Page 29 of Doctor One Night

I stop in front of her, crossing my arms. “What exactly were you referring to back there, about Frankie Renna? Dr. Renna.”

Jill hesitates, her eyes flicking to the side before meeting mine again. “I was just saying that Dr. Renna is very… I think particular is the right word. She is very possessive about her work and doesn’t like anyone interfering or questioning her methods.”

I narrow my eyes, not satisfied with the vague explanation. “Particular? That’s not what it sounded like. You’re worried about something. Don't hold back.”

She exhales, looking uncomfortable, but I can tell she’s weighing whether or not to say more. Finally, she speaks. “There was an incident a while back. I made a comment—honestly, I didn’t think it was a big deal—but it set her off. She was working on a study, and she felt I overstepped by suggesting a different approach. It got heated.”

“Heated?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say she’s very protective of her studies, Dr. Parrish. She doesn’t take kindly to anyone trying to tell her how to do her job, even if they’re just trying to help. And you… well, you’re not exactly the type to back down if you think something’s wrong.”

I process this, understanding now why Jill was so cryptic. Frankie’s possessiveness over her work and my own dogmatic tendencies could be a volatile combination, especially if we’re not careful.

Jill’s warning isn’t just about Frankie—it’s about the potential clash between us, one that could jeopardize the trial if it’s not managed properly. We are two people with strong convictions.

“I see,” I say slowly, my mind already spinning with the implications. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Jill nods, looking relieved that I’ve taken her concern seriously. “It’s just I know you well enough, I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds by saying something. I know you care about this trial. I can see the way you have jumped in. And I know she must, too, just knowing the little I do about her. I'd hate for things to go sideways, you know?”

“I know,” I reply, though my thoughts are already ahead, trying to anticipate how my meeting with Frankie is going to go. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jill gives me a small, tight-lipped smile before turning to leave.

Her warning plays in a loop in my head, making it hard to focus. I tap my fingers on the desk, glancing at the clock. It’s almost time for my meeting with Frankie. The issues are minor, but they’re there, and I want to make sure we’re on solid ground before we push forward. Now, as I head to her office for our meeting, I’m curious to see how she’ll respond.

When I step into Frankie’s office, she’s already sitting at her desk, the same calm, composed look on her face that I’ve come to expect. But there’s something in her eyes—something sharp and focused—that tells me she’s ready for this conversation.

“Dr. Parrish,” she greets me, gesturing to the chair across from her. “I’ve had a chance to review your concerns.”

“Hunter. Please.” It seems silly I have to say that. I had my dick in her not even two hundred feet from here. We are professionals, I get it. But we don't have to go the whole nine yards with the professional titles with each other if we are going to be working so closely on this.

I sit down, noting the organized stack of papers on her desk, the same ones I’ve been analyzing. She’s prepared, no doubt about it.

“I figured you had,” I say, leaning back slightly, trying to gauge her mood. “What do you think?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine. “Your concerns are valid, especially considering your perspective as a surgeon who deals directly with patients who need pacemakers. I understand why the data might raise some red flags.”

I nod, appreciating her acknowledgment but waiting for the other shoe to drop. If Jill is right, she’s not going to agree with me entirely, and that’s fine. In fact, it’s what I’m expecting.

She continues, her tone thoughtful. “I’ve spent a lot of time with this data, and I know this study inside and out. The deviations you pointed out, particularly in the patient response times and the variability in heart rate stabilization, are within the expected range for a trial of this nature. We’re dealing with a smaller sample size and a lot of variables, and while the fluctuations might seem concerning at first glance, they’re actually well within the acceptable parameters we’ve set.”

She pulls out a specific chart, pointing to the data in question. “Here, for instance, you noted that the response times seemed inconsistent, but if you look at the breakdown by age group and pre-existing conditions, you’ll see that the variations align with what we expected based on the initial projections. We anticipated these differences, and they don’t pose a significant risk to the trial’s overall integrity.”

I study the chart, seeing the logic in her explanation. It’s clear she’s thought this through, and while I still have my reservations, I can’t deny that her understanding of the data is impressive.

“But I understand your point,” she adds, her voice softening just a bit. “These are people we are talking about, not just numbers on a page. Your perspective as a surgeon is invaluable, and it’s important that we consider every angle before moving forward. That’s why I’m open to rechecking the data with these concerns in mind, to make sure we’re absolutely certain before we proceed to human trials.”

There’s a sincerity in her voice that surprises me. She’s protective of this study, no doubt, but she’s also willing to listen, to consider other perspectives—even when they challenge her own. It’s a balance I didn’t expect, especially after Jill’s warning. It’s both intriguing and, if I’m being honest, sexy as hell.

I lean forward, my gaze locked on hers. “I appreciate that, Frankie. I hope you don't mind if I call you Frankie.”

“Of course not,” she blushes. It's the first sign she isn't completely void of feeling.

“I know how much this study means to you, and I don’t want to undermine that. My job is to make sure we’re doing what’s best for the patients who’ll eventually rely on this technology. But it’s clear you’ve already considered these variables, and that shows just how much command you have over this work.”

For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—something beyond the professionalism she always maintains. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it leaves me wondering. Is she remembering what happened between us on the other side of that wall like I am?

“Thank you,” she says, her voice steady. “I want this trial to succeed just as much as you do, and I’m confident that with our combined expertise, we can make that happen.”

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