It will take someone special…

…to thaw her frozen heart!

The Arctic Circle’s remote tranquility made it the perfect place for ex-army doc and former child star Annie Masters to open her clinic. But her cherished anonymity is ruined when celebrity surgeon Rafe Bradstone arrives in town! Seeing that she uses her work as a safe haven, dynamic Rafe seems determined to show her what she’s missing out on. And it’s working… She’s beginning to imagine a future—with him!

JULIETTE HYLAND began crafting heroes and heroines in high school. She lives in Ohio, USA, with her Prince Charming, who has patiently listened to many rants regarding characters failing to follow their outline. When not working on fun and flirty happily-ever-afters, Juliette can be found spending time with her beautiful daughters, giant dogs, or sewing uneven stitches with her sewing machine.

Unlocking the Ex-Army Doc’s Heart is Juliette Hyland’s debut title

Look out for more books from Juliette Hyland

Coming soon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Unlocking the Ex-Army Doc’s Heart

Juliette Hyland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90244-5

UNLOCKING THE EX-ARMY DOC’S HEART

© 2020 Juliette Hyland

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For my husband,

who always believed my stories

would land on readers’ bookshelves.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

DR. RAFE BRADSTONE shivered as he stepped to the door of the small plane. Pulling his scarf across his mouth, he bounced from foot to foot as he grabbed his duffel bag. The wind blasted his face as he stepped onto the Tarmac, and goose bumps rose across his body. The heavy jacket he’d acquired at the last minute in LA seemed pathetically inadequate. How did the residents of the Arctic get warm?

Stepping into the airport waiting area, Rafe sighed as warm air slid around him.

“Excuse me.” A woman with black curls pushed past him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop in front of the door.”

She didn’t hear him as she raced toward a pair of happy kids. The kids hopped around her, each trying to outshout the other as their father hugged her. The love pooling between the small family was evident—these children never had to fight for their mother’s attention.

Rafe’s stomach tightened and he forced his eyes away from the lovely scene. It had been over a year since he’d found his mother, and two hundred and sixty-one days since she’d ordered him off her porch. Rafe wanted to believe the pain of her abandonment would fade, but his heart was still raw.

The woman with dark curls placed one child on her hip and held the other’s hand as she walked out of the airport. That was the way it was supposed to be: a mother loved her children, wanted to be with them. Glaring at his hands, Rafe wondered why his mother didn’t react that way. What was wrong with him that his simple presence caused her pain rather than excitement?

His phone beeped. Burying the pain, he answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello, Carrie.”

His agent didn’t waste words on a greeting. “Why are there social media posts of you in Alaska?”

Rafe started to roll his eyes but caught himself. Carrie was supposed to be interested in his professional life. It wasn’t her fault this opportunity for him to serve in Blue Ash, Alaska, conflicted with his television duties, or that witnessing a family hugging their mom had put him in such a bad mood.

Keeping his tone level, he leaned against the wall. “Because I ran into a few fans of The Dr. Dave Show. They wanted a selfie, and I couldn’t say no.”

That wasn’t true. He could have said no, but Rafe never wanted to. Whenever someone ran up to him, phone outstretched and excited, Rafe got to be a part of their life—to belong. It only lasted a moment, but he treasured each fan who wanted a memory with him. They never told him to go away.

Rafe had accepted the part-time host position on Dr. Dave, a medical talk show promoting healthy living techniques, hosted by a bevy of attractive practitioners, to help pay off his medical school debts. The legion of daytime television fans was just a great perk.

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” The sound of Carrie’s nails clicking on her desk echoed down the phone.

Chuckling, Rafe ignored her tone. “I told you I was volunteering at an outpost clinic in Northern Alaska for a few weeks.”

“I assumed you were joking.” Her screech tore through the speaker. “You’re Dave’s favorite substitute host, and you’re scheduled to be on during the live Thanksgiving special!”

“I know my schedule.”

His stomach hollowed, and a sigh escaped his lips. Volunteering for the Thanksgiving and Christmas episodes was supposed to make him forget there wasn’t a chair waiting for him at anyone’s table, though it never worked.

“Rafe! Are you even listening to me? This is serious.”

