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Suddenly the room seemed too small.
Jago closed the door and stood with his back to it, his long, powerful legs spread apart, his expression unsmiling. Dominant, confident and unapologetically male, not by the slightest flicker of those sinfully dark lashes did he acknowledge that they’d ever been more than casual acquaintances.
‘Hello, princess.’ He spoke in a deep, masculine drawl that made Katy’s pulse race. ‘Running again?’
Katy’s soft lips parted and she struggled to sit up. She was in total shock. The subject of all her dreams and nightmares was suddenly confronting her. Jago, whom she’d thought about every waking minute for the last eleven years.
Jago, whom she’d never expected to see again.
Somehow he was standing in her hospital room, frighteningly imposing and super-handsome, displaying not the slightest discomfort at seeing her. Nothing in his body language suggested that he felt the smallest hint of guilt or remorse for the way he’d walked away from her without a word of explanation, leaving her so badly hurt that for a while she’d thought she’d never recover.
She could see that he was waiting for her to speak but she was totally unable to think coherently.
Over time she’d managed to convince herself that her starry-eyed view of him had been coloured by a hormonally driven teenage imagination. She’d decided that he couldn’t have been as gorgeous as she remembered.
She’d been wrong.
Jago Rodriguez was strikingly good-looking. He wore his glossy dark hair so short that in any other man it would have accentuated the faults in his facial features. But Jago didn’t have any faults. He possessed a bone structure that made artists drool and a physique that would have driven athletes to a state of mindless envy. He was impossibly, staggeringly handsome.
And to set him apart from the average man still further, he wore an exquisitely tailored suit that skimmed his wide shoulders and just shrieked of designer label.
In a strange moment of distraction Katy found herself wondering what happened if a patient was sick on it.
Growing hotter and hotter under his steady scrutiny, she lifted a hand to her aching head.
‘Wh-what are you—?’ She broke off, totally unable to believe his presence by her hospital bed. ‘I-I didn’t know you were a doctor,’ she croaked, and a dark eyebrow swept upwards.
‘Why should you?’
Why indeed?
After all, he’d chosen to walk out of her life without a backward glance or giving a forwarding address. To him the relationship had been over and he’d moved on. Unfortunately it hadn’t been so easy for her.
She dug her nails in her palms. ‘I assumed you were still in banking.’
‘I lost my taste for banking,’ he said smoothly, his dark eyes fixed on her pale face. ‘I changed career.’
So that was why her feeble, childish attempts to track him down had failed. She’d used all her contacts at the various banks but with no success. It had never occurred to her that he might have changed profession.
Katy blinked as she did the calculation in her head. If he was a consultant now then he must have started training immediately after he’d left her father’s company and he must have progressed fast. But, then, that didn’t surprise her. Jago had always been frighteningly clever.
‘Why medicine?’
And why this hospital, where she was going to see him every day?
She fought the rush of panic that threatened to swamp her and focused on his tie. Silk. Designer. Sufficiently muted not to induce a headache in a patient with a head injury.
‘I like the adrenaline rush. When you’re dealing with lives, the stakes are higher than in the money markets.’
He gave a careless shrug and she found her gaz
e drifting upwards to his powerful shoulders. If anything, he was even more spectacular than he’d been eleven years before. Jago Rodriguez was sex in the raw, so overwhelmingly masculine that just looking at him was enough to punch the breath from her body.
Appalled by her own thoughts and the traitorous stab of awareness that she felt low in her stomach, she looked away from him.
What was the matter with her? He’d been in the room for less than five minutes and already her insides were turning somersaults. Did she have absolutely no sense of self-preservation?
It depressed her that she could still react to him, knowing just how badly he’d hurt her. Weren’t doctors supposed to be warm and caring?
