The Recruiting Trip (The University of Gatica #1) (11 page)

Trying to balance her groceries and case of water in one hand, Charity slipped the key into her apartment door with the other. She had met the moving company earlier. It hadn’t taken long to unpack, and all that was left were five clothing suitcases in her bedroom. She then ran out to grab food for dinner and breakfast in the morning.

She kicked the door shut with her foot and glanced around. It was a studio apartment with a double sized living room, which opened to a modern kitchen. Light grey stained wood covered the floors and the two rooms were painted a soft white.

Very bright. And very empty.

That had been done on purpose. A leather antique psychologist couch was set against the far wall, mirrors covered another wall, and a high tech stereo system took up most of the space on the last wall. The only remaining wall had windows and a door to a simple balcony.

Charity slipped off her shoes and padded on bare feet to the kitchen. She set the case of water down on the breakfast bar and quickly put away the groceries. Before putting the water under the table, she grabbed the remote beside the case and turned the stereo on. The tall speakers came to life and Charity reached for a bottle from the case. As she strolled to her bedroom, her fingers tapped the music’s beat against the plastic water container. By the time she reached her room, she was full-out dancing.

She changed into tights and a sport top, then headed back to the living room. She had been dancing since she was six. Her mom had encouraged her to try every form of dance and she loved them all. Somehow, all the different types of dancing had rolled into her own artistic interpretation and she was phenomenal at it, but very few people knew. It came in handy during the galas and dinners if someone asked her to dance and she could surprise guests. 

Dancing was her workout, her stress reducer, her fun time and her down time.

An hour and a shower later, she started cooking dinner. Munching on a carrot, the little red light flashing on the phone caught her attention. She flipped her screen on and saw several emails from Amanda with attachments, an email confirming the paint and furniture for her office would be delivered in the morning, and her father had called about ten minutes prior.

He hadn’t left a message so she pressed the button to call him, putting him on speaker so she could continue cutting vegetables.

“Dr. Thompson.”

“Dad, it’s me.” Charity tried not to roll her eyes. He had caller ID so he knew it was her.

“Charity. How can I help you?”

She shook her head. “You phoned me earlier and tried again a bit ago. I was in the shower and just saw the missed call. I assume you wanted to talk to me.” No ‘how are you doing?’ or ‘how’s Atlanta?’.

“Oh yes. I did. I was going to have my secretary call but I knew you’d say no if she asked.”

Charity set the knife down. She didn’t want to stab her phone. “Nice, Dad. I really appreciate you starting a phone conversation on the negative. Why don’t you just ask me what you need and I’ll let you know what I think?”

“Fine. I’m turning sixty-five next year.” He paused.

“I know.” A strange thought crossed her mind. She never assumed he would, but what if… “Are you retiring?”

“Hell no! I’m more than competent as a doctor, probably still better than most of the doctors I know.”

No lie there. He was one of the best doctors in the country, even had a hospital named after him. “I didn’t think you would, but why the phone call just over six months before your birthday?”

“The hospital wants to make a big deal with it. I guess they need to. I said I would take care of it since I don’t want it to be about me. I want the focus on something else.”

She had no idea where he was going with this.

“I was wondering…” He swallowed and a quick sigh echoed through the phone. “We’d like to hire you to do the party.”

She blinked in surprise. He hated her job and always made sure she knew how disappointed he was that she’d dropped out of med school. “I’m not a party planner.”

“You don’t organize parties and plan big events?”

Good point. “I do but they are for hospitals wings, additions, equipment. The galas are to raise money for non-profit issues hospitals need.” Not some retirement party where the birthday dude wasn’t even retiring.

“Exactly. That’s what I—what we want to hire your for. To make money for some new equipment at the hospital. My milestone age marker is just the excuse to do it.”

Charity tapped her fingers against her lip as she thought. It was actually a very good idea. Everyone knew and liked her father. He never made a fuss about himself publicly so a lot of doctors from all over the country would fly in for the night. Plus the countless patients whose lives he had saved. It was a great idea.

So why her?

“I’ve just signed a two year contract down here in Atlanta. I can’t drop everything for them for six months and help you. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I’m not expecting anything spectacular. It’s fine. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Giving up that easy? That wasn’t her father. That competitive side of her kicked in. He didn’t think she could do spectacular? Boy was he in for a surprise. “How much money are you hoping to raise?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How much?”

“A hundred thousand would cover half the price of the equipment in the emergency room.”

“Your gala could easily raise quadruple that.”

He scoffed. “Really?”

“Easy.” She thought about going back home. Did she want to? Part of her did. The kid in her wanted to prove to her father that she was good at her job. That she deserved to be patted on the head and told she’d done a good job. That her career change hadn’t been a bad choice. “Look. If you can handle working on the weekends for this, I can do it. The flight to NY from Atlanta is direct. It’s only a one night gala. I can work online from here and fly up twice a month or whatever to get it set there.” Six months wasn’t that long.

“You’ll do it?” The surprise in his voice made her smile.

“Sure. I’ll have to come up this weekend to find a location. It’s going to be a time crunch, but it’ll work.”

“Perfect.” Scribbling of a pen made its way through the phone. “I need to go. Duty calls.”

“Life of a doctor. I’ll meet you at the hospital Friday afternoon sometime. I’ll email you my flight details.”

“I can send someone to pick you up.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be easier if I rent a car.”

“Sounds good.” He paused. “And thanks, Charity.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stared at the phone after her father hung up. What had she just gotten herself into?

