Page 4 of Beneath the Scars

In my experience, nightclubs were mostly filled with people whosawmy scar in loud technicolor glory.

"Uh. Maybe another time," I hedge, caught in an awkward position. I can't claim I have other plans because Ijusttried to make plans for tomorrow night. But I do want to try and make this new friendship work.

Time for honesty, Lilly.

I can practically hear my sister Becky's voice in my head, and I always listen to her advice.

"It's not really my scene. Too many people that... uh... stare." Unable to keep my hand away now, my fingers softly touch the pink lines.

Jayne's eyes fall to where my hand traces my scar, her eyes filled with sympathy.

"People are idiots. Fine, we won't go to Club Crimson. But it is Friday, and I do want to get dressed up. That's what we'll do. After work, you'll come over to my place. We'll playProject Makeoverand drink way too many glasses of wine." She grabs my hand and squeezes it. "My nails are in terrible need of a manicure, and I need a girlfriend to sit with me as I agonize over which color to pick. I won't take no for an answer."

My laughter bubbles over, and I give in. "Fine. Manis and wine. I'll bring the pizza and snacks."

Jayne rewards me with a smile, and we continue to discuss finer details like the importance of ranch dressing (very) and what toppings do not ever belong on pizza (anchovies). We're in the middle of a hearty debate over red versus white wine when the large main door swings open, and none other than Agent Scott walks in.

"Time to get to work," I say to Jayne, forcing my smile to stay in place. Her eyes drift to my mouth, and she must see through the mask because her face hardens when she looks at Agent Scott.

"Dr. Gale," he says, nodding at Jayne before lifting his chin to acknowledge Karl.

"Want me to stick around?" She grips my hand again, her eyes jumping between me and Agent Scott. I squeeze her fingers before pushing up from my seat.

"I'm good, Jayne. You go on home. I'll see you tomorrow. Enjoy The Circle."

She sends me one more concerned look before piercing Agent Scott with a glare. "Okay, honey. See you tomorrow." And she flounces out, her white lab coat flapping behind her as her heels clack on the linoleum, signaling her departure.

Chapter Four

Lillian

It'shardnottolaugh at how Jayne exits the room, especially considering it's a novel experience for me to have someone on my side so wholeheartedly. But one look at Agent Scott quickly brings me back down to earth.

Faced with his too-handsome appearance brings all those same unsettling feelings back. My hackles instantly rise, and I'm on the defensive, and he's hardly said anything.

Maybe that's it, though. Perhaps it's the fact that he's precisely the kind of guy who used to get so much satisfaction from bullying me and pushing me down all through med school and through my rotation in the hospital.

Agent Scott is the definition of male beauty. He has a broad chest, barely contained by the well-tailored suit, and is tall enough to be on the wrong side of imposing. Deep, impressive brows frame the lightest blue eyes I've ever seen.

Not that I've taken too much time to look at his eyes, though.

And if that isn't enough, he has that Clark Kent dimple in his strong, manly chin that makes women go all ga-ga.

"I was surprised to hear from you tonight," he starts, putting a large brown paper bag on my desk. "And I didn't think to ask before cutting the call, so I just got a few different options from the menu, so I hope you like Thai."

"Thanks," Karl mutters, lumbering to the desk. "We skipped lunch because we were waiting for you. I'm starving." He picks up the paperbag and digs through it taking out a selection of containers before handing two to me. "Here. Eat. Or you'll pass out over the body."

I smile at my assistant before taking the food and utensils he passed over. I should thank Scott for the food, or better yet, I should refuse it altogether, but Karl is right. We missed lunch, and there was no way I'd make it if I didn't get something in me soon.

The FBI agent picks up the now nearly empty paper bag, and I have to swallow down the laugh that wants to bubble up at his bemused expression when he takes out the one lonely box filled with fried rice.

Looking down at the boxes Karl had offered me, I shrug before taking out some paper plates from my desk.

"Here. We'll share," I say as I offer my curry and spring rolls. He carefully smiles before offering me the rice to put on the plates.

There's no reason why you can't show good manners,Becky's voice says, sounding a little proud of me.

Dinner is quiet and awkward. I don't have anything to say to the man, and I think I've dished up enough sarcasm and bitchiness that he's too weary to try and strike up some kind of small talk with me.

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