He straightened his doctor’s coat over his scrubs, grateful for the singular mercy of the baggy clothes. Not that his hard-on hadn’t taken a lightning-fast hike at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway, but at least it gave him a second to think. Nope. He’d been uncharacteristically impulsive, and the only way out of this was to face the music. “Sorry. We were, ah. Just finishing up our meeting.” Blake flicked a glance over Jules, who had slipped quietly from the desk to re-order the buttons on her shirt but had yet to turn around. “You remember Julianna Shaw, don’t you? It turns out she’s the manager at Mac’s Diner. She wrote the catering proposal for the Carnival For A Cure.” Both women flinched, but his mother recovered first, her eyes tapering over the weary shadows lining her cheekbones. “Well, this is a surprise. I can’t say I expected to see you again, Ms. Shaw.” Blake’s brows shot upward.
