Greek Doctor, Cinderella Bride

by Amy Andrews

  Isobella couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Suddenly his faith in women had been restored because he’d slept with an employee and found a long-lost link to some valuable data? Or was it simpler than that?

  ‘Why?’ she demanded.

  Because her scars had shown him how vulnerable she really was and he just couldn’t bear it. She worked her butt off trying to prove her competence, prove her detachment, when underneath it all she was flesh and blood. A real woman. As susceptible to destiny and life’s rocky road as everyone else.

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t know. He just knew he didn’t want to go to back to Melbourne and never see her again. ‘I can’t explain…The thought of what you’ve been through…the pain and the fear…I feel like I need to…want to look after…protect…’

  Isobella couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Alex was standing before her, saying words she doubted he’d ever said to a woman. She let herself wallow in a brief fantasy that it was actually something other than a by-product of disbelief and misplaced macho paternalism.

  ‘Why? Because you pity me? What’s wrong? You can’t catch-kiss-and-throw-back poor maimed Isobella?’ she said scornfully. ‘Well, let me tell you, Alexander Zaphirides, I was doing just fine before you came along, and I’ll do just fine when you leave. I don’t need your charity. I liked my life. I knew what I was doing. All you’ve done is mess it up.’

  ‘Right then, let’s get you folks to Temora,’ Mike interrupted, his head and then the rest of his body appearing from the cabin.

  He handed them each a large beach towel, obviously still too preoccupied with Sam’s near-death episode to pay any heed to the knife-edge tension on deck. ‘Theresa thought you might need to dry off.’

  Alex could have strangled Mike for choosing that particular moment to come back, and he watched Isobella withdraw, wrapping the thick towel around her, cloaking herself from his questions, shielding herself from the world again. He hadn’t meant to insult her by implying that she couldn’t fend for herself. But something was happening inside him. Something was twisting in his gut. And it was telling him she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known.

  And his fishing days were over.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ISOBELLA headed for a restroom as soon as she stepped foot in the air-conditioned haven of Cairns Airport. She discarded her ripped shirt and sarong in the bin and climbed into much more suitable shapeless trousers and baggy shirt. The usual buzz of gratification that hummed through her system as she covered up failed to materialise.

  But she was fully covered, and she patted her throat reassuringly as she inspected her reflection in the mirror through her bookish glasses. She admired her armour, and for the first time since Alex had ripped off her shirt felt confident of repelling any arguments he might throw her way.

  All she had to do was sit through the next two hours and then she would never need to see Alex again. The things that had happened today and the other night could not be undone. But they could be forgotten. And the sooner her Greek-god boss was out of sight, the sooner he could be out of mind.

  Alex was already waiting in his seat when she boarded the plane, and the look he gave her as he took in her Isobellaesque appearance was faintly amused. ‘Do you think I’m going to forget what lies beneath all those layers?’

  Isobella shivered at the low growl directed towards her ear as she sat down and buckled up. She could have almost forgiven him had he been referring to her naked body alone. But she knew without even having to ask that it was her scars he was alluding to. How could he ever see the woman beneath now? And when had she started to care?

  It was imperative she re-establish their professional relationship. ‘I don’t think anything. I expect you to realise this is none of your business and act like my boss.’

  Alex heard the crispness in her voice. ‘I think we blurred that line on Piccolo, don’t you?’

  Isobella felt the pull down low in her pelvis as the scrape of his voice momentarily sucked her back into the sensual vortex of that night. ‘I think we can both agree that what happened the other night was a mistake.’

  Alex’s first instinct was to protest, but of course she was right. It shouldn’t have happened. He was her boss, they’d been there on business, and she’d been vulnerable. But they both knew there’d been a force greater than themselves at work that night. Greater even than the cyclone that had raged outside. ‘I wish all my mistakes felt that bad.’

  ‘Alex. You agreed we would act like it never happened. If this is going to be an issue between us then I’ll just have to resign.’

