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“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The breathless voice rushing toward him brought the gavel down on his thoughts.
Tightening his hold on the attaché case he carried, he turned to look at her. The fact that the first place his gaze parked was her lips, looking for any signs that she’d been kissed recently, irritated him. He focused on what time it was instead. “I see some things never change.”
That soft mouth he’d been staring at tightened in warning. “I had a patient.”
Damn. She was a doctor. Why had the possibility she’d gotten delayed due to a case never crossed his mind?
Maybe for the same reason that he saw coy glances passing between them in those pictures.
And she was only six minutes late. It only felt like he’d been waiting for her forever.
Hell, he remembered thinking almost those exact same words at their first meeting. The one where she’d called him a toad.
Unfortunately for Mila, he’d never really perfected the transformation into a prince. And she’d discovered far too late that she should have bypassed kissing him altogether.
Except he hadn’t given her much of a choice, insisting that she dance with him.
Forcing himself to come back to the present, he motioned toward the door. “They’re holding our table for us. Shall we?”
Mila glanced at the sign, and then the hand-carved door, her teeth catching her lower lip.
Had she been here before?
Not likely. This wasn’t the kind of place the Mila he’d known would have frequented. So why had he brought her here?
The hostess guided them through the front part of the fancy establishment, and James tensed as his glance trailed over Mila’s formfitting dress and the staccato twitch of her hips as she followed the woman. She didn’t generally like dressing up, and when she’d heard the name of the restaurant there’d been a long pause over the phone before she’d finally accepted the invitation.
Now that they were here, he realized he should have made sure the restaurant knew this was a business dinner and nothing more—because the employee was taking them back to the table he was normally seated at when he dined here: a secluded spot in the very corner, away from prying eyes...and cameras.
He probably should have chosen a different place to eat. But they knew him here and it was generally easier to get a last-minute reservation than at the places where celebrities normally hung out. There were some of those at Très Magnifique as well, but the dim lighting, specially coated glass and tight security made it hard for the paparazzi to gain access to its patrons. Another reason why this was one of his go-to restaurants.
The distaste of having his face splashed across the tabloids was a holdover from his childhood, when his parents’ every move had made the front pages. James had seen his own mistakes—including his broken engagement—paraded for all the world to see. Because of that, he’d become adept at avoiding the places those kinds of photographers frequented.
Mila slid into her seat, setting her small clutch purse on a corner of the table. “I assume you have them with you.”
He had to smile at the way she lowered her voice, since it mirrored some of his own thoughts. Leaning forward, he mimicked her hushed tones.
“Yes. I have them. They’re in my briefcase. But I think you went into the wrong line of work, Mi.”
“Come again?”
“You should have been a spy.”
Her lips went up as well. “Am I being too paranoid about this whole thing?”
A possible reason for her behavior slid up from somewhere inside him. He didn’t know if she’d started seeing someone else since breaking up with Tyler, but it was a possibility. Or maybe they’d even gotten back together. “Will this be a problem for your boyfriend? I’d be happy to call him and explain, if you’d like.” Although the last thing he wanted to do was call Mila’s boyfriend and tell him this meeting was purely platonic.
Not when the last thing he wanted it to be was platonic.
Not with her sitting across from him in a dark green dress that hugged her form and showed just a touch of creamy curves at the neckline. Curves he’d once explored at his leisure. He forced his eyes back to her face, noting she was biting her lip again.
What the hell? Had she gone and gotten engaged or something? His stomach sank like a rock.
“No. You don’t need to explain anything.”
Because this guy, unlike him, would need no explanation as to why Mila was dining with her ex-fiancé? If she were still his, he sure as hell would have wanted to know why she was having dinner with another man. Especially since she was a physician and not a CEO, which meant there was no need to dine with clients.
“He must trust you.” He forced the words to sound impartial.
“It’s not that.” She toyed with the clasp of her purse for a second or two. “I’m not seeing anyone. I told you I’d broken up with Tyler.”
She had told him. But people changed their minds.
James stared at her for some clue as to what might have gone wrong between them.
“It was me,” she continued. “This time.”
Said as if she needed him to know that James wasn’t the only one capable of backing out of an unwanted relationship.
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry for the way he’d treated her? Or that his past actions might be affecting the way she navigated current-day relationships?
