Книга - Stolen Kisses With Her Boss

Stolen Kisses With Her Boss
Susan Carlisle


After hours…To medical transcriber Cynthia Markum, Dr. Sean Donovan is just a voice—a deliciously sexy one—in her earpiece…until he asks to meet in person. She's nervous and excited, but it's crazy to have feelings for a man she's never laid eyes on, right? Besides, he's her employer!Stunning Cynthia couldn't be further from the woman Sean imagined her to be, and their attraction is mutual and instantaneous. Neither are ready for a relationship, but from the moment their lips meet there's just no going back…







After hours...

To medical transcriber Cynthia Markum, Dr. Sean Donovan is just a voice—a deliciously sexy one—in her earpiece...until he asks to meet in person. She’s nervous and excited, but it’s crazy to have feelings for a man she’s never laid eyes on, right? Besides, he’s her employer!

Stunning Cynthia couldn’t be further from the woman Sean imagined her to be, and their attraction is mutual and instantaneous. Neither are ready for a relationship, but from the moment their lips meet there’s just no going back...


Dear Reader (#u959a1379-1b73-5c95-80a7-c45b1f878489),

For me, family is what it’s all about. My husband, children and grandchildren mean everything to me. But I also know that sometimes I can get so caught up in them I lose sight of myself and others. That’s just what happens to Cynthia in this book. She almost misses out on the love of her life, Sean, because she can’t let go of her family.

I have a confession to make, however. Just like Cynthia, I have put high importance on family dinners—and still do. We do it less frequently these days, because I have grown children, but our meals are still a time when we reconnect. We must see each other and talk to each other to understand one another. I believe families who eat together stay together.

I would like to thank Gloria Nitz for her invaluable information about being a medical transcriptionist. I appreciate her helping me make my book accurate.

I hope you enjoy Cynthia and Sean’s story. I love to hear from my readers. You can reach me at SusanCarlisle.com (http://www.susancarlisle.com).

Susan


Stolen Kisses with Her Boss

Susan Carlisle






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Books by Susan Carlisle

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Summer Brides

White Wedding for a Southern Belle

Midwives On-Call

His Best Friend’s Baby

Heart of Mississippi

The Maverick Who Ruled Her Heart

The Doctor Who Made Her Love Again

Married for the Boss’s Baby

The Doctor’s Sleigh Bell Proposal

The Surgeon’s Cinderella

Visit the Author Profile page at at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.


To Anastasia Huff. Thanks for all your love and support.


Contents

Cover (#ub5be95c2-f9af-5d68-9ee3-9eb1268fd0cd)

Back Cover Text (#u72804bf3-2d3e-5640-982f-d02f8952eb91)

Dear Reader (#ua9bcdd52-aa16-5168-8c76-3fa519710d22)

Title Page (#u85ddf806-6907-5087-85b2-2ac961a4f6ed)

Booklist (#u49f51df9-ff26-5624-bb6e-4d005d36ca83)

Dedication (#u83771a40-6a29-5fab-a725-956e88fe5a71)

CHAPTER ONE (#ua4276d45-1986-5dbe-b7d4-b051d62908a6)

CHAPTER TWO (#u532c152a-34de-5b18-95dc-e9de96a8104b)

CHAPTER THREE (#ucc558bcf-46ef-5d1a-bb85-c5b95b7a7800)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u959a1379-1b73-5c95-80a7-c45b1f878489)

CYNTHIA MARCUM TAPPED the mouse of her laptop. Her emails came into view. Scanning them, she paused when she saw one from Dr. Sean Donavon. Her body tingled in anticipation. Why would he be emailing her? Her interactions had always been with his staff. Had she done something wrong?

She had been doing Dr. Donavon’s transcription for just over a month now. He was an otolaryngologist and one of five surgeons she typed dictation for in the metropolitan Birmingham, Alabama area. The pay was so good she’d added him to her client list despite already having a full load. She could use the money. Her brothers, Mark and Rick, were always in need of something costing at least a hundred dollars.

The money wasn’t the only thing she enjoyed about working for the mystery doctor. She loved the sound of his voice. It drew her in. She always saved his tapes for last. His deep resonating tone was smooth and silky like warm chocolate. It brought to mind a cool night with rain tapping against a tin roof and him pulling her close.

Her imagination worked overtime where Dr. Donavon was concerned. She couldn’t get enough of listening to him, often playing his tapes back more than once. Even all the medical terms sounded erotic when he uttered them.

She often wondered if he looked like he sounded. All dark and sexy.

A humph escaped her. Yeah, more like short and bald. That had happened one time when she had met a radio DJ. Based on his voice she’d built him up into this young, buff guy who every woman would want. Unfortunately, he turned out to be a short, middle-aged man with a gray ponytail. To say she had been disappointed was an understatement.

Listening to Dr. Donavon had become her romantic outlet. Since she currently had no one special in her life, hearing his voice had filled that void. She’d been in a relationship when her parents died. Wedding bells with Dave hadn’t seemed too far off, then life had happened. Her parents’ estate issues, the needs of her brothers and everything in between had worked against their relationship.

Dave had soon begun complaining that she wasn’t spending enough time with him. It had then gone into, “I didn’t sign on to help raise two teenage boys.” Finally, he’d told her he had found someone else. In a way Cynthia was relieved. He just didn’t share her mind-set about the importance of family. He didn’t understand her or the necessity of keeping her family together at all costs.

After they broke up, she didn’t try to have another solid relationship. She’d dated a few times but never let the guys close enough to matter. Usually, when they found out she was responsible for her brothers, they quickly backed away. Now wasn’t the time for a man and she’d accepted that. Sadly, until the boys were more settled in life she would just have to get her thrills from listening to Dr. Donavon. And he was well worth listening to.

Her finger hovered over the computer mouse. Would his emails be just as amazing? Yeah right. She’d been without a man far too long when fantasy started overtaking reality. She clicked the email, opening it.

Then she read the black words against the white screen.

Hello, Ms. Marcum,

My office manager gave me your name as the person who has been preparing my transcriptions. I’m very impressed with your work.

The reason I’m contacting you is that I am currently in the middle of putting together a grant proposal and need to have some extra reports transcribed over the next few weeks. I wanted to know if you would be willing to take on this additional work. Of course I will compensate you for your time.

I would really appreciate your help.

Regards,

S. Donavon

Nope. Nothing sexy there. But he sounded nice. Considerate. In her mind she could almost hear him say the words. Cynthia reread the message. There wasn’t much time in her days. Taking on more work might be difficult. This was Rick’s senior year in high school so what extra hours she had were spent going to his activities. Yet the extra money Dr. Donavon offered would help pay for Mark’s college tuition that was due soon.

Plus, she liked to keep her clients happy. Took pride in her work. So far that hadn’t been a problem with any of her employers. And she would get to listen to his voice more often. But if she didn’t agree to Dr. Donavon’s request would he take all his work elsewhere? She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Moving the cursor to the reply button, she clicked and typed.

