The Doctor And Mr. Right. Cindy Kirk

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The Doctor And Mr. Right - Cindy Kirk Mills & Boon Cherish

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that what this is about?” Michelle rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall. “Are you trying to hook me up with Gabe Davis?”

      “You have to admit he’s a hunk.” Lexi’s amber eyes sparkled.

      “He’s good-looking enough, I guess,” Michelle reluctantly agreed, hoping the admission didn’t come back to haunt her. “But there’s no chemistry.”

      Michelle pushed from her mind the sizzling shock she’d received less than an hour before when her hand had brushed against his across the hymnal. And all those times during the service when she had only to inhale the spicy scent of his cologne for her heart to pick up speed. Of course, glancing back at Gabe’s daughter—his teenage daughter—was all it took for her heart to return to normal rhythm.

      “Oh.” Lexi’s hopeful expression fell. “No chemistry at all?”

      “’Fraid not.” Thank God she wasn’t Pinocchio or her nose would be a foot long by now.

      “His loss.” Lexi’s face brightened. “I’ll find someone else for you.”

      “Don’t bother.” Michelle pulled a tube of gloss from her bag and applied some to her lips. “Remember, I’ve sworn off men.”

      Lexi fluffed her dark hair with the tips of her fingers, then smiled. “Honey, that’s just until we find you the right one.”

       Chapter Three

      Out of the corner of his eye Gabe saw Michelle enter the bar and grill on the edge of downtown Jackson. It seemed in every town there was always one person he was destined to run into again and again. In Jackson Hole, he was lucky enough for that person to be a pretty female doctor.

      Gabe grabbed a handful of mixed nuts from the bar and watched Michelle glide across the room. She exuded confidence. It was as much a part of her as her bright smile.

      “Gabe.”

      He turned toward the sound of his name and saw Nick Delacourt at the far end of the curved bar. Dressed in a dark suit, the family law attorney looked as if he’d come straight from court. Gabe lifted a hand in greeting.

      Nick started toward him but didn’t get far before someone stopped him. In the past fifteen minutes the microbrewery hosting the Jackson After-Hours event had exploded with people. Gabe was glad he’d taken off work a little early. It had given him time to shower and change into a pair of khakis and a green polo with the Stone Craft logo.

      Although Gabe had been brought on as a project manager, Joel had made it clear if their business and work styles meshed, he’d have the chance to buy into the company. That meant, what was good for Stone Craft Builders was good for him.

      Tonight was Gabe’s opportunity to get to know the movers and shakers of Jackson Hole. And for them to get to know him.

      Building a client base was all about relationships. That’s why breakfast on Sunday had been important. But it wasn’t only business. Gabe genuinely liked the couples who’d been at the table.

      “I have a question for you.” Tripp Randall, the administrator for the Jackson Hole hospital, returned to the bar.

      Like Nick, Tripp wore a suit. But the administrator had already loosened his tie and unfastened a couple of buttons. Since Gabe had last seen him, he’d also ditched his suit jacket.

      With disheveled blond hair and scruff on his chin, Tripp looked as if he should be playing a guitar in a coffeehouse rather than running the area’s largest hospital.

      Gabe took a sip of beer. “Ask away.”

      “Have you overseen the construction of many stables?”

      It wasn’t a question Gabe had anticipated, but he quickly rallied. “Not really, but the great thing about Stone Craft is we can be counted on to do excellent work on any project we take on.”

      “The company does have a good reputation.” Tripp finished off his beer and glanced around the crowded room. “Where’s Joel? I thought he’d be here.”

      “Chloe had a dance recital.” Even though normally Gabe wouldn’t share such personal information, everyone knew Joel’s family was his priority. The desire to spend more time with them had been behind his bringing Gabe on board. Especially because Joel’s wife, Kate, had recently given birth to a baby boy.

      Family was Gabe’s priority, too. That’s why working with Joel had been such a good fit.

      “Can I get you another draw?” The bartender slid a napkin in front of Gabe.

      Gabe shook his head. He’d make the now half-filled glass in front of him last all evening. Since becoming a father he’d lived a disciplined life, knowing the importance of setting a good example for his daughter. He returned his attention to Tripp. “I didn’t realize you had horses.”

      “My dad owns a cutting horse and cattle operation. I know he had trouble with response times from a previous contractor he used.” Tripp accepted another beer from the bartender. “If you’re interested in bidding, I can put you in touch with his foreman who can give you the specs.”

      “I’ll speak with Joel tomorrow to see what projects we have lined up. But if we can make it work, we’d definitely be interested.” Gabe kept any eagerness from his voice. After all, appearing desperate was never good. “What size of stable are you looking—”

      “Michi,” Tripp called out. “Over here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

      Mee-shee, Gabe thought, what kind of name is that?

      He turned his head and there she was…again.

      Gabe met her gaze and unsuccessfully fought to keep a smile from his lips. “Michi?”

      “It’s a nickname.” Michelle shifted her gaze to the hospital administrator who’d just looped an arm around her shoulders in a familiar manner. “One you don’t have permission to use, Tripp Randall.”

      The words might have been light, but the look in her eyes said she was serious.

      “I didn’t know permission was required,” Tripp replied with an easy smile. “Adrianna calls you that all the time.”

      Adrianna. Gabe thought back to yesterday’s conversation with Michelle. Adrianna was the nurse-midwife in Michelle’s practice.

      “She’s my friend,” Michelle responded.

      Tripp brought a hand to his chest in a movement more suitable for the stage. “And I’m not?”

      Michelle glanced upward as if looking to the heavens for assistance. But her gaze quickly returned to the administrator as if realizing there were only heating and cooling ducts in the microbrewery’s ceiling. “Of course we’re friends. But no, you can’t call me Michi. I have an image to uphold in this community.”

      “You’re thinking what?” A teasing glint lit Tripp’s blue eyes. “Women won’t want their baby delivered by someone called Michi?”

      “Something

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