Dr. Neurotic(2)

Ever since I'd started working for CMI, I'd been stockpiling money away  for the hope of purchasing my own home, but I'd never stayed in one  place long enough to even consider looking for a house. But now, I was  back in my city, and not only would I be enjoying the sights and sounds  and energetic vibe, but I'd also have my eyes wide open for real estate.         

     



 

Fingers and toes and legs crossed I find something sooner rather than  later, because living in a sardine-box-sized apartment in Chinatown is  no easy feat.

"Hey! Watch it, lady!" a cabbie shouted out of his window as I crossed  the street, and then honked his horn twice for good measure.

I startled, nearly dropping my briefcase to the ground, but then, then I smiled.

New York. Good God, she was beautiful.

The lights of Times Square danced and swirled in the late afternoon sun  as I headed toward the subway station on 42nd to catch the Shuttle to  Grand Central. I'd taken a detour, the long route, so to speak, but it  was all in the name of seeing and breathing and just living my city  again.

Hell, twelve years ago, I would've avoided Times Square like the plague.  All of those tourists milling about, crowding the sidewalks, and making  it damn near impossible to get anywhere faster than at a snail's  pace-nauseating.

But not today.

Today, I celebrated. I strolled past Times Square with my earbuds  pumping Taylor Swift's "Welcome to New York" in my ears and a giant,  stupid smile on my face. I'd only been back a week and was still living  out of cardboard boxes inside the small apartment I'd rented in  Chinatown, but I couldn't be happier because New York.

It was the best city in the world.

Most of us were exiles, looking for something we didn't find in our  small town or another city that just couldn't give us what we needed.  Even Paris or London or Los Angeles. No other city compared to the Big  Apple.

It was the city that asked nothing of us, except that we make ourselves brand-new.

No other city demanded that.

Other cities asked us for nothing because they had nothing to give in  return. They wanted you to stay close to Mom and Dad. They made it easy  to have the white picket fence, the minivan, and two point five kids.  But they didn't bring you to life.

New York, though. She didn't negotiate with biological clock-ticking terrorists.

Instead, she demanded to be entertained, and entertained in return. And  you could believe, for a certain time, that New York was going to  recognize you, that New York would reward you, that New York would  confirm what you had suspected all along about yourself-that you were  special.

It was a city attributed with godlike qualities, and for good reason. I  had never felt more blessed and more cursed, alternately, in a single  day than the way I'd felt here.

Chicago, where I'd spent five years of my twenties, was like a warm bathtub.

But, New York, well, she was the ocean.

Black pumps in overdrive, I reached the corner of 42nd and Broadway and  click-clacked my way down the subway stairs until I was safely inside  the Shuttle. And, three trains later, I was standing in front of the  entrance doors of St. Luke's.

I had a neurosurgeon by the name of Dr. Nick Raines to charm, impress,  and sway toward a brand-new, state-of-the-art hospital in Los Angeles.  Sure, it was thousands of miles away from his current home base, but I'd  done my research. The man had only settled down at St. Luke's a few  years ago, but prior to accepting his position as Chief of Neurosurgery,  he had traveled all over the country-starting in good old Californ-I-A.  It wasn't a sure thing, but a history of willingness sure was helpful.

And his track record was unbelievable. The man was an enigma in his  already difficult field. He took the cases no one else wanted to take,  and he still managed to keep his success rate in the ninetieth  percentile. That was practically unheard of when it came to brain  surgeons.

But, even though relocating Dr. Raines to Los Angeles would end in one  hell of a commission bonus, he wasn't my only ace in the hole when it  came to neurosurgeons in New York. I'd learned early on as a headhunter  never to put all of your eggs in one basket. Even though Kennedy Medical  Center was convinced they wanted Dr. Raines as their new Chief of  Neurosurgery, I knew he wasn't the only good fit for them.

I had three more candidates on my list, and one in particular, Dr.  Sylvia Morris, was already looking for a relocation to the West Coast to  be near her family.

