Melting the Argentine Doctor's Heart / Small Town Marriage Miracle by Meredith Webber / Jennifer Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

me? For having ignored my letters and left me with a child to bring up on my own? Believe me, Jorge, I was over that a long time ago.’
    ‘So why come now?’
    She opened her mouth to tell the truth—to say she’d read about the extent of his injuries, seen his photo, seen the scars, and knowing him had guessed he’d pushed her away deliberately, believing her pity would be more hurtful than the pain of losing love.
    But that would be tantamount to admitting she still loved him, and from his reaction to her arrival any love he’d ever felt for her was long gone.
    So she told a lie, well, a partial lie, following right on the heels of the one where she was over the hurt he’d caused a long time ago …
    ‘I could afford it now,’ she said. ‘Suddenly I had the money to take time off work and travel. Letters hadn’t worked so I decided maybe seeing Ella would persuade you to become involved in her life.’
    ‘You had no money before? You always worked? And how did you manage when Ella was a baby? Did you not breastfeed her? ‘
    Well, as a diversion for his grumpiness it had certainly worked, but grumpy didn’t begin to describe how the switch in conversation and those rude questions had made
her
feel.
    ‘It was before my father found me and made up for twenty-eight years of neglect by leaving me his money,’ she snapped. ‘I
had
to work to keep us but, yes, I was breastfeeding. My mother, when she was in remission, cared for Ella. It’s not that hard these days to freezepouches of milk so there was a supply for Ella during the day.’
    She gave him a glare she hoped was as cold as the pouches of frozen milk, mainly because his probing had reawoken the guilt she still felt at not being able to spend more time with both her baby and her ailing mother.
    He’d been leaning against his desk and now he stepped towards her and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her—maybe even kiss her—though that, of course, was nothing more than wishful thinking.
    As it turned out, he stopped just out of touching distance and said quietly, ‘I do regret not being there to help you. I regret not opening the letter that would have told me of the child.’
    And because her body had tensed for the kiss—as if!—she snapped again.
    ‘Her name is Ella! It shouldn’t be too hard for you to remember. And now it’s getting late—it’s been a big day. I need to sort out food, rescue Mima from her, and get her bathed and into bed.’
    Now he did touch her, catching her arm as she spun away from him, the abrupt halting of her movement spinning her back so she landed up against his body.
    His body—as hard as she remembered it—solid, chunky almost, the kind of body that would be a bulwark against anything the world could throw at her.
    But that had been then, when she’d believed their love so great their souls had joined.
    One slight move now and their lips would join. The air grew thick and still between them, desire throbbing in her body, a moment in time, stretching, stretching toforever—then he steadied her and stepped away, going behind his desk, sitting down, looking at the note Juan had made about the boy.
    Had she imagined the shift in the atmosphere when he’d touched her? Imagined it because she’d have liked to think their mutual attraction still existed?
    ‘I must find Ella,’ she muttered, and backed out of the room, only to remember something and have to return. ‘I didn’t speak to the boy’s mother about future bee stings or the danger they could be to him. Will you talk to her about having something on hand if he’s stung again? ‘
    Jorge looked up at the woman who hovered in his doorway. A few minutes ago he had nearly kissed her, the impulse brought on by a simple touch—his hand going out to halt her—and now he couldn’t remember why. Something to do with her going shopping? Or had he been about to apologise for something?
    He had no idea because the touch had set fire to something