Only Yours (Fool's Gold #5)(31)

Montana considered the question. “He’s very solitary. Fierce when it comes to his work and his patients, but otherwise, he’s quiet. He doesn’t talk about himself. If my mother couldn’t get him to talk, then even a professional CIA operative would have trouble extracting information.”

Pia laughed. “That’s true. Denise isn’t obvious about it, but she usually ends up with whatever information she wants.”

“He’s not a traditional loner,” Montana said. “I think of those people as choosing to be by themselves. They prefer their own company. With Simon, I wonder if it’s coming from the outside. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s like it’s imposed on him.” She paused. “He has scars on his face and neck. From a burn. From one side, he’s beyond gorgeous, but from the other…”

“He’s a monster?”

Montana half smiled. “It’s not that bad, but I keep thinking something could be done about the scars. Does he keep them like that to have physical proof for his patients that he knows what they’re going through? Or am I being naive and assuming something that isn’t true? But what happened to him? He’s never said and I don’t know how to ask.”

She paused, only to find Pia staring at her.

“What?”

“Wow.” Pia grinned. “You’ve fallen for him.”

Heat exploded on her cheek and she ducked her head. “Don’t say that. I think he’s interesting. It’s nothing more than that.”

“It’s a whole lot more than that.”

It was the kisses, she thought. How was she supposed to ignore them?

“Even if he was my type, I’m sure not his.” So far she’d managed to avoid being anyone’s type.

“Why? From what you’ve described, you might be exactly what someone like him needs. But I won’t embarrass you by talking about it anymore. Let me think about different ways to convince the good doctor to stay in town. Does he have any family?”

Montana stared at her blankly. “Family?”

“You know. Kids. I’m assuming there isn’t a wife.”

“Not that I know of,” Montana told her, even as the W word bounced in her head. A wife? He’d never said and she’d never thought to ask. “He’s never mentioned anything.” He’d more than hinted he was alone. But still. A wife?

It was a question that needed an answer very, very soon.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMON WAS IN HIS OFFICE when he heard the page. He called down to the nurses’ station.

“Montana Hendrix would like to see you, if you have a second.”

The anticipation was instant. A tightening in his body, a rush of heat. He quietly cleared his throat before speaking. “Please send her here,” he said, then hung up the phone and stood.

His office was on the small side, with a desk, a couple of chairs and a mostly empty bookcase. He wasn’t on staff, so he didn’t deal with a lot of paperwork beyond his patient charts. The hospital had provided a computer and printer. He didn’t need much more.

Now, as he looked around at the stark room, he wished it were some color other than plain white, with a picture on the wall or a plant in the corner. Something to make it seem less institutional.

He told himself he was being an idiot. Whatever Montana wanted to talk about, it had nothing to do with his office. No doubt she wanted to discuss bringing a pony into the hospital, or perhaps juggling monkeys. Whatever it was, he would listen. Hearing her discuss a tax audit would be appealing. He liked the sound of her voice, the way she moved her hands when she talked. He liked the flashes of emotion in her brown eyes and the way she always seemed on the verge of smiling.

She was alive in every sense of the word. Alive and vibrant, and she saw a world filled with possibilities. No one had hurt her, not in a way that had left her broken. He found himself wanting to stand between her and reality, to make sure that didn’t change.

He crossed to the door and held it open. A few seconds later Montana turned the corner. She’d replaced her customary summer dresses with jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Both hugged the shape of her body, showing off curves and making it more difficult than usual for him to maintain any semblance of control.

Her long blond hair hung down her back in a cascade of waves, making him want to tangle his fingers in the silky smoothness. Her smile both pleased and taunted him. He wanted to know the feel of every inch of her. He wanted to know her because in the knowing he believed he would find solace.

“Hi,” she said as she approached. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“If you were, I wouldn’t have had the nurse send you to my office.” He motioned for her to step into his office, then followed her. He was careful to leave the door partially open. Perhaps knowing that people could see in would allow him to maintain his distance.

She stopped in the center of the room and turned to face him. Her brown eyes danced with amusement. “You’re not a big believer in social niceties are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that if you were busy, you wouldn’t have seen me. You don’t have to say it.”

“What’s wrong with saying it? It’s the truth.”

She laughed. “I know, but my comment about hoping I wasn’t interrupting was—”