Amy Ruttan - Unwrapped By The Duke

Geri wrinkled her nose. “I’m a doctor.”

Her father ran a hand through his hair and then sighed. “You’re just as stubborn as your mother.”

Geri shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Though she really didn’t think it was much of a compliment as she didn’t want much association or comparison with her mother.

“Hmm.” Her father then pulled out a cream-colored envelope and handed it to her. “You’ve been invited to your first social gathering.”

She took the envelope and stared at the fancy calligraphy. “What’s it for?”

“It’s for a party after the London International Horse Show. We’ve both been invited. It’s formal attire as the Duke of Weatherstone has been invited. You know he’s in the line of royal succession.”

Geri cocked her eyebrows and stared at the invitation. “How do I turn it down?”

“You can’t turn it down.”

“Why not?” she asked, flipping it over. “It’s for this weekend.”

“And what plans do you have for this weekend?”

She shrugged. “Christmas shopping.”

“You’re going. I’ve already told our hostess we’d be attending. Besides, it’s a good way to get to know some of our patients. A lot of them will be there.”

Before she could argue there was a knock at the door and Thomas stuck his head in. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he’d been up all night, but that didn’t deter from his general svelte and put-together appearance.

Good lord, he was handsome and a brilliant surgeon to boot.

Why did he have to look so good?

He’s off-limits. Off. Limits.

“Am I interrupting?” Thomas asked.

Yes.

“No, Thomas, come in,” Charles said.

Thomas opened the door and came in, jamming his hands in his finely tailored trouser pockets. “I wanted to report that Lord Twinsbury made it through the night.”

Her father nodded and smiled. “That’s excellent news.”

“Wonderful,” she said.

Thomas glanced at her briefly, his gaze landing on the cream-colored envelope. “Ah, I see the invitations for the Gileses’ party have arrived.”

“Yes, apparently the Duke of Weatherstone will be there,” Geri teased.

A strange look passed across his face. “Well, I can tell you who won’t be there—Lord Twinsbury. He’ll still be in hospital for another week at least. At least he’s out of the intensive care unit, but he’s demanding to see his cardiologist.”

Her father sighed. “I’ll get Jensen to bring the car round.”

“No, Charles. He wants the good-looking one.” Thomas grinned at her. “He’s asking for you, Dr. Collins.”

Her father chuckled. “You’d better go, Geraldine. And please take Jensen.”

“The Westway is completely jammed, though,” Thomas said. “She could always take the tube.”

Geraldine couldn’t help but laugh at that, especially when her father glared at Thomas. “Only if you accompany her.”

“Of course. I am a gentleman after all.”

“That remains to be seen,” her father mumbled.

Geraldine set down the invitation and grabbed her coat, heading out into the hallway with Thomas.

“So much for getting to know patients today.” Geraldine followed him down to his office, where he grabbed his own coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

“You are getting to know a patient by going to the hospital and attending Lord Twinsbury. By doing so you’re letting your other future patients know that you care.”

“He just had surgery, you should be the one attending to him. Not me. I’m not the surgeon.”

Which was a bitter pill to swallow.

“And I will be. I am accompanying you after all.” Thomas cocked a head to one side. “You’re not wearing a hat?”

“No, should I be?”

Thomas shrugged. “It’s cold outside.”

“I’m from Scotland. This is not cold for December. This is balmy,” she teased.

“Balmy?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Thomas just shook his head. “Come on, then, my lady, I’m to be your escort to the tube.”

Geri fell into step beside him and they walked down the street toward Regent’s Park Underground Station.

“You know, it’s been some time since I’ve taken public transport,” he said offhandedly.

“Don’t tell me you have a driver as well.”

“Good lord, no. I find it a particular challenge to wrestle my way along the motorways on my daily commute.”

“You’re an interesting character, Mr. Ashwood,” Geri remarked. “Wrestling motorways and painting people in the nude.”

“Oh, yes, which is why you should get to know me better,” he whispered huskily.

“Hmm, that remains to be seen.”

“You still never told me what interests you beyond medicine, Dr. Collins.”

“I do like reading.”

“I do hope it’s racy novels.”

“Naturally,” she teased, completely forgetting herself.

What’re you doing?

“Actually, I love Jane Austen.”

“Most ladies do. I prefer Chaucer myself and Icelandic skalds.”

“You’re a man of many hidden depths.”

“I could say the same about you, Dr. Collins. Except the man bit.”

“I think since we’re going to be partners you can call me Geri.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Geri? No, I think I’ll call you Geraldine.”

“Why? Only my father calls me Geraldine. No one else calls me Geraldine.”

“Except me. Now. Geraldine. I like the sound of it. It’s elegant.”

“Hardly. I always hated the name.”

“You shouldn’t. It suits you.”

“So what do I call you?” she asked.

“You can call me Thomas.”

“Not Tom?” she teased.

“If you expect me to answer, no.”

“You’re so frustrating.” Geri walked ahead of him. “I don’t need an escort to the hospital.”

She was hoping that he would take the hint and head back to the practice, only he didn’t. He kept pace with her.

“Go back to the practice, Mr. Ashwood.”

“I’m hurt. What happened to using our given names?”

“You became pedantic and annoyed me,” Geri said, but a smile hovered on her lips. She was enjoying herself immensely. Which was a bad thing.

“I’ve been called many things, annoying especially, but never pedantic. That’s a new one.”

Geri couldn’t help but laugh as they headed down to the underground at Regent’s Park Station. When they were on the tube, crammed close together as they rode in silence, Thomas glanced down at her.

“Why don’t you like Geraldine? It’s a lovely name,” he asked.

A hot flush crept up her cheeks. No one had ever called her name lovely before. She’d always hated it. Men would usually call her Geri. Geraldine was an old-fashioned name.

“I thought I’d name you Geraldine after your father’s mother since that’s the only thing you’ll be getting from him.”

Of course, Geri had never met her namesake.

“It’s an old-fashioned name.” It was an excuse. She did like her name, but preferred to be called Geri. When she’d learned Geraldine was a connection to her long-absent father who had never come to rescue her, she’d wanted to cut that tie.

She’d learned the hard way that she could rescue herself.

He shrugged. “So is Thomas, but I quite like it. Geri makes you sound like a singer in an all-girl pop band.”

She laughed. “Well, I like Geri.”

“And I like Geraldine. You’ll see it my way soon enough and you’ll be begging me to say your name over and over.” His voice was deep, like thick honey. Honey, which she pictured smearing over his body and licking off.

Blast.

“Are you propositioning me?”

He grinned, a smile that was dangerous and made her feel weak in the knees. “And if I was?”