[Love in New York 01.0] Lost and Found by Elle Casey

Author:Elle Casey [Casey, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1939455510
Amazon: B00R6K0JM6
Publisher: Elle Casey
Published: 2014-12-25T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-Three

IT’S MONDAY AND I HAVE a headache that will not quit. Eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen aren’t touching it, and I have a surgery that starts in two hours. I have my head down on my desk when the intercom goes on and Veronica’s voice comes over it.

“James, there’s a woman at the front door.”

I wait for more, but apparently that’s it.

“So? What do you want me to do about it?” I’m not in the mood to be polite. It doesn’t help that Veronica’s been bitchy all morning and came back late from lunch. I’m being punished for something she’s imagined I’ve done that’s completely none of her fucking business.

“She says she wants to see you, but I don’t recognize her. She looks like a gypsy or something.”

My heart stops beating. “A gypsy?” I barely get the words out. Flashes of the woman who called me Helen come to mind. But what would she be doing here? It can’t be her.

“Yeah. She looks crazy. Should I call security?”

I jump up from my desk and practically run through the door to Veronica’s desk. The surveillance camera is picking up a figure at our main doors and displaying it on a small screen on my secretary’s computer monitor.

“Son of a bitch,” I mumble to myself. It is that Leah Betty person! How in the hell…? Is she stalking me? But why would she be? It’s not like we’ve even exchanged a single pleasant word with one another. Maybe after seeing me in the hospital she wants to consult with me as a physician. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

“Who is she?” Veronica asks.

I panic. The lie bubbles up and flies out of my mouth. “I have no idea. Send her away.” Seeing her as a patient just feels wrong. I know instinctively that I can’t do it. Nothing good will come of me seeing that woman’s breasts in a professional environment. I’ll lose my license with the things I’ll be wanting to do with them.

Veronica presses the intercom button that communicates with a box outside our main doors. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make an appointment if you want to come in.”

My eyes are riveted to the monitor. The woman stands there with her arms hanging at her sides, her mouth open. I can see she’s offended, and it makes me smile. My panic subsides in the face of her expression. It’s not that I’m happy about being rude, but she’s kind of cute when she’s mad. It’s that hair of hers, flying out all over the place …

“Okay, I’ll make an appointment now,” she says, chin up in the air. “Book me in.”

Veronica snorts in disgust. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that at this time.”

I glance at my secretary, wondering where that tone of voice is coming from. Usually whenever I hear her, she’s practically simpering she’s so polite. I’m not sure I like this new person I’m seeing at my front desk. She reminds me of someone.

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