again, hadn’t Morgan caught James off guard in them as well?

“Some of them aren’t as bad. But I wanted us to decide that together.”

“I can see why.”

Their server returned with their appetizers and wine. Mila handed the photos back to James for safekeeping. Or was it simply so she didn’t have to look at them anymore this evening? She had a thought. “Maybe you can come to Bright Hope once we finish up here and we can spread them out on the reception desk.”

“That sounds like a plan. Speaking of Bright Hope, did you get the glass in that window replaced?”

“Yes, someone came the day after your visit. It’s as good as new.”

“No other attempted break-ins?”

She paused in cutting one of her mushrooms. “It was just an accident. The police seem to think so as well.”

Was it her imagination, or had James just relaxed in his seat? Maybe. She knew how relieved she’d been when the officers had said it looked like a rock kicked up by a car or something. There had been construction on that street not so very long ago.

Popping the morsel into her mouth and chewing, she studied the changes in James over the past six years. His hair seemed even more golden than it had before. From spending time in the California sun?

He’d once been an avid sailor, his sleek schooner making the trek back and forth to Catalina Island every chance he’d had. Hours on his boat would explain his deep tan. And she loved the way the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were lighter than the surrounding skin, as if he smiled more while out on the water than he did at other times. He had when they’d been together, anyway.

She swallowed, trying to nip her speculations in the bud. It was none of her business what he did or didn’t do. Not anymore.

“What are you thinking about?”

Time to scramble. She didn’t dare stray too far from the truth, because he’d read it in her face if she told him a complete lie. “Do you still go out on the water?”

One side of his mouth twisted into a half smile. “Every chance I get.”

“On the Mystic Waters?”

His smile slid away this time. “Yes, I still have her. I can’t imagine giving her up for anything.”

Unlike Mila, who he’d been able to give up with a snap of his fingers. It stung to know that his boat had been with him longer than she had. Since they’d actually spent quite a bit of time on the schooner during their romance, the images it brought up were unbearably intimate. For all her discomfort about displays of wealth, the boat was one place she’d felt at home. Maybe because James had gone to great lengths to put her at ease.

It normally took four hours to sail from Los Angeles to the port of Avalon on the island of Catalina, but it had often taken them even longer, because James would stop every time she’d squealed in delight over some new sight, whether it had been porpoises trying to catch a ride on the boat’s wake, or something else. And when he’d taken her below...

Her eyes shut for a second or two before reopening and finding him watching her.

He knew. Knew exactly what she was picturing. Damn him!

“The boats I spent my time on were a little different from your schooner.”

“Rubbing my nose in the fact that you’ve given back more to humanity than I have?”

No. She wasn’t. And she had no idea why she’d spouted off like some self-righteous prig. Maybe because it still hurt to know how easily he could toss her aside.