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Tempted By Dr Patera
Tina Beckett


He’s got right under her skin…But will she end up getting burned?In this Hot Greek Docs story, after losing her fiancé, Dr Lea Risi doesn’t do complicated. But, helping after an earthquake, she’s thrown together with Dr Deakin Patera—in all his sexy, rugged glory! Scarred inside and out, Deakin’s everything she tries to avoid…but Lea’s still tempted. As their chemistry becomes something deeper, can she help him leave the past behind?







He’s gotten right under her skin...

But will she end up getting burned?

In this Hot Greek Docs story, since losing her fiancé, Dr. Lea Risi doesn’t do complicated. But helping after an earthquake, Lea’s thrown together with Dr. Deakin Patera in all his sexy, rugged glory! Scarred inside and out, Deakin’s everything Lea’s tried to avoid—but she’s still tempted. As their chemistry becomes something deeper, can Lea help him leave the past behind?


Three-time Golden Heart® finalist TINA BECKETT learned to pack her suitcases almost before she learned to read. Born to a military family, she has lived in the United States, Puerto Rico, Portugal and Brazil. In addition to travelling, Tina loves to cuddle with her pug, Alex, spend time with her family, and hit the trails on her horse. Learn more about Tina from her website, or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.


Also by Tina Beckett (#u2acbfd66-aaf0-5b4f-a800-9c34d1112db9)

Rafael’s One Night Bombshell

The Doctors’ Baby Miracle

Hot Brazilian Docs! miniseries

To Play with Fire

The Dangers of Dating Dr Carvalho

The Doctor’s Forbidden Temptation

From Passion to Pregnancy

Hot Greek Docs collection

One Night with Dr Nikolaides by Annie O’Neil Tempted by Dr Patera

And look out for the next two books

Back in Dr Xenakis’ Arms by Amalie Berlin A Date with Dr Moustakas by Amy Ruttan Available July 2018

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Tempted by Dr Patera

Tina Beckett






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07514-5

TEMPTED BY DR PATERA

© 2018 Tina Beckett

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my family.

You are my home.


Contents

Cover (#u3b8a5ee9-a85b-58c6-ab40-00eb0c70721b)

Back Cover Text (#u20f41fbd-caf7-50c2-bf7e-0b4f39c486fb)

About the Author (#uef64f247-85de-5990-853d-f8457d0cd2f4)

Booklist (#ua134a42b-da89-55b6-b2db-7b41e3d80a90)

Title Page (#ub3b960cf-a2c3-509d-9874-f0d91f591417)

Copyright (#udb91e506-5ab8-5c97-8d17-16117855b209)

Dedication (#uf53da623-3028-5b67-95eb-a43e5ff11e51)

PROLOGUE (#uccecd4e4-7c66-550b-87fb-7517297dc69f)

CHAPTER ONE (#ued1a1a85-6ebb-544e-a037-e043649f41b8)

CHAPTER TWO (#ufb721ae3-442e-52ae-9b7d-7900696f0498)

CHAPTER THREE (#u8b9b4ca7-1710-50d0-a824-864c48cbc9fb)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE (#u2acbfd66-aaf0-5b4f-a800-9c34d1112db9)

THE IMAGES FLASHING across the television screen were...horrific.

Deakin Patera’s gut became a tight ball of fear as he strained to make out the words. He couldn’t hear the newscaster’s voice over the noise in the bar, but he knew that landscape—that shoreline—by heart. And the text crawling along the bottom of the screen told snippets of the story: Eight point one earthquake rocks Greek island. Hundreds injured. Death toll not yet available. A few still missing.

Who?

Hell! Who?

Pulling out his phone, he checked for text messages. He had one from his aunt.

Safe for now. Will advise about aftershocks. No damage on the house, thank God. Where are you?

No damage on the house. Unlike that other time. His palm scrubbed over the rough skin on the side of his neck, even though that particular damage had faded long ago.

He typed a quick message back.

Glad you’re safe. I’m in Africa on medical mission. Any word from the others?

She would know who he was talking about. His best friends from childhood. They had all partnered together to open a much-needed clinic on their home island—just as their parents had all partnered together to found Mopaxeni Shipping, the company that had made them all rich.

Deakin rarely saw the clinic nowadays, but Theo kept him apprised of how it was doing. Their joint trust funds paid the bulk of the expenses, but a crisis like this one was going to stretch its finances to breaking point.

He kept half an eye on the reports as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone.

There were worries over tsunamis rolling in from the sea. His aunt hadn’t said anything about that, and nor had she texted back about his friends.

He sent off another question.

Tsunamis?

Within seconds he had a reply.

So far, no, thank God. But we’re on high ground. Should be okay. I have a message out to Theo. Chris and Ares aren’t on the island. Haven’t heard of damage to the clinic. The airstrip is a wreck, though. No flights in or out at the moment.

No flights. Well, at least they were able to get messages in and out—although that could change at any moment as more and more people tried to get a hold of loved ones.

His aunt hadn’t heard from Theo. Where was he?

Even as he thought it, his phone began to vibrate in his hand. The readout was exactly what he wanted to see.

Thank God!

He shot off a final text to his aunt.

Will write more soon.

Then he answered the call.

“Theo, glad to hear from you.”

“Don’t be glad. Not yet. You’ve heard?”

Was his friend injured? The clinic decimated?

“I’m just seeing the news. Is it as bad as it looks?”

“If you mean does the island look like it’s been through a meat grinder...almost. Where are you?”

The same question his aunt had asked.

“Africa. I still have a bit more than a month left on my contract.”

“Find a way to get out of it, then. Mythelios needs you.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s done fine without me—better without me.”

A sigh came over the phone. “Stop with the tired excuses, already. That was ages ago. Everyone who matters has already forgotten.”

His parents were dead, so they certainly had. But everyone?

“I haven’t forgotten. And I bet if you asked Ville neither has he.”

He scrubbed a hand over his neck once again. Even without the obvious reminders looking back at him in the mirror he would never be able to erase those images from his head. Of his best friend’s grin right before the world exploded before his eyes.

“Ville’s family moved off the island ten years ago. Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

Before he had time to draw enough breath to throw another excuse at his friend Theo brushed it aside with a sharp expletive.

“No buts, Deak. We’ve had this argument before. Mythelios is suffering. So put aside your self-pity for once. It’s time for you to do the right thing. Come home. The sooner, the better.”


CHAPTER ONE (#u2acbfd66-aaf0-5b4f-a800-9c34d1112db9)

THE CRUSH OF people in the inner sanctum of the clinic made Leanora Risi wince. Just over a month since the earthquake and the flow of those emotionally and physically wounded had not completely abated.

