“When’s that?” He took the opportunity to fill in some of the blanks about Grace Turner, reconstructive surgeon. He looked her up and down. Why was she still wearing a scarf around her neck in her own home yet her feet were bare?
“October. I’ll be thirty-three, if you’re curious.”
“Wow, that’s old!” Mia said.
He grimaced and pinched his temples with his finger and thumb, then shaded his eyes. “Now, Mia, I’m much older than that.”
“How old?” Grace seemed to jump at the opportunity to find out his age, too, and for some reason that made him glad.
“Thirty-six. Won’t be thirty-seven until next January.”
Grace gave a deadpan glance at Mia. “Now, that’s old.” Mia covered her mouth and giggled, and stirred the soup with the other hand.
“Okay, okay, ladies, let’s move on.”
Grace finished the grilling, ladled out two small bowls of soup and Mitch helped carry the sandwiches to the table.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” Just before sitting down to eat, they had another meaningful glance into each other’s eyes, the kind that made time stop while swimming through her pale blue stare. He needed to ground himself or he’d start getting all kinds of bad ideas about what he’d like to do with and to Grace Turner. And though he’d once been drawn to beauty like a moth to flame, he’d given up women like her, finding most of them to be vain and superficial. Not so the case with Gracie, though.
“Mind if I talk about the new case while you eat?” he asked.
She blew over the soup on her spoon before tasting it. “Not at all.” Grace seemed far too natural to be vain.
While Mia ate like she hadn’t been fed all day, embarrassing him no end, and Grace daintily nibbled her sandwich and sipped her soup, Mitch filled her in. The boy had some kind of blast injuries and was from Ethiopia. Plans were being made to fly him over through Fair Go.
Grace listened intently.
Sitting at a table, like they were a family, clutched him around the chest, forcing him to realize how important it was. How he missed it from his childhood, and had never come close to being a family with Christie.
Was Mia lonely for a family? She certainly shined under Grace’s attention. Maybe he should ask her out strictly for Mia’s sake?
After they ate, he helped with the dishes, against Grace’s protest.
“So, I was thinking,” he said, drying the nonstick grill pan, “Mia and I are going to the park on Sunday, would you like to come along? You know, get you out of the apartment and show you some of London. What do you say?” He hadn’t felt this nervous asking a woman out since he’d first moved to Hollywood and started noticing A-list models. Especially since it was a woman he’d vowed to keep at arm’s length for his own good.
She gave him a surprised expression, then glanced at Mia, who’d started clapping, then she tossed him a not-fair-how-can-I-refuse gaze. “Sure. I don’t have any plans and it’s supposed to be a beautiful weekend, according to the TV weather report.”
“Great. Let’s have breakfast out first. How about I pick you up at ten?”
“Uh, okay.”
It was a dirty trick—how could she say no in front of his daughter?—but he didn’t care. Mia liked her and so did he. Damn it. He wanted to spend more time with Grace, whether it was a good idea or not. Today he’d indulge his weakness for beautiful women. Besides, now he knew where she lived.
Before they left they exchanged phone numbers. Against all better judgment, now that he had her number, he may as well use the information.
Grace closed the door and glanced around her apartment. It was as though someone had dimmed the lights. Things looked duller and her energy level had fizzled since Mitch and Mia had left. Amazed how much they’d brought into her life, she smiled and went around shutting off the lights.
He was a good man and a good father. Mia was a special child who blossomed under her father’s attention. But where was her mother? Not once had Mia said anything about a mother. Most kids shared how Mommy did it this way, or how much they liked the way their mother made them grilled cheese sandwiches, but not a peep about a mother from the darling. How long had Mitch’s wife been out of the picture, and did little Mia ever have contact with her? Where was Lexi when she needed to pick her brain?
Grace shook her head. It wasn’t up to her to figure everything out, no matter how curious she was. What mattered was how much she liked Mitch and the bright and curious Mia.
