lips in shock at his words, and at his gentle tone, but he was completely right. There was no use in denying it: she’d wanted to walk out of his office with the project, not empty-handed.
“You can?” she asked, raising a brow. “How can you tell?”
Dr. Marbet chuckled. “I’m not a mind reader, but I can read faces pretty well. When you’re disappointed, your lips turn down at the corners just slightly.”
She felt her face get hot with embarrassment, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “They do not.”
He chuckled a little. “Defend your lips all you want, but I know you thought you’d be the only one I’m considering for this project.”
Though his words hit hard, his voice was light and teasing, causing her to wonder if he was playing with her feelings.
Liza smiled and shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “That’s because I know I’m the best. I’d like to prove it to you. One can always hope, right?”
“Don’t worry.” He smiled, opening the door. “I’ll be in touch. You’re not out of the running yet.”
Yet.
That lovely three-letter word left her future hanging by a string, but instead of making her quake with fear, this time she felt empowered because it meant she still had a chance to succeed.
She started to walk out, and then turned around to catch him watching her again.
“I probably shouldn’t be asking this, but what made you change your mind about interviewing me in the first place?”
“Let’s just say it was a promise I made to an old friend.”
The waves of the Pacific Ocean tumbled onto the sand as Anthony jogged along the Bay Point shoreline just after sunrise. He’d pulled a double shift at the hospital and had been on his feet over twenty-four hours. His muscular thighs screamed for relief through the first mile, easing up only slightly during the second.
The beach was one of his favorite places to run, and lately, to escape.
He took in deep gulps of air as his feet kicked up wefts of sand. Running, no matter what the surface, usually cleared his mind and relieved the constant stress that went with the job of being a physician. His demanding schedule at the hospital meant he didn’t have a lot of bandwidth for himself, so he treasured his time alone.
But today he wasn’t alone. She was in his thoughts.
Liza Sinclair. The attractive architect had impressed him with her confidence, her design portfolio and her never-ending curves. And if he’d had the opportunity to sleep in the hours since he’d met her, he figured she would have invaded his dreams, too.
There wasn’t a picture of her on her website, which he thought was a bit odd, and he hadn’t been sure what to expect when she arrived for her appointment. So when he opened his office door and saw how beautiful she was, he instinctively knew he was in trouble.
Liza’s clear, mocha-hued skin looked fresh and appealing. To his discerning eye, she was a natural beauty. The kind of looks his patients paid thousands of dollars to achieve with expensive fillers and invasive surgery.
He remembered staring into her eyes. The flash of longing there had struck him by surprise. Liza was the kind of woman who could steal his time...and his heart. It was as though his whole life had changed in an instant. He didn’t know what the future held other than the fact that he wanted Liza in it.
At least, at that moment.
Deep down, he knew he couldn’t afford any distractions. With a twinge of guilt, he recalled his on-the-spot decision to cancel the interview.
Her beautiful face had remained composed, almost serene. Yet the light of excitement had dimmed in her eyes, and he sensed her disappointment.
Even worse, he’d lied to her, telling her he’d decided to work with a professional firm, instead of a private architect, which wasn’t true at all.
He stopped running and grasped his knees, gulping in the salty air. He was in great shape and had several marathons under his belt, but for some reason, this morning he felt like he had never run a day in his life.
Anthony yawned as he took his shirt off and slung it over his shoulders. He was due back at the hospital in less than eight hours. It was time to head to his condominium in town for some much-needed sleep—that is, if he could get Liza off his mind.
As he turned on his heel, his phone vibrated against his bicep. Reaching up, he removed it from his armband and slid his thumb across the screen.
“Hello, stranger,” he said, good-naturedly.
“What did you think of her?” Doc Z barked. “When I didn’t hear from you right away, I got worried.”
Dr. Ivan Zander, or Doc Z as he was commonly known, was one of his favorite professors in medical school. After graduation, the two men had stayed in touch throughout Anthony’s residency in plastic and reconstructive surgery. Doc Z had even recommended him for a prestigious fellowship at UCLA Medical Center. Over the years, Doc Z had not only become a mentor but also a good friend, and most recently, an investor in his clinic.
Anthony chuckled as he started the long trek back home. “Come on, Doc. You don’t fool me. The funny bone doesn’t exist, neither does your penchant for worrying.”
“That’s because everything always goes my way,” Doc Z said.
The tone in his voice sounded haughty, but Anthony knew different. Doc had worked hard his entire life but at a mighty price. He was sixty-eight years old, never married, no children. Nothing to keep him warm at night except the soft glow of his computer screen. Instead of investing in relationships, Doc Z invested in stocks, bonds and upstart businesses like Anthony’s.
“Stop stalling, okay?” Doc Z continued. “What did you think about Liza?”
“She’s perfect.” In more ways than one.
Like an itch on his back that he couldn’t scratch, it made Anthony a little uncomfortable realizing how easily those two words had rolled out of his mouth. He blamed it on lack of sleep and lack of intimacy. Besides, no one was perfect, least of all him.
“Aha! I told you you’d like her,” Doc exclaimed triumphantly, interrupting his thoughts.
“Don’t gloat, Doc. It’s so unlike you,” Anthony replied, meaning the exact opposite.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Doc Z fired back. “She’s talented. Smart. And I handed her to you on a silver platter. What more could you want?”
Anthony sidestepped the waves rolling onto the shore. “A little more time to process what this all means would be helpful.”
“You think too much. I’ve done all the work. Now, all you have to do is hire her.”
Anthony stopped in his tracks, not caring if his shoes got wet. “Who said anything about
