Page 14 of Doctor Bossy

Because I refused to think about it.

About what happened that night, about what I had done while thinking of a woman other than Heather.

Every time the thought threatened to come up, I began thinking of numbers and chemical formulas again, bringing my mind back to the present. I refused to dwell on it or let the guilt continue to torment me.

Whatever I had done, it was done, and I would never think of it again. There were more important things to take care of.

I worked well into lunchtime until my secretary knocked on the door and announced that I had a visitor.

“I don’t think I booked any appointments today.”

“No,” Willa said, patting her riotous bouncy curls, a sure sign that she was annoyed. “This one wasn’t booked, but she insists you have to see her. She’s very stubborn too, has been sitting here for nearly an hour even though I told her you weren’t seeing visitors today.”

“Who is it?”

“A Ms. Becca Moon…”

And just like that, everything I’d been trying not to think of came flooding back.

Shit. Irritation cropped up. What on earth was she doing here?

Why did she keep appearing before me as if the universe was determined to test the limits of my commitment to the promise I made to Heather?

In the twelve years since Heather died, I’d never once even been tempted to be with another woman.

Why now, and with a woman who was entirely too stubborn for her own good?

“Tell her to—” Leave. That was what I should have said, but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t quite follow through. Reason battled with emotion. She may not be here just to torment me. She likely needed some help. Perhaps the biochemistry department did not give her her job back.

I still felt bad for the girl and everything she had gone through already in such a short time. The least I could do was see her and maybe even get her to accept the financial help I wanted to give.

I told myself that was why I said, “Tell her to come in.”

Willa showed her surprise and some disapproval before she retreated. After a few more minutes, there was another knock on the door. I knew it was Becca. The knock was hesitant but somehow brimming with confidence at the same time.

Only Becca seemed to be able to strike that careful balance.

“Come in,” I said.

She stuck her head in and smiled at me. “Hi.”

“What do you need, Becca?” I said, deciding to get right to the crux of the issue. The faster I could help her, the faster I could get her out of here and out of my life.

Her smile faltered at my tone, but she came in nevertheless, settling herself in the chair in front of my desk and taking her time to smooth out the ruffles in the flowy skirt she was wearing. It was the first time I’d ever seen her in a skirt, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the cotton skimmed over her curves, outlining the soft valleys. It reminded me of the softness I felt that day when I held her—that night that continued to haunt me.

I waited, letting her collect herself before she pinned me with a straightforward look.

“I think you should hire me to work here.”

Ah, I should have seen this coming. It seemed to me that she didn’t take my rejection seriously enough.

I opened my mouth to utter another denial, but she held her hand up and practically cried out, “Hold on, don’t shut me down just yet. Let me explain my qualifications first.”

I wanted to tell her in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t be working here, but I thought I should hear her out first. I leaned back in my chair, waiting for her to talk.

“So, before I came to see you, I took the liberty of asking around about the work you do, outside of what I already found out from my research,” she said. “I know you’re about to begin clinical trials for your new drug, Terradol. It’s a chemotherapy pill that treats Terk’s Glioblastoma by a mechanism that attacks the PLAUR protein of the cancer cells. I can explain the entire process in more detail if you’d give me more time.”

While she was talking, I tried not to watch her mouth move or focus on its curvature. Instead, I paid attention to her words, smirking as she finished. It was impressive but not quite accurate.

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