Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You were only out for a second. You need to sit up.”
He’s definitely not Prince Charming, because he doesn’t even offer me a hand. I push myself up to a sitting position and reality hits me like a sledgehammer. My skirt is practically up around my ears. Great. I really hope this is Dr. Newman, come in to check on the palm plant, and not the new boss I’m trying to impress. Not only have I fallen on my head, I’ve also just shown Dr. Perfect Mouth my knickers. “I’m fine,” I say.
“What were you doing up there?”
“Cleaning the windows. They were a bit grubby.” I squint and try and figure out which part of my head is hurting.
He frowns. “Don’t do it again. We have a cleaning service that does a lot of buildings around here. Get the number from Jen.”
You’re welcome, I don’t say.
I scramble to my feet and he steps back as if he’s expecting me to lunge at him. I’ve spent the last ten years in a relationship. If I’m ever ready to get back into dating, I probably will lunge inappropriately at men who I’ve just met—especially men as hot as this guy—but today’s not that day. This is a guy I’m trying to impress. Not kiss. I think.
“You’re Dr. Cove?” We’re both assuming we know who each other is, but a formal introduction isn’t a wild idea. “I’m Ellie.”
“I bought you a laptop.” He nods at a cellophaned box on my desk and I try and focus on what he’s saying, rather than the scrape of stubble over his jaw. Once, after an argument with Shane, I spent an entire afternoon in a Google rabbit hole researching men’s jaws. Apparently, a man’s attractiveness has got a lot to do with his jaw. And what makes an attractive jaw is all in the length of the ramus and gonial angle. Dr. Cove has the longest ramus and most acute gonial angle I’ve ever seen—he’s a walking textbook that proves the theory because he’s gorgeous. So gorgeous that when he speaks, it’s kind of annoying, because I just want to stare at his face. “Let’s use Google calendars for appointments at the moment.”
I swallow and look away, like his jaw is no big deal. “Okay.”
I want to ask him if I should go to hospital, given that about nine seconds ago I was unconscious. Can I safely assume that because he’s a doctor, he would say if I was in danger? How much do gastroenterologists know about head injuries?
“Oh, and don’t go wandering off without telling me. I’ll need to keep an eye on you for a few hours to make sure you’re not concussed.”
Before I have a chance to respond, he goes through the door in the partition wall and shuts it behind him.
Was that it? No setting out expectations for the role or even telling me what the week is likely to look like? I was so hypnotized by his jaw, I forgot to ask the most basic questions. I don’t even know when the next patient is in.
Pulling my shoulders back, I shift my mindset. Willing myself to ignore Dr. Cove’s looks and the fact that he’s recently seen my knickers, and march across the room and knock on the door.
“Come in,” he snaps.
The room is more barren than the waiting room with just a desk and a chair in front of an obscured Georgian window to the side and then an examination table, sink, and a couple of cupboards. He doesn’t even have a palm plant.
“Could you tell me when you’re expecting your next patient?” I ask, focusing on his eyes because they’re not his hypnotizing jaw, but I’m caught off guard because his eyes are all blue, brooding intensity. Damn him and his gorgeousness. “Maybe we could have a sit-down to go through a few things?”
A tinny shriek echoes from his phone and I realize he’s holding it in his hand. I’ve interrupted a call. I ball my hands into fists. I need to be killing it at this job—my entire future depends on it—and it’s not going well.
“No patients booked in and I’ll come out in due course. We can go through any questions.”
I nod and back out of his office.
I need to regroup and get a strategy together for how to interact like a capable, proactive assistant, given I have a gorgeous boss with a snappish attitude.
Maybe he wouldn’t mind wearing a paper bag over his head while I’m talking to him.
Two
Zach
Something is off.
Even ignoring the fact that my only employee fell over and knocked herself out on her first day on the job, something’s not right. Maybe it’s just too quiet and I’m not used to it. An office on Wimpole Street is very different to a London hospital.