CHAPTER FIVE
MID-MONDAY MORNING, Mitchell barreled into Grace’s office in the clinic with knit brows, looking frustrated. Fired up, as her daddy used to say. Even while obviously testy, she found him appealing. She quashed the thought, switching to all business, as she’d promised herself to do last night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Thanks to spending the entire day with him!
“I can’t believe the hacks out there,” he said, stance wide, hands on hips, scrubs fitting deliciously.
“Out where?”
“Do you know what I spent my morning doing?” The O.R. cap brought out that extra bit of blue in his otherwise green eyes, making him even more devastatingly appealing.
“What?”
“Fixing a botched plastic surgery job on a twenty-two-year-old, that’s what.” He paced the small space in front of her desk. “The guy mangled her lips, making her look like a duck. She had a smile like the Joker from that movie. Grotesque. And why would a surgeon agree to do a face-lift on someone just out of their teens? I tell you, sometimes I don’t get our profession.”
She considered his anger, threw in some of her own, then thought about their jobs and the oaths they’d taken when they’d become doctors—do no harm. She also thought about something that had been weighing on her mind since she’d been assigned a certain high-profile case.
“Isn’t that what we do? Whatever people want? Not the duck-lips part, or the botching-up part, but don’t we agree to do whatever our rich patients want? Isn’t that what we promised to do for Davy Cumberbatch?”
“This girl is neither rich nor demanding. She’s naive, and that hack took advantage of her wanting to look beautiful.”
But Grace’s direct comments stopped his thunder for a couple of seconds. He stopped pacing and pulled in his chin, as if he hadn’t considered the comparison of Hunter Clinic to hacks ever before.
“You said it yourself,” she said. “Fix the rich to help the poor? Or something along those lines.” She didn’t back down.
Maybe she didn’t want to let him off the hook because she was still upset with him for tilting her world sideways, for making her see what she could never have. A family. A love of her life. It wasn’t in the cards for her, and the Sunday outing with Mitch and Mia had driven that point home. Yes, she was upset with him for making it so clear, and right now she’d make him squirm on a professional level as penance.
“What we do,” he said, stepping closer to her desk, balancing on his hands and leaning in, “is completely different from that. Sure, we try to keep the wealthy looking fresh and young as long as possible, but we don’t mangle their faces in the process. We give people what they want without making them caricatures of themselves. We know where to draw the line. This guy was a hack. He took this young woman’s hard-earned money and botched the job on her face. It took me twice as long to fix his mess as I’m sure it did for him to throw in those lip implants. How can he live with himself?”
She remembered the first case she’d ever scrubbed in on in plastic surgery, how nervous she’d been that she might ruin someone’s appearance for life. Her own scars could at least be covered, but what could a person do when their face was ruined? Like the lady who’d had her face nearly ripped off by her pet dogs, and who’d needed a face transplant. She sometimes wondered why people took the chance with cosmetic surgery, but understood there were hundreds of reasons. The business of beautifying people was thriving, and that wouldn’t likely change in the future. It was merely a sign of the times.
“Do you ever wonder what makes a woman of her age seek plastic surgery?” she asked.
His frustrated expression turned stone cold. “I’ve been trying to figure out why women flock to it for years.”
“And men.”
He nodded his agreement. “Haven’t come close to an answer yet.”
The fire returned to his eyes, and she found him sexier than ever, leaning over her desk, engaging her in a philosophical discussion on the pros and cons of cosmetic surgery, lip jobs and hacks. She had the urge to grab his tie, pull him close, and kiss him silly.
But she didn’t.
Then she noticed he was studying her lips again, and she had a crazy idea. What if he’d “fixed” the botched-up lip job to look like hers? Now she’d gone off at the deep end, imagining things she wanted to believe. That Julie Treadwell mouth repair may have looked similar to her lips, but the rest, him doing it on purpose, was all a crazy fantasy she’d made up. She shouldn’t flatter herself like that. Didn’t deserve it. But maybe later she could visit Julie and check out her theory anyway.
“As far as Davy Cumberbatch goes, I see your point.” Mitch had simmered down on the anger scale, but something else smoldered in his eyes. “Not many people would call me on it, though. So thanks for pointing it out.”
How many men, surgeons no less, ever admitted they were wrong? She really could fall for this guy if she wasn’t careful.
“By the way, you look really beautiful again today.” Out of the blue he’d focused on her appearance.
“Now you’re just buttering me up. What favor do you want?”
Didn’t he get it? Once he saw her hidden scars he’d change his mind about her in no time flat. That’s how it had been with her ex, and it would be the same with Mitch.
“I’m serious.” He engaged with her eyes until she thought she might squirm in her chair, but suddenly he snapped out of it. “When Lucy Grant comes out of Recovery, I’m going to give her a stern talking to. Her face was good enough just the way it was. Now that she has more realistic-looking lips, I hope she doesn’t use this face-lift, lip-job experience as an entry-level drug, so to speak.”
Back in her residency, Grace had read several psychology journal articles on people becoming addicted to plastic surgery procedures, and they’d influenced her toward specializing in reconstructive surgery over cosmetic. She figured just about anything in life could become addictive … like gazing into the depths of Mitchell Cooper’s eyes.
