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"Now that we're going to be colleagues, Doctor, I hope we can put the past behind us," said Jason Carmichael.
Green ice, that's what had formed his eyes in some glacial age when Neanderthals stalked the world, Heather thought. In this case, the Neanderthal had a degree from Harvard Medical School, short dark hair and a lean build beneath his expensive business suit. His collected manner failed to assuage her opinion that he was a semi-savage male who probably ate his steak sandwiches raw.
"As far as I'm concerned, there is no past," Heather told the new head of the Infertility Clinic.
The latest addition to the Doctors Circle complex, the clinic was in the final stages of remodeling and would open officially in April, two months from now. Jason had arrived earlier this week but had been so busy that, until now, he and Heather had exchanged only brief, impersonal greetings. She wished they could keep it that way.
Ever since his appointment had been announced last fall, rumors had spread about her supposed dislike of him. They'd been right.
Some fellow staffersattributed Heather's attitude to professional jealousy. Since she'd worked as an obstetrician at Doctors Circle for three years and had handled most of the infertility cases, she might have expected to be promoted to the post.
Others guessed that there was some personal conflict in their backgrounds. No one knew the truth, that she'd nearly made love to this man more than a year ago after meeting him at a convention. What a disaster that had been!
Heather hadn't confided the story even to the few friends with whom she'd shared her other secret, that she'd given up a baby for adoption when she was fifteen. Although her daughter had reappeared in her life and, along with a baby granddaughter, was now very dear to her, Heather saw no reason to spread that information around Doctors Circle. In her opinion, the more private she kept her life, the better.
"Did you get my email?" Jason said. "I expected a reply by now."
"I'm not sure. Which email was that?"
"I've only sent one."
"Then no, I haven't seen it," Heather said.
Jason gritted his teeth. "I don't see how you could have missed it. I sent it twice."
"I'm sure it's in the queue." She gestured at the computer screen that dominated the scattering of files and medication samples on her desk. "I clear it every Friday." Today was Wednesday.
Annoyance twisted his mouth. "You'll find I'm a stickler for organization, Doctor. That includes keeping up with your messages."
"I'm a stickler for being on time with my patients, even when that leaves me with a messy desk." Heather checked her watch. "Why don't you simply tell me what the message said? And why don't we drop this 'doctor' nonsense and call each other by our first names?"
Judging by his frown, Jason wasn't accustomed to being addressed so cavalierly. He'd better get used to it. People in Serene Beach, California, didn't stand on ceremony. Especially her.
"Very well, Heather." He emphasized her name. "I wrote to suggest that you and I walk through the new facility, unfinished as it is. I'd like to consult you about our planning."
A blush heated her cheeks. With her short mop of red curls and sprinkle of freckles, Heather colored easily when embarrassed.
And she was embarrassed. She'd been giving Jason a hard time when all he'd wanted was to discuss the plans for the clinic. Although she hated paperwork and therefore hadn't coveted the post of department head, she did want a say in how they set up staffing and scheduling.
So far, the two of them were the only doctors assigned to the clinic, although others would be arriving soon. His request was an appropriate professional courtesy.
"My four o'clock staff meeting got canceled. I could join you then," she said. "Would that work?"
"Certainly." Jason cleared his throat. "Listen, that isn't the only thing I wanted to discuss. We have some unfinished business to clear up."
Uh-oh. "Which business would that be?"
"Atlanta," he said.
Heather definitely did not want to discuss the medical convention in Georgia where they'd met some fifteen months earlier. That unpleasant experience was best consigned to the scrap heap of memories.
What on earth had possessed her to go up to his room and throw her inhibitions out the window? Thank goodness he'd fallen asleep before they could consummate a passion that, in retrospect, struck her as incomprehensible. His crankiness the following day had made it evident what a close call she'd had.
"That business is finished. You dotted the i's and crossed the t's very succinctly the next morning." She closed the file she'd been reviewing.
"I wasn't at my best that Friday," Jason said. If she hadn't known him better, it might have sounded like an apology.
"Being hungover is no excuse for rudeness."
"I can be difficult when I have a headache," he said.
"Who isn't?"
"You must get a lot of headaches. You're famous for your curt manner." Heather lifted her coffee cup, discovered that it was empty and set it down again. "You reduced your secretary to tears yesterday, I heard."
Usually, the efficiency of the grapevine at Doctors Circle drove Heather crazy. Once in a while, however, it came in handy.
"I didn't expect her to react so strongly." Jason ducked his head, and a well-shaped head it was, too, for a Neanderthal, she reluctantly conceded. "By the time I arrived, Coral had already unpacked all my files from Virginia. I suppose I overreacted, but she'll have to repack everything when we move across the courtyard to our new quarters."
"You're the one who requested a secretary be hired before you got here. In any case, you could have sent her instructions, since you're obviously a whiz with email." Heather got to her feet.
"I assumed she would liaise with my secretary in Virginia," Jason said.
Heather decided it would be impolitic to mention how much she hated trendy words like liaise. "Coral's new and I am sure she was trying to make a good impression."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe by Jacqueline Diamond
Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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