Second Chance with His Army Doc

‘Incredible brother, amazing commanding officer, but unashamed playboy.’ She ticked off each trait on one hand, as if entirely amused and not the least bit affected.

‘Playboy?’ He frowned.

‘Well, not those words exactly,’ Bridget confessed.

Though she’d added the playboy bit to keep her own head screwed on, if nothing else. How he couldn’t hear the deafening hammering of her heart was mystifying, though perhaps he was altogether too accustomed to it.

‘I think it was more women always throwing themselves at his feet. But I get the impression you’re not exactly a monk.’

‘He definitely isn’t a monk.’ Mattie clicked her tongue. ‘Are you okay for a minute, Bea? I ought to say hi to everyone.’

How was it possible to simultaneously want to grab her friend’s arm and make her stay, and yet to push her on her way and tell her not to rush back?

‘Sure.’ She managed to smile instead, though it felt like a rictus.

‘I’ll take care of her.’ Hayden’s voice sent goosebumps chasing up her skin.

‘Yeah, well, not too much care.’ Mattie skewered him with a glower before bestowing a smile on Bridget. ‘He’s not what I meant by doing something crazy.’

‘Of course not,’ Bridget agreed, wondering why her voice sounded so robotic. And then Mattie was gone, and she was left alone with her friend’s brother. And her body launched itself into another insane fever.

What was the matter with her?

Hayden Brigham was positively lethal and according to Mattie any woman worth her salt should steer clear of the man, or at least be able to steel herself against his natural charms.

She’d been confident she’d fall easily into that category. Now she feared for her own sanity. Less than three minutes in this man’s company and her body was already feeling out of her control, and alien. What would three months of working with him be like?

‘Something crazy?’ he echoed, and for a moment she couldn’t be sure if it was a question or an invitation.

Bridget stuffed down the sudden thrill that rose within her and told herself it was entirely unwelcome.

She didn’t believe in that stuff. Love, lust, sex, whatever one wanted to call it. She’d seen firsthand how destructive that could be. How her father had used her mother’s love for him, and her gullibility, to defend him. To lie for him. All because she had refused to believe what was right in front of her eyes.

Such was the power he’d had over her mother that for years she’d made Bridget—too young to know any better—lie for him, too. And as Bridget had grown up and had seen for herself what kind of a smooth-talking con artist her father was, she had assured herself that she simply couldn’t see how anyone could be that naive.

Right now, however, she was terribly afraid she could begin to understand all too easily. Not that she was saying Hayden Brigham was anything like her father, of course...just that it was suddenly all too easy to see how one could succumb to someone with boundless charisma and incredible looks.

‘Never mind,’ she managed to choke out quietly, before raising her voice. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Judging by my sister’s comments, I’m not altog

ether convinced that’s a good thing.’ His lips twitched in amusement and Bridget found herself helplessly bewitched. ‘Let me assure you that whilst whatever I do in my downtime is my business, I am strictly professional when it comes to operations or exercises.’

‘Right,’ Bridget muttered.

And what did it say about her that a hint of disappointment rippled through her at Hayden’s reassurance? Or that his gaze slid lazily over her as though he could read her reaction in every line of her body.

‘Relax, no need to be nervous.’

‘I’m not,’ she lied, silently trying to bolster herself.

‘Is that so? Your shaking hands say otherwise but, trust me, I won’t bite.’

‘Not unless I want you to—isn’t that how the saying goes?’ The quip was out before she even realised what she was saying.

Something pulled sharply in his gaze, but Bridget couldn’t even begin to read it. She was too horrified at herself.

‘I’m sorry... I don’t...’