Many were drawn to the steady presence of the clinic and its outside garden. It had gotten so it was hard for her to find a quiet corner in which to hear from those who were still having problems dealing with the after-effects. She was well past the end of her vacation and her savings were slowly dwindling. She was going to have to make a decision about whether to leave or not...soon.

But not right now.

A man with dark shaggy hair and a jaw shadowed with what had to be a three-week growth of whiskers made his way to the front desk. There was an exhaustion about him that went beyond physical tiredness. It was in the way his eyes shifted slowly from one person to the next. He greeted several of them, shaking their hands, but it was a rapid clasp and release. Not the hearty greeting most of the islanders gave each other.

He reached the desk, but didn’t take the pen to sign in. Instead he flipped over the top sheet with his right hand and started studying the entries.

An internal alarm went off inside her. While it wasn’t against the rules for patients to glance at the list of other patients to see how long the wait would be—at least she didn’t think it was—the way he was acting was odd, making her gut tighten.

The number of patients they’d had right after the earthquake was staggering, and they had ended up just stacking new sheets on top of the old ones, since they hadn’t had time to sit down and collate the data and put the sign-in times on charts yet. Even though things had evened out quite a bit, there were still things they hadn’t completely caught up with.

When those long fingers flicked another sheet over, it was Lea’s signal to move. Murmuring an apology as she accidentally brushed shoulders with an older woman, she hurried forward, arriving beside the man and firmly placing her hand on the first couple of sheets, trapping his beneath them.

“Can I help you with something?”

His gaze swiveled from the stack of papers to her face. Up went dark brows, a hint of irritation marring his rugged features. “You can let me see how many patients have been treated today.”

That inner alarm became less certain. Those low growled words didn’t sound apologetic. At all. No sign of the nosy-neighbor-caught-with-binoculars-up-to-his-eyes syndrome. Instead he acted as if he had a right to look at those pages. But she didn’t recognize him. She would have remembered those high cheekbones, that bump in an otherwise straight nose.

Although...wasn’t there...?

What?

Despite the whiskers, his strong jaw was clearly visible. This was a man who wasn’t easily deterred from something he wanted. She just wasn’t sure what that something was.

She blinked to bring the room back into focus. Still filled with people. A few of them were on the list, waiting to be seen, but many just needed the solid presence of the clinic to ground them.

She lifted her hand from the papers, although she probably shouldn’t. He still hadn’t explained who he was.

“May I ask what you’re looking for, specifically?”

“I believe I already explained that, Ms....?”

Her chin tilted. “It’s Dr. Dr. Risi.”

“I wasn’t aware the clinic had hired a new doctor.” His voice downshifted, becoming a little less gruff. “Where is Petra?”

“Petra’s mom hasn’t felt well since the earthquake. She’s been going home during her lunch break to check on her.”

How did he know the clinic receptionist’s name? Although most of the islanders in this area seemed to know each other.

And now he was flipping through those patient sheets once again. “I don’t see a list of symptoms or injuries.”

“There isn’t one. Things got too chaotic, trying to separate them out, so we just did triage, taking the critical patients first. We put the ones who were stable but needed a specialist in a secondary waiting area in the Serenity Gardens.”

Facing the ocean, the courtyard led to a spacious garden that faced the sea. Lea’s tiny treatment area had been carved out of a dead-end path, shielded on two sides by vine-covered trellises.

It was the perfect place for her to see patients who needed to work through what they’d experienced during the quake. It was wonderful, and restful, and despite the tragedy she loved what she was doing there. More than she’d ever dreamed possible.

The people in the waiting area weren’t the only ones who needed to be grounded. She’d come to Greece to do just that. And had ended up on the island just as the quake hit. She’d stayed to help.

Her attention came back with a bump when the man in front of her made a slight scoffing noise.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It was then that she realized she still didn’t know who he was. He could be a psychiatric patient for all she knew. “Do you need to leave a message for Petra?”

He frowned. “Is Theo—Dr. Nikolaides—back yet?”

Theo had just gotten engaged. His whirlwind romance with Cailey had been a bright spot for the clinic, and probably one of the reasons why there were more people than normal here. It was as if folks wanted to catch a glimpse of the couple—live vicariously through those who had been able to find happiness in the midst of tragedy. Cailey was also nearly two months pregnant, and the baby had become a symbol of hope.

“He’s taking a much-needed personal day. Did you have a consultation scheduled with him?”

Maybe he actually was a patient.

“Not exactly.” One side of his mouth went up in a half-smile that sent her pulse tripping over itself. “He called me. Basically said I was an emotionless so-and-so if I didn’t come home as soon as I could.”

Home...

Home?

Then she swallowed—hard—an awful suspicion crashing like a boulder in the pit of her stomach. “You live here?”

His smile widened and he let the papers fall back into place as he turned toward her. “I don’t live in the clinic, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I don’t mean that, I just...” She was at a loss for words—which was unusual, since talking was what she was paid to do. What she loved to do. No, it wasn’t the words. It was the listening...the empathizing...the helping that she loved.

Although she couldn’t help everyone.

Her eyes closed as a shot of pain punched through her chest.

No, don’t think about that. Not now.

Something touched her hand. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m just tired. And I forgot to ask who you are.”

“Of course. Sorry, I just always assume that everyone knows who I am.” Something dark slithered through his brown eyes. Then it was gone again as quickly as it had come. “I’m Deakin Patera. I’m one of the four founding partners of the clinic.”

Ack!

God, she should have realized. Theo had said Dr. Patera was due to arrive in the next couple of days. She just hadn’t expected someone who looked like he’d stepped straight off the cover of a wilderness backpacking magazine. He could have told her who he was sooner. Emphasized his medical title like she had.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d done that. Maybe because she’d expected him to talk down to her like a few colleagues had over the years. But those people had been few and far between.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s okay. It’s been a long flight, and it’s not like our portraits are on the walls or anything. Thank God.”

What an odd thing to say. She smiled. “Maybe they should be. Your reputations seem to be known far and wide.”

The softness to his eyes disappeared. “I’m sure they are.”

Those four words might have come across as arrogant boasting if not for the strange tone in which they were said. It was as if he despised that fact.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing.” His glance turned to the occupants of the room. “Where do we begin?”

The words to a famous old musical song came to mind, but there was no way she was breaking into song. Not around this particular man. Besides she couldn’t compete with the likes of Julie Andrews.

