Page 2 of Unexpected Chances
“It’s not Nicole,” Dylan said, drawing attention to himself at last.
She inhaled sharply and turned around fast. Shock, pleasure and anger all flashed across her features until finally she folded her arms across her chest, schooling her face into a blank mask. Just not soon enough to prevent him from discovering she still had a variety of feelings for him, and he hoped to tap into the more pleasant ones.
“Dylan,” she said, having regained her composure.
He inclined his head. “Holly. How’ve you been?”
She narrowed her gaze, obviously assessing him. “Is that really the best opening line you could come up with?” she asked, then chuckled, a sound he knew was forced because it lacked the warmth and genuineness he remembered.
It didn’t count as the laugh he’d promised himself. He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I tossed some old line your way.”
* * *
Holly nodded slowly, still unable to believe Dylan had come to see her here. She knew all about his return; how could she not when it was all her patients could talk about? But she didn’t think he’d bother to look her up.
She tried to breathe steadily, a nearly impossible feat when he was still so good-looking, sexy and, damn him, charming in person. His raven hair had barely any gray and those blue eyes were just as bright.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have appreciated a flip line,” she said, surprised that he remembered how important honesty was to her, when he’d forgotten all about truthfulness in his rush to leave all those years ago.
She and Dylan had a history she’d never been able to forget. They’d met at thirteen, when Dylan’s family had moved to town, started dating at sixteen, begun sleeping together at seventeen and by eighteen and their high-school graduation, Holly had been planning their happily ever after.
She’d go to Yale University and then to medical school like her father and his father before him, and though Dylan hadn’t chosen his college yet, he’d go close by, major in theater arts or drama, and they’d stick together as he tried for a career on Broadway. They’d have a house, kids and a happy life. That had been their plan, or so she’d thought until she woke up the day after graduation with a good-bye letter in her mailbox. A note on a flimsy sheet of paper, hastily written as if she’d meant nothing to him at all.
He’d been her first love, and he’d unceremoniously dumped her with the printed words A high-school crush was never meant to last. It’s time we both move on. Dylan. Not even Love, Dylan.
Then he’d gone on to change his name from Dylan Northwood to Dylan North and quickly became America’s heartthrob, staring at her from the cover of every magazine in the supermarket and drugstore.
Now he stood before her. Holly exhaled slowly, trying not to let Dylan see that his return had her trembling.
He stared with the half smile, and the dimple America adored, on his face. “How about a hello hug for an old friend?” he asked with more than a hint of challenge in his voice.
Touching him would be like looking for an electric shock, but if she turned him down, he’d assume she still had feelings for him. Which she didn’t, she assured herself. None at all.
Liar. “Yeah, I think I could manage a hug. For a friend,” she added, more for her benefit than his.
She stepped forward and was immediately surrounded by his heady masculine scent and engulfed by his strong arms and a wealth of emotion she’d tried hard to bury. Her cheek nestled into the nubby wool of his sweater, and his jean-clad thighs brushed against her light slacks.
Shaking, she stepped back before she embarrassed herself, the practiced smile she reserved for her most trying patients on her face. “So what brings you by?”
His steady gaze met hers. “I couldn’t come home without seeing my Midnight Angel… I mean, without seeing you again.”
She swallowed hard, his use of the endearment taking her off guard. Dylan’s father had walked out when he and his sister were young, only to return again for another try. When that second chance failed a few weeks before Christmas their junior year in high school, his mother had broken the star on their Christmas tree in frustration. Holly had bought the family an angel to put on top instead. New memories to replace the old, she’d explained when she’d given it to him at midnight on Christmas Eve.
He’d called her his Midnight Angel.
She’d believed they would last forever.
She shivered and forced herself back to the present. “Well, I’m glad you came by. It was good to see you again.” And it would be just as good to have him gone. “As you can see, I was just finishing up here. I’ve had a long day.”
She was sure she looked as exhausted as she felt, yet somehow she resisted the urge to fix her hair or excuse herself and run to her office to touchup her makeup. This was who she was. No sense hiding it. Though she considered herself attractive on a good day, today wasn’t one of those days.
The Hollywood hunk might have dated her once, but the gorgeous women he saw daily and at award shows and premieres made her look like roadkill in comparison. Especially in contrast with Melanie Masterson, the actress the magazines constantly paired him with.
He glanced at his watch. “Actually, I was hoping you had time for one more patient today.”
“You?” she asked, surprised. He didn’t look sick.
“Flu shot. I never managed to get one before I left L.A.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets and grinned at her like an adorable little boy who’d forgotten his lunch money and was begging for a loan.