Through the entrance doors and onto the elevator, I made my way toward  Dr. Raines's office, located in the Medical Arts Building off the east  wing of the hospital. Before I reached the fourth floor, I turned off my  music, slipped my earbuds out of my ears, and slid my phone into my  purse.

A young, perky redhead of a receptionist sat behind the desk inside of  his waiting room. She smiled jovially as I pushed through the office  doors and walked inside.

"Good afternoon," she greeted. "How can I help you?"

"Hello-" I glanced discreetly at the name tag on her scrub top "-Jenna."  Her smile grew wider. I was in the business of knowing what people  wanted, and everyone wanted to feel like they were someone, not just  some nameless face behind a desk. "My name is Charlotte Hollis," I  explained. "I have a four o'clock meeting scheduled with Dr. Raines."         

     



 

Jenna scrolled through the calendar on her computer. She clicked the  mouse a few times before smiling again in my direction. "Dr. Raines is  running a little behind with a patient, but it should only be about ten  minutes." She hopped up from her seat and gestured me toward the door  beside her desk. "If you'd like to follow me back to his office, you can  wait for him there."

"Sounds good." I nodded and followed her lead.

Jenna led me down the hallway until we reached the large office tucked  away in the back. A big mahogany desk sat in the center, and behind  that, a floor-to-ceiling window. "Just make yourself comfortable," she  instructed and pointed toward the two leather chairs sitting in front of  the desk. "Dr. Raines should be back shortly."

"Thank you, Jenna," I said before she shut the door behind her.

I set my briefcase on the floor beside one of the chairs and walked over toward the window.

The busy streets were filled with yellow cabs. Central Park. Manhattan.

Hot damn. Dr. Raines had one hell of a view. It was so good that I  immediately thought he'd be a fool to leave this city-with this  fantastic fucking office-for a job on the West Coast.

I mean, LA was great, but it wasn't this.

Trust me, I knew well enough. I'd spent most of 2013 in the City of Angels.

The click of the knob caught my attention, and I turned quickly, trying  to look calmly professional from my position behind someone else's desk.  A man dressed in a white medical coat, black slacks, a baby blue  collared shirt and a matching tie strode inside, and I straightened my  spine. He wasn't just any man-he was a tasty treat of striking brown  eyes, five-day-old scruff, and a strong jawline that sculptors would  spend their whole lives trying to recreate.

Basically, if this was Nick Raines, he was sexy as fuck. Most  forty-year-old neurosurgeons looked like they'd been run over a few  times by a van thanks to unforgiving schedules, unreal pressure, and a  stubborn inability to delegate.

But I knew from experience, the pretty ones were sometimes the biggest  assholes, and if I were really lucky, misogynistic to boot. I'd have to  be ready because fuck if Charlotte Hollis was going to let a man run her  down.

"Charlotte Hollis?" he asked, his voice rough with the stress and  weariness I'd found missing from his appearance, but welcoming all the  same. I moved forward from the window and rounded the desk until I  wasn't on his side of the territory anymore.

"I am," I said with a small smile. "You must be Dr. Raines."

Please say yes.

"I am." I couldn't ignore the waves of satisfaction that filled my belly.

Well, hello, Doctor.

He offered a friendly smile and held out his hand.

Obviously, I took it willingly. "It's a pleasure, Dr. Raines," I said.  "I hope you'll excuse me for shamelessly enjoying your view."

I honestly wasn't sure if I was talking about the window or him. Probably both.

"No apology necessary." He waved me off with a nonchalant hand.  "Considering I spend most of my time either in the OR or in patient exam  rooms, I'm thankful at least someone is able to enjoy it."

I grinned. A neurosurgeon who wasn't overtly possessive of his property and ideals? Maybe unicorns do exist. "That's a shame."

"I know, right?" he teased and shrugged out of his white medical jacket.  "If someone would go scatter some brains out there, they might let me  look every once in a while."

I barked a laugh, and he winced. "I guess that's a little gory, huh?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Funny, though."

Visible lines of lean and toned muscles strained and stretched beneath his baby blue dress shirt.