Dr. Donavon,

I’m glad you’re pleased with my work. My time is tight at present, but I’ll do my best to fit in any extra reports you send.

I don’t know how quick a turnaround time I can promise, but I will make it as short as possible.

Cynthia

Scanning the message, she made sure she had used the correct tone, then clicked “send”. She didn’t want to lose his business but couldn’t overextend herself either. Her brothers, her family, took priority—always. The upside was if there was enough money from the extra work maybe she could start looking for a new car. Hers was on its last legs. She grinned. More like last tire.

Since she had left nursing school to become a full-time transcriptionist she’d gained a reputation as being competent and professional. It had been difficult to build a client list. She’d been tickled to add Dr. Donavon. As a surgeon, he produced plenty of work to keep her busy. He also paid better than her other clients. Getting to enjoy his voice almost daily was an added perk.

“Hey, Cyn,” Rick called. His tall, lanky body appeared in the doorway of the small front room of their house she used as an office. He wore his usual uniform of jeans and well-worn T-shirt. “I’m going over to Joey’s house.”

Cynthia swiveled in the chair to face him. “Do you have that project done?”

“Almost.” He put up a hand stopping her from saying more. “I’ll have it finished tomorrow and it isn’t due for another week. Don’t worry, I have all A’s.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want that to slip. That scholarship you’re after depends on it.”

Rick waved a hand at her. “You worry too much. See ya.”

Seconds later the back door squeaked open and slammed closed.

She did worry. That had been her full-time job since her parents had died in that devastating car accident. She’d become guardian of her brothers when she was only a few years older. It hadn’t been easy for any of them but they were making it.

Her father had told her more than once, “Cynthia, family is everything. You have to support your family.” She lived by that motto. She would honor her parents by seeing that her brothers had a good start in the world. Once they were settled, she would go back to school and think about her own future. She missed that carefree time when she’d been on her own. The times she hadn’t had to consider her brothers before she did something as simple as go out for the night.

The three of them had inherited the house, but there were still day-to-day expenses to meet. Those came out of her paycheck. Her parents had left some money but it wouldn’t last long if she tapped into it. What her parents had left them was for the boys’ higher education or to help them buy their own place.

Enough pondering. She had work to finish. Glancing at her email list one last time, she saw that there was a new note from Dr. Donavon. She opened it.

I can’t say thank you enough.

I’ll send over the dictation electronically this afternoon and will need the reports by Monday morning. Is that doable? If you can get them done by then I’ll owe you big-time.

S. Donavon

She could imagine the smile on his face when he read her email. She liked it that she’d made him happy. But work so soon? This weekend? He really must be in a hurry. Well, she knew what her plans were for tonight and tomorrow morning.

Dr. Donavon,

I’ll do my best to have them ready by Monday.

Cynthia

Seconds later he came back.

You’re a lifesaver.

S. Donavon

Cynthia wasn’t sure she could be anyone else’s lifesaver. She was already taking care of more people than she could manage now. Taking on someone else might sink her boat. What would it be like to have someone take care of her for a change?

The kitchen door opened and slammed shut. “Cyn?” Mark, who was just three years younger than her, called.

“In here.”

He flopped into the cushion chair beside her desk and flung a leg over the arm.

“So how did it go today?” Cynthia asked.

“I’m going to quit.”

His blunt statement wasn’t unexpected. She leaned toward him, gripping the arms of her chair. Her parents had wanted them all to get a college education. She’d been fighting Mark’s apathy about doing that for months now. The weight of doing so was starting to get to her. “Why?”

“College doesn’t get you anywhere.” Mark spoke to the floor instead of her.

This was one of those times when she wished she had some backup, someone to turn to. She refused to let her voice rise. “You know Mom and Dad wouldn’t like that.”

“Yeah. But it’s not for me.”

Cynthia moved the chair to face him more directly. “Then what’re you going to do?”

He shrugged and continued to look at that floor. “I don’t know.”

That wasn’t a good plan. “Well, you’re going to have to figure something out.”

Mark jumped to his feet. “Get off my back. You’re not my parent. We can’t all be Rick.” He stomped from the room.

She sighed. Could the day get any better? Mark’s statement hurt on a number of levels. Cynthia missed her parents too. That was why she took her guardianship responsibilities seriously. Wanted to do the best by them. And no, she was not Mark’s parent. If the situation was different she would prefer just being his sister.

Dr. Donavon’s dictation arrived in her transcription system’s inbox right before dinner. The work could wait until after dinner. Her parents had made the evening meal time important and she continued the practice. Her brothers knew that if possible they were expected at home at six during the week so they could spend some time together.

Two hours later she pulled her chair up to her desk. This wasn’t the way she’d planned to spend Friday night, but she would get over it. Doing what had to be done had become a part of her life. She’d have Dr. Donavon’s work to him Monday morning, hoping to impress.

She clicked the dictation inbox and Dr. Donavon’s voice filled her ears. It didn’t take long for her to forget about how tired she was or the amount of housework that needed doing and start enjoying the rich deepness of his voice. If she had to work on Friday night, there were worse jobs to have than one that involved having the sound of a sexy voice in her ear.

* * *

After lunch Monday, Sean settled in behind his desk at his clinic office. Pushing his chair back and putting his feet on his desk, he crossed his ankles and got comfortable. He didn’t usually reread all his reports but in this instance, he couldn’t afford not to. The grant was too important.

His future depended on it. Not to mention the quality of life for his patients, for the vast number of patients who would have their hearing improved and those of other ear, nose and throat doctors as well. With the grant he could continue his research and make that difference.

With the success of his procedure and the patent of a new instrument he would also be financially set for life. He knew too well what it was like being without and he’d vowed never to feel that way again. He’d heard some people call it the Scarlett O’Hara syndrome. He just called it smart.

Long ago he’d hired a financial planner. He was determined not to live paycheck to paycheck as his parents had, wondering if there would be enough cash to pay the bills or buy food. While growing up, more than once he’d been unable to participate with his friends in an activity because there hadn’t been funds. His parents had been and still were the types to fall in with the next big money-making scheme, which always cost them money instead of making them rich as they claimed they one day would be. There had been multi-level marketing, investing in commercial ventures or selling the next great vitamin product. Nothing seemed to work but they were always in for the chance it might.

Sean hated any part of that way of life. Money shouldn’t be squandered. Instead it should be saved and invested. He was determined to do just that. Their attitude toward paying their bills and handling finances embarrassed him. Their philosophy about life was so different from his that they found little in common. Because of that he’d not seen them in almost a year. Even then visits had been short. He wasn’t interested in hearing about the next “get rich quick” plan.

The one thing about his new breakthrough was that it would allow him to put away enough money to support his parents in their old age. He was confident that they would need his help. Despite his bitter feelings about his childhood he would take care of them. No matter what, they were his parents.

Now he only had to get the grant documentation in order. The submission must be flawless. The competition was tight, right down to the written documents. Even the smallest element could make a difference between him and someone else receiving the grant.

