The Doctor's Fake Fiancee

by Victoria James

  Maybe she was fooling herself, and maybe she’d broken every promise she’d made to herself, but she was hoping, wishing, that Evan would be different. There were parts of himself that he still kept from her, but she convinced herself that in time he’d open up. He had to.

  “What is it, Grace?”

  She frowned, her eyes darting to the interior of the opulent ballroom. She could hear people laughing and talking, crystal clinking, and live music playing. “I’m scared I’m not going to fit in, and I’ll ruin all of this for you—”

  “Grace?”

  She nodded.

  Evan leaned down, cupped her face and kissed her until she opened her mouth and let her arms climb the length of his chest. He broke the kiss and stared down at her with eyes that held the promise that tonight wasn’t going to end in the ballroom. “You could never embarrass me,” he said, his voice gruff. “You’re stunning, you’re smart, and you’re the only woman who has ever made me want to be better. There’s no one else I’d want by my side tonight. You don’t have to do anything but be yourself. Tonight is a formality and nothing more.”

  She opened her purse, wanting to fix her lipstick after that kiss, but Evan grabbed her Spider-Man notepad. She snatched it out of his hands. He had an adorable smirk on his face. She raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “I need you to add something to this list,” he said in a low voice.

  “I really don’t need more things to add,” she mumbled.

  “Trust me, you do. You need to add me to your list.”

  She squinted at him as he leaned against the wall, all smiles and sexiness. “Pardon?”

  He pointed to the sheet with “TO DO” written on top. “Add my name under that. Do, Evan Manning.”

  She choked out a laugh, and he grabbed her, his head at her neck, his warm laughter melting her. “Play your cards right, Evan and I’ll be scratching that item off my list by one a.m.”

  A few heated minutes later, he held out his hand, and she grasped it, a tremor rippling through her as she realized the significance of the gesture.

  She tore her eyes away from his blue ones and looked into the ballroom. It was a sea of silk and marble and silver and crystal. It was nothing she had ever been exposed to or even thought of. She glanced up at Evan, taking in his confidence, reveling in the power. She could do this for him.

  …

  Three hours later, dinner was over, and Grace was feeling like there was so much more to this evening than Evan had let her in on. The meal had been pleasant, the couples they’d been seated with polite but reserved. No one really spoke to her, so she’d eaten quietly. Evan had been attentive but very focused on what she assumed was him catching up with old colleagues.

  She took another sip from her wine glass and scanned the crowd for Evan. He wasn’t too difficult to spot, even in a group this large. Her stomach did that odd little flip that she had grown accustomed to since meeting him. His broad shoulders shook as he laughed at something an older man said. His profile was visible, his tanned skin contrasting beautifully to the vibrant white of his shirt. As he’d done many times these past few weeks, the man amazed her. He fit in here beautifully, as though he was born for this. And yet at home, in Red River with his brothers and family, in jeans and T-shirts, he looked equally comfortable.

  “Evan Manning is a man who stands out in a crowd of hundreds, isn’t he?”

  She spun around in her heels to meet the owner of the smooth, cultured voice. A lovely, tall, dark-haired woman stood beside her. Her perfect features were impassive, her full lips the only indication that she wasn’t exactly pleased. “I’m Alexandra. Evan’s long-time girlfriend.”

  Grace stood a little taller, clutching her wineglass a little tighter. “Ex-girlfriend, you mean.”

  Alexandra’s lips tightened. “We broke up because of a misunderstanding.”

  Grace tried her hardest not to be drawn into the cattiness. She truly hated this. Yet every jealous bone in her body ached for her to set this woman straight and hold her ground. And hold onto her man. The man who now looked nothing like the man she’d grown used to seeing the last few weeks. But the one who must seem very familiar to Alexandra.

  “Your loss, my gain I guess.”

  “Evan must be dying to get out of Red River.”

  Grace’s spine stiffened. “What makes you say that?”

