Page 9 of Hot Doctor & Secret Baby

"That's fine, Sheila. Call my lunch appointment and tell them I'll be a little late." His eyes darken over me. "You hear that? Alittlelate. So you better make this quick."

"Thank you," I nod, showing myself in and taking the seat across from his desk. "This won't take long."

"These meetings with you never do," he chuckles. "Let me guess. The whole hospital is full of idiots and you want to fire them all and start over again from scratch?"

"In a nutshell," I reply unapologetically. "We're simply not doing enough. I took this position because you assured me we'd be aggressive about making some of the biggest breakthroughs in modern medicine. You said we'd make history together. But how can I do that if no one else gives a damn about what it is we're doing here?"

"Look, I know you have some strong opinions about our research. But you're not the only one who cares about your work, Ashford. I can't think of anyone in their right minds who would put up with you if they didn't care."

"I need them to do more than just put up with me," I huff. "I need them to start making real progress."

He gives a thoughtful nod and then stands up to button his jacket. "Let's schedule a time for later this week to discuss this more in-depth. In the meantime, talk to Dr. Gray about being more involved on the hiring committee. I'll give him a call and tell him I approve of it."

I let out an exasperated sigh. Why does everyone and everything around here have to move at a snail's pace? No one has any sense of urgency. You'd think we worked in something inconsequential, not in the business of saving lives at all.

But Sturgill knows better than to test me. I'm always one breath away from quitting and going to a facility with ambitions that match my own. If he says we'll discuss it later in the week, I know he'll keep his word. But there's no point in pushing him on it now. He'll only shut me down.

"I suppose that will have to do for now then," I sigh, standing to shake his hand. "I'll set that up with Sheila."

"Oh, Ashford. Just one more thing while I have you. I was actually going to call you about this in a minute, but since you're here…I got a call from a reporter from the New York Times today. I don't know how the hell she got my number, but truth be told I found her rather charming. So I humored her more than I probably should have, and now I'd like for you to do the same."

"I don't understand, sir."

"She wants to do an article on Bardot's cancer research, and I think it could be good publicity for us. We've had enough scandals around this place. We need to remind people what it is we really do here, and I think this could be the perfect outlet for you. Meet with this woman and have her tell the world what your plans are. Then we'll meet up and do whatever is needed to make sure we can actually bring it all to fruition."

"I'm not sure meeting with a reporter is the best use of my time," I argue.

"I disagree. And last I checked, I still run things around here. I'm the one who signs your checks. Besides, I had a feeling you'd be difficult so I went ahead and set it up. You've got to eat lunch today anyway, right? Why not eat while telling a pretty woman about your favorite thing…Your work."

"You set it up for lunchtoday?" My brows raise. "She's pretty?"

"She sounded pretty over the phone, but who can say. If I'm right, just promise me you won't sleep with her. That's the last thing we need. Good press turned into a smear campaign by a scorned lover."

He leans down and scribbles a time and place onto a piece of paper, then hands it to me. As I study the name of the restaurant, he breezes past me.

"Don't leave the poor girl waiting," he calls back to me before getting on his private elevator.

I slump with a heavy sigh, then reluctantly leave to go change into a suit jacket for this stupid meeting. The last thing I want to be doing is talking about my plans for our research. I'd much rather spend that time putting those plans into action. But I need Sturgill on my side right now with all the changes that need to be made around here. Doing a little something to gain his favor could go a long way.

Twenty minutes later, I'm talking through the doors of Festin - a very hip and expensive french restaurant downtown. Journalists always pick the nicest places to eat at for these meetings because they can charge it as a company expense. They get to coax their subjects with a fancy meal and enjoy one for themselves at the same time, to no expense of their own. It's a win win. I'm not complaining. If I'm going to waste my time, at least I'll get some decent food out of it.

I approach the hostess at the front counter. "Excuse me, I'm supposed to be meeting a Ms. Curie."

"Yes, I have a reservation under Curie for one o'clock. Your other party isn't here yet, but you can go ahead and take your seat. Follow me."

She leads me through the dining room to our table. I immediately order a glass of top shelf bourbon and some appetizers. If this woman's going to treat me to a good lunch in exchange for picking my brain, I'm going to make the most of it.

Ten minutes later, a tall, gorgeous brunette in sunglasses walks through the door. I see the hostess pointing her in the direction of my table. I guess Sturgill's hunch was right. Sheisa pretty woman.

As she walks towards me, she removes the sunglasses from her face. My mouth drops and my stomach turns. It isn't some pretty New York Times reporter walking towards me. It'sher.

I never wanted to see Vanessa again. Or at least that's what I've been telling myself all these years. And now, twice in the span of a week she has shown up in my world out of nowhere. I don't know why this keeps happening. I only know it has to stop. I thought I had taken care of that when I convinced Sturgill and Hudson not to hire her. But now this?

She looks painfully good with her long legs and dark blue stiletto heels. She's wearing a pencil skirt and white button up shirt that hangs down too low, showing off just enough of her cleavage to drive me insane. As she walks towards me with her wavy dark hair bouncing around her flawless face, it's like she's moving in slow motion - a sexy train wreck that I am completely powerless to stop.

It's all so surreal as she slides into the seat across from me with a smug smile curled on the corners of her glossy plump lips. Her brown eyes burrow into me, made even more intense by the dark shadow and liner she's wearing. She doesn't look like a doctor or a reporter. She just looks like the one and only ex I have never fully stopped both craving and hating.

My eyes dart down to the top button of her shirt.I know what those breasts look like when they're fully exposed. I know what they feel like, and I know the sounds you make when I touch them.

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