“A lot of these people are just meeting friends and family here.” She nodded at the foursome who were even now passing through the wooden and glass doors off to the left. “The clinic seems to have become almost as much of a meeting place as Stavros’s taverna. And, since the bar is within walking distance, it makes it ideal.”

With its traditional white stucco exterior and well-manicured gardens to the side of it, the clinic was a beautiful building, combining old-world charm with all the modern amenities of a medical facility. The Serenity Gardens boasted many nooks and crannies, ideal for intimate conversations, and benches were sprinkled along a curving walkway which was wide enough for wheelchairs and yet rustic enough to invite exploring. A white sea wall and a boat dock were newer additions.

“I can see that. Theo always did want this place to be more than just a medical clinic. Hence the so-called Tranquility Gardens.”

“They’re called the Serenity Gardens, and it doesn’t sound like you approve of the addition.”

He shrugged, his dark shirt pulling tight over muscular shoulders. Shoulders her eyes had no business lingering on. She hauled her attention back to his face.

“It’s not that I disapprove,” he said. “I just don’t believe a manufactured place can bring tranquility. Serenity,” he corrected. His smile came back, although the left side of his mouth didn’t quite lift as high as the other. “Although Theo is convinced it can.”

“I think it can as well. It’s where I see most of my patients.”

“How does that work? Did Theo put an exam room out there?”

The image of a hospital bed nestled between the flower pots made her smile back. “No. Not yet, anyway. I use the exam rooms, obviously, for physical investigation, but the garden is much more conducive to talking things through.”

“Things? Such as unfavorable diagnoses?”

“Not exactly. I guess this is where I should say that I’m a psychiatrist.” She held up her hands. “No couch jokes, please.”

His head jerked back, a muscle in his jaw twitching for a second before going still. “Couch jokes are the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. Theo hired you?”

She bit her lip. Maybe the Serenity Gardens wasn’t the only thing Dr. Patera would disapprove of. “I just happened to be on the island when the earthquake hit. I stayed to help. It’s on a volunteer basis at the moment.”

“The quake happened over a month ago. What about your own practice?”

It was her turn to shrug. “I’d already given notice at my hospital, so I’m kind of between jobs.”

“And where was that? In Athens?”

Ah, he thought she actually lived in Greece. One of the perks of having parents who had immigrated to Canada from Greece when she was a kid was that she was bilingual. The fact that he hadn’t heard any trace of an accent made her happy. As did the ease with which the islanders seemed to have accepted her.

“No, I lived in Canada. Toronto.”

“Your family is Greek, though.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yes. They moved there when I was young.”

Someone came up on his right and said something to him. Dr. Patera turned his head to give the man his attention and Lea’s breath stalled in her lungs at what that shift of position revealed.

Scars. Big ones.

Wickedly thick, they began at the lower half of his strong square jaw and formed twin streams that coursed down the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. Continuing on to those shoulders she’d just been admiring? Probably. The scars were paler than the rest of his skin. So they were old.

How old?

God. Those wounds must have been agonizing when they were fresh. Debriding. Skin grafts. Therapy to allow for movement. All part of third-degree burn treatment.

What had caused them? An explosive device? Some kind of caustic agent? Maybe he’d been in the military or something. She had a feeling that what she’d thought was an attractive lopsidedness to his smile might be due to the contracture of skin and muscle drawing everything down. Her gaze traveled to his chest. How many more scars were hidden beneath his clothes?

Her mind tossed an image of a very naked Dr. Patera at her—one who aimed that scrumptious crooked smile right at her and sent her brain into overdrive. She swallowed hard, feeling a weird shifting sensation burrowing through her midsection. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

Oh, Lord, what was once seen could not be unseen.

Except she hadn’t really seen him naked. She’d just—

His attention shifted back to her with a suddenness she hadn’t expected. She released her lip in a hurry, but it was too late. She knew it the second his eyes flickered to her mouth and back up.

* * *

She’d seen them. His damned scars.

He gave an inner grimace. They were kind of obvious. His tendency to keep his right profile to a person was ingrained from years of trying to keep the damage to his skin out of sight. Hidden, but not forgotten.

Along with his sense of shame?

Probably. The two things seemed to go hand in hand. It was one of the things that had kept him from wanting to come back to the island. Almost every person on Mythelios knew what he’d done. Or at least they thought they did.

Except Dr. Risi, here. And now even she had seen the evidence—she just didn’t know the reason for it.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d participated in the founding of this clinic. He’d wanted to leave after medical school and never come back. And for the most part he’d done exactly that. But his three best friends in the world had been determined to take their parents’ tarnished legacies and turn them into something good. And as long as he could give his input from a distance he was good with that. His traveling did the trick for the most part. He was able to give his nods of approval from afar, except when they absolutely needed his physical presence.

Like now.

If he’d expected to see a quick show of pity on this new doctor’s face, though, he was sorely disappointed. She met his gaze with steady green eyes that gave nothing away.

That was probably the psychiatrist in her. She was trained to listen without judging. Not to seem shocked or horrified, no matter how ugly the story. Or how hideous the outward appearance.

His dad—after a rare crack had appeared in his chilly demeanor—had once sent him to a shrink in Athens, six months after the accident. But Deakin, his scars still fresh and painful, had refused to say anything. After four sessions of sitting there in sullen silence they’d given up. All of them—including the psychiatrist.

He tried to recall what Lea had been talking about moments earlier, working to forget the way those white teeth had captured that full bottom lip in a way that was far too sexy for a psychiatrist.

He switched to English so those around would be less likely to understand them if she tried to ask about his scars. “So, what part of Greece were your parents from?”

“Athens—like you thought. My dad was a welder and went to Canada to help with the building of one of the Orthodox churches. He ended up staying.” She sent a lock of long dark hair spinning over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “He sent for me and my mom a few months later, and we went, sight unseen. But we love it there now.”

The switch in language hadn’t thrown her for a loop. In fact her English was as flawless as her Greek. He knew himself well enough to know that his Greek accent was still fairly strong, even after years of speaking English in other countries.

“You don’t ever get homesick for Greece?”

“Not really. I was a kid when things changed.”

That he understood. He didn’t get homesick either. And he’d also been a kid when things had changed. Only, unlike for her, the change hadn’t been a good one for him.

She went on. “Besides, you can find Greeks on almost every street corner.”

“You can, indeed.” Deakin had found pockets of Greek communities almost everywhere he’d gone. “Well, shall we get started? Are you only seeing patients who need counseling?”

“No, we’ve been kind of short-staffed, as you can imagine, so I’ve been helping wherever I can. The immediate injuries from the quake have been taken care of, but there are still issues—broken bones, lacerations that have become infected... Burns. But I have been seeing patients who are struggling to cope with the after effects of the earthquake. It’s what I specialize in. People dealing with PTSD.”

