he could get up without falling flat on his face!
‘He’s at home,’ Ethan said abruptly, angry at the direction of his thoughts.
For God’s sake, he was lucky she hadn’t slapped him in the face. Clearly he wasn’t thinking straight. Clearly he was just too damn tired to be facing ghosts tonight.
Olivia frowned. ‘Oh …’
But … she’d called Leo the moment they’d landed and they’d arranged it. She delved around inside her bag for her mobile phone, pulling it out. Immediately she noticed two missed calls and a text—all from Leo.
Apologies. Something came up. Get Ethan up to speed and you can catch me up tomorrow.
‘Something came up,’ Olivia said, looking from the phone to Ethan as she relayed the text.
Ethan grunted as a rather unpleasant thought occurred to him. Leo had texted him during surgery, asking him to familiarise himself with Ama’s chart—on his desk—before the morning. Had Leo set this up so he and Olivia could get their first meeting over and done with in private—to give them room and privacy to clear the air?
His relationship with his brother was the best it had been in years, but he didn’t appreciate being manipulated like this.
‘I bet it did,’ Ethan said dryly.
Olivia put her phone back in her bag. ‘He wants me to get you up to speed.’
Ethan had sometimes forgotten, just looking at her, that Olivia was Australian. Her flawless peaches and cream complexion seemed eminently English, and it was only when she opened her mouth and the flat Aussie drawl came out that he remembered. That and the opal ring she still wore on the middle finger of her right hand—a gift from her parents for her eighteenth birthday.
‘No time like the present,’ he agreed grimly.
If Leo had set them up then it would be foolish not to use the time wisely.
‘Come in.’ He gestured, suddenly realising she was still standing just inside the doorframe. ‘Take a seat.’ He indicated with his head for her to take the one on the other side of Leo’s desk.
Her movements seemed awkward and unsure as she drew closer. She certainly didn’t seem to be in any hurry to reach her destination, and he waited impatiently for her to take her seat, his gaze drifting to the way the denim of her jeans clung to legs still as slender as he remembered.
As she drew level his gaze moved up. Her red turtle-necked skivvy was mostly hidden by the thick navy jacket she was wearing, but it did emphasise the length of her neck to perfection. A neck he’d explored in intimate detail.
Olivia was conscious of his gaze on her as she moved into the room. Heat flared in her belly as she remembered the way he used to look at her—all intensity and wicked, wicked purpose.
Before he broke her heart.
She was thankful for the thick wool of her coat hiding nipples suddenly taking on a mind of their own.
She didn’t have time for recalcitrant nipples.
They were two professionals, working together for the good of a patient. Yes, they had history, but if they kept things collegial, if they kept their focus on Ama, they’d be fine.
She was here to do a job and then get the hell out of Dodge.
She’d been burned by this man before. And fire had already claimed too much of what she’d loved.
Olivia sat, glancing briefly around at Leo’s office. It didn’t appear to have changed much since the days when it had belonged to his father. All dark and masculine—a stark contrast to the bright modern white outside.
Her gaze returned to Ethan and for long moments they just looked at each other. His lids were half shuttered; his gaze was totally guarded. He looked so … distant and she shivered.
He picked up the nearby whisky decanter and splashed some into a glass, silently asking her with a raising of his eyebrow if she wanted any. She shook her head, surprised to see him drinking, knowing how much he’d despised his father for his weakness where the amber liquid was concerned.
Keep it professional, Liv.
‘You’ve changed,’ she blurted out.
And it was nothing to do with the drinking. Ethan’s eyes were the same deep brown as hers, but he had those amazing golden flecks in them that used to glow with fire and passion. He’d been so angry back then that they’d flashed and flared all the time as he’d struggled with his demons—his father’s alcoholism, his mother’s death and what he’d perceived as his brother’s molly-coddling.
But she’d also seen them glow and flash at other times too. At work when he was totally absorbed in a surgery. And in bed …
There was no glow tonight. Just a dull glimpse of what had been. It was as if it had been snuffed out. Suffocated.
What had happened to turn those gorgeous flashing eyes so damn bleak? And his perfect chiselled face so damn gaunt? His severe haircut didn’t help. Nor did the weary lines around his eyes. Not to mention that he needed a shave. His shaggy regrowth looked more salt than pepper at the grand old age of thirty-five.
Was he suffering some kind of PTSD from being blown half to hell during his last tour?
‘You haven’t,’ he said, interrupting her reverie.
It was Olivia’s turned to snort. ‘Yes, I have.’
She’d been through more than her fair share of heartbreak these past ten years, and although she’d come through it stronger it had changed her utterly.
Ethan paused slightly, then acknowledged the truth of it with a nod. She was right. She was more reserved, less carefree. Her gaze was not as open, was more … distant.
Had that been his unforgivable actions or just getting older? Life in general?
Or had something else caused the coolness in her eyes?
‘I just don’t need to resort to whisky to prove it.’
Ethan felt the accusation hit him in the chest with all the power of a sledgehammer.
He threw back the contents of the glass and slammed it down on the desktop. ‘It’s been a long day, Olivia,’ he said, his jaw so tight it felt as if it was going to crumble from the pressure. ‘Surgery is over and I’m off duty. A few glasses of Scotland’s best isn’t going to hurt.’
Olivia had never been one to beat around the bush and she wasn’t about to start now. Clearly something was eating at Ethan—something had snuffed out the light. And, whilst she might not know what it was, she sure as hell knew whisky wasn’t the answer.
‘I’m sure that’s exactly how your father started out.’
ETHAN’S
