Judith Mcwilliams - Dr. Charming

Gina ignored the oft-repeated comment.

“And after I left his office, I got to wondering what else you might have lied to me about, so I went to see the lawyer who handled Dad’s estate.”

“You had no right!”

Gina’s light blue eyes momentarily darkened with anger. “As one of the beneficiaries, I had every right. I found out that, far from leaving you almost penniless as you’d claimed, Dad left you more than enough money to live on. Not only that but he left me enough money to finish my degree.”

Gina jerked her suitcase off the bed and started toward the door.

“But you can’t leave me!” her mother screamed. “I love you.”

Gina paused and looked back at her mother. “Is love your excuse or your explanation for what you’ve done?”

Her mother ignored the question. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going as far away from here as I can get, and as for what I’m going to do, I intend to start living instead of just existing,” Gina said as she turned and walked out the door.

Gina gently touched the brakes of her car as she rounded a sharp bend in the narrow Massachusetts road and saw the lights of a small village directly ahead.

She shifted restlessly, trying to relieve some of the stiffness driving all day had caused. Her stomach, as if in sympathy with her muscles, gave a sudden rumble, reminding her that it had been a long time since lunch.

When she reached the village, she slowed to a crawl, looking for someplace to eat. Finding a brightly lit diner, she parked in front of it.

Grabbing her purse, she got out of the car and automatically locked it. A fugitive gust of crisp September wind raised goose bumps on her bare arms and whipped her reddish-brown hair into her face. She absently pushed it back as she considered unlocking the car and digging through her luggage to find a sweater. Finally she decided she wouldn’t be outside long enough for it to be worth the trouble.

She started toward the restaurant and then paused when a garish sign across the street advertising Bill’s Bar caught her eye. Turning, she studied the faintly dilapidated building, taking in what seemed to be a score of neon signs advertising beers, most of which she’d never heard of.

Her gaze swung back to the restaurant. It looked staidly middle class and boringly respectable. Whereas Bill’s Bar looked daring. Adventurous. In keeping with the new life she was determined to carve for herself.

Definitely Bill’s Bar, she decided.

Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she quickly crossed the street, pushed open the bar’s door and stepped inside.

Nervously her gaze swept the crowded, noisy room. Feeling conspicuous, she hurriedly sat down at an empty table near the door. Picking up the cardboard menu lying on the red-and-white-checked plastic tablecloth, she studied it. It was heavy on imported beers and light on food.

A middle-aged waitress appeared a few minutes later. “What can I get you?”

“A bowl of chili, apple pie and a cup of coffee,” Gina said.

“Won’t be a minute.” The waitress headed back to the kitchen, calling out Gina’s order to someone named Margie as she went.

Gina leaned against the back of the scuffed wooden chair and surreptitiously studied the bar’s patrons while she waited for her food. A large party at the back seemed to be having a great time. A wistful smile curved Gina’s mouth at the infectious sound of their laughter.

“Here you are, miss.” The waitress slapped a big bowl filled to the brim with chili down in front of her. A steaming cup of coffee followed. “I’ll get your pie in a minute.”

Gina was adding milk to her coffee when the bar’s door opened and a slither of chilly night air wrapped itself around her ankles.

“Hey, Nick, how’s the arm coming?” a man from the back of the room called out.

Curious, Gina turned to see who Nick was. Her eyes widened when she saw the man standing just inside the door. He was tall. At least six inches taller than she was. And broad. She measured the substantial width of his shoulders beneath the thick, cream Aryan sweater he was wearing.

Unconsciously her tongue moistened her lower lip as her eyes traveled down over his flat stomach and his long, jean-covered legs.

Hastily she glanced down at her chili, trying to stifle her sudden, inexplicable fascination with his body. She took a slow, deep breath, hoping the flush she could feel burning her face wasn’t visible to anyone else in the room.

What was the matter with her? she wondered uneasily. So what if the man was built like the embodiment of every sexual fantasy she’d ever had. She was old enough to know that sexual attraction was nothing more than nature’s way of ensuring the continuation of the species.

Compulsively her gaze returned to the man. Maybe so, she conceded, but in his case, nature had certainly baited one very attractive trap.

She watched from beneath her lashes as the man walked toward the bar, sat down and reached for a glass of beer the bartender placed in front of him without a word ever having been spoken.

A regular patron, Gina concluded as she studied the man’s ruggedly carved features, her eyes lingering on the strength of his square chin. He had a strong face. Not conventionally handsome, but arresting. Full of character and strength.

Gina watched as he awkwardly picked up his beer with his left hand. Curious, her gaze swung to his right hand and she noticed a cast peeping out from beneath the sleeve of his sweater. He appeared to have broken either his arm or his wrist.

Her eyes narrowed speculatively as he impatiently shoved his fingers through his inky black hair. Nick, whoever he was, did not appear to be in the best of humors. Was his arm painful? she wondered, finding the idea strangely unacceptable. Or maybe something else was bothering him? Maybe he was recovering from a bad relationship? she thought fancifully. Maybe his heart was broken?

Gina’s gaze traced over the sensual line of his lips and mentally jettisoned the idea. He looked like a man who would break hearts, not have his own broken.

Absently, she picked up her spoon and started to eat, her eyes never leaving Nick. He appealed to her on an instinctive level she hadn’t even been aware had existed until now.

Sex, she mocked her own reaction. That was all it was. Plain old animal attraction.

But what an animal Nick was, she thought dreamily. The king of the beasts. Rugged and…

“Here’s your pie, miss,” the waitress’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Gina blinked and looked down, surprised to see that she’d finished her chili.

“Thank you,” Gina said, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed her preoccupation with Nick.

It was a vain hope. The waitress leaned closer and whispered, “That’s our Nick Balfour. He has a place outside-a town. Known him since he was a kid. And his folks before him. And he ain’t got no wife tucked away like some I could mention. You like what you see, kiddo, grab it. Life’s too short not to.”

Gina’s stomach did a sudden flip-flop, and her fingers began to tingle as she imagined what Nick would feel like if she were brave enough to take the woman’s advice and grab him. He’d feel firm and warm and…

“Think about it, kiddo. Like they say, you only go round once.”

“Um, thank you,” Gina muttered.

Satisfied, the waitress gave her a thumbs-up and sauntered off.

Taking a deep breath to slow her racing heart, Gina looked back at Nick. He was staring into his beer as if he expected to find the secret of eternal life written on the bottom of the glass.

There was no getting around it. She found Nick Balfour fascinating, she faced the fact with her usual lack of self-deception. At least, she found his physical appearance fascinating, and she’d very much like to find out if his personality measured up to his body’s promise.