He tried to ignore the way she’d hesitated before saying the word “burns.”

“PTSD from time served in the military?”

“No, civilian for the most part. Trauma comes in many forms.”

Yes, it did. He wasn’t sure if she was subtly trying to dig into his past struggles, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He didn’t need someone probing where they didn’t belong.

Time to get to work.

Just then Petra came back from wherever she’d been and glanced his way. She did a double-take, her eyes widening.

“Deakin!”

She rushed through the door to the waiting room and grabbed him in a strong, matronly embrace.

Her graying locks were scraped back into a bun and dark-rimmed glasses were pushed on top of her head. The combination gave her a no-nonsense appearance. One that was well-deserved. She could be formidable when she wanted to be.

“It’s about time you came home.”

He stiffened at that word. This wasn’t his home. Not anymore. But at least her presence took Dr. Risi’s attention off him.

“I’m sure you’re keeping the clinic running like a well-oiled machine.”

She dropped her glasses onto her nose and peered at him over the top of them. “It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

“I’m sure. Did Chris or Ares make it home yet?”

“No. Not yet. But I’m hopeful you will all be reunited soon. It’s been too long.”

“Yes, it has.”

While he didn’t miss the island, he did miss his friends.

“So, Theo has been handling the crisis alone?” He’d thought maybe the others would have made it back sooner than him.

“Well, he has Cailey now. She’s been a huge help. And Lea has been aprosdókito kaló. She’s very organized. And beautiful, don’t you think?”

Color bloomed in the psychiatrist’s face. Petra had called the doctor a godsend. And beautiful.

And Petra was right. She was very attractive. Dark-lashed eyes gleamed with purpose beneath arched brows. And with each upward curve of her lips high cheekbones appeared.

And yet there was something lurking just beneath the surface. He’d caught glimpses of it when she’d talked about PTSD. Did her patients’ pain affect her on a personal level? He knew from experience that as much as you tried to maintain an emotional distance there were some patients who touched something inside you.

His own throat tightened whenever he was called on to treat a child who’d suffered horrific burns or who had lost limbs from incendiary devices or from IEDs. It was why he did what he did.

“I think you’ve embarrassed Dr. Risi, Petra.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine. And please call me Lea. We all tend to be informal around here.”

The way she said that make him take a closer look at her. She didn’t sound fine. Did she think the older woman was trying to set them up somehow? Well, she needn’t worry. He wasn’t about to start a romance with anyone—especially not someone with ties to this island.

But she didn’t have ties—had said she didn’t get homesick for Greece. She was a temporary visitor, that was all. She wasn’t staying on the island for long.

The image of those teeth gripping that lip in a tight embrace sashayed across the backs of his eyelids, playing peekaboo with a neglected part of his anatomy. He could think of a way to make her do that all over again. For very different reasons.

He stopped that thought in its tracks. Not happening. She could be leaving tomorrow for all he knew.

His job didn’t lend itself to relationships. And that suited him just fine. Theo might have found true love, but that was something Deakin neither wanted nor needed. Because relationships meant exposing the worst of yourself to someone else.

Lea pushed that errant strand of hair over her shoulder once again and glanced out over the waiting room, which was gradually clearing out.

“It may not look that way, but this is one of our slower times.” She looked at the sign-in sheet. “It’ll stay that way until after lunch.”

Deakin was having a hard time understanding why exactly he was even here. Could he fly out before Theo realized he had arrived?

“Are you still seeing new injuries?”

“Some. There are a few buildings that still aren’t stable. So we’re seeing crush injuries. And with those unstable buildings come gas lines and electric wires, so there’s a chance of electrocution and burns—”

She was still talking, but that last word was all he heard in that moment. It was the second time she’d said it.

Deakin’s father had replaced his boat. It was right there in the rebuilt boathouse. Leaving it to Deakin in his will had seemed like the ultimate slap in the face, but since they’d left everything else to him as well it probably hadn’t been meant like that. But Deakin had kept it, taking that vessel out for a spin every time he came home—which wasn’t often. But the guests that booked his home were granted full use of the grounds—including his Jeep and the boat.

“Hello?” Lea snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Are you okay?”

He frowned, hating being caught thinking about his past. “I’m fine. I’m just dealing with a serious case of jet lag. I need a shave and a shower.”

“You must be exhausted. Did you come straight here after landing on the mainland?”

“Yes, but I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but it had nothing to do with being tired.

There was no way he was going to share any of that with her. Temporary visitor, remember?

Petra interrupted. “I talked to your aunt this morning. She was sure you were arriving today and said to send you straight over to the house. She’s put a moussaka in the fridge for you.”

His Aunt Cecilia was in charge of renting out his parents’ house and his cottage to tourists. It seemed better than letting them sit empty and untended.

“Great.” He glanced at the wall behind the reception desk, frowning when something caught his eye.

Dammit. What was that doing there?

He shook his head and tried to continue his thought. “Where did you end up staying?” he asked Lea.

“At a private cottage a few miles from here.”

Petra laughed. “A few miles from here in that direction.” Her hand waved a few times in the air before pointing to the west.

There probably weren’t all that many bed and breakfasts operating right now. Not that the damage to the island was horrific, but he could pretty much guarantee that tourist income was down. Hadn’t his aunt said that his house had been sitting vacant ever since the earthquake? Who wanted to vacation in a place torn apart by a natural disaster?

He couldn’t think of anything on the west side of the island except for the expensive houses owned by people like his parents. Although... His house was in that general—

“Whose cottage?”

The receptionist smiled wickedly, while Lea looked thoroughly confused. “Theo, Cailey and your aunt figured it was the best place to house her, since the hotel she was staying at was damaged by the quake. So she’s staying in the cottage, Deakin. Your cottage.”


CHAPTER TWO (#u2acbfd66-aaf0-5b4f-a800-9c34d1112db9)

THIS WAS DEAKIN’S HOUSE?

She set a skillet on a burner to heat and gritted her teeth.

Why hadn’t Theo told her? She’d assumed it was a relative’s house or something. But the tiny white building behind the opulent house was perfect, and she loved staying there. The formal manicured grounds here made the Serenity Gardens look like something out of a dollhouse, although it was a gorgeous setting. The clinic’s grounds were informal, while the house she was staying so close to screamed money. Even the boathouse had a tiny apartment over it.

