by Jess Dee
“Look…Adam.” The color in her face deepened. “Regardless of what…we’ve shared, or of what just happened, I’m only here to discuss the sibling program. I’m honestly not interested in trading insults or arguing with you. Or making reference to…us. Can you handle that? Can we keep this meeting on a strictly professional basis?
To be blunt, the project’s too important to me to waste my time with anything else.”
This time he couldn’t hold back his smile. “Go ahead, Lexi. You have my full attention.”
For a moment she just stared at him, then she blinked and shook her head. “As I said, the initial letter I sent outlines the basics of the project. This proposal is more detailed.”
She pushed a folder to him. “Anything we don’t cover today is mentioned in there. The project will be based at POWS, even though it’s not aimed at the patients. Its primary purpose is to provide support to siblings of children with cancer.”
Adam settled back in his seat. Despite his headache, she had his full attention and he knew she could see it. Her tone warmed to her subject.
“The siblings are the forgotten victims in the fight against cancer. All focus is put on the sick child, which is understandable. The problem is, the brothers and sisters also experience anxiety and distress, and their needs are often overlooked by parents and caregivers in the struggle to treat the patient.”
Adam nodded. The trend wasn’t foreign to him—he knew more than any person should need to about childhood cancer.
Lexi continued. “These kids have to adapt to so many new things so quickly, the experience can be overwhelming. Their once healthy siblings are sick. How are they supposed to cope? Apart from the obvious worry about the sibling, they may also experience associated guilt, guilt that they’re healthy and the sibling’s not. Or there’s the fear that they could get sick too. They have no control of the situation. They’ve learned the hard way that no one’s invincible.”
“It’s a traumatic lesson,” Adam agreed.
“And there’s so much more,” Lexi said, her voice filled with passion. “They need to learn new patterns of relating to other family members. All the family dynamics change.
For example, parents may focus more on the sick child, neglecting the healthy sibling. Or that sibling may suddenly find him or herself looking after younger siblings, or doing the housework, or performing other roles formerly done by the parents.”
She paused and took another sip of coffee. Her eyes settled on his face. “How’s your head?”
He nodded, surprised. “A little better, actually.”
“Good.” She smiled and got straight back to business. “These kids have no outlet for their new emotions and anxieties. Their parents are involved with the sibling. The sibling is often too ill to speak to, and their friends can’t comprehend what they’re going through. Where do they turn? Whom do they talk to?”
“There are counselors at the hospital, social workers and psychologists like yourself.
Surely it’s your role to speak to these children.”
Lexi nodded. “It is and we do. Most times, however, intervention is aimed at the parents and the sick child. Don’t get me wrong, plenty of siblings receive counseling or are referred to appropriate support groups, and they do well. It’s the ones who slip through the cracks who suffer. Our project targets all the siblings, not just those lucky enough to have already been reached by the system.”
“So what is it exactly you plan to do? Why do you think you can reach these children when others before you haven’t?”
“We intend to identify siblings from the first hospital admission. When a new patient is admitted, notes will be made about siblings, and the information sent through to us.
When the time is right, a staff member will approach the parents to discuss the possibility of the siblings joining the program.”
“When the time is right?”
“The family’s in crisis. They’d need time to adjust to both the illness and the treatment before we introduced the concept of sibling intervention. We can’t let too much time pass, though. The siblings are in crisis too, and the sooner we get to them, the better.”
“So what will your program offer?”
“It’s a threefold service with a primary focus on counseling and support. We’d also offer education about the disease, maybe even a chance for the kids to meet with the doctors and ask questions that their parents can’t or won’t answer. Finally, the program would give the children a place to go when they don’t know where else to turn.”
“Where would your offices be?”
“Next to the pediatric oncology ward. I have approval from the hospital board to utilize a few empty rooms. We’d convert them into a lounge, a toy room, a counseling room and an office for the staff members.”
“Who is the ‘we’ you keep referring to?”
“Hospital social workers and nurses who have volunteered to help. I still need a fulltime person to coordinate and manage the whole project. Someone new. The volunteers can’t give more than a few hours a week of their time. They already have full-time jobs.”
“What about you? This is your baby, why not see it through?” She’d be good for the job. She knew her stuff and she obviously had an invested interest in the program. Most of all, she cared.
Lexi laughed. “I’m already employed full time by the hospital. I’d be able to set a few hours aside each week to help out, but it’s not enough to ensure the program runs smoothly.”
“Why the interest in this specific program?” He knew the answer. He knew almost everything about her.
Lexi hesitated. She gave him a wary look, then shrugged. “I was once one of those kids. When I was ten, my sister was diagnosed with leukemia.”
“Is she…did she survive?”
“Yeah. She’s one of the lucky ones.”
“What was it like for you, when she was sick?” He shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t find out any more about her. He couldn’t help himself.
