Winning the Doctor
Autor:in
Harmony Evans
Gelesen
16,4K
Kapitel
15
Chapter 1
“I’m sorry, but I can’t meet with you.”
Liza Sinclair bit the edge of her tongue in shock and stared at the attractive doctor hovering in the doorway. He crossed his sizable arms and planted his feet as if he were blocking the entrance to an exclusive club.
If she had met him in a club, she would have confided to her friends that he was just the right kind of tall, not overpowering, nor underwhelming. His white, neatly pressed lab coat could not hide his athletic build, but in fact seemed to enhance it in the most distracting way.
Although the tiny cleft in his strong chin lent his face a slice of playfulness, his grim expression was anything but welcoming. His tough-guy stance was a bit off-putting but not insurmountable. Liza inhaled a quiet breath. She wasn’t going to allow him to turn her world upside-down at 7 a.m. on a Monday morning.
Who does he think he is?
“But we had an appointment.”
Though it was difficult, Liza managed to keep her voice pleasant. She’d come too far to give up now.
A group of nurses walked past her, laughing and carrying on, almost bumping into her in the narrow hallway of Bay Point Community Hospital’s General Surgery unit. She twisted her head to the side in mild annoyance, accidentally exposing her scar. It began near her right earlobe and slid to the edge of her jawbone, where it mercifully ended. Though it was narrow, about the width of a piece of yarn and only an inch long, she was self-conscious about it, especially when meeting new people.
Even though she’d worn her long hair down, Liza resisted the urge to place her hand on her neck, having learned over the years that no matter how much she tried, her scar was eventually revealed. She drew in a breath before turning her head back to face Dr. Marbet, and consciously lowered her chin just a bit, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
It was too late. Something had changed in his deep brown eyes. Her cheeks suddenly warmed, kindling the thought that his interest in her was more than scientific, more visceral. But she knew that couldn’t possibly be the case.
He thinks I’m a patient.
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
His lips melted into a faint smile. “Of course I do, Ms. Sinclair, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve changed my mind.”
She stared at the man who had seemed so interested to meet her during their phone conversation a few days earlier. His call had been a complete surprise. When he told her his plans to open a boutique cosmetic surgery clinic and offered her the opportunity to interview, she’d jumped at the chance to design the structure from the ground up.
Though he was only in his early thirties, Dr. Anthony Marbet was a much sought-after cosmetic surgeon in California and throughout the United States. His skills at making beautiful people even more gorgeous were well-known in the entertainment business. His fees were exorbitant. Among his clients were the rich, the famous, people who attempted to break the internet, as well as those who valued their privacy more than a headline.
She hadn’t asked how he’d gotten her name. At the time, it didn’t matter because she was so excited about the project.
Now, she wondered if the man was playing games. Her stomach clenched as a flurry of negative thoughts raced across her mind. How was it possible that he’d changed his mind as soon as he opened the door and saw her?
She lifted her chin, her inner resolve like steel. “May I ask why?”
His brown eyes locked with hers. “I’ve decided to go with a professional firm, rather than hire an independent architect.”
He can’t be serious, Liza thought as she gripped the handle of her leather portfolio case, hoping the action would throw focus on another part of her body, and her pounding heart could slow down.
After extensive research, she’d moved from Denver, Colorado, to Bay Point, California, a little more than two months ago, choosing sun and surf over her beloved snowcapped mountains. Located halfway between San Francisco and the border of Oregon, Bay Point was in the midst of a major revitalization. After years of structural and population decline, people were starting to flock to the little town on the Pacific coast to build new homes and start new businesses.
Making the trek to Bay Point was an opportunity for her to nurture and grow her burgeoning one-woman architectural firm. She hoped the move, though fraught with risk, would pay off professionally and financially.
“But you haven’t even given me the chance to show you my work.”
She tightened her grip on her portfolio case. There was no way she was leaving the hospital without at least getting the opportunity to share her sketches with Dr. Marbet in person.
He drew in a breath and paused, seeming to consider something for a moment. A few uncomfortable moments passed, and his eyes never left her face. She felt like she would melt under his gaze, but she still held on to her portfolio as tightly as she held on to her dreams.
Finally, his eyes looked at the gold watch that slid from the edge of his pristine lab coat. He stepped aside and swept his hand toward the interior of the room.
“Ms. Sinclair, you have fifteen minutes.”
Liza held back a frown and nodded. When they’d spoken on the phone, she hadn’t asked how long the appointment was going to be, but she’d assumed it would be longer than it took her to take a shower.
