Authors: Sophia Knightly
Heart Melter
HEART MELTER
SOPHIA KNIGHTLY
Heart Melter
Copyright 2013 by Victoria Koch
Cover design by
Gilded Heart Design, Inc.
Formatting by
IRONHORSE Formatting
Kobo Edition
Without limiting the rights under copyright(s) reserved above and below, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.
Please Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank You.
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Dedication
With much love to my daughter, Gigi, the talented songbird who inspired this story. May you always sing and spread joy with your beautiful voice.
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to Martha Paley Francescato for your many reads and encouragement during the writing of HEART MELTER. I’m so happy you loved Natasha and Ian’s story from the start.
To Maggie Dove, many thanks for the laughter and fun times in plotting, and to Marcia King-Gamble for your feedback and always lending an ear.
A big shout out and thanks to my wonderful beta readers and to the amazing Sophia’s Sirens led by our fabulous team leader, Amanda Brown!
Lots of love to my daughters, Gigi and Jacqui, for your boundless enthusiasm and support.
Gracias
to my Mom, the original storyteller whose tales held me spellbound as a child.
And finally to my husband, Paul, for your heart melting love.
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Ian and Natasha - Heartthrob Series, Book Two
Scottish surgeon, Dr. Ian MacGregor, has no desire to see his ex-fiancée again. But when the dazzling Broadway star lands in his office wounded, the healer in Ian can't turn her away.
Natasha White has no idea why anyone would knife her on a crowded street in Times Square. At first she thinks the cut on her thigh is an accident, but as frightening events unravel, she learns the mob is after an incriminating flash drive they think she has. She's grateful when Ian whisks her away to his castle in the Highlands, far from the mob.
Irresistibly drawn to her, Ian tries to deny the sexy sparks that ignite as he becomes her fierce protector. Their hot chemistry deepens into strong feelings as they dodge impending danger and he fights to keep her safe. Ian will do anything to guard Natasha, but will their love be strong enough to survive the shocking secrets revealed?
Dear Readers,
HEART MELTER is a story very dear to my heart. Years ago, I traveled to Scotland and was captivated by its valiant history, the warm and friendly Scots and the magic of their land. I always wanted to set a romance there, and now I’m thrilled to share Ian and Natasha’s love story with you. I hope you will root for them and fall in love with them as much as I did.
Happy reading,
Sophia Knightly
Table of Contents
Look for these books by Sophia Knightly
“You’re flat,” Simon called out from the third row of the dark theatre.
“No, I’m not.” Natasha White gritted her teeth and raised a challenging eyebrow at the director. Her hands curved on the waist of her fawn satin teddy as she tamped down her simmering temper. Simon Worth was referring to her pitch, not her breasts, although he had spent most of the morning ogling them while she danced. It was the third time he’d rudely interrupted her song, and he’d made Freddie the choreographer change her tap number so many times, her muscles were screaming in protest. But she ignored the pain; it was worth having the starring role of Legs LaRue in “The Bee’s Knees”, a new roaring twenties musical sure to be a Broadway hit.
Simon was pushing hard during dress rehearsal—unfairly so. But what else could she expect from the control freak who had written the songs and lyrics of “The Bee’s Knees” and was also directing it? The thirty-nine-year-old musical genius was temperamental and rude, but that wouldn’t have stopped Natasha’s mother, legendary Broadway diva, Anitra White, from letting loose a rant that would have singed Simon’s bushy black brows. Where her acerbic mother would have screamed, Natasha held her tongue, even if she felt like strangling Simon. She didn’t want any comparisons with her drama queen mama, not now, not ever.
“She was pitch perfect,” her accompanist, Bruce, said instantly. Her white-haired defender pushed his horn rimmed glasses up on his high-bridged nose and glared at Simon. Bruce was an experienced, old school Broadway accompanist and nobody dared contradict him, not even Simon.
“Sounded gorgeous to me. Piss off, Simon.” Freddie the choreographer’s jaw clenched beneath his trim salt-and-pepper goatee as he sent a supportive nod Natasha’s way. He had already had a meltdown this morning over Simon’s intrusive meddling in his choreography. His compact dancer’s body was coiled tightly, ready to spring on the director if he continued to bully Natasha. Not that she needed protecting. If she could handle her mother’s tough criticism all those years growing up, she could certainly endure Simon’s.
“Thanks, guys,” Natasha said, blowing them kisses. She alternately rolled her neck and shoulders, and then peered into the theatre, her gaze zeroing in on her understudy, Lisette Raye, who watched with rabid ambition.
