PRINCE CHARMING M.D. (3 page)

"Good, because I don't."

She stood, also. She wore a dark-peach coatdress. Chin-length, dark-blond hair had been brushed back from her face. She'd changed from high school. Her features were less
rounded,
her expression more wary. But her athletic body still moved with a grace that made him
think
about sultry afternoons and tangled sheets.

"I don't know that we've cleared the air," Dana said. "But at least everything is out in the open. I'm good at my job, Trevor. Just as you're good at yours. We're now forced to work together. I don't have a problem with that if you don't. As I said before, I don't care what you do with your personal life—just don't do it on my time. I can't tell you not to see my nurses, but I will ask that you keep your flirtations to a minimum. If I see them affecting the running of this hospital, I won't hesitate to report you."

The insult was undeserved, but not unexpected. He told himself Dana was reacting to the truth as she saw it. But it was hard to just let it go.

"No problem," he said,
then
headed for the door before he exploded. Several women called out greetings. He nodded pleasantly as he walked to the elevator. Once he was inside and the doors closed, leaving him alone, he gave in to his rage.

He swore long and loud,
then
hit the wall with a closed fist. Dana thought he was little more than a gigolo, which was what most people believed. That Trevor MacAllister had a woman in every port—or in the case of the hospital, a nurse on every floor and in every department. That he went out with a different one each night, bedded them all in legendary fashion and forgot about them the next day. Out of sight, out of mind.

He didn't want to make any part of his reputation a reality, but she—like the rest of the world—wouldn't be interested in something as boring as the truth. The only part of the legend he wanted to be real was the bit about forgetting. If only he could put it all out of his mind—let the past go. He could save himself a lot of sleepless nights … and a lot of pain.

Chapter Two

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D
ana pulled open the dishwasher and began unloading the machine. Despite the beautiful April morning, she felt distracted and edgy. Knowing what caused the feelings didn't help. Had she been a jogger she would have gone out for a ten-mile run. Maybe she would regrout her shower tiles—anything to take her mind
off
the source of her trouble. Trevor MacAllister.

She grabbed a handful of silverware and crossed to the drawer next to the refrigerator. It wasn't fair. After all these years he'd waltzed back into her life as if nothing had ever happened. "For him it hasn't," she reminded herself aloud. While he'd been the only guy she'd ever had a crush on in high school, and her first lover, she'd only been one in a line of conquests for him. She hated that she couldn't stop thinking about him.

The past week had been long and difficult. She'd managed to get through their start-up meeting with a minimum of reaction. At least that's what she told herself. He couldn't possibly have known that the entire time he sat so casually in her
office,
her heart had been pounding and her knees growing weak. She'd felt a flush on her cheeks, but had hoped her makeup was enough to cover it.

So that should be the end of it. Trevor was on staff. Any questions she had could be answered by his office. There was no reason she should have to see him, talk to him or even hear his name. But it wasn't that simple. For one thing, nearly every female in the hospital was still buzzing about him. For another, she couldn't seem to escape him. Every time she rounded a corner or exited an elevator they ran into each other. One time he'd been pulling on his white coat over tailored shirt and tie. The height and strength of him had sucked the breath right from her chest. Another time he'd been coming out of surgery, tired, sweaty, with stained scrubs hanging loosely on his body. She shouldn't have noticed. She
never
noticed doctors. But she wasn't that lucky with Trevor. Something about him drew her. Like a moth to a flame, she thought humorlessly. And like that little moth, if she wasn't careful she would end up a charred piece of nothing blowing away on the breeze.

"This is crazy," she told herself as she picked up the pot in the top rack of the dishwasher. She carried it to the cupboard,
then
shoved it in place. "I refuse to spend my weekend thinking about this man. What I need is a distraction."

She walked through her three-bedroom town house. There were plenty of weekend chores. Cleaning, laundry, some bills to pay. All necessary, but none taxing enough to occupy her thoughts for very long. She considered calling her best friends, but Katie would be busy with Mike, and Lee had mentioned something about going away for the weekend.
Which left her on her own.

She eyed the wallpaper in the dining area, but decided stripping the walls was a bit much, even for someone in her condition. Besides, she liked the subtle pattern. Would redecorating really get Trevor out of her head?

She moved back into the kitchen and poured herself some coffee. She could have handled seeing him again, and even talking to him, if only he hadn't brought up the past. The more she thought about what he'd told her, the more she grew confused. No way did she believe that Joel Haddock had been the one to tell her entire high school what she'd done with Trevor. Yet she couldn't accept the fact that Trevor was lying. He was many things she admired and many things she despised, but he'd always been completely honest. It didn't make sense. Maybe—

A rumble caught her attention. She carried her mug to the front bedroom that doubled as her at-home office and stared out the window. A moving van had pulled up in front of the town house next door. She'd heard that the place had been rented. This was exactly what she needed. She would go over, introduce herself to her new neighbors and offer to help. A couple of hours spent carting boxes around and unpacking would be a great distraction.

She left her mug on the counter in the kitchen, pocketed her keys and stepped outside. Three men were already lowering the tailgate of the trailer. She looked around for a passenger car. A sleek, silver Mercedes pulled into the nearest visitor parking slot. Dana stared at the vehicle. A knot formed in her stomach as she realized it looked familiar. A man stepped out of the car and the knot tightened.

