“And where is dear old Sheila?” she continued. “I had much to discuss with her this morning!”
Evan cleared his throat. “It seems she planned a vacation and decided it was time to retire.” He coughed. “Today.”
Mrs. Jacobs frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Sheila. And she had confirmed she was coming to the wedding. Hmph.” Mrs. Jacobs plunked herself down on a chair with a massive sigh. “Now I do have to apologize in advance that I won’t be able to stay and have a little chat. Lots to do these days; it’s wedding time!”
Jeez. This was small-town family practice. Chats? There were no chats with the doctor. No wonder Chalmers could never keep to the ten-minute appointment slot Evan had tried pressing Sheila to convert to. No, Chalmers had people booked in twenty-minute slots. Twenty minutes with Eunice Jacobs would make him retire early.
He tried to concentrate on the examination of her foot, but his mind was on his current issues. He needed a receptionist. Today.
Tomorrow he could worry about finding a wife.
…
Grace pulled the key out of her car ignition, and the engine sputtered and coughed until it was completely silent. She said a silent prayer that it would actually start up again and get them home to Toronto. This car was on its last leg, and she knew for certain that she would soon be relying on public transit. Which might be for the best considering the cost of gas these days.
She glanced in her rearview mirror at Christopher, who was still asleep. The three-hour car ride from Toronto to Red River had been filled with nonstop questions, complaints, and one washroom stop. She was partly to blame, because they could have arrived a lot quicker if she’d taken the highway. But she hadn’t been on one since the accident. Instead she’d mapped out a route comprised only of country back roads. It had been picturesque—for the first hour. Then the farms and cows and sprawling countryside had lost their appeal to her four-year-old son.
She leaned to one side and peered through the passenger window at the little white house. It was on a tree-lined side street, downtown Red River. At one time it must have been someone’s home and then converted into an office. There was a white, painted wooden sign perched in an immaculately kept garden bed on the front lawn that read Dr. Chalmers Family Practice.
Grace drew a long, unsteady breath and then glanced at the Spider-Man notepad sitting beside her on the passenger seat. She opened it and flipped through the pages until she reached today’s to-do list. To-Do lists were “her thing.” She made one for every single day, no matter how big or small the day’s events were going to be. Sometimes she added even the tiniest items so she’d feel more accomplished. To-Do lists made her think of her mother—Grace remembered her mother making one every day. A single mom’s necessity, she’d say under her breath.
Grace dug through her crappy bag that was on the brink of self-destruction and felt around for a pen. The only thing she could find was an orange crayon. Good enough.
She studied the remaining items on today’s list:
Drive to Red River
Meet Dr. Manning (don’t act like an idiot)
Give Dr. Manning present (don’t forget Christopher’s gift)
Thank Dr. Manning profusely
Drive home
Job Interview (don’t screw it up)
She crossed out the first item on her list with the crayon. Then she clenched it in her sweaty palm and took a deep breath. This is where she would find Dr. Evan Manning. He was the man who’d saved her and Christopher. It had taken her over a year to track him down, and last week, by some stroke of luck, she’d stumbled across information about him. She’d been at the emergency room in Toronto General, because Chris had sprouted a high fever in the middle of the night and she’d rushed him to the hospital. The doctor who’d treated him for a double ear infection was asking about the scars on his body, and she ended up telling him about the car accident and the mystery man who’d saved them. As luck would have it, the doctor was a colleague of Evan Manning and knew all about Dr. Manning’s heroics that day. The doctor told her Manning was temporarily working in his hometown of Red River.
Grace had seen the conversation as a sign. She needed to thank the man who had saved their lives. She baked a batch of their favorite cranberry muffins and wrapped them up in cellophane with a big red ribbon. And Christopher had spent an entire hour drawing his hero a picture.