It was no secret Lisette was hot for the starring role—and the director. The pushy twenty-one-year-old actress and Simon were already sleeping together. Once he’d plowed through the ensemble and slept with most of them, Simon settled on Lisette, who eagerly pleased him in
all
areas. Well, she could have the pompous gasbag. Musical genius or not, he didn’t appeal to Natasha, and she’d be damned if she’d sleep her way to the top. She’d seen too many failed “showmances”—mostly hook-ups that thrived during shows, but rarely made it past the last curtain call. Hanging around backstage as a child during her mom’s Broadway shows had taught her to steer clear of romances in the business. It had also toughened her enough to let Simon’s insults slide and not affect her performance.
“Let’s take it from the top, and this time make sure your E makes me weep,” Simon drawled caustically, ignoring the collective groans from Bruce and Freddie.
An hour later when Elisha, the stage manager, called lunch break, Natasha fled the theatre intent on grabbing a bite to eat and taking her Pomeranian puppy, Evita, for a quick walk. Evita was a gift from her childhood friend, Ronnie, and Ronnie’s gorgeous new husband, Nick Cameron. They’d given her the puppy before leaving on their honeymoon. The moment the puppy emitted a melodious, crooning howl while Natasha sang, she promptly named her Evita, after the musical.
Natasha hurried across Times Square, her nerves frayed from Simon’s heedless interruptions and unwarranted criticisms. Something wasn’t right; she could feel it in her bones. Thinking back to her horoscope this morning, maybe she should heed Sydney Taggert’s advice:
Keep an eye on your back and an eye toward the future.
She zipped her tan leather jacket against the blast of ice cold air swirling around her. A bit early for such frigid weather in October, but everything this month seemed off. She usually made her way home at a brisk trot, but today her leg and butt muscles quivered from the morning’s repetitive variations of the same dance. She was used to grueling workouts, but Simon had gone overboard. It was almost as if he were trying to push her to the breaking point. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. He had underestimated the kind of grit she had developed over the years. She wasn’t about to relinquish the plum role of Legs LaRue to a greedy newbie like Lisette.
With her head bent forward and her heavy dance tote slung across her chest, Natasha wove through the teeming crowd of tourists. She was two blocks away from her apartment when she felt a firm jerk on her dance bag. As she grappled to hold onto it and not lose her footing, a sharp pain sliced across her outer right thigh.
“Ouch!” She craned her neck to the side to see where the jab had come from. A quick glance at her leg made her gasp at the slash in her jeans and the long red line on her skin revealed by the gaping fabric. Within seconds blood rose to the cut’s surface. With shaky hands, Natasha pulled her long knit scarf off her neck and tied it tightly around her upper thigh, forming a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
She stepped onto the curb and frantically hailed a taxi. Within seconds, a cab drove up and she clambered inside.
“Where to?” the driver asked, turning to stare at her when she didn’t answer right away.
Natasha could barely breathe, let alone speak as she stared at the driver. She swallowed and said through trembling lips, “Take me to the closest emergency clinic.”
No, that wouldn’t do.
If she went to an emergency clinic, she’d be there all day. With Simon’s foul mood and Lisette itching for her starring role, Natasha had to get back to rehearsal ASAP.
When the driver turned on 40
th
Street onto 6
th
Avenue, she remembered Ian’s medical clinic was on that street. Her heart leaped at the thought of seeing her ex-fiancé again and it brought an onslaught of painful memories. Given the way they’d split up seven years ago, would he even agree to see her? At this crucial moment, who cared? She needed his expertise and who better than brilliant renowned cosmetic surgeon, Dr. Ian MacGregor, to treat her wound and not leave a disfiguring scar?
Knowing Ian, he’d take care of her too. He was a doctor first and foremost. Years ago, he’d been strong and protective of her…and they’d been passionately in love. Did she really want to go there after struggling for seven years to get him out of her heart? How would he react to her unexpected visit? She’d soon find out, she thought, quaking inside as she made a rash decision.
When she recognized Ian’s building, she told the driver, “Stop here. Please. I’m getting off.” She handed him a ten dollar bill and bolted out of the cab.
Inside the building, Natasha gulped air and tried not to look at her wound as she pressed the elevator button. Thankfully, it was empty and she rode up to Ian’s office alone. But the moment she entered the reception area, she panicked at the roomful of patients waiting to be seen. Summoning strength—and courage—she limped toward the counter and tried not to put too much pressure on her injured leg.
“Excuse me,” she said to a gray haired woman whose narrowed gaze was fixed on the computer screen before her. “I need to see Dr. MacGregor.”