Between Me & You: An Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance (Remington Medical Book 3)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “Ah, before I forget. Dr. Langston is preparing a statement to notify the board that you’ve accepted the position, but we’ll need to schedule a press conference for as soon as possible for the official announcement.”

  God damn it, Connor had managed to stay under the radar for ten years. Now he had to wrestle with a fucking press conference, right out of the gate? No way. Not happening.

  “That’s great. I’ll be sure to read all about it in The Remington Daily.”

  Harlow made a sound of dismay, some cross between a huff and a sigh that did all sorts of unexplainably filthy things to his anatomy despite the current situation. “You’ll need to be there, Connor.”

  Play it cool. Don’t push. Don’t—“Sorry, no can do. I’m not going to appear at a press conference.”

  Well, shit. He’d pushed. But come on. He could not, under any circumstances, risk people finding out about his past. His friends would—rightfully—shun him. Harlow would try to have him shit-canned before he’d started. And now that this job at the clinic was his, he wanted it. He wanted to help people.

  Naturally, Harlow wasn’t having it. “And may I ask why not?”

  Connor paused. He was going to have to play this just right to avoid offering himself up for vivisection. “Too showy for me. You said you’d deal with all of that stuff, anyway. I’m just here for ops. Not photo ops.”

  “I also made it clear that there were some things you and I would have to do together,” Harlow pointed out. “This is one of them. It’s non-negotiable.”

  His gut banked hard right. He should’ve known there would be at least some press—it’s not as if he wasn’t well-versed in how management positions worked, even if that knowledge had grown rusty.

  Time for tactic number two. “Okay, but why can’t we just get to work? Why do we have to make such a big deal out of it?”

  Harlow lifted a brow over the rim of her glasses. “First of all, because it’s standard practice for a business move like this one. Not making a public announcement would be unusual. And secondly, because good publicity is important. Believe me, the clinic needs all the positive spin it can get right now.”

  “Positive spin isn’t going to take care of the crappy management going on out there,” Connor said, gesturing toward the door.

  “Yeah, well it’s not going to hurt matters, I can promise you that. Especially for local businesses and organizations looking to make charitable donations to worthy causes.”

  Damn it, damn it, damn it! She had a point, and if he fought her any harder, she was going to start to question why. “I guess. I’d just rather focus on the important part of the job, is all.”

  “Dealing with the press is an important part of the job,” Harlow insisted. “After we make the announcement, I don’t anticipate you’ll have to do it very much, unless something really major happens. But in this instance, it’s necessary.”

  At Connor’s continued silence, during which he was pretty much repeating fuck my life on an endless internal loop, she added, “I understand that this sort of thing probably isn’t in your wheelhouse, but the press conference won’t be terribly large or involved. We’ll prepare a welcome statement, then introduce you and give you an opportunity to say a few words. I can handle the Q&A, if you’d prefer. A few photos, some handshakes, and good optics for the clinic. It’ll be a great first step.”

  Connor paused. In truth, what she’d just described didn’t sound like a complete hellscape, and it wasn’t as if a hospital press conference was on the radar of anyone outside of the medical community—especially for something as ho-hum as a pair of new directors taking over a failing wellness clinic. This move was hardly even news.

  But it would only take one person from his past with a really good memory and enough imagination to go with it, and the cover he’d carefully crafted for a decade would be blown.

  “Connor?” Harlow looked at him, her blue eyes narrowing, and shit. “You seem really hesitant about this press conference. Is there something going on here that I need to know about?”

  “No.”

  The word vaulted out of his mouth in a shot of pure self-preservation, and he followed it up with a shake of his head. It wasn’t untrue. Harlow didn’t need to know anything other than how he planned to run the clinic. His past was in his past. Hard stop.

  He exhaled slowly. “Like you said, stuff like that just isn’t what I’m used to. But if you’re sure it’s not going to be a big deal…”

  “It’s not,” she said, hammering Connor’s strategy into place. Sure, he’d made it a point to keep a low profile since retiring from the Air Force and coming back to Remington, but the years he’d been gone had done a lot to change his appearance, and this press conference was hardly going to make headlines. It sure as hell wasn’t a big enough deal to be televised, and Harlow had just said she’d take care of most of the face time. Plus, he knew her type. Ambitious to a frigging fault. Her already-keen sixth sense was clearly pinging, and no-showing on this press conference was only going to make her dig until she found out why.

  So he smiled with every last one of his teeth and said, “Well, in that case, I guess maybe I should go buy a suit.”

  4

  Harlow trailed her fork through her dinner and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window to her left. La Lumière was the best restaurant in Remington, and as such, it offered a view to match its impeccable reputation. It was a good thing Harlow had taken in the panoramic scene enough times to know it by heart, though, because tonight, she barely saw the twinkling lights or the beautifully backlit buildings.

  Nope. The only thing her mind’s eye would conjure was an unfailingly aggravating, unnervingly sexy male nurse who she was certain she’d met before, now more than ever.

  Why couldn’t she remember when or where?