“Chris,” she whispered, turning in her seat to look at her son. He stirred slightly, his dark hair rumpled. She smiled at the sight of him, his faded Spider-Man shirt hugging his thin frame. He’d insisted on wearing it, explaining his logic that he should wear a superhero, since Evan Manning was one. “Come on, honey, time to wake up; we’re here.”
She turned to the front and collected her keys, dragging her hands down her face as she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. If Ronald McDonald had an older, crazier-looking, dark-haired sister, she’d be her. Except Grace probably looked even worse, because she didn’t have the access to that kind of heavy makeup.
She attempted to smooth down her curly hair but, when that didn’t work, frantically searched her purse for something to tie it back with. She chewed her lower lip as she held a Spider-Man shoelace in between her fingers. It could work. No one would notice if she wrapped it tightly. Working quickly, she finger-combed her curly hair into a high ponytail. And then frowned at her reflection. Well, whatever. Good enough. It’s not like she was here to pick up Evan Manning and impress him with her looks…or lack of. She was here to thank the man. Profusely. He’d saved the most important person in the world to her. Her concern over her pathetic appearance seemed trivial in comparison to the real issues they faced.
Christopher yawned loudly. “Where’s Dr. Nevan?”
“Dr. Evan. I think he’s inside. Ready to go?”
Her son stretched and then bopped his head up and down quickly. “I’ve never met a real live superhero.”
Grace stifled her groan as she opened her door. The superhero fixation was reaching new heights and showed no signs of slowing down. She helped Christopher out of the car, and they held hands as they walked up the flagstone path to the front porch.
The small waiting room was empty when they entered. Grace frowned as they stood in the doorway. It was odd for a doctor’s office to be so quiet. The practice she’d worked at for years had always been bustling, and phones were always ringing—even when it was closed. Maybe this was what small-town family practice was like. The cellophane crinkled as she balanced the plate of muffins on her hip and walked toward a French door that separated the waiting room from what must be the examination rooms. She winced at the loud creaking of the old door but walked through anyway.
They could hear a man’s deep voice speaking, filling the otherwise-quiet space. She stopped hesitantly outside the first room, Chris bumping into her. Seconds later, the man said good-bye and hung up the phone. Her heart hammered incessantly as she waited for him to turn around. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat and knocked on the door.
The man turned in his chair and slowly stood. He must recognize her.
Her mouth went dry as she stared into his striking blue eyes. Everything was arresting about the man. Perfectly chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and a mouth that was somewhere between sensual and severe. A few strands of gray visible amidst his thick, dark hair. She noticed the outline of the broad shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist and long, lean legs.
Good God, she was checking out their unbelievably gorgeous rescuer.
And she was dressed in pregnancy jeans with a Spider-Man shoelace holding her Ronald McDonald hair up.
Chapter Two
Evan stared at the woman who’d been in his mind, his memories, for a year.
The same woman he’d saved from a car wreck.
When he’d run to the car that was filled with smoke, he’d had no idea what condition the occupants would be in. His heart had stopped, seeing the woman lying motionless, her face bloody as
he climbed into the car. Adrenaline had kicked in. And when he saw the little boy in the backseat, something in his gut had propelled him to work faster, harder. Failure hadn’t been an option. But he’d been seconds too late, and now he was left to deal with the repercussions. His injured hand clenched in his pocket. His girlfriend and fellow surgeon, Alexandra, had left him, disgusted that his career had to be put on hold due to his injuries and they were no longer professional equals.
In the hospital, during his grueling recovery, he’d have nightmares of the woman and her little boy. He’d dream they both died. He’d hear their cries mixed with his. The staff at the hospital he’d been sent to reassured him the woman and child were fine. That was all he needed to know.
