Page 1 of Mr. Strategic

Chapter One

“Oh yes, I’m looking forward to warmer weather so I can really get the garden in order.”

That was a lie. But it was the kind of lie you were supposed to tell at these events.

I thought gardening was boring. All our gardening was done by a very capable team of horticulture specialists. But it was the kind of thing a doctor’s wife living a life of luxury was supposed to care about.

And nothing less thanperfectionwas expected for the garden of every massive house in our exclusive gated community.

I turned to another one of the wives. Mrs. Sofia Garcia. 41. Wife of Dr. Jose Garcia. She was a stay-at-home wife. He worked in Cardiology. They both played a lot of tennis and we’d played doubles with them once.

After several years of marriage, these were the kind of details I tried to remember as a good doctor’s wife. Michael was too busy and important to learn all his coworker’s names, let alone their spouse’s names.

Yes, Dr. Carrington is still able to find time to play golf and tennis despite his intensive schedule.

Oh, he is very good at golf. Yes, he’s really good at everything, isn’t he? I love watching him play!

I am so lucky to be married to him.

Everyone loved the great Dr. Carrington.

Everyone wanted tobethe great Dr. Carrington.

I smoothed down my soft knee-length red skirt and matching long-sleeved red sweater, paired with red hose and boots and a delicate heart-shaped necklace. I always dressed up on theme for the hospital parties, and today was Valentine’s Day.

Today I had woken up early to bake and decorate six dozen sugar cookies. Of course, we could have afforded to pay a local bakery to do it, but I loved to bake. And I wouldn’t for the world have anything reflect poorly on Michael.

He had a wife whocaredabout the little things. He always had.

A wife who kept his home a peaceful respite from his intense, demanding job.

I was a very naturally shy person, but I had lots of practice now socializing with his work colleagues at events like this. But it didn’t mean it wasn’talwayseasier with my confident, assured husband next to me.

Some might even say cocky. Arrogant. But not in his hearing. Because he couldalwaysback it up.

And wasn’t it his confidence that made him such an exceptional surgeon?

But where was Michael now?

He should have met me at the party already. By thirty minutes ago, actually.

Had he even gotten anything to eat for lunch?

My husband was always so busy that I was happy to make sure he had everything he needed, everything he was too busy to do himself.

He must be in his office.

I made him a plate of food as I always did, and went to check.

The hospital hallways were dark and quiet as I passed by all the offices. Michael had one of the biggest ones, a corner office with a huge view of downtown St. Angeles.

The door was closed but he often did that to work on something undisturbed. And I knew he didn’t have any patient appointments this morning.

So I knocked gently, then opened it.

And Michael was there, with his back to me. He was standing up at his desk, leaning over one of the hospital nurses.

For a moment, I thought,