“A year straight from hell,” Lexi said. “I was too young to grasp the severity of the situation. Sarah was sick, my parents were devastated and the family almost fell apart.”
She played with her coffee cup. “I was an emotional wreck, swinging from sad to happy, to angry to jealous. I had trouble concentrating at school, and apart from my brother, I didn’t have any real support.” She looked him dead in the eye. “I could really have used a little professional help then.”
“What about now?” Was she over the trauma or did it still haunt her?
“I’ve worked through it. Took a while, though. I would have coped better if I’d received intervention when Sarah was first diagnosed.”
“And thus the sibling program?”
“And thus the sibling program,” she agreed. “Far as I’m concerned, POWS can provide a way more comprehensive and holistic service if we treat the whole family and not just the patient.”
Lexi cared, Adam realized. She gave a damn about what happened to people, even if she didn’t know them—and she had no trouble showing it.
A sudden sense of claustrophobia overpowered him. He had to get away from her.
Once before, he’d seen this side of her. At her brother’s exhibition. He’d liked that she gave a damn. He’d liked it too much. Now it scared him shitless. What if she began to care about him? What if she began to show it? Worse, what if he began to care about her?
He wouldn’t. AJ Riley flew solo. Full stop. She might be the caring type. He wasn’t.
Not any more.
Damn it, he had to get away.
“Okay. What’s the bottom line here? Give me a figure, how much do you need?”
She frowned in confusion and he couldn’t blame her. One minute he acted warm and interested, and the next, cold and dismissive.
“Fifty thousand dollars—to start. That’s a rough estimate, though. The proposal includes a detailed costs analysis.”
He gave the document a cursory glance,
then put it on the seat beside him. Later, he’d go over it with a fine-toothed comb, the way he went over any business document.
In the meantime, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
“You’re good, Lexi, you know that?” He deliberately kept his voice colder than the deadened area in his heart.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your little show was good. I almost bought the ‘I’m innocent’ act.”
“What?” she spluttered, “you still think I slept with you to get your money?”
“Didn’t you?”
Her face turned scarlet.
“It worked,” he told her. “Must have been the added extra in the lift earlier. I’m honestly considering giving you the funds.” He leered at her breasts, hating himself as he did it. “If you’d consider trying to convince me again.”
Lexi flew out of her seat. Grabbing her almost empty cup, she threw the dregs in his face. The cold coffee hit him square in the eyes and dripped down his nose and cheeks.
“Mr. Riley,” she bit out, “why don’t you take your money and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine?” She grabbed her briefcase and marched off. Before she’d taken three strides, she whirled back and glared at him. “If you should mistakenly believe that the sun does shine down there, trust me, you’re wrong. And I should know, I’ve seen it.”
Chapter Six
Lexi slammed her purse on her desk and sat. She switched on her computer and tried to take a deep, calming breath. She’d wrongly assumed a good night’s sleep would put a little distance between her and her rage. Fifteen hours later, she was every bit as pissed off as she had been yesterday afternoon.
Riley wasn’t just a cold, callous bastard. He was a complete prick. She despised him.
His drop-dead-gorgeous looks and sexy-as-sin body only made her despise him more.
How dare he make such insinuations? Did the asshole really believe she’d have slept with him if she knew who he was? Professionalism would have stopped her long before it ever got to that point. Besides, she would have been way too busy running the intricate details of her project by him to even consider sex.
Okay—she would have considered it. No way in hell she could look at the man and not think about sex. He was sex personified. Sex oozed from every pore. Even if the meeting in his office had been their first, Lexi would have fantasized her way through the entire appointment. Hardcore fantasies, no doubt. Dammit, she would never have carried through on the thoughts. She was a social worker at the hospital, for God’s sake, a professional seeking out his financial assistance. What kind of a woman did he think she was?
Stupid question. She knew exactly what kind of woman he thought she was.
Now where the hell would she find the money? Even if Riley offered it to her, accepting it would make her look like the proverbial whore. How else could she raise the necessary funds? Riley had been her last and best bet.
While she’d waited the six weeks for her appointment to see him, she’d spoken to dozens of other potential backers and pitched her best line to them. All had liked it. Some had been very impressed. A few had even offered to help out with small amounts. None had been able or willing to foot the entire bill. Riley had honestly been her last hope.
Shit.
Her enthusiasm slipped slowly away. If she couldn’t get the money from Riley, where would it come from? Fifty thousand dollars wasn’t just going to materialize before her eyes. Her shoulder began to twinge annoyingly as she contemplated her options.
Another fundraiser? Daniel’s photographic exhibition was just a few months behind them. It wasn’t feasible to think of a second huge event so soon. Sure, the general public wanted to help where they could, but their pockets weren’t bottomless. Everyone had a cap, and two major fundraisers in under six months was over the top. Even Lexi could see that.
The twinge tightened into a small knot on her shoulder, and she kneaded it. There was a very real possibility she might not be able to start up her support program. Would she have to shelve the idea? That was the last thing she’d considered. She couldn’t give up on the program. What about all those kids who hadn’t been reached? All those kids who wouldn’t get support in the future?
