Special Delivery (8 page)

It felt good to finally have my life on track again.

The doorbell woke me from the most amazing dream. I was in the south of France soaking up the sun, drinking a glass of chilled champagne with a handsome young gentleman. Not anymore. I glanced at the clock. Shit. It was a quarter to seven and I had overslept. And who the hell was at the door at this hour?

Grabbing my robe, I quickly made my way to the front door. I peered through the window and saw Frederick standing there. He gave me a small wave.

Frederick
! How could I have forgotten my new housekeeper/cook/errand boy was starting today? I glanced in the mirror by the front door. My hair looked like a tangled mess and my eyes were bloodshot. I quickly smoothed down by hair as best as I could and opened the door.

“Good morning, Ms. Hope.”

“Hey, I was just getting ready. Come on in.”

He stood awkwardly in the foyer eyeing me in my bathrobe. I cinched the belt tighter around me.

“Why don’t you wait in the kitchen while I finish dressing? Be with you in a few minutes.” I pointed the way to the kitchen.

I jumped in the shower and washed only the important parts. Then I swiped on some lotion and deodorant, brushed my hair, and pulled it back into a ponytail. I added some mascara and lip gloss and called it good. I slipped on my favorite Escada pencil skirt and paired it with a Calvin Klein white lacy button down. I looked in the mirror and thought I looked good for getting ready in less than thirty minutes.

Something smelled good. I followed the aroma into the kitchen. I had no idea what it could be since I had slim pickings in the refrigerator. The breakfast room table was set with a plate covered in scrambled eggs, bacon and a piece of whole wheat English muffin. A glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and a cup of steaming hot coffee sat beside it.

“I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of buying a few groceries on my way to work this morning and cooked you a nice breakfast.”

“Thank you Frederick. I’ll be glad to reimburse you for the groceries. It smells delicious.” All I could think was I had hit a homerun with this guy. While I was eating, I went over the basics for Frederick. Alarm code. Grocery and errand list. Schedule for the next month.

“Any special meals that you’d like? Dietary restrictions? I could cook up a few meals and freeze them for you.”

“Sure. Anything you’d like to make is fine.” I thought about the pasta carbanora he had made. “Nothing too heavy though.”

“Okay. You go. I’ll get everything done for you.”

I handed him some cash and left my house in hopefully good hands.

I pulled into the parking lot and there was a shiny, blue Mustang in my parking space. Who the hell parked in my spot? I was usually the first one to work in the morning, but after meeting with Frederick, I was running a few minutes later than normal. I spotted Heather’s car – a green Honda – parked in her regular spot.

Using the back door, which led directly into the staff break room, I smelled fresh coffee brewing and the sweetness of muffins. Brad had his back turned to me and was drinking coffee and talking to Heather. They were laughing about something. I slammed the door behind me.

“Well, good morning, Hope,” Brad greeted me as he put his coffee cup down.

Heather smiled sheepishly at me. “Good morning.”

I guess I knew who parked in my spot.

“Good morning,” I said as I put my briefcase down.

“Here, let me get you a cup of coffee.” Brad grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured me a cup. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. He wore dark blue trousers with a red-striped button down shirt and a red silk tie. I could make out his chiseled biceps through his shirt, and when he turned around to pour my coffee, I checked out his backside. Also nice. I also caught a whiff of his cologne. A subtle, fresh smell that was heaven to my nostrils.

I looked up in time to see Heather noticing me checking him out. She smirked and walked out of the room.

“Cream, sugar?” Brad turned around to face me.

“Um, no. Black.” I took the steaming cup of coffee from him. “Thanks.”

“Everything okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

He took a sip and smiled. “You just look a little flushed.”

Oh God. Now I’m really embarrassed. I try to compose myself and try to remember why I was so upset with him to begin with. Oh yeah, that’s right. His Mustang that was parked in my spot. But I decide to let it slide today. We have more important things to discuss.

“We got your office ready,” I started to tell him.

“Yes, I know. Thank you. Heather told me.”

“Well, okay. Let’s go to my office and discuss your schedule.”

We sat down at the conference table and I went over the employment contract that my father had our attorney draw up. I watched as he picked up the pen and hovered over the signature line.

Brad looked up at me and put the pen down. “Are you sure about this?”

His words stunned me for a second.

“Sure about what?” I stammered.

“I noticed some hesitancy on your part at our first meeting with your father. I know that he wants this partnership to work. I’m not so sure about you. Do you want me here?” His gorgeous blue eyes stared into mine.

My hands shook as I picked up my mug and took a sip of coffee. Why does this man have this effect on me? I’m always cool and collected. But Brad ruffles my feathers. Why?

