For a moment she didn't say anything but sat with her glasses in her hands, staring at him like he'd lost his mind. She'd never seen a doctor get excited about equipment before.
"Excuse me, Dr. Moulton, if I'm not quite as exuberant as you about this lavish center you want to build. My focus as the head of this project will be that we raise enough money to pay for what we need and that whatever debt we have to finance does not overwhelm this hospital for the next twenty years. Our government funds together with what we raise in donations must pay for more than fifty percent of this project."
The excitement he'd experienced moments ago dimmed slightly, and he sensed she'd just pointed out a flashing yellow caution light on a speedway. Surely she realized that the county was in desperate need of an updated facility. "The children of Smith County deserve good health care. Last year, eighteen thousand children walked through the doors of this hospital."
"I agree, Dr. Moulton. The question of the children of Smith County receiving good health care is not an issue. My concern is what this hospital can afford. My job is to raise as much money as possible and keep our costs in line."
He slumped in the chair, wanting to somehow ruffle the feathers of this very cool woman who looked professional and hot at the same time. "Have you made a plan of action to acquire the capital needed for this project?"
"I'm researching what's available in federal grants and loans and Chairman Weaver has already begun to solicit donations from some of our more prominent members of the Tyler community. You know, the larger donors who may want the wing named after them."
"Sounds reasonable."
"I have some ideas I want to discuss at a committee meeting I'm having next week."
"Jennifer, if you can bring this together for me and my staff, we'll be very grateful." He liked the way her blue eyes grew large and soft at his obvious attempt to flatter her professionally.
Jennifer smiled. "Whether or not this project comes together will depend on if we get the donations we need."
Brent tried to contain his enthusiasm. "I'd be a good spokesman if you need someone to talk to the community about this project. I'd be happy to speak to any organizations that you think can help us."
She paused. "I'll take that under advisement. Still…your expectations about how much we're going to be able to raise and how much government funding we'll be able to obtain should be realistic."
Life should be realistic, but sometimes a man wanted the impractical. Just like now. The sound of her voice sent his visceral reactions into stimulus overload, and his body responded. It was just chemistry. Still, he wanted her badly, and given his previous history with her sister, that didn't seem wise.
"I'll have the staff put together our recommendations for you. You know, sort of a wish list," he said, trying not to focus on the way her breasts pushed against her silk blouse.
She shook her head. "That would be helpful, but don't get your hopes too high, Dr. Moulton. Funds will be limited."
Limited funds in a hospital were a part of daily life. But his hopes were soaring at the thought of a chance to explore Jennifer's lush curves.
He raised his brows. "We'll see."
"The first committee meeting will be next Tuesday at nine o'clock, and I'd like you to be there. I spoke with your secretary and she said she would clear your calendar that morning."
"Good. Unless I have an emergency, you can count on my attendance."
They seemed to run out of things to say, and for a moment he simply stared at her, admiring the saucy tilt of her head. For a woman, she had a cocky air about her that drew him. He wanted to kiss that confident mouth of hers until she begged him to take her right there on her desk.
"Anything else, Dr. Moulton?" she asked, watching him, unaware he daydreamed of her and him on the desk naked.
Yet there remained that issue with her sister. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts from their wayward path. How did a guy tell the woman he wanted that he'd slept with her sister, even if it was years ago?
"I'm sorry our dinner date didn't exactly turn out as planned. I tried to find you after I finished up in the emergency room, but the nurses told me you'd left."
"Yes, I called my sister and she picked me up since I didn't know how long you'd be," Jennifer said, her blue eyes shifting uncomfortably.
"I still owe you a dinner," he remarked. He'd enjoyed being with her that night, so much in fact that part of him knew that if he asked her out again, he'd be tempted to take her home to his king-size bed. And he didn't like to date women that appealed to him both mentally and physically. No, his dates were more on the physical side. That's why his sister teased him about dating only 36 Ds.
So why did he want to break his own rules with Jennifer?
"Maybe some night when we're both a little less busy," she said. "Right now, I'm swamped crunching numbers for the executive board and researching possible grants."
Part of him felt relieved that she didn't want to rush out to dinner with him, yet a more dangerous part of him wanted to reach across that desk and pull her to him and kiss her until her hair was mussed and her eyes were shadowed with passion.
He'd like to clear her desk with a sweep of his arm and lay her across the wooden desktop, pull her skirt up and lose himself in her moist heat.
This woman was far too alluring for him to explore anything more than mental pleasures with. For he knew he would enjoy sexual pleasure with her, and feared the combination of the two could lead to serious involvement. A state he avoided at all costs.
"Sounds like you're trying to lose me," he said.
She smiled. "Hardly. Now is just not a good time."
He let his gaze travel over her smart business suit and her blonde hair worn up in a twist with curls around her face. She seemed so pristine, so proper, but her blue eyes radiated with a sensual heat that left his breath short. No, she wasn't brushing him off. She definitely felt this passion simmering between the two of them.
