Seducing Cinderella (Fighting for Love, #1)
by Gina L. Maxwell
For my husband who has had to deal with my tendencies to flip from obsessions to obsession over the years as I searched for, and finally found, THE THING I WAS MEANT TO DO. Thank you for not jumping off my CRAZY TRAIN, babe.
Chapter One
Lucie Miller didn’t bother looking up when she heard the knock on her office door. Her next physical therapy patient was early, which irked her since she hadn’t even completed the paperwork from the previous appointment. She pushed her glasses back in the proper place. He could just cool his heels in the hallway for the next ten minutes while she fini—
The knock came again, a little more insistently this time, and her resolve to not cater to someone else’s wishes crumbled, as usual. Dropping her pen to the sheaf of papers in front of her, she called out, “Come in.”
A head of perfectly styled dark hair popped around the edge of the door. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Before she could order her heart to behave, it skipped a beat at the mellowy-smooth voice of Dr. Stephen Mann, Director of Sports Medicine and major hottie at Northern Nevada Medical Center. At warp speed, her brain performed an unsolicited catalog of her appearance, spitting out the usual diagnosis of “plain and disheveled.” Holding back a disappointing sigh and the urge to smooth a hand over the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail, she gave him her best smile. “Not at all. I didn’t forget another meeting, did I?”
Twin dimples winked at her. “No, not today.”
He turned to close the door, and her pulse raced. As an orthopedic surgeon, he’d visited her less-than-impressive office in the Rehab and Sports Med Center plenty of times to discuss mutual patients. But not once had he ever closed the door.
Trying hard not to race to conclusions, she gestured in front of her. “Please, have a seat.”
“Uh…”
Lucie glanced to the single visitor chair piled high with file folders, old newspapers, and research articles. She swore she felt her cheeks actually change color as she bolted around her desk. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Here, let me just—”
“That’s all right, you don’t have to—”
“No, I insist.” She gathered the haphazard paper mountain in her arms. Not for the first time, or even the hundredth time, she wished she weren’t so disorganized. Spinning in a quick circle, she searched for a place to stash the mess. Stacks just like the one she held lined the walls of her office on the floor and over every square inch of desk and file cabinet space. Finally she gave up and just plopped the pile into her chair before turning her attention to her guest. God, why couldn’t she be smooth and put-together like other women? Like the kind Stephen dated. “So, what brings you down into the bowels of the hospital this afternoon?”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Normally, the gorgeous doctor was the picture of confidence. It was the reason women literally sighed in his wake. Well, that and his easy charm and Ken-doll good looks complete with killer smile.
“The hospital’s annual charity dinner and dance is only two months away, and whereas a guy only has to rent a tux and show up, I’m aware that a woman needs ample time to shop for a dress and schedule all sorts of hair and nail appointments and whatever else it is that you women do to make yourselves beautiful.”
Lucie’s throat closed, and her fingers flew to fidget with her necklace. This was it. They’d worked together for years, sometimes even staying hours past their shifts to work on mutual cases, ordering bad Chinese when their brains refused to quit but their stomachs could no longer be ignored. They’d always been intellectually compatible, and their mutual obsession to help patients recover quicker and better bonded them as nothing else could. She’d loved him for years, but he’d never asked her out. Never made a move, instead preferring to date classy businesswomen he met during happy hour at the posh Club Caliente down the street.
But now he was here. In her office. Talking about the hospital ball. Dear God, please don’t let her faint. Taking a slow, deep breath, Lucie tried for casual. “Are you trying to ask me something, Stephen?” And failed miserably. Damn.
A strong hand rubbed at the back of his neck, and he gave her the cutest look of embarrassment. “Ah, yeah. I’m not doing a very good job of it, am I?”
“No, you’re doing fine!” Too much enthusiasm. Double damn!