by Rowe, Julie
Hot.
His phone rang and Alex had to jar himself out of a fantasy where he got to find out how delicious the good doctor’s luscious mouth tasted.
It was his investigator. “Want me to do any follow up on Dr. Roberts?”
“Look into the kid the doctor gave the medication to and his mother. Are they as bad off financially as they seem? They have to be pretty hard up if their doctor is giving them free samples.”
“Okay. Will do.”
“And do a little snooping into Dr. Roberts’s finances. I want to be sure the clinic’s newest star doctor doesn’t have any skeletons in her closet.”
“I’ll get on it right away.”
Alex ended the call only to have his phone ring in his hand.
His mother. Calling him at work?
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
She sighed. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Assume I’m calling with bad news.”
“The only time you bother me at work is when you have bad news. So what is it?”
She grumbled something unintelligible, and then asked, “Are you going to Grandma Maddy’s Sunday for dinner?”
“Of course.”
“Catherine is back in town,” his mother told him in an ominous tone. “And your Aunt Gerri has decided to come to dinner. She wants to support you in your time of need.”
Alex frowned. “Why do all my female relatives think I’m pining over my ex-fiancé?”
“Maybe because you wore black for six months after she left you?” his mother asked.
“I did that to piss Aunt Gerri off, not because I was in mourning.”
“Yeah, well, she seems to think you’re still grieving.”
“That old bat is going to drive me to drink.”
“I completely agree. That doesn’t change the fact that Gerri and your grandmother are going to smother you with love.”
Alex grunted. Why couldn’t his family leave him alone? “Tell them I’m bringing a friend.”
“Oh? A female friend?”
Yes. The perfect thing to keep his aunt from meddling. Who could he bring? Hmm, it had to be someone his family didn’t know. Someone they couldn’t intimidate. “Yes, a doctor. A doctor who is single and new to town. That should shut Aunt Gerri up.”
“Which doctor would that be?” his mother asked carefully.
Alex smiled. “Calla.” Brilliant. He could observe her without the doctor becoming suspicious.
“Who’s she?”
“She’s a new plastic surgeon working for Helen.” For her to agree, he’d have to make it worth her time. The likely possibility of seeing him embarrassed would probably work. She hadn’t hid her irritation and dislike.
“You’re dating?”
“This will be our first official date. We had a lively discussion yesterday that left me admiring her honesty. I think she’ll liven up an otherwise normal Sunday dinner.”
“You admire her honesty?” his mother asked in an incredulous tone. “Oh no. She’s like you, isn’t she? Tells the truth, the whole and ugly truth?”
“Maybe not as bluntly as I do, but yes, her lack of bullshit is very refreshing.”
“She’s going to think our dinners are professional wrestling matches with food.”
“Should be fun for her, too, then.”
“Okay,” his mother said with another sigh. “It’s your funeral.”
“Thank you. I intend to enjoy it.”
Alex ended the call, a smile on his face. What she didn’t know was that he’d had another motive for asking Dr. Roberts to a family dinner.
She was hot.
Not conventionally so. Her mouth was a little too big, but her lips were a decadent temptation into sin. Her eyes were a little too wide, but they were the lightest shade of blue he’d ever seen, and she’d used them to pin him in place like a spear.
No lab coat could hide her impressive curves or scalpel-sharp smile. Even the way she teased him about his tendency to speak in soliloquy was sexy. She didn’t back away or attempt to be politically correct. She said it like it was.
Very hot.
She’d surprised him about the kid and the drugs, and after practicing law in LA and dealing with actors and other assorted insane people for more than ten years, nothing much surprised him anymore.
Hard to find a plastic surgeon who gave a damn. She obviously did.
He pulled up the file on Calla Roberts again and opened it.
Spotless work record.
Large student loans.
One dependant, a brother who lived in a long-term care medical facility.
No evidence of a boyfriend for the last year.
She’d won two community service awards and had glowing recommendations from three separate department heads at the Chicago hospital she’d left. Every one of them said they hoped she’d return.
Calla Roberts was about as far away from the clawing, lying, ambitious Catherine as a woman could get. A good thing. He’d genuinely loved Catherine, and when he’d discovered the depth of her lies it had damn near gutted him. He needed a woman who thought of others first. A woman who understood the value of the truth and didn’t shy from it. Calla Roberts was starting to look like that kind of woman.
So, what was she doing in LA?
Why had she left Chicago?
He really did owe her an apology. He’d done something he hated. He’d judged her based on what he knew about people in Los Angeles, but she wasn’t from Tinseltown. She was from Illinois, which might as well be another planet.
No, a simple I’m sorry wasn’t going to cut it. She deserved flowers and a written apology. He’d have to give some thought to how to word it. This was not something that could be rushed.
He hoped she didn’t throw the flowers, vase and all at him.
Maybe he’d have time to convince her to go with him to his family dinner first.
