How to Resist the Single Dad
Autore
JC Harroway
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CHAPTER ONE
WATCHING DR AARON BENNETT speak from the main lecture-theatre podium of London’s City Hospital gave Stella Wright serious crush flashbacks. Of course she had fancied him. Who wouldn’t? But, where her ridiculous teenage obsession had been abstract, that of the shy fourteen-year-old she’d once been, now she struggled to focus on his lecture to this year’s intake of general-practitioner trainees.
Like an expensive single-malt whisky, Aaron had only improved with age. He sported a head of sandy blond hair that had the tendency to flop over his aristocratic brow. His dark-framed glasses made his bright blue eyes—ones she had once considered dreamy—appear more intense. He wore a fine-knit V-necked jumper over his shirt, and when he had turned his back on his audience to point at the screen, Stella had almost drooled at his toned backside. In fact, his entire look brought to mind a sexy professor fantasy that Stella should in no way indulge.
She dragged her eyes away. She was long ago done with charmers and Aaron Bennett epitomised the definition. Or at least he had during his twenties and early thirties in their Cotswold village of Abbotsford.
With a reputation as a charismatic playboy, he’d regularly blasted back into their sleepy village for a weekend of hedonistic fun, always driving a fast sports car and bringing with him a gaggle of friends looking for a wild party at the country estate his parents still ran. His notorious reputation had been the talk of the town, every eligible woman and mother alike wondering when the local heartthrob would settle down. Return home for good and take up his place in the small community.
To everyone’s surprise, he eventually had.
And now, here in London—Stella’s home these past nine years—he seemed somehow out of place, even though he himself had trained and worked in the capital.
Of course, she hadn’t heard a word of what he’d actually said for the last five minutes since she’d first drifted off into a lust-filled daydream and then been reminded of another Cotswolds smooth-talker, one who’d done such a good job of breaking her heart, she’d sworn off relationships at the tender age of eighteen. Which was why, when he closed his laptop at the end of his lecture and said her name, Stella almost slid from her seat to disappear beneath the desk.
‘Could Stella Wright please see me? Thank you.’ He swept his gaze over the doctors filling the auditorium.
In case her friends were watching and wondering what she had done to upset the teacher, Stella forced her face to freeze on a benign smile, while her insides tumbled over themselves to make sense of his request. What could Aaron Bennett want with her? Yes, they came from the same small village, where his family descended from a long line of landed gentry. She knew all about his tragic past, which like Stella’s own notoriety had no doubt been prime village-gossip fodder. But they’d never actually spoken to one another.
Fourteen-or fifteen-year-old Stella would have swooned.
It was a good thing that twenty-seven-year-old committed singleton Dr Stella Wright’s swooning days were over.
As Aaron fell into conversation with one of the keener registrars, a gorgeous blonde Stella knew well enough to guess had approached him with an intelligent question that had nothing to do with his backside or dreamy eyes, Stella headed for the stairs and raked her scattered wits for something to say other than Hi, I used to have a crush on you.
For goodness’ sake, he was one of her educational supervisors. Her past and irrelevant infatuation with Dr Delicious should serve only to remind her of the momentous reasons she’d left Abbotsford for the big-city lights of London in the first place. Why she’d followed in her sister Darcy’s footsteps and moved here, reinventing herself in the process.
Heartbreak Harry, as she’d named her ex.
Stella cast a glance at Aaron. Had he remembered her from Abbotsford, heard the gossip?
Still in conversation with the blonde, he seemed completely oblivious to Stella. Perhaps he didn’t know she existed. Well, that suited her just fine.
She paused halfway down the steps to reply to a group text from her GP trainee friends, who were about to scatter across the country for the final eighteen months of their training.
Clubbing tonight—last night before we all disperse.
Stella smiled, a spasm of nostalgia pinching her ribs. She was staying in London. She loved living here. The vibrancy, the constant bustle, the anonymity of being one person out of millions. But she would miss her crew. Who would go clubbing with her now? Her sister was recently all loved up, so she had no hope of dragging Darcy out on the town.
Just then her friend Tom called out from the front of the lecture theatre, where there was a bottleneck at the exit.
‘Stells.’ He waved, snagging her attention away from Aaron’s broad shoulders. ‘Pre-drinks at the pub tonight? Wear your dancing shoes.’ Tom offered a playful wink, a shimmy to a tune only he could hear and left the lecture theatre.
Tom didn’t do subtle. There was no way Aaron had missed their interaction.
Prickles danced over her skin, a sensation of Aaron’s observation that should have been uncomfortable but instead left her wondering if he was still single or remained unattached after the death of his wife.
She looked up, sucking in a breath as her stare collided directly with his. He had been watching her, his conversation seemingly abandoned as he stared intently.
A small smile twitched her cheeks while she battled the incendiary effects of that direct eye contact. It could have only lasted a second or two, but it was long enough for Stella’s pulse to skyrocket and her breath to trap under her diaphragm as if she had a stitch.
Had she imagined a tightening of his facial muscles between his brows, the thinning of his lips? Was he judging her penchant for having a good time, letting down her hair, dancing?
Clearly they had little in common beyond coming from the same village.
Stella lingered over the last few steps to the front of the auditorium, waiting for him to wind up his conversation.
The other doctor headed for the exit, leaving her and Aaron alone. The vast theatre, which could easily seat three hundred people, shrank to the size of a broom cupboard. The closer she stepped, the more attractive he became. Nerves accosted her stomach at his tall, imposing masculinity. Their differences—the age gap and the country-boy, city-girl chasm—seemed increasingly trivial.
