Скачать книгу

She gave him her most nonchalant smile, hoping it disguised just how intense she was finding all of this. The penetrating looks. The pointed questions. The downright yumminess of him. The last time someone had had this visceral effect on her... Oof... She shuddered as she felt Max’s dark eyes continue to bore into her.

      ‘Why do I need formal wear for a conference call?’

      ‘It’s for the Christmas ball. You’re req—’ She stopped herself from saying required. She didn’t like being bossed around and had the very clear impression he didn’t either. ‘It’s really useful if the founder of the charity comes along and speaks with the donors.’

      ‘Schmooze, you mean.’ A flash of a smile appeared. ‘You might want to reconsider that. It’s not really my forte.’

      ‘So I noticed,’ she said dryly.

      He laughed and once again that strangely comfortable feeling she got from banter with him made the day seem a bit less cold.

      ‘I can pick any patients I want?’ He asked.

      ‘Doctor’s choice.’ She nodded. ‘The harder the better.’

      Her eyes dropped to just below his waist.

      Oh, good grief.

      Work. She should think of work. Work was not sexy. Complicated patients to match to hard-working service dogs. Also not sexy. Big brothers. They definitely weren’t sexy. Work, complicated patients and big brothers. Okay. Her heart rate began to decelerate. She liked bringing in clients Charles knew nothing about. He was far too serious for his own good and this was her annual chance to pop a little spontaneity into his life. And her own.

      She followed his gaze as it drifted across to the hospital, his mind obviously spinning with options.

      She got the feeling he was going to test her. Good. Maybe this would be the year that signing over the proceeds from the charity ball gave her back that magical feeling she’d lost all those years ago when her brother had been killed in action, she’d married a hustler and just about everything else in her life had imploded.

      ‘You’re not going to bend on the Christmas ball thing, are you?’ A smile teased at the corners of his mouth.

      ‘Nope!’ She grinned. ‘And let me know if you don’t have a tuxedo. You’ll need one for the ball.’ She gave him what she hoped was a neutral top-to-toe scan. ‘You’d probably fit into one of my brother’s if you don’t have one. I’m sure we could stuff socks in the shoulders if you don’t fill it out.’

      What was she on? He’d make a fig leaf look good. Which was an image she really shouldn’t let float around her head quite as gaily as it was.

      ‘If I go formal, I wear a kilt, thank you very much.’

      A kilt! Yum. She had a weakness for a Scotsman in formal kilted attire. Her brain instantly started undressing and redressing him. What she saw she liked very much. Too much. Was it too late to uninvite him to the ball as well?

      Yes. Yes, it was. Besides, as much as seeing Max Kirkpatrick in a kilt could very well tip her into the danger zone of dating outside her brother’s ‘pre-approved’ choices...she needed him. The donors loved hearing about the charities from the founder.

      ‘A kilt will do very nicely,’ she said primly.

      He gave her a sharp sidelong glance as if he’d been following her complicated train of thought, then took a step back and said, rather formally for someone who’d just been flinging about witty banter, ‘In which case, Ms Ross-Wylde, I’d be delighted to accept your offer to participate in two phone calls and the ball.’

      It was a pointed comment. One that made it clear he’d understood loud and clear she hadn’t asked him up to Heatherglen. A wash of disappointment swept through Esme so hard and fast she barely managed to keep her smile pinned in place as she rejigged her vision of what the next few weeks held in store. Training patients. Absolutely normal. The hectic build-up to Christmas. Ditto. The Christmas carnival being set up out at the front of the castle that would, once again, be a good opportunity to practise with the dogs and their handlers.

      It was ridiculous of her to have imagined for as much as a second that she might finally make good on that fantasy to skate by moonlight, hand in hand, with someone who genuinely liked her for herself. Let alone share a starlit kiss.

      ‘Delightful.’ Brisk efficiency was the only way she’d get out of this garden with a modicum of her dignity intact. She called Skye to her side. ‘We’ll expect them on the fifteenth and you on the twenty-third in Glasgow.’

      She turned and gave a wave over her shoulder so he wouldn’t see the smile drop from her lips.

      Stupid, stupid girl. The last time she’d let her heart rule her actions she’d ended up humiliated and alone. She’d been a fool for letting herself think that Max Kirkpatrick could be the one who would bring that sparkle of joy back into Christmas.

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4QAYRXhpZgAASUkqAAgAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP/sABFEdWNreQABAAQAAABQAAD/4QN7aHR0cDov L25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wLwA8P3hwYWNrZXQgYmVnaW49Iu+7vyIgaWQ9Ilc1TTBNcENl aGlIenJlU3pOVGN6a2M5ZCI/PiA8eDp4bXBtZXRhIHhtbG5zOng9ImFkb2JlOm5zOm1ldGEvIiB4 OnhtcHRrPSJBZG9iZSBYTVAgQ29yZSA1LjAtYzA2MSA2NC4xNDA5NDksIDIwMTAvMTIvMDctMTA6 NTc6MDEgICAgICAgICI+IDxyZGY6UkRGIHhtbG5zOnJkZj0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMTk5 OS8wMi8yMi1yZGYtc3ludGF4LW5zIyI+IDxyZGY6RGVzY3JpcHRpb24gcmRmOmFib3V0PSIiIHht bG5zOnhtcE1NPSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvbW0vIiB4bWxuczpzdFJlZj0i aHR0cDovL25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wL3NUeXBlL1Jlc291cmNlUmVmIyIgeG1sbnM6eG1w PSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvIiB4bXBNTTpPcmlnaW5hbERvY3VtZW50SUQ9 IjkwRDgyMkUxQzk1QkE1QTQ0NTQ4NUQ0NEVCQUJGQkYwIiB4bXBNTTpEb2N1bWVudElEPSJ4bXAu ZGlkOkM4RDREMENEQTYzNDExRTk5RkMzRjA3OEQ3MzA2RENBIiB4bXBNTTpJbnN0YW5jZUlEPSJ4 bXAuaWlkOkM4RDREMENDQTYzNDExRTk5RkMzRjA3OEQ3MzA2RENBIiB4bXA6Q3JlYXRvclRvb2w9 IkFkb2JlIFBob3Rvc2hvcCBDUzUuMSBNYWNpbnRvc2giPiA8eG1wTU06RGVyaXZlZEZyb20gc3RS ZWY6aW5zdGFuY2VJRD0ieG1wLmlpZDo0NzY3NUNGMzlGMjU2ODExODcxRkEwRDJCMTFDOTkxQyIg c3RSZWY6ZG9jdW1lbnRJRD0iYWRvYmU6ZG9jaWQ6cGhvdG9zaG9wOjdhZjJhNTI5LTdhOWUtZDI0 Ny1hMmYyLTJiYjkxNWI0ZGYwZiIvPiA8L3JkZjpEZXNjcmlwdGlvbj4gPC9yZGY6UkRGPiA8L3g6 eG1wbWV0YT4gPD94cGFja2V0IGVu

Скачать книгу