Chapter Two
“What the hell am I doing?” Calla muttered to herself as she added notes to her patient charts shortly after lunch the next day. Back in Chicago, Thursdays were for visiting her pediatric patients. Their courage, resilience, and ability to have fun never failed to inspire her, and it had become her favorite day of the week.
Now, all she saw at Seacliffe was routine. A facelift on this one with some added work around the eyes. A rhinoplasty on the next one with a little collagen added to the lips. A neck lift and Botox injections. The surgical reconstruction she used to do meant she was repairing faces, arms, and legs of people who really needed her skills.
She missed that feeling of accomplishment.
Then she saw the corner of one of her loan payment notices sitting in a pile at the edge of her desk and she remembered why she had to be here.
Because she had debts to pay. Big ones, and only some of them had anything to do with money. Her brother, Richard, needed her in Chicago, but after what happened when her ex-fiancé, Luke, had cleaned out their bank account and run off with his secretary two days before their wedding, she didn’t have a choice. She had to work where the money was.
A knock sounded at her door and she gratefully called out for the person on the other side to enter.
Alex Hardy walked in.
She was careful to close the open file on her computer before asking, “Again? What did I do this time?”
She hoped her deliberately grumpy question would encourage him to leave, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His lips curved upward in a sinfully sensual smile.
“I’m here with an offer you can’t refuse.”
His mouth did strange things to her insides. It made her want to go around the table and kiss him silly. She wiped her hands on her pants and managed to say calmly, “Not interested.”
Alex laughed, sat down in the chair in front of her desk, and leaned forward to regard her with the most penetrating stare she’d ever received.
“This is a chance to prove your innocence and hav
e me in your debt at the same time,” he said finally, sitting back. “I’d like you to be my guest at a dinner party.”
A dinner party? She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you nuts?”
“No. I need a date who doesn’t scare easily.”
That had her eyebrows rising. “Excuse me?”
“Every Sunday my grandmother hosts a family dinner. Usually about thirty of my closest relatives show up. This weekend, however, my ex is in town, and as a result my aunt plans to support”—he put air quotes around the word—“me in my supposed time of romantic pain and anguish.”
“You think bringing a date will make her leave you alone?”
“Exactly.”
Wonderful. He thought she was mercy date material. “You were accusing me of dealing drugs only yesterday.” And she didn’t like him. Not at all.
Except for his smile. She liked how his whole face got involved. It was so infectious. And his cologne…she could immerse herself in that for days. Then there was his quick wit and piercing intelligence.
Smart was so sexy.
But she didn’t like him. He was abrupt to the point of rudeness and didn’t appear to think before he spoke. Nope. She didn’t like him at all.
“I guarantee you’ll be well entertained,” he said.
She had to mentally pull herself together. “Oh?”
“My grandmother is Maddy Clark.”
No way. “The fifties film star?”
“The same.”
Maddy Clark was one of the most eccentric women in Hollywood. She’d had a long list of husbands and ex-husbands and four or five children. Years ago, after her second or third marriage, people began saying she’d been cursed.
Calla’s parents had been huge fans. Growing up, they watched one of her movies every year at Christmas. It became a family tradition. One she’d continued after her parents had died. Her brother Richard loved Maddy Clark.
She was Alex’s grandmother?
Alex Hardy, barracuda lawyer, dealing with an interfering aunt, ex-girlfriend, and a grande dame of Hollywood reputed to be cursed to never find her true love. This she had to see, if only to get the lady’s autograph for Richard.
“You’re right, it does sound entertaining.” When would she ever get another chance like this? “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
Alex got to his feet. “Excellent. I’ll pick you up at five o’clock on Sunday.”
Holy shit, what had she just done? “Should I bring anything?”
“Dessert?”
Okay, that was easy, right? She made herself nod. “I can do that.”
He stared at her expectantly for a few seconds. “I’ll need your address.”
Doh. “Oh, right.” She wrote it down on a sticky note and handed it to him.
He took it and she moved to pull her hand back, but he grabbed it, and shook it like they’d sealed a business deal. Except he didn’t let go of her right away. His thumb stroked over her pulse point.
Heat wove its way up her neck and face, and she jerked her hand out of his grasp.
He looked at her from beneath his lashes, the heat in his gaze enough to light a glacier on fire, and said, “I look forward to Sunday.” A moment later, he was gone, the door closed behind him.
It took her several seconds to regain control of her breathing and pulse.
Alex Hardy didn’t need any help from his relatives in the dating department. Not one bit. And his other reasons for wanting her around were just as sketchy. But then again, so was her reason for agreeing. Sunday evening was going to be interesting, and quite possibly a disaster.
She had to be out of her mind.
Calla grabbed her cell phone and texted her brother: Are you up for a video call?
He replied about thirty seconds later: Absolutely.
A minute after that she was looking at her brother’s face on her computer screen, all blue eyes and too thin face. He’d lost weight again, yet despite that, Richard had muscle definition in his face most people didn’t have. He was wearing a headset and in front of him was a tray with his multi-purpose mouth tool resting on it. As a quadriplegic, his mouth was one of the few parts of his body he could still control.