She slipped by him, eager to get inside before he changed his mind again.
She’d chosen a navy silk dress, instead of a suit, to wear to the interview. The classic, sleeveless design made her feel like she was born into money, not someone who’d worked her butt off to acquire it. She resisted the urge to sashay into the room.
Her bare arm whispered against his lab coat as she passed, sending sharp tingles up and down her skin. She could feel his eyes on her back.
Bypassing the leather sofa along one wall, she tried to relax and headed straight for the oval conference table. The half-closed blinds tamped down the morning sunlight and cast a husky glow into the room.
Liza set her portfolio down and turned around just as Dr. Marbet shut his office door.
He ran a hand over his close-shaved black hair. “I’m sorry if I seemed a little rude just now, but I have a heavy surgery schedule today. Still, that’s no excuse.”
When they’d spoken on the phone, she’d instantly loved his voice, smooth and professional at the surface, pure silk lingering just below. His words weren’t exactly an apology, but his tone had changed dramatically and that was good enough for her.
Liza folded her arms, more from habit than annoyance. “I can come back another time if that’s more convenient for you.”
He raised a brow, as if weighing her offer, and then shook his head. “No. Now is fine. Besides, my schedule is booked for the rest of the week.”
Her heart quickened as he approached her and extended his arm. “Let’s start over, shall we?”
He wasn’t smiling, but his handshake was firm and friendly. She nodded, feeling her shoulders relax just a bit. “I’d love to, and I promise that I won’t take much of your time.”
He gently let go of her hand, leaving an invisible nest of warmth on her palm.
“Thanks for changing your mind,” she added, watching him walk away, his steps purposeful, yet relaxed.
Dr. Marbet closed his laptop, and three flat-screen monitors on the wall directly behind him turned off in tandem. Liza assumed they were used for viewing X-rays and other diagnostic tests.
“I trust you’ll make my decision the right one, Ms. Sinclair,” he replied as he checked his watch again, instantly re-igniting her nerves.
His athletic frame skirted around the desk and as he leaned against it, he seemed both nonchalant and alert.
“I have my first patient at eight thirty, so let’s get started.”
He unbuttoned his lab coat, revealing a crisp, blue formal shirt topped off with a bright yellow silk tie that would be outlandish on other men, but on him looked elegant and dignified.
“As I stated on the phone, opening up a private cosmetic surgery practice has long been a dream of mine, so this project is very important to me. Tell me what you remember about my vision for the clinic.”
Liza boldly took a few steps toward him. “I recall that you want your patients to feel welcome and at home, so the architectural design will be a cornerstone of the clinic’s success.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “Right. They already know that when they come to my clinic, they are receiving the best medical care that money can buy, so I’ve got that covered. But I want the building to be designed in such a way that their experience can be uniquely personal.”
She nodded in agreement. “Your facility would be the first of its kind in Bay Point. Why do you see a need for it now?”
Dr. Marbet crossed his arms again and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “In this immediate area, the only place for women and men to have a cosmetic surgery or even a non-surgical procedure, something simple like fillers to correct wrinkling, is here at BPC. Even though this is a fine facility, it’s still a hospital.”
Liza smiled. “Intimidating and impersonal. A hospital isn’t the most private place in town.” She sighed and chose her next words carefully. “I can appreciate your concern for the locals, but I know that many of your patients are famous.”
“Now, where did you hear that?”
She shrugged, not willing to admit that perusing internet gossip sites on a regular basis was one of her favorite guilty pleasures.
“Word around town.”
He started to roll his eyes but stopped and grinned. “There are a lot of things you will hear in Bay Point. Some true, some not. But yes, some of my patients are extremely well-known in the media.”
“And you want more of them,” she prodded.
Dr. Marbet nodded as if the answer were obvious. “Most plastic and cosmetic surgery, that is not the result of certain injuries, is not covered by traditional insurance. Wealthier clients have the funds to pay out-of-pocket for their care. In private practice, I’ll have costs, too.
“The lack of privacy here at the hospital is a big problem and keeps many potential clients away,” he added.
Liza took a few more steps closer, careful to maintain a respectable distance. She had to know if there was another reason why he was building the clinic, something deeper. Something other than just making more money.
“Are you happy?”
He narrowed his eyes, and she worried that her question may have been too personal for a job interview. Still, she had to know if there was another reason why he was building the clinic.
“You mean here at the hospital?”
She nodded. Even though she was curious to know more about Dr. Marbet than just his opinion on his workplace, it was a good place to start building a connection.
