woman with gorgeous long hair, smiled. “May I help you?”
“I have an appointment with Mitchell Maitland.”
“And you are?”
Darcy took off her glasses and tucked them in her purse. “Darcy Taylor,” she said, keeping her voice low so only the receptionist could hear.
The receptionist, who looked to be around the same age as Darcy, blinked in surprise, then turned to the woman holding the Vogue. There, on the cover, was Darcy Taylor, wearing a new Gautier, her hair piled extravagantly on top of her head, her makeup exaggerated and perfected with airbrushing and computer manipulation.
“I’ll call Dr. Maitland, Ms. Taylor.”
Darcy smiled. “Thank you.” She didn’t sit down. It was better to stand and wait. Not just because she didn’t want to be recognized, but because the moment the receptionist picked up the phone, Darcy’s heart started pounding in her chest. She felt her pulse throb and her chest tighten. Her face felt cold, and so did her hands.
She realized right then that she’d made a terrible mistake. What had she been thinking? Of all the doctors in the world, why on earth had she picked him? He might have a reputation for being the best in his field, but surely there were other terrifically competent doctors she could have chosen. Doctors who hadn’t kissed her in fourth grade. Doctors who hadn’t broken her heart.
“He’ll be right down, Ms. Taylor.”
Darcy nodded, suddenly unable to speak, her mouth had gone so dry. She grabbed a mint from the desk and got the wrapper off a millisecond before she shoved the candy in her mouth. A moment later, she was able to concentrate on her breathing. On calming herself using techniques she’d learned in front of the camera.
He was an old friend, that’s all. Someone she’d known once upon a time. Of course he was the logical choice to help her. Why not? He’d probably forgotten all about how she’d left. Why wouldn’t he?
Many bridges had been crossed since those long-ago school days. He’d gone on to fulfill his dream of becoming a doctor. She’d gone on to fulfill her mother’s dream of becoming a model.
And now, with almost scary synchronicity, she’d come home to fulfill her own dream. To do the one thing she wanted most in the world.
She was going to have a child.
Her hand went to her stomach, and she tried to imagine a life inside her, but her imagination wasn’t good enough. What she could picture was her belly growing, her body changing. Scary stuff. But not as scary as a future without a baby.
The muted ding of an elevator made her look up. The doors hissed open and there, in a white coat that came down to his knees, dark blue jeans and a white shirt with a Garfield necktie, stood Mitchell Maitland.
She knew him instantly, even though she hadn’t seen him in years. He had the same unruly dark hair. The same inquisitive green eyes. The same Maitland nose. But he’d developed a few things since she’d seen him last, like those wide shoulders and all that height—he’d been shorter than she was when she’d left. Now he stood several inches above her six feet.
Her gaze moved down his body, seeing everything, every detail. His long, lean legs. The beeper at his belt. The stethoscope tucked into his coat pocket.
When she reached his tennis shoes, she smiled. He’d worn tennis shoes to everything from gym class to church.
“Hey, Taylor,” he said, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.
She raised her eyes as he approached. “Hey, Maitland,” she said, the old greeting soothing her fears.
“I didn’t believe it,” he said. “I figured it was some other Darcy Taylor.”
“I came by to see Beth but I told her not to mention it. You look great by the way,” she said, meaning it.
It was Mitchell’s turn to give her the once-over. His gaze traveled over her khaki jumper, down to her woven sandals, then up again. It shouldn’t have bothered her in the least. God knows, she’d been looked at enough in her life. But she couldn’t remember wanting anyone’s approval as fiercely as she wanted his.
He smiled. His crooked grin did something to her insides, made her wish she could turn back time. “You’re still the prettiest girl I ever knew.”
She took three steps, right into his arms. Into a hug so tight it was a little hard to breathe. She didn’t care. For the first time in years, she felt safe. She’d been a fool not to call him before. She could have had years of incredible hugs, years of a friendship that had nothing to do with her looks or her money or the covers of magazines.
His hand moved down her back, pressing her closer, making her aware that this wasn’t the same boy she’d known all those years ago. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned against the man he was now. The hundred questions that had been on the tip of her tongue seconds ago seemed unimportant. She was home. Back in a world that had brought her more pain and more joy than any she’d experienced since. And most of that joy had been centered around Mitchell Maitland.
When he finally pulled back she met his gaze. Many things had changed in the years she’d been away, but the kindness, the curiosity, the warmth in those green eyes hadn’t.
“Shall we go upstairs?”
She nodded.
Mitch turned to lead her to his office, then glanced at Elaine behind the receptionist’s desk. Her mouth hung open as she stared blatantly. He knew it wasn’t because Darcy was a celebrity—too many celebrities had walked through these doors to rattle Elaine’s cage. Her bewilderment came from the fact that Darcy Taylor had hugged him. Stodgy, practical, stick-in-the-mud Doc Maitland. He had to admit he enjoyed the look of shock on her face. It felt good to surprise someone for a change.
But then his gaze went to Darcy, and Elaine was instantly forgotten. Darcy took up every bit of his attention. Just getting used to the idea that she was really here was proving quite a task.
He led her to the elevator, and as they waited, he tried twice to ask her questions, only to get flustered each time. There were too many questions, that was the problem. Questions he’d rehearsed a hundred times before, just in case he ever ran into her again.
“Mitch?”
“Yes?”
“I think you have to press the button if we actually want the elevator to come.”
He felt heat rush to his cheeks as he leaned over to press the up button. It occurred to him that the last time he’d blushed, he’d been fifteen years old. Darcy had tripped on a piece of wood on the high school football field, and when she’d fallen, her dress had flown up, revealing a pair of tiny pink lacy underpants. He’d had an immediate, embarrassing, nearly life-threatening erection, and instead of helping her to her feet, he’d run as fast as he could to the boys’ locker room.
She hadn’t spoken to him for two days, for which he’d been grateful, since he seemed unable to control himself when he got anywhere near her. God, he’d wanted her. Was there ever again such an acute need as that of a fifteen-year-old boy for his first love?
How he’d loved her. More than school,