That frustrated look came back to his face. Something stirred beneath the surface of his thoughts, and the jump in his pulse rate was almost palpable in the air. This case had really gotten under his skin, and she could tell he needed to talk more about it. She wished she had time to be there for him, but her job and patients came first. That was the whole reason she’d come to the Hunter Clinic. “Maybe we can talk later,” she said, as she prepared to leave for Kate’s. She was due to fix a nasty cheek scar from a car accident on a young woman who was getting ready to head off to college in the states for the summer.
He mumbled something unintelligible in a discontented tone.
For some crazy reason, even that made her smile. He was passionate about his job and had a tendency to wear his emotions on his scrubs. A lovely change from most men she’d known. Bottom line, the guy had way too much influence over her state of mind….
But later never came. When Grace finished the surgery that afternoon and returned to the Hunter Clinic, she stopped by Mitch’s office, and he was already gone.
That wouldn’t stop her. She wanted to see him. Besides giving him another chance to vent his frustrations, she also had some questions about Davy Cumberbatch and their scheduled meeting tomorrow night.
She wandered out to Helen in the reception area.
“I was looking for Cooper, I mean Mitch. Cooper. Any idea where he is?”
The middle-aged, always-meticulously-coiffed-and-made-up receptionist had a curious twinkle in her gray eyes in response to her question. I know you’re wondering why I should want to know, but it’s none of your business. Besides, as his business colleague I have a right to know where he lives. Oh, quit looking at me like that and just tell me already.
“He had to pick up his daughter early today, as it’s the nanny’s night off.”
How should she go about this? Mitch had gotten her home address out of Gwen, why couldn’t she get his out of her, too? Sure, she had his phone
number in her cell phone now, she could call him and ask him her questions, but she’d rather talk to him face-to-face. He’d seemed so disturbed about the botched job on the young woman, and they’d barely scratched the surface of the conversation when she’d had to leave.
Not to mention those questions about Davy’s consultation.
Truth was she wanted to know where he lived. She wanted to see Mia again, even though she’d talked to herself just last night about not getting too close to either of them. It had only been twenty-four hours and she already missed the child. And Mitch. Besides, today was another day, and she sensed Mitch needed her to bounce his thoughts off.
Wasn’t it practically her duty?
And if she went to his house, she preferred to make it a surprise visit, like he’d done—what goes around comes around and all. Being painfully honest, she wanted to see him look surprised for once.
“Here,” Helen said, as she finished scribbling something on a piece of notepaper with the chic Hunter Clinic logo at the top.
Grace pulled out of her thoughts and looked at it—an address, Mitch’s address. She hadn’t even asked yet. Was she that obvious? “Thank you!”
From the coy Mona Lisa smile on Helen’s face, apparently she had been.
Grace stood outside the door of the Marylebone Street house. She liked the quaint appeal of the traditional mews-style home—flat front, two stories, all white except for the front and garage doors, which were a dark and vibrant blue. There were lots of windows to let in daylight, and a huge green vine growing up the beam beside the porch up to the second floor, then branching out and going wild along the second story. A ledge underneath the front window held a long flower box, full to the brim with plants and bright colors. The man seemed to have a green thumb, and overall she was impressed by Mitch’s taste.
She hoped he was there, having come all this way in a taxi and already having sent off the driver. Maybe she should have had him wait? In this out-of-the-way London neighborhood, it would be hard to find another cab. But wasn’t that what cell phones were for?
Maybe she should have called first. Doubts added up as she cast her glance down the street at the cab growing smaller and smaller. This wasn’t the brainiest plan she’d ever hatched, but …
The door swung open, and there stood Mitch in jeans and a green T-shirt, making his eyes look unbearably emerald. His surprised expression soon turned welcoming. “Gracie! I didn’t expect to see you again today.”
“Well, Cooper, you seemed so irritated earlier I wanted to make sure you didn’t come home and take it out on your daughter.”
He laughed. “Like that would ever happen.”
She knew, without knowing him really well, that he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Especially when it came to his daughter—the guy was a pushover.
“I hadn’t even knocked. How’d you know I was here?”
“Saw the cab through the window. Got nosy.”
“Okay. Well, anyway, I sort of accused you of being a hypocrite earlier and that wasn’t my intention at all,” she said, suddenly feeling the need for a full explanation. “I was merely pointing out certain aspects about our jobs that could be examined more.”
“It’s after hours, Gracie,” he said, leaning on the doorframe. “Quit sounding like a professor and come inside.”
She flushed, having taken the dry, intellectual route instead of his emotions-on-the-sleeve approach.
“Come on.” He motioned her inside. “Mia will be thrilled you’re here.”
What about you? Are you thrilled I’m here, too? The words were foremost in her mind and on the tip of her tongue as she stepped over the threshold, but she didn’t dare utter them. Why did her mixed-up feelings for Mitch make her so damn insecure?
“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked, breaking into her twisted thoughts. “I could throw something together for you.” He swaggered down his entryway like a man who knew he was king of his castle. “You know, return the favor.”