He allowed himself a rapid perusal. Emerald eyes, dark hair, full red lips. Her shiny hair was disheveled, in a heap on top of her head. And her clothes were frumpy. Jeans that disguised her shape were swallowed up by an oversize dark jacket. But her face was undeniably beautiful. No amount of cheap, poorly fitted clothing could hide that. When her gaze met his, he felt a jolt deep in his gut. He glanced down at the little boy holding her hand. He had a mop of wavy, dark hair and judging from his height was probably around four years old. Evan’s hand curled around the medical chart, gripping it tightly. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as the child looked up at him. He’d never forget those eyes. They were deep green, identical to his mother’s, and Evan was struck by the memory of him trapped in that car seat. Or maybe it was because he still felt the imprint of the little boy’s fists against his shoulders as he pulled him out of the car, seconds before it had burst into flames, the explosion knocking them to the ground.
The woman cleared her throat. “Are you Dr. Evan Manning?”
He nodded and crossed the room. The kid was looking at him with pupils that had taken on a comically large size as he walked toward them.
“Oh, Dr. Manning, my name is Grace Matheson, and I have been looking for you for over a year. I cannot begin to thank you for what you did—”
The kid lunged forward, looking like he couldn’t fully control his limbs. “You’re a superhero—”
“Shh, Chris.” Grace grasped the back of his shirt, reining him in. “I can’t believe…I don’t know what would have happened to us if you hadn’t saved us.”
They’d be dead. Not that he could say that aloud. Especially not with the little boy in the room.
Her son tugged at her arm. “Give him my picture.”
“Oh right. Here, Christopher drew this,” she said with a hesitant smile. She thrust a drawing at him. Evan looked down at it, frowning. He had no idea what the giant blob of red and yellow was supposed to resemble. He eyed the little boy and then cleared his throat. “This is, uh, really some nice work you’ve got here.”
The kid beamed. In fact, he looked like a piñata, ready to burst. Then the Grace woman shoved a crinkly package at him. “I baked these for you. They are Christopher’s favorite muffins—”
“They’re sooooo good. You’ll love’m! Try one!”
“Chris, maybe Dr. Manning doesn’t want a muffin right now,” she whispered.
Evan shot the boy a smile. He didn’t know what the hell to say to these people. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do all this.” He gestured to the picture in one hand and the muffins in the other. He placed them on the examination table. He felt…odd. Touched. As an ER doctor and surgeon, he didn’t really have to form relationships with patients. And in his personal life, he never dated women with kids. And Alexandra hated anyone remotely resembling a child. Kids had never really been in the cards for him, so he always found himself kind of awkward around them, like they might call him out on the fact that he didn’t know what he was doing. The only two that had ever had a hold on him were his niece and nephew. Luckily for him, they probably assumed his weirdness was due to the gene pool he shared with their fathers.
“Are you going to eat one?”
This kid was persistent. “Not right now, but as soon as I have a second, I’m sure I will.”
The woman was frowning slightly, pulling her full lower lip with her teeth. It was a nice lower lip. Not that he should be noticing. He forced his eyes up.
“I’m sorry that we burst in here without warning. I had just been searching for you for so long, and I couldn’t go on thinking that the man who’d saved us never even had a thank-you. Christopher had the day off school and I…well, I didn’t have anywhere to be this morning, so I thought it was the perfect time to come out here and say it.” Her dark green eyes locked with his, and something stirred in him. It must have been the earnest way in which she spoke. There was no bullshit, no agenda, just simplicity. And his lackluster welcome was obviously now making her embarrassed.
He gave her a slight nod. “I’m just glad it all turned out okay.”
Her smile faltered and what looked like disappointment flickered across her face. He didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but he could tell he wasn’t delivering it.
“Well, we’d better get back to Toronto.” she said, backing up and tugging her son along. “I, uh, have a job interview later this afternoon.” She retreated a few more steps until she bumped into the door, her cheeks gaining color.
Politeness dictated he at least feign interest. And he didn’t want to be an ass. They had gone out of their way to thank him, even though he hated talking about the accident that had killed his career. “What line of work are you in?”
“My mom’s an artist!”
She smiled down at her son. “Well, actually I just do that in my spare time. I’m really a medical receptionist.”