"Please, God, no," she murmured as Walter MacAllister raised an arm in a gesture of greeting,
then
headed toward her.

The chief of staff was tall and fit, with chiseled features that made him look younger than his sixty years. The long stride was familiar because his son had inherited that powerful walk, along with the elder MacAllister's good looks. She told herself not to panic, that Walter's being there didn't
mean
anything, but she knew she was lying. Walter and his wife had a beautiful house outside of Honeygrove. They had no reason to rent a town house … at least not for themselves.
Which left another possibility too hideous to consider.
"Dana."

Walter reached her side and took her hands in his. He was caring and friendly with all his staff, frequently hosting dinner parties at his house. His was an open-door policy that kept morale high and turnover low. Dana knew it was just his management style at work, yet she'd always felt he'd taken a special interest in her career. He was the one who had recommended her for her current position.

"While it's always a pleasure to see you, Walter, these aren't your normal stomping grounds."

He released her hands and glanced around the complex. "It's as lovely here as you said."

She followed his gaze, taking in the delicate pink flowers on the black hawthorn trees, the trimmed ornamental bush,
the
quiet trickle of the water in the brook flowing through the grounds. "It is nice," she agreed cautiously.

Another rumble filled the morning. She didn't want to turn around and find the source of the sound. The knot in her stomach had doubled, as had her sense of foreboding. It would be too cruel of fate to do what she thought it was considering.

A black convertible pulled into the space next to the garage. Dana focused on the car because she had a bad feeling she already knew the driver.

The sports car was low and powerful, with scoops on the hood and wide racing tires. No doubt it could drive circles around her sensible Honda. She'd never been in a convertible—with over forty inches of rain a year in Honeygrove, they weren't exactly practical. Still, it looked like fun. A metal decal by the passenger door showed an upright snake, while letters on the rear bumper spelled out Cobra.

Dana raised her eyebrows. She would have figured someone with the nickname "Prince Charming, M.D." would drive an expensive foreign luxury car. Not an American-built muscle car.

She kept her attention on the vehicle as long as possible, but when Trevor came to a stop next to her, she had no choice but to look at him.

He flashed
her a
grin. She doubted it was his best one—he probably saved those for the actual seduction. This was his everyday smile, the one he gave away without thought. She tried to tell herself it wasn't special, that there was no reason for her visceral reaction to his presence. For all the good it did. Her heart rate increased as her body responded to Trevor's powerful magnetism. Damn the man.

"Dana," he said, as if actually pleased to see her. "What do you think?" He motioned to the large moving van. "We're going to be neighbors."

She'd already suspected as much, but it was one thing to think it and another to hear him say the words. "Really?"

Walter nodded. "You always said such nice things about your complex that when Trevor asked me about a place to rent while he had his house built, I instantly thought of here. Fortunately, one of the units was available."

"Talk about luck," Dana muttered, shoving her hands into her back jeans pockets. This couldn't be happening. Trevor couldn't move in next door. It wasn't just that she would have to see him from time to time; she would have to
hear
him. Their units shared two common walls. One was the living room, which wouldn't be a problem, but the other was the bedroom. She resisted the urge to groan. She didn't want to spend her evenings listening to him play Don Juan to whichever woman he might have up there.

"We're ready, sir," one of the movers called.

"Sure." Trevor walked to the man and spoke with him briefly, then headed for the front door. He was gone for a few seconds, then the garage opened and he reappeared. "I know where I want all the furniture," he told the men. "The boxes are marked by room."

The movers began unloading the van. Trevor helped, giving directions when necessary and carrying in boxes. His red polo shirt hugged powerful muscles in his shoulders, back and chest. Worn jeans—obviously designed to drive women insane—had faded to white at the hips seams, the knees and the crotch.

Walter looked at Dana. "Is this going to be a problem for you?"

She had to forcibly withdraw her attention from his son. She probably looked like a hungry wolf eyeing a rabbit as a potential meal.

His hazel eyes were shrewd and saw far too much. Did he expect her to tell him the truth? She smiled broadly. "Not at all. In fact, I came outside to offer my help."

The older man raised his eyebrows. "That was before you knew the identity of your new neighbor. I can tell what you're thinking, Dana, but you don't have to worry about Trevor. He won't be making noise and keeping you up late. Rumors of his exploits are exaggerated."

"Thank you," she said, wondering if there was a parent alive who didn't think the best of his offspring.

The three men continued to carry furniture into the town house. Dana trailed after them and found Trevor in the master bedroom. He told them where to set the large dresser.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected as far as decor, but the simple wooden pieces in the bedroom looked faintly conservative. Maybe he saved flashy for the sheets. Black satin or possibly silk.

"I'm here to help," Dana said. "What would you like me to do?"

Trevor glanced at her. "I appreciate that, although I'm a little surprised."

"That I would be neighborly?"

He nodded. "I don't think I'm who you would have chosen to live next door."

He had that right. Still, he was her boss's son and she could make the best of a bad, albeit temporary, situation. "Not a problem. I hope you're not worried about me. Cramping your style and all."

"You'd be surprised how little that concerns me. There isn't as much style as you think."

"Good looks
and
modesty. Gee, Trevor, it's amazing some woman hasn't snapped you up before now." She'd intended the comment to come out sarcastically, but oddly, as she spoke the words she found that she meant them. She knew from personal experience that he could be as charming as the devil himself. If he ever combined that with sincerity, he would be irresistible.