Grace’s heart swelled with affection for both of them, and it caught her off guard. She might not be able to get involved in their lives as much as she’d like, but she sure as hell could be a friend to Mitch and especially to Mia, who needed a mommy, not a nanny.
Sunday morning, and Mitch arrived as planned at 10:00 a.m., looking fantastic in jeans and a T-shirt. It fit snug and afforded Grace a view of his flat stomach, broad chest, and an in-the-flesh view of the muscles she’d been admiring on his arms all week. Mia wore denim overalls and her hair was in a curly ponytail, high on the back of her head—obviously Daddy’s go-to hairdo.
Grace had thrown on jeans and a gray turtleneck. Thankfully, it was a brisk morning, and she wouldn’t have to explain why she’d covered up. Again.
In the past, if someone simply had to know why she dressed the way she did, she’d mention her burns. Expecting to end the subject right there, she’d then notice the tsk-tsk expression on whoever it was, and the look would make her crazy. She’d learned well to keep her scars a secret.
Already, it was important to her never to have Mitch give her that tsk-tsk look, or feel sorry for her in any way. So far he hadn’t seemed to catch onto the way she carefully kept herself covered. Thank goodness.
“Are you ready for breakfast, Gracie?” he asked.
“Why, yes, Cooper, I’m starving. How about you, are you hungry, Mia?”
“I’m starving, too!” Grace wasn’t sure that Mia knew what the word meant, but Mia had mimicked it perfectly with the exact inflection she must have heard in her voice. Besides mimicking, the child liked to clap about things, too. This time, Grace found herself imitating Mia, clapping right along.
“Yay,” she said, suddenly more enthusiastic about having breakfast out than she could ever remember in her entire life.
“Great, because I’m taking you to our favorite waffle café, and they serve a lot of food.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
“By the way, you look beautiful today,” he said.
Grace almost tripped in her tracks to his car. “Thanks.” How should she handle the compliment? “You don’t look half-bad yourself.” She’d take the superficial route.
He gave her half a smile, letting her know he was okay with her brushing off his flattery.
Seriously, though, he thought she looked beautiful in her jeans and gray turtleneck? When was the last time a man had told her she looked beautiful, or she’d felt beautiful?
Meanwhile, he looked like a men’s magazine-cover model, which distracted Grace from the deep discussion with Mia about her latest favorite animated film, something about balloons and children flying to another land where everything was pink and toys could talk….
Forty-five minutes later, looking down on the largest Belgian waffle she’d ever seen, smothered in sliced bananas, and inhaling the marvelous scent of the bananas and fresh maple syrup imported from Maine, she indulged herself in the first bite. She thought she’d gone to taste heaven. A moan of delight escaped her throat.
“Sounds like you’re enjoying that a little too much,” Mitch said, an envious glint in his eyes.
“You knew what you were talking about,” she said, covering her mouth because she hadn’t finished chewing. “This place is great.”
“Glad you like it.” He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning and the stubble, combined with his sincere smile, almost had her moaning again, but for an entirely different re
ason. “By the way,” he interrupted her dreamy thoughts, “I thought we’d do something really fun after this.”
Her mouth was filled with a second bite of delicious waffle so all she did was look at him.
“I’ve been meaning to take Mia on one of those amphibious land/boat tours of London since we got here, and have yet to find the time. I thought today would be perfect.”
Mia squirmed in her chair with excitement and did her usual clap.
Grace, with her mouth still full, clapped along. She glanced at Mia, and when Mia gave a wide smile, food and all, Grace did the same.
“Girls, get a hold of yourselves.” Mitch played along, acting disgusted but obviously loving Grace coming down to his daughter’s level.
Why was hanging out with Mitch and his daughter so much fun?
An hour after breakfast, Grace, Mia and Mitch boarded a bright yellow amphibious boat, along with a load of other people. They scrambled to sit toward the front, Mia carefully placed between them. Grace couldn’t help feeling like they were a family, and she let herself pretend for a few seconds that they all belonged to each other. It felt too wonderful and scared her. Don’t daydream like this. It will only hurt later.