  Isobella held her breath. She couldn’t believe the threat that had slipped from her mouth. She loved her job. She believed in what they were doing and had complete faith that they would ultimately discover a substance that would dramatically improve the scarring endured by Fleckeri victims. And she wanted to be there when they did. Hell, she wanted to be the one who did.

  Alex frowned. She was looking at him with a cool, serious look in those deadly brown eyes. The thought of her working elsewhere, at another lab for someone else, was highly disturbing. She was one of his best researchers, after all. It would be bad business practice to let her walk away. And Dr Alexander Zaphirides hadn’t built up a medical research empire by making bad business decisions.

  He sighed. ‘Of course.’

  Isobella nodded, letting out the breath that was now stretching her lungs to breaking point. She calmly turned back to face the chair in front, pulled out the in-flight magazine and flipped it open to a random page. She could feel Alex’s gaze boring into her temple, and her hand trembled slightly with the effort it took to appear unaffected.

  The plane taxied to the runway and the head stewardess made the usual announcements. The aircraft lifted into the endless blue sky and soon after lunch was served.

  ‘Dr Zaphirides—so nice to see you again, sir. Can I get you a drink?’

  Isobella felt her jaw clench as Red stood beside her, oozing charm and sex appeal all over the aisle. She didn’t look up from her reading material.

  Alex saw Isobella’s knuckles tighten on the pages of the magazine. He smiled at the stewardess. ‘Thank you, that would be marvellous. I might have a Scotch and ice.’ Damn, the woman was driving him to drink.

  ‘And you, ma’am?’

  Isobella didn’t think for a minute that Red gave two hoots whether she wanted a drink or not. ‘No, thank you,’ she said politely, not bothering to look up from what she was reading. She didn’t want to see the look of lust in the other woman’s eyes, the sexual confidence. How good would it feel to be able to look at a man and know you could have him?

  Alex’s drink arrived, and Red lingered to flirt outrageously for a while. Isobella endured it and Alex’s equally flirty banter with as much indifference as she could muster.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ Alex asked Isobella as he finished his meal, passing her his untouched bread roll.

  Isobella took the roll, ignoring the rub of his husky voice all the way down her spine. ‘No.’

  Alex chuckled, watching her break the bread open with her fingers and slather it with butter. ‘It’s not about Piccolo. I promise.’

  Isobella bit into the roll. ‘All right, then,’ she acquiesced grudgingly. He had shared his leftovers, after all.

  He watched her bite into the roll. A smear of butter glistened on her bottom lip, and sinful thoughts of removing it with his own slithered through his mind before she flicked her tongue out to clear it off. It took him a moment or two to remember what he’d been about to say.

  ‘Why do you hide your body?’

  Isobella swallowed, almost choking on the last of the bread roll. She stared at him, the urge to deny it strong. But he already knew too much about her. Lying seemed pointless. ‘Why do you think?’ she asked caustically.

  He shrugged, dismayed at the bitterness in her voice. ‘I honestly don’t know. You don’t need to wear baggy clothes to cover
your scars. Any shirt’s going to do that.’

  Isobella blinked. He didn’t get it. He truly didn’t get it. She was dismayed to feel tears gathering in her eyes. How could she explain to him how deeply the mental scars had wounded her? ‘They’re hideous, Alex.’

  Her voice was tremulous, and she was looking at him as if he’d grown another head. As if he’d never understand in a million years. But he did understand. Some. He knew what it was like to be travelling along a path only to have the signposts change on you. ‘No, Isobella. They’re not.’

  She looked at him askance. ‘How can you say that? You saw them. They’re…they’re ugly…repulsive, revolting.’

  ‘No. They’re not,’ he repeated calmly.

  Isobella was blown away by the steady honesty in his open blue gaze. She looked away. She was too desperate to believe what he was saying. Too vulnerable after their recent confrontation to be strong. She would not let his pretty words persuade her into ignoring the evidence of her own eyes and that of the two men who were supposed to have loved her.

