Episode Forever Love

by Lauren Snow

  FOREVER LOVE

  A MEDICAL BILLIONAIRE'S ROMANCE LOVE SERIES

  BOOK 5

  LAUREN SNOW

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 LAUREN SNOW

  All rights Reserved All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Today I embark on a new adventure. The wonderful world of phlebotomy. Taking patients’ blood was never my first career choice; I sort of fell into it by happenstance. But I couldn’t be more excited for it as I step inside the Morgan-Rimley Wellness Clinic. I’m definitely nervous, but it’s the good kind, the kind that motivates you to get your ass in there and knock ‘em dead. I’m ready.

  “Good morning, Miss,” greets the lobby security guy with a warm smile. “Here for an appointment?”

  “No, I’m actually here for my first day of work,” I explain.

  “Ah, great! See Sidney at the front desk over there.” He points to a redheaded lady with huge, chunky windows on her face. They are the largest specs I’ve ever seen on a person.

  I walk up to her and introduce myself. She dials up Dinah, my supervisor, to let her know I’m here, and the woman emerges from the back before Sidney can even hang up the phone.

  “Hello there, Therese!” she says, giving me a nice firm handshake. “We’ve been expecting you! Follow me to the back, please.”

  I oblige her as she leads me around a corner and down a hallway.

  “Did you find us okay?” she asks me.

  “I did, actually. You gave great directions. Thank you.”

  “Great, I’m glad to hear it,” she says. “Cold enough out there for ya?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” I reply. “I hate this weather.”

  Dinah laughs and takes me into the employee lounge.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” she offers.

  “Not much of a coffee drinker,” I tell her. “But thanks, though.”

  “Not a problem. Well, any time you want, you can come in here and help yourself to snacks. We’ve got chips, crackers, juice, cookies, the whole shot. Don’t be shy.”

  Two other people come in behind us. One is a tall guy named Gregg (he’s a dietician, I think) and the other is a petite woman named Huldah (who I believe is a nurse’s assistant). I met them at orientation.

  “Hey!” Gregg says to me with a wave. “I remember you from last week!”

  I smile. “Yup, that’s me!”

  “Welcome to this crazy family,” Huldah chimes in. “Now that you’re officially in, there is no escape.” She lets out a teasing evil cackle. The whole room laughs with her, including me. I think I’m going to like it here.

  “I think Therese is gonna do well here,” Dinah says, beaming with glee. It’s almost like she read my mind. “Come on. Let me show you where you have to clock in.”

  We leave the staff room. Dinah takes me to the end of the hallway, where there’s an LCD monitor fixed to the wall. She taps on the screen and an employee login interface springs up in place of the clinic logo. Very fancy, very hi-tech stuff.

  “So this is where you’ll sign in every day,” Dinah tells me. “You remember the username and password I gave you at orientation, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Great. Well you’ll need to input that every time you work a shift.”

  “Alright, sounds good.”

  “Awesome. Now before you actually clock in, I wanna tell you. You’re starting on the perfect day because the clinic is overdue for a quarterly inspection.”

  My heart plummets into my stomach. What did she just say? A quarterly inspection?

  “Oh. Okay. And what does that entail?” I ask. Now my heart has taken the elevator up to my throat.

  “It’s just standard procedure,” Dinah answers. “Nothing scary. Just auditing medical protocols to make sure everything is being done properly.”

  “Got it. Cool.” I put on a brave, unbothered face, even though my insides are crawling with dread.

  “Therese, you’ll be fine,” Dinah assures me. “The auditor is probably just gonna check and make sure your needles are sanitary and that you have adequate supplies.”

  As if her explanation makes this any better. Two days’ notice at least would have been much appreciated. What if I suffered horrible anxiety attacks? I don’t, but she doesn’t know that.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I say, forcing a smile.

  “Don’t sweat it too much. You already proved in your interview that you know your stuff.”

  “Thanks, Dinah.”

  “And just so you’re aware, operations will continue as normal,” she adds. “Patients will be in and out like any other regular day. Stay on your P’s and Q’s.”

  She smiles encouragingly at me, then leaves me to marinate in my own thoughts. Great. Here goes nothing. I hope whoever’s conducting this audit isn’t a complete a-hole.

  I go to the lab and make sure all the equipment is where it should be. All the essentials are here; the needles, the tubes, the tourniquets, the alcohol swabs, the cotton balls and the band-aids. I report back to my supervisor that everything is present, clean, and ready for assessment.

  At 9:38, the auditor finally arrives. He knocks a tune on the lab door to let me know he’s here. I pick my head up from the health magazine I was reading to find a tall, handsome, dark-haired man standing in the doorway with an iPad in his hand. He looks awfully familiar; that sharp, flared nose, those eager, heroic blue eyes, the dominant chin.

  “Hope I didn’t interrupt,” he says, laughing.

