Page 17 of Doctor One Night

As I approach the conference room, I force a smile, straightening my posture. It’s just a meeting between colleagues, I’ve got this.

The familiar smell of whiteboard markers and the xylene solution used to prepare microscope slides lingers in the air. I take a deep breath and dive into getting everything set up. Where is my lavender candle when I need it?

First things first. I head to the projector, fishing my USB drive out of my bag. As I plug it in, I silently pray there won't be any technical hiccups. The last thing I need is for the presentation to crash right when we're getting started.

While the computer boots up, I pull out the printouts I've prepared for Hunter and Theo. I've gone over these a hundred times, making sure every detail is perfect. Carefully I place them in the men’s seats, straightening the edges just so.

The projector whirs to life, and I pull up the presentation. Everything looks good and in order. I click through the slides, double-checking that all the animations and transitions are working smoothly.

Now for the hard part. I stand at the front of the room, running through the key points I want to discuss. “Okay, Frankie,” I mutter to myself. “Start with the overview of the current pacemaker technology. Then move into the limitations we've identified.”

I pace as I rehearse, gesturing to imaginary slides. “Highlight the improvements our design offers. Emphasize the potential impact on patient outcomes.” My voice grows stronger as I go, my confidence building.

“Don't forget to mention the preliminary test results,” I remind myself. “And make sure to stress the need for Hunter's surgical expertise in the next phase.”

I'm so engrossed in my mental run-through that I blank out the sound of the door opening behind me.

“I got your surgical expertise.”

I whip around to the source of the booming voice, and there stands Hunter in all of his fucking ridiculously handsome boyish looks glory.

SIX

Hunter

5:33 pm

When I walked in, I fully expected to see Theo Bench waiting for me with the usual stack of files and a laser focus on the pacemaker trial. Instead, I'm frozen in my tracks, because the person pacing the room isn’t Theo. It’s Frankie.

Goddamn.

For a second, I just stand there, stunned, trying to process what I’m seeing. She’s muttering to herself—something about protocols and timelines and surgical expertise. She’s completely absorbed in her thoughts.

She’s not wearing her usual white lab coat. Instead, she’s wearing a tight but professional pencil skirt that hugs her round, full curves, paired with a silk blouse that compliments the deep brown waves of her hair and those striking green eyes I remember all too well.

She’s beautiful. Stunning, actually. And it hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me before I even have a chance to gather my thoughts. This caught me off guard. Seeing her again caught me off guard.

I step further into the room, trying to get a grip on myself, but my mind is spinning. Why the hell didn’t Theo tell me she was involved in this project? I thought I was here to talk pacemakers and clinical trials, not to walk into a room with the one woman who’s been occupying way too much space in my head for the past six months.

And now I just scared the shit out of her, breaking into her preparation with my smirky comment. She was too busy running through what looked like the entire agenda, flipping through files on the table, completely in her zone, to notice the door open.

I swallow hard, shoving down the nerves that are clawing their way up my throat. This isn’t like me. I don’t freak out. I don’t get rattled. But Frankie, she’s different. What the fuck?

“Hunter,” she says, her voice a little winded, like she’s also having to catch her breath. I’m sure I scared the shit out of her the way I came in and busted up in her preparation without her noticing my entrance.

“Frankie,” I manage to get out, my voice sounding steadier than my legs at the moment. “I didn’t realize you were part of this project.”

She blinks, and for a moment, there’s something in her eyes that stops me. Maybe it’s nerves, or it could be something else. But she recovers quickly, straightening up and giving me a small smile. “Yes, this is my project. I’ve been running it for the past two-plus years. I thought you knew.”

I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around it. “Theo didn’t mention it.”

She nods slowly like she’s processing that information, too. “Well, surprise, I guess.” She holds up her hands dramatically and smiles. She’s good, putting me at ease, diffusing my obvious discomfort.

I let out a breath, trying to dry my sweaty palms as I take a seat at the table. What I need is a minute to get myself together, to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to navigate this. I wonder if, at this point, it would be awkward to back out of my offer to assist with the trial.

She sits down across from me, and for a moment, we just look at each other, the air between us charged with something unspoken. I should be focusing on the project, on what this meeting is supposed to be about, but all I can think about is how close she is, how stunning she looks, and how utterly unprepared I am for this.

I clear my throat, trying to break the tension that’s thick enough to cut with a scalpel. “Is Theo joining us?” I ask, my voice coming out a bit more clipped than I intend.

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