Picking up his tablet, he pulled up his most recent reports and started reading. Halfway through the first one, he was pleased to find not a single mistake. Not that he really expected one but he couldn’t be too careful. Ms. Marcum had done a superb job and certainly in a timely manner. He should tell her so.

When his last transcriptionist had taken another position she’d given his office manager Ms. Marcum’s name along with a glowing reference. Because he didn’t have time to waste completing the grant he’d told his office manager to hire her without further question. Not known for making snap decisions, thankfully this one had been a smart one. He didn’t know what would have happened to his grant submission if she hadn’t been willing to take on the additional work.

Now he needed to make sure he kept her. He couldn’t have her quitting just when he needed her the most. He didn’t have time to waste hiring another, especially when there was no guarantee that the next person would be any good. His manager had already said they were lucky to get this one. He needed his dictation done in a timely manner and she had proven she could do that.

Pulling up his email, he entered Cynthia Marcum’s address. Her name made her sound like a middle-aged matron. It didn’t matter what she looked like. What concerned him was the quality of his papers and keeping her typing them.

Ms. Marcum,

I have reviewed your reports and I’m very pleased with your work. Thank you for getting them to me in such a timely manner. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that they were waiting for me when I returned to my office after coming out of surgery today.

I can’t say enough about how much I appreciate your efforts. I hope it’s still okay to send you additional work.

Very gratefully,

S. Marcum

Without hesitation he clicked the “send” button.

* * *

Cynthia was pleased to have his gratitude. It was always nice to get affirmation for her efforts. Good manners and a sexy voice. Two for two as far as she was concerned.

As much as she liked his praise she didn’t want to have to stay up late or work on weekends to get it. Hopefully other work he sent wouldn’t require her doing so. She’d handle that issue when the time came, if it did. She also had to honor her other clients’ needs as well.

Cynthia typed a message.

Dr. Donavon,

I’m so happy you were pleased. Just let me know if I can help out further.

Cynthia

She reread the note twice. It was polite, yet businesslike.

A minute later a message landed in her mailbox.

Thank you! I do, in fact, have more work for you. I will send it through today.

S. Donavon

Maybe she’d offered too quickly. Apparently this grant was extremely important to him. At least he hadn’t put a time period on when he needed these reports returned.

In the middle of the afternoon the doorbell rang. Cynthia answered it to find a delivery man holding a green plant in a blue ceramic pot.

“Cynthia Marcum?”

“Yes.”

“This is for you.” The man handed her the pot.

Dumbfounded, Cynthia was left to stare at it as he climbed into his van. No one had ever sent her something from a florist. There had been flower arrangements when her parents died but never something just for her. What was going on?

She looked down at the full, beautiful plant with broad leaves and a vivid red flower in the center. Tucked under one of the leaves was a white envelope with her name scrawled on it. Closing the door with her foot, she carried the plant to her office and set it on the corner of her desk. Removing the envelope, she pulled out the card inside. Written on it was: “Thanks, Sean Donavon.”

He’d sent her a thank-you plant. Cynthia couldn’t help but smile. That was thoughtful. Dr. Donavon had just earned another point. No matter what he looked like she could fall for someone who took the time to say thank you. She loved her brothers but “thank you” wasn’t something she regularly heard. She didn’t regret her sacrifices or what she did for them but she would like some understanding and appreciation sometimes. She looked at the plant again. Dr. Donavon’s office manager had no doubt taken care of sending the gift.

A short time later the work he wanted done came up in her system.

She opened her email and clicked “compose.”

Dr. Donavon

Thank you so much for the beautiful plant. You shouldn’t have, but I will enjoy having it on my desk.

I received your dictation and will work on it today and tomorrow. I’ll send the reports when they are completed.

Cynthia

* * *

It was almost midnight on Tuesday when she finally finished the last of her work. She’d spent most of the early part of her day typing her other clients’ dictation. Rick had had a basketball game that evening and that had meant she’d made it back to her desk chair late. Still she was determined to have all her typing done so she could start fresh the next day. That meant working late.

Wednesday morning, she opened Dr. Donavon’s normal surgical dictation and listened for the soft cadence of his voice as he spoke through her headphones. Smiling, she reached out and touched the tip of one leaf on her plant. Between his usual work and the special assignment, she was getting to spend many hours with his delicious voice. She was becoming moony-eyed over a man she’d never seen and knew nothing about. He could be married for all she knew. Enough of that—she needed to get to work.

Hours later she punched a key and sent the twenty separate reports she’d finished off to his electronic folder.

Feeling good about what she had accomplished that day, she took a long, hot shower before heading to bed. Having forgotten to turn off the kitchen light, she headed down the hallway. As she passed her office door she noticed the light flashing on her cell phone, indicating she had an email waiting. She received few this time of night so she feared it might be something important. It was from Dr. Donavon.

Had she tried she couldn’t have slowed her rapid heartbeat. What was he doing working this late? She should wait until morning to open it but it would mean she would stay awake wondering what he had to say. Far too eager for her comfort, she double-tapped the key.

Thank you for the reports and you’re welcome for the plant. It was just my small way of saying thank you.

Good night.

S. Donavon

How could a simple business email make her so giddy? She had to get a grip where Dr. Donavon was concerned. More than his voice was starting to get to her. What would it sound like to have him say good night in her ear? A shiver went up her spine. Cynthia shook her head. She’d been up too late. Her mind was beginning to play tricks on her.

She climbed into bed, pulled her quilt over her and smiled before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Sean didn’t make a practice of sending someone a thank-you gift for helping him with work he was already paying them to do, but he liked Ms. Marcum.

She’d really helped him out. He’d never sent a plant, or flowers for that matter, before. Even after a date. As far as he was concerned they were a waste of money, which was better used on something practical like a power bill or making an investment.

From the tone of Ms. Marcum’s emails, she seemed an agreeable person. Someone he could work well with for a long time. Sean liked to keep good employees happy to prevent having to search for new ones. He’d been successful at it too. His office manager and several of his nurses had been with him for years.

He wasn’t in the habit of taking chances. He’d seen more than once growing up what happened when someone took a chance. He didn’t do it with places to live, friends or when making decisions on which stocks to buy. Only sure things interested him. That was just what the grant proposal had to be: a sure thing. Ms. Marcum was going to help make that happen.

Sean had worked until two o’clock in the morning the night before and still hadn’t gone through all the reports and information he needed to review. Organization wasn’t his strongest skill. He was going to need help. He moved a pile of disordered papers to another area of his desk, then more to another spot.

Disorganization was one trait he’d gotten from his parents that he couldn’t seem to shake. It was almost ingrained. When they got involved in one of their schemes, record-keeping was part of the process and they didn’t do it well. Soon they had no idea how deep they were in financially and couldn’t put their hands on the documentation to figure it out.

When his father discovered the severity of it he would go out and get an hourly job. Then when the next big moneymaker scam came along his father would quit his job and devote all his time to building the new “business.” Sean had heard all his life, “This will be it. We’ll be on the road to riches this time.” That time had yet to come.