“What’s up?” He grinned at seeing her.
The sight of his familiar smile—her partner in crime growing up, her best friend—broke the dam that had been keeping her emotions from overflowing. “Everything.” It came out as a groan, one she couldn’t stop.
He blinked in surprise. “You got fired?”
She snorted. That would be too easy. “No.”
“Your car broke down?”
God, that was a disaster she didn’t need. “No.”
“You tripped and broke your hand so now you can’t operate?” His voice rose along with his insatiable curiosity.
She frowned and restrained herself from knocking on wood. “No.”
“You were kidnaped by aliens?”
Did he have to sound so hopeful? “No.”
“Huh,” Richard said, his twitching lips telling her he fought a grin. “Your everything doesn’t seem to include very many things.”
She rolled her eyes. “Smart-ass.”
He studied her face for a moment. “Guy trouble?”
“Yes. No. Damn it.” She had no idea how to explain her relationship with Alex. Friendly enemies? Temporary allies?
“So, guy trouble.”
“Yes.”
“Sweet.”
She grit her teeth. “There’s nothing sweet about it. He’s insulting, arrogant, and altogether too, too…”
“Right?” Richard suggested.
Calla came as close to growling as a human could.
Richard turned his head to the side. “Stop with the glaring. You’re blinding me with it.”
“He makes me so mad, and you’re making it worse.”
“So, you’ve met a guy who’s smart and makes you a little crazy?”
“A lot crazy.”
“Is he an asshole like he-who-shall-never-be-named?”
Her ex-fiancé had been smoother than silk, never arguing or challenging her directly the way Alex did. Never making her think until the last moment when he stabbed her in the back with an entire pitchfork.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know what he wants?”
“He wants a date for a family dinner.”
A massive grin bloomed on her brother’s face. “A guy who drives you crazy wants to take you to a family dinner?” He laughed. “Sounds like he’s serious about you.”
“No, he’s…” Shit, how the hell was she supposed to explain something that was nuts to begin with? “I’m camouflage. So his relatives don’t bug him about being single.”
“You believed that excuse?”
“It’s not an excuse. We don’t actually like each other.”
“I’m jealous. I wish I could sit in a corner and watch that show.”
Calla’s irritation dissolved into regret and guilt. “I wish you could, too.”
“Hey,” Richard said. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m trying Richie, but it’s hard.” She wanted so badly to fix him. But the accident that broke his body had done too good of a job. No army of doctors could ever put her brother back together again.
“I want a full report of this dinner,” Richard ordered. “Everything, even the parts you’d rather forget.”
He sounded like Alex. Not something to say out loud. Richie would probably insist on seeing him.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “A full report.”
Richard gave her a nod. “Good.”
“I’d better get back to work.” She didn’t want to, she wanted to talk for another hour, but then she should be used to not getting what she wanted. “I love you, you tyrant.”
“I love you, too,” he said with a wink. ”You control freak.”
“Hey!”
Laughing, he ended their call.
…
At two thirty, Alex closed his office door, rolled down his shades, and attempted to take a fifteen-minute nap. He usually took one at this time of day. It recharged his batteries so he could work for another four to six hours feeling as fresh as he did first thing in the morning. Except for today. Today his phone was ringing off the hook.
After the phone rang for the third time in as many minutes, he admitted defeat, heaved himself up from his office sofa, and answered the call.
“Mr. Hardy, Helen Ridgeway is here to see you,” his receptionist said.
“Send her back, please.” He hung up and began to pack his briefcase with the documents he’d need for his afternoon court case.
“Helen,” he said as the statuesque lady walked into his office. He came around his desk to kiss her cheek. “What brings you by my office today?”
She tossed a newspaper onto his desk. “This.”
He picked it up and the picture on the front page caught his attention immediately. It was Calla Roberts handing a bag to the boy he’d seen her with. So, he wasn’t the only one who saw that little transaction.
But the date on the paper was wrong. It was dated for tomorrow. “Where did you get this?”
“Someone sent me a proof of tomorrow’s front page. This is the last thing I need. I’d fire her, but if I do that it’ll appear as if I believe the media’s interpretation of the photo.” Helen paced the length of his office, her voice as hard as ice in winter. “Calla Roberts is many things, but a drug dealer isn’t one of them.”
He began to read the accompanying article. “She is, however, very naive. I witnessed this same exchange and confronted her about it yesterday.” He held up the paper. “This was her giving the son of a patient from Helen’s House some antibiotics. The mother of this boy couldn’t afford to pay for the medication and had no way to get to a clinic, so Dr. Roberts gave him some free samples. He hitchhiked to the clinic and back. No money changed hands. No crime committed. I am, however, spending some time with her over the weekend to be sure.”
Helen stopped pacing. “It doesn’t matter why she did it. It looks sinister. This is only going to worsen the media frenzy.”
“Screw ’em.” This he was going to have fun with. “Tell anyone who asks that your lawyer will be giving a public comment at eleven in the morning on Saturday.”
