The Hookup Plan, page 8
“Just give them time,” he said. “Let’s see what this consulting firm will do.” He folded his hands on his desk and asked, “Now, what about that other thing?”
London averted her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled.
“Dr. Kelley?”
“I am fine.” She enunciated each word carefully. He had a right to meet her statement with skepticism, but she resented it all the same. “I’ve found all kinds of ways to de-stress lately,” London told him, ticking items off on her fingers. “Yoga. Crochet. S—” She almost said sex. “Sewing,” she lied. “And I have a ton of essential oils a friend recommended I diffuse. My stress level is way down these days.”
“That’s good to hear. But what about your blood pressure?”
She twisted in her chair and stared at the faded picture of Texas bluebonnets on the wall behind his desk.
“It could be better,” London said. “But I’m handling it. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Okay,” he said. “Stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll take that under consideration,” she said as she pushed herself up from the chair and left the office.
If her mentor wanted to help keep her stress level down, he really should stop bringing up the fact that her blood pressure had moved from “elevated” to “get your ass on a beta-blocker—pronto” in the last month.
It began with what she thought was just a regular tension headache, but when she felt a slight dizziness, she’d taken her BP, just to be on the safe side. She’d stared at the sphygmomanometer in disbelief for a solid three minutes, convinced there must be something wrong with the blood pressure cuff.
The hypertension diagnosis shouldn’t have surprised her, yet she hadn’t been ready when her general practitioner confirmed the news. It was the ultimate gag gift from her dear father, who hadn’t given her so much as an “atta girl, London” in twenty years, yet had passed along his shitty genes and hereditary coronary disease.
Even though her privacy was protected under HIPAA, London had felt obligated to tell Dr. Renault about her diagnosis. Now she wasn’t so sure she should have told him anything. He nagged her like a mother hen—emailing her literature on the latest ACE-inhibitors as if she weren’t a doctor who could find this information for herself.
London made a mental note to skim the most recent one he’d sent. She’d bookmarked the website but hadn’t had time to look it over.
Hmm…maybe if she told Renault that having Drew’s consulting firm here at the hospital only added to her stress, he would make sure London didn’t have to deal with him?
Yeah, and then she would have to explain to Renault why Drew added to her stress. No, thank you.
By the time she arrived back on her floor, her bowel obstruction patient’s parents had arrived. She directed them to the minuscule consulting room, just off the nurses’ station. She was able to get the surgeon who had performed their daughter’s previous two surgeries in Brownsville on a Zoom call, and together they discussed possible prevention tactics so that they wouldn’t find themselves in this same place a year from now.
She was grateful the pediatric surgeon from Driscoll Children’s Hospital wasn’t super territorial and more concerned about ego than finding the right treatment for the patient. She dealt with those types way too often and made a concerted effort to never become one.
Did she sometimes disagree with another resident’s course of treatment? Of course. But as long as it was viable and wouldn’t put the patient more in harm’s way, London knew how to step back and allow another resident to take the lead. She was arrogant when it came to her work, but she wasn’t that arrogant.
She was already an hour past the end of her shift by the time she finished with the family from Brownsville. London downloaded the files she wanted to look over tonight from the shared server and packed up her things so she could leave. She didn’t want Dr. Renault to catch her here. One of the promises she’d made him was that she wouldn’t put in the abundance of extra hours she’d been known for during these past five years.
Of course, she’d also promised that she wouldn’t bring so much work home with her either. She doubted her mentor would approve of the number of case files she planned to review tonight.
She locked up her office and made her way to the elevator, hoping but failing to find any more of those cookies from this morning. The nurses had already gone through their shift change, so any leftovers would have already been inhaled by the night shift.
She got off the elevator on the second floor and walked across the enclosed bridge that connected the hospital to the covered parking garage. Her assigned spot was near the entry—a perk she’d earned for being voted Resident of the Year by fellow staff.
London’s steps slowed as she reached her parking spot. Drew was standing next to her Mini.
Correction: He was leaning on her Mini. One hand was casually stuffed in his pants pocket—the other occupied by the cell phone he was currently scrolling through.
London hit the panic button on the key fob and took no small amount of pleasure from the way he jumped at the shrieking alarm. She quickly hit the off button before hospital security rushed over to see what was going on.
“Get away from my car,” she said as she walked up to him.
“Can I please have five minutes to apologize?”
“Oh, so you agree that the bullshit you fed me in my office this morning wasn’t a real apology?”
“At the risk of pissing you off even more, don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic about this?” He held up his hands. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you how you should feel. If this is a big deal to you, then fine, it’s a big deal. But what happened this weekend shouldn’t have an impact on the work we have to do here at the hospital. One is personal, the other is professional.”
London closed the distance between them, getting right in his face.