He’d left all he could of that behind, except for being unorganized. He needed someone good with written documentation computer skills to assist him. The sooner the better. He only had a few weeks until the submission must be flawless.

Ms. Marcum had done another superb job with the latest reports. She seemed efficient. In her last email she’d offered her assistance. Would she consider helping him out for a few weeks? There was only one way to find out.

Ms. Marcum, I have a proposition for you.

Sean chuckled. Maybe those weren’t the correct words.

Ms. Marcum, would you be able to come by my office around three p.m. tomorrow? I have an opportunity that I would like to discuss with you in person.

S. Donavon

Hopefully she would agree to their meeting and his need for help. He couldn’t allow her to refuse him. How was he going to get the work done if she didn’t assist him? His office staff was already busy enough. There was no time to hire someone else to handle it. He was reaching desperation level. Somehow he must gain her cooperation.


CHAPTER TWO (#u959a1379-1b73-5c95-80a7-c45b1f878489)

IT WAS LATE in the morning when Cynthia opened the email she’d saved for last.

She responded.

I’m sorry but I have another appointment at three. Can we make it four?

After a moment’s hesitation she sent the email out. She was tempted to rearrange her entire afternoon. She really needed this job. But Rick’s meeting with the scholarship council was too important to miss.

She didn’t have to wait long for a reply.

I have rounds at four. How about we make it five? I won’t keep you long, I promise.

S. Donavon.

Seconds later she typed: See you at five.

* * *

That afternoon Cynthia entered the glass doors of a modern single-story brick building. It was located across the street from the large multistory hospital in the center of Birmingham. A free-standing sign indicated the building contained Dr. Donavon’s office. It was late in the day and only a few cars occupied the parking lot. Most of the patients would have been seen and the staff was probably leaving for the day.

She’d only been here one other time when she’d signed her employment papers. Transcribers worked behind the scenes and Cynthia liked it that way. She didn’t have to leave home and that suited her lifestyle perfectly. That way she was able to work her schedule around her brothers’ needs. It was highly unusual for a doctor to call her to his office. So why was Dr. Donavon doing so now?

Doctors’ pictures were usually posted on their websites but she’d made it a point not to look for Dr. Donavon’s because she didn’t want to ruin her fantasy image of him. His appearance didn’t matter anyway; this certainly wasn’t a social call.

With a flutter of trepidation in her belly, she stepped to the reception window. Would she be disappointed when she saw him? The young woman with platinum blond hair and bright red fingernails behind the glass looked at her. She asked with an edge to her voice, “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Dr. Donavon,” Cynthia said in a firm tone.

The woman looked down her nose at her as if Cynthia had requested the impossible. “Is he expecting you?”

“Yes. I’m Cynthia Marcum. The transcriptionist. He told me to be here at five.”

“Let me see if he’s still here.” She picked up the phone and spoke to the person on the other end. Putting it down, she said briskly, “He’ll be right out. Just have a seat.”

Cynthia did as she suggested. She studied the functional room containing metal chairs and a few end tables. There was a magazine rack on the wall and a fake potted plant in the corner. It was quiet and there was only a lone overhead light on. Minutes later the woman switched off the lights over her desk, came out from behind it and headed out of the front door without a glance in Cynthia’s direction.

Was she alone in the building with just Dr. Donavon? What did she really know about the man? Even doctors could be ax murderers. She should have said no to meeting him after-hours. Waited until morning. She hoped she was a good judge of character even if her decision was based on emails alone. Shaking the idea off, she nervously shifted in her chair. She’d been so caught up in her fantasy she hadn’t been thinking straight. Now she was letting her nerves get the better of her. Surely there was someone else in the office as well.

Cynthia watched the minute hand move for five agonizingly slow minutes before sounds of footsteps coming in her direction caught her attention.

What did he look like? The flutter increased, along with her curiosity. Steps grew closer. The quivering grew to a swirling. She felt as if she were going to meet her favorite rock star. After the way she’d pictured him maybe she was.

Cynthia shook her head and glanced at the ceiling to regain rational thought. She stood. No one could be that good-looking no matter how wonderful his voice was.

She was wrong. On both counts. The man towering over her was at least six feet tall. With dark hair and crystal-blue eyes, he would make any woman swoon. The fact he still wore a white lab coat over a blue-checked button-down shirt and tan pants didn’t hurt his look of authority. He was glossy-magazine-front-cover gorgeous!

Her breath caught as she stared. His looks matched his voice and then some. And she was making a fool of herself right in front of him.

He smiled while giving her an odd look. “Ms. Marcum?”

Cynthia let out the breath she’d been holding. When had she ever been so focused on someone’s looks? She wasn’t that shallow. Still this man had her gaping at him. She needed to find a flaw if she was going to regain her sanity. She croaked, “Yes.” Then cleared her throat and continued. “Please call me Cynthia. I’m not much on formal names.”

“Good. Come with me. We can talk in my office.”

He started down the hall. When she didn’t follow immediately he stopped and looked at her. “Ms. Marcum. Cynthia?”

“I’m sorry. I’m coming.” She needed to get control. Stop embarrassing herself.

She followed him along a hall with exam rooms on both sides. She saw a nurse standing at a counter at the end of the hall. With relief, she saw they weren’t alone after all.

He stood beside an open doorway, inviting her to enter by extending a hand. He joined her, making the area suddenly feel small. Moving behind a desk that had seen better days and was piled high with paper stacks, he remained on his feet. Positioned on her side of the desk was a straight-backed wooden chair that reminded her of one in the library of her elementary school and appeared just as inviting.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Cynthia. Please have a seat.” He took the chair on squeaky wheels behind his desk. It was by no means the latest model either.

Cynthia sat, then glanced around. This might be the saddest doctor’s office she’d ever seen. She’d envisioned a businesslike area filled with books, which this one was, but it also had a feeling of neglect. Somehow she had expected more. Minimal yes, but not so outdated and drab. There were no pictures of a wife or children, not even a dog. No indication of a hobby. No curtains hung above the utilitarian blinds. The one lone lamp on the desk only added to the sadness of the cluttered atmosphere. The space was an enormous contrast to the outstandingly handsome man sitting in front of her. What had happened to him for him to keep his personal space so...impersonal?

Did his home look this needy as well? Didn’t he have a wife, a mother, or at least a girlfriend who could help him out with decorating? Every fiber in her wanted to buy him an antique desk and two tufted chairs. He needed her plant worse than she did.

Dr. Donavon cleared his throat and her attention returned to him. Those piercing blue eyes watched her closely. “You don’t like my office?”

He was observant. She needed to make sure she schooled her emotions from showing too much on her face. “I just hadn’t expected your office to look...um...like this. Sometimes I let my imagination carry me away.”

Dr. Donavon leaned back in his chair giving her a direct look with a small smile on his lips. “How’s that?”

She glanced around again. “I don’t know. I just thought it might not be so uh...” How could she say this without sounding critical? “Maybe have more chrome and glass.”