“You’re pretty hard to ignore.”

Taking a deep breath, he stared out the window, letting his eyes roam the frozen landscape. Trees coated with icicles hugged the side of the airport, dropping loose snow along the cars in the parking lot.

Rafe shivered; he didn’t belong in Alaska. In his experience winter meant a windbreaker or a light sweater, not parkas and boots. He might need to wear all his socks just to keep warm.

But his cold feet were tomorrow’s obstacle. Sliding down the wall, Rafe tried to get comfortable while he tackled his current problem. “I am a doctor first, Carrie. Besides, I owe Dr. Freson.”

Jenn had covered for him during his disastrous visit with his mom. She had never asked why he suddenly needed an extra two weeks of vacation, or why he’d come back with no fun stories or pictures. He owed her, and the possibility that Dave might need him wasn’t a good enough reason for Rafe to refuse to help a friend.

“Today is the thirtieth of September. I’ll be gone four weeks—six at the most. That puts me back in LA in plenty of time for Thanksgiving.”

“Dave is looking to fill Dr. Bloom’s spot at the end of the season, Rafe. That job should be yours. And rather than fighting for it you’ve disappeared.”

Drumming his fingers on his knee, Rafe rolled his neck. He wanted that position. It wasn’t the money or the fame. Rafe wanted Dave and the producers to choose him. For them to look at the other remarkable candidates and decide he was the best. Maybe that would quiet his mother’s voice telling him he wasn’t enough.

“There are other hosts; I need to do this.”

Rafe frowned as Carrie sucked in a breath on the other end of the call.

“Rafe…” Carrie’s voice shifted to the tone she used when letting her clients know they hadn’t got a part. “Do you want me to issue a statement to the press? It isn’t fair that the tabloids are accusing you of infidelity. Your reputation shouldn’t be tarnished since Vanessa was the cheater.”

He didn’t want to discuss this topic either, but it was safer than worrying about Dave’s penchant for firing hosts.

“Vanessa didn’t cheat on me.” The lie slid through Rafe’s lips.

He’d met the movie star on the set of Dr. Dave six months ago. The paparazzi had loved getting pictures of the starlet and “her” doctor. She’d hidden her affair with another man—not that it had been hard to do. Their hectic schedules had resulted in more canceled plans than dates, but he’d assumed they were fine. She’d ended it over the phone while she giggled with her co-star and lover.

He hadn’t thought they needed to issue a public statement announcing their breakup. Vanessa had insisted. It had come as a nasty surprise when the tabloids had run a picture of him walking a patient to her car along with Vanessa’s publicity statement saying that they had parted ways.

Seeing his name trending with “cheating” headlines had cut deeply. He’d bought every trashy magazine in the corner store by his apartment so he didn’t have to see it. Rafe had always been faithful—always.

Vanessa could have corrected the assumption that he had cheated on her, accepted responsibility. He’d reached out to her a few times—unsuccessfully. If she hadn’t corrected the story by now, she wasn’t going to.

“My agent likes to remind me there’s no such thing as bad press.” Rafe blew onto his fingers.

Carrie clicked her tongue… “It does keep your name in the papers. Dave will like that.”

Rafe pinched his nose. He wanted Dave to like his presence on set, his interview style, his high ratings—not his ability to land in the tabloids. Still, if that was what it took to land the gig, Rafe would accept the tabloid smear—even if he hated their falsehoods.

“I’ll see you in a month.”

Carrie’s sighed. “A month is a long time in this town.”

“And yet it’s still only thirty days.”

Static rose on the line, and Rafe shook his head. His agent wasn’t great at goodbyes.

He smiled as a plump middle-aged woman rushed toward him. She danced on her toes while she waited for him to stand.

“Dr. Bradstone! It is you! I love The Dr. Dave Show. You should be on all the time. Your interviews are always the best. Better than Dave’s! Can I get a picture with you?”

“Of course.”

His soul felt a touch lighter as she slid her arm around his waist and his loneliness disappeared as she raised her cellphone. He owed this brief window of happiness to The Dr. Dave Show. Rafe was determined to get that fulltime host position and all the acceptance that came with it.

