Читать книгу: «A Forever Family Collection», страница 13
The words hung in the air. He lifted his finger and touched her cheek. ‘And you know why there were no phone calls, no emails. Not because I didn’t care, Abby. I cared too much. And we both had to move on. I couldn’t do that if I’d seen or spoken to you every day—and it looks like you couldn’t too. You moved here, remember?’
She looked stunned. He was touching her again and the heat from his body was electric, causing ripple effects all over again. She shrugged her shoulders out from under his grasp. ‘I told you to stop touching me,’ she muttered as she turned around and started pulling things from the locker in front of her. ‘Here, put your clothes back on, please.’ She shoved his trousers at him, her hands feeling the expensive fabric beneath her fingers. ‘I guess you didn’t buy these in Target, did you?’
Her eyes fell to the obvious lump in his scrubs. It was still there. It hadn’t disappeared in an instant. After all this time she could still have a long-lasting effect on him. Was that good or bad? ‘Well, hurry up and put them on, maybe they’ll give you a little more coverage.’ She turned and pulled out his now crumpled white shirt and silk red tie, glancing at the labels. ‘You must be Washington’s best-dressed doctor.’
Luke shook his head and grabbed the shirt out of her hands, dropping it on the bench next to him as he pulled his scrub top over his head.
Abby stood frozen to the spot. The last time she’d seen those sun-kissed pecs and abs she’d been all over them. There was something really disconcerting about standing in an enclosed space with a half-dressed man who’d just kissed you. And his cheeky grin was infuriating her. No, really infuriating her.
This was all just a joke to him. He didn’t know how much her stomach was churning. She didn’t even care that the First Lady and her SWOT team were there. Well, maybe that wasn’t strictly true. But the First Lady was a patient, and patients she could deal with. Ex-lovers who’d broken her heart she couldn’t. Especially when they looked like Luke. With his white-blond hair, tanned skin and gleaming teeth he looked as if any minute now an ad company would come running in with their cameras, strap a surfboard to his back and whizz him off to an exotic beach location somewhere for a photo shoot.
She watched as he turned slightly to put his arm in his sleeve. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw something new, a little zigzag scar running across his shoulder blade. Before she had time to even think about it her finger was touching it.
‘That’s new. What happened?’
He stopped, leaving his shirt hanging halfway down his back as the tip of her finger lightly traced the line of the scar. ‘Abby…’
‘What?’ She was mesmerised by the ragged, uplifted skin. Maybe Luke wasn’t so perfect, after all?
Luke took a deep breath and glanced downwards. ‘Stop touching me,’ he growled.
She followed his gaze and pulled her hand back sharply. ‘Oops, sorry.’ She took a few steps and flattened herself against the far wall. She couldn’t touch him from over there. Just as well. She averted her eyes as he stepped out of the flimsy scrubs and into his designer trousers. Well, she tried to move her gaze, but still happened to catch the slightest glimpse of his trademark white tight-fitting shorts. Shorts that left nothing to the imagination, causing her to feel a tingling sensation between her thighs.
‘You’re driving me crazy,’ he growled again.
‘Sorry.’ She turned her back and found herself staring at the wall. Great. She was trapped in an enclosed space with a man she hadn’t seen in five years and all she wanted to do was jump on him. Now she really was acting like a teenager. Who was this Abby Tyler? Time to change the subject.
‘So how did you get the job?’
‘What job?’
‘Working for the President, of course!’
‘Oh, that job.’ She heard him rustling for a moment. ‘You can turn around now.’
Could she? Would he be completely undressed and ready for her? She whipped around. There he was. Fully dressed and still looking good enough to eat. She almost gave a sigh of disappointment. ‘Straighten your tie,’ she said as she pointed at the crooked tie. ‘I’d do it for you but I’m not allowed to touch.’
He gave her a sarcastic smile as he straightened his tie. ‘I don’t really work for the President. I’m just on his list.’
‘What does that mean—on his list?’
Luke shrugged his shoulders. ‘I think they just like to cover all eventualities. I was approached a few years ago and asked if I would be the President’s cardiologist. They ran a huge number of checks on me, with my permission of course, and after a few months came back and explained that they would call if I was needed.’
‘I thought all the President’s doctors were from the military?’
