Connie Cox - His Hidden American Beauty

“Of course.”

Annalise had the strongest urge to turn around so she could look into his eyes, but practicality took over. What she saw there could have no bearing upon her.

As she tugged her cart it turned sideways, crashing into this man who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. If she were only as graceful as she was independent.

“Sorry.” She meant for her gaze to skitter across his face, but his eyes ensnared hers.

Tiger eyes. Amber-golden with specks of brown, rimmed in a darker brown. Tiger eyes with a depth of—sorrow?—behind the brightness.

“No problem.”

He blinked, releasing her and allowing her to blink as well. When he raised an eyebrow at her she realized she’d been staring.

Flustered, she yanked her cart, banging into the counter and almost taking out the passenger scanner. He must think her a total klutz.

What did it matter what he thought? Odds were they would never see each other again unless he had a medical emergency. And he certainly looked healthy to her. Well-worn jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt couldn’t hide his physical fitness.

She bumped into passengers all the time. None of them elicited a significant response from her.

Annalise overcame the impulse to check him out one more time.

What was it about him that made her feel …? What? Aware? Self-conscious? Tingly? That made her feel anything at all?

Dear Reader

When cruise ship doctor Annalise Walcott first sees celebrity surgeon Niko Christopoulos she thinks he must be a swimsuit model. But, like the ocean, Niko is more than he appears to be on the surface.

Annalise has her own uneasily buried secrets that only a man used to braving the depths of human tragedy—a man like Niko—can possibly bring to the surface.

Will love be enough to give these two the strength to survive the stormy wreckage of their pasts and build a bright future under the sun together?

Wishing you calm winds and gentle seas.

Connie

PS I’d love to visit with you!

Find me on Facebook, www.facebook.com/ConnieCox.writer,

on Twitter, www.twitter.com/conniecox,

on Goodreads, www.goodreads.com/Connie_Cox,

and on my website, www.conniecox.com

CONNIE COXhas loved Harlequin Mills & Boon romances since she was a young teen. To be a Harlequin Mills & Boon author now is a fantasy come to life. By training, Connie is an electrical engineer. Through her first job, working on nuclear scanners and other medical equipment, she had a unique perspective on the medical world. She is fascinated by the inner strength of medical professionals, who must balance emotional compassion with stoic logic, and is honoured to showcase the passion of these dedicated professionals through her own passion of writing. Married to the boy-next-door, Connie is the proud mother of one terrific daughter and son-in-law and one precocious dachshund.

Connie would love to hear from you. Visit her website at www.ConnieCox.com

Recent titles by Connie Cox:

THE BABY WHO SAVED DR CYNICAL

RETURN OF THE REBEL SURGEON

Available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DR. ANNALISE WALCOTT adjusted the two huge cases of medicines on her cart before she made the steep climb up the gangplank of the luxury cruise liner Neptune’s Fantasy . While she’d had most of the supplies delivered straight to her onboard facilities, she liked to bring along the ones that needed refrigeration herself, just to make sure they stayed at the correct temperature. Not that she’d ever had a problem—Annalise avoided problems as often as she could.

Call her a control freak and she wouldn’t deny it. She’d learned a long time ago that the only person she could consistently rely on was herself.

She trailed behind the last-minute stragglers, crewmates eking out the final seconds of shore leave before they boarded for the transatlantic cruise. They would be out at sea for over ten days straight before the first port of call, which meant a lot fewer breaks for the staff. And only a small percentage of crew got shore leave at each port. With rotating days off, most of them wouldn’t have a personal day on land for at least four weeks.

One by one, they went through Security, a procedure that took forever but which, she had to admit, was a necessity.

A Gulf breeze made the afternoon pleasant despite the strong subtropical sun heating Annalise’s back through her roomy, short-sleeved T-shirt. Thankfully, she’d slathered her arms and legs with sunblock before donning her shorts and sandals so she had no worries about her pale skin turning pink. Not a good example for a doctor to set when she warned others about avoiding sunburn.

“Need some help with those, Doc?” A bartender named Brandy pointed to the cases. Brandy sported a new tattoo, still red and slightly swollen.

Annalise hoped she’d had it done by a reputable shop. Illegal backroom bargains had consequences. She had long-lasting firsthand knowledge of that. If only hers had been as harmless as a tattoo.

“I’ve got them. Thanks, though.” She moved forward another six inches in the queue, wincing as the corner of the cart dug into her ankle.

“Have a nice time on shore?” Bartenders were chatty by nature and Brandy was no exception.

Annalise had never learned the art of making small talk herself, beyond the few stock phrases she used to put her patients at ease.

“Just long enough to realize I’m ready to be back at sea.”

Being on land in her home port of New Orleans always made her uneasy, even though all personal threats had long since passed.

“Didn’t I see you with a friend on the patio at the Crescent City Brew House this afternoon? A male friend?”

“He was my study partner in medical school.” They’d been more than study partners, but the bartender didn’t need to know how he’d helped her work through her pain and grief all those years ago. “He’s my platonic friend.”

“Nothing more? Not even a friend with benefits?”

Annalise laughed, inwardly wincing as it sounded brittle and forced in her ears. “He’s not my type.” Not that she had a type.

“What kind of man do you like, Doc? I’ll bet I can fix you up. I’m fairly good at that sort of thing.”

Annalise wished it were that easy. “You bartenders are really cupids in disguise, aren’t you? But there are rules against that sort of thing, remember?”

“I don’t know about you, Doc, but the rule against fraternization gets old when I’ve been out to sea for a while. It’s not natural to go without sex for such long periods of time.”

Sex. Shipboard sex meant a shipboard relationship—or at least a shipboard flirtation. No way would she risk her career—or her peace of mind—for a fling.

To forestall the conversation, Annalise pulled the brim of her baseball cap down tight and deliberately looked up.

From where she stood, halfway up the ship’s side with the ocean far below her and the top deck far above, Annalise felt the weight of such a huge amount of people, both guests and staff, dependent upon the ship’s medical facilities. As usual, she was the sole physician on board, but she had plenty of trained medical professionals to help her, including a new physician’s assistant. The P.A. came with great recommendations and Annalise was looking forward to meeting her.