  ‘Well, maybe you can look at them differently. With the calm, clinical eye of a physician. No doubt you find them fascinating. But, trust me, other men don’t.’

  Alex heard the stiffness in her voice masking what was obviously deep-seated hurt. He shrugged. ‘Some men are too stupid to live.’

  Isobella was so surprised by his honesty and his matter-of-fact delivery that she laughed, despite the whirl of anxiety cramping her insides.

  Alex watched as the laughter petered out from her face and doubt drew her brows together. ‘What was his name?’

  She hesitated. ‘Paolo.’

  Alex nodded, and waited for her to elaborate.

  ‘He was…is…he still is a photographer. He freelances for all the top fashion magazines.’ She remembered seeing his name only a few months ago in a Vogue spread she’d been admiring. ‘He was shooting that day sixteen years ago…I collapsed at his feet.’ She felt the pain all over again. From the searing bite of the tentacles and from Paolo’s rejection.

  Alex could see the distance in her gaze and could tell she was back at that day. He waited for her to say more, but it didn’t look as if she was coming back any time soon. ‘He…left you? After?’ he prodded gently.

  She nodded, coming out of her reverie. ‘He couldn’t even bear to look at me.’

  Alex reached for her hand and covered it with his own. He felt her flinch, but held on anyway. He remembered her telling him it had been a long time since she’d had sex. Had it been sixteen years? ‘There’s been no one else?’

  ‘There was another man. A couple of years later. I thought he might be special. He was nuts about me…apparently. But he…he ran pretty quickly when he saw the real me.’

  Alex squeezed her hand. Some men really were too stupid to live. ‘You lost a lot that day on the beach. Your lover. Your career.’

  Yes, she had. But it wasn’t just that—she’d lost her sense of self that day. Her perception of who she was. But how did she explain that? She couldn’t.

  ‘No. Not my career. It was my last shoot. I was retiring from modelling.’

  Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

  ‘I was sick of the industry. I’d been modeling since the age of six.’

  Alex’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. ‘Six?’

  Isobella nodded. ‘Catalogue stuff to begin with—you know, department store adverts, children’s clothing, that kind of thing. I did my first catwalk job on my twelfth birthday. I was fourteen my first season in Paris.’

  ‘That’s a long time. A lot to turn your back on. From what I understand of your case you were on your way to supermodel status.’

  Isobella nodded, looking at their entwined hands resting in her lap. ‘I know it sounds really glamorous…and it was. But there was so much pressure to stay thin. And not just within a normal healthy weight range, but stick-insect-thin. I was tired of being obsessed with it. I just wanted to…eat a doughnut without worrying about the calories. Although I was lucky. I have a great metabolism—’

  Alex laughed. ‘I noticed.’

  Isobella blushed. So? She liked to eat.

  ‘Too many girls I modelled with suffered from eating disorders. Some of them used drugs to stay thin. I didn’t want to head down that path. Modelling can mess with your head. It’s hard to explain. It’s such a superficial world—a goldfish bowl. You feel like a slab of meat in a market. Every flaw, every blemish, every extra pound, every stray zit is a black mark against you. A risk of losing a job to another girl.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘No wonder you’re so screwed-up about your body.’

  She opened her mouth to protest. But what could she say? She was screwed up about it. She moved her hand out from under his. ‘You have to understand, Alex. I strutted the catwalks of Paris and Milan. I graced the cover of practically every fashion magazine in the world. I went from beautiful swan to ugly duckling in one searingly painful minute. That’s not the way it’s supposed to go, Alex. It’s not supposed to work in reverse.’

  Alex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘You’re alive, Isobella. Do you know how close you came to dying? I’ve read your notes. You had three cardiac arrests in those first two days. If they hadn’t had an ambulance on site at the beach that day you would have died on the sand.’

  The thought was utterly repugnant to him. Even thinking about her lying on the beach as her life force ebbed, relying on strangers to pound on her chest and pull her back from the brink, made him ill.

