Claiming Colleen (Home to Harbor Town 3) - Page 11

Liam’s smile was unusually tender when Colleen met his stare. She realized her face was damp with tears. When she glanced back at Eric and Natalie, she saw that Eric watched her as well over Natalie’s head, his eyes dark and inexplicable.

Later that afternoon, Eric called out to Colleen as she was walking out of the hospital gift shop.

“Did they take Brendan down to the physical-therapy gym?” he asked as he caught up with her. He couldn’t help but notice how her expression became guarded when she recognized him. Every time he told himself he was used to her defensiveness and dislike, that it really didn’t matter, Colleen surprised him.

It mattered.

She nodded. “It seems strange to have him moving around right after surgery.”

“Don’t worry. The physical therapists here are real pros. They’ll just be assessing him and doing some simple stretches to keep his muscles flexible and strong. I’m glad I caught up with you. Can we talk in my office?” he asked as they progressed down the hallway together.

Her bluish green eyes flashed. “Why?”

“Liam and Natalie.”

“I can’t believe they’re getting married,” she murmured.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“What do you mean?”

He held out his arm, beckoning her down a corridor to the right of them. “My office is down here. Please?”

She wore a pair of supple black leather boots that hugged her shapely calves just as tightly as her form-fitting jeans hugged her thighs. Colleen didn’t look like the mother of any kid he?

??d ever operated on before, but that wasn’t saying much. Colleen made a habit of breaking most stereotypes, even if she could be rather predictable when it came to certain things.

Like hating him, for instance.

“What’s wrong? Not afraid of being alone with me, are you?” he teased softly when he noticed her wavering in those sexy black boots.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s make it quick, though. I want to get back before Brendan’s appointment is over.” She strode down the hallway, her boot heels clicking briskly. Per her typical MO, she left him standing there like a gawping teenager stunned into immobility by her golden beauty.

Fortunately, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He did what any red-blooded man would have done under the circumstances and stood still, admiring the rear view of Colleen Kavanaugh Sinclair in a pair of tight jeans. She came to a halt and turned her head, the abrupt gesture causing her mane of long blond hair to whip around her.

“Are you coming or what, Reyes?”

He knew she didn’t expect an answer, just compliance, so he said nothing as he caught up to her. Neither of them spoke as they walked side by side down the hospital corridor to his office.

He’d known her since he was seventeen years old—or at least, he’d known of her. They hadn’t exactly moved in the same social circle. She was a Kavanaugh, after all, and he was the son of an immigrant who cleaned Harbor Town offices and hotel rooms. She was a daughter of a wealthy Chicago attorney who could afford to buy a vacation home in Harbor Town and provide his wife and children with sunny, perfect vacations that lasted not just for two weeks but entire summers. Colleen had been the prettiest girl in a group of very pretty girls. She’d been the best athlete, the bravest and the smartest of that elite group, as well.

Some people couldn’t help it. They were born having it all.

Of course, appearances could be misleading. Tragedy had struck Colleen not just once, but twice by the time she was thirty years old. First her father had been killed in the wreck when she was sixteen. Then her husband had been killed in Afghanistan several years ago.

He knew that for most men, the first things that would pop into their head when they considered Colleen was her good looks and effortless ability to talk to anyone. It was why she was such a talented clinical social worker, after all. She could put a long-term drug addict and recidivist criminal at ease as quickly as she could a wealthy blue blood who was struggling with his wife’s alcoholism. Eric knew that Colleen was probably born with a lion’s share of kindness and charm, but it was her pain and grief that had molded her into the person she was today.

Of course, he only knew about her kindness and natural ability to connect with other people from observing her during her clinical work. That, and the memory of a bluish green-eyed stare and a smile that could haunt a man for half a lifetime.

Sometimes he was convinced that he couldn’t stand Colleen when she turned on her Princess of the Icy Realm act, but his irritation at her was usually only short-lived. He understood that their uneasy history sparked her hostility, and she did it to defend against past hurt. Once he got some distance from her, his annoyance at her would become tinged with sadness.

He’d watched her work, and the truth was, he admired her. She was no pushover, and the patients at The Family Center knew better than to try to manipulate her. Her kindness wasn’t of the “sweet” variety, but the deep, enduring, measurable type; it was demonstrated daily through her relentless faith in people’s ability to heal and her track record for going the extra mile for her patients—not occasionally but as a matter of course.

It sucked, plain and simple, knowing he was one of the few people on the planet who couldn’t make Colleen smile. He wished he hadn’t been forced into admiring and respecting her from a distance. He’d rather be doing it up close and personal.

“I’m right in here,” he said.

She followed him into his office. He sat on the edge of his desk and observed her while she glanced around curiously and then wandered over to his bookcase, smiling when she saw a photo of a ten-year-old Natalie. Nat wore a tutu and an anxious, hopeful smile. Colleen took a few steps and looked closely at his diplomas, and then his old hockey stick from college. She sobered when she saw the photo of his mother.

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