I put down the mug and looked at him directly in the eyes. “My father thinks highly of you and he is obviously impressed by your….”

“What do
you
think?” Brad interrupted me.

I didn’t want Brad to know that my own father went behind my back and hired him without first discussing it with me. At the same time, I wanted to let Brad know that I wasn’t too thrilled at having him here.

“From what my father has told me, I think you’re very qualified to work with us. I’m just not sure how you’ll fit into this practice.”

Brad looked confused. “What do you mean? Your father was pretty clear that you wanted to expand the practice to include in-house fertility treatments. That is my area of expertise. I thought that was the reason I was here.”

“Sure, I want to expand our practice. I just don’t think it is the right time. The economy is in the toilet and expanding the practice would be a huge expense.” I leaned back in my chair. “The employment contract is good for one year. I think it’s enough time to evaluate whether this will work or not.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Are you on board with having me?”

I shrugged. “My dad likes you. So, I’m happy to have you as a member of this team.” God, why is this so hard for me?

He seemed satisfied with my answer and picked up the pen again to sign the contract. “I just want to be sure, Hope. I want to be here. This is a terrific opportunity and I need to be sure you’re okay with this.”

I glanced down at the contract and saw that my father had already signed. The only signature that was needed was mine.

Brad handed me the pen. I showed him that I meant business and quickly signed my name with flourish. “I’ll get a copy to you later today,” I said as I put the contract back in the folder.

We spent a half hour going over the schedule and patient files. Heather knocked on the door and stuck her head in.

“This morning’s patients are here and ready to go.”

“Okay, Brad. Here we go.”

The morning went by quickly and my irritation at Brad taking my parking space quickly vanished. The staff and the patients really took to him, although I was still apprehensive. My dad spent many years building this practice and I didn’t want to see it fail because of Brad.

Heather handed me a message. “Aubrey called to remind you about your speech for the fashion show.”

I looked at the message. “What show?”

“The fashion show. To benefit breast cancer awareness?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I remembered my talk with Aubrey at the coffee shop.

“She wants you to call her back to go over some stuff.”

Brad overheard the conversation. “A benefit for breast cancer awareness? That’s great.”

“Aubrey is a patient and a family friend. Her aunt had passed away a few years go with breast cancer. She asked me to do a speech at the fashion show.”

“Would you like to go to lunch?” I asked Brad.

“Sure.”

“We have a couple hours before the afternoon patients.”

“I’ll drive,” Brad said as we walked to the parking lot. “I need to learn my way around.”

He opened the door to his shiny blue Mustang. I noticed the interior still had that new car smell as I slid into the leather seat. My skirt rode up to my upper thigh and I caught Brad sneaking a peek as he closed the door.

“Where to?” Brad started up the engine with a powerful roar.

“Let’s go to Marcello’s. It’s a small Italian joint near the office.”

On the drive to the restaurant Brad told me a little bit about himself.

“I grew up in a typical middle class neighborhood in New Orleans. My dad was an architect and my mom taught art at a private school. I always wanted to be a doctor, but wasn’t sure what specialty until later.”

“When did you decide that?”

“I’m an only child, and my mom confided in me when I was older, a teenager, that she had wanted another child. They tried for several years and she never got pregnant again, although they spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatments. I decided then to go into obstetrics and gynecology with a specialty in fertility. I wanted to help couples who have a hard time conceiving.”

It surprised me that Brad had such a soft side.

“After med school, I went to UAB because they were starting a new fertility research center. I wanted to learn from the best,” he continued.

We got to Marcello’s and the owner greeted us in the lobby.

“Hope, very nice to see you,” Marcello said as we walked in.

I gave Marcello a kiss and introduced him to Brad. Marcello was an old family friend. He raised his bushy, thick dark eyebrows at me.

“Table for two? In the corner, where it is quiet?”

Marcello had never seen me here with a man other than my dad. I think he got a little excited I was having lunch with someone so good looking. It wouldn’t be long until I got a call from my mom, I’m sure.

“Sounds good Marcello.”

The restaurant was quiet and dark with typical Italian décor. Exposed brick walls, small tables covered with simple, pressed white linen tablecloths, adorned with empty Chianti wine bottles that doubled as candle holders.

“We have very nice special today,” Marcello said delivering the menu to us. “Clam linguine with a lemon butter sauce.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll have that with an iced tea.”

Brad scanned the menu and handed it back. “I’ll go with the same, Marcello. Thank you.”

“Very well. I’ll be back with your drinks and house salad.” Marcello winked at me as he walked away.