She had never really stopped to think about who on the island could afford something like this. Theo had said he and his friends’ parents had been part of something called Mopaxeni Shipping. They’d all been wealthy. She didn’t know the whole story, and although the clinic was state of the art she had gotten the impression that they were only scraping by and looking for fundraisers.

Like that calendar over the desk in the main entryway at the clinic that boasted photos of twelve very hunky locals. Some of them were doctors, or employees of the clinic, and others were firefighters or involved in other lines of public service.

Deakin was somewhere in the main house at this very moment. It had been more than obvious that he wasn’t happy with her being here. The look on his face when he’d realized exactly which cottage Petra was talking about had been priceless...and embarrassing. But unless she just wanted to leave the island there wasn’t much she could do about it. And she was enjoying the work far too much to let Deakin’s grumpiness drive her away.

The property was usually rented out when Deakin wasn’t there, Theo had finally admitted when she’d called him and confronted him about the cottage. He hadn’t been positive Deakin would come back when he’d offered it to her, and they’d needed her at the clinic. And for that to happen she’d needed someplace to sleep. It had been the only logical solution.

That didn’t make it the most comfortable one now that Deakin was home. He’d claimed it didn’t bother him to have her staying there, but his voice told another story.

Cracking an egg, she listened to the satisfying sizzle as it hit the heated oil, the earthy scent filling the air, making her mouth water.

She made her way to the refrigerator for some orange juice, pulling a small glass from a cupboard on the way. She could do this. From what she’d heard about Deakin, a plastic surgeon who specialized in treating burns victims, he didn’t stay in one place for any length of time. He probably wouldn’t be here for more than a week or two. As soon as he could Deakin would be on his way.

He didn’t like the island. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. It was in the way his eyes shifted from thing to thing, that ever-present frown on his face. Something here held bad vibes for him.

Maybe he’d been injured on the island?

It didn’t matter.

She hadn’t come to the island to speculate on its residents, past or present. She’d come here to escape.

No. Not to escape. To start over.

There was a difference. Starting over involved staying here on this earth, not—

Dammit.

A piercing shriek shattered her thoughts in an instant, and her brain struggled to locate the source.

A smoke alarm, just behind her.

Why...?

Oh, no! Where there’d once been the satisfying crackle of a cooking egg there was now billowing smoke coming from the stovetop.

But that alarm...

God! Her ears!

The racket was huge and dramatic, with flashing strobe lights and a screeching caterwaul that reminded her of a seagull. Or maybe a million of them.

The hot oil wasn’t actually on fire, thank heavens, so she rushed over and grabbed the pan. She was hurrying toward the sink with it just as the front door burst open.

Deakin appeared, stopping in his tracks as his eyes jerked from her face and landed on the pan, which was now safely under the tap.

He came over, putting both hands on the edge of the counter, his breath seesawing in and out. “What happened?”

She could barely make out the words over the alarm.

“I was trying to cook dinner, but...” She had to yell, her vocal cords straining. “Can you turn that thing off?”

He pulled a remote from the front pocket of his chinos and aimed it toward the still blaring siren.

She sucked down a deep breath, her ears ringing in the sudden silence that followed. “Wow. Why didn’t you just turn it off from the house? I think you got an industrial-sized alarm by mistake.”

“No mistake. It’s safer.”

Her head tilted. Safer? Okay...whatever he said.

She gave a rueful gesture toward the skillet. “I’m sorry. I’ll reimburse you, of course, if the pan is ruined.”

“It’s nothing. I thought the whole cottage was on fire.”

It was then that she realized his upper lip was damp with perspiration and the tight lines running down the side of his face weren’t from irritation but from something far worse. Fear.

Of what?

A smoke alarm went off, Lea, that’s what.

He didn’t want to lose his home to her stupidity. But she had never seen an alarm like that. Actually, when she looked closer she also saw ceiling sprinklers, jutting down at regular intervals.

“I guess I’m lucky the sprinklers didn’t go off and give you water damage on top of everything else. I really am sorry.”

He brushed aside her words. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay. The sprinklers are set with a delay. If the alarm isn’t shut down in ten minutes they engage, and then the fire department is notified.”

There was a tense element to his voice, that made her take a closer look at the way he was perspiring.

A warning tingle started at the back of her head and traveled up over the top. She shut off the faucet. Maybe that was what those scars were from. A house fire. It would explain a lot. His apathy toward the island. His reluctance to return, according to Theo.

Bad memories?

If it had been the big house or this particular cottage, they had been rebuilt to perfection. They looked like they’d been standing on this rocky crag for the last century. Except for the boathouse. That was different from the main house and the cottage, even though it still blended in. It just seemed newer, somehow. But there was no way she was going to ask.

“I’m fine.” She forced another smile. “Unfortunately my meal didn’t fare quite as well.”

“The smoke detector certainly didn’t approve.” A beep-beep accompanied a few more manipulations of the remote control. “There. I’ve reset it for you.”

Just in case his panicked reaction wasn’t all in her imagination, she decided to put his mind at ease. “Thanks. I’ll stay far away from the stove tonight so I don’t trip it again. Cold cuts it is.”

He paused for a few long seconds before glancing at her, and sure enough his muscles seemed to relax all at once. “My aunt’s moussaka is heating in the oven at the main house. There’s more than enough if you want to share.”

She tried to ignore the way her mouth watered. Moussaka was one of her favorite dishes. “Are you sure? I don’t mind just making a sandwich.”

If he was as uneasy about having her at the cottage as she thought he was, it was up to her to make sure her stay was as discreet as possible. Especially since there wasn’t anywhere else for her to stay. At least not now. Maybe in another week or two something would open up and she could leave Deakin alone in his cottage on the hill.

“I’m sure. I was going to offer earlier, but I wasn’t sure what your plans were.”

“My plans are a bit charred now,” she said, nodding at the sink. “You rent the house out, Theo said? The cottage as well?”

“Yes. Since my parents are both gone it’s the best way I can think of to keep them occupied, so their upkeep is not left completely up to my aunt.”

His tight jaw said that his parents were “gone” as in deceased. She was surprised Theo hadn’t mentioned that.

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

“It’s been a while, but thank you. They died in a car accident on the mainland.”

They died together.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to suppress a wave of grief. At least one of them hadn’t left the other wondering where they’d gone wrong. Or if they could have done something—anything—differently.

Not a healthy avenue to pursue.

With as much PTSD as she’d treated, you’d think she’d be able to recognize it in herself. The problem was, she did recognize it. There just wasn’t anything she could do about it. Things were the way they were, and no railing against fate was going to change it.

Mark was dead. His life cut short in a single defining moment.

Six months before they were supposed to be married.

