Amalie Berlin - Uncovering Her Secrets

He didn’t even blink when he saw her, but the pale blue eyes that had always mesmerized her looked tired. And cold. And every inch as devastating as they had always been.

“Hardin.”

His mouth firmed and black brows drew together—more a look of resolve than the scowl she’d expected.

“I was hoping to put off running into you, but we might as well get it over with.” He stepped through the door.

“You’re meeting me,” Dasha blurted out. “Our head is on hiatus. I’m acting head.”

“Am I here on your recommendation?”

He might not be angry, but he certainly wasn’t happy either. Not forgiven—not that she expected to be. She had done nothing to deserve it. Yet.

“Dr. Saunders recommended you to the board.” At her request. She left that part out.

“You’re who I’ll be working with if I stick around now?”

He kept eye contact, and it was all Dasha could do not to look away.

“Yes.”

After work she was so going to need to spend some time with Ben & Jerry. And maybe Jack Daniel’s too.

Dear Reader

One of the most romantic and beautiful places I’ve ever been is the Opryland Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee. Between the conservatories, the miles of opulent corridors with low lighting, the nightly dazzling fountain shows and the Gone-with-the-Wind-like staircase, it’s one of the best places to go if you want to actually get to know the person you’re with. Romantic and massive, it still manages to provide a feeling of seclusion … and an abundance of little private places to steal a kiss.

And it’s never more magical than during the autumn, when every corner is lit up and decorated for the holiday season. When I decided where Dasha and Preston would reside, the when was a no-brainer. I’m happy to share a little bit of this place I love, and if you ever get the chance … visit Opryland in the fall.

Amalie

There’s never been a day when there haven’t been stories in AMALIE BERLIN’s head. When she was a child they were called daydreams, and she was supposed to stop having them and pay attention. Now when someone interrupts her daydreams to ask, ‘What are you doing?’ she delights in answering, ‘I’m working!’

Amalie lives in Southern Ohio with her family and a passel of critters. When not working, she reads, watches movies, geeks out over documentaries, and randomly decides to learn antiquated skills. In case of a zombie apocalypse she’ll still have bread, lacy underthings, granulated sugar, and always something new to read.

Also by Amalie Berlin:

CRAVING HER ROUGH DIAMOND DOC

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Suzanne Clarke, for seeing something sparkly and worth polishing in my writing, and for all her wonderful advice, patience and assistance with breaking away the rest of the lumpy coal bits.

To the best critique partners and writing pals a girl can have: The Ginger Ninja (Michelle Smart), The Sassy Scot (Aimée Duffy), and—as I write this—The Lovely Birthday Girl (Catherine Coles).

And finally to my husband, for his love and support, for always challenging me and keeping me on my toes, and for proving how sexy a sense of humour can be in a man.:)

‘A sexy, sensual, romantic, heart-warming and purely emotional romantic bliss-filled read. I very much look forward to this author’s next book, and being transported to a world of pure romance brilliance!’

—Goodreads.com on CRAVING HER ROUGH DIAMOND DOC

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

HOW COULD A woman be so afraid of a situation of her own making?

Dr. Dasha Hardin stood before the bank of windows in her temporary office, waiting, eyes fixed on the parking lot where she expected Dr. Preston Monroe would park. She did her best to ignore the lump of lead in her belly that had been oatmeal an hour ago. Being the instigator of this meeting didn’t mean she had any control over what was to come, and if he put even half the effort into sabotaging her career as he had done his own, she might as well clean out her locker now. The man couldn’t control his mouth, and if he told what he knew about her past...

When the lead shifted and wobbled around her insides, she gave up her vigil for the physical embodiment of her biggest regret. Waiting for him, watching out windows for someone to come was too gut-wrenchingly familiar. She’d spent too much of her life waiting on someone to come, lost too many hours. This one would come. Probably.

She prowled away from the window and set about tidying the already immaculate space. If he had found out his morning meeting was with her—that she was the acting head of surgery for St. Vincent’s—he might not show up. That was a nice thought.

Fleetingly.

If he came now, that was the better option, otherwise she’d just have to chase him down. She had to try and fix this. She’d promised Marjorie.

She uncrossed her arms and shook her hands out. When had she gone back to the window? Jeez. Calm down, exercise a little self-control. If he came she had to keep the situation civil and professional, and that couldn’t happen if her emotions ran amok.

This was her hospital. Everyone loved and respected her. They wouldn’t stop her just because Preston hated her.

Even if he told them what she’d done.

Probably.

A light knock came at the door, more of a warning that it was opening than a request. She caught his reflection in the window. The oatmeal-lead flipped over, but it took her a couple seconds to make her body turn around.

No matter how she tried to will herself to be calm, her heart continued to square dance against her sternum.

Her eyes directly on him hit harder than the reflection. Five years hadn’t aged him so much as refined him. Not a trace of boyishness remained in his face. Preston had his man face and, heaven help her, it was glorious. Broad. Cut jaw. Cheeks darkened with stubble despite being freshly shaved.

He didn’t even blink when he saw her, but the pale blue eyes that had always mesmerized her looked tired. And cold. And every inch as devastating as they had always been. Having no apparent reaction made it seem like he wasn’t angry at least, even though he focused on her with a strength that left her feeling skewered.

“Hardin.” His mouth firmed and black brows drew together, more a look of resolve than the scowl she’d expected. “I was hoping to put off running into you, but we might as well get it over with.” He stepped through the door.

Did he show anger before detonating these days? A brilliant surgeon he may be, but mercurial. His moods had always been a crapshoot, even before she’d painted a blood-red target on her back.

She should speak. The speech. She’d had a speech prepared, back before fear had eaten it. “You’re meeting me,” Dasha blurted out. “Our head is on hiatus. I’m Acting Head.”