The Makeover Prescription. Christy Jeffries

scrubs only served as a reminder that she was some smart doctor with a fancy education. In this outfit—he let his eyes travel down her form-fitting workout clothes—she looked like the kind of woman who would hang out in hotel bars and throw herself at the visiting professional baseball team.

      “Mr. Chatterson?” she asked, and Kane tried not to look at the straps of her sports bra as he shifted the cold drink to his other hand, then back again.

      “Sorry. I didn’t recognize you dressed like...” Dressed like what? One of Beyoncé’s backup dancers? Nothing he could say at this point would make him sound like less of an infatuated idiot. “Anyway, I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

      “Sorry for running into you at all,” she said, then held up her smartphone. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going because I have this new fitness monitor on here, and I somehow programmed it wrong. It’s telling me that I’ve only burned thirty calories but that my heart rate is 543. Now, I’m trying to just delete the whole thing, because really, I know how to check my own pulse and multiply and... Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about this.”

      She tapped harder on the display. Kane, always a sucker for video games and electronics, eased the phone out of her hand. “Here, let me.”

      She leaned in and watched over his shoulder as he made a few swipes and closed out the app. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that touch screens didn’t seem to be her forte. Or that standing this close to her still-damp skin made him think of a different type of physical exertion he wouldn’t mind engaging in with her.

      He finished and handed the device back to her, cursing to himself for having such an inappropriate thought. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

      “Well, I do work here.” It might’ve come off as defensive or stuck-up from any other woman, but Just Julia’s response seemed more like a schoolteacher trying to explain a new concept to a first grader.

      And Kane Chatterson had always had a soft spot for his first-grade teacher, who’d been the only one who hadn’t treated him like a below-average student with problems sitting still in class.

      “Are you working now?” He finally allowed himself to look down at the form-fitting sports tank that tapered down to her small waist. He brought his straw to his lips, needing something to relieve the sudden dryness in his mouth. He got the paper wrapper instead.

      “I had back-to-back surgeries this morning and needed to loosen up and relieve some tension before I started on my post-op reports. Normally I do laps in the pool, but there was a water aerobics class going on, so I used the cardio equipment instead and accidentally set the program for the inverted pyramid. The incline level got stuck on high, which is why I tried to use my phone to calculate my heart rate. Wait. Why am I explaining all this to you?”

      “Because I have the kind of face that makes people want to open up?” Why was he being so damn flirty? It was as if he couldn’t stop the asinine comments from flying out. But she’d caught him off guard, looking like that. Plus, she was much more down-to-earth and endearing when she rambled on about nothing.

      “Your face is perfect. It’s your eyes that make people feel as if they’re strapped to a polygraph machine.” That was an interesting revelation. Did he make her nervous?

      “So you like my face?” He reached up to stroke his trademark beard, then remembered he’d shaved it several months ago when he’d moved to Sugar Falls. Instead he touched a bristly jawline that felt like eighty-grit sandpaper.

      “I’m not going to answer that.” But he could tell by the blush rising up from her neckline that she probably liked his appearance more than she wanted to admit. An alarm bell went off inside his brain. And then, as if she’d heard the same warning, she straightened her back and crossed her arms, her haughty stance effectively putting him back in his place. “What are you doing here?”

      “I’m here for the...” He stopped. Kane couldn’t very well tell her he came as a guest to help boost troop morale. That might give away his celebrity status.

      “I’m here for a meeting,” Kane finally said, then shifted his drink in his hands again and prayed she wouldn’t look at the big Psychology Department sign behind him.

      She looked, and he saw her green eyes become round with realization.

      “Therapy is nothing to be ashamed of,” she said, surprising him. No, he didn’t suppose it was, for a brain doctor like her. The only thing he was embarrassed of was the fact that he’d called this uptight, intelligent woman darlin’ and that she might connect the dots and figure out who he really was. Assuming she hadn’t already.

      “Oh really?” He seized on her mistake. “Do you go?”

      “As a matter of fact, Aunt Freckles suggested I start talking to a professional about my... Well, that’s not really relevant.”

      Oh boy. The smart doctor had a secret. Besides the fact that she’d been hiding all her sexy curves under those blue scrubs and ugly cardigan sweaters. Now Kane was more than curious about what else the doctor was keeping under wraps.

      “Actually...” She shifted back on her sneakers and stood up straighter. “I’ve been meaning to call you and see how the progress is going on the upstairs bedrooms.”

      Bedrooms. Bedrooms. He tried not to think about the fact that this Lycra-clad woman had just said the word bedrooms to him. “Progress? Well, the flooring is all done in two of them and down most of the hallway. I should have the stairway finished by next Wednesday. I’m still waiting for you to get back to me on those tile samples so I can start the master bathroom. Why?”

      “I was just thinking that with the colder weather approaching, I’d like to move in soon so I can appease my aunt. She’s worried that since I’m living close to work, I don’t have much of a social life and... Sorry. I’m rambling again.”

      “You mean you want to move into the place while it’s still under construction?”

      “I promise I wouldn’t be in your way or anything. I’m usually at the hospital all day and would keep to one bedroom and bathroom upstairs.”

      “Stop saying bedroom,” he muttered.

      “What was that?”

      “I said ‘spraying bedroom.’ As in, I need to use my paint gun to finish spraying the last coat on it. The bathroom will still take at least a week once I order those tiles. But I haven’t even started on the kitchen yet, and your aunt was pretty convinced that you needed a fully functional kitchen before you could move in.”

      Julia sighed. “Aunt Freckles is convinced about a lot of things that I don’t actually need. You should see the liquid eyeliner she bought me so I could practice something called the cat-wing technique.” Kane didn’t reply that Just Julia’s aunt was probably right about the kitchen and most definitely wrong about the eyeliner. Or the fact that he preferred working on empty houses where the pretty and distracting homeowners weren’t coming and going anytime they pleased. Especially if this was her normal after-work attire. “Anyway, I’ll head back to my office now to look over those tile samples, and then we’ll plan on me moving into the house next week.”

      She didn’t wait for his response as she nodded at him, then walked away. Her expensive-looking sneakers squeaked along the pristine hospital floor with each step. He had a feeling brain surgeons—not to mention military officers—were used to telling people what to do and having their orders carried out.

      Apparently the boss lady didn’t understand that Kane Chatterson wasn’t a lower ranked recruit or some unemployed laborer in a small hick town perfectly content to do her bidding. He might not have a bunch of letters after his name, but he had two championship rings and had been on the cover of Sports Illustrated three times. Even if one of those times was a shot taken during Brawlgate and wasn’t the most flattering image.

      No wonder she didn’t have much of a social life, if this was how she talked to people. He definitely