Once off the plane Charity waited for her bags and then picked up her rental car. The mid-size car she hired wasn’t available so the young teller bumped her up to a Mustang. Blue. Sapphire blue. She laughed out loud in the parking lot when she tossed her suitcase and bag in the trunk. The weekend might actually turn out to be fun.

The week itself had been busy. She’d painted the office, had it decorated, went through the email list, and set up a luncheon with Malcolm for Monday. They needed to go over a few plans and she also needed to meet with the board next week. Juggling the two jobs would be interesting.

She drove straight to the hospital and parked in the visitor parking section. The newly designed hospital almost looked inviting. They had torn down the older hospital two blocks away months ago. The grey outer walls had loads of windows and sections of it spread like rays of sun around the nucleus.

The warm heated air brushed the cold autumn air away as she stepped though the sliding doors. She headed for the elevator but slipped into a restroom just before. She washed her hands and looked in the mirror. Her ponytail had slipped down so she grabbed two chunks of hair to tighten it. The pony band snapped and shot off like an elastic.

“Crap!” Charity searched through her purse for another one but found nothing. She ran her fingers through her hair and tucked a few strands behind an ear. It would have to do. Except now she needed to touch up her makeup. Little makeup worked with a ponytail but not with her hair down. She grabbed a lip gloss and added eyeliner and mascara. She stepped back. Dark jeans and white button up would have to do.

She squared her shoulders and exhaled a long breath. “Please give me patience and don’t piss Dad off,” she mumbled before leaving the bathroom. She hit the elevator button and the far door slid open.
Perfect timing
.

An older couple walked off together and she smiled at them before stepping into the lift. Leaning against the wall, a tall glass of hot water stood in medical scrubs. Short, dark, slightly mussed brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a sexy five o’clock shadow held Charity’s gaze a moment longer than what was considered polite. She quickly turned and pressed the sixth floor button. It was already lit up. Hot muscle guy had to get off on the same floor.

She closed her eyes and silently sighed. She should have looked at his badge instead of his face. The thought of his chest made her wonder what he might look like with his shirt off. She forced herself to open her eyes and stare straight ahead.
You’re being ridiculous. Cute guy and you act like a thirteen-year-old boy-crazy kid.

She turned around and smiled, willing her eyes to stay on his face, not cruise down and then back up. “Are you a doctor here?”

“I am.” The stranger smiled but offered no more information.

Sexy smile
. She tried again. “Is your office on the sixth floor?”

“It is.”

Did she detect an accent? Her eyebrows furrowed together. Had they met before? She would have definitely remembered. She glanced down at his hospital tag just as the elevator came to a stop.
Dr. Bennet.
The door slid open so she turned to step out. She stopped short when she realized she didn’t know where to go.

Dr. Bennet walked right into her and grabbed her elbow so she wouldn’t fall.

“I’m so sorry. Are you a’right?”

Definitely an Australian accent, or something by there. “It’s my fault.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure where Dr. Thompson’s office is. Last time I was here they were still finishing this floor.”

Two young nurses walked by. One winked at the doctor. “Hi, Elijah.” The other nurse elbowed her. “Oops. Hello, Doctor Bennet.” The two disappeared into the nurse’s room.

Elijah? Charity remembered her dad’s phone call when she’d spoken to him. “I’m Charity.” She held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Thompson’s daughter. We spoke earlier this week on the phone.”

Elijah reached for her hand. His warm, strong fingers enclosed around hers and he smiled at her again. “I remember. You’re much more beautiful in person.”

No wonder the nurses were so friendly. He was a lady’s man.

“I can take you to your dad. I was just about to see him myself.”

“That’d be great.” If he was a flirt, she could flirt, too. “Lead the way.”

He pulled his phone out of his chest pocket and checked his messages. “I just need to call downstairs to see if my x-rays are done.” He headed past the nurses’ station and down the hall.

Charity followed and admired his lean muscular shoulders that dipped into a firm derriere that looked fantastic in hospital pants. She felt her cheeks grow warm.
There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a fit body. Get over it, girl.

“…Thanks. Have someone send them up to the sixth floor review room. I need them quick.” Elijah tucked his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry about that. So, how long are you in town to see your dad?”

“Just the weekend. He wants a fancy to-do for his sixty-fifth. He’s asked me to plan it.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it amazing.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “I have to admit, I Googled you after we spoke on the phone. You’re quite the successful donor-fundraiser… party planner… thing.” He shrugged and made a confused face. “I don’t know what your official title is.”

“Neither does my father,” she teased, “but at least he knows what I do or he wouldn’t have called.” She noticed the wing they’d been walking down now had expensive wooden doors. The first office had her dad’s name on the plaque, and across the hall was Elijah’s name. “You must be pretty special to have an office right here.”
By my dad
is what she wanted to say but held back. Her opinion of her father was not shared with fellow doctors. He was
the
man. The Dr. Scott Thompson. Lifesaver super-hero.

“The chief gets the next best office.” Elijah dropped his head a bit and grinned like a little boy. “Sorry, just trying to impress you.”

Charity blinked, surprised at his honesty. “I’m impressed. A little.” She pretended to shrug. “You’re pretty young to be chief. I’d ask who you had to sleep with to get the job, but since my dad’s in charge, I don’t really want to know.”

Elijah’s head tilted back and he burst out laughing.

The door to her father’s office swung open, probably from the sound in the hallway. “Charity!”