“I grabbed a sandwich from the buffet at the clinic just before I left. Thanks.” The clinic provided just about everything the employees needed, including an exercise pool in the basement and a lounge fully stocked with food.
She glanced around his small but inviting home. It lacked the touch of a woman, with a high technological feel using glass, metal and leather rather than overstuffed cushions and colorful swatches of fabrics. But there was plenty of evidence that a child lived there. One entire corner of the living area was furnished with the latest sturdy plastic playhouse equipment complete with a minitreehouse beside it, big enough for Mia to crawl up into. Wow. Grace had never seen anything like it.
“Gracie!” Mia’s usual dainty voice cranked up in volume when she barreled down the hall and discovered Grace in the living room. “Did you come to see me?”
“Of course I did.” Without thinking, Grace bent over and lifted the five-year-old, and swung her round. “I missed you already.”
The child’s gorgeous smile nearly broke her heart. Mitch stood nearby, a mixture of sex appeal and fatherly pride rolled into one gorgeous package.
An emotional flutter gripped her inside. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here. She’d ignored her better judgement, found an excuse, and insinuated herself right back into their lives. Exactly the opposite of what she’d resolved to do. What the hell was the matter with her?
“Can I get you a drink? Some soda or wine? Tea?”
A bit on edge, she made a snap decision. “You know, a glass of wine doesn’t sound half-bad. White, if you have it.”
“Coming right up.” He was in his socks, and he quietly padded off to the kitchen.
Mia pulled Grace to her play area. “Want to see my house?”
“I sure do. Do you live here all the time?”
That got the reaction she’d hoped for out of the little girl, who giggled. “No. I have a real bedroom. Want to see it?”
“Maybe later, after I’m through visiting with your daddy. But why don’t you show me your favorite toy?”
“Okay!” With that Mia ran back down the hall, disappearing behind a door.
Grace took the moment to scan the rest of the living room. Mitch definitely liked modern art as there were several bright splotched paintings decorating his walls, similar to the one in his office. Her gaze zeroed in on a small frame on a smoked-glass table top beside a black leather recliner. In the frame was a photo of a young woman. A beautiful young woman.
Grace’s heart sank. Was this his ex-wife? She was a woman worthy of being a famous model or actress. Perfect bone structure like that was rare. She wanted to pick up the picture and study it more closely, but didn’t. With a father like Mitch and a gorgeous mother like this—if that’s who she was—no wonder Mia was so adorable.
“Here you go,” he said, from behind her.
She swung round, startled. “Oh, thanks.” She’d been caught staring at the picture, so she may as well fess up. “Is that your ex-wife?” she said, before her filtering process kicked in as she sat down. It was none of her business, why had she asked? But it was too late, she had.
Mitch flattened his lips into a straight line. A resigned expression took over from the earlier welcoming one. He nodded. “Yes.”
He’d fallen far short of clarifying why the portrait had been put in such a prominent place, and must have sensed she needed more of an explanation.
“That was taken a couple of years before Mia was born, when we first got married.”
“She’s lovely, Mitch.” Her heart ached to say it, but it was true. Deep-seated insecurities came out of hiding, giving her a defeated and depressed feeling. She tried to hide it. She’d gone from prom queen in high school to nerdy med student in college, and then … the burns, and that progression had shattered her confidence.
After loving a woman as beautiful as this, how could a man settle for a scarred mess like her? Then one more thought popped up, and it hurt even more.
Did he still lo
ve his ex-wife? Why else would he leave her picture out?
A distant sad twinge invaded his gaze as he studied the photograph along with her. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”
Mia came running back into the room. “Here’s Koko, my favorite teddy bear.”
“Oh, let me see him. May I hold him?” Grace set down her wine and reached for the black stuffed animal with a red plaid ribbon around its neck, hoping she’d hidden her true reaction to Mitch’s unclear explanation about the photograph.
Mia kissed the bear’s head and handed him over. Grace rocked him like a baby and poked his stomach while sitting him on her lap, anything to get her mind off that picture. “Aw, he’s adorable.”
Mia stood close and patted her bear’s head gently, like a doting mother. Grace loved the smell of her—fresh children’s shampoo mixed with a day of playing. She could have just as easily snuggled with Mia in that chair as the bear.
Satisfied her favorite toy was in good hands, Mia dashed off to play with her other toys in the corner. Mitch sat nearby in a chair exactly like the one she was in, and drank a large glass of water. She took a sip of wine, finding it light and fruity, wishing she was drinking it under different circumstances.
“You’re probably wondering why I stopped by,” she said.
“You were quite clear about it at the door.”
“I’m not being snoopy or anything, I promise. I just got the feeling you needed a little more time to vent about your case today. We were cut short by my schedule.”
Half his mouth hitched into a smile. “Ah, yeah, well, I blew that out of my system, thanks to you.”
“We’re coworkers, and we need to be there for each other. I feel like I could do the same with you, if I needed to.”
“Definitely.”
She took another sip of wine then set down the glass. “Mind if I pick your brain a bit about Davy?”
“Not at all. What’s up?” Mitch leaned forward in the chair, forearms resting on his thighs, looking upward beneath a creased brow. She could hardly think with those eyes staring her down.
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