Page 42 of Healing the Heart

He glanced her way in disbelief and rudely blurted out, “You’re shitting me.”

Her head swung around. In wide-eyed wonder at his reaction, she replied, “No. Why would I?”

“Have you worked there long?”

“About six months.”

“Then you’ve never met Dr. Richmond, the founder?”

“I haven’t yet had the pleasure. He’s very busy with charitable works, I’m told.”

When he stopped at the light, he turned slightly toward her and held out his hand. “You’ve had the pleasure now.”

She automatically took it but blinked in complete consternation. “I don’t understand.”

“Fiona. I’m Dr. Noah Richmond.”

She gaped at him and then exclaimed, “Now you’re the one who is shitting me!”

He burst out laughing. “I shit you not, sweetheart.” Then, loathe to do so, he released her hand and faced front because the light changed.

THEY DROVE IN SILENCE. Noah focused on the traffic, which was heavy at midmorning. Only four miles away, it took them twenty minutes to reach the NE police station. Fiona stared out the window without noticing how they got there. She was too preoccupied, puzzling over what twist of fate had brought her to this point.

How did a dominant at the club, who she wanted so badly her bones ached but avoided for weeks because she mistakenly believed larger girls weren’t his cup of tea, who she insultedrepeatedly and was now her bodyguard, end up being her boss?Holy crap!

“We’re here,” he announced, turning off the engine.

When she looked through the window, she saw a sign for a coffee shop, and it was located directly across from the police precinct.

“You need to have something on your stomach, even if it’s just toast. Afterward, if you’re up to it, we’ll walk over. Parking closer isn’t happening.”

It was past the breakfast rush, so they were seated right away and a server quickly arrived to take their order. Noah asked for two eggs, bacon, and coffee.

“And for you, dear?” the waitress asked.

“Coffee,” she said when it was her turn. Adding, “And whole wheat toast with strawberry jam,” when he arched a dark-blond brow at her.

When she walked away, he leaned toward her. “My last name changes nothing.”

“Except that it’s on my paycheck. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together.”

“I’m only there a few times a year, unless I have a patient I need to see. Mostly they come to me at the office. Board meetings are held off-site, as are charity events. You have the same director and supervisor overseeing your work as before, neither of whom is me.”

“Have you ever...”

“Provided protection services to an employee. No.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I’ve never encountered an employee at the club, either. But if I had, the same rules would have applied.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Don’t overthink this.”

She rubbed her temples. “I’m surprised I can think at all.”

“Me too, after going forty-eight hours without sleep.”

“You’ve got your hands in a lot of pots. How do you manage it all?”

“I’m good at juggling,” he replied, shrugging it off.

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