“I’m not really into chrome and glass.”

Cynthia gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not either. Please forget I said anything. You didn’t ask me here to insult your décor or to be your interior decorator.”

“My apologies as well. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You’re not what I expected either.”

“I hope you aren’t disappointed.” She wasn’t sure where this meeting was going.

“I would say quite to the contrary. You’re a pleasant surprise.” He continued to study her.

Cynthia didn’t know how to react to that statement. What had he expected? Was he flirting with her? It had been so long since a man had, she wasn’t sure she would recognize it when it happened. “Thank you, I think.”

“It was a compliment. I’m being rude and have embarrassed you. That’s certainly not what I intended, especially when I need to ask you a favor.”

“Ask me? A f-favor?” she stammered.

“Yes. I’d like you to consider helping me get the final draft of my grant proposal together.” He gave her a charming smile. “I could really use your help.” He made a point of indicating the stacks on his desk.

“Me? Why me? I don’t know anything about putting together a grant.”

“Maybe not, but I can help with that. From what I can tell you have good organizational skills on the computer and you’re a fast and accurate typist. I need those skills to get this grant out on time. If you’ll accept my proposition, I’ll pay you time and half.”

Heat crept up the back of her neck. She was sure he hadn’t realized what he’d said about a proposition but she had. After fantasizing about him, and now seeing that he was devastatingly attractive, her mind was coming up with crazy ideas. Cynthia shifted in her seat. She must be careful not to make a fool of herself. “I’ve already agreed to do your transcription.”

“Yes, but I need someone who can help me get my grant reports in order. Put the documents into the format and order required ASAP.”

“I appreciate your offer. But I’m going to have to decline it. I have my family to consider and my other clients. My time is pretty tight as it is.” She watched as his smile disappeared. For some reason she hated being the one who made it vanish.

He coaxed, “I’m sure your husband would understand that it’s only for a few weeks. And I don’t think it would be so time-consuming you couldn’t do your other dictation.”

“I don’t have a husband.” Was there a hint of relief on his face when she said that? “I’m responsible for my brothers.”

He leaned forward. “How old are they?”

“In their late teens.”

He looked mystified. “Wouldn’t they understand you being away some?”

“They probably wouldn’t notice but I would.” He certainly wasn’t going to give up easy.

“What if I pay you double time?” He crossed his arms on his desk.

Her eyes widened. There were hundreds of things she could use that money for. But money wasn’t the most important thing in the world. It was nothing like being there for Rick at his games or being around when Mark needed to talk. Particularly with his current frame of mind. His schooling was too important for him to drop out. “I’m sorry. I’m still going to have to say no.”

“Is there any way I could convince you?”

“Not now. I’m sorry I can’t help you.” She looked at her phone. “I really need to go. I’m supposed to be across town in thirty minutes.”

“Then you must go,” he said in a businesslike tone that still sounded special wrapped in his beautiful baritone.

Cynthia put her purse under her arm and stood.

He leaned back in his chair but didn’t come to his feet.

She offered her hand. “I really am sorry.”

He stood and took it. His was large and enveloped hers, making her feel tiny yet somehow protected instead of smothered. He said, “I am too. If you change your mind just let me know.”

Cynthia nodded. He let her hand go. She felt the loss of warmth immediately. Her knees shook slightly as she walked down the hall. No man should have that kind of effect on her just by touching her hand.

Sean watched Cynthia’s ash-brown hair swing across the tops of her shoulders as she walked out of the door. She certainly wasn’t the frumpy middle-aged woman he’d anticipated. Instead she was a young vibrant woman who knew her own mind. She was far more interesting than he’d expected. What compelled such a striking woman to become a transcriptionist who stayed behind the scenes? Somehow it didn’t fit her. She looked more suited for the front desk.

Cynthia might be short in stature but she was tall in backbone. He like the way her green eyes expressed her feelings. They’d certainly made it clear how she felt about his office. She’d bitten the corner of her mouth as she’d thought about how she was going to answer his questions. He had to give her credit for the diplomatic way she’d done so. Her actions had been endearing, yet telling. He had the feeling she’d found humor in the situation by the small laugh lines that gathered around her eyes.

Sean walked down the hall toward the front of the building, intent on locking the door. The back door opened and shut. His nurse was leaving for the evening but he would be staying for some time to come. As he reached the lobby Cynthia entered.

“Can I change my mind about that job?” There was a note of desperation in her voice.

He was surprised by her question but grateful she was reconsidering. “Sure.”

“When would you like me to start?”

He smiled. “Now would be great.”

Her face took on an astonished look. “I can’t—”

“I don’t expect you to start this minute. I’ll send you more dictation and some information about what I want. For the most part you should be able to do the work from home but it may require you coming here a few times.”

Cynthia nodded. “Okay. That should work.”

“May I ask what changed your mind?” She’d seemed firm about her decision earlier.

“I just got a call from my brother and he’s having car trouble. This is the second time in two weeks.” She shrugged. “Turns out I need the extra money.”

“I’m sorry about your car issues.” He was but he was also thankful he’d be getting her assistance. “Can I do anything to help out? Do you need me to call a tow truck?”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m fine for now. Mark has a friend who’ll tow the car to our house. Please send over what you need me to do and I’ll get started on it right away.”

Sean watched her walk toward an older-model car. It was a basic four-door vehicle, practical and efficient. Not unlike his. Cynthia seemed to face her financial responsibilities head-on. That was something he could admire.

* * *

The next morning Cynthia checked her email.

Cynthia,

I wanted to make sure you got the car home with no trouble. Please let me know if you need any help. I have a great mechanic and I’d be glad to call him.

I have attached some guidelines for the grant and some files that need to be included. Please let me know if you have any questions.

Again, I appreciate your help.

Sean

She appreciated Sean’s offer. The more dealings she had with Dr. Donavon, the better she liked him.

Cynthia noticed he’d signed off as “Sean.” She’d told him to call her Cynthia so her guess was he was reciprocating. Did he want her to call him by his first name? He’d not suggested that when they had met. Now all of a sudden he was using his given name. She shouldn’t be making such a big deal of it but she liked the idea of them being on a first-name basis.

Cynthia practiced saying his name out loud. It suited him. After all her daydreaming she had to keep in mind that they were merely employee and employer. She didn’t need to read more into a simple signature than there was. Still she couldn’t ignore the extra clip-clop of her heart when she reread the note.

All these speculations and she still didn’t really know anything about the man. He could be married for all she knew. But he hadn’t been wearing a ring. But nowadays that didn’t mean anything. She hoped he was married. At least she could put an end to her romantic illusions. The reality of a romance between them was laughable. She really needed to get out more. Meet some men. She was spending too much time in a dream world wrapped in a sultry male voice. Reality was what she should concentrate on. Like her brothers attending college and the cost of them staying there or the problem of repairing Mark’s car.