“Don’t be. I don’t believe in stringing someone along when I know how the story is going to end.”
The barb sank deep. Because that’s exactly what he had done to Mila. Strung her along, even when he’d known that he was eventually going to break things off. Both because of Cindy and the bombshell she’d dropped, and because of his own father’s response to it. He couldn’t follow in the award-winning actor and egotistical bastard’s footsteps. He would not father a child that he would be no good at nurturing. Or throw money at the mother of that child to make the whole thing go away. So James had done neither, deciding to break it off with Mila and do the right thing by Cindy. Only it had all been a lie.
Mila’s dreamy words the last time they’d slept together about starting a family had hit him at the worst possible moment. Their courtship had been such a whirlwind affair that children had never been discussed. And then Cindy had dropped her bombshell and almost immediately afterward Mila had wistfully expressed her own desire for children.
His reaction had confirmed what he’d believed about himself all along: that he truly was like his celebrity parents, who had left him and Freya to the mercy of a string of nannies. He was no nurturer.
Even his attempts at standing in for his parents when it came to his sister had ended in disaster. He’d been overbearing and overprotective. In some ways he blamed himself for the eating disorder Freya had developed, wondering if it was because he’d been too controlling about what she did...who she went out with. He sure hadn’t practiced what he’d preached back then, because he’d gone out with scads of women who’d meant nothing to him. Including Cindy.
Hell, he’d been the worst possible role model for her.
His regrets over his mistakes with Freya and the scare of that unplanned pregnancy with Cindy had given him a fear of having children of his own. It had gotten so bad that he had stopped treating children in his medical practice, referring them instead to colleagues. Which had left him treating insipid socialites and celebrities. People very much like his parents—a peck on each cheek, a little nip, a little tuck, and they were good to go.
Only he’d grown tired of it all. Weary in a way that he didn’t understand.
“Drinks, sir?”
He blinked back to the present as the server handed them each a menu.
Maybe Mila had been lost in her own thoughts as well because she wasn’t staring at him like he had two heads. He waited as she asked for a glass of wine, and then he did the same, adding an order of stuffed mushrooms—something he remembered her loving. Although why he felt the need to do anything other than toss the pictures across the table and eat a quick bite was beyond him. Except he probably wasn’t going to get to sit across a table from Mila Brightman ever again. And maybe a part of him wanted to relive the days he’d left behind. Now that he knew she didn’t have someone waiting at home for her, that urge had grown stronger.
The server left to get their drinks, and Mila propped her elbows on the table, staring at him. “So how does this work, exactly?”
He frowned. Had she read his thoughts? The idea of taking up where they’d left off flashed through his head. Somehow he doubted that’s what she meant.
“How does what work?”
“The pictures. Do you want me to look through them before we eat? Or after we’re done? Just how bad are they that we’re even sitting here?”
Ah...so she had realized something was up when he’d asked her out to dinner. “They’re not bad. I just...”
He hadn’t expected to have to explain his reasoning. He tried again. “I just thought we should go through them without an audience. That might be hard at the clinic or even at Bright Hope.”
Especially with a few of the more intimate shots. And Morgan had seemed to be quite adept at catching them at just the wrong moment. A woman scorned who was doing her best to embarrass him? Or was it inevitable that he would see the pictures through a different filter than other people?
Mila’s lips curved. “Did she catch you crawling under that desk or something? I can see how you might want to hide that particular shot.”
He laughed. “I take it the view wasn’t all that flattering from where you were standing.”
“Let’s just say it was interesting.”
Interesting.
He couldn’t be sure with the low lighting in the restaurant, but he thought maybe a bit of color had seeped into her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but follow this trail just a little further. Especially since he could picture several office desk scenarios he wouldn’t have minded exploring once upon a time. “Interesting good? Or interesting bad?”
“I think the photographer thought it was good, that’s for sure.”
Had Mila noticed the other woman’s interest? He thought he’d made it pretty clear that she was there on a professional basis only. He hadn’t been interested.
“And you. What did you think?” Okay, so this was pursuing it a little too far.
“I think maybe we should stick to the subject at hand.”
Not exactly a denial. More like an evasion. Which meant maybe he wasn’t the only one who was struggling to keep their old relationship where it belonged: firmly in the past. But he’d better make more of an effort, or he was going to find himself in a very uncomfortable place.
