Читать книгу Doctor For Keeps - KRISTI GOLD - Страница 10

This isn’t isn’t over, Randi….

“Miranda, I’m not through yet.”

Miranda’s glance shot up from her empty mug, her face hot with embarrassment. She had tried hard to focus on the clinic office manager’s break-room dissertation, but to no avail.

The woman had been giving her the particulars of the job for the past few minutes while Miranda’s thoughts drifted off like spring dandelions. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but memories of the night before and the incredible passion with Rick—a man whose last name she didn’t know. Her mind was a muddled mess, but her body still hummed like a live wire when she thought about his touch. She couldn’t forget what had happened, or his parting words. She also found herself wondering if maybe she would see him again. Maybe he would understand and accept her the way she was, flawed beyond repair.

Miranda couldn’t think about that now. She had to get this over with and get on with her day. “I’m very sorry, Mary Jo. Guess I could use some more coffee. I was up late. Just all the excitement.” Excitement that had nothing to do with the new job.

“Yes, maybe you should have some more coffee. Shall I continue now?”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

Mary Jo clasped her hands before her atop the break-room table in typical schoolmarm fashion, her face as stiff as her white blouse, knee-length navy polyester skirt and neatly coifed silver hair. “As I was saying, there have been a few changes in what we originally planned for you.”

“Fine. Whatever you need me to do.”

“Your duties will be the same, but you’ll be working primarily with Dr. Jansen instead of Dr. Bridgestone.”

Miranda searched her brain, what was left of it. “I haven’t met Dr. Jansen, have I?”

“No. Out of the six, he’s the only one you haven’t met. You interviewed on a Friday, and he doesn’t work on Fridays.”

Miranda ran a shaky hand down her pink teddy-bear smock and centered her gaze on Mary Jo. “So tell me about this Dr. Jansen.”

“What would you like to know?”

One look at Mary Jo’s guarded expression and Miranda’s concern kicked in. “First of all, what’s wrong with him?”

The woman’s all-business demeanor disappeared and bright red streaked down the sides of her neck. “Nothing. He’s just a bit…”

Miranda leaned forward in the plastic chair. “Difficult?”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

Oh, Lord, now she knew why they had been so eager to hire her. No one else could work with the man. “How difficult?”

“He’s a perfectionist, but I’ve been told most plastic surgeons are rather meticulous. Just the nature of the beast.”