Luke shrugged his shoulders. ‘They usually are. But the military doesn’t cover all areas. The President’s physician is from the military and he’s in charge of the White House medical unit. But some of the other specialists are like me—just called in when, and if, they’re needed. Dr Blair was Jennifer Taylor’s family obstetrician. She brought him with her, because it’s been a long time since the White House needed an obstetrician.’
‘So you’ve never actually met him?’
Luke shook his head. ‘No, and today was the first time I’d met the First Lady too.’
‘And here was me thinking that you were their best friend! I guess it didn’t hurt that you were connected?’
His face darkened. ‘I’d like to think they contacted me because of my professional expertise, rather than the fact my father’s a senator.’
Abby flinched. Well, that was one way to dampen the sexual tension in the room. She should have known better. Luke’s relationship with his father was strained enough, without her insinuating that he’d been given an easy route into a prestigious position. She’d forgotten how much he prickled at the mere mention of his father. ‘I’m sure they did.’ She held open the nearby door, allowing some cool, fresh air into the claustrophobic changing room—just what they both needed—and resisting the temptation to look and see if the telltale bulge in his trousers was under control yet. ‘Are you ready? Let’s go and get you that four-shot coffee you wanted.’
‘Actually, I’m not strictly a four-shot drinker any more. I’ve mellowed.’
Abby choked in disbelief at the words. ‘You? Mellowed? Well, I never thought I’d see the day!’
He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘I might surprise you.’
He grabbed the door and fell into step beside her, his arm draping easily across her shoulders, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was.
She gave him a sideways smile. ‘Luke?’
‘Yeah?’
‘We’re going to have to have some rules about touching…’
CHAPTER THREE
THE canteen was small and informal, nothing like the chaotic and bustling university hospital canteen Luke was used to.
‘Your usual, Abby?’ the assistant called from behind the serving counter.
‘Thanks, Jan.’ She turned and looked at Luke. ‘What would you like?’
Luke resisted the temptation to say what came to mind and looked around, puzzled. The place was immaculate but he couldn’t exactly see what food was on offer. ‘What’s your usual?’
Abby gave a little smile and glanced at her watch. ‘You probably expect me to have something healthy like fruit juice and an apple but, at this time of day, and because nine times out of ten I miss lunch, it’s a latte and one of Jan’s homemade pancakes.’
‘Mmm, that sounds good. I’ll have the same.’
‘Make that two, Jan,’ she shouted over her shoulder.
Luke stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money as two steaming tall latte glasses appeared, followed by two plates with hot pancakes. His stomach growled loudly at the appetising aroma, reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten.
Abby waved her arm. ‘Put your money away— I’ve got a tab.’ She lifted the tray and walked over to a nearby table, sitting down and handing him his latte glass and plate. The canteen was quiet, with only a few other people sitting at the surrounding tables.
Luke leaned over and took a deep breath. ‘Mmm, this smells great. I haven’t had home-made pancakes in years.’
Abby bit her lip. When they’d lived together as medical students home-made pancakes had been one of their Sunday-morning rituals, along with a number of other things… Luke obviously didn’t remember. Maybe reliving the past wasn’t as good as Abby thought it was.
He looked around him. Sunlight was streaming though the nearby window, which overlooked the lush green gardens. The canteen was at the back of the hospital, facing onto the hills. The garden beds were packed with brightly coloured flowers and obviously well tended. The bushes were shaped and trimmed into neat round circles. So instead of feeling deprived of the ocean view, this really was a little piece of paradise.
‘So how long have you worked here, Abby?’
She took a sip of her coffee. ‘For the last five years. I was lucky, I was able to transfer from Washington to San Francisco on my residency programme. And when I got here, the programme included covering shifts down here. They never needed to ask me twice. Once I was qualified, the paediatrician post came up that included coverage down here and I leapt at the chance.’
Luke nodded. Things started slotting into place. She’d transferred almost immediately after they’d broken up. It wasn’t easy to swap residency programmes, so someone must have pulled some strings. He watched as Abby spread butter over her pancake.
‘What, no syrup?’
She shook her head. ‘My tastes have changed— just like yours.’ She pointed to his coffee.
Luke blinked. What did she mean, her tastes had changed? Was that a dig at him? She hadn’t kissed him as though her tastes had changed. She’d kissed him as though they’d never been apart. The silence in the air was heavy between them.
Luke opened his mouth to speak again but she interrupted him.