“Why are you quiet?” Mia asked.
Grace snapped out of her mixed-up feelings, jumping right back into the here and now. “I’m so excited about this adventure, I needed a moment to say thank you.”
“Who did you thank?”
Mia’s direct questions forced Grace to think. She gave it a second then smiled at Mitch. “I guess I should say it out loud, then, shouldn’t I? Thank you, Mitch, for inviting me along today.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, those sea-green eyes piercing right to her center. “I’m really glad you came.”
Mia clapped. Grace’s good mood swelled with the child’s natural enthusiasm.
For the next hour and a half they rode by the usual London tourist sites—Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square—and finished up by splashing the big barge-type boat, that was first used in World War II on the beaches of Normandy, into the Thames for an up-close look at the Houses of Parliament.
Mia clapped and squealed as they launched into the water, and Grace laughed along with Mitch. The driver had taken on a ridiculous personality during the trip, Drake McDuck, making everyone laugh and carry on like they were kids again. Forcing them all to say “quack-quack” any time he mentioned his name, which was constantly! Grace couldn’t remember when she’d last had so much fun. Then her mind jumped back to two weeks ago and the night she’d first met Mitch, when he’d taken her to the adventure playground.
The thought of having someone like Mitch in her life both scared and appealed to her. But having someone meant opening up and she couldn’t do it. Not that he was asking anyway.
A distant amphibious boat created a wake that rocked and rolled theirs. Mitch enjoyed watching Grace’s eyes open wide, just like his daughter’s. He laughed when Grace and Mia squealed in unison and grabbed hands. Mia was usually shy and withdrawn around grownups, but not with Grace. They’d taken to each other right off, as if they’d known each other for years. Seeing how Grace genuinely enjoyed his daughter’s company touched his heart. She wasn’t faking it, everything about her was real.
When had he felt so lighthearted, so free of burdens lately? He couldn’t remember, but looking into Grace’s crystal-blue eyes, how they shone with joy against her creamy skin and dark hair, he wanted to grab her and kiss her.
But he knew better. He wouldn’t ruin it for Mia. She’d made a new grown-up friend.
After the tour, they grabbed some vendor snacks and walked down to the Jubilee playground again. In broad daylight it was filled to overflowing with children and parents, and the noise level made it hard to talk without yelling. He’d liked it better the night they’d had the place to themselves.
Grace smiled at him. A lot. From across the playground while she pushed Mia on a swing. From the monkey bars as she stood beneath Mia, ready to catch her if she fell. And crawling along behind Mia in a long cylinder replicating a hollow tree trunk, her face lit up the day like the sun could never do.
A tight and sudden clutch in his chest brought him to his senses. It was so apparent how much Mia needed a mother, how she shone under Grace’s attention. Every child needed a mother, yet it was the one thing he couldn’t give his daughter. It wasn’t Grace’s job to fill in the blanks in his life. He’d fouled everything up by getting swept away by Christie’s beauty. He’d been naive when he’d first opened his medical practice with Rick, his best friend from medical school in Southern California. He’d fraternized with the Hollywood crowd, simply because he’d been able to. Sure, he’d gone into plastic surgery to make big bucks, taking into account that Hollywood and glamour went hand in hand. Suddenly, he and his partner had been the big deal in town, and he’d been seduced by beauty everywhere, the kind of beauty he could make with his own hands.
There was an old saying about Hollywood stealing a person’s soul, and for the five years he’d had his practice there, he’d lost his. He’d left the family life and values of his youth behind to explore the superficial and vain side of things. The prettier the women had been that he’d dated, the happier he’d been … or so he’d thought.