Patches of pink highlighted her cheeks as the woman stepped back. “Thank you.” Pushing a strand of salt-and-pepper hair from her face, she scrunched her nose. “I’m Helen Henkle and this is my husband, Jack.” She nodded toward a reed-thin man striding toward them. “We’re your ride to Blue Ash.”

Jack barely glanced at Rafe as he huffed, “You’re going to need better shoes if you want to keep all of your appendages.”

Variations on this theme had peppered Rafe’s conversations since he’d crossed the Alaskan border yesterday. The tingle of cold in his toes made it seem more dire now that he was in the Arctic Circle.

Staring at his shoes, Rafe moved his digits. “We don’t have much need for cold weather gear in Los Angeles.”

“Well, up here it can mean the difference between ten toes or two. Don’t want to explain to your grandchildren that you sacrificed a few toes rather than wear sensible boots.”

Helen slapped her husband on the shoulder before offering Rafe a smile. “A man can get around on eight toes.” Ignoring her husband’s frown, Helen waved her hand toward Jack’s feet. “It’ll be a good way to ensure your children or grandchildren always wear their boots.”

A flash of pain echoed across his belly as Rafe grabbed his bag and followed them onto the Tarmac. It didn’t matter how many toes he kept, there were going to be no grandchildren to look at his feet. His family tree didn’t have a great track record as parents, and Rafe didn’t plan to extend that legacy.

Helen giggled as she slid into the seat next to him in Jack’s tiny plane. “A real celebrity in Blue Ash. Well, if you don’t count—” Helen coughed and smiled at her husband.

“Dr. A is expecting us. If you and the Playboy Doctor are ready, we’ll get going.”

Playboy Doctor… That tagline had been assigned to him because it sold magazines and received website clicks, not because it was true.

“That isn’t a word I’d use to describe myself.” The defense slid from Rafe’s lips before he could stop it. He didn’t owe these strangers, or anyone else, an explanation.

“Of course.” The words were even, but the man’s lip twitched before he let his eyes slide over Rafe.

Rafe shifted, hating the ball of tension pooling in his belly. He’d been weighed and found lacking. Again… It shouldn’t matter. Rafe didn’t know Jack or Helen. Still his tongue itched to defend himself, to make them understand that Rafe knew what playboys were and how much damage they could cause.

After all, he looked just like a particular one—though the tabloids didn’t know that. To them it was a flashy headline. To Rafe it was a curse.

Rafe was his father’s doppelganger. His mother had referred to him as his father’s mini-me—though it hadn’t been a term of endearment. Rafe’s father had been an attractive professional dancer, and he’d been on the road constantly. His mother’s stable job as an accounting assistant had kept a roof over their heads, but with each new trip away for his father, each new booking, each lonely night, she’d become more vindictive.

When his parents hadn’t been arguing about his father’s many infidelities, they’d been yelling about Rafe. His mother would scream that she never got a break from being a mom—no fancy dancing getaways for her. His father would yell that he hadn’t wanted a kid anyway.

Neither of them had paid any attention to the small child in the corner. Rafe might not have understood everything they were screaming about, but he’d always known that his father hadn’t wanted him.

Why had he believed his mother had?

Rubbing his hands on his pants, Rafe tried to focus on the frozen scenery below. His father had died in a car accident with another woman a few days after his seventh birthday. A date neither of his parents had remembered, let alone celebrated. His mother had always constantly reminded Rafe of how he looked like the stupid cheater she’d married. She’d given up even trying to pretend she cared after that.

Infidelity had destroyed his family, and he would never repeat that mistake.

A few days before his eighth birthday, Social Services had taken custody of him. Rafe had bounced around the system until he’d aged out on his eighteenth birthday. He’d lived with many families but had never earned acceptance—never got to permanently belong. Now, when he was on set, he was the successful Dr. Rafe Bradstone, and for a little while that wound in his heart that had never closed bled a bit less.

Rafe was grateful no one attempted to make small talk on the short hop to Blue Ash. He needed to close off the pain twisting through him.

Rafe squinted as a small runway began to take shape ahead. “Are we going to land there?” The strip didn’t look wide enough to handle the small Cessna.