  Alexandra scoffed. “Please. That town? It’s wasted on a man like Evan. What’s he supposed to do there? Run a two-bit family practice?”

  “He has family there—” And me and my little boy.

  “Trust me. That’s not enough for him. I know Evan in a professional sense, and I understand him. I know what makes him tick; I know what gets him off. He’s a man who needs to be the best, at the top of his game. He thrives on competition. And there is no competition in Red River,” she whispered, leaning down into her personal space. Grace was about to tell her she too knew what got Evan off, when she felt his hand at the small of her back.

  “Hi, ladies.” At the sound of Evan’s deep voice, Grace turned to face him, trying not to look as though she’d just been railroaded by Doctor Evil.

  She shifted from one uncomfortable, stiletto-clad foot to the other as Evan’s ex-girlfriend simpered on and on about how good he looked. Alexandra had thrown herself on Evan like a dirty towel.

  Grace took a long sip of champagne and eyed the woman over the rim of the crystal glass. She was as tall as Evan, with a perfect porcelain complexion, dark hair, and even darker eyes. She was lithe, with sculpted shoulders and arms and wearing a short sequined dress that showed a hell of a lot of leg. And in Grace’s uneducated opinion, the woman had had one too many Botox injections.

  She frowned when Alexandra touched his arm and laughed at something he said. She had no idea what the woman could be laughing at since Evan hadn’t even said anything funny. She glanced around the room and tried to ignore the jealousy that wound its way through her body.

  Alexandra turned to Grace all of a sudden. “And what’s your specialty, Grace?”

  Grace frowned at her. What was she talking about?

  “Grace isn’t a doctor,” Evan interjected. Grace tried not to smile as Evan’s hand intertwined with hers.

  Alexandra’s red lips formed a perfect O as she continued to stare at her.

  “Though my son does call me, Dr. Mom,” Grace said before she could stop herself. At the pure disgust that Alexandra showed her, a flush made its way up her neck and over her cheeks. The woman was a complete snot. She raised her glass to her lips again and this time took a longer swallow of champagne. If Holly and Claire had been here, they would have had her back.

  “What is that on your hand?”

  Grace sucked in her squeal of mortification. She had forgotten about the damn bandage. Of course, this morning in her rush to get everything done, she’d cut herself while slicing an apple for Chris. She hadn’t bothered to remove it, thinking no one would notice it on her left hand. How wrong she was. Grace glanced down at her hand. “It’s called a Band-Aid.”

  The woman continued to stare at it as though she just didn’t understand. Some doctor. Grace glanced at the image on the Band-Aid. Screw her. “It’s Diego. He’s an animal rescuer.”

  Evan let out a choking sound, and she looked up at him. She would die if he looked at her with embarrassment. Instead her breath caught in her throat as those magnificent blue eyes of his were sparkling, and his lips were turned up slightly.

  He turned to Alexandra. “Yes, Diego is cousins with Dora.”

  Alexandra frowned at them. “Who?”

  This time he broke out into a wide grin. “Dora, the renowned explorer.”

  Alexandra’s pink lips turned into a deep frown before she spoke. “I can see your time in Red River has taken its toll on you, Evan. Well, I’m sure you’re counting down the days until you can leave that place. And I’ll confess, I am so happy we’ll be working together again. You and I, working at Medcorp, will be like old ti
mes, except with a hell of a lot more money.”

  …

  Grace hadn’t said a word to him in the elevator. The evening had been a complete failure after Alex’s manipulations. Well, it had been fine in terms of appearances to everyone at Medcorp, but it had been a disaster for the one person who really mattered.

  He slid the key card in the holder and then pushed the door open, waiting for Grace to walk into the suite. She walked past him in a flurry of silk and perfume and then spun around to face him. He forced himself to only let his gaze travel over her for a moment, taking in how lovely she was, even angry. He’d been proud to have her by his side tonight, and she’d mingled beautifully with everyone. Except Alex. “I thought I could keep going, I thought I could handle it. But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this, Evan.”