‘So what have you been doing in Washington? I’ve seen your name on a couple of research papers.’
‘You have?’ His eyes lit up with genuine excitement. His job was his passion. But more than that, she’d obviously been keeping tabs on his work. Why would she do that if she wasn’t interested? ‘Well, you’ll have seen I’ve helped in the development and clinical trials of one of the newer types of stents.’
She nodded in appreciation, her mouth now stuffed with pancake.
‘I’ve also been doing some drug trials—some in kids with cardiac conditions. I’ve been working with a paediatrician called Lisa Jones. Do you know her?’
It was all she could do not to choke on her pancake. Abby nodded again. Oh, she knew her all right. Lisa Jones, paediatrician extraordinaire—or so you would believe if you spoke to her. ‘Luscious Lisa’, her friends called her. Along with the motto Never leave your man alone in a room with her. Lisa did most of her best work in the horizontal position, especially around promotion time.
Her eyes were automatically drawn to Luke. With his blond hair, pale blue eyes and surfer-boy build and tan, he would be a prime target for Lisa. Something that made her feel physically sick. She pushed her pancake away.
‘So what exactly has Lisa been doing for you?’
Luke raised his eyebrows at the tone in her voice. ‘She’s been identifying suitable candidates for the study,’ he said pointedly. He bent forward and took a sip of his coffee. ‘I can see you’re obviously not in her fan club.’
‘Show me a woman that is.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s actually really clever and has a good grasp of the research ethics and principles required for drug trials.’
‘That’s not all she usually has a good grasp of.’
Luke put down his glass, a smile creeping across his face. ‘Abby, are you jealous?’
‘Why on earth would I be jealous?’ Right now she would cheerfully pull every one of Luscious Lisa’s mahogany locks from her head if she had a chance. A fist tightened around her heart. What on earth was wrong with her? She hadn’t seen Luke in five years—she had absolutely no right to feel jealous of any relationship he may, or may not, be having. So how come the thought of him playing bedroom hockey with Lisa Jones was driving her insane?
Luke shook his head and reached across the table for her hand. ‘I’ve never seen you so riled up. You’re usually so laid back you’re horizontal.’
‘Just like Lisa?’ The words were out before she had time to think about them.
Her pager sounded loudly, causing both of them to jump. They’d been so caught up in each other that they’d almost forgotten about the situation surrounding them. Luke reluctantly released her hand.
Abby glanced down at the number on her pager attached to her scrubs. She stood up immediately, pushing the chair backwards with a screech. ‘It’s Dr Fairgreaves. He needs to speak to me now.’
Luke stood up, the tell-tale worry lines appearing on his brow instantly. ‘Mind if I tag along?’
‘Not at all.’
They headed out the doors towards the ER. Abby couldn’t shift the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. He hadn’t exactly answered her question. What had Lisa Jones been doing for Luke? And why the hell couldn’t she get thoughts of the two of them out of her mind?
Dr Fairgreaves was sitting in one of the two doctors’ offices in the ER, writing furiously in the First Lady’s notes. He was still wearing his dark green fishing hat over his unruly hair but had donned a more traditional white coat. He leaned back in his chair as Abby and Luke came into the small room.
‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’
They turned and looked at each other for a second, wondering what was coming next.
Dr Fairgreaves continued. ‘The good news is that we don’t have an immediate arrival. But we probably will have at some point in the next four days. The bad news is that she doesn’t want to go back to Washington.’
‘What?’ Luke’s voice went up about ten decibels.
‘Oh, no,’ Abby groaned, and held her head in her hands.
‘What do you mean, she doesn’t want to go back to Washington?’
Dr Fairgreaves smiled at Luke. ‘She’s quite some woman. I’d hate to be up against her in a court of law. I doubt I’d come out alive.’
‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Luke looked around him. ‘There are no facilities here for a premature baby. Maybe if she was thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks, but not at this stage.’
Abby sagged down in a nearby chair. ‘I thought she was going to do this,’ she said quietly.
Luke spun around to face her, his face incredulous. ‘You knew? And you didn’t tell me?’
Abby took a deep breath. ‘She sort of mentioned it. I told her she’d have to discuss it with Dr Fairgreaves.’ She turned to face him. ‘Sorry, David.’
He gave a little smile. ‘Not your fault.’
