Page 24 of Offside Attraction

He huffed a breath. "Yeah, people like us aren't really good at that."

Rhonda scoffed. "Okay, I may not have linear, forward momentum with relationships, but that doesn't mean that I'm not serious about my job. Is that what this is? Trying to weed out whether I'm going to be flighty and noncommittal with your boss before you give me access to him?"

Jordan cleared his throat. He should tell her. He should admit that he wouldn’t be able to get her a meeting with Mallory. That she had a better chance of landing an audience with him if she pretended she’d never met him.

But then he thought about her standing up and walking away like she had at the Dusty Rose, about her never using that number he’d scrawled on the napkin, and something inside of him locked down like a table brake.

Jordan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Rhonda’s face grew serious. “I can show you all the data on the drug I want to get on the formulary here. If that would help.” She picked up her phone then set it down again. “Might be easier on my laptop, but I didn’t bring it.”

Jordan nodded, his pulse rushing in his ears. “Where do you live?”

Chapter

Seven

Rhonda

Rhonda walkeddown the sidewalk between the ultra-modern apartments on either side of her. They were painted in earthy colours, all straight lines and metal railings. It had only been half an hour since she left the hospital, but it felt like a year with all the thoughts playing battle bots in her head.She wasn’t going to tell him where she lived.

Listening to Coldplay on the way over had only accomplished so much. She couldn’t expect Chris Martin to put her completely at ease in a situation like this. Especially when she knew damn-well she shouldn’t be here. But what were the other options? Do this at her place? Automatic no. Meet at a Tims and talk about addiction recovery with every Grandma in the Northwest?

She shivered. A cold front was blowing in, and she was grateful for her thick wool tights and the fact that she’d picked a thicker blouse to go under her blazer. She pushed through the doors to building A, then smoothed her skirt and straightened her back, replacing her laptop bag strap over her shoulder before walking forward and pushing the button for the elevator.

She glanced around the lobby. Took in the calming, abstract art. This would be simple. She’d already presented in front of hundreds of doctors and medical professionals at three other medical centres in the past month. She’d prepared for this conversation meticulously. She had every detail about Reviact memorized, every potential question Jordan could throw at her thought through, and every answer polished to a sheen. After seeing the data, he wouldn’t be able to turn her away in good conscience.

The elevator dinged, and Rhonda took it to the third floor, then exited and followed the signs to Jordan’s door. She drew a deep breath and knocked. This was business. It was the mantra she’d repeated the whole drive over. She needed Jordan to take her seriously because, after last night, she'd already blurred the lines more than she'd intended. There couldn’t be any hint of impropriety—she wasn’t manipulating Jordan to get to Dr. Mallory, just presenting the facts.

Jordan was a contact. Just another hospital employee who could help get her product to the people who needed it. Her heart beat a little faster than it should, but she attributed that to the fact that she was about to enter the house of a man who’d seen her naked. More likeheardher naked.

She groaned, then closed her eyes and forced another deep breath in.

Within seconds, Jordan answered the door, and Rhonda's pulse stuttered. He had changed out of his scrubs and was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. She didn’t know which was worse, but what did her in was that his hair was wet. Exactly like it was the first time.Had he done that on purpose?Her eyes traced the lines of his collarbone, barely visible above the collar of his shirt.

“Come in.” Jordan stepped back, and her stomach flipped. That was a normal thing to say, but hearing it out of his mouth . . . Ugh. It was like his voice was laced with ginseng or whatever other eastern medicinal herbs Tina had been talking about that boosted libido. She clearly didn’t need any of them.

Rhonda slipped off her shoes and set them next to the door, then followed Jordan down the hall and into a small living room. The whole place smelled like his body wash. It wasn’t cologne. It was too subtle. She found herself wondering if he was a bar soap or loofah guy. She could use his washroom and?—

"Can I get you anything? Water?" Jordan asked.

"Umm, sure. Water would be good." She opened her bag, pulled out her laptop.

The space was cozy, with a deep chocolate brown leather couch and a rustic coffee table. The walls were clean and minimalist with a few pieces of art and some hockey memorabilia. Rhonda set her laptop bag on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch, her pulse still thrumming from the sight of him standing there in his own space. It was how she’d felt when she’d gone on a behind-the-scenes tour at the Calgary Zoo as a middle schooler and first walked through the “Staff Only” door.

Jordan sat down on the couch next to her, and she slid a little on the cushion. He set the water down on a coaster in front of her, and Rhonda opened her laptop. She scooted to the edge of the couch, not looking up as she clicked through her files. "I know this isn't your first rodeo, so I'll skip the sales pitch and get straight to the important points." Might as well get into it.

Rhonda pulled up the first blue slide. "Reviact is a long-acting medication for addiction management. It's designed to reduce cravings by stabilizing neurotransmitter levels, specifically those linked to reward and dependency pathways in the brain."

She scrolled through the next few slides then paused to show tables and graphs as she launched into the clinical data. "In our third-party trials, we've seen a seventy-three percent success rate in reducing relapse rates over a six-month period. Patients have also reported a sixty percent improvement in adherence compared to standard treatments." Rhonda glanced at Jordan, who was watching her computer screen, his face unreadable.

She continued, outlining the patient benefits and potential for improving addiction treatment outcomes. Her words were measured, her tone calm, but inside she was tangled up like a fitted sheet in the dryer. He was giving her nothing. No smile. No “hmms” or other sounds whatsoever. Was he impressed? Skeptical? Bored?

Rhonda blew out a breath. "So, in summary, Reviact offers a more effective and sustainable solution for patients struggling with addiction. It's not a magic bullet, but it's a significant step forward." She clicked to the next slide, her finger hovering over the mouse. "Any questions so far?"

Jordan leaned closer, his knee brushing against hers, and Rhonda's breath hitched. She forced herself to look at the screen, but she couldn't ignore the way his hand slid along the back of the couch near her shoulder. The scent of his soap, fresh and clean, filled her senses.

"You mentioned patient adherence. How exactly does Reviact improve that compared to other treatments?" he asked, his voice reverberating through her.

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