Until he’d chosen the most beautiful woman of all, having been completely captivated by her looks, and somehow not seeing past the perfect facade to notice something much greater had been missing. Once they’d married he’d tried to go back to the way things had been when he’d grown up. Marriage meant a family with children. But that approach had proved to be a disaster. And his precious Mia had suffered the cruelest of all costs—a detached mother.
He shook his head and focused back on Grace, currently running and laughing with Mia. She was a busy surgeon, in a new city, probably just getting her bearings. It wasn’t fair to expect anything from her. It wasn’t safe either. What if Mia got too attached to Grace?
She was a business colleague, and that should be all. He’d have to pay for his mistakes and poor choice of a business and personal partner by himself.
An anxious reflex drilled through him. Had he made a mistake, asking Grace out today?
“Can we go to the pagoda?” Mia rushed him, catching him off guard. The Chinese Pagoda in Kew Gardens was, for some reason, his daughter’s favorite place.
“It’s getting kind of late, honeybee.”
She used her surefire approach and jumped up and down, while saying, “Please, please, please?”
“I’d love to see Kew Gardens,” Grace said. “That is, if it isn’t cutting too much into your plans for the rest of the day?”
Mia clapped.
“On one condition, Gracie.”
She stood there looking lovely and sun-kissed from a highly cooperative London day. It was all he could do not to reach out and hug her. “What’s that?”
“We stop for some Chinese takeout and have a picnic while we’re there.”
“I’d love to.”
Mia cheered. “Yay, we’re going to the pagoda.”
Later, Grace thanked Mitchell for a perfectly lovely day, when he saw her to the front of her building. Mia had fallen asleep, and rather than leave her in the car he hoisted her into his arms. So zonked was she from their long day spent entirely outdoors, that the child rested her head on his shoulder and he carried her as naturally as any father worth his salt.
He smiled and mouthed, “You’re welcome,” not wanting to wake Mia.
Somewhere around the time of the playground, he’d changed. His mood had shifted and since then he’d seemed cautious, withdrawn even.
Had she done something to offend him? Maybe she’d pushed it by agreeing to go to Kew Gardens with them, when it was clear he was ready to call it a day. She wanted to ask what she’d done, but it wouldn’t be fair to grill a guy with his daughter like a sack of potatoes on his chest and shoulder.
She’d let her hair
down and enjoyed every minute of their outing, something she hadn’t done with a man since she’d been burned. Mia was such a fun child, she rarely fussed, and she actually listened to reason. He’d done a great job of not spoiling her but making sure she knew she was loved, and Grace wanted to tell him so, but, again, now just wasn’t the time.
Sometimes actions spoke louder than words ever could. The man had gone out of his way to show her a good time, and she appreciated it with all her heart.
Too bad he was holding his sleeping daughter. She went up on tiptoe, anchored herself by balancing her hand on his free arm and kissed his cheek.
“I’ll always love London because of the way you shared it with me,” she whispered.
He looked baffled, as if he couldn’t think of a proper reply.
She laughed quietly and shook her head. Men were funny that way. She’d been too honest, and scared him off. Oh, well, at least he knew how she felt.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she said, then opened the door to her building without giving him another glance. “Tell Mia good-night for me.”
“Will do. Say good-night, Gracie.”
She grinned. “Good night, Gracie.”
When she closed the door, she leaned her back against it, fighting off the strong desire to know Mitch and his beautiful child more. But one other thing inched into her thoughts—could the reason he blew hot and cold around her be because of unresolved issues with his ex-wife? What if he still loved her?
Then why was he in one part of the world and she in another? Hell, she had proved to be a lousy snoop. She’d spent the whole day with the man and didn’t even know if his ex lived in London or the States.
She sighed—even if there weren’t any concerns hanging things up on his end, there could still never be a possibility of them becoming close because of her issues—then she pushed off from the door and headed for the elevator. That about summed up the sorry state of her life—seeing wonderful relationships, longing to have one for herself, but knowing she never could. And she was really getting sick of it.
Damn Mitch for rubbing it in her face.
American Surgeon in London Page 8
