“My family wanted me to finish my undergraduate degree and then pursue a master’s.” I reveal one of my secrets. “They wanted my success to be their own.”
His gaze cuts back to mine, sharp enough to pin me in place.
“They put a lot of pressure on you,” he surmises.
I nod and continue my confession, the words tumbling from my lips as though I can’t help myself.
“My parents never really cared about my art. They just wanted to be able to tell people that their daughter’s a successful artist.”
“My family had certain expectations for me too,” Dane says, offering me a small confession of his own.
I latch onto it like a lifeline. A sense of intimacy blossoms between us, and the promise of this connection is as seductive as his heated gaze. I crave more, so I press, “And you defied them?”
He inclines his head. “I’m here, aren’t I? An ocean separates us, and I prefer it that way.”
I’ve only managed to move a few cities away from my family, but I’m determined to live my life separately from them. This shared, painful history with Dane takes my breath away.
He takes a sip of his old fashioned, and I mirror him, allowing the moment of kinship to settle between us.
He commands my full attention, and I’m hyperaware of him: his intoxicating scent swirling around me on the light breeze, the setting sun illuminating his green eyes, the subtle brush of his arm against mine.
He’s being respectful of my space, allowing me to dictate the contact while staying close enough to maintain our simmering connection.
I want to trust Dane, despite everything I’ve been through at the hands of dangerous men.
He came to my rescue at the market. He’s protective, even if he is imposing.
I decide to push for more information. “So, you came to Charleston to practice medicine? Didn’t you like Baltimore?”
He takes another sip of his drink, as though he’s considering his answer. I do the same because I’m feeling slightly jittery. I don’t want to ruin this moment between us with inane chatter.
“I value the education I received there,” he says. “My time in Baltimore gave me the skills I needed to pursue the life I want.One of my colleagues is from Charleston, so when he asked me to move here and form a private practice with him, I said yes.” He fixes me with that wicked half-smile. “I’m still fairly new to the area. You can show me around.”
He’s charming enough that it doesn’t sound like a command, even if it isn’t exactly a question. Why would I argue with him about his imperious manner when I’m eagerly hanging on to his every word?
“What kind of medicine do you practice?” I ask, anticipating more intimate confessions from him. “You must really care about helping people if you chose to move to a strange city and start from scratch.”
The slight shake of his head is a touch self-deprecating, and I think he’s going to dismiss my enthusiastic description of his altruism.
“Like I said, it’s just a job,” he reiterates. “I chose plastic surgery because I’m good at it.”
My heart sinks.
“Oh,” I reply, and my voice is a touch cooler than I intend. “I didn’t realize that’s your area of expertise.”
I’m not sure if I can stomach it if he’s chosen a profession where he gives people fake masks to present false perfection to the world.
The image of my grandmother’s strangely stretched features fills my mind. She’d never looked like herself after the facelift. And my mother’s perpetually frozen expression haunts my most anxious nightmares—even when she’s feeling especially cruel, her face remains disturbingly serene from years of Botox treatments.
We need to get that large freckle on your cheek removed, Abby. Imagine having the blemish in your wedding photos. You don’t want that. And you’ll find a husband more easily once it’s cleared up.
The snide comments about my own physical flaws tease at the back of my mind, tainting the moment with Dane. The reality of him might not be as perfect as I’ve imagined in the months since he first walked into the café.
12
DANE
“Are you going to tell me why my career bothers you?” I ask, keeping my voice bland and nonconfrontational.
