be helped. They were all doctors, they should understand that!
She turned the corner and slowed down a tad to get her breathing under control. Being late wasn’t the only reason she dreaded this meeting. Everyone in attendance would have been at the banquet last week. Everyone would know she’d made a fool of herself trying to compete in an area she had no business even venturing! She was a doctor, and a darn good one. Forget Jeb and concentrate on her work, she told herself for the millionth time.
True to her worst expectations, every eye immediately swung her way when she opened the conference room door and stepped inside. The lone empty seat was at the far end of the room. Murmuring an apology to Dr. Taylor, she began to walk toward it, only realizing at the last moment it was right next to Greg Hastings. Could life get any worse?
“Nice of you to join us, Dr. Trent,” Dr. Taylor said.
Excuses didn’t help. She nodded and sat, wishing she’d just skipped the meeting. She could have found out the news later from one of her friends. Susan Shattner looked at her and smiled, rolling her eyes. Susan had been late once, as Abby recalled. She too had been subject to Dr. Taylor’s scathing comments.
But never Dr. Hastings. Of course not, wasn’t he perfect?
Concentrating on Dr. Taylor, she did her best to ignore the man beside her. At least the chief of staff didn’t stop to make a snide comment this time.
“…which leads to the next item on the agenda. As you know, Steve Johnston co-chaired the conference committee with Greg. Due to the death of his father and the needs his mother continues to have, he’s leaving at the end of the month to return to Baltimore. I’ve relieved him of his conference responsibilities. But—” Dr. Taylor looked around the table, his gaze settling on Abby, “we still need a co-chair for the committee. Most of the work is done, but there will still be decisions to make, and continued supervision to make sure it comes off flawlessly. I’m appointing Abigail Trent to the position.”
Abby stared at him, dumbfounded. Incredulously she swung around to Greg Hastings. She was to share the committee chair position with him? The man who had witnessed her most embarrassing night ever? She couldn’t do it, not in a million years!
His cool gaze met hers, as if challenging her to say something.
She looked at Dr. Taylor again. “I don’t think I’m right for this,” she said. “I don’t have enough experience.”
“I’m not asking you to present a workshop, just assist Greg in coordinating the event. Sally Chapel and Bob Montgomery are also on the committee, to help as needed. But the final decisions will rest with you and Greg.” The subject was closed as far as he was concerned. He picked up a sheet of paper.
“Next up, the scheduling changes the Nursing Administration is requesting. It impacts primarily…”
Abby’s mind went blank. She couldn’t believe the assignment. Of all the people to be paired with. Not only did she and Dr. Hastings scarcely speak to each other, he’d been right there last week when Jeb had been so scathing. At least she’d been spared others hearing Jeb’s insult. Her cheeks burned again just remembering. She wished she could forget every moment, but her memory was excellent.
As, she was sure, was Dr. Hastings’s.
He slid a note in front of her: “My office after?”
Idly she noticed his bold handwriting, the easy-to-read note reminding her of his reputation for saying what he meant and never mind whose toes he stepped on—no emotions, no wasted energy.
She frowned and picked up her pen, scrawling back: “Can’t, I have appointments.”
Two minutes later the paper was returned: “When, then?”
She had a vague idea of cornering Dr. Taylor after the meeting and arguing against the assignment, but upon reflection, that might appear less than professional. And she could use the experience—if only it wasn’t with Dr. Hastings!
She dashed off the numeral four and slid the paper to her left. Her attention on the exchange of notes, she’d lost the trend of the discussion.
When the chief of staff called on Greg for an update on the conference, Abby tried her best to focus on what he was saying. After all, she’d have to come up to speed quickly.
But she found herself studying his hands as he held his papers, listening to the intonation and cadence of his voice as his richly masculine tones filled the room, cool and self-assured. He always was in control. Too controlled? she wondered. Did he ever let go? Maybe with close friends.
A close woman friend?
Frowning, she jerked her thoughts back to the presentation. She wasn’t going down that road. Whatever Greg Hastings did in his spare time was his business, not hers!
“Which brings us up to the ball on Saturday the twentieth. We have several civic organizations pledging support, so we should realize the goal we set.” Greg slanted a glance at Abby. “My new co-chair and I can check out the ballroom this week and make sure everything is on track. I trust Steve’s judgment, but this was one area I’ve neglected. With him gone, I’ll bring us both up to speed on that aspect.”
The ball! A major fund-raiser for the hospital, the annual charity event drew corporate sponsors and individuals alike. Held at the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco, it was lavish and elegant. Or so she’d heard. It would be the first one she had attended.
Abby looked warily at the chief of staff. That was one event she’d make sure she had a date for even if she had to hire somebody off the street!
“Good job, Greg. Any other items we need to address?” Dr. Taylor asked the staff.
Not hearing any, the meeting was adjourned.
“Susan, can I speak with you?” Abby jumped up before she could be cornered by Greg Hastings and, gathering her notes, hastened to join her friend.
“So,” Susan said, glancing over her shoulder.
“You and Greg. Is this a trend? You two went to that banquet last week, now co-chairs? Hmm, anything you want to share with a friend?”
“Yes, I wish I didn’t have this assignment. And didn’t you hear, last week was a duty escort arranged by Dr. Taylor.”
“Not according to the rampant rumors going around. Apparently there’s a nurse on the surgical wing who is very miffed.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t anyone have anything better to do than gossip?”
“About our sexy Dr. Hastings? I doubt it.”
“Oh, well, if it’s just about him—”
“Not exactly.”
Abby waited until the hallway was almost deserted, then dared to ask, “Not exactly?”
“There was some speculation as to the way you were dressed.”
Abby groaned with embarrassment. “I knew it, it was too much, wasn’t it.”
“Certainly not your style,” her friend said gently.
