Page 3 of A Twist of Faith
“Perhaps technically.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “But ethically?”
Alex drew out a long sigh. “You are a very bright woman, and no doubt you will be in top form to present at the National Conference soon. But you lack an important ingredient for the success associated with such an honor.” He sobered, like he just might have found a heart. “You have excellent theory, you’re a solid clinician and researcher, but you have practically no experience. This presentation is part of a round table discussion with the experts. You just received your doctorate in May, Dee.” He tapped her desk as he rounded it, sat on the edge, and then offered her another consolatory smile. “You’re not ready for that.”
Her eyebrows and blood pressure shot skyward.Not ready?“It took me six years to finish my PhD, and four of those years were spent devouring research on accent modification.Ifollowed through with all the protocol.Ifound the subjects to evaluate and treat.Iwrote the papers. AndIshould present those findings at ASHA.” She marched around him and jerked open the window. “It’smyresearch.”
Well, that got his attention. He stood to his full height, eyes narrowed. “Self-promotion has never been your strong suit. Do you think you’re prepared for the pressure of researchers grilling you?” He held his palms out toward her. “By all means, if you’re ready, you need to prove it.”
“I can prove it.”
“You’ve not shown a lot of personal initiative so far. You’ve been more of a follower.”
Her cheeks flamed hot enough to evaporate her makeup. “During the past two years, I’ve helped over forty clients reduce their accents. Two native Appalachian speakers even went on to land jobs in Fortune 500 companies. Ihaveexperience and saw faster results with my clients than …” She snatched more books from the tote and tossed them toward a shelf. One clipped the edge and fell to the floor.
Alex stepped closer to retrieve the textbook, green gaze never leaving her face. “Finish your thought, Dr. Roseland. You saw faster results than me? Isn’t that what you were about to say?” Placing the bookback on the top shelf, Alex brought his face and every ounce of his cologne into her personal space. “This isn’t a contest, Dee.”
His use of her nickname tightened her spine. She hated how he towered over her. Even on tiptoe, she barely reached that Grecian nose of his.
“I’ve seen over three hundred clients and presented at ASHA on four separate occasions, as well as at several other national conferences.” His voice gentled, almost coaxing. “My expertise isn’t as focused on accent modification as yours, because I’ve spread my research out with the Aphasic population, but I am clearly more qualified to—”
“It’smyresearch, Alex.” She shoved her finger into his chest. “I have the knowledgeandskills, and Icanprove it.”
“Really?” His tone almost mocked her ability—or at least it sounded that way to her nagging insecurities.
Adelina stepped past Alex to the other side of her desk. She looked at the picture of her father—and with new confidence continued. “I can take any hillbilly in this town and pass her off as a Harvard grad in twelve, maybe even ten weeks.”
Alex sat back on the corner of the desk bringing them closer to eye level. “Ten weeks?” He didn’t try to hide his amusement. He laughed. “I’ll admit you’re good, but not that good.”
“You pick anybody. I can do it andwhenI do, I’ll present at ASHA in your place.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“And if I don’t …” She racked her brain for an ultimatum, something powerful. Something worth the fight. “You can take all of my former research and use it as you will.”
“’S’cuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt.” A deep rumble of words pulled her attention to the doorway and away from their heated discussion.
A rugged looking man stood framed by the doorway, muscular arms tan against a pale blue shirt half hidden underneath dark overalls. His jaw line was shaded by a five o’clock, no, more like ten o’clock shadow. Midnight hair in a disarray of curls topped his head and spilled over his forehead, enhancing a pair of chocolate-brown eyes. The nervous movement of the cap in his hands came in direct contrast to the strength and confidence in his size, but it also told her something else. He was as out of his element as she was.
“Need any help, ma’am?” He spoke the words to her but focused his attention on Alex.
Adelina blinked out of her trance and snagged a breath, casting a glance back at Alex whose jaw was set with purpose. The last thing she should feel toward the burly farmer in the doorway was safety, but something about her knight-in-overalls almost had her stepping closer to his side to take cover.
“No, thank you.” Adelina smiled. “May I help you?”
His gaze—alive and intense—focused back on her face. There was a gentleness in those eyes that caused her to pause, to wonder for just a second what might hide behind them. His eyes were dark, rich brown, more like milk chocolate.
“I’m real sorry for presentin’ myself like this. I wasn’t plannin’ on comin’ into town today.” He patted a tanned hand against his chest and offered an apologetic grin that didn’t quite match the farmer motif—a perfect row of white teeth. “You know a Dr. Roseland?”
Adelina worked to keep the surprise from her expression. “Dr. Adelina Roseland?”
“Adelina?” He tried the name on his tongue, a kettle drum of consonants. “Well now, Mama ain’t said nothin’ about the doc being a lady.”
How on earth could he make the wordmamasound so sweet, even with his vowel-mutilation? In her experience, the two rarely fit together.
Adelina pushed away from her desk and extended her hand. “I’m Dr. Roseland.”
His dark brows tilted ever so slightly followed by another glimmer of teeth. “Nice to meetcha.” He stepped further into the room, all two hundred-something lean pounds of him, and took her hand. His skin was rough, but not his touch. She looked up from their clasped hands and a sudden sense of safety washed over her.
Heat drained from her face and she pulled her hand from his. She hadn’t felt safe in a long time.