  He swallowed hard. “Doing what?”

  Before he could answer, she marched across the room to the washroom. “Whatever it is we’re doing. This pretend fiancée thing. This real relationship. Everything. What are we? What’s real and what’s fake? Is the man I see in Red River everyday—the one who cares for patients all day, loves his family, treats my son like he’s so special, and warms my bed every night—the real, Evan? Or is the man I saw tonight, the one who’s about to enter a profession that’s all about money, with his ex—whom I must add is a total snot—is that the real you?”

  He ran his hand over his jaw and mouth, hating that she was asking him things he didn’t know himself. A month ago, he would have known the answer. He wouldn’t have been able to imagine being even remotely interested in carrying on with Chalmers’s practice. He wouldn’t have been able to imagine himself so attached to her son. A month ago, he hadn’t known Grace. He hadn’t known he could feel this way about anyone. And if he were brutally honest, he wouldn’t have known this other side to himself. The side that was soft. The side that gave a damn about so many other things besides his career. He wouldn’t have put a relationship above his career. Or a woman.

  “You know what else? I think Mrs. Jacobs’s wedding was a hell of a lot more fun than tonight. I don’t even know why you don’t like that poor woman. Calling her crazy. You know who’s crazy? Dr. Botox—”

  “Who?”

  “Alex, that’s who—”

  Evan choked out a laugh, and an indescribable feeling stole through him as he watched her toss her makeup into her case.

  “I also don’t like being dressed up like a Barbie doll and having rich old men stare at my cleavage,” she continued.

  He didn’t think it would be a good time to mention that it was impressive cleavage. “Would it help if I told you that poor old men stare at your cleavage, too?”

  She spun on her heel and pointed a can of hair spray in his direction. He backed up a step in case her finger depressed the nozzle. It probably wasn’t the best time to tell her about the geriatric pervs back at the clinic.

  “And I will not be made to feel inferior because I’m not a doctor or didn’t go to school for five thousand years. I’m an artist, and for the record, Dr. Mom is a valid profession. I take my role as a mother very seriously. And you know what else, Evan? I liked you a lot better when you were tossing rocks into the water with Ella and Chris. Sure you look,” she paused, looked him up and down and then cleared her throat, “somewhat attractive in a tuxedo—”

  He took a step closer to her. “I believe you used the word beautiful before—”

  “That was before the gala—”

  “Grace, come here,” he whispered gruffly.

  “No.” She slammed the hairspray bottle on the counter and put her hands on her hips. “You come here.”

  “Gladly,” he said and swallowed up the distance between them in one step.

  “What are you doing?”

  He braced his arms on the marble counter, on either side of her. “You told me to come here. Here I am.”

  “I was just being argumentative.”

  “I know, but I took it as the perfect opportunity.”

  “For what?”

  “For this.” He leaned over to kiss her. He wanted her. He wanted to hold her in his arms again, wanted to feel her sigh against him, lean on him. He wanted her mouth under his, her bare skin against his. He wanted to not explain the Medcorp thing. He just wanted to spend the night in this suite making love to her.

  “I need answers, everything, Evan. I need to know where this is going.” She pulled away from him and walked into the main room. He took a deep breath and followed her out. They needed a glass of something. The champagne tonight didn’t seem adequate for the conversation they were about to have. He needed to keep this light and avoid a discussion he didn’t have an answer to. He knew this was inevitable. The last few weeks had been more intense than he would have ever imagined. He had never gotten closer to anyone. And he knew by the way she looked at him, by everything she gave him, she felt it, too. And he knew that she would need more. But that’s what he hadn’t figured out yet.

  He walked over to the bar and dropped a few cubes of ice into each crystal tumbler. “Can I get you a drink?”

  She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “I needed to be here tonight,” he said. “I missed it last year because of the accident. I just didn’t want to show up here with nothing—”

  “I meant us. Where are we going?”

