her growing excitement, she realized she had to remain calm.
“I could see a courtyard area working well for your clinic.”
He nodded. “Perhaps as an extension of the waiting room. It would be more peaceful, during what is obviously a very stressful time.”
“We could create a separate, private courtyard, specifically for your high-profile clientele.”
He braced his palms against the table as he bent to take a closer look at the renderings, and she had the sudden urge to rest her hand against the curve of his back.
“I like that idea, Liza.”
She hitched in a quiet breath at the sound of her name on his tongue.
“This design was actually for a client in South Carolina,” she continued, as if her world hadn’t just stopped. After all, when she got the gig, she’d hear him say her name all the time. Might as well practice subduing her reaction to it, she thought. “They loved it and the climate was obviously perfect for it, but they decided to go for something a little more traditional.”
Dr. Marbet looked back and shot her a quirky smile. “You mean boring, right?”
She smiled back, pleased again at his response. It was a good sign. It meant that he was a risk taker, and that, if hired, she would be able to take some artistic chances.
“People pay good money for architects to stretch the boundaries of their own creativity. It’s truly a shame when they revert back to traditional design ideas out of fear.”
He straightened, and his expression turned serious, turning her momentary joy into concern.
“Aesthetics aside, the surgical units and patient rooms are also extremely important. I plan on having the latest technology, equipment and treatments available at my clinic. The design must be able to support a state-of-the-art facility. Will it?”
“Not to worry, I’m well aware of and have experience in the complexities of health-care facilities planning,” Liza assured him, with a wave of her hand. “The innovative care and the excellent patient experience will be the focus of the design, not the other way around.”
Dr. Marbet’s brown eyes met hers. “We’ll need to work together to ensure that the dimensions of each room and unit are appropriate to the equipment it will contain.”
There was a sudden, invisible spark between them. Working closely on a regular basis with Dr. Marbet would present its own challenges, namely to her heart. With his good looks, he probably had a lot of women throwing themselves at his feet, and she resolved that she would never be one of them.
She squeezed her thumb and index finger together. “I’m available almost 24/7.”
He let out a mock groan. “Aw. No three a.m. blueprint reviews? I’m not on my own yet. You do realize that I still sometimes work odd hours?”
Liza laughed. “If that’s what it takes to get the project done, I’ll brew a thermos of coffee and adjust my schedule.
“I know we’re probably running out of time, so let me show you a few more.” She pointed to the second design. “This one was for a technology start-up in Austin. They loved it, but sadly they lost all their funding the day before we were going to sign the contract.”
Dr. Marbet shook his head and whistled through his teeth. “Better before you put pen to paper than if you’d already started.”
“Tell me about it. We were very wary of working with start-ups after that fiasco.”
He folded his arms. “Don’t worry. Money won’t be an issue with this project. This is a private clinic, funded by myself and a few key and very wealthy investors.” He gestured toward the table. “Tell me about this one.”
Liza felt a burst of pride. “This is one of my favorites. The design was for a high-concept restaurant by a famous farm-to-table chef.”
He leaned one hip against the table. “What happened to this project?”
“Food poisoning in the chef’s other restaurant. A lot of people got very ill, and one almost died. My former firm actually pulled out of that deal first.”
Liza shook her head, remembering the stern warnings from their corporate counsel. “We didn’t want to be associated with the bad publicity.”
Dr. Marbet made a face. “Smart move. I don’t blame them.”
“Yes, and that experience was so awful that it cemented my dream to break away from corporate and start my own business.”
His grin was slow, easy and smoldered all the way to her heart.
Dr. Marbet turned back to the table and examined each rendering again. When he was finished, he turned around. Moments passed. Though his expression didn’t reveal anything, she remained inwardly confident.
And this is the part where you tell me I’ve got the project.
He crossed his arms, his tough-guy stance reappearing, and her confidence began to waver.
“Ms. Sinclair. Although these designs are very good and I appreciate you showing them to me, since none of them have actually been built, it appears that you have no real track record in commercial design.”
Though his tone wasn’t harsh, Liza felt the snap of his words in her heart. But she wouldn’t take things personally—this was too important. She calmly took a big breath, thankful that she’d already prepared for this moment, the not-so-subtle accusation.
“Since I started my own firm a few years ago, my focus has been on residential design. As you’ve seen in the renderings today, when I worked at Begley, Stuart and Harris in Denver, I assisted on many commercial projects. But as time went on, I quickly realized that both my residential and commercial designs were, and still are, for clients who are more open-minded to an aesthetic that is typically unconventional.”
He stared at her, and she felt as though he was testing her in some way.
“It sounds like you and I may have a similar vision,” he began, sounding strangely hesitant. “However, you should know, I still have a few more architectural firms who will also be pitching this project over the next several weeks.”
Liza’s heart sank, and she felt her willpower start to lag.
Competition. Something she loathed and welcomed at the same time. Although she was dying to know the names of the other firms he was considering, she wouldn’t dare ask.
“I understand. Thank you for your time,” she uttered.
Her voice felt muffled to her ears, as if her throat were lined with cotton. Rejection always hurt, whether personally or professionally, and she didn’t think she would ever get used to it.
Liza turned her back on him, put her renderings in her portfolio case and zipped it up. When she turned around, his eyes were curious, leaving her to wonder what he truly thought about her.
Dr. Marbet walked her to the door but stopped short of opening it.
“You