Luke broke in, ‘This isn’t safe. Not by a long shot. This might not be my specialty but I can’t let this happen. No, we can’t let this happen. What would normally happen in a case like this?’
David Fairgreaves took a deep breath, looking vaguely amused at how wound up Luke was becoming. ‘Actually, you have more responsibility for this than you know. Is it safe to put your patient on a plane right now? Or subject him to a long road transfer?’
‘What? Dr Blair? Of course not. He’s had a significant MI, with angioplasty and stent insertion. He’ll need to stay here for a few days. What’s that got to do with the First Lady?’
‘A lot, actually. She has a great deal of trust in Dr Blair. She doesn’t want to leave him.’
‘Even if that puts her baby at risk?’
‘It doesn’t have to.’
Luke looked stunned. ‘What do you mean? Dr Blair is in no fit state to be consulting with the First Lady right now.’
‘To answer your earlier question, we would normally transfer a lady in Jennifer Taylor’s condition to San Francisco’s Children and Maternity Hospital, where they have excellent neonatal facilities. However, from the First Lady’s perspective, if she goes to San Francisco there will be a huge media circus. It’s a big hospital—you couldn’t possibly hope to contain the news that the First Lady was there, particularly when she’s supposed to be in Washington. But here…’ he pointed out the window at the magnificent ocean view ‘…we have a much better chance of containing the story.’ He glanced down at the notes he had made. ‘As the baby is still under thirty-two weeks, I’ve written her up for some steroids and some antibiotics. Nothing out of the ordinary and we’ll monitor her.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘The health and well-being of my patient comes first. She’s already under enough stress and I won’t add to it.’ He raised an eyebrow at Luke. ‘And I won’t let you add to it either.’ He turned towards Abby and handed her a blank A4 notebook and pen. ‘Make a list.’
‘Of what?’ Her mind was spinning. But she knew he was right. Dr Fairgreaves had seen past the words and bravado and seen a frightened mom-to-be.
‘Everything you need. And everybody you need. Chances are we’ve got between one and four days to plan for this delivery.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘No. I’m deadly serious.’ He waved his arms. ‘It might not be an ideal situation but we can make this a safe environment for the President’s baby to be born in. All we need is the staff and the equipment. It’s only people and things. Moveable objects. Who is the best neonatologist that you know?’
‘Lincoln Adams at San Fran.’ The name rolled off Abby’s tongue without a moment’s hesitation.
‘Then start your list with him.’
‘But what if he won’t come?’
‘He will.’ They all turned to the voice at the door. James Turner was leaning in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. ‘Just make the list, Dr Tyler, and leave the logistics to me.’
She glanced towards Luke, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod. James Turner looked like a quiet force to be reckoned with. Silent but deadly.
She gave a little nod. ‘Give me half an hour, Mr Taylor. I need some peace and quiet to make sure I capture everything I need. You’ll get your list.’
He moved sideways to allow her through the doorway and back out into the ER department. She stopped as she glanced around. ‘My ER department is still open?’ Her voice rose in hopefulness towards the end of the sentence.
‘There haven’t been any arrivals for the last hour, so there haven’t been any problems. We’re just about to move the First Lady. Once we’ve done that, there’ll just be some extra security posted around the building. Your ER department can function as normal.’
‘How about I hang out in the ER while you do that list, Abby?’ Luke stood up from his chair and moved over next to her.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘No probs.’ His hand brushed along her back as she headed out the door, sending more tingles down her skin that seemed to connect with her lips. This was ridiculous. She was a professional with work to do. Not some love-struck teenager. It was time she got back to the business in hand.
‘And, children?’ Both of them turned to David Fairgreaves’s voice. ‘You looked as if you’d been fighting when you came in earlier.’ He folded his arms across his chest and smirked at them. ‘It’s time to kiss and make up, we’ve got work to do— work we need to do together, as a team.’ And he put his head back down and began to write.
Luke sat at the main desk in the ER. Abby had been gone for nearly an hour and a half. The list was obviously taking longer than she thought. So far he’d stitched a finger, pulled a bead out of some kid’s nose and dealt with some mild chest pain.
All of a sudden he had a whole new respect for the work Abby did. Children didn’t co-operate like adults. They made a fuss, or had a tantrum, and generally didn’t do a thing they were told. She had chosen this as her speciality?