“Fair enough. Why don’t we sort through them now, then?”
* * *
Mila swallowed as she shuffled through the sheaf of glossy photos that James had brought out of his leather attaché case. Now she saw why he’d wanted to bring her to a place where the tables were private and the lights were low.
Even with the dim lighting in the restaurant these shots made something in her belly come to life. These were not the kind of publicity pictures one wanted for the grand opening of a charity clinic. At least, not some of them.
One of the photos in front of the mural did more than light a fire in her gut. It made her face heat. Because she and James were gazing at each other, and while she couldn’t exactly read his expression, hers was filled with dread—with a side order of longing. A longing that had made one of her hands stretch toward him a bit? Coaxing him to move closer to her like Morgan had asked? Lord, she hoped not.
Maybe she was simply gesturing toward something in the mural. But she didn’t think so.
She flipped through a couple more, and then paused once again. James was watching her as she said something to Avery, a slight smile on his face, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress slacks. He looked so endearingly at ease that it made her chest ache. It was as if she’d been sucked through a time warp and was looking through a window to the past.
Their past.
She could remember glancing toward him and catching him with this exact same expression. As if he loved watching her go about life.
Swallowing, she looked up at him. “Is there anything in here that can be salvaged?”
She had no idea if there was a software program invented that could change these pictures into something they weren’t. And it made her feel a little queasy that the emotions she felt on the inside were so very visible on the outside. At least in these shots.
But then again, hadn’t Morgan caught James off guard in them as well?
“Some of them aren’t as bad. But I wanted us to decide that together.”
“I can see why.”
Their server returned with their appetizers and wine. Mila handed the photos back to James for safekeeping. Or was it simply so she didn’t have to look at them anymore this evening? She had a thought. “Maybe you can come to Bright Hope once we finish up here and we can spread them out on the reception desk.”
“That sounds like a plan. Speaking of Bright Hope, did you get the glass in that window replaced?”
“Yes, someone came the day after your visit. It’s as good as new.”
“No other attempted break-ins?”
She paused in cutting one of her mushrooms. “It was just an accident. The police seem to think so as well.”
Was it her imagination, or had James just relaxed in his seat? Maybe. She knew how relieved she’d been when the officers had said it looked like a rock kicked up by a car or something. There had been construction on that street not so very long ago.
Popping the morsel into her mouth and chewing, she studied the changes in James over the past six years. His hair seemed even more golden than it had before. From spending time in the California sun?
He’d once been an avid sailor, his sleek schooner making the trek back and forth to Catalina Island every chance he’d had. Hours on his boat would explain his deep tan. And she loved the way the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were lighter than the surrounding skin, as if he smiled more while out on the water than he did at other times. He had when they’d been together, anyway.
She swallowed, trying to nip her speculations in the bud. It was none of her business what he did or didn’t do. Not anymore.
“What are you thinking about?”
Time to scramble. She didn’t dare stray too far from the truth, because he’d read it in her face if she told him a complete lie. “Do you still go out on the water?”
One side of his mouth twisted into a half smile. “Every chance I get.”
“On the Mystic Waters?”
His smile slid away this time. “Yes, I still have her. I can’t imagine giving her up for anything.”
Unlike Mila, who he’d been able to give up with a snap of his fingers. It stung to know that his boat had been with him longer than she had. Since they’d actually spent quite a bit of time on the schooner during their romance, the images it brought up were unbearably intimate. For all her discomfort about displays of wealth, the boat was one place she’d felt at home. Maybe because James had gone to great lengths to put her at ease.
It normally took four hours to sail from Los Angeles to the port of Avalon on the island of Catalina, but it had often taken them even longer, because James would stop every time she’d squealed in delight over some new sight, whether it had been porpoises trying to catch a ride on the boat’s wake, or something else. And when he’d taken her below...
Her eyes shut for a second or two before reopening and finding him watching her.
He knew. Knew exactly what she was picturing. Damn him!
“The boats I spent my time on were a little different from your schooner.”
“Rubbing my nose in the fact that you’ve given back more to humanity than I have?”
No. She wasn’t. And she had no idea why she’d spouted off like some self-righteous prig. Maybe because it still hurt to know how easily he could toss her aside.