  “Harlow.” Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to La Lumière’s dining room with a perfectly polished thud. “You’ve barely had a bite of your dinner. Wild mushroom risotto is your favorite. Chef Rossi would be disappointed.”

  He was, of course, right on all three counts. Angelina Rossi might embody the “angel” portion of her name in looks, but when it came to food, she was as serious as corporate takeover.

  “I apologize,” Harlow said, sending a well-mannered smile across the table. “The risotto is delicious, as usual. I’m afraid I had an unexpectedly late lunch.”

  This was a horseshoes and hand grenades version of the truth. She and Connor had gotten so caught up in trying (and arguing…and failing) to make sense of the clinic’s staffing schedules and payroll records that it had been two thirty before she’d even realized she should throw something down the hatch so she didn’t eventually keel over.

  “Hmm.” Her father fixed her with a look that promised nothing good, half doubt, half disapproval, as he ran a hand over his Italian silk tie. “That doesn’t seem to be all that’s keeping you from enjoying your meal. You’ve been distracted since we sat down. Would you like to tell me what’s on your mind?”

  From anyone else, the words would have been a question. From Maxwell Davenport?

  Nothing was ever a question, and damn it, she couldn’t afford to be off her game around her father.

  She smiled enough to sell it. “It’s been a long day, but nothing I can’t handle.”

  Harlow might not be thrilled about giving up her position on the board in order to take a more hands-on role in turning the clinic around, and sharing her decision-making power with a surly, argument-happy flight medic on top of it, but she certainly wasn’t going to let her father think for one second that she wasn’t up to the task. Especially since he clearly wanted her there for a reason.

  Not that she could figure out for the life of her what that reason could be.

  He took a sip of his scotch, the crystal glinting in the low light of the restaurant as he regarded her over the rim of his glass. “Ah, yes. And how are things at the clinic?”

  Surprise
moved through Harlow, although she was careful not to let it show. Allowing emotion, especially one that suggested she hadn’t been prepared for his inquiry, was a distinct weakness.

  “Didn’t you see the update?” she asked, taking a bite of risotto on ceremony. As the president and chief executive officer of Davenport Industries, a.k.a. her boss, he was privy to the clinic’s business dealings now that the hospital had agreed to the partnership that would (pretty please, baby Jesus) get the place back in the black.

  “Of course I saw it.” Her father’s gray-blond brows rose just enough for Harlow to give herself a swift mental kick. The man was never ill-prepared. The fact that he’d seen the update from Langston should’ve been a given. That she should’ve realized that without asking, even more so. “I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to mention that you filled the co-director’s position.”

  “It was only a matter of time once we made the offer,” she said easily, as if she’d planned the whole thing to go exactly the way that it had. Never mind that she was a month behind schedule and that she’d wanted to do her part of things as a board member with a less hands-on role, or that her father knew it. Never let them see you sweat was practically the Davenport family motto. It had been stitched into Harlow’s fabric since freaking birth.

  And so she didn’t. “I do have to admit, I was surprised Connor accepted so quickly,” she added, maneuvering the conversation away from her gaffe.

  “It is a bit unorthodox,” her father agreed. “But Mr. Bradshaw isn’t a businessman. Which is why, I suspect, the board chose him to co-direct. His expertise definitely appears to be in other fields.” He measured her with a glance. “Speaking of which, how are the two of you getting on?”

  “Fine.”

  The answer came automatically, even though it was a very loose interpretation of the truth. Connor might have been the board’s front-runner for the position, but he hadn’t been hers. She’d wanted the hospital’s pediatric surgical attending, Natalie Kendrick, in the role, enough so that she’d offered her the position first. The doctor had declined, the board had realized just how badly they needed outside assistance to right the clinic. And the rest was fuck-me history.

  Harlow frowned at the reminder that her father’s first order of business had been to split the position and plunk her into the half-role, with the board choosing Connor for the other half despite Harlow’s reservations, which she hadn’t been able to voice because—helloooo—no more board position. But Harlow wasn’t about to let her father think she couldn’t handle a bump in the road—especially not this early in the game. She’d worked far too hard for far too long to let him think she was anything other than one hundred percent competent and confident.

  “Fine? Really?” he asked, but it was more surprise than challenge.

  Harlow conceded to the smile that wanted to soften her mouth. “Well, it’s only been a day,” she said, taking a real bite of risotto this time. God, the stuff should seriously be illegal. “And you’re absolutely right. Connor’s not a businessman, and he’s pretty adamant he knows the best way to run the clinic.”

  “Let me guess,” her father said. “His philosophies aren’t in line with yours.”

  “They’re not even within a nautical mile.”

  She didn’t mind her father knowing the she and Connor were already going toe to toe. He’d seen Connor’s résumé. Trying to bright-side things was like sprinkling sugar on a pile of bullshit and calling it candy. Her father would never believe her, and anyway, she was up to the challenge. “Still, I have no doubt that once we begin moving forward, Connor will see that focusing on the business end is the best way to make the clinic a success.”

  “I see you’ve scheduled the press conference for tomorrow afternoon,” her father said.

  She nodded, some of the tension in her neck easing. “The hospital will make the public announcement in the morning, and there’s a lot of work to be done. Waiting to hold a press conference didn’t seem prudent.”