  That laugh; it’s hearty and shrill and almost dolphin-like. I’ve heard it before. Only one person I know has a laugh like that.

  “Are you . . .” He refers to his tablet for my name. “. . . Therese Forman?”

  My heart becomes a runaway elevator again. I study his features carefully. They’re just about the same as I remembered them, except the glasses. Those black frames are brand new. I think I have an idea of who this might be.

  “Jenson?” I say very, very faintly, so faint, that I could barely hear myself.

  I’m sure he saw my mouth move, but heard absolutely no sound.

  “Jenson Lutz?” I speak a bit louder this time, but apparently not loud enough. He frowns, trying to decipher what the hell I’m saying.

  I can’t believe this. Here is my ninth-grade crush, all grown up. I was infatuated with him back in high school. He was homecoming prince, star quarterback for the junior varsity football team (GO PUMAS!), and extremely popular with the ladies. My shy fourteen-year-old self could never build up the nerve to talk to him, even look at him. I clammed up whenever he came around. My palms leaked horribly whenever his name was mentioned. Now here he is, almost twenty years later.

  He’s standing there, waiting for me to say something. But I can’t. That demure ninth-grade girl has returned. I can’t, for the life of me, summon the guts to talk to him.

  CHAPTER TWO

>   “You alright?” I ask her. She looks stunned, almost like she doesn’t understand why I’m here.

  She nods her head, but the motion is very delicate, very weak.

  “Y-yes,” she answers. The word hardly qualifies as audible.

  “Well . . .” I check my iPad again to make sure I have her name correct. “. . . Therese, just so you know, I’m not starting the audit just yet, so you’ve got some time to breathe for a sec here. I’m just dropping by to each department, so you become familiar with my face, and to introduce myself. I’m Jenson, by the way. Jenson Lutz.”

  I step forward to shake her hand. With reluctance, she takes it.

  “Therese,” she says, smiling with unease.

  “Well, Therese, I’m sure you’re aware by now that I’m just here to make sure everything in the clinic is being handled properly. I’m gonna go make my rounds, but I’ll be back your way shortly. Sound good?”

  “Sounds good,” she says. I give her a thumbs-up.

  I leave the room and try to shake off the incredible awkwardness that just happened. Did my breath smell? Do I have one of those douchey faces that girls just don’t like? Because I’ve actually gotten that on occasion, even though most tell me that my face is the last thing they think about before they go to sleep.

  This Therese girl looks familiar, though. Between the russet curls, the pouty red lips and the freckles on her cheeks, I’m sure I’ve seen her before. When I get back around to her, I’m going to pay more attention to her for sure.

  I first stop by the in-house pharmacy to make sure everything is up to par. I check off on whether the medicines are suitably stored, there are very few back orders, and that there is always a tech manning the counter at all times. All of those criteria are being met. Good. Moving on.

  I go to inspect the holding rooms, making sure they’re not left in disarray and that there are no foreign items that don’t need to be there. Then I check in with the nurses on staff to ensure that all materials are sanitized and that they are equipped with the appropriate gear to perform their duties. So far so good. What’s left are billing, intake, the pediatric unit, and of course, the lab. I’d save the lab for last.

  I fly through all the departments except one, and at this point, there are zero discrepancies and demerits. Flawless record as of right now. Almost too perfect. But there’s still one department left to check. The lab.

  I make my way back to the room where Therese is. From what I’ve been told, Therese is new, so I’m hoping, for her sake, that she’s on top of her game.

  I knock on the door again. It’s open, but I do it as a courtesy so I don’t startle her. “Yoo-hoo,” I say in a funny voice, trying to ease any tension she may be feeling.

  She giggles and acknowledges that I’m here. I step into the room and do a quick examination. Therese fumbles around in one of the cabinets, spilling a few tube caps on the floor. She’s nervous. This I can tell loud and clear.

  “So Therese, one of the things that I have to check on is if the needles are being routinely changed,” I tell her. “But, because you guys technically just opened, and no one has really come through here yet, I’ll let you off the hook with that.” I can see her deflate with relief.

  “I also have to see if the blood tubes are being kept at optimal temperatures . . . and because you haven’t taken any blood yet, that also does not apply.”

  Therese laughs.

  “However, I have one question for you, because I do have to submit a response for this. Can you tell me what the ideal climate is for stored blood?”

  I hate to quiz her, but I have to. My father’s company is insanely strict on health code compliance. And he’d have my head if I let just anyone remain employed that didn’t know what the hell they were doing. Lutz Live Health is a premier insurance provider and accepts nothing less than excellence. That was the insular motto.

  Therese stares at the floor nervously, as if the answer would come crawling up to her.

  “Uh, that depends on if the blood sample is being stored at room temperature, refrigerated, or frozen,” she answers.

  “Ah, very good. And that was a trick question. So say I want it room temp. What are the parameters there?”

  “Between fifteen and thirty degrees Celsius usually?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” I have to mess with her.