"Let's make a promise to each other," he said. "Once we have fifty percent of the money raised, we'll return to Randi's Steakhouse and celebrate."
"It's a date, Dr. Moulton."
#
On Tuesday, Jennifer glanced up as Brent walked through the door. Her pulse accelerated as he smiled at her and she had to remind herself he was fifteen minutes late. She sat at the head of the table in the main conference room, chairing the first fund-raising committee meeting.
"You've been asked to participate on this committee because of your past experience in helping the hospital raise money. Except for Dr. Moulton, who, as head of the pediatrics department, will be very involved in all aspects of this project."
He smiled at her and nodded as he took a seat at the conference table. He looked particularly handsome today, dressed in a cream shirt with a Winnie the Pooh tie. Silly, but she knew his patients would adore the tie and remember him for his absurdity.
Brent was full of contrasts, and that intrigued her.
She tried to keep her mind on the subject at hand, but somehow she kept noticing little things about Brent. How large his hands were, the way she perceived his distinct scent though two people sat between them. The way his broad shoulders filled out the dress shirt and the rippling of his muscles through the cotton.
"We expect the overall cost of the project to be around ninety million dollars." A collective gasp filled the room. "The executive board has agreed on several fund-raisers that we're going to hold, and we've been given a goal of obtaining eight million dollars."
"Eight million dollars! No way," Brent said unexpectedly, surprising her. His green eyes flashed with disbelief. “That’s too much.”
"That's almost ten percent," someone to her left said, stunned.
Jennifer raised her hand to halt the conversation.
"Keep in mind that a lot of that money will come from drug companies, corporations, and some of our more influential citizens. Chairman Weaver has already raised more than three million
dollars on his own, and we know that more donations will be coming in. I anticipate that our part will be approximately two million dollars."
Brent laughed. "That’s better, but still, how can you expect us to raise two million dollars in an economically depressed rural town?"
"Well, Dr. Moulton, it's either raise the two million dollars or give up some of the items on your very lengthy wish list."
He frowned at her, and she could tell he didn't appreciate her response.
Jennifer gently reminded Brent and the committee members, "I suggest that we attempt to raise as much money as possible before we admit defeat and start cutting some of the items on the wish list."
Brent watched her, his brows drawn together, his green eyes alert, but didn't say anything.
"The executive committee and I came up with these suggestions: Building Bucks for employees to buy food, gas, gifts and eat out on. The retailers would give us up to ten percent of all profits. If we have at least seventy-five percent participation, we could anticipate collecting almost a hundred thousand dollars in the next year." She paused. "Memorial bricks. For five hundred dollars, a family can purchase a brick in a loved one's name to go on the memorial wall. If we sell five hundred of these, we could raise two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Brent leaned back. To the casual observer he wouldn’t appear to be paying attention, yet she could feel him watching her, which left her flushed and heated. He wet his lips, drawing her attention to the sensual fullness of his mouth. The memory of kissing those lips vibrated through her, and she stumbled over her words.
"And—and the last idea we had was a silent auction for goods local merchants donate. If we do this right, we could raise approximately a hundred thousand dollars."
"On a silent auction? Are we going to auction off gold bricks?" Brent asked sarcastically, sitting straight up.
"No, we'll get the local stores to donate different items. Maybe a couple of travel agencies will offer vacations. We'll approach the mall about jewelry and maybe a fur coat or two. It'll all add up."
"We need something more adult. Something edgier that will draw in people. Lots of people," Taylor, an anesthesiology nurse who gave Brent a come-hither look, contributed.
Jennifer ignored the woman.
"You're going to need a lot of free trips to Cancun to raise a hundred thousand dollars," Brent acknowledged.
"What attracts people?" one of the members asked.
"Sex," Taylor said, uninhibited.
Everyone laughed at the ribald comment.
"This is small-town America. I don't think so," Jennifer said.
"Bake sales?" an older woman from the administration offered.
"That's an awful lot of cookies, and if I'm going to Cancun, I'm not buying any," Brent commented.
The anesthesiology nurse smiled. "You know I read the other day that forty-five percent of our employees are single. Why not a bachelor auction?"
"That sounds like fun!" one of the secretaries replied.
"Single men and women, even some local celebrities could bring in a lot of quick cash. Bid for your next date."
"That's barbaric," Jennifer replied, thinking they couldn't be serious. "Not to mention unprofessional and detrimental to the hospital’s image."
"If it helps us reach our goal, what does it matter how we get there," Brent said. "As long as it’s legal."
"No," she insisted, fearing she was losing control of the meeting. "We have to maintain the hospital's image."
He made a face at her. "Come on. Are you telling me you wouldn’t accept a date with Ryan Gosling?"
"No," she lied. "I'm choosy about who I date!"