  ‘And I live with the ugly reminder every day.’

  Didn’t she understand how lucky she was? ‘Why does the scarring matter? You just told me you were leaving modeling anyway.’

  Isobella looked at him incredulously. ‘It matters,’ she choked out. ‘It changed everything. Everything I thought I was—thought I knew about me…It changed my entire perception of myself. Yes, I’d chosen to do something else with my life, but Izzy the model—that’s still who I was, deep down. Then suddenly I’m scarred. Blemished. Flawed.’

  ‘So this whole shapeless clothes thing—it’s not just about covering your scars, is it? It’s about hiding from the world because you’re not Izzy any more. Pretending that whole other you didn’t even exist. You’re letting it define you.’

  She shied away from the brutal honesty of his words. She wanted to get up and walk away, open the door and never look back, but sucking two hundred passengers to their doom wasn’t going to make the truth any easier to bear.

  ‘How can it not?’ she demanded. ‘People’s life experiences do define them. Your cancer did. It made you change direction. Switch specialties.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not hiding what happened to me. Pretending it didn’t. Pretending I’m someone else. I’m not letting it affect who I am.’

  Isobella looked at his neck scars, open for everyone to see, and was overwhelmed by the urge to trace them with her finger. No, he wasn’t pretending. At least not about what had happened to him. But…

  ‘You close yourself off to women, to any sort of meaningful relationship, because Sonya walked away from you.’

  Alex felt the needle from her accurate dig prick at his conscience. ‘That’s not the same thing.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  No, damn it, it wasn’t. And they weren’t talking about him. ‘You’ve let this thing shape every aspect of your life. You’ve let it make you a total recluse. You didn’t just change direction, you stuck yourself into reverse, backed yourself into the garage and threw away the key. You’ve let it completely take over your life.’

  His words cut her with their razor-sharp insight. What the hell would he know? ‘You don’t know me,’ she murmured.

  ‘Maybe I know you better than you think.’

  She shook her head mutinously. ‘If you did you’d know that any changes I made, I made because I wanted to. I was sick of being Izzy. Sick of the superficial lifestyle. The attack just ensured I completely ditched all
the Izzy trappings. There are way more important things in life than what shoes and bag go best with a Chanel jacket, you know? I’m happy with my life. I’m happy with the lab and my job and, yes, with my awful glasses and baggy clothes. I don’t need anything else in my life.’

  Alex dropped his head close to her ear. ‘You’re a liar,’ he murmured.

  Isobella sucked in a breath at the erotic slither of his husky accusation. ‘No. I am happy,’ she insisted.

  ‘I saw your underwear strewn all over the bed at Piccolo. Your very…sexy underwear.’

  His tone dropped another notch, and she shivered as she thought about him looking at her personal things. Touching her silk and lace as he had her bra and knickers the night of the cyclone. She should have been affronted, but his scratchy voice and the heat of her memories were weaving their way through her pelvic floor muscles, tightening each one as it fluttered by.

  ‘You may think you want to forget about being a woman, a sexy woman with a woman’s needs, but your lingerie says different. Your lingerie says I am woman. Hear. Me. Purr.’

  Isobella swallowed. Her underwear was the only concession to femininity, to her past life, she had allowed herself. He wasn’t supposed to see it. No one was supposed to know. It was her guilty little secret.

  ‘You want to know how else I know how desperately you want to be that woman you’re suppressing? When I was inside you, deep inside you, there was no façade, Isobella. You let go of all that stuff. All those inhibitions. You were all woman.’

  Isobella blushed, remembering her complete abandon. ‘It was dark,’ she muttered. And she had wanted him. It had been a heady combination.

  Alex frowned down at her. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  Isobella snorted. ‘You think you would have been so eager the other night if you could have seen me? Seen my sc—my body? What I really looked like?’

  Ah. He looked at her. She was tearing her napkin to pieces in her lap and she looked deadly serious. ‘If you think for a minute your scarring turns me off then you’re crazy.’