Private Partners (Doctors in Training 2)

Prologue

“Only one more week.”

Anne Easton shook her head in response to Liam McCright’s regretful murmur. “Don’t say that. It makes me too sad. I can’t enjoy our last few days together if you’re going to be counting down the minutes.”

They stood at a rock wall of the Argyle Battery of Edinburgh Castle, a breathtaking view of northern Edinburgh, Scotland, spread in front of them. Tourists with an intriguing mix of accents mingled around them, examining and exclaiming over the ancient cannons and battlements. Anne and Liam ignored everyone else, concentrating exclusively on each other on this beautiful summer day.

A brisk, warm breeze caught her fine, blond hair and she reached up to brush a lock away from her mouth, but Liam’s hand was already there. His fingertips glided across her cheek when he tucked the errant strand behind her ear, then bent his head to press a quick kiss against the lips he’d uncovered.

She smiled up at him, enchanted by the way his thick, dark hair, worn in his trademark long and tousled style, waved around a face so appealing that her throat still tightened when she looked at him. She couldn’t see his blue-gray eyes behind his dark glasses, but she knew they were focused on her face as though nothing else around them was of interest to him. That heady attentiveness was one of his more seductive talents.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, pulling her into the crook of one arm to nestle her against his lean body as they turned to gaze out over the streets of the historic city.

“I’ll miss you, too.” The simple words weren’t enough to express how much she would feel his absence in her life.

They had just spent a blissfully private eight weeks in London, and this jaunt to Scotland was a last celebration of their time together. In only one short week, she would return to Arkansas, where she would begin medical school in August, and Liam would fly to the Galápagos Islands on an assignment for his job as a globe-trotting journalist.

“I don’t want our relationship to end this time. Not like the last time.”

She bit her lower lip in response to the pain that shot through her. “There were reasons why we broke up three years ago. I’m not sure they’ve changed all that much.”

“Except that you’re an adult now, not an inexperienced college freshman. You’re twenty-three years old, Annie. Your parents can’t tell you how to run your life now. You have the right to be with me if you want, even if they still hate me.”

“They don’t hate you.”

He snorted. “Right. Which is why you haven’t even told them we’ve been together again for the past two months.”

Because she wasn’t sure she could win that argument, she said instead, “They weren’t the only reason we broke up anyway.”

“Maybe. But it’s different now. The eight weeks that have passed since we ran into each other in London have been great, haven’t they?”

“They’ve been perfect,” she agreed wistfully.

As if on impulse, he turned to face her, using his body to block her from the view of any others around them, giving them a semblance of privacy in their very public surroundings. “Then why does it have to end?”

They both knew the answer to that question, but she shrugged and replied, “Because I’m starting medical school in Arkansas in just over a month and you’re contr

acted to travel the globe for the next year. Longer if your show gets renewed, which I know it will.”

He brushed that logical argument aside with characteristic impatience. “We don’t have to be joined at the hip to be committed to each other. You can go to medical school and I can pursue my career. We have phones and computers to stay in touch when we aren’t physically together, and airplanes to get us both to the same place at the same time whenever we have a few free days.”

She sighed, thinking of how unlikely it was that such an arrangement could last the entire four years she would be in medical school. Of course, maybe Liam wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Maybe he was just thinking about playing it by ear after they went their own ways next week. He wasn’t known for long-term planning.

“I would love to hear from you anytime you want to call,” she agreed. “There’s certainly no reason we can’t stay in touch after we go back to our separate careers.”

He shook his head, his expression dissatisfied. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to be computer friends, or whatever the modern equivalent of pen pals might be. I want us to be connected. A real couple.”

She laughed somewhat quizzically. “You want to go steady?”

“No.” He wasn’t smiling when he dropped his hands on her shoulders and gazed somberly down at her. “Marry me, Anne. Now. Before you go back to the States next week.”

“M-marry?” Shocked into stuttering, she stared up at him. “Liam—”

He kissed her into silence, then raised his head with a new look of determination on his dashingly stubbled face. “Marry me,” he repeated. “Let’s make it official. Even if we aren’t together all the time, no one can ever really separate us again.”

