and Abbie might look alike, but their personalities were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Jess was the socially awkward one, the one who had trouble forming and keeping deep friendships, while Abbie was vivacious and outgoing, able to charm anyone she came in contact with. And her sister always got what she wanted.
And what she’d wanted was the very thing Jess had always dreamed of having. A place where she lived in no one else’s shadow … where she truly belonged. At one time she’d equated that with having her own home and family.
When that possibility had been ripped away, she’d thrown herself into her job, doing all she could for her patients and their little ones. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was too dedicated. Looking at her tiny new niece had made her stomach churn with a longing she’d all but forgotten.
This was Abbie’s fourth baby.
Jess had none. And no prospects of a serious relationship or any children in the near future.
She picked up her glass of wine, swirling the liquid to block the direction of her thoughts. Conversation. That was what she needed. Racking her brain, she tried to think of something that would break the growing silence. Something witty. Something that would make her feel a little less dull. Dean’s eyes were now on her, a slight furrow forming between his brows.
Say something!
“I’ve never been here before. Do you come here often?”
Oh, no! Why had she asked that, of all things? A few seconds of silence followed the question before he spoke.
“Often enough.”
His jaw tightened a fraction.
This was definitely where he brought his women.
His women?
She crinkled her nose at that thought. Wow, she was really outdoing herself tonight. Worse, what if someone she knew was here? She sank a little lower in her seat, taking a sip of wine and swallowing it. “Really? It’s my very first time.”
Dean, who’d been in the process of lifting his glass to his lips, stopped with it midway to its goal. The furrow between his brows deepened, then he gave his head a slight shake as if clearing it and took a drink. A good-sized one if the movement of his throat was any indication.
Did he think she was flirting with him? She hoped not, because if he did, there was no telling what he might—
“What are you thinking about?”
Caught!
“My niece.”
Those words brought her back to earth with a bump. Her niece’s situation was the only reason she was sitting here in this restaurant.
Could the newborn sense the antagonism flowing between her and her sister, even in the SCBU? Abbie hadn’t spoken to her since the baby’s delivery, despite her mother’s attempts at playing peacemaker.
Poor Mum. Some anniversary this had turned out to be.
He set his wine down. “You said it was your fault. You know that’s not true.”
“Abbie and I were in the middle of a row. She went into labor. If I’d just walked away …”
Would the outcome have been any different? Abbie had been bound and determined to have her say.
But surely Jess could have changed the direction of the conversation. Maybe. Her sister had always known exactly which buttons to push—which insecurities to choose—to get her going. Today had been no exception.
“Coincidence.”
“Really? Stress can induce labor—you know that as well as I do.” She paused a beat and then let the rest of it out. “She thought I was sending suggestive texts to her husband.”
That got a reaction. Dean’s eyes narrowed just a touch. “Were you?”
“No!” She fiddled again with the corner of her serviette. “I mean, Martin and I were engaged at one time, but once he saw Abbie—”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Instead of pressing her for details, Dean chuckled.
That shocked her. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Well, not funny exactly. So your sister had her eye on your fiancé, and now that she has his ring on her finger, she’s worried you might want him back.”
That was it in a nutshell. It had been six years, but Abbie just couldn’t let it go. It was one of the reasons Jess had moved to Cambridge in the first place, to get away from the constant haranguing and jealous questioning.
“I don’t want him. At all.”
“I can well imagine.”
Which brought her back to the current dilemma. “I have no idea how to make her believe me.”
The conversation paused when the waiter brought their food. Curried chicken with rice and vegetables served family style. Before she could lift a finger, Dean had taken her plate and dished up some of the fragrant food. Too bad she didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment.
Once Dean had served himself, he had no problem picking up where they’d left off. “So you think your sister is going to keep accusing you of trying to steal her husband … aka your ex.”
Using her fork, she speared a piece of chicken. “She lives in London, so, once she goes back, I’m hoping it’ll die back down. Or that Martin will be able to convince her we’re not communicating behind her back.”
“Mmm … I see.” He popped a bite into his mouth and chewed. Swallowed.
Why was she even telling him any of this? And what was with her watching the man’s throat? It had to be the way that sharp edge of his Adam’s apple dipped, causing her eyes to want to follow it. All the way down to his … She jerked her eyes back to his face.
Dean continued. “No current love interest to throw her off the trail?”
“No.” She hurriedly stuffed a piece of food into her mouth, even as she felt her face heat all over again. If he only knew how true those words were, he would think she was a complete washout when it came to the opposite sex.
In fact, the two of them should not even be having this conversation. She barely knew the man.
But what she did know of him … He was rumored to have a revolving bedroom door. Women in … women out. Swish, swish, swish turned that door.
“What if you did?” he murmured.
“Excuse me?”
He smiled at that. “You’re not going to turn that cute little glare back on, are you?”
“Excuse … I mean, what?”
“That’s
