Annie O'Neil - London's Most Eligible Doctor

“Yes. Perfect. See you then.”

Lina bent to give Igor a little scratch on the head. “Dobranoc kochanie, Igor. Tu jest nic!”

“What’s that?”

Sweet nothings for the pooch? Or something about their near miss in the kissing department? He scrubbed his hand along his chin. Terrific. Now paranoia had set in. His former receptionist had better be having one hell of an elopement!

“Nothing.” She tightened her coat round her slim frame and gave him a cursory farewell wave. “See you in the morning.”

“You bet. With bells on!”

She didn’t turn around. Which was for the best.

With bells on?

This wasn’t going to just be a trial period. It was going to be a trial by fire. And Cole knew he’d be the one racing across the burning coals.

It was cold enough in the flat that Lina wasn’t going to risk taking her hand out from underneath the downy duvet to give herself a good old conk on the head. What had she been thinking? Accepting the job at En Pointe? Pure unadulterated crazy.

She’d heard Cole worked miracles with his patients—but getting her to break her months-long hibernation? He hadn’t pushed her, but there was definitely a won’t-take-no aura about him. If she believed in that sort of thing. From what she’d gathered—and it wasn’t that much—he was more of a take-it-or-leave-it type. He’d seen and done a lot in his lifetime. It was impressive. And he hadn’t got where he was from sitting in his flat, moping. The train he was driving? It was ready to leave the station. If you wanted to be on the Manning Express, jump on fast!

So she’d jumped.

It was a matter of necessity after all. But that didn’t stop her stomach from churning. Or the odd butterfly from taking a teasing swoop and whoosh around her tummy.

The tick-tick of the clock suddenly seemed louder than Big Ben’s bongs.

In a matter of hours she was going from seeing no one but the postman—or his hand, at least—to answering the phone and sitting on Reception at Britain’s finest dance injury clinic.

She chanced sticking a finger out of the duvet to give her cold nose a scratch. Once she got her first paycheck she could get the heat turned back on. Oh, to be warm! She scrunched her eyes tightly against the streetlight conveniently beaming directly into her bedroom and let herself—just for a moment—picture summertime in her childhood village. There might not have been much money coming into the homes there but it was undoubtedly a rural idyll. Vast wildflower meadows sprawling up into the foothills of the mountains. Snow-capped peaks diminishing with the heat of the summer sun. A broad river teeming with shoals of fish and a seemingly endless array of birds. Maybe when his leg healed, she, Cole and Igor could find a park somewhere …

Maybe she, Cole and Igor nothing.

It was work. A job. They were not a magic trio. Cole was her boss. Igor was a—a patient? And she was going to answer the telephone. That was it. Working at En Pointe was a way to pay the rent and dig herself out of this ridiculous hole of unpaid bills she’d gotten herself into. Then, maybe, she could think about what to do next. There was no point in getting attached to anything because one thing life had taught her for certain was that nothing lasted forever.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, Lina couldn’t help a smile from tugging at her lips—or stop the small burst of pride she felt for having said yes to the job. It was a baby step. But it was a step. Her smile broadened as an image of Cole leaning against his office desk flitted across her mind’s eye. He looked all casual, relaxed and in control at the same time. Someone who was comfortable in his skin. Maybe he was a miracle worker. For the first time in a long time, apart from feeling scared out of her wits, she felt—just a teensy tiny bit—as if she just might be looking forward to a brand-new day.

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