“I’ve been at Bay Point Community for over six years. The medical benefits, regular hours, a normal schedule, most of the time are definite pluses,” he said with a wry smirk. “But there are enough minuses that I feel it’s time to strike out on my own,” he added, sighing deeply, as if his shoulders were laden with a heavy burden.
Liza clasped her hands together and smiled, happy that they shared something in common.
“I understand. Being my own boss was one reason why I started my own design firm. No one to answer to on a daily basis but my own perfectionist nature.”
No one to answer to, no one to blame when she failed and no one to celebrate the successes with either, she noted mildly to herself.
She’d been single and on her own for so long that she’d practically convinced herself she didn’t need anyone. All she needed right now was to secure this design gig, and since she didn’t know how much time she had left in the interview, it was time to start talking business.
“Dr. Marbet. I can assure you that with me at your side, you’ll be able to bring your vision to life.”
He gave her a questioning look. “You and your perfectionist nature?”
The teasing lilt in his voice emboldened her, and for the first time, she felt she had his complete attention.
“So what makes you think you’re qualified to design my clinic other than the fact that, per your website, you’ve been featured in Architectural Digest and House Beautiful?”
“Why don’t I show you instead?”
Dr. Marbet arched a brow and they walked to the conference table. When they reached it, he stood close enough for her to appreciate that he didn’t reek of cologne, which she hated, or of antiseptic, which she’d expected from a physician.
Instead, he had a nice, clean, soapy smell.
Simple, pleasant and very sexy.
So sexy that it made her want to inhale deeply, but she was the model of restraint, of self-denial. The situation was awkward enough without her acting like she’d never been close to a clean-smelling, handsome man who looked good enough to savor, for one night. Or maybe even a lifetime.
Liza opened up her portfolio case and laid her best work on the table.
“Here are three designs I created, as part of a team of architects, when I was working for a large firm in Denver. One is a private school, one is an office building and the other is a restaurant.”
Dr. Marbet’s arm brushed against hers, a gesture she was sure was completely innocent, yet her skin pulsed an invisible beat, as he pointed at the first one.
“Ah. Very interesting. I love the open-air feel of the school, and those courtyards scattered about are different. Random, and yet organized at the same time.”
His eyes danced, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was impressed.
“Yes, I designed those in order to encourage more small groups, rather than the large crowds one would see in a typical school yard.”
Liza’s heart raced, and even though she knew it would be tough to rein in her growing excitement, she realized she had to remain calm.
“I could see a courtyard area working well for your clinic.”
He nodded. “Perhaps as an extension of the waiting room. It would be more peaceful, during what is obviously a very stressful time.”
“We could create a separate, private courtyard, specifically for your high-profile clientele.”
He braced his palms against the table as he bent to take a closer look at the renderings, and she had the sudden urge to rest her hand against the curve of his back.
“I like that idea, Liza.”
She hitched in a quiet breath at the sound of her name on his tongue.
“This design was actually for a client in South Carolina,” she continued, as if her world hadn’t just stopped. After all, when she got the gig, she’d hear him say her name all the time. Might as well practice subduing her reaction to it, she thought. “They loved it and the climate was obviously perfect for it, but they decided to go for something a little more traditional.”
Dr. Marbet looked back and shot her a quirky smile. “You mean boring, right?”
She smiled back, pleased again at his response. It was a good sign. It meant that he was a risk taker, and that, if hired, she would be able to take some artistic chances.
“People pay good money for architects to stretch the boundaries of their own creativity. It’s truly a shame when they revert back to traditional design ideas out of fear.”
He straightened, and his expression turned serious, turning her momentary joy into concern.
“Aesthetics aside, the surgical units and patient rooms are also extremely important. I plan on having the latest technology, equipment and treatments available at my clinic. The design must be able to support a state-of-the-art facility. Will it?”
“Not to worry, I’m well aware of and have experience in the complexities of health-care facilities planning,” Liza assured him, with a wave of her hand. “The innovative care and the excellent patient experience will be the focus of the design, not the other way around.”
Dr. Marbet’s brown eyes met hers. “We’ll need to work together to ensure that the dimensions of each room and unit are appropriate to the equipment it will contain.”
There was a sudden, invisible spark between them. Working closely on a regular basis with Dr. Marbet would present its own challenges, namely to her heart. With his good looks, he probably had a lot of women throwing themselves at his feet, and she resolved that she would never be one of them.
She squeezed her thumb and index finger together. “I’m available almost 24/7.”