Over the next few days she worked hard to get Sean’s reports typed and to keep up with her other transcriptions. To her surprise, she enjoyed working on the grant. Found it fascinating. At first it took a great deal of effort to understand what was necessary but she soon became caught up in the brilliant work that Sean was doing. Her being impressed was an understatement.

On Tuesday afternoon, she headed for Sean’s office to deliver the work she had finished. Rick’s eighteenth birthday was in two days and she was going to take some time off to get ready for it. Pulling into a parking spot, she tried to convince herself she was making the extra effort to turn the reports in just because of the party planning but that wasn’t true. She secretly hoped she might see Sean. Especially since she’d taken more care with her hair than usual, not to mention she was now putting on lip gloss.

This is ridiculous.

Cynthia picked up the file and without hesitation got out of the car. She merely had to go in, hand over the papers, return to her vehicle and drive away. She wasn’t some teenage girl trying to contrive a way to see a boy. Those days were long gone. Still that tingle of anticipation filled her.

She pulled open the glass door of the lobby, entered and purposely walked to the window. “I’m Cynthia. The transcriptionist. Please see that Dr. Donavon gets these.”

The same receptionist who had been there days before took the file. “I will.”

Cynthia turned to leave as a middle-aged man entered the lobby from the hallway. Sean was behind him. Her body heated as if she’d gotten caught doing something she shouldn’t.

His smile implied he was glad to see her. She returned it.

Sean patted the man on the back. “Good to see you’re doing so well, Ralph. I hope to see you again soon.” The man headed toward the exit and Sean strolled over to her. “Hi, Cynthia.”

“I brought you some reports and the first ten pages of the grant to review.” She pointed toward the desk. “I gave them to your receptionist.”

“Great. I’ll give them a look and let you know if there’re any changes to be made. I appreciate you bringing them by.”

His voice was even more captivating when she heard it in person. She had to do something more than stand there looking at him. She swallowed. “You’re welcome. Well, I’d better go.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Sean said.

And I’ll be looking forward to it. Somehow she managed to keep herself from saying it out loud.

* * *

The two days she’d taken off turned into busy ones. She’d made arrangements for Rick’s birthday and finished some chores she’d been putting off. Everything was set for the party now. All she had to do was load the car and head to the paintball field. She was expecting about twenty teenagers, both boys and girls. Normally she, Mark and Rick celebrated with cake and ice cream with a few friends but this was a special birthday. Now that she had some extra money from overtime she had decided to splurge a little.

With a couple of hours before they needed to leave, Cynthia decided to check her email and review what she would need to get done the next day. She opened her account.

With a giddy feeling she shouldn’t be experiencing, she saw one from Sean. She opened it.

Hi Cynthia,

I hope you’re having a good day. I’ve had something come up and I need to get Charles Chadworth’s surgical report. It’s particular to the grant and I need a colleague to review it. He’s leaving on a two-week vacation tomorrow but has said he can look at it tonight. Do you have it completed?

I know this is above and beyond the call of duty, but could you have it ready for a messenger at four p.m.? I must get it to him right away.

Thank you.

Sean

She checked the time. There was just enough for her to type it but no one would be here to give it to the messenger.

She replied.

I can get it typed, but today is my brother’s birthday and I’m giving him a party. I won’t be here for the messenger when he comes.

Since it’s personal information I’m not comfortable leaving it on the porch unattended... I could bring it by your office around nine tonight. Would that do?

Cynthia

Half an hour later she had the report finished and another email from Sean popped into her box.

That’s not going to work. I really need it sooner.

Let me see if I can find someone in the office who can come get it.

I’ll get back to you.

Sean

She couldn’t miss Rick’s party or be late. She was the hostess. Had the responsibility of being the designated adult in charge. At one time that title made her feel important. Now it was more of a weight on her shoulders.

Cynthia checked the time. She needed to get going but she also needed to wait to hear from Sean. Ten minutes went by before he replied.

No messenger can make it and there’s no one in the office who can do it either.

Can I meet you somewhere and pick it up?

Sean

Cynthia slipped the two sheets of paper into a protective envelope. The report really must be important if he was willing to go to the trouble of personally picking it up.

You’ll need to come to 5182 Falcon Road, Bessemer, Al.

Sean replied right away.

I’ll see you there.

Thanks for doing this on such short notice.

Sean

Cynthia couldn’t help the excitement bubbling in her. She was going to see Sean again. It had been a long time since she’d acted like a woman excited about seeing a man.

* * *

Sean couldn’t believe it when he pulled up to the address that Cynthia had given him. It was a large field full of building façades, lean-tos and barrels spaced out at intervals. In a grassy area beside a building no larger than a backyard garden shed, vehicles were parked in a line. Most were jacked-up trucks with the occasional car mixed in.

What was going on here?

He parked next to a red truck. Among the buildings and other obstacles were people dressed in white painter coveralls and wearing clear masks over their faces. They were running from place to place while being shot at with guns that used exploding paintballs.

Why was Cynthia here?

He slowly approached the shed where a couple of teenagers stood laughing and pointing at what was happening on the field. Posted on the siding of the building was a sign stating “Peek’s Paintball”. Below the sign was a list of the charges for a game, with or without the rental of the equipment. This was just the type of entertainment he didn’t waste his money on. There was nothing to show for the expense. Yet, it seemed several kids and, apparently, Cynthia were playing.

Sean joined the boys. “Hey.”

They looked at him curiously. Was it that obvious he was out of his element? “Do either one of you know where I can find Cynthia Marcum?”

One boy looked at the other. “Isn’t that Rick’s sister?”

“Yeah.” The teen pointed toward the field. “She’s out there somewhere.”

Sean studied the game area, trying to catch a glimpse of Cynthia. Players continued moving between obstacles while being shot at.

“They just started a new game a few minutes ago. It may be a while before she shows up,” one of the boys stated.

Sean didn’t really have time to stand around waiting on her. Cynthia knew he was coming. Why wasn’t she available? “Could you point me in the direction of where you last saw her?”

The taller of the two indicated the right side of the field.

Sean started in that direction.

“Hey, man,” the shorter boy called, “I wouldn’t do that without a mask and gun. It’s an unwritten rule that anyone on the field is fair game.”

Sean hesitated. Surely no one would shoot an unarmed man. He wasn’t even dressed the part.

“I’ll let you have mine. You really don’t want to go out there without some protection.” The second boy handed him his plastic helmet.

Sean took it. “Thanks. You really think they’d shoot me?”

Both boys gave him a solemn nod.

The tall one asked, “Do you know how to use a paintball gun?”

Sean looked at the clear gun with a black plastic container attached to the bottom and a small black canister on the back. “No, not really.”

“This one is an automatic. All you have to do is pull the trigger. This is the hopper.” He pointed to the plastic container. “It holds the paintballs. This is your gas.” He put his hand on the canister. “You should have plenty. Just point and shoot. Aim for the body.”

They had to be kidding. Surely Cynthia wasn’t out there dressed as they were and armed. “Is all of this really necessary?”

Both boys bobbed their heads in a rapid motion.