He plastered a smile on his face as he heard a thump on the desk. Yes, there she was. The redheaded nurse that had been whispering and pointing at him for the last hour. The last thing that he needed right now.
‘So you’re Dr Storm?’ She smiled as she twiddled a strand of her long red hair.
‘That’s right.’ He wasn’t going to do anything to encourage her.
‘I’m Viv, one of the RNs.’ She crossed her legs in front of him, clearly wanting to accentuate the long shapely limbs.
‘Pleased to meet you, Viv.’
Thump. ‘And I’m Carol.’ A brunette slid along the desk next to Viv. Hadn’t these staff ever heard of sitting on chairs? Great. Two for the price of one.
‘So how do you know Dr Tyler?’ asked Carol curiously.
‘We were med students together in Washington.’
Carol’s brow wrinkled. ‘But Abby trained in San Francisco.’
He smiled. ‘I know that. She started her training with me and transferred a little later.’
Viv moved in for the kill. ‘So you won’t know anyone else here, then?’
‘No, no, I don’t.’
‘So where will you be staying tonight?’
The words were like a bolt out of the blue. Luke hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought. Where was he going to stay tonight? He glanced around, looking for James Turner—maybe he’d already made plans for his staff and included Luke in them?
‘I’m not sure yet. But I think that something will already have been arranged.’ Please let something have been arranged.
‘If you don’t have any plans for tonight, you could come to the hospital barbeque.’
‘What?’
Luke was feeling momentarily distracted. Viv had just leaned forward and was revealing a certain amount of cleavage and he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time a woman had been obvious around him. But here he was definitely out of his comfort zone. He couldn’t walk away and talk to another colleague. He couldn’t make an excuse and go and see to one of his many patients—he’d just checked on Dr Blair and he was sleeping. He didn’t even have an office to go and retreat to. He was feeling like a fly caught in a spider’s web. A red-haired spider’s web.
‘Will Abby be going to the barbeque?’ It seemed like the safest option.
Viv and Carol exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. Carol stretched out her arms and glanced over his shoulder, clearly getting bored with uninteresting Luke. ‘Abby doesn’t usually go anywhere without Reuben,’ she said, before turning on her heel and moving towards the reception doors as a car pulled up outside. ‘Come on, Viv, let’s see what’s arrived.’
Viv shot a little smile at Luke before sliding off the desk and heading to the door.
But Luke had stopped paying attention. He was oblivious. Who was Reuben? He leaned his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands. It had been one hell of a day. He glanced at his watch—it wasn’t even dinnertime yet. It had been eight a.m. when he’d got the call about Dr Blair. He had already been up since six, preparing to go and present a paper at a conference. A paper that was now lying in a crumpled heap in his bag. Seconds after he’d got the call one of the sleek black secret-service cars had pulled up, whisking him away to a helicopter pad bringing him to Pelican Cove and Abby…
Was she living with someone? Engaged? Married? Or maybe even just a boyfriend? After all, why would a girl who looked as good as Abby be single? He slapped himself on the forehead. She’d asked him if he was married when they’d been in the changing room together. After that kiss. But he hadn’t asked her. He hadn’t asked her anything. He’d just assumed.
A chill slipped down his spine. Abby had always wanted a family. It was the reason they were no longer together. She loved kids, she’d wanted to work with them and have a whole brood of them herself. A requirement that Luke couldn’t meet. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to contemplate thoughts of a family. In the end he’d told Abby he just wanted to focus on his career. And kids didn’t fit into that.
He knew he’d broken her heart. She’d asked him to reconsider, told him that somehow they could have beautiful children together, and that had broken his heart even more. Because he didn’t think he’d ever be ready for that. He’d already filled the role of a parent to his brother Ryan—and failed miserably. He just wasn’t cut out for parenthood. Not after what had happened to Ryan. Not after the responsibilities he’d had to shoulder when Ryan had got sick and his parents had continued to spend their time on ‘mercy missions’ overseas or in other parts of the country. When the reality was, they should have been there, acting like parents to their two sons.
And, as much as Abby loved him, she wouldn’t give up her dream of having a family. There had been no tears, no hysteria—that wasn’t Abby’s style. She’d just walked away, literally, into the sunset on top of that Washington hill. When he’d gone back to their apartment a few hours later, she was gone. And the empty drawers and wardrobe had haunted him for weeks.