Patting the plane’s yoke, Jack grinned. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’ve landed my baby in much worse conditions.”

The broad smile spilling across Jack’s craggy features did little to calm the nerves dancing in Rafe’s belly. And as the wheels touched the ground they slid. Rafe’s cry of alarm echoed through the tiny cockpit, but his fear was quickly replaced with embarrassment as Jack pulled the plane to a perfect stop.

“That runway has one patch of ice and you aimed for it. There was no need to demonstrate your skill on ice!” a husky voice yelled over the sound of the slowing propellers.

“Gotta toughen up the newbie. This region doesn’t usually get stars whose faces are splashed across the tabloids.” Jack tossed Rafe’s bag to him as he turned to greet the young woman on the Tarmac.

“Tabloids are designed to make money, Jack, not to tell the truth.”

The tiny welcome party was buried in an oversize parka, and her bright orange scarf hid everything but her stunning gray eyes. She met Rafe’s gaze. The roar of the engine, the pilot’s judgement, even the bite of the wind as it stole through his jacket—all vanished as her eyes searched his.

“I bet you’re cold!” She motioned for him to follow her into what he assumed must be the clinic.

Heat marched up Rafe’s neck. He hadn’t even introduced himself—just stared at her. Matching her step, Rafe tried to think of a way to salvage this introduction.

“Welcome to Blue Ash.”

Red hair tumbled from the hood of the parka as the woman hung her coat on a hook.

“Thanks.”

Freckles danced across her nose, and Rafe sucked in a breath. His fingers wanted to trace each one. It was a ridiculous notion. She was exquisite, but so were many of the women in and around LA.

Fire erupted across his skin as he tried to regain his composure. He was not going to make a fool of himself. Rafe flashed a bright smile as he hung up his own coat. He would swear he knew her, but it was a crazy thought. Rafe didn’t know anyone in this state. His brain itched, urging him to find her name.

His heart sped up as his mind put the puzzle pieces together. He barely resisted the urge to slap himself. This Arctic goddess was a woman he and much of the world had once welcomed into their living rooms weekly.

“You’re Charlotte Greene.”

“I played the character Charlotte Greene.” The phrase didn’t sound bitter as it escaped her lips, just resigned—and exceedingly well rehearsed. “My name is Annie…”

“Right…”

Everyone knew who Annie was; she’d graced every teen magazine and even landed a cover for Vogue before she turned seventeen. He hadn’t meant to refer to her as Charlotte Greene. It had just popped out.

“I didn’t realize you were hiding in Alaska.”

Regret pooled around him as her full lips turned down. He was saying all the wrong things.

Annie crossed her arms as she lifted her chin. “I’m not hiding.”

Rafe raised a brow but didn’t argue. Dr. Freson had told him the Blue Ash Clinic was growing, but it served a community of less than six hundred. It was an odd place for the famous Annie Masters to put down roots.

“Your mom—”

Annie flinched as she interrupted him. “Carrie and I are not in regular contact. I cannot get you a meeting with her—and I doubt she represents television doctors.”

Television doctors… Vanessa had made the same comment. Rafe might not win any awards for his work on The Dr. Dave Show, but the show helped people. He was more than a television doctor.

“I don’t need an introduction.”

Annie nodded, but Rafe doubted she believed him. She crossed her arms before offering him a tight smile.

But Rafe was not going to let the early stumble ruffle him. Smiling, he offered his hand. He always loved it when his fans talked to him about Dr. Dave. Annie probably didn’t see many fans of My Sister’s House in Blue Ash. Maybe if he flattered her work she’d relax a bit.

“I grew up watching My Sister’s House. I’ve dreamed of meeting you since I was a kid.”

Heat tore through him as she held his gaze again. Gold sparkled at the edge of her gray eyes as they traced his body. The camera had never caught that glimmer. Annie Masters… The intense connection Rafe had imagined on the runway bowled through him again.

“Nice to meet you, then, Dr. Bradstone.”

Her cool tone rippled up his back. He was imagining their connection—just as he’d imagined a strong connection with Vanessa and his mother. He was not going to make that mistake again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Rafe straightened his shoulders. He didn’t need to impress her. He didn’t… He looked past her at the closed door to the back of the clinic.

