Renee Ryan - Claiming the Doctor's Heart

After ten years of school and work and clawing her way up the corporate ladder, she was back where she started. A little shattered, a bit heartbroken, but not beaten.

In no particular hurry now, Olivia let the dog take the lead. He sniffed a tree, paid avid attention to several bushes, all the while tugging her in the direction of a bubbling, three-tiered fountain at the center of Hawkins Park, named after the town’s founder, Jonathan Hawkins.

Seemingly tuckered out by the time they arrived at the marble monstrosity, Baloo settled at her feet, then shut his eyes and set in for a short nap.

Olivia was about to sit on the fountain’s ledge when a puppy shot past her at lightning speed. The furry missile crested a small hill to her right, spun around, then sped back toward her.

Two young girls wearing matching white shorts and red T-shirts raced after him. “Samson, stop right now,” one of them yelled while the other girl shouted, “Come back here.”

Ears flat against his head, stubby legs pumping hard, Samson darted right, then left, then right again. In their haste to catch him, the girls tumbled over one another, landing in a heap. “Samsoooooooon.”

Ignoring the call, the animal whizzed past the pile of tangled arms and legs, his bubblegum-pink tongue flapping in the wind.

Before Olivia could grab him, the puppy took a flying leap. He cleared the fountain’s ledge and splashed down with a belly-busting splat.

He sank to the bottom like a stone.

Weren’t dogs supposed to be able to swim?

With the girls’ panicked shrieks in her ears, Olivia scooped the puppy out of the water. He came up wriggling and twisting, little legs running in the air.

“Calm down,” she ordered.

Samson continued his antics, jetting water in every direction, including across the front of Olivia’s shirt.

Laughing despite the impromptu bath, she held on tight and studied the animal through narrowed eyes. Seriously cute, she decided as she took in the plump belly, short tawny fur and adorable black face.

When he stopped thrashing she put him on the grass. Mindful of his earlier behavior, she kept her hands on his back, poised to snatch him up again if he attempted an escape.

He shook off the excess water, and immediately instigated a wrestling match with Baloo. The good-natured dog obliged the little troublemaker by rolling onto his back so Samson could climb up.

Olivia shifted her attention to the two young girls skidding to a stop beside her. By their height and size, she guessed their age to be somewhere around eight or nine years old. Nearly the same age as her ex-boyfriend’s daughter, Kenzie. The thought brought such pain Olivia had to close her eyes until the moment passed.

“You saved Samson,” one of the two sobbed.

Tears wavered in the other girl’s eyes. “We were so worried we wouldn’t catch him. He got away really fast.”

Even without the identical clothing, Olivia pegged them for twins. They had the same long, pale blond hair, pretty features and arresting golden-brown eyes.

Something about those eyes sparked a memory, one that shimmered just out of reach.

Olivia glanced around. Where were their parents? The girls were too young to be in the park alone. She plucked the puppy off Baloo and held him out. “Looking for this?”

“Oh, thank you.” Blinking away her tears, the girl on Olivia’s left took the dog, uncaring he was still wet. Now that the puppy was no longer harassing him, Baloo rolled back to his stomach and continued his nap.

“You look familiar.” The girl holding the puppy angled her head. “Do we know you?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve only just—”

“Megan, Molly,” a deep, masculine voice rang out from the hilltop behind the girls. There was a note of concern in the rich baritone, one Olivia hoped she alleviated with a brief wave of her hand.

His steps quickened, eating up the ground in long, sure strides. A thousand thoughts collided together in her mind. She knew that purposeful walk, that handsome face, that wind-tousled hair the color of sandy, Florida beaches.

Connor Mitchell. Dressed in cargo shorts and a faded blue T-shirt.

What was her brother’s partner in their family medical practice doing here, in the middle of a workday?

Olivia’s gaze met Connor’s across the lawn, and she immediately recognized the similarity with the two girls standing beside her, especially around the eyes. Even with his worried gaze, that was one good-looking man heading her way, as athletic and self-assured as she remembered.

Connor had been her brother’s best friend since before she could remember. He’d always been confident, kind and so blissfully unaware of his masculine appeal. During high school, Olivia had found herself weaving secret teenage dreams, with him playing the starring role.

That had been a very long time ago.

Yet memories took hold of her. Stupid, girlish hopes and dreams for a boy far too old for her—a full five years—who hadn’t noticed she was alive. He’d been too stuck on his childhood sweetheart, a woman he’d married right out of college. Shelly, Sheila, something like that. She’d died several years ago, leaving Connor a widower. And—as evidenced by the two girls standing beside her with those same striking Mitchell eyes—a single dad.

* * *

Relieved to find his daughters safe and the puppy no longer running loose, Connor let out an audible whoosh of air. The girls had darted away so fast he’d lost sight of them for a few terrifying minutes. Anything could have happened in that amount of time. The possibilities made him shudder.

Thankfully, nothing bad had occurred.

No doubt the woman standing beside the twins had played a large part in that. Gratitude nearly had him stumbling over his own feet.

He locked his gaze with hers and felt the blow of shocked recognition like a punch to his gut. His feet ground to a halt far too close to her. He took a step back. “Olivia?”

“Hello, Connor.” She gave him a slow, tentative smile that was a little shaky around the edges and yet devastatingly pretty. Ethan’s baby sister was all grown up.

“Hello, Olivia.” His voice sounded rusty and slightly stunned.

Who could blame him for his reaction? He had no way of knowing the shy, awkward teenager would become a woman of extraordinary beauty. How could he have known?

Olivia hadn’t come home since taking a job in... Connor couldn’t remember where. Somewhere in the South, he thought, but the specific location escaped him. It was possible Ethan had never told him. His medical partner was a man of few words.

Therein lay the problem. If Ethan had told Connor more about his sister, he would have been better prepared. Instead, he was stuck staring, struggling to reconcile his memory of the girl Olivia had been and the woman she’d become.

Little Olivia Scott had become a very attractive woman. The doll-like features had matured considerably. Her thick, mahogany hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders now.

A snarl of multilayered, complicated emotions surfaced, urging Connor to turn around and forget he ever ran into her today.

“Daddy?” Megan moved to him, tugged on his hand. “You know this lady?”

Connor shook himself free of Olivia’s gaze and focused on his daughter. Sometimes it hurt to look at either of the twins. Both girls resembled Sheila. They had her same small build, delicate features and light blond hair.

Their eyes, however, were all his. Mitchell eyes, a trait that had been passed down through several generations. Or so his mother always said.

That wasn’t the point.

What was the point?

“This is Olivia,” he said at last, glancing back at her. “Miss Olivia Scott.”