  This was the question he had no answer to. He squeezed the cool crystal of the glass in one hand and rubbed the nape of his neck with the other. He forced himself to look at Grace, who was standing there, completely open to him. Her green eyes were filled with a distrust that went years beyond him. Where are we going?

  “We don’t have to make decisions tonight.”

  She turned away, chewing her lip. “We do. I can’t keep going, wondering and worrying when it’s all going to end—”

  “One day at a time—”

  She looked down at her shoes. “I can’t do it anymore. If I were on my own, maybe. But one day at a time doesn’t really work when you have a kid.”

  His stomach dropped, pushed down by guilt. “Grace—”

  “I want details. What are your plans? Your job. Me. Chris.”

  “I’ll be moving back to Toronto as soon as Dr. Chalmers comes back to work.”

  She broke his stare, but he could see the way she tightened her hold on her stomach. “But what about family practice? There were rumors that Dr. Chalmers was going to retire; there will be a new hospital in Red River in the next few years.”

  He shrugged. “This is a better move for me career-wise—”

  “But what about your family? Staying close to them?”

  “I can visit. It’s not that far,” he said, downing some whiskey. It did nothing to ease the ache in his chest. He was being an ass. She deserved more than the answers he was offering. He had thought—struggled—with the idea of taking over for Chalmers. Doing the whole family man thing with Grace and Chris but then gut-wrenching fear would take over. He would fail her. He had made his decision at a young age what kind of life he wanted, and it wasn’t the one she needed.

  “I thought…” Her voice trailed, and she walked over to stand in front of the balcony doors. “I thought you might stay in Red River and take over Dr. Chalmers’s practice. We worked so well together.”

  He sighed roughly and walked over to her, standing behind her. “I tried it. It’s not for me. I’m sorry if I made you believe otherwise.”

  “I just thought… You didn’t give it a real chance. You tried it, knowing you had this other opportunity. You didn’t evaluate it for what it is. A chance to help the people in your hometown, to follow in your mentor’s footsteps. Your patients love you. I know the time you put in there. I know you weren’t just going through the motions. You care about those people, whether you realize it or not. You didn’t have to stay there every night, reviewing tests the day they arrive, setting up referrals with the best specialists. You even pulled strings, calling in favors and changing some
of the doctors they were with when you didn’t feel things were right. You didn’t have to do that. You wouldn’t have done any of that if you didn’t truly care. I thought being a doctor was your dream. You wouldn’t be a doctor if you join Medcorp. You’d be a CEO. How is that anything remotely close to your heart?”

  “I take my position at the clinic very seriously. It’s what any good doctor would do. I was a kid with silly dreams of being like Dr. Chalmers—”

  “So then tell me this is your dream. Tell me that running a clinic accessible only to certain people in a certain income bracket is your dream. That even though you could use your talent as a doctor to help people, you’d rather run this chain of private plastic-surgery clinics. Tell me how you’ll help people then? We live in a country that has free healthcare, you have the opportunity to help people in any income bracket, and yet you’re choosing the complete opposite. Worse, because you’ll just be there shuffling papers! Medcorp isn’t even accessible to burn victims or people needing legitimate plastic surgery because of illness. I don’t get it. How do you go from freaking out because your temp patients are eating too much sugar, to walking away and being a CEO? It’s like you think Red River isn’t good enough for you.”

  Jeezus. He took another drink, and she spun around to look at him.

  “Tell me, Evan.”

  He blinked, the unfamiliar feeling of failure filling him. This is who he was, and he’d never pretended to be otherwise. “At some point, you have to grow up and stop being an idealist. It’s great to be a bleeding-heart liberal until you’re out there in the real world, and there are bills that need to be paid.”

  “I don’t care how much you make—”

  “I do. I care. I didn’t work this hard, sacrifice having a life in order to get ahead, only to wind up in Red River. I need to be the best.”