Where was the doctor? He was supposed to be helping—not fumbling with words in front of a former starlet apparently now working as a receptionist in this remote Alaskan clinic.

Tipping his head toward the door, Rafe shrugged. “Is Dr. A with a patient?” He hoped his use of the nickname Jack had used for the doctor might lighten the uncomfortable mood in the small reception area.

“It’s Dr. Masters. Only my patients call me Dr. A.”

Annie’s sharp response slapped him.

“Dr. Annie Masters.”

She raised her chin, daring him to ask how a child star had landed in this position—here.

His stomach lurched as his brain searched for words. “Dr. Freson failed to mention…”

Annie let out a soft chuckle, before shifting back on her heels. “Well, Jenn does have a wicked sense of humor.”

“We need to get going.” The awkwardness in Helen Henkle’s statement carried across the room. She offered Rafe an uncertain smile as she continued. “If you need more supplies let us know, Annie. We probably only have a few more weeks of easy flights.”

Rafe hadn’t realized they’d followed them into the clinic. Rafe wondered if his star had faded a bit in Helen’s eyes now she’d witnessed this interaction. Then her final words registered against his cluttered brain. “Wait—what do you mean only a few more weeks?”

“Winter sets in early. If you aren’t out of here by the third week of November you might have to stay until mid-March, Dr. Bradstone.”

Annie Masters leaned against the reception desk, the corner of her lip twisted in what he thought was a smile. Was she challenging him? He couldn’t stay through the winter. He’d be in breach of contract if he missed the Thanksgiving and Christmas episodes of Dr. Dave.

“I have to be back in LA by the last week of November.”

Annie—Dr. Masters—nodded. “You should be fine. The worst of the winter is still weeks away.” Her hand ran along the torn skin of her thumb before she shrugged. “If you’re worried you don’t have to stay. Jenn will be here before winter really sets in.”

“And if she’s not?”

Annie’s shoulders tensed and her fingers trembled, but her face remained still. “I’ve handled four lone winters. It’s—” Again Annie pulled at the skin along her thumb. “I’m used to being by myself.”

Shifting on his feet, Rafe fiddled with the strap of his bag. “Lone?” Why did that worry him? Clearly she’d managed.

She shrugged, and Rafe’s heart ached. Loneliness was apparently Annie’s constant companion too. He’d learned to accept its presence after his mother’s abandonment—why had a popular child star been forced to learn the same lesson?

Annie gestured toward the door leading to the back of the clinic. “If you’re staying, your apartment is this way.”

She turned and walked through a side door. She left it standing open, but didn’t wait for him. This was a challenge—a test. She expected an LA television doctor to at least consider fleeing.

But Rafe was not going to be underestimated by Dr. Annie Masters. Hiking his bag up his shoulder, Rafe took off after her.

Annie hustled past exam rooms as she hurried toward the stairs leading to her apartment at the back of her clinic. She knew Rafe—Dr. Bradstone—would follow. The man was too cocky to flee—even if he wasn’t cut out for the Arctic. His jacket and shoes wouldn’t protect him. The clinic was on the edge of the Arctic Circle. By the end of next month it would be dangerous to be outside for more than a few minutes, even with proper winter gear. This life was not for everyone.

Still, when he’d landed she’d felt—

Annie bit her lip as she tried to understand why they’d stood on the runway staring at each other.

In that moment she’d felt warm, despite the chilly wind pushing against them. Her heart had sped up as if it was trying to escape her chest, though she doubted he’d noticed.

Rafe Bradstone was used to attention—lots of it. He was an excellent general practitioner—one of the best in LA. And his ties to the entertainment industry ensured anyone watching The Dr. Dave Show knew he was both skilled and gorgeous. He was constantly reaching out to his fans—and they seemed to be everywhere.

The clinic had fielded more appointment calls this week than it had for the last two months. Everyone wanted to see Dr. Bradstone. This was going to be her life for as long as Rafe was in residence. The man was a distraction—an exceptionally attractive distraction.

