“You’re very sure of yourself, Mr. Ramsey.” Letter to Reader Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN Copyright
“You’re very sure of yourself, Mr. Ramsey.”
“Confidence gets results, Dr. Barnes.”
“Up until now, confidence might have gotten you results,” she said sweetly.
“Are you suggesting I should change tactics?”
“I’m suggesting you abandon the project.”
“I don’t think so. You’re an interesting challenge.”
Marcia’s nostrils flared. “Now you’re being insulting.”
Quentin stepped closer and said softly, “You liked it when I touched you.”
Gritting her teeth, Marcia thought about icebergs and glaciers and Scotch on the rocks—anything to prevent herself from blushing. “You took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“You really get under my skin, Marcia Barnes.”
“That’s mutual.” She had never been kissed like that in her life. Brief, beautiful and bewildering.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the third of three scintillating books by Sandra Field. When Sandra first came up with the idea for her book Beyond Reach (#1806) she fell in love with her characters so much that she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them behind. So she wrote another book. Then another.... And Significant Others was born. Sandra writes:
“This series of three books crept up on me unawares. After Troy and Lucy met in the West Indies, I found myself curious to discover how marriage would change them, hence Second Honeymoon (#1830), again set on an island, this time off the coast of Nova Scotia. Lucy’s laid-back friend, Quentin, and her uptight sister, Marcia, played minor roles in Second Honeymoon. Once Quentin had appeared on the scene, I knew I wouldn’t rest until I’d brought him face-to-face with Marcia....”
After Hours is Marcia and Quentin’s story.
Enjoy!
The Editor
After Hours
Sandra Field
CHAPTER ONE
SHE was losing it. Going bonkers.
Marcia Barnes stood in the living room of her condo, gazing out the window at the Rideau Canal; along the bicycle path that followed the curves of the canal a couple of intrepid cyclers zipped along, undeterred by the rain. It was a peaceful scene. Trees that had just burst into leaf, tulips in geometric beds, tidy arrays of well-kept houses. Everything neat and in perfect order.
Not like her.
She pulled a hideous face in the plate glass window. However, if this had been an attempt to quell the anxiety that had been with her ever since the meeting that afternoon at the medical research institute where she worked as an immunologist, it failed miserably. At the meeting the director, in a voice as smooth as cream, had spoken of budgetary restraints that might lead to cutbacks in staff. Cutbacks that could go as high as fifty percent. Although Marcia had worked there for seven years, she by no means had seniority.
Her work was her life. Had been as long as she could remember. She’d be lost without it.
She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to refuse Lucy and Troy’s invitation to dinner. Bad enough that she’d agreed to go to the gallery where their friend Quentin what’s-his-name’s show was opening.
Quentin. The name conjured up Harris tweed jackets and a pipe. An uppercrust British accent. Landscapes modeled after Constable’s, with puffy white clouds and placid brown cows.
The last thing she felt right now was placid—she who everyone thought was so into control. Rather, she felt as though her life, so carefully constructed and so rigidly maintained, was falling into pieces around her.
She went into the kitchen and located her invitation to the gallery—the most exclusive gallery in town. Not that she cared. She didn’t want to get dressed up and go out again. She didn’t want to meet Quentin Ramsey, whose show, called Multiple Personalities, was being touted in such glowing terms. Nor did she want to see her sister Lucy and her brother-in-law Troy, who had arrived in Ottawa yesterday just to be at the opening.
What she wanted to do was fill her bathtub to the rim with steaming hot water and big globs of bubble bath, turn on the most soothing music she possessed and forget all about the outside world. After that she’d go to bed. How else to end a day from hell?
She sighed. Lucy was already puzzled by her refusal to have dinner with them. Although Lucy and Troy lived in Vancouver, they were spending the next two months in Ottawa because Troy was teaching pediatric residencies in two of the city hospitals. They’d brought the baby with them. If Marcia didn’t turn up at