“Oh, and don’t take your mask off for any reason until the whistle blows. Paintballs can leave nasty whelps.”

“Got it.” Sean started out into the field again. He hadn’t gone six feet before he felt a thump and dampness on his upper arm. He looked down to see a bright yellow splatter on his good navy pullover. At least he was wearing jeans. Moving into a trot, he found cover behind a barrel. There were two pinging sounds against the side as he crouched down. Paint flew in the air around him.

A couple of giggles came from a nearby lean-to. He peeked out to see two girls.

“Almost got you,” one called.

“Do you know where Cynthia Marcum is?” Sean brought his head back, not moving from his sheltered spot.

“Whose team are you on?” came a response.

“No one’s. I came here to see Cynthia.” He’d had no idea it would be this hard to do.

“She’s guarding our fort,” a girl called.

“Fort?” He hadn’t seen anything that looked like a fort among the structures.

“Yeah. It’s the church,” another voice called. “You better be careful. She’s a good shot.”

“We’re going to believe you this time. We’ll let you by,” one of the girls called.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Sean stood but kept his head low as he ran toward the façade that looked like a white church front with a steeple. When he was hit in the hip, he took cover behind some boards driven into the ground forming a haphazard fence. Okay, he’d had all the paint on him he wanted. It was time to retaliate.

Sean did a three-sixty survey of the area. A boy came into his field of vision and Sean pulled the trigger. With a pop, pop, pop the balls left the chamber. Two hit the ground near the boy’s feet. He turned to run and the third caught him square in the back.

A smile covered Sean’s lips. This game might be more interesting than he’d thought. He ran across an open area to another barrel, fully expecting to draw fire. When none came his confidence increased and he kept moving. He reached a large oak tree that stood in the middle of the field and stopped, waited.

Where was Cynthia? He needed to get that report and get back to his office. There was still work to do tonight. Sean yelled, “Cynthia?”

Seconds later he heard, “Over here.”

She was at the church. Sean headed in that direction. This time he wasn’t as lucky as he had been during his last run. A couple of boys stepped out from behind a storefront and paintballs sailed in his direction. Ducking and zigzagging, he ran behind the church front and straight into someone.

With a grunt from him and a whoosh from the person he hit, they landed with a thud on the ground in a tangle of legs and arms. Seconds later he looked into the wide, dazed eyes of Cynthia. Their mouths were close enough to touch if not for the plastic masks between them. Sean wished he could kiss her. Almost instantly behind that thought came the realization of how soft the feminine curves were beneath him. When she shifted, they became even more evident.

“Uh...Sean, what’re you doing here?” Cynthia looked at him as if she might be imagining him.

“Do you mean here on top of you or here as in on the playing field?”

For a moment she looked perplexed, as if she didn’t understand the question. “Both, I think.”

“I was looking for you. You told me to meet you here.” She really did have beautiful eyes.

Cynthia struggled to get out from under him. “I don’t think I asked you to knock me down and lay on me.”

“No. That was purely accidental.” And my pleasure. He rolled to his side, taking some of the pressure off her. She shimmied against him. His body warmed and twitched in awareness. A movement above them caught his attention. He glanced up. A boy pointing a gun was bearing down on them.

Suddenly Cynthia twisted to her side and away from him. “I have to protect the fort,” she muttered with a sound of determination as she reached for her gun.

Sean raised his and aimed. The paintball hit the boy in the chest. Red paint covered his coverall.

“Aw, Cyn, I was so close,” the kid said with disappointment in his voice.

Cynthia giggled. “Yet so far away.” She looked back at him. “Thanks, Doc, nice shot.”

“You’re welcome.” Sean grinned as he got to his feet. He offered her a hand. She took it without hesitation. “There’s a first time for everything.” He’d impressed not only himself but her as well. He liked that for some reason. He was confident she didn’t suffer fools easily.

“Really? You’ve never played paintball?” She looked around them as if making sure no one else was headed in their direction.

“No.” This was just the type of thing that there was never money for when he was growing up. He would have loved to have had a birthday party like this one, or even gone to one, but more times than not there was barely money for food. His parents had told him more than once it would get better after the “new business” took off. That had never happened.

The boy walked back the way Sean had come.

“So is he done?” Sean asked.

“Yeah, he got hit in the chest so he has to sit out now.” Cynthia crouched behind the church supports. “I’d have you on my team any time.” Admiration filled her voice.

He involuntarily puffed out his chest and stood straighter.

Her attention had already returned to the field. She glanced back at him and pulled at his arm. “Hey, you better get down or you’re going to have more paint on you than you already have.” A second passed. “Why don’t you have on coveralls? You have ruined your sweater and jeans.”

“I hadn’t planned on wallowing on the ground or being shot at by kids. Some guy told me not to come out here without a mask and gun. He didn’t offer me coveralls. I’m here for a report, not to be a target. By the way, when’re you going to be free here so I can get my report?”

“It shouldn’t take long.” She looked around the façade as if she expected someone was sneaking up on them. “My team should be returning any minute now.”

He looked. “Just how do you tell who’s on your team?”

“By the color on their helmet.” She made it sound as if anyone should know that. His chest deflated.

No other women he knew would be out here playing this game. “You have to be kidding. That means they must get pretty close before you know if they are friend or foe?”

“Yep. But that’s part of the fun.” Cynthia sounded as if she loved the challenge.

He guessed it was. To his surprise he was having a good time.

“So why exactly are you here?”

“They were short one team member and I got drafted. I’m just filling in on this game until one of Rick’s friends shows up.”

That made sense. But Sean had already gotten too caught up in this craziness.

Her focus remained on the field around them. “I’ll be done here in a few minutes.”

She sure took the game seriously. It sounded as if no amount of prodding on his part was going to change her mind. She looked cute in the baggy white paper coveralls with her hair pulled back by the mask and her eyes wide in anticipation. His type was usually the “I can’t get my fingernails broken or my shoes dirty” kind, and here he was admiring a woman with no makeup and paint all over her.

A tall, lanky boy ran toward them calling with excitement, “Hey, Cyn. We won. I got the last of them.”

Cynthia stood. “Great.”

Sean joined her.

“This has been the best birthday party ever. Thanks.” The boy stopped in front of them and gave Cynthia a hug.

She returned it. “I’m glad you like it.” Cynthia pulled off her mask and shook out her hair.

Sean could do little more than stare. She looked so sexy as her hair floated around her shoulders. His body heated. By the way she acted, Cynthia had no idea how captivating the action was. He was more aware with each passing second. Why was he reacting to her so? This wasn’t like him.

There had been women in his life. Plenty of them but none had interested him enough to cause this type of response in such a short time. His female companions had been just that. Companions. Some for the night, others for a month or two. He wanted a woman who was serious, focused. Thought like he did. After living with his parents he’d learned too well that some people haphazardly went through life. He planned, considered each step.