“Don’t lecture me on how to keep my personal and professional lives separate, Drew Sullivan. It’s a skill I’ve been forced to use more times than you will ever have to. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I wasn’t able to block out some of the shit I see here.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to make comparisons. I can’t imagine how hard your job must be. But that’s why we need to work together if we’re going to help make things better here at County.”
He slipped his hands in his pockets, his relaxed pose like something out of an ad campaign for a top-of-the-line suit designer. He’d removed his tie at some point during the day and unbuttoned the top two buttons on the light blue shirt.
Her eyes zeroed in on the tantalizing indentation at the base of his throat. Her mouth now had intimate knowledge of that sexy dip.
She tore her gaze away.
Stay focused.
“Here’s what I think we should do—” Drew said.
She cut him off. “I just love how you keep using the word we so casually.”
“I used we because I need us to be on the same team. After only a few hours I recognize how well respected you are around here. I visited various departments today, trying to gain insight into how County’s personnel regards the hospital overall. Whenever I asked what people found most favorable, your name came up. If Trident is going to be successful in completing the task we’ve been handed, we’re going to need allies like you, London.”
“Ally?” She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. “Did you miss the part when I said that I am against what the administration is doing at the hospital?”
“Did you miss the part about how Trident is here to possibly prevent the hospital from being sold?”
“Possibly,” she said. “Which means it possibly could still happen.”
“Better than definitely,” he countered.
London bit her bottom lip.
He had a point. Coleman said that half the hospital’s board was ready to put up a FOR SALE sign. London and her colleagues had been trying to read the tea leaves for months, but it was clear now. Drew’s company could very well be the only thing standing between County remaining a public hospital or being taken over by some profit-hungry conglomerate.
She would be such a fool to trust him after the way he’d kept her in the dark about the real reason he was back in Austin, but could she trust the hospital’s top brass?
“If I felt the inclination to help you—which I still haven’t decided yet,” London stressed. “What would it take to change that possibly into a definitely—as it pertains to preventing a sale?”
“There are no guarantees, London. You know that.”
She threw up her hands. “Then why should I help you at all? Why should I use my hard-earned capital with the staff to make your job easier when there’s still a chance the hospital will be sold to the highest bidder once you’re done?”
“Because—”
“Because nothing,” she said. “Everyone will think I sold them out.” She shook her head. “Sorry, Drew, but I can’t do that.”
He dropped his head back and groaned. “You are stubborn as hell. Always have been.”
“Oh, that will certainly help your case,” she deadpanned. “Please, pay me more compliments.”
“Shit,” he cursed.
“I can’t believe you thought I would just go along with this, especially after your lack of transparency this weekend,” London said. She tipped her head to the side as a thought occurred to her. “Is that what Saturday night was about? Was that your way of softening me up? You thought after spending the night in your bed that I’d be more agreeable when I walked into the conference room and found you sitting next to Coleman?”
He took a step toward her. “Are you forgetting whose idea Saturday night was? Or Sunday afternoon? It was yours, London. Both times.” His voice dropped in volume, the tone huskier. Sexier. “I didn’t have an agenda to get you into my bed because you invited yourself there, not the other way around.”
“Who’s bringing up the personal now?” London asked.
She stared him directly in the face, refusing to back down despite the urge to close her eyes and relive just a few of those sublime moments from this weekend.
He was so close she could feel his heat, smell the subtle spicy scent of his cologne.
“This audit is happening, whether you’re for it or not,” he said, his voice unyielding. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.”
Her eyes landed once again on that sexy dip in his throat, just below his Adam’s apple. This time she couldn’t escape the memories of the way her tongue had explored that spot this weekend.
“Screw you, Drew Sullivan,” London said, the words catching as they skirted past the lump of desire clogging her throat.
“London, please. This is—”
“No, really,” she said, slipping her phone from her pocket. She clicked into the folder of travel apps and, in less than a minute, had a room booked. “I quite literally mean screw you—as in I want to screw you.” She held the phone up to him so he could see the reservation. “There’s a Hampton Inn two blocks away. Meet me there.”
9
London sat on the edge of the bed, her back to Drew. She could feel his eyes on her as she threaded her arms through her bra straps and hooked the eyelets behind her.
The hotel room’s air-conditioning unit kicked on, but London couldn’t give it credit for the goose bumps that pebbled along her skin. Those were 100 percent courtesy of the man lounging in the middle of the king-size bed.
She stopped herself from glancing back at him because she just knew she would find an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk on his face. Not that he hadn’t earned the right to be conceited when it came to the particular set of skills he’d displayed in the past hour.
“Is this going to be an ongoing occurrence, or was this yet another onetime thing?” Drew asked.
London lifted her panties from the nightstand and stepped into them. She stood, pulling them up her legs.
“London?”