Suppose Abby had her family now? And the husband to match? Was that who Reuben was, her husband? Although her body seemed unchanged, she could still have a whole brood of children at home. The thought of Abby, with her husband and children, living in her white-picket-fenced house, made his blood run cold. He closed his eyes and tried to pull the memory from his dimly lit mind. Was there a ring on her finger? When they’d been in the changing room and she’d traced her finger along his scar, had there been a ring on that hand? Try as he might, he couldn’t remember. And it was killing him.
‘Dr Storm?’
Luke started to attention, pulling his head out of his hands. James Turner was standing over him in that slightly ominous way that he did so well.
‘Oh, Mr Turner, I was just going to ask you about where we were going to stay tonight.’
It was the first time Luke had seen anything resembling an expression on the man’s face. A slight quirk of the mouth. ‘My men will stay here, Dr Storm. We are the First Lady’s security detail. We have to be available around the clock. You… can stay anywhere you like.’
Great. James Turner hadn’t included him in the plans. He heard voices in the nearby corridor and turned to see Abby and Dr Fairgreaves obviously finalising a few things on the ‘list’.
‘Abby?’
She gave a final nod to David Fairgreaves and walked over towards them, holding out the list to James Turner. ‘Everything and everybody I need. If you get them here, by the grace of God, we can deliver this baby safely.’ She handed the list over and James Turner disappeared silently down the corridor, talking into his lapel pin and holding his earpiece. ‘What’s up, Luke?’
And there she was. Gone was the flustered, hot-under-the-collar woman from the changing room. Gone was the little sparks of jealousy he thought he’d seen in the canteen. This was his Abby. The woman he’d always known and admired. Calm, controlled Abby Tyler. He’d seen her stop at the scene of an accident and treat multiple victims, with no equipment whatsoever, speedily and competently. While he’d been stuck hanging onto the back end of car to stop it catapulting off the edge of a cliff. She’d disappeared from his side one day in the supermarket aisle and he’d found her moments later, resuscitating a man who’d had a cardiac arrest at the checkout. No panic, no stress, she’d just looked at him calmly and asked, ‘Do you want to do the chest compressions or the mouth-to-mouth?’
What he’d never seen was how she’d been in the changing room.
She’d been angry with him. Or had it been frustration? It had been the first time they’d kissed in five years and he’d acted on instinct. From the first time he’d seen her that morning he’d felt as if someone had punched him square in the solar plexus. Abby Tyler with her feet up on the desk and her eyes closed, enjoying a moment of calm. He’d been stuck in his worst nightmare and she’d been the calmest woman on the planet.
Jennifer Taylor had been impressed. She’d called Luke into her room earlier to ask him what he knew about her. She was one smart lady and it was obvious she’d picked up on the undercurrents between them. She’d poked and prodded until Luke had finally confessed they’d once been an item.
‘Silly boy,’ she’d said as she’d lain back against her pillows with a smug look on her face.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s gorgeous. And she’s obviously a good influence on you. You’ve stopped flapping, you’re calm. She seems like a beautiful, intelligent woman and you’ve been a fool to let her slip through your fingers. What age are you? Twenty-nine? Thirty?’
He’d nodded. ‘I’m thirty.’
‘No one should live their life alone, Luke. I was the highest flyer of them all, but meeting Charlie was the best thing that ever happened to me. You need someone to share things with, the good and the bad, someone who’s always in your corner no matter what. A career is a career, but a life? Now, that’s worth living.’
Luke had been momentarily stunned by the frankness of her words. But then he’d asked himself why. Jennifer Taylor was known as a woman who pulled no punches. That’s why she was so highly regarded. The story of how she and Charles Taylor had met had been widely reported in the past. She absorbed in her work; he in his politics. And when they’d met—kaboom! It had been a true partnership. She’d blossomed into a beautiful, fiercesome human-rights lawyer and he into a leader among men. So why was he surprised? And why was he feeling a little disappointed that Miss Cool and Controlled was back? He’d liked the new version of Abby. He’d liked the new shouting, passionate, even jealous version of Abby. The added spark made her even more sexy than normal.
Something hit him on the side of his head. He bent to pick it up. The most sorry excuse of a paper airplane he’d ever seen. He smiled and looked up. Abby was leaning over the desk towards him.
