stood beside an open doorway, inviting her to enter by extending a hand. He joined her, making the area suddenly feel small. Moving behind a desk that had seen better days and was piled high with paper stacks, he remained on his feet. Positioned on her side of the desk was a straight-backed wooden chair that reminded her of one in the library of her elementary school and appeared just as inviting.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Cynthia. Please have a seat.” He took the chair on squeaky wheels behind his desk. It was by no means the latest model either.
Cynthia sat, then glanced around. This might be the saddest doctor’s office she’d ever seen. She’d envisioned a businesslike area filled with books, which this one was, but it also had a feeling of neglect. Somehow she had expected more. Minimal yes, but not so outdated and drab. There were no pictures of a wife or children, not even a dog. No indication of a hobby. No curtains hung above the utilitarian blinds. The one lone lamp on the desk only added to the sadness of the cluttered atmosphere. The space was an enormous contrast to the outstandingly handsome man sitting in front of her. What had happened to him for him to keep his personal space so...impersonal?
Did his home look this needy as well? Didn’t he have a wife, a mother, or at least a girlfriend who could help him out with decorating? Every fiber in her wanted to buy him an antique desk and two tufted chairs. He needed her plant worse than she did.
Dr. Donavon cleared his throat and her attention returned to him. Those piercing blue eyes watched her closely. “You don’t like my office?”
He was observant. She needed to make sure she schooled her emotions from showing too much on her face. “I just hadn’t expected your office to look...um...like this. Sometimes I let my imagination carry me away.”
Dr. Donavon leaned back in his chair giving her a direct look with a small smile on his lips. “How’s that?”
She glanced around again. “I don’t know. I just thought it might not be so uh...” How could she say this without sounding critical? “Maybe have more chrome and glass.”
“I’m not really into chrome and glass.”
Cynthia gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not either. Please forget I said anything. You didn’t ask me here to insult your décor or to be your interior decorator.”
“My apologies as well. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You’re not what I expected either.”
“I hope you aren’t disappointed.” She wasn’t sure where this meeting was going.
“I would say quite to the contrary. You’re a pleasant surprise.” He continued to study her.
Cynthia didn’t know how to react to that statement. What had he expected? Was he flirting with her? It had been so long since a man had, she wasn’t sure she would recognize it when it happened. “Thank you, I think.”
“It was a compliment. I’m being rude and have embarrassed you. That’s certainly not what I intended, especially when I need to ask you a favor.”
“Ask me? A f-favor?” she stammered.
“Yes. I’d like you to consider helping me get the final draft of my grant proposal together.” He gave her a charming smile. “I could really use your help.” He made a point of indicating the stacks on his desk.
“Me? Why me? I don’t know anything about putting together a grant.”
“Maybe not, but I can help with that. From what I can tell you have good organizational skills on the computer and you’re a fast and accurate typist. I need those skills to get this grant out on time. If you’ll accept my proposition, I’ll pay you time and half.”
Heat crept up the back of her neck. She was sure he hadn’t realized what he’d said about a proposition but she had. After fantasizing about him, and now seeing that he was devastatingly attractive, her mind was coming up with crazy ideas. Cynthia shifted in her seat. She must be careful not to make a fool of herself. “I’ve already agreed to do your transcription.”
“Yes, but I need someone who can help me get my grant reports in order. Put the documents into the format and order required ASAP.”
“I appreciate your offer. But I’m going to have to decline it. I have my family to consider and my other clients. My time is pretty tight as it is.” She watched as his smile disappeared. For some reason she hated being the one who made it vanish.
He coaxed, “I’m sure your husband would understand that it’s only for a few weeks. And I don’t think it would be so time-consuming you couldn’t do your other dictation.”
“I don’t have a husband.” Was there a hint of relief on his face when she said that? “I’m responsible for my brothers.”
He leaned forward. “How old are they?”
“In their late teens.”
He looked mystified. “Wouldn’t they understand you being away some?”
“They probably wouldn’t notice but I would.” He certainly wasn’t going to give up easy.
“What if I pay you double time?” He crossed his arms on his desk.
Her eyes widened. There were hundreds of things she could use that money for. But money wasn’t the most important thing in the world. It was nothing like being there for Rick at his games or being around when Mark needed to talk. Particularly with his current frame of mind. His schooling was too important for him to drop out. “I’m sorry. I’m still going to have to say no.”
“Is there any way I could convince you?”
“Not now. I’m sorry I can’t help you.” She looked at her phone. “I really need to go. I’m supposed to be across town in thirty minutes.”
“Then you must go,” he said in a businesslike tone that still sounded special wrapped in his beautiful baritone.
Cynthia put her purse under her arm and stood.
He leaned back in his chair but didn’t come to his feet.
She offered her hand. “I really am sorry.”
He stood and took it. His was large and enveloped hers, making her feel tiny yet somehow protected instead of smothered. He said, “I am too. If you change your mind just let me know.”
Cynthia nodded. He let her hand go. She felt the loss of warmth immediately. Her knees shook slightly as she walked down the hall. No man should have that kind of effect on her just by touching her hand.
Sean watched Cynthia’s ash-brown hair swing across the tops of her shoulders as she walked out of the door. She certainly wasn’t the frumpy middle-aged woman he’d anticipated. Instead she was a young vibrant woman who knew her own mind. She was far more interesting than he’d expected. What compelled such a striking woman to become a transcriptionist who stayed behind the scenes? Somehow it didn’t fit her. She looked more suited for the front desk.
Cynthia might be short in stature but she was tall in backbone. He like the way her green eyes expressed her feelings. They’d certainly made it clear how she felt about his office. She’d bitten the corner of her mouth as she’d thought