Finally, she turned. There wasn’t as much conceit as she’d expected, just that normal air of self-assuredness that clung to him at all times.
“London?” he said again.
“What?” she asked with an exasperated sigh.
He arched a brow. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“I don’t know, Drew.”
“You don’t know if you’re going to answer the question, or you don’t know if you’re going to offer me a standing invitation to meet you at the Hampton Inn on Monday afternoons?”
The air conditioner clicked off and, despite the persistent goose bumps that remained on her arms, London walked over to the thermostat to lower it. She pushed her fingers through her naturally coily hair, scraping her nails along her scalp.
“Give me a minute to think about this,” she said.
“What’s there to think about?”
She didn’t answer him, opting instead to walk over to the minifridge and help herself to a bottle of water. Resting her butt against the desk, she gulped down half of it, peering directly into Drew’s dark brown eyes as she did so. Her eyes lowered, skimming over the smooth, chiseled planes of his chest and torso.
Didn’t this bastard spend most of his day behind a desk? How could he be so cut?
The bedsheet stopped just below the sexy indentions at his waist, where the inguinal ligament and transversus abdominis met.
For goodness’ sake, girl, this isn’t Anatomy 101.
“How long do you plan to be in Austin?” London asked abruptly.
“Until Trident’s work at County is completed.”
She took another gulp of water. “And once you’re done, you go back to New York?”
“It is where I live.”
She studied him, taking in the rudimentary Greek letter branded into his chest, just above his left nipple. The omega symbol. The mark of the fraternity he belonged to. Her dad was also a member, but she wouldn’t hold that against Drew.
“I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” She paused for a moment, then shook her head. “But you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, Drew Sullivan.”
“It took you long enough to figure that out. I’ve known since high school.”
There was nothing she wanted more in this world at the moment than to knock that cocky grin off his face.
“You are such an asshole,” London said. “However, you’re also the perfect hookup partner.” She ticked items off on her fingers. “You’re temporary, you sling dick like you’ve taken a master class on it, and there’s not a chance in hell of me ever falling for you.”
London couldn’t be sure if the light in his eyes had actually dimmed a fraction, or if the change was due to his movement as he pushed himself up so that his back was against the headboard. His adjustment caused the sheet to fall even lower, barely covering his lap. She had to clutch the edge of the desk to stop herself from going to him. She wanted to crawl up the bed and plant herself on that lap.
“Why, London,” he said in a droll voice, “how could I ever turn down such a romantic proposal?”
“Do I come across as the romantic type?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he folded his arms behind his head, and asked, “Why me?”
“I thought I just went over that,” she said. “Believe it or not, you’re literally what the doctor ordered, Drew.” His brow arched in inquiry, so London decided to explain. “My job—my life in general—has been overly demanding lately. My mentor at the hospital, Dr. Doug Renault, suggested I find ways to decrease my stress. My two best friends, Samiah and Taylor, believe casually hooking up is the perfect way to accomplish this. I wasn’t entirely sure they were right, but based on how relaxed I’ve been since Saturday night, I have to say that sex with you has done amazing things for my stress level. Much better than crocheting.”
He barked out a laugh. “That’s one I haven’t heard before, but I’ll take it.”
“You don’t have to look so smug,” London said.
“I’m not smug, I just have a high level of confidence in my ability to handle this job. Drew Sullivan, stress reliever. At your service, Dr. Kelley.”
She dropped her head back and sighed up at the ceiling. “I’m going to regret this.”
“I promise you won’t.”
His voice had dropped an octave, the deep, rich timbre adding to those goose bumps on her arms and thighs.
“If we’re going to do this, we can just go over to my place,” he said. “The apartment I’m renting is about the same distance from the hospital, and the bed is a lot more comfortable.”
“Really?” London asked. “I was just thinking that I need to check what brand this mattress is. It’s better than what I have at home.”
“You sure you aren’t just projecting your feelings for me toward this mattress?”
She cut her eyes at him, and he laughed.
“Joking,” he said. “So, how is this going to work?” He held up a hand. “The better question is, how stressed are you? Do you require daily attention? Today does make three days in a row that you’ve had a dose of Drew.”
“And just like that, I’ve changed my mind.”
“That was a joke! Riling you up used to be my favorite pastime when we were in school. It’s hard to turn it off.”
“See, I knew it. Irritating me was like some weird hobby for you.”
“I would have lettered in trying to get a rise out of you if they’d offered it as a sport back at Barbara Jordan High. I promise to do better,” he said. He patted the bed. “Come on. Let’s hammer out the details.”
As if she was getting anywhere near him while he was still naked and she was in only her underwear.
Why was she still wearing only her underwear?
She reached over and snagged his shirt from where he’d folded it across the back of the room’s lone chair. The soft material felt heavenly against her skin. London pulled the two sides across her chest and sat in the chair.