Why had Jenn sent Rafe as a temporary replacement? Annie had met her best friend on the first day of medical school. She’d been the only one to introduce herself and keep their conversation focused away from Annie’s days on set. Her friend was passionate about medical access for all, and she’d promised Annie the best replacement doctor for her clinic.

Maybe she should have asked for the second-best.

Annie clenched her fists as the selfish thought slid through her. Her patients weren’t as glamorous as the ones Dr. Bradstone usually treated, but they deserved the best. It wasn’t their fault Rafe had used his medical knowledge, self-assurance and good looks as a path to celebrity.

Blue Ash had seen a population boom since Rickon Oil had announced it was opening a satellite location just outside of the town. The clinic needed two doctors to see to the expanding list of patients. Finding a doctor willing to spend the winter in near darkness, with temperatures south of negative twenty degrees, wasn’t easy. Her last new hire had left her in the lurch, with winter quickly approaching. So when Jenn had offered to spend the winter with her in Blue Ash, Annie had quickly accepted.

Her friend had sworn that Rafe would help until the middle of November, and promised she’d be here by then. But what if Jenn decided she needed to stay in LA after she moved her father into his retirement home and Rafe left?

Swallowing the fear racing up her throat, Annie straightened her shoulders. She had overstated her confidence in spending the winter alone, but if she had to she would serve the community alone for another winter.

Passing the rows of silly photos and artwork her patients created, Annie resisted the urge to turn and gauge Rafe’s reaction. His office in LA was probably professionally decorated, but she loved her homey clinic. It didn’t matter what a celebrity doctor thought of her space—he was just a temporary Arctic resident.

When she’d first opened up, one of her young patients had painted a picture of Annie and her clinic. Annie was only recognizable by the crazy red curls on the stick figure’s head, and the clinic was an amorphous blob, but little Nicole had been so proud when Annie had placed it on the wall. And over the last several years the clinic had become a miniature art and photography gallery.

Walking up the stairs and pausing at the apartment door, Annie took a deep breath before turning around. Rafe was several steps behind her. Tipping her head, Annie pursed her lips. What was wrong with her? She’d dared him to leave. Not a good way to welcome the new doctor—even if he was an arrogant celebrity physician who’d called her Charlotte Greene.

That was a name that belonged to another lifetime, but Rafe wasn’t the first to call her by name of the character she’d played from the age of seven to eighteen. Still, it hurt that the first name out of this stunning man’s full, wind-chapped lips hadn’t been Annie.

Even after all these years away from the spotlight, the role her mother had secured for her daughter still haunted her. Carrie had managed Annie’s career right from her first commercial, and she’d had no plans to give up her position when her daughter had stepped into adulthood. So, in order to “help” Annie transition from child actress to adult superstar, Annie’s mother had sold pictures of her daughter sunbathing topless.

The story that went with them hadn’t talked about how Carrie had practically forced Annie onto the secluded “private” beach and criticized her tan lines until Annie had finally slipped off the bikini top. It had simply run with the headline Child Star All Grown Up—New Roles Pouring in for Annie Masters.

It had been the final straw. She’d known she had to do something—anything—to escape Carrie’s control.

And at eighteen she’d marched away from her mother and from Hollywood—literally. She’d walked into an Army recruiting office during her mother’s hair appointment and signed enlistment papers. The Army had been supposed to be Annie’s escape—instead she’d found her purpose, first as an Army medic and then as a doctor.

But stepping away from Hollywood hadn’t been easy. Annie had fought constantly to be taken seriously. She’d focused on proving herself in the field. Making friends had taken even longer. For a long time Annie hadn’t been allowed to have any privacy without being called a snob, or worse. She’d hated it that everyone had expected the bubbly, personable Charlotte Greene. It had been almost as if she’d failed them by not meeting their expectations—particularly men. A lot of them had grown up watching her—fantasizing about her.

Except it hadn’t been Annie any of them had wanted. In the decade since she’d left Charlotte Greene behind, only one man had seen past the character, and now he was gone too.

“I’m sorry. It was unfair to assume you weren’t the doctor here.” Rafe leaned against the wall, and ran his hand over his face. “And I apologize for calling you Charlotte Greene. I look forward to working with you, Dr. Masters.”