“It’s hard losing someone you care about.”

The words came out of their own volition, making her frown. She needed to change the subject before it brought back even more memories. Ones that were better off left behind her.

“So, your aunt is a good cook?”

He pushed away from the counter, his tenseness evaporating. “One of the best on the island. Besides managing this place, she caters special events here on the island.”

“Wow. I think I remember Theo saying something about the caterer being related to you. Is that your aunt?”

“If he called her Cecilia Patera, then, yes. She’s really the only woman on the island who cooks for a living. Her moussaka is out of this world. They even serve some of her meze at Stavros’s taverna. You’ve been there?”

“Only once. The owner was a little gruff.”

Deakin’s head tilted. “Really? That doesn’t sound like Stavros. But I guess everyone can have an off day.”

The man hadn’t been mean, he’d just answered someone a little more curtly than she’d liked and that had been enough for her. She hadn’t been back since.

“I’m sure that’s what it was. Anyway, since I have destroyed my sense of hearing as well as your frying pan, I think I’ll take you up on your offer of moussaka, if it’s really okay. I can just bring a portion home and eat it here, though. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was an inconvenience. Or I could make you a quick omelet if you have your heart set on eggs.”

“I actually love moussaka, so no. Eggs just seemed quick and easy.”

The right side of his mouth went up. It was then she realized that she couldn’t see his burns at all. Because that side of his face was angled away from her. But even if that crooked smile was a result of whatever had happened to him, it didn’t make it any less sexy.

“Not so quick and not so easy, from the looks of it.”

“Only because I was distracted,” she protested with a smile.

He glanced toward the television, which was off. “Oh? By what?”

By thoughts of orange juice and...and her mysterious neighbor. But she was not going to say that out loud. He would kick her out if he suspected she was daydreaming about him.

She wasn’t. She was just...thinking about life and the strange ways that paths intersected. And sometimes came to a dead end.

She shifted as a familiar heaviness in her chest made itself known.

There was nothing you could have done, Lea.

The voice inside her head came back with its customary rejoinder: How do you know that for sure?

She couldn’t know. She would never know. And even if she became convinced she’d missed a whole barrage of symptoms—which she hadn’t—it was too late now.

Deakin was still waiting for her response.

She glanced out the window over the sink and caught sight of the gorgeous sunset. “By that.” She motioned toward the sight, mentally crossing her fingers.

He put his elbows on the counter to get low enough to look out the window. “It is beautiful. I have the same view from the kitchen in the main house.”

He might think it was a pretty view, but it didn’t go deeper than an objective observation. How did she know that? There had been no emotion in the statement. No softening of his eyes. No smile the way he had when she’d changed the subject a few minutes ago.

“It’s pretty breathtaking.” She tried again to prod him lightly, not even sure what she was looking for.

“Yes, it is. Are you ready?” He had already turned away from the window, was coming around to the other side of the counter and checking the knobs on the stove.

“I already turned them off.”

“Sometimes they stick.”

No, they didn’t. She’d heard the click as they snapped off.

Rather than be offended by his double-checking, she felt a rush of sympathy go through her. More and more she was convinced that something bad had happened to him very close to home. And those scars were old, so it had been a while ago. Long enough for him to have stopped needing to check knobs on a stove. Or was it...?

Leaving the cottage, he indicated the way down a cobblestone pathway that led to the main house. The harsh heat of the day was giving way to cooler temperatures now that the sun was going down. Even so, she was very glad the cottage was air-conditioned.

“Have you been in the house itself yet?” he asked.

“No, but it’s beautiful from the outside.”

“Yes, my parents did a nice job on it when it was built.”

Her eyes skipped to the white boathouse near the shore. “You’re very lucky to live so close to the water. It’s a shame you aren’t here very often to enjoy it. I would be in that boat every chance I got.”

His steps faltered for a second, before he continued on. “I go out in it every time I’m home.”

“I bet it’s gorgeous out there on the water.”

“I guess it is.” He glanced back at her. “I’ll probably go out at least once while I’m here. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“Oh, I wasn’t angling for an invitation. I’m sorry if it came across that way.”

“It didn’t.”

Lea wasn’t sure how she felt about going out on the water with him. There was something about him that made her uneasy.

She decided to sidestep the subject without making it too obvious. “Did you grow up in this house?”

“Yes.”

She waited for him to elaborate, or tell her how long he’d lived there, but he didn’t. By the time she tried to think of something else to break what was becoming an uncomfortable silence they were at the front door. Dark and heavy, it loomed over the small porch.

Or maybe it was her thoughts that were dark.

The main house hadn’t seemed ominous before.

He opened it, motioning her through the entryway, and the feeling instantly went away. White tile flooring blended into equally white walls. It might have come across as spartan and cold except for the touches here and there of an azure blue that reminded Lea of the warm ocean waters that surrounded the island. It was there in a painting. In the pillows she could see through the arched doorway of the living room. It had been professionally decorated.

“I didn’t expect the inside to look like this.”

She couldn’t stop the words. She thought the cottage was lovely and homey, but this was head and shoulders above the quaintness of where she was staying. It was ultra-formal and elegant. And somehow it didn’t match Deakin at all.

He should be surrounded by brown furnishings and dark shadowy corners.

No, he shouldn’t. That would be depressing.

Except it wouldn’t. It would match what she sensed was inside him: hidden recesses that he revealed to no one.

She tensed. Hadn’t she come across that before? Looking back, she wasn’t sure how she could have missed those signs in Mark. Only she’d been young and in love, and Mark had had a way of flashing that carefree smile of his in a way that had seemed so genuine.

Wasn’t that how emotional scars in people were overlooked until it was too late?

As if on cue, Deakin turned back, his scars appearing in stark contrast as the light from the doorway poured over them. “How did you expect it to look?”

“Don’t get me wrong...it’s extremely elegant.” There was no way she could give voice to her thoughts from a moment earlier. No way. No how. “It’s just very different from the cottage.”

“My aunt had a hand in decorating the cottage. It’s where I normally live when I come here. The house is rented out most of the year. The people who were going to rent it this month backed out because of the earthquake.”

“Your aunt didn’t help decorate the main house.”

It was a statement. Not a question. There was no way the same person had had a hand in this house, although a skilled interior decorator could probably pull off two such divergent spaces.

“No.” He swept a hand around the foyer. “This was all my parents’ doing.”

He said it as if it was not the way he would have done things.

“Are you going to redo it?”

“No.”

The single word answer didn’t invite discussion. Instead she studied the textured paint on the walls and the pricey rugs on the floor and changed the topic to something a little more neutral.

