Discovering Dr Riley
Unlocking the brooding doc’s heartAfter a childhood spent in foster care, art therapist Corrine Evans knows how important first impressions are. So when her enigmatic new boss Dr Tom Riley questions the impact her work can make Cori is intent on proving her value!But as Cori gets to know this devoted doc she realises there’s a dark shadow haunting Tom’s past. And as he begins to let her in Cori discovers there’s so much more to Dr Riley than she ever dared dream…
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‘A compelling, emotional and highly poignant read that I couldn’t bear to put down. Rich in pathos, humour and dramatic intensity, it’s a spellbinding tale about healing old wounds, having the courage to listen to your heart and the power of love that kept me enthralled from beginning to end.’
—Goodreads on Once Upon a Christmas Night …
‘A lovely story—I really enjoyed this book, which was well-written by Annie, as always.’
—Goodreads on Re-awakening His Shy Nurse
‘Well-written, brilliant characters—I have never been disappointed by a book written by Annie Claydon.’
—Goodreads on The Rebel and Miss Jones
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to do that again?’
‘This?’ She kissed Tom’s cheek again.
‘Yeah.’ He didn’t move his hands from the countertop, but dipped his head to touch his lips to her forehead. All Cori could think about was making this real. Letting go of the pretence and doing the one thing she wanted to do. She slid her hand over the soft wool of his sweater, up to the collar of his shirt. At the first touch of her fingers on his skin she heard his uneven intake of breath.
When she curled her arm around his neck, pulling him down towards her, he drew her in close, making sure that she felt his body against hers before she had a chance to feel his lips. He wanted her. The knowledge spilled into her like bright light penetrating a very dark place. He wanted her.
For me, writing isn’t just a job—it’s a lifeline. When something’s bothering me I write it down. When I’m happy about something I write it down. For as long as I can remember the page has been my faithful confidante.
So I can understand how Cori Evans operates. As an art therapist she is used to helping children express themselves through the medium of art, and her painting expresses her own thoughts and feelings as well. But Tom Riley’s burden of secrets is her greatest challenge yet.
I hope you enjoy this book—it’s one I’ve long wanted to write. I always enjoy hearing from readers, and you can contact me via annieclaydon.com.
Annie x
Cursed with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. A degree in English Literature followed by a career in computing didn’t lead directly to her perfect job—writing romance for Mills & Boon—but she has no regrets in taking the scenic route. She lives in London: a city where getting lost can be a joy.
To Lynn
With thanks for helping me count the days
Table of Contents
‘DO ME A FAVOUR …’
There was more than a hint of flirtatiousness about the tone of the request, but Tom Riley knew that Dr Helen Kowalski’s designs on his person were far from recreational. A Sunday afternoon, a doctor at a loose end and a phone call from a busy A and E department added up to only one thing.
‘You want me to come down and see someone?’
‘If you’re not busy on the ward. We’ve got a kid here who’s driving everyone crazy.’
‘And since he’s under sixteen, you thought you might pass him on to me.’ Tom smirked into the phone. ‘Because awkward customers are my speciality.’
Helen snorted with laughter. ‘I could say something about it taking one to know how to deal with one.’
‘If you do, I’m going home. I’m not even supposed to be at work today.’
‘Get down here, Tom.’ A crash sounded from somewhere in the background and Helen muttered a curse. ‘Please …’
‘I’m already on my way.’
The source of all the trouble turned out to be eight years old, with a shock of red hair. He was sitting on the bed in one of the cubicles, swinging his legs. Tom gave him a wide berth to avoid being kicked, and smiled at the woman sitting next to him.
‘I’m Dr Tom …’ He winced, stepping back as he realised that he’d underestimated the reach of the boy’s flailing feet.
‘I’m so sorry … Adrian, please don’t do that, you’ll hurt someone.’ It looked as if Adrian’s companion had come straight from some half-completed DIY project, with her dark hair fastened at the back of her head and bound with a scarf. Paint-stained overalls had been slipped from her shoulders, with the sleeves tied around her waist, to reveal a Fair Isle sweater with a darn at one elbow.
‘No harm done.’ Tom dismissed the urge to rub his leg where Adrian had kicked him. ‘What brings you here?’
When she looked up at him, it registered that she had violet eyes. Whatever had brought her here seemed suddenly unimportant.
‘It’s Adrian.’ She turned wearily to the boy, laying her free hand on one flailing leg in an attempt to restrain him. Tom noticed that the other was held fast in Adrian’s own hand. ‘He’s hit his head. There’s a lump.’
‘Okay.’ Tom wondered whether Adrian was usually this badly behaved. ‘Anything else? Any change in his demeanour?’
