Cindy Kirk - The Doctor's Runaway Fiancée

All she had to do was give him back the ring.

Then he’d say goodbye and leave. Everyone had known they were wrong for each other. Everyone but Andrew. Now it seemed he finally figured it out. “It appears we’re ready to close the door on the past.”

“It might feel that way to you, Sylvie. The problem is, I still want you. I believe more drastic measures are needed.” He stepped closer.

Her heart thudded. “What kind of measures do you have in mind?”

“Immersion therapy,” he said. “I will immerse myself in your life. I obviously didn’t know you before. What better way to get you out of my system than to become acquainted with the real you?”

“How long will that take? A couple of days—”

“I’m here for three weeks.”

Given their history, that seemed little enough to ask. So why did her pulse quicken at the thought? “I think it’s best if we keep physical intimacy to a minimum.” She crossed the room to put space between them, but he followed her.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “I’ll help you pack.”

“Where am I going?”

He gave her a sexy smile. “You’re moving in with me.”

* * *

Rx for Love:Just following doctor’s orders …

www.millsandboon.co.uk

From the time she was a little girl, CINDY KIRKthought everyone made up different endings to books, movies and television shows. Instead of counting sheep at night, she made up stories. She’s now had over forty novels published. She enjoys writing emotionally satisfying stories with a little faith and humour tossed in. She encourages readers to connect with her on Facebook and Twitter, @cindykirkauthor, and via her website, www.cindykirk.com.

To Patience Bloom, my wonderful editor, whose presence in my life has made it so much richer.

Contents

Cover

Introduction All she had to do was give him back the ring. Then he’d say goodbye and leave. Everyone had known they were wrong for each other. Everyone but Andrew. Now it seemed he finally figured it out. “It appears we’re ready to close the door on the past.” “It might feel that way to you, Sylvie. The problem is, I still want you. I believe more drastic measures are needed.” He stepped closer. Her heart thudded. “What kind of measures do you have in mind?” “Immersion therapy,” he said. “I will immerse myself in your life. I obviously didn’t know you before. What better way to get you out of my system than to become acquainted with the real you?” “How long will that take? A couple of days—” “I’m here for three weeks.” Given their history, that seemed little enough to ask. So why did her pulse quicken at the thought? “I think it’s best if we keep physical intimacy to a minimum.” She crossed the room to put space between them, but he followed her. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “I’ll help you pack.” “Where am I going?” He gave her a sexy smile. “You’re moving in with me.” * * * Rx for Love: Just following doctor’s orders …

Title Page The Doctor’s Runaway Fiancée Cindy Kirk www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author From the time she was a little girl, CINDY KIRK thought everyone made up different endings to books, movies and television shows. Instead of counting sheep at night, she made up stories. She’s now had over forty novels published. She enjoys writing emotionally satisfying stories with a little faith and humour tossed in. She encourages readers to connect with her on Facebook and Twitter, @cindykirkauthor, and via her website, www.cindykirk.com .

Dedication To Patience Bloom, my wonderful editor, whose presence in my life has made it so much richer.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Sylvie Thorne gazed into the beauty-shop mirror and forced herself to breathe. Seven seconds in, then out for eleven. Almost immediately, the panic ebbed.

Two hours earlier she’d given Cassidy Duggan, owner of the Clippety Do Dah Salon, free rein to cut and color her hair. While Cassidy was as nontraditional with hair as Sylvie was in cake designs, there was no better stylist in Jackson Hole.

“What do you think?” Cassidy fussed with a stray strand of hair and smiled expectantly.

“I look...different.” An understatement to be sure, but the best Sylvie could muster.

As she continued to study the unfamiliar reflection, Sylvie reminded herself she was the one who’d asked for a change. She’d grown bored with the hairstyle she’d had since high school. The upcoming wedding of a friend had been the gentle shove she’d needed to try something different.

Two hours ago she’d walked in with wavy copper-colored hair hanging in loose curls halfway down her back and put herself in Cassidy’s experienced hands.

“Sleek and sophisticated.” Daffodil Prentiss, the hairstylist from the next booth, punctuated her proclamation with an approving nod.

Sleek and sophisticated.

While those two words were rarely tossed in her direction, Sylvie cocked her head and opened her mind. “I like it.”

The waves had been straightened and the blunt cut hair now barely reached her shoulders. The muted copper strands, while still the predominant color, had been replaced at the ends by several inches of soft honey blond.

“Are you sure?” Cassidy asked, apparently troubled by her less-than-enthusiastic response. “If you don’t like it, I can—”

“Exactly what I wanted.” Sylvie spoke more decisively this time. “And the change I was looking for.”

“I didn’t want to go too crazy.” Cassidy tapped a finger against her bright red lips. “If you get home and decide this isn’t enough of a change, we could try some cerulean blue. I think the color would make those violet eyes of yours really pop.”

“No blue needed.” Sylvie spoke quickly. “This is perfect.”

Because of the nontraditional bakery products produced in her Mad Batter kitchen and the boho-chic styles she preferred to wear, Sylvie was aware many saw her as “quirky.”

Now, at least according to Daffodil, she looked sleek and sophisticated. Who’d have thought that was even possible?

“Stellar job,” Sylvie assured Cassidy. She rose from the salon chair and gave the stylist a hug.

While Cassidy ran her credit card, Sylvie chatted with Daffodil. After adding a generous tip, she stepped out into the bright summer day and let the sunshine warm her face.

She ran her fingers through her hair, gave her head a toss, feeling suddenly light and carefree. It was as if she’d shed the weight of the past along with her hair.

As early September was still too early for skiers to begin their descent on Jackson Hole, the downtown foot traffic was relatively light. Sylvie found herself glancing down the walkway, looking for someone she knew, eager to show off her new do.

Hair and friends were quickly forgotten when her gaze settled on a dark-haired man at the end of the block. She studied his profile as he read the menu posted in the window of the Coffee Pot Café.