  She smirks with discomfort. “Telling you?”

  “No, you’re right.” I smile to put her at ease. “Therese, you’re doing great. Just relax. One more question, just to see how learned you are about where to insert a needle. When performing a venipuncture, what vein is the most ideal for the patient?”

  Her eyes inflate with panic. “Um . . .”

  “Take your time. I’m in no rush,” I tell her, smiling to keep her blood pressure from skyrocketing.

  “It’s the, uh . . .” She slams her hand against her forehead. “Darn it, I know this!”

  “I’ll give you a hint. A person that’s shallow and all they care about is looks, people would normally call them . . .” I let her fill in the blank.

  “Superficial!” she says.

  “Aha! There it is. I knew the answer was somewhere inside you.”

  I gave her that one. Why not? She’s new. I’ll take it easy on her.

  “Can’t believe I didn’t know that one,” she says.

  “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. You knew about the temperature question, right? I’m sure there’s plenty more knowledge where that came from. I don’t doubt you know your stuff at all.”

  Her cheeks flush red. “Thanks,” she says coyly.

  “Well, that about does it for my inspection,” I tell her. “Off I go. You’re gonna do fine here at the clinic, Therese. I have faith in you. Good luck moving forward.”

  “I appreciate that, Jenson.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I swivel on my heels and head for the door, but before I go . . . “Hey, Therese?”

  “Yes?”

  “You look very familiar.”

  She turns red. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing about you,” she says.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My heart is pounding a million miles a second. Interacting with Jenson is the culprit. Him quizzing me on my phlebotomy knowledge just made things worse. I take a moment to gather my nerves. They’re a little shaken right now. The aroma he left behind doesn’t help.

  Jensen’s cologne lingers in the room. It’s a masculine but light scent. Just enough to entice and dominate you, but not overly oppressive. It’s almost like he’s still here in the room with me.

  I’m in disbelief that he was even in the room to begin with. That was the most I’ve ever talked to him. Four years of high school, and never had a conversation beyond a cordial, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” Most of the time, barely that. A courteous nod was usually the height of our communication. He and I were just on two opposite ends of the social spectrum; he was the charming, attractive jock whom everybody loved, and I was the token wallflower that everybody overlooked.

  At any rate, I’m relieved that he’s gone. Any longer, and I would have collapsed from a panic attack. I felt one brewing inside me. My head was swimming, my hands were moistening, my knees were starting to buckle. I couldn’t help myself. Jenson has that effect on me. Always has, if I’m being honest. Never could I keep it at bay whenever he came around.

  Still, I kind of wished he hadn’t left so I could talk to him more. I’d love to know what he’s been up to since graduating from Rowling Prep. How has life treated him since then? What college did he go to afterward, if he went at all? Does he have a significant other? Kids? A dog? Where does he live? So much I want to know about him. What if this was my only shot? What if I never get another chance to talk to him?

  A series of knocks on the door interrupt my thoughts.

  “Hey, Therese.” It’s my supervisor, Dinah. “How’d it go?” She folds her arms and smiles as she steps further into the room.

&
nbsp; “It went well,” I reply. “Better than I expected.”

  “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” I say quickly. “If anything, he made me feel more comfortable.”

  “Good, glad to hear it. Well, you made it! You survived your first quarterly! And on your first day, no less! That’s a marvelous rookie feat!” She laughs and playfully punches me in the shoulder.

  “So that’s it, huh? We won’t be seeing him for another three months?” I ask. I can hear the disappointment in my own voice. I’m afraid to hear the answer. I hope he comes back, but damn it, I don’t want to have to wait ninety days to see him.

  “Actually, he’ll be back in two days to compile a progress report,” Dinah replies. “He’s just gonna do a quick once-over with each department, jot down his final thoughts, and forward them to his dad’s company.”

  His dad’s company?

  “Wait. Lutz Live Health is owned by Jenson’s father?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I did not know that. But now it makes sense. I always knew Jenson’s dad was filthy rich, but I never knew for what. Should have known there was a connection, though. Lutz isn’t a very common surname in the first place.

  “I think we’re good, though,” Dinah adds. “He looked real pleased about how everything was, so I’m sure we’ve got this in the bag.”

  I smile in tandem with her hopefulness.

  “So you can breathe now,” she jokes, gesturing calmly. “If I had to slap a letter grade on us, I believe we’re a solid A.” She smiles and leaves the room.

  So two days. That’s when he returns. My chest begins to thump just thinking about it. His scent is still very much present in the room. I imagine him standing in front of me. What would I tell him?

  Hey Jenson, do you know I’ve always liked you?

  How would he react to that?

  Jenson of younger years would have probably laughed at me. He wasn’t exactly an ass in school, but he was definitely the type who wouldn’t dare be seen in public with someone who looked like me: plus size, freckles, incurably awkward. It would tarnish his image. And back during the teenage era, image was everything.