  “Perception is everything. You’ll need some good press right out of the gate,” he continued expectantly, but she was ahead of him, just as he’d taught her to be.

  “I’ve contacted a few local news outlets. They don’t usually give a whole lot of page-space to an announcement like this, but I think we should get a few nice mentions. I’d like for us to put our best foot forward, certainly, but a press conference for a hospital directorship is really more of a formality than anything else.”

  “This is business, Harlow. Nothing is just a formality,” her father said, smoothly enough to make her cheeks heat. “Is Connor prepared?”

  She thought back to the highly clipped I’m good he’d given her in response to all three of her offers to go over his remarks, and the promise—albeit not without a scowl—that he’d show up in a suit rather than scrubs. “He is.”

  Her father smiled. “Excellent. I look forward to meeting him. The two of you have a lot of work ahead.”

  “We do,” Harlow said, impulse getting the better of her before she could stop it. “It’s just…”

  She trailed off two seconds too late, and her father narrowed his gaze over her. “Speak your mind, Harlow. I taught you better than that.”

  Damn it. She could hardly deflect now, so she did the next best thing, tactically speaking. She met his gaze head-on. “I’m wondering why you placed me at the clinic.”

  Although his expression betrayed nothing, he paused for a beat before saying, “I placed you there because the clinic’s former management team failed spectacularly, and the hospital agreed that it was time for Davenport Industries to step in to provide hands-on strategy that would make the clinic both successful and profitable.”

  “I understand why the clinic needs assistance,” Harlow replied, navigating carefully around her frustration at the pat answer. The more she dug into the reports, the more she realized just how much help they really needed, and last she’d checked, she was pretty familiar with how takeovers worked. “Just not why I need to be the one to offer it. The Harrington contract is much—”

  Her father cut her off before the words bigger or better could cross her lips. “You’re not suited for that role.”

  At the surprise she’d had no hope of keeping away from her face, he softened by a degree, folding his hands over the table in front of him and leaning toward her. “I realize the co-director’s position at the clinic is unorthodox. When we take over a company, we don’t normally share the power to run it. But Davenport Industries’ presence at the clinic is only temporary. Once Mr. Bradshaw is on board with running things appropriately and the clinic is in the black, you’ll resume your position on the board and be placed on another contract, as we agreed. But until then, we need someone with your capabilities at the clinic.”

  Harlow sat back in her chair, taking a minute to digest the information even though none of it was new. She’d known the position wasn’t permanent, just as she’d known Davenport Industries’ presence at the clinic was less than traditional. She might not love—or, okay, even passably like—the fact that her placement there felt like a demotion. She’d clawed her way up the career ladder at Davenport Industries on pure merit, which hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk since she’d had to dodge the triple-whammy of a) being the CEO’s daughter, b) being under the ripe old age of thirty, and c) being in possession of a vagina. But if her father said he needed her to get Connor on board and the clinic right side up, then that’s what she’d do.

  She might not like or even understand the situation he’d put her in, but she trusted him.

  “Alright, then,” Harlow said. “I won’t let you down.”

  And she wouldn’t, she told herself as her father smiled, then shifted the subject to the dessert menu. Connor hadn’t been her first choice for the job, that was true, and God, he seemed determined to fight her at every turn. But his résumé was fairly decent; plus, Langston had backed him, and the chief seemed to be an excellent judge of character. Onc
e they got started, Connor would see that she knew what she was doing.

  All they had to do was get through this press conference with smiles on their faces, and then they could get down to business.

  5

  Connor adjusted his tie, a.k.a. torture device, and looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him. Langston had decided to make an exception to the rules and let Connor use the attendings’ lounge to get ready for the press conference. The space was more upscale athletic club than high school gym (or nurses’ locker room, as it turned out), with its spacious, wood-paneled lockers and privately curtained dressing areas on one side, and plush couches and high-dollar, by-the-cup coffee maker on the opposite end of the room. Nervous energy jumped in his veins despite his ritzy surroundings, and he took a slow, deep breath in order to manage his adrenaline before it managed him.

  Assess. Strategize. Act.

  Connor mentally reviewed the agenda Harlow had deigned to give him for the trillionth time. A welcome announcement from Langston. A four-line statement from Connor that he’d specifically engineered to be as brief and forgettable as possible. Harlow’s little Q&A session, a few handshakes and smiles for the board, and he’d be back in his scrubs by lunchtime. No sweat.

  Now all he had to do was get through the “act” part, and he’d be just fine.

  “Ooooh, the big man cleans up nice,” came a voice from over Connor’s shoulder, and he turned just in time to catch Jonah saunter into the center of the lounge, with Mallory and Charlie close behind.

  “Very fancy, you big stud,” Mallory said, waggling his dark brows, and Charlie shook her head, mouthing sorry! at Connor before laughing as he tagged Mallory with the most jovial grin in his arsenal.

  “Fuck off,” Connor replied happily, making Mallory laugh, too.

  “And so eloquent.”

  “Don’t mind these two,” Charlie said. “I think you look great.”