Medical Romance July 2016 Books 1-6. Lynne Marshall

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.

      It seemed like every time she’d trusted someone, they’d broken her heart. Her aunt. The men she’d dated in the past. James.

      His betrayal had been the worst of all of them.

      But he’d gone to bat for her with the board of directors at The Hollywood Hills Clinic. That meant something. He might have founded the medical center, but that didn’t mean he made all its decisions. Still, his support was probably the main reason they’d deigned to back a joint venture with Bright Hope.

      Freya, as part-owner of the clinic, had helped push it through, she had no doubt. But James was the driving force, the one who’d made sure it happened. Who’d helped make sure disadvantaged children and their parents got the help they needed.

      And the fact that she’d just wiped any trace of a smile off his face made her feel sick. When had she turned into such a shrew?

      Bracing herself for the impact, she set her fork down and reached across to touch his hand.

      “You’ve given back plenty, James. I remember you working on that little boy whose face had been damaged in that car—”

      “I don’t do that kind of work anymore.” If anything, his jaw tightened even more. “I’ve gone back to traditional practice, leaving post-traumatic facial reconstruction to...other doctors.”

      She sat back in her seat, shock washing over her. He was a gifted plastic surgeon so traditional practice had to mean that he...

      She truly was a fool. A fool who’d once hoped James would join her on her treks to other countries, helping those who’d been disfigured, either through birth or through some kind of violent act. So had he only pretended to be interested in those things?

      Evidently. Until he’d lost interest in her. Those long intimate conversations about the future and the good they could do together had meant nothing.

      Nothing.

      So why had he even tried to help Bright Hope get a foothold in the Los Angeles community and beyond?

      It had to be because of Freya.

      Mila had allowed herself to hope that maybe...just maybe James remembered their time together fondly and had used the funding from his clinic to show her that.

      The waiter had set their dinner plates in front of them at some point, without Mila really paying attention to anything except James. The thought of eating now made her gut churn.

      Maybe he read something in her face. Maybe he’d just realized how his words had sounded, because he leaned forward a bit, snagging her gaze with his.

      “I’m happy about what you do, Mila. Glad there are still people like you in the world.” A muscle in his throat worked. “I’m just not one of them. Those cases, they...”

      He shook his head, not finishing his sentence.

      “They bother you?”

      Was that it? He couldn’t bear to look at what humans could do to each other?

      “Yes. They bother me.” And this time Mila swore she saw a glimmer of something in his face. Compassion. Or maybe anger. She really couldn’t tell. But it beat that blank mask he tended to wear.

      Except for in those pictures. Then it had slipped when she wasn’t looking. The camera had been watching, though, and it had caught him in the act.

      Only Mila had no idea what any of it meant.

      “They bother me too, James, but someone has to help them.”

      “I know.” He lifted a shoulder. “It just can’t be me. Not anymore.”

      “Why?”

      The muscle in his jaw went back to its rhythmic pulse. “I’m just not cut out for it. I do better with the celebrities and socialites, like my parents. We come from the same world. We understand each other.”

      She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

      “Believe it. It’s true.” He picked up his fork and cut into his thick slab of steak. “Don’t let your food get cold. Très Magnifique does a wonderful job.”

      Mila had ordered beef tips with mushrooms over pasta. Spearing a bite-sized piece of meat, she tried to figure out what was going on with him. Only she was no good at reading this man. Not anymore. Maybe not even when they’d been together, since she’d been so sure he’d been as happy as she had.