His apology stole a bit of Annie’s fire. And his reaction was normal—perhaps that was why it hurt so much. Maybe she still hoped to find someone who’d want Annie, not the character projected on a TV screen.

The role of Charlotte had given her financial independence, but how did you measure the cost of loneliness?

Wrapping her arms around herself, she nodded. Swallowing her pride, she offered a hand. “Want to start over?”

“Yes—but can you answer one question?”

“Ask away.” She braced herself for some inane question about Hollywood, or the show she’d worked on. It wasn’t his fault; it was what everyone wanted from her.

“Why am I still cold? I can feel the heat, but I swear my body refuses to accept it.”

A pool of happiness opened inside her as his dark eyes held hers. Rafe wasn’t going to press her for any Hollywood details. It was a simple gesture, but she appreciated it.

“Southerners can be so weak.” A small giggle escaped her lips. “It’s because your feet are damp. The rest of your body is trying to compensate.”

Resting his large hands on his hips, Rafe chuckled. “I don’t think California really counts as the south.”

The rich baritone of his chuckle filled the room, rushing through her body. Tingles raced down her spine and blood pounded through Annie’s ears.

Trying to ignore the unexpected uptick in her heartbeat, Annie shrugged. “Anything south of the Alaskan border is the south.”

How did anyone concentrate around this gorgeous man? Rafe was stunning! She hadn’t found anyone so attractive since Blake.

Her fiancé had been gone for years, but she’d kept a few of his things. During her first two winters in Blue Ash, Annie had worn Blake’s sweaters, and silly wool socks, not caring that they were four sizes too big for her. They were ridiculous items to keep, but donating them hadn’t seemed like an option.

Last winter she’d pulled them out but hadn’t worn any of them. Maybe it was time to finally clear out the drawers. Blake…

“Annie?”

Shaking herself free from the past, Annie took a step back. She needed to put a bit of distance between them. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Rafe moved closer, but he didn’t crowd her. “I said, aren’t you from California too?”

“Yes.”

Sandalwood and lemon erupted across her senses. Of course Rafe would smell as good as he looked.

Annie gestured to her own feet. “And it took three winters before people stopped telling me all the different ways I was likely to lose my toes. Although I feel honor bound to warn you—”

“My shoes aren’t made for winter. Several individuals have already informed me. So, in three winters I’ll be a regular Alaskan—assuming I upgrade my footgear?” He laughed as he spun around her small kitchen.

“Your Arctic experience so far already has you thinking of becoming one of us?”

Annie pursed her lips, unwilling to admit to the leap of fire darting across her belly. It would be nice to pretend someone else would land in Blue Ash and see it the way she did—recognize it as home. But that was not going to be Dr. Bradstone. He wanted spotlights and a fan base—not long winters and nightless summers.

“Is there a place to set this down or am I sleeping in the kitchen?” Rafe let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I fear it’s been a while since I slept on the floor, but I can manage.”

Annie motioned for him to follow her to the guest room. “Do you enjoy camping?” She’d slept on the ground many times during her Army service and didn’t particularly like it.

“No.” Rafe’s voice was strained as he laid his bag on the bed and began digging through it.

“Then why did you sleep on the floor? Was it a silly kids’ game?” Annie had worked all through her childhood, but she was always fascinated to hear about the imaginary games other kids had played to occupy their time.

“Didn’t always have a bed.” Rafe’s words were clipped.

Why hadn’t he had a bed?

Rafe didn’t elaborate as he grabbed another pair of socks.

Swallowing the questions stuck in her throat, Annie frowned at the thin socks in his hands. “You’re in the Arctic, Dr. Bradstone. You will lose your toes if you wear those.”

She turned to the closet. He might enjoy the trappings of celebrity, but she didn’t want him to suffer under her roof.

“Here.”

She tossed a pair of Blake’s thick wool socks to Rafe. Rafe pulled them on and sighed—just like Blake used to. She had always joked that her fiancé loved putting on socks more than anything else.

Annie’s heart clenched as Rafe slid his feet into the pair of boots she’d given him. Rafe wasn’t Blake. He was attractive, and she didn’t want him losing any toes on her watch. That was it.

