One
I stood up straight when I heard the elevator ping. It was eight o’clock sharp. It had to be him. The elevator doors opened and there he was, the young, sexy Mr. Strauss, billionaire owner of Strauss Medical. My skin flushed as electricity flowed through the room. He was impeccably dressed in a black sport coat, slacks, and a baby blue pima cotton button-down with a silk white tie. He stood at least 6’3” tall. He had gorgeous deep green eyes that resembled some rare jewel. His hair was clean-cut and curly, a soft truffle brown. His skin was light copper and smooth. His face youthful looking, chiseled, strong even, complete with full sexy lips. He couldn’t be more than 30 years old, yet he owned the largest medical conglomerate on the West Coast. San Diego’s most eligible bachelor was standing right in front of me. I smoothed my scrubs down as they clung to my curvy frame and fluffed up my naturally blonde, long hair, trying not to look as awkward and out of place as I felt. I adjusted the petite glasses on my face as he glanced at me.
Historically, he only visited this clinic when big changes were on the horizon. He was the object of my darkest fantasies. He looked almost as scrumptious as he had—in my mind—the night before. Except in my dreams he wasn’t wearing a suit. Oh the naughty things I imagined him doing to me. I wiped my mouth, hoping I wasn’t drooling as he approached the nurse’s station.
“Good morning, Trisha. How are you?” Holy shit! He knows my name? I swallowed hard and tried to breath.
“Hi, Mr. Strauss, I’m good. How are you?” I tried—to no avail—to sound composed.
“I’m doing great. Would it be possible for you to stay late this evening? I need an assistant to help me update the nursing contracts.”
Stay late? With you? Yes! Yes! Yes! “Let me check my calendar,” I said, acting as if my schedule was booked. I opened the calendar on my iPhone. “Looks like I’m free. Will there be other staff joining us? I could order some take-out,” I sounded desperate as ever.
“No, just us. Take-out is a good plan though.” Oh my God! Dinner? Just the two of us? I felt like I might faint.
I busied myself throughout the day taking care of patients, updating charts, and returning phone calls—relishing in all the luxuries triage had to offer. At noon my stomach reminded me it was lunch time.
“I’m heading across the street to grab a sandwich. Would you like anything?” I asked my ultra control-freak boss. Why do I even bother? I don’t think she even eats.
“No thanks, but hurry back,” she answered.
“Whatever,” I said, under my breath as I exited the back door of the clinic. Finally free from my boss’ eagle eye, I checked my phone only to find a few meaningless emails. I crossed the street and entered the sandwich shop—and there he was—Mr. Super-Sexy sitting at a table in the center of the restaurant surrounded by several nurses that were all smiles and googly-eyed. Oh please, how pathetic! I ordered a turkey and cheese sandwich and sat at a table in the corner. It was far enough away from the swooning nurses, but still allowed a view of Mr. Super-Sexy. About half way through my sandwich, the nurses departed as the billionaire got up to leave. My blood turned to lava when he stopped and took a seat at my table instead.
“Hello Trisha. How’s your day going?” he said to me. Holy crap. Small talk. Breath damn it!
“Um...you know, living the dream…” I replied and we both laughed at my sarcasm. Even his laugh is sexy!
“What would Ms. Trisha Saul’s dream look like?” He asked, peering into me with those beautiful green eyes.
“I don’t know....win the lottery and retire before my twenty-sixth birthday? Then I could just hang out on the beach and sip lemonade.” A sly smile crept across his face and he raised his eyebrows.
“I’m certain you would look stunning lying on the beach, Ms. Saul.” What did he just say?
“Are you
I stood up straight when I heard the elevator ping. It was eight o’clock sharp. It had to be him. The elevator doors opened and there he was, the young, sexy Mr. Strauss, billionaire owner of Strauss Medical. My skin flushed as electricity flowed through the room. He was impeccably dressed in a black sport coat, slacks, and a baby blue pima cotton button-down with a silk white tie. He stood at least 6’3” tall. He had gorgeous deep green eyes that resembled some rare jewel. His hair was clean-cut and curly, a soft truffle brown. His skin was light copper and smooth. His face youthful looking, chiseled, strong even, complete with full sexy lips. He couldn’t be more than 30 years old, yet he owned the largest medical conglomerate on the West Coast. San Diego’s most eligible bachelor was standing right in front of me. I smoothed my scrubs down as they clung to my curvy frame and fluffed up my naturally blonde, long hair, trying not to look as awkward and out of place as I felt. I adjusted the petite glasses on my face as he glanced at me.
Historically, he only visited this clinic when big changes were on the horizon. He was the object of my darkest fantasies. He looked almost as scrumptious as he had—in my mind—the night before. Except in my dreams he wasn’t wearing a suit. Oh the naughty things I imagined him doing to me. I wiped my mouth, hoping I wasn’t drooling as he approached the nurse’s station.
“Good morning, Trisha. How are you?” Holy shit! He knows my name? I swallowed hard and tried to breath.
“Hi, Mr. Strauss, I’m good. How are you?” I tried—to no avail—to sound composed.
“I’m doing great. Would it be possible for you to stay late this evening? I need an assistant to help me update the nursing contracts.”
Stay late? With you? Yes! Yes! Yes! “Let me check my calendar,” I said, acting as if my schedule was booked. I opened the calendar on my iPhone. “Looks like I’m free. Will there be other staff joining us? I could order some take-out,” I sounded desperate as ever.
“No, just us. Take-out is a good plan though.” Oh my God! Dinner? Just the two of us? I felt like I might faint.
I busied myself throughout the day taking care of patients, updating charts, and returning phone calls—relishing in all the luxuries triage had to offer. At noon my stomach reminded me it was lunch time.
“I’m heading across the street to grab a sandwich. Would you like anything?” I asked my ultra control-freak boss. Why do I even bother? I don’t think she even eats.
“No thanks, but hurry back,” she answered.
“Whatever,” I said, under my breath as I exited the back door of the clinic. Finally free from my boss’ eagle eye, I checked my phone only to find a few meaningless emails. I crossed the street and entered the sandwich shop—and there he was—Mr. Super-Sexy sitting at a table in the center of the restaurant surrounded by several nurses that were all smiles and googly-eyed. Oh please, how pathetic! I ordered a turkey and cheese sandwich and sat at a table in the corner. It was far enough away from the swooning nurses, but still allowed a view of Mr. Super-Sexy. About half way through my sandwich, the nurses departed as the billionaire got up to leave. My blood turned to lava when he stopped and took a seat at my table instead.
“Hello Trisha. How’s your day going?” he said to me. Holy crap. Small talk. Breath damn it!
“Um...you know, living the dream…” I replied and we both laughed at my sarcasm. Even his laugh is sexy!
“What would Ms. Trisha Saul’s dream look like?” He asked, peering into me with those beautiful green eyes.
“I don’t know....win the lottery and retire before my twenty-sixth birthday? Then I could just hang out on the beach and sip lemonade.” A sly smile crept across his face and he raised his eyebrows.
“I’m certain you would look stunning lying on the beach, Ms. Saul.” What did he just say?
“Are you
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