“Why? Just because he dresses nice?”
“It’s more than that!” Claire returned. She glanced down the hallway where Roger and the engineer were talking, still in view, but thankfully out of earshot. “Every woman in this company has made a run at him, me included. We’ve got all types here—brainy, busty, blonde and brunette. We’ve even got classy and the not-so-classy.”
“He never took a bite?”
“Not even a nibble.”
Amber shook her head. “That just means he knows better than to play where he works.”
“Yeah, but he goes to all these chichi parties, always with gorgeous women.”
“So?”
“So one of us always makes a point to find out afterward. You know, are they dating, what’s going on, and—”
“And they always say they’re friends.” Amber released a low laugh. “Honey, that doesn’t mean he’s gay. Just selective.” And probably very discreet.
“Trust me,” returned Claire, her voice confident. “No man is that virtuous. Unless he’s gay.”
Amber shook her head. “Let me give you a hint,” she said. “That man right there is a player, high-end executive type. Quiet. Discreet. But hot as they come.”
They both turned together to ogle him some more. He was still in deep discussion just down the hallway. The engineer was getting emotional, waving his printouts, gesturing wildly and pointing at a room marked Lab. In contrast, Roger listened seriously, his body taut, but his expression calm. And when the engineer finished speaking, Roger simply shook his head. Not surprisingly, the engineer got more frantic while Roger became more still. In the end, the engineer stormed off in a huff which left Roger time to look up and flash both Amber and Claire a rueful smile before moving down the hall.
Claire huffed. “Definitely gay.”
“Discreet, type A and hetero through and through.” Amber leaned back against the counter and sighed as a wave of memories hit. “Trust me on this. I know his type.”
Claire gave her an arch look, making sure to scan her shapeless sundress and cheap sandals. “I’m sure you think—”
“You think I grew up wearing flip-flops and a tank? I spent my youth dating guys like that. My father was an executive just like him. And my mother runs the cardiology ward at a top hospital. I was surrounded by the type.”
“And then?” Claire asked, obviously wondering how she’d gone from the silver spoon life to filling in as the plant girl.
Amber shrugged. “I burned out on the politics. I couldn’t get anything done except for what they wanted, so I went rogue. Doesn’t mean I don’t remember though. And let me tell you—sex with the alpha dog?” She sighed. “That’s one hot ride.”
Claire frowned, but then her eyes abruptly widened. “Wait a moment. I know you! Mary told me all about you.”
Amber winced. “Don’t believe everything Mary says.”
“No! She told me you’d be filling in. You’re that doctor! You run a free clinic out in that artsy area of Chicago. What’s it called?”
“Cherry Hills, not that there are any cherries or hills anywhere near. And it’s really not that artsy.” More like converted warehouses. The neighborhood artistes gloried in their studio lofts, but the population included more reformed drug addicts and single mothers than wannabe Picassos. Like her, everyone in Cherry Hills was just at the edge of poverty, struggling to keep it together.
“And you’re Doc Crystal!”
“My name’s Amber. They just thought it was a crystal and the name stuck…” she began, trying divert the discussion. But it was too late. Claire was off and running.
“Yeah! Doc Crystal. You’re like this doctor Robin Hood and Mother Teresa all rolled into one. Mary says you’re amazing!”
“Mary’s on massive painkillers. And I, um, gotta get back to these plants.” Amber turned away. She hated the hero worship that appeared in people’s eyes the minute they heard “free clinic” and “doctor” in the same sentence. That’s why she let people think she had a corporate background rather than high-end medicine. In her mind, they were one and the same, but for other people? There was a world of difference.
As for running a free clinic, her neighbor couldn’t afford a doctor, so he had come visiting one night. And then another neighbor and another. Before she knew it, she had regular patients. They didn’t care that she wasn’t affiliated with any hospital or clinic. They needed help she could give, and her services were free.
Meanwhile, Claire was following her around, her lips pursed in thought and a mercenary look in her eye. “How sure are you that Roger’s straight?”
Amber blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected the woman to ask. But she answered anyway. “One hundred percent straight.”
“Prove it.”
“What? How?”
“Think you could get him to kiss you?”
Amber frowned. Well, she’d been fantasizing about just that possibility for weeks now. She’d even figured out a way to approach him, but she’d never thought she’d actually implement the plan. But Claire wasn’t to be deterred.
“I’ll bet you a double mochaccino that you can’t.”
Amber laughed. “I don’t drink coffee.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t. Okay, how about this? I’ll get you a half-dozen of those big vegan muffins that Mary loves.”
Ooh, now there was a temptation. Amber had heard about those muffins. And truthfully, she had been thinking about arranging a meeting with Roger Martell for a while now. She thought RFE’s product line was very interesting and knew Jack might be intrigued as well. Yes, Jack, her once best friend and—a very, very long time ago—her lover. They’d kept in touch over the last two years. He’d call and try and tempt her back to Mandolin. She’d never been interested before, but now, thanks to near poverty, she was beginning to consider it.
She could meet with Roger, arrange for the introduction with Jack, and use the conversation to discreetly find out how things stood at Mandolin. She didn’t really want to admit it, but two years as a rogue researcher was wearing on her. Maybe if things had changed at the hospital, she’d consider going back.
And if she managed to wrangle a kiss from Roger at the same time, well, a girl could dream. She’d been two years out in the cold in her sex life, too. She knew just how to attract his attention, although she’d have to dig to the very back of her closet to find the clothes. And God only knew what had happened to her makeup. But still, it would be fun to play. Just a little kiss. What would be the harm?
“Well?” pressed Claire.
“Deal.”
3