“Do all Arctic residents maintain a supply of socks for us weak southerners?” Rafe smiled as he stood.

“No.” The bell at the front of her apartment saved Annie from finding a reason for the socks. She didn’t talk about Blake—ever.

“Dr. A? We need you.”

A scream echoed up the hall as she raced for the front of the clinic, Rafe close behind her.

She saw Danny Mills’ eyes dart quickly to the newcomer before shifting back to Annie. “I was moving some of the food drums for the animals and one fell. I didn’t—”

“Who’s hurt and where?” Annie interrupted as she looked behind him. She’d talk to Danny about the accident later—now she needed facts.

Danny’s lower lip trembled. “Grandpa Mac. He tried to catch the drum, but it landed on his leg. It’s bleeding—bad. Jeremiah’s bringing him in now.”

Before Annie could say anything, Rafe rushed for the door—without his coat.

“Not a smart move…” Danny’s whispered words held a faint hint of admiration as the door slammed shut.

Annie sighed. Rafe’s decision was foolish. It was just the sort of showboating one might expect of a doctor on a television show. Still, she admired Rafe’s dedication.

“Direct them into Room Three, Danny. I’m going to grab supplies.”

Annie maintained only a small supply of blood. She knew Mac was O positive, but she quickly double-checked his chart. Any injury was going to slow him down heading into winter preparations. And the older man would refuse to take any days of vacation or rest. She mentally ran through a few arguments that might convince the hard worker to let his legion of children and grandkids do the heavy lifting for a week or so. Maybe Rafe could try his hand.

Another scream tore through the clinic, and Annie’s fingers fumbled with the stitches she was laying out. Mac’s pain tolerance was legendary. And people often overestimated the amount of blood their loved ones had lost. But what if Danny hadn’t?

“Annie!”

Rafe’s call sent shivers of fear down her spine as she grabbed the blood and ran from the room.

“What’s…?” The word died on her lips as she stumbled into Room Three.

Mac’s face was ashen. A jagged cut ran from his ankle to just below his knee, but the bone wasn’t visible in the coating of blood. That was good.

“How much of this is dried blood?” Annie pushed past Danny and Jeremiah, deposited the blood bag on a hook and moved to Rafe’s side.

The wound needed to be cleaned, and it was going to require at least two dozen stitches. It was a simple fix, but with the amount of blood he’d lost…

Annie let those thoughts slide away as she looked to Rafe.

“Most of it—but there is still one bleeder up by the knee.”

“What’s that mean?” Danny’s frightened voice swelled through the room.

“It means I need Dr. A’s help to treat your grandfather.” Rafe nodded to the teenager. “Can you and Jeremiah go get your grandmother?”

Danny’s face lit up with relief and purpose as he pushed toward the door. “We’ll be back real soon.”

She shot a quick smile at Rafe. Mac’s grandsons were too antsy to be allowed to stay, but Rafe had given them a job to complete rather than an order to vacate the room. It had been the right move, and Annie was grateful.

Turning her attention to Mac, Annie stepped up next to the bed. “We need to clean the wound, Mac, so Dr. Bradstone and I can get a better look. Then I think it’s best if we move you into the operating theater. You’re going to need a number of stitches and the light is better in there.”

“You sure? Maybe just a Band-Aid?” Mac offered a soft smile as he grimaced.

“It’s good you’re still making jokes.” Rafe winked at Mac before turning to Annie. “What would you like me to do? Clean or suture?”

Mac gripped Annie’s hand. “Stay with me.”

“Looks like you’re suturing.” Annie smiled at Mac before looking up to Rafe. “The sutures are laid out in the theater—it’s the second to last door on the right.”

Rafe nodded as he headed to the door. “I’ll go get everything ready. I still can’t believe I’m working with…” The words faded as Rafe disappeared through the door.

Unfortunately Annie’s mind had no trouble supplying them. Everyone always wanted Charlotte Greene.

But Rafe was a temporary clinician—a man who wanted the fancy lights of Tinseltown. It didn’t matter that he wished she was someone else.

It didn’t.

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