Heart Melter Read Free

love. Think of him as a doctor, nothing more.
    When he finished tending the wound, he straightened and folded his arms over his chest. “When was the last time you ate?” His keen eyes bored into hers.
    “I had breakfast this morning. Why do you ask?” She drew aside the light blanket to inspect the large bandage wrapped around her thigh
    He studied her with thoughtful deliberation. “You passed out earlier and you’re thinner than I remember. Have you been on some crazy diet?”
    “No, of course not,” she said, wincing as she sat up. “It’s all the dancing I’ve been doing.” She wasn’t about to divulge that Simon had rudely told her, “Better not lose those round tits and ass, babe. The role calls for it.”
    Ian’s dark brows furrowed. “You used to love food.” His elegant surgeon’s hand turned her face toward him and his eyes settled on hers with the familiarity born of intimacy. Their eyes locked like lovers, electrified by the memory of their ill-fated passion years ago when his mere touch could set her on fire. The feel of his long fingers gently touching her face made Natasha’s heart hurt. His unswerving gaze was fathomless as he stared at her.
    “I still do.” She drew in a heavy sigh and broke eye contact as she struggled to tether unraveling emotions. Did he remember how amazing it had been between them? Even in his sterile office, and despite the sharp headache budding behind her eyes, Ian aroused turbulent emotions inside her. She felt hot and cold and shaky at once reliving the memory of their heartbreaking split. He’d been her first and only love. No man she’d dated since had filled his shoes…or captured her heart. Especially not the last guy she’d dated. Tony Martin had been the exact opposite of Ian. Try as she might to forget Ian by dating Tony, it hadn’t worked—especially when Tony revealed his violent personality. After he unleashed his nasty temper on her, she ended things right away.
    Natasha’s phone beeped with a text message bringing her back to her present predicament. On the way to Ian’s office, between panicking and fighting nausea, she’d texted the stage manager and alerted Elisha that she’d had a minor accident and would be late.
    “Will I be able to dance tomorrow?” she asked, fighting the urge to check the text.
    “No. Not for several days.”
    “Several days?” Her shoulders slumped in spite of her resolve to be strong.
    He frowned. “Do you want the wound to open again?”
    “No, but…” How could she tell him this show was crucial to her career, when it was her career that had been the catalyst of their break-up?
    “Follow my directions and you’ll be as good as new. When was your last tetanus shot?”
    Natasha shrugged. “A long time ago. Just before summer camp.” A vision of Simon’s snarling face suddenly made her frantic to leave. She swung her legs over the side. “I have to get back to rehearsal.”
    “You’re not leaving until you get a tetanus shot. And you’re not going to rehearsal today.” Ian’s steely eyes brooked no arguments. He was annoyingly authoritarian, yet a brilliant physician and a born healer. She had a scrapbook filled with newspaper and magazine articles about Dr. Ian MacGregor, the eminent laser surgeon and dermatologist, who worked magic removing disfiguring scars and birthmarks. His recent laser invention had catapulted him into celebrity status and garnered him billions. 
    But it was his work with underprivileged children and adults that made Natasha’s heart swell with pride. Since she’d last seen him, he had traveled extensively with Doctors Without Borders and The Smile Train, removing the stigma of disfiguring cleft palates and port wine birthmarks for those who couldn’t afford it. Ian would insist on not letting her leave until he could “fix” whatever was wrong with her, but she couldn’t stay a moment longer.
    “I don’t want a shot. I have to leave now!” Not going to