Even as elation swept through her, she tried to keep herself grounded in reality. Liam had obviously lost his mind. He’d had a pint of Guinness at lunch—they both had—but she hadn’t thought the ale was strong enough to addle his wits. “We can’t just get married.”

“Why not?” He grinned suddenly, letting himself get carried away with his reckless plan, as he was so prone to do. It was the trait that had landed him his coveted career. He was becoming increasingly famous as a daring adventurer who was willing to take great risks in pursuit of a marketable angle. “Who’s going to stop us?”

“But—”

Glancing around at the new influx of tourists into their area, he took her arm. “Don’t answer yet. Let’s go have another pint and talk about it.”

Shaking her head in bemusement, she allowed him to tow her away from the stone wall, though she promised herself she would not let him sweep her into an impulsive elopement. No matter how charming and persuasive Liam could be. There were entirely too many reasons why she couldn’t go along with this crazy, impulsive proposal. Too many strikes against them from the start.

One of them had to be sensible—and that responsibility always seemed to fall on her shoulders.

Chapter One

“Are you sure you had the time to join us for dinner this evening, Anne? I hope we didn’t disrupt your study plans.”

“I can take off a couple hours for dinner, Mother. I can’t study every minute of every day.”

Though it felt sometimes as though that was exactly what she did, Anne Easton thought as she sliced into the roasted chicken her mother had served for this Friday evening family meal. Even when she tried to rebel and spend an afternoon resting or reading or watching TV, guilt and anxiety soon had her back at her books, working even harder than usual to make up for the lost time. Just as she would do tonight after returning to her apartment from this evening with her family.

“You’ve lost weight.” Her mother, Deloris Easton, a retired family court judge, studied her intently from across the table. “And you look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”

Anne couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “No. But don’t worry, I’m getting by.”

Her father, Dr. Henry Easton, Jr., a prominent and still-practicing Little Rock, Arkansas, neurosurgeon, listened to the exchange from the head of the formal dining room table. His thin silver hair gleamed in the light from the crystal chandelier overhead. Behind the lenses of his silver-framed glasses, his dark blue eyes focused piercingly on his only daughter. “It’s all well and good to join the family for dinner occasionally. We enjoy spending the time with you. But don’t let yourself get behind. You know what I always say…”

“Yes, Dad. If I fall behind, I’ll never catch up,” she recited, stabbing a glazed carrot with a bit more force than necessary.

“Back when I was in medical school, I was lucky to have a sandwich and a three-hour nap most days.” Seated at the other end of the table, Dr. Henry Easton, Sr., retired thoracic surgeon, dabbed at his silver mustache with the corner of a linen napkin.

Anne’s older brother, Stephen, had once suggested that Granddad had grown the mustache when the last of his hair had fallen out years earlier, just to prove he could still grow hair if he wanted to. Both Anne and Stephen had inherited their mother’s blond hair and light blue eyes rather than the sandy brown hair and darker blue eyes from their father’s side of the family.

Stephen, a third-year surgical resident and almost five years Anne’s elder at twenty-nine, exaggerated a shudder. “Remember when I had the flu the second semester of my first year of med school? It was all I could do not to fall behind, even though I was feverish and aching and coughing my lungs up.”

Anne focused on her plate, though her rapidly tightening throat made it increasingly difficult to swallow.

“I never missed a day of school due to illness,” Granddad boasted. “Not a day of work, either.”

Since she doubted he’d never been sick a day in his life, Anne wondered how many germs he had shared with associates and patients. Wisely, she kept that irreverent question to herself.

“You’re making time to study for Step 1?” her father asked, referring to the first part of the medical licensing exam. “I know it’s only early February, but June will be here before you know it. You’ll want to be ready.”

“Yes, Dad.” She’d actually have three chances to pass the exam, but she knew her family would be appalled if she didn’t sail through on the first attempt. Failure was not an option for an Easton, not even the type that would only set her back a few weeks on her long-term schedule. “I’ve already started going through the prep books. Whenever I’m not studying for a class, I work on the sample Step 1 questions.”

“Not much time left for a social life, huh?” her brother teased.