Sean knew the value of hard work and used his money wisely. Unlike this party. No matter how entertaining it might be, he couldn’t see why Cynthia would spend so much on a party when he was sure she could have used the money elsewhere. Like repairing her brother’s car. He could already tell she wasn’t the person for him but still he liked her. What would it hurt to enjoy her company while it lasted?

“Sean, I’d like you to meet my youngest brother, Rick. It’s his birthday we’re celebrating. Rick, this is Dr. Donavon.” She put a hand on her brother’s arm.

The affection between them was obvious. Something that Sean and his siblings didn’t share. He hadn’t seen his older brother and sister in a couple of years. He’d been much younger and so different from them that their relationships hadn’t been close. Sean had been an outsider in his own family. The idea that his brother or sister would throw him a party was laughable.

“Nice to meet you, Rick. Happy birthday.” Sean offered his hand. The boy had a firm handshake. “Please call me Sean.”

Cynthia gave him a warm smile. She seemed to appreciate him allowing her brother the familiarity. There were too many confusing emotions surrounding him liking that idea that he chose not to contemplate it further.

Cynthia handed her headgear and gun to Rick. “Will you see about these? I’ve got to get a report out of the car for Sean.”

“Uh, sure.” Rick took the equipment. Rick turned to him. “I can take yours too.”

Flipping the mask off, Sean handed it and the gun to Rick. “It belongs to some guy with red hair who was standing up by the shed.”

“That’d be Johnny. I’ll see that he gets it.” Rick headed in the direction he’d come.

“Let’s go. My car is over here,” Cynthia said as she walked toward what he assumed was the car park.

Sean followed. Even in the coveralls, Cynthia had a nice swing to her hips. She had a generous behind that proclaimed she was all woman.

This interest in her had to stop.


CHAPTER THREE (#u959a1379-1b73-5c95-80a7-c45b1f878489)

CYNTHIA GLANCED AROUND at Sean. A look of guilt flickered in his eyes. Had she just caught him checking her out?

Her spine tingled. There had been a moment just like it when he’d been on top of her. He was affecting her in ways she wasn’t completely comfortable with. What was going on? This couldn’t continue. He was in truth her boss and even if he wasn’t they lived in two different worlds.

She made her strides longer. He should be sent on his way as soon as possible. There wasn’t time in her life to think about Sean Donavon. Her brothers and keeping their financial heads above water were all she needed to focus on. Her life didn’t need muddling by dreamy thoughts of Sean.

Thankfully they soon reached her car. But then she realized she had to remove her coveralls to get her keys out of her jeans. Distressed, she tried to make it clean and simple, instead of the striptease she was afraid it might look like. Cynthia didn’t miss the slight uplift to Sean’s lips when she wiggled back and forth as she struggled to remove the material from her shoulders. He was appreciating the spectacle she was making.

“A gentleman would offer to help,” she snapped as she continued to twist.

He grinned. “I was sort of enjoying the show.”

Heat rose to her cheeks.

Sean stepped closer, which didn’t help matters in the least. He gave her collar a tug.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He sounded sincere.

The panic that had simmered while she worked to undress had started to flame. Cynthia let the coveralls drop to her feet and dug into her pocket for her keys. Finding them, she laid them on the top of the car then pulled the coveralls up and tied the sleeves around her waist.

“So did you get the car you were having trouble with fixed?” Sean asked.

“It’s running but my pocketbook is empty.” She clicked the car door opener.

“I bet having this party at the same time didn’t help.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

Was he being critical? Did he think she was wasting money? “You’re not kidding. But Rick only turns eighteen once. He deserved a nice party. Some fun.”

“Maybe.”

Sean didn’t sound as if he agreed. “Anyway, it’s good for you. It just means that you’ll have me for as long as you need me.” Grabbing the file off the seat, she almost shoved it at him.

Something about the slight twist of his lips confused her. It was as if she was talking about one thing while he was thinking of another. A tremor washed through her body at the thought of him touching her. She hoped her reaction didn’t show. The man had her tied up in knots in more ways than one.

“Thanks.” He took the file in his hand.

“Cyn, come quick!” Rick, still dressed in playing gear, ran toward them waving his arm. “Ann Marie is hurt.”

“What’s wrong?” Cynthia called.

The boy yelled, “She’s hurt her leg.”

“Tell her not to move. I’ll be right there.” Cynthia dug under the car seat, pulling out a first-aid kit. When she stood she didn’t see Sean anywhere. Seconds later she was trotting toward Rick. At the sound of footsteps, she glanced to her right to find Sean beside her.

At what must have been her questioning look he said, “I thought I might help.”

“Thanks.” She was grateful. If Ann Marie was badly injured she could really use his medical assistance.

They rounded a stack of drums on the playing field to find Rick on bended knee beside a girl. She was still wearing coveralls but her mask lay beside her. Her blond hair fell loosely down her back as she rubbed the ankle of her left leg. A couple of other kids stood looking down as her with interest.

Cynthia joined them and went down on her knees. “Ann Marie, I’m Cynthia. Rick’s sister. What hurts?”

“My ankle. I can’t walk.” The girl’s pain was obvious.

Focusing on nothing else but Ann Marie, Cynthia put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her. “Let me look. Where exactly does it hurt?”

“Right here,” the girl cried out as she touched the spot.

Moving down to where she could easily reach Ann Marie’s foot, Cynthia began to push the pants leg of the coveralls up. “You let me know if I’m hurting you.” She slowly gathered the material until she could see the ankle area. “I’m going to need to roll your sock down.”

The girl shifted.

“Stay still. You wouldn’t want to make the injury worse.” Cynthia carefully touched Ann Marie’s skin, checking around the ankle bone for raised areas or tenderness. When her fingers reached the skin on the inside of Ann Marie’s ankle she winced.

Cynthia shifted, getting a better view. Even in the dimming afternoon light she could make out a purple discoloration of the skin. Her fingers moved to the strings of Ann Marie’s shoe.

“Don’t do that,” Sean’s stern voice told her. He joined her on the ground.

Cynthia had forgotten all about him. She was surprised he hadn’t said something sooner or taken over the situation. She gave him a questioning look.

“It could be broken. The shoe will act as a splint,” he explained. “It should remain on and be removed at the emergency department.”

That made sense. Cynthia sat back on her heels and spoke to Ann Marie. “You have definitely sprained it or worse. We’re going to have to make a trip to the ER.”

The teen started crying.

Cynthia lightly patted her leg, trying to comfort her. “You’re going to be fine.”

The girl gave her a tear-filled look. “My parents are going to be so mad at me. They told me not to come to the party.”

A knot formed in Cynthia’s stomach. She wasn’t looking forward to the conversation to come. “I’m sure they’ll understand. Right now let’s worry about that ankle. We need to get you to the car and on to the hospital.”

“I want to stabilize the foot more before she’s moved just on the off chance it’s broken,” Sean said.

Cynthia turned to him. “How do we do that?”

“We need something to wrap around the shoe that will support the ankle. A long piece of cloth, anything.” Sean looked at her then above them at the others watching.





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