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The Doctor's Runaway Fiancée
Cindy Kirk
A bolting bride!Sylvie Thorne doesn't believe in happily-ever-after. Tormented by a tumultuous childhood, the struggling baker's certain she did the right thing running from her perfect-as-a-prince Boston blueblood fiance, leaving not a glass slipper but a brief text behind. She just never expected him to follow her.Dr. Andrew O'Shea wants closure. To get it, he'll implement a plan. Three weeks with Sylvie in his Jackson Hole rental. Lots of togetherness, a little dialogue–and no sex. Twenty-one days to prove they're from two different worlds. Instead, one kiss shows him what they have in common–blazing chemistry that never died. Now Andrew's in trouble. Instead of laying the past to rest, he's thinking of the future–with his former fiancee.
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 …
The Doctor’s Runaway Fiancée
Cindy Kirk
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
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 (http://www.cindykirk.com).
To Patience Bloom, my wonderful editor, whose presence in my life has made it so much richer.
Contents
Cover (#ud75815d8-18cf-52fb-8755-8d1049bcda7c)
Introduction (#uf95f46ff-0e2d-5876-9c6c-fee376e4441c)
Title Page (#u3b7c0858-0b47-5662-b5ea-98a583766c65)
About the Author (#u8df5bede-839b-5294-98fb-31aec8a6d58e)
Dedication (#uf8e805ac-da05-571b-bd52-70526948b4c3)
Chapter One (#u29cd3255-4048-5d9f-b042-464faab7777f)
Chapter Two (#u627c39ee-5668-5977-9736-d7c3c3211a36)
Chapter Three (#u17e377d7-4104-5da3-8bda-a9fc58effa9d)
Chapter Four (#uad7afa9d-e5c8-56eb-b113-b066e581d642)
Chapter Five (#u3e360d76-f0e0-57b6-9214-e2936d384337)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_249ac8da-f083-5904-a9da-11b24b40fa4d)
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.
Sylvie’s breath froze. She brought a hand to her throat. Andrew.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage, then began to thud heavily. A roaring filled her ears. She told herself it couldn’t be him. Andrew O’Shea lived in Boston, two thousand miles away. Yet something about this man was all too familiar.
In their months together she’d often told Andrew that he wore wealth and privilege like most men wore a favorite coat. He’d laugh as if she’d made a joke.
While it was true he came from money and never had to do without, as a physician he’d been passionate about improving the lives of others. Working as a concierge doctor allowed him to practice medicine while still having time to dabble in the family business.
As she stared unblinking at the man, a wave of yearning washed over her. The sensation was so strong it brought tears to her eyes.
“Sylvie?”
Stifling a groan, she blinked back the tears before turning.
Josie Campbell, her closest friend and bride-to-be, touched Sylvie’s arm. “Is something wrong? You had the strangest expression on your face.”
Sylvie glanced down the street and discovered Andrew’s doppelgänger had vanished. She offered an easy smile. “For a second I thought I saw someone I knew.”
Josie followed the direction of her gaze. She was a pretty woman with honey-blond hair, clear green eyes and a diamond the size of Grand Teton on her left hand. “What does she look like?”
“He.” Sylvie waved a dismissive hand. “Tall with dark hair. I’m sure it wasn’t him.”
“Tall and dark, huh?” Josie brought a finger to her lips. “Would it be accurate to add handsome to that description?”
Andrew was indeed handsome. But he was in Massachusetts, not strolling the streets of Jackson.
“Handsome would be accurate. If we’re talking about your fiancé.” As a tall, broad-shouldered man headed straight for them, Sylvie’s words slid into a smile.
With Josie’s back to her fiancé, she didn’t see his approach.
“Noah is very handsome.” Josie’s lips curved. “I’m supposed to meet him at the church. We’re—”
Dr. Noah Anson stopped his future wife’s words by spinning her around. When her mouth opened in a surprised shriek, he kissed her soundly.
Josie’s arms wrapped around his neck and he gently stroked her back as the kiss ended. The look of love in Noah’s eyes took Sylvie’s breath away.
The yearning she’d experienced moments earlier returned with the force of a tsunami.
Expelling a happy sigh, Josie slanted a teasing glance at her future husband. “Before we were so rudely interrupted, I was saying Noah and I have an appointment with Pastor Johnson at the church. With the wedding less than a month away, there’s still a few loose ends we need to tie up.”
Noah kept an arm around Josie’s waist, gave Sylvie a nod. Then he inclined his head, two lines forming between his dark brows. His gaze narrowed. “There’s something different about you today.”
“It’s the hair.” Josie smiled her approval. “With all our talk about hot guys, I forgot to say how much I love, love, love the cut. And the color is simply fabulous. Cassidy, I presume?”
Sylvie fingered one of the short silky strands. “Who else?”
The Clippety Do Dah Salon might have a cutesy name, but Cassidy Duggan produced sophisticated results.
“Looks good on you.” Noah paused, the words Josie had uttered moments earlier appearing to finally register. “What hot guys?”
“Why, you, of course, darling.” Josie rose on tiptoes to brush a light kiss across his lips. “And some guy Sylvie spotted that she knew.”
“On first glance he looked familiar,” Sylvie clarified. She waved a dismissive hand. “It wasn’t him.”
It couldn’t be Andrew. There was no reason for him to be here.
Still, an uneasy feeling settled over her shoulders and Sylvie found herself scanning for the once-familiar face all the way to her shop.
* * *
Later that day, Dr. Andrew O’Shea wandered into Hill of Beans in downtown Jackson and ordered a coffee. He took the cup of the Ethiopian blend to a table by the window.