He blinked, everything pausing for a moment before a plan appeared in his mind, complete with a time line and details. Seriously? He glanced down at her left hand. No ring. Single mom.
He looked out the window, zeroing his gaze on what had to be Grace’s car parked outside the clinic. It was a clunker. He turned to her, taking in the shabby clothes. Jobless or close to it. His heart sent blood rushing to his head. This could happen. This Grace woman and her son could be just what he needed.
He cleared his throat. “I’m actually looking for a receptionist.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh. Wow. Well, thank you, but the commute from Toronto every day to here would be too much.”
He nodded, thinking of a way to do this. He wasn’t a manipulator by nature. But life had handed him some pretty crappy luck lately, and he needed to find his way back to the top. There was no way in hell he’d let that position at Medcorp go to someone else while he withered away in a small-town family practice. “Right. Too bad. Would have been quite the coincidence. You helping out the man who saved you…”
Her chin wobbled, ever so slightly, and he shrugged off the guilt he felt for manipulating. “I mean of course, I could never repay you for what you’ve done, and I would love to help you out. I just don’t know how I could drive from Toronto to Red River every morning and night. And Chris is in kindergarten.”
“I don’t know anything about your circumstances, but this job starts immediately. The pay is excellent, and the cost of living in a small town is much less than Toronto.”
She frowned slightly. “Chris, why don’t you do some coloring over there,” she said pointing to the exam table and handing her son a book and crayons from her enormous bag. Christopher nodded and grabbed everything into his arms and then spread it all out on the examination table. Evan stifled his irritation that he’d now have to change the paper on the table before the hemorrhoid patient came in.
He turned to Grace and took a few steps closer to her. That’s when he noticed the depth of color in her eyes. The gorgeous, full lips. Flawless skin. He swallowed hard. He hadn’t had luck like this fall into his lap in…ever. This could work.
At the end of it, she’d get a new job and free living expenses for a few months. He knew exactly where she could live, too. Of course that would mean involving his brothers, but he was pretty sure they’d agree. Knowing th
em, they’d think it was a sign he was settling in Red River for good. He’d deal with his family’s disappointment later. Because other than that, it was the perfect plan. Really, he shouldn’t be feeling guilty at all. What he was about to do was practically saint-like. Then he and Grace could go their separate ways. What could go wrong?
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Um, that’s really sudden—”
“I could put you up in a house, all expenses paid, and of course you’d be very well compensated for your work here.”
“This sounds too good to be true.” She crossed her arms and looked him up and down. She was looking a little less sweet, a little less meek. “Why would you do all this for me? You don’t know me; you don’t even know if I’m really even a medical receptionist—”
He tried to look as calm as possible. The last thing he wanted was to freak her out and send her running. “Do you have a résumé? References?”
She nodded slowly. “In my car. So this is full-time work, with benefits…and a place to live?”
He nodded, waiting for that to sink in.
“How do you know I’m not married or have a boyfriend or other ties to Toronto?”
Crap. “I just assumed because you weren’t wearing a wedding band—”
“You’re right. Okay, well… Are there any other things I should know about this position?”
He glanced over at her son, making sure he was still coloring, and then lowered his voice. Well, he’d better get the rest of his plan out there. “The only other job requirement is that you pretend to be my wife.”
…
Grace stared at the most handsome man she’d ever met. The man who had saved their lives, and she wondered if he was insane. He didn’t give off creepy, stalker-murderer vibes, but still, a woman could never be too careful. She glanced over at Chris and didn’t even bother telling her son not to draw on the actual paper on the table and to keep it to the books. She couldn’t because right now, this Dr. Manning was telling her he needed a wife.
She cleared her throat. Maybe it was a joke. Obviously it was a joke. He was joking and had an odd sense of humor. “That’s funny, I thought you just said you ‘need a wife’?”
The Doctor's Fake Fiancee Page 2