‘Dr Wright, thanks for waiting behind,’ he said, his deep voice confident and full of warmth. He tossed his glasses onto the podium and held out his hand.
‘No problem,’ she croaked, shaking his hand firmly in order to boost her wobbling confidence. Alone with her and up close he seemed to have morphed into the hottest man she’d ever met.
With his glasses removed, his bold blue eyes were more vibrant. His biceps and pecs were clearly demarcated beneath his jumper. His tie was ever so slightly askew, lending him a roguish, devil-may-care vibe that tied all of his attractive qualities together with a bright red bow, a combination that packed a considerable punch to Stella’s poor neglected libido.
She swallowed. Time to get a grip. His hotness was completely irrelevant.
a) He had looked disapproving at her clubbing plans.
b) Despite no trace of a dad bod, Stella knew from her parents that he had a young son.
c) Perhaps the most important factor of all: Stella hadn’t dated since Harry.
‘I won’t keep you long.’ He dropped her hand.
Stella wiped her palm on her trouser leg as discreetly as possible, praying like crazy that he hadn’t felt the judders zapping along her nerves as they touched. This close she could smell his aftershave, which was woodsy and fresh and made her homesick for autumn walks through the countryside and roaring fires on a cold day.
‘What’s this about?’ she said, the flash of what looked like guilt or sympathy on his face raising her defensive hackles. Was he recalling what he knew of her from the small talk that had once circulated in Abbotsford?
She felt like a germ swimming in a petri dish.
Privacy was scarce in village life, and Stella had left the Cotswolds for university under a cloud of unjust gossip that still had the ability to make her shudder with shame. Not because the rumours had been true—beyond being young and naive and falling head over heels for the wrong man with a young son and a complicated past he’d lied about, she’d done nothing wrong. But because she couldn’t for the life of herself fathom that she’d once been so gullible, so lovestruck, so pitiable.
If only she could forget the humiliation of not only having her tender teenaged heart broken for the first time, but also being unfairly vilified as some sort of Lolita-esque home-wrecker...
‘I’m afraid there’s an issue with your GP placement,’ Aaron said without reference to Abbotsford. Perhaps he didn’t recognise her after all.
Stella winced at the bedside manner of his tone. ‘What issue?’
Aaron’s stare roamed her face as if peeling away her layers of armour, one by one. Did he have to look at her with such...intimacy?
‘I’m afraid your assigned GP, Dr Roberts at Ealing Health has suffered a serious medical emergency and will no longer be able to accommodate you at his surgery.’
Stella covered her mouth in shock. ‘Is he okay?’ Poor Dr Roberts.
‘He suffered a myocardial infarction yesterday,’ Aaron said, ‘and underwent coronary artery stenting this morning, but obviously he isn’t expected back at work for some time.’
Stella nodded, realisation dawning. She was due to start her GP placement at Ealing Health on Monday. Dr Roberts was meant to supervise her training for the next year and a half.
‘So what happens now?’ she asked, her skin tight with prickles. ‘Presumably I’ll be placed at my second-choice surgery in Hammersmith.’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Aaron’s lips flattened, drawing Stella’s gaze reluctantly from his piercing and perceptive eyes. Idly she wondered if he’d be a good kisser. He must be to have earned his reputation.
He cleared his throat, drawing Stella back to the conversation. ‘They already have a GP trainee there.’
‘So where exactly will I be placed?’ Stella’s blood started to roar in her ears. She empathised with poor Dr Roberts, she truly did, but there had to be a suitable alternative. The powers that be at the Royal College of General Practitioners must have a plan B for this kind of unfortunate eventuality.
Aaron frowned, his lips twisted with frustration, a move that did nothing to diminish his rugged good looks. ‘As most of the placements have already been finalised, you’ve been assigned to my practice in the Cotswolds.’
Stella’s mouth fell open. ‘What...? But...’ No. Abbotsford was a part of her previous life, a life she’d abandoned when she’d wrapped up her tattered heart, left behind tragic small-town Stella and moved permanently to London. She had abandoned the misty-eyed and gauche teenager she had been, grown up, reinvented herself. Here she was fun and free Stella with a career she adored, a buzzing social life and an enviable shoe collection to complement her party outfits.
Aaron rubbed his hand along his cleanly shaven jaw as if he was as irritated with the arrangement as she was, which inflamed her further.
‘I’ll go anywhere else,’ she pleaded. ‘There must be somewhere else.’ She was being rude, but his news couldn’t be any less welcome.
‘I’m afraid not.’ His polite smile was tight. ‘But bear in mind that I didn’t ask for a trainee either.’
She flushed and then qualified, ‘What I mean is that I specifically requested to be assigned to a London practice. I’m more likely to receive a broad experience in the city and this is where I plan on living and working. I’ve no interest in a village practice.’
She had left village life behind.
At her unintentional put-down, the corners of Aaron’s eyes crinkled, his irises chilling two shades icier.
He crossed his arms over that broad chest and this time her keen eyes caught a glimpse of golden chest hair behind the loosened collar of his shirt. ‘That may be the case, but there is nowhere else at such short notice.’ Now his expression sported as much frustration as Stella felt coiling in her stomach.
Her heart sank, the bad news in no way softened by the flare of lust running through her veins.
No, no, no. She couldn’t work for her ancient crush, and she couldn’t spend the next year and a half living in the village that featured at the centre of her most shameful regret.
Perfect.
Aaron’s lush lips moved. Instead of imagined kisses, Stella listened as he confirmed her worst fears. ‘I’m afraid, Dr Wright, that, like it or not, we’re stuck with each other.’