The knot replicated itself on her other shoulder.
She considered going back to the hospital board and throwing herself at their mercy.
Maybe if she asked very nicely, they’d foot the bill.
It wouldn’t happen. The hospital was strapped for cash. Whatever extra they had, they siphoned straight into POWS and targeted it at medical treatment. Psychological intervention aimed at healthy siblings, while important, was simply not considered primary medical care. Not when lives where at stake and money was limited.
Hot pinpricks of tension ran up her neck. All her hard work and plans unravelled at her feet. Her project was falling apart and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Where could she get the money?
Her dream had just come to a careening halt. Lexi blinked back tears. Her vision lay in tatters.
Her neck stiffened into a pressure board of tension. She’d have massaged the vicious knots, but by now the simple task of lifting her hands to her neck was too painful.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Her plan had failed. The bottom had dropped out.
It had all been so clear. With a little money and the right people, the program would have been brilliant. In her mind’s eye she could hear the voices of the kids as they sat together, chatting and laughing. She could feel the hope and the optimism that reverberated through the centre.
For the first time, Lexi had failed at something she’d set her mind to. She tapped on the desk. Failure—the word did not sit well with her. She tapped a little faster. All because of AJ “Asshole” Riley. No money. No program. Failure. All because of him.
She had to acknowledge it was all over. The project had just died a quick and unexpected death. All thanks to Riley.
Bullshit.
Where that little voice had come from, Lexi had no idea. Nevertheless, it stopped her musings short. Bullshit?
Yes, damn it. Bullshit. If her plan had failed, it had nothing to do with Riley. Pinning all her hopes on one person was just plain dumb. It wasn’t his responsibility to make sure the project worked. It was Lexi’s. Why should he care what happened to the siblings?
He’d never had a sibling with cancer. It had nothing to do with him. This was her baby.
Not his. If she wanted it to work, she had to make it work. Had to come up with another plan. She had to go back to the drawing board and start again.
She’d known all along he might not make the donation. So what if he was the most likely source of money? He wasn’t the only source. She could do this. She could make this program work. She’d just have to work harder than she’d ever expected to. A lot harder. The project wasn’t going to bum out because AJ bloody Riley thought she was nothing better than a common hooker.
No way. She’d succeed despite the asshole. She’d do it for all those children out there. All the little Daniels and Lexis whose siblings had cancer. Dammit, if she could make it easier for them, she would. She didn’t need his help. She could do this without him.
For the kids. It was all for the kids.
Her shoulders relaxed a little and she hit the enter key on her keyboard. She typed feverishly and then hit enter again. The screen blinked and there it was—the file she’d been searching for.
The list of potential donors to POWS.
She’d started the list years before, when she’d first joined the hospital staff. Each year she’d added a couple of names as she learned who the big players in the fundraising game were. The list had grown substantially. After Daniel’s exhibition, its numbers were at an all-time high.
She’d find someone on that list to donate money, or she’d die trying. No way Riley was stopping her plans. She’d do it without the bastard. She scanned down the screen, waiting for a name to jump out at her, someone she hadn’
t already contacted. Who would it be?
The Cancer Research Foundation? Their priority was research, not psychosocial support. What about Ronald McDonald House Charity? Nope. They ran their own similar programs. Any money they had, they’d plough back into their own projects. In fact, most of the other foundations on her list worked the same way. They used their cash to fund their own programs.
She considered private companies and scrolled down a couple of pages to the list of buyers from her brother’s exhibition. Some of the names were meaningless—she’d never heard of them. Several of them she gave careful consideration and then discarded with a simple shake of her head. Four names sounded familiar and she jotted down their details, considering them viable possibilities.
She’d compiled the list alphabetically, and her pulse quickened as she reached the Rs. Yes, Riley Corporation had been there. They’d bought four photos—and donated them straight back to the hospital, where they now hung at the entry to POWS. With the hefty price tag attached to each picture, the generosity of the company had, by no means, been small.
She drummed the desk and wondered who’d represented Riley’s at the exhibition. At the time, she’d been so wrapped up in the success of the evening she hadn’t taken note.
Could Adam have been there?
Surely not. She would have noticed him. Hell, she would have sensed his presence across that cavernous gallery, pulling her like a magnet.
Maybe not. She’d hardly had a minute to herself that night. By the time the hive of activity had slowed to a gentle buzz, most of the crowd had left. The only people remaining behind so late into the night had been the core group involved in the exhibition set up, POWS staff members and close family and friends.
If Adam had been there, he’d have left by the time she’d had a chance to notice him.
It was immaterial. She didn’t have time to ponder the matter. She needed to secure funds for the project.
Half an hour later, she rang through to the department secretary.
“Penny, I need your help,” she said when the petite blonde appeared in her office.