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It wasn’t just an art he’d honed as a doctor, and a surgeon; it was a skill he’d been perfecting his entire life. A logical defence mechanism given the way his father had always looked on him as an abomination.
From as early as Liam could remember, his curt old man had pounded into him the need to be something, do something, prove that his life was worth his mother losing hers. An angry, scornful, grief-stricken man who had never been able to get over the death of the one love of his life; or the fact that it had been his infant son who had caused it.
As a child, he had believed every cruel word of it. By the time he’d grown into an adult it had been too late. His own grief and guilt had permanent squatting rights in his chest, like the kind of dark, ugly, twisted twin gargoyles that had adorned the gothic buildings of his childhood boarding school.
He had realised long ago that nothing he could ever do would ever be enough to satisfy his father, or make up for his mother’s death. But the need to try had ended up giving him an incredible career and turning him into the rising star surgeon that he was today. So in some perverse way he was grateful for those ruthless lessons.
And if, on a social level, people thought him cold and detached, what had that mattered? He’d accepted that love was never going to feature heavily in it. He didn’t trust it when people said it to him, and he certainly wasn’t capable of giving it back.
Until Talia.
Even now, something stirred deep down, even further inside him than the blackness of that hollow pit where he pretended the worst of his guilt and shame did not reside.
Kissing her would have been a miscalculation of gargantuan proportions.
Because the truth was that he had never felt more rattled, his thoughts charging around his head like some trapped wild animal—desperate to break out. But wasn’t that the way Talia had always made him feel?
As though his entire life—until her arrival—had been a cage. And she had been the key to unlocking it and finally setting him free.
Now, though, his body felt so tense and coiled that he might as well have gone several rounds in a ring, even though he hadn’t boxed since boarding school, and certainly not from the moment he’d realised he’d wanted to become a surgeon.
He felt as though he needed to break out of his own skin.
Having managed to navigate the identical marble corridors back to the indecently opulent consultation room that Nate had just allocated to him, Liam strode inside. Every inch of this place oozed money. A place designed for the celebrity elite. It was such a far cry from the way the rest of the island lived; no wonder Nate had set up the foundation, using the income generated by The Island Clinic to fund an outreach programme to provide better care to the rest of the community.
He reached behind him and closed the door firmly, letting his hand rest there just a little longer. As if satisfying himself that the piece of furniture was closed enough to also shut out the deluge of memories that had threatened to crash over him ever since he’d stood in that doorway and seen Talia inside.
Of course it didn’t work—the images swept in all the same. Those vibrant colours were everywhere, and their songs of exuberance, and joy, and vitality were as resonant as ever.
He threw himself down into his ridiculously luxurious chair, his too-long legs stretched out in front of him, disgusted with himself, and angrily schooling his thoughts.
Contempt flooded through him. He was insane, acting like some kind of hormone-ravaged adolescent. He hadn’t come here for a woman. He had barely even remembered that Talia had once told him she originally hailed from this glorious island of St Victoria.
Liar, a voice said in his head.
He ignored that, too, instead reminding that snide internal voice that the only reason he was here was because any case at The Island Clinic was a good career opportunity for him. The next step in his bright career. In his future.
Talia Johnson was his past. He’d barely pieced himself back together after she’d left him, Liam thought as he staunchly ignored the pounding that now felt as though it was about to burst its way through his skin.
So the past was exactly where she needed to stay.
CHAPTER THREE
THE KNOCK ON his door came much sooner than he’d anticipated. Though he immediately recognised that he had anticipated it.
What he hadn’t expected was for the door to open and for Talia to step inside before he could even answer.
‘I believe it’s customary to wait for the person inside to answer.’ He raised hi
s eyebrows, but at least his voice felt more even now. More controlled.
The way it should be.
He just had to remember that coming to The Island Clinic was about a case, a career opportunity—whatever this sorceress of a woman said by way of atonement.
Talia, however, didn’t appear in the least bit apologetic. Instead, she kept coming at him boldly.
‘I might have waited,’ she threw at him, ‘if I hadn’t thought you’d leave me waiting out there all day.’