He let out a mock groan. “Aw. No three a.m. blueprint reviews? I’m not on my own yet. You do realize that I still sometimes work odd hours?”
Liza laughed. “If that’s what it takes to get the project done, I’ll brew a thermos of coffee and adjust my schedule.
“I know we’re probably running out of time, so let me show you a few more.” She pointed to the second design. “This one was for a technology start-up in Austin. They loved it, but sadly they lost all their funding the day before we were going to sign the contract.”
Dr. Marbet shook his head and whistled through his teeth. “Better before you put pen to paper than if you’d already started.”
“Tell me about it. We were very wary of working with start-ups after that fiasco.”
He folded his arms. “Don’t worry. Money won’t be an issue with this project. This is a private clinic, funded by myself and a few key and very wealthy investors.” He gestured toward the table. “Tell me about this one.”
Liza felt a burst of pride. “This is one of my favorites. The design was for a high-concept restaurant by a famous farm-to-table chef.”
He leaned one hip against the table. “What happened to this project?”
“Food poisoning in the chef’s other restaurant. A lot of people got very ill, and one almost died. My former firm actually pulled out of that deal first.”
Liza shook her head, remembering the stern warnings from their corporate counsel. “We didn’t want to be associated with the bad publicity.”
Dr. Marbet made a face. “Smart move. I don’t blame them.”
“Yes, and that experience was so awful that it cemented my dream to break away from corporate and start my own business.”
His grin was slow, easy and smoldered all the way to her heart.
Dr. Marbet turned back to the table and examined each rendering again. When he was finished, he turned around. Moments passed. Though his expression didn’t reveal anything, she remained inwardly confident.
And this is the part where you tell me I’ve got the project.
He crossed his arms, his tough-guy stance reappearing, and her confidence began to waver.
“Ms. Sinclair. Although these designs are very good and I appreciate you showing them to me, since none of them have actually been built, it appears that you have no real track record in commercial design.”
Though his tone wasn’t harsh, Liza felt the snap of his words in her heart. But she wouldn’t take things personally—this was too important. She calmly took a big breath, thankful that she’d already prepared for this moment, the not-so-subtle accusation.
“Since I started my own firm a few years ago, my focus has been on residential design. As you’ve seen in the renderings today, when I worked at Begley, Stuart and Harris in Denver, I assisted on many commercial projects. But as time went on, I quickly realized that both my residential and commercial designs were, and still are, for clients who are more open-minded to an aesthetic that is typically unconventional.”
He stared at her, and she felt as though he was testing her in some way.
“It sounds like you and I may have a similar vision,” he began, sounding strangely hesitant. “However, you should know, I still have a few more architectural firms who will also be pitching this project over the next several weeks.”
Liza’s heart sank, and she felt her willpower start to lag.
Competition. Something she loathed and welcomed at the same time. Although she was dying to know the names of the other firms he was considering, she wouldn’t dare ask.
“I understand. Thank you for your time,” she uttered.
Her voice felt muffled to her ears, as if her throat were lined with cotton. Rejection always hurt, whether personally or professionally, and she didn’t think she would ever get used to it.
Liza turned her back on him, put her renderings in her portfolio case and zipped it up. When she turned around, his eyes were curious, leaving her to wonder what he truly thought about her.
Dr. Marbet walked her to the door but stopped short of opening it.
“You know you can try to hide it, but I can tell you’re disappointed.”
She parted her lips in shock at his words, and at his gentle tone, but he was completely right. There was no use in denying it: she’d wanted to walk out of his office with the project, not empty-handed.
“You can?” she asked, raising a brow. “How can you tell?”
Dr. Marbet chuckled. “I’m not a mind reader, but I can read faces pretty well. When you’re disappointed, your lips turn down at the corners just slightly.”
She felt her face get hot with embarrassment, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “They do not.”
He chuckled a little. “Defend your lips all you want, but I know you thought you’d be the only one I’m considering for this project.”
Though his words hit hard, his voice was light and teasing, causing her to wonder if he was playing with her feelings.
Liza smiled and shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “That’s because I know I’m the best. I’d like to prove it to you. One can always hope, right?”
“Don’t worry.” He smiled, opening the door. “I’ll be in touch. You’re not out of the running yet.”
Yet.
That lovely three-letter word left her future hanging by a string, but instead of making her quake with fear, this time she felt empowered because it meant she still had a chance to succeed.
She started to walk out, and then turned around to catch him watching her again.
“I probably shouldn’t be asking this, but what made you change your mind about interviewing me in the first place?”
“Let’s just say it was a promise I made to an old friend.”