“Your guests must love staying here.”

His eyes closed for a split second. In gratitude? She had no idea.

He tossed a set of keys and the remote he’d had at the cottage onto a nearby console table. “They seem to like it.”

“Is there another remote for the alarm at the cottage?” She allowed a glimmer of a smile to play across her face. “In case I decide to cook again at some point?” The scent of something warm and inviting curled around her nostrils. “Although if that heavenly aroma is what I think it is I may have to hire your aunt to cook all my meals for me.”

“I’m sure she would be happy to.”

Lea had a feeling he might be happy if she did that as well.

“Seriously, do you want the cottage stove to be off-limits? Just say the word. I don’t want you to worry about me setting the place on fire every time I’m in the kitchen.”

“I’m not.”

He wasn’t what? Worried? Because the stiff set of his posture as he walked in the direction of the living room said something different.

“I’ll give you a quick tour while dinner finishes heating.”

They went through the archway, and her eyes tracked from thing to thing.

“This space is pretty obvious...”

The blue pillows she’d noticed earlier were set in precise rows along the back of the couch. It reminded her of suture lines. She did her best to hide the shiver that went through her. It was only her imagination. Or maybe just a reaction to the whole smoke alarm encounter.

She almost hadn’t noticed that he’d shaved the stubble off his face sometime this evening. His hair was still on the longish side, but it was thick and glossy now, and her fingers suddenly itched to touch one of the dark wavy locks as he came to a stop. The man looked like a Greek god out of a legend.

She dragged her gaze back to the room when he turned to face her, and tried to shut the door on the shot of pure hormones that jetted through her.

Dust. Look for dust. A cobweb. Anything!

The perfectly square coffee table in front of her held a stack of magazines about boats, a white plaster lighthouse and a tray that held three blue candles. Not a speck of dust.

“Does your aunt clean the place after guests leave?”

“No, I hire a service to come in once a week. My aunt must have asked them to come in for my arrival.”

So he’d known exactly when he was coming home? Why had no one warned her before he arrived? “Does Theo know you’re here?”

“Not yet. I didn’t give him my exact itinerary. I figured I’d stop in at the clinic and then come straight home if it wasn’t overrun with patients. I hoped to catch him there, but obviously not if he’s taking a personal day. I’ll call him in the morning.”

“Patients seem to come in spurts. Some days we can hardly keep up. Other days we’re twiddling our thumbs—like this afternoon.”

“How are you getting to and from the clinic?”

She shifted her weight to the other foot. “Well, there’s a...um...a bicycle stored behind the cottage. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been borrowing it?”

“Why don’t you take the car? It’s there for guests—surely Cecilia told you about it?”

“She did, but I was worried about aftershocks right after I vacated my hotel. I figured I could navigate a bicycle off the road in case of a car accident or a traffic jam. And then, once that danger had passed, I’d just got used to riding in. It helps me enjoy the beauty of the island.”

“It’s not quite as beautiful as it once was.”

“You should have seen it right after the quake hit. It was awful.”

The memory of the ground shuddering beneath her feet, of plaster cracking and sheeting off the walls in her hotel room, stopped any lingering feeling of attraction in its tracks. She’d crawled under the bed, hoping the roof wasn’t going to cave in on top of her. It had seemed like forever before the ground tremors had subsided, when in reality it had probably only lasted a few minutes.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Her brows went up. “I’m sorry anyone had to go through it. It was terrible.”

“I’m sure it was.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “There was no way I could have come any sooner—my contract was unbreakable. I saw the reports on the news when I was sitting in a bar in Africa. Theo called as I was watching, and once I got off the phone with him I called everyone I could think of to see if they were okay.”

They walked through the door to the dining room—another opulent space, where a huge glass-topped table crouched beneath a low chandelier. The surface, like the coffee table in the living room, was devoid of dust or even a single smudged fingerprint.

It bothered her, somehow. This didn’t look like a place where a family might recount the minutiae of their day. Or where a child might spill a glass of milk and not live in fear of messing up something. Instead it reeked of formal place settings and expensive crystal. A place where business negotiations were hammered out.

Had Deakin eaten here as a child? God, she hoped not. She could just picture him eating a bowl of breakfast cereal all by himself. But maybe it hadn’t been that way at all. Maybe he was from a big family who laughed their way through life.

“Do you have more family on the island?”

“You mean siblings?” He shook his head. “Nope. I’m an only child.”

So no under the table kicking of a little sister or brother. No food fights or handing non-tasty morsels to the family dog. There was no sign that a pet of any kind had ever lived in this house.

Lea’s childhood home had been messy and chaotic, with dogs and rabbits and horse shows through the local club. But she wouldn’t trade it for the world. Medical school had been too grueling for her to have pets, but she certainly planned on having one or two once she got settled. In fact she and Mark had visited a shelter one time, just a week before he died.

Thank goodness they hadn’t adopted a pet that day.

A fresh bout of anger went through her, even though he’d been gone more than a year. Ten years from now she would probably feel just as bewildered, could understand the grief and anger of other loved ones who’d been left behind just as suddenly.

“I’m an only child as well.”

She wasn’t going to delve beyond that, because she didn’t know enough about him to trade childhood snapshots. Not yet, anyway. And probably not ever, since she wouldn’t see him again once she’d left the island.

A pang went through her at the thought of going back to Toronto. As much as she loved her parents and her adopted city, she had put down the first tiny threads of roots on Mythelios. The second she’d stepped onto the island there’d been a sense of home. Of belonging. Maybe because of her Greek heritage. But her savings would eventually run out and she would have to go back to work.

The question was where.

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and turned toward her, propping his left shoulder against the door frame and crossing his arms. “It must have been quite an adjustment moving to Canada, then.”

She had to backtrack for a second to realize he was talking about her being an only child.

“In some ways. But I think it made it easier for me to adapt. Toronto has a lot of immigrants, but I went to school. I had to learn English quickly in order to survive. Sink or swim. I swam.”

And Mark hadn’t.

He pursed his lips. “You’ve left your position there, though. Where are you off to next? Back to Canada?”

It was as if he’d read her mind. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Her parents were there. And yet the last thing she wanted to do was face her and Mark’s old apartment. She’d have to, though, even if just to pack up her things. His belongings were long gone. Mark’s mom and dad had been tasked with the heartbreaking job of sorting through everything and deciding what to do with his personal items. She’d spent the week in a hotel to give them some privacy. That had been many months ago, but the sharp sting of those days still remained.

“I understand how that is.”

His arms dropped to his sides, his posture opening up as if he really did understand her uncertainty.

Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I think dinner is probably just about ready. Are you okay with eating out on the back deck? It should be cooling off outside by now.”

“Outside sounds wonderful.” She hoped her tone didn’t give away how relieved she was they were not to be seated at opposite ends of that enormous table.

The right side of his mouth kicked up in a way that said he was just as glad. “Good. Then if you’ll get the plates out of that cabinet by the sink, I’ll get the pan out of the oven.”

Opening the glass-fronted cabinet, she pulled down two ornate pieces of china, giving a quick wrinkle of her nose that she hoped he wouldn’t see. Maybe their conversation would be a little less brittle than the dinnerware. Maybe they could even put that awkward first meeting behind them and get off on a better foot. For as long as they both were here.

She grimaced at how close that was to another sentence. If Mark had lived they would be married. But he hadn’t. And they weren’t. And Lea had no plans to leap into another romance anytime soon.

Right now she just needed to focus on putting that painful period in her life behind her. While she never would have wished Mythelios’s earthquake on anyone, it had served to take her mind off herself and focus on doing good for those on the island. Didn’t she always tell her patients that giving back to others was a great way to derail self-pity? She should have taken a page from her own book months ago. But she hadn’t been ready to let go of the apartment which was a last connection to her fiancé.

She took a deep breath and accepted the steaming plate Deakin handed her with a murmured thank-you.

One thing was for sure, though. She was never getting involved with another man who carried a truckload of baggage. If she dated again, she was picking someone fun. Someone full of sunshine and light.

No brooding. No past trauma.

She gave a mental pinky-swear...to herself.

Happy, cheerful, and an eternal optimist. That was the best prescription she could think of.

And what better place to start than with herself?


CHAPTER THREE (#u2acbfd66-aaf0-5b4f-a800-9c34d1112db9)

“WHY DIDN’T YOU tell me you were arriving yesterday, Deak? Cailey and I would have picked you up. Did you fly in or take the ferry?”

Theo stood in the doorway to the exam room his patient had just exited, his frowning countenance not fooling anyone. His friend was glad to see him.

“I flew. It was a pretty bumpy landing. I guess they’ll resurface the runway eventually. My aunt said it got damaged pretty badly.”

“It was cracked in half. They did what they could to get it up and running again.” He grinned. “I’m glad you could finally join the party.”

Setting his laptop on the counter top, he walked over and gave Theo a quick brotherly slap on the back. “From what I’ve heard you’re doing quite a bit of partying. I didn’t want to disturb your love-nest.”

Theo was one of the few people he’d never felt judged by. As kids he, Chris and Eri had never ogled his scars, but they hadn’t tiptoed around them either. They’d accepted them, just like they’d accepted him—something his parents had never seemed able to do after the fire.

He’d never told them the whole truth. It wouldn’t have helped the situation and it would have just made life harder for Ville, whose home life had been a million times worse than his. At least Deakin’s parents hadn’t hit him. They’d just frozen him out emotionally instead.

“Love-nest? Really?” He paused. “Cailey’s pregnant. I wasn’t sure if you’d heard.”

Deakin’s brows went up and he slapped his friend’s back again. Hard enough to make Theo grunt this time. “No, you conveniently omitted that fact during our first phone conversation.”

“Well, since it happened sometime after that call...” He chuckled. “Oh, you’ve met Lea Risi, haven’t you?”

Deakin picked up his laptop, setting it on the table near the door. “She’s living almost under my roof, so it’s kind of hard to miss her. Another thing you cleverly omitted to mention.”

“We can move her somewhere else if having her there bothers you. Cecilia kind of insisted when the hotel was evacuated. I could always check with Cailey and move her into our house.”

“No. I’ll survive. It’s not like I’ll be here for a year or anything.”

“You never know.”

His chest tightened. “Oh, I know.”

Better change the subject before they got into it. He and Theo had already gone round and round enough times on this particular subject.

“So, what about this whole fundraising bachelor auction thing Cecelia has told me about? I don’t have to do anything for it, right?”

“Well, since I’m out of the running, being an expectant father and all...”

Deakin made a sound that was half-grunt, half-laugh. “You must have wanted out of that auction really bad.”

“Um...no. That’s not quite how things worked. I never expected to meet someone and... Well, anyway, now that you’re here you can take my place in the auction. The earthquake decimated our funds. And our CT scanner is on the fritz. It has to be repaired or replaced.”

“Not interested. I already did that freak show of a calendar. Besides, I wouldn’t bring in enough for a photocopier, much less a CT machine.”

The thought of standing on some stage having people bid—or not bid—on his “worth” gave him the heebie-jeebies. Or, worse, having some little old lady place a pity bid on him that had him scrubbing her kitchen sink or something.

“I’d also appreciate it if you’d ask Petra to take down that calendar hanging in the reception area. At least for the month of July.”

“Ha! That would be a negative, since that calendar has already brought in several thousand euros. If you want it down, you ask her.”

And risk getting on Petra’s wrong side? Although it might be worth it this time. Deakin’s picture on the calendar was for the month of July, which was just over a week away. He didn’t want anyone seeing that snapshot, especially not Lea.

He wasn’t sure why that thought bothered him more than having other people see it. Maybe because he’d grown up on this island and they all knew him—knew his history. She didn’t, and he didn’t want her asking anyone about the incident which had seared a roadmap of scars into the left side of his chest.

There were areas of it that had never regained sensation, the nerves permanently damaged. He would never again feel the scrape of a woman’s fingertips on those parts of his body. His throat tightened. Not that he routinely invited women into his bedroom, for the very same reason that he didn’t want that calendar out there for the world to see.

Lea would probably think he’d been on some kind of ego trip during that whole photo shoot. That was the furthest thing from the truth. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but their trust fund money from Mopaxeni Shipping had been running short for the year. So they had concocted the stupid scheme to get some local guys on a calendar, figuring some of the islanders might be keen to help fund the clinic.

One of the subjects had had a gall stone attack the day of the photo shoot, so Deakin had been an emergency substitute to save the day—such as it was. He hadn’t even looked at the actual shot when it had been sent over—had just checked the “accept” box and sent the envelope back to the photographer.

The thought of Lea seeing how far down his scars went made him queasy. He’d caught her studying his neck when she thought he wasn’t looking. Several times, in fact. He’d even almost balked about getting his hair cut this morning, because the longer it was, the more it covered. But that would have been admitting that Lea’s curious glances disturbed him on some level. So he’d gone to his aunt and asked her to do the deed. She had, and four inches of shaggy growth had ended up on her kitchen floor.




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