He paused and grinned. "That's good to hear, but I'd jump at the chance for a date with Pamela Anderson or Claudia Schiffer. I'm just looking to have some fun."
Somehow she felt like his last sentence was a message for her. He just wanted to have some fun.
"Excuse me, Dr. Moulton, but I'm really not interested in your dating preferences. I'm trying to establish good fund-raising opportunities for the hospital."
"We both want the same thing," he said.
"Yes, but we're going about it in different ways."
A grin split his face. She could tell he enjoyed seeing her under pressure. "That being said, I'm not going to subject this hospital to ridicule from the press for hosting something that seems outdated and could possibly hurt the hospital's image."
For a moment the room was silent as she gazed around the table at each person. "Now, we're going to have a nice silent auction, maybe even a bake sale or two. And I'll be looking for a restaurant that will donate their catering service for that night."
Brent smiled at her and shook his head. "You're going to come up short on capital."
"Please try to remain positive, Dr. Moulton," she responded, trying to carefully hide her irritation.
Jennifer glanced down at her watch. "We're quickly running out of time, and I know you all are very busy. I need a couple of volunteers to take on each one of these projects. Mainly you will be working with me to help get the message out to the employees and ask for their help. Do I have any volunteers?"
Jennifer hurriedly scribbled the volunteers’ names down while Brent sat, his arms folded, his smile replaced with a frown. He didn't say a word, but from the determined set of his jaw, his mood was not hard to discern.
"Okay everyone, I'll get in touch with you individually. Our next committee meeting will be in two weeks. Thanks for coming today."
Chairs rolled away from the conference table as people stood and began to hurry out the door. All except Brent, who remained seated in his chair staring at her. They sat like opponents at opposite ends of the long conference table.
She closed her leather notebook, zipping up her notes inside, taking her time before she looked at Brent. When she glanced up, his eyes, dark and serious, caused a trembling deep in her stomach.
"You know, the bachelor auction could be a lot of fun if you'd consider it. We would get plenty of publicity, and I think if you'd just give it a chance, we could raise a lot of money."
"So I'm supposed to go before the very stuffy chairman of the board and present him the idea of auctioning off men and women on stage? Should they wear a G-string? How about romance novel cover models? Or even better a couple of centerfolds?" she asked sarcastically.
He just stared at her, not responding.
"Are you trying to get me fired?"
"It could be done tastefully," he acknowledged, his voice low, his words slow and precise.
"I'm not willing to take the chance."
"No, you've closed your mind against the idea. I could line up a star-studded list and you'd still turn me down. I never thought that a woman who jumped out of coffins in seductive clothing could be so rigid."
Ooh…she resisted the urge to throw something at the mulish doctor. Instead, she smiled, determined not to let him see how his remark affected her.
"Well, you've forgotten that my sister was the one who was supposed to sing at your party, not me."
"Oh, no. I haven't forgotten," he said his voice dropping, his eyes focused on her, stirring something deep within her. "When I close my eyes at night, I still see that long, sexy, black dress. I smell your sweet perfume and feel your lips beneath mine. And I think how much I enjoyed seeing your body swaying to the music. Only this time, I dream we're alone and you're dancing for me."
Jennifer’s body could have busted thermometers, she felt so hot at Brent’s remarks. She stood, needing to escape from the man and the sensations he created within her.
Her senses exploded with awareness. God she still wanted him!
"The meeting is over, Dr. Moulton."
She picked up her iPad and walked out of the conference room, determined not to respond to the erotic image he'd just created. She’d gone from annoyed to aroused in less than a minute, and the quick fluctuation in her emotions left her disturbed.
Why did she let th
e man get to her?
Chapter Four
Five days later, Jennifer stood at Brent’s front door wishing the last time they’d spoken things had been different. She was in charge of the fund-raising activities of County General, and she wasn’t about to risk her job and the reputation of the hospital on a bachelor auction. Not even for Brent Moulton.
Yet here she stood on his doorstep, nervous, unsure of his reaction to seeing her. Maybe she would get lucky and he wouldn’t even open the door.
When his pregnant secretary had phoned and told her of his illness, she could hardly refuse the woman’s request to bring him the care package his office had put together for him. After all, pregnant women should never be around people infected with chicken pox, and even though Jennifer’s pride was smarting, she couldn’t let the young woman take the risk.
But even worse, she’d eagerly taken on the care package project and added items she thought he would like or need, putting in extra time and energy as if she cared for him.
So here she stood on his doorstep with her hands full, pressing his doorbell.
She heard him yell. “I thought I told you not to come over,” he shouted through the closed door. “I’m still contagious.”
“I’m immune,” Jennifer yelled back.
She saw movement through the small decorative window. “Open up the door before I drop everything.”
He cracked the door open. “Sorry, I thought you were my sister. What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like? I’m bringing you food,” she replied,
“You’re certain you won’t come down with the chicken pox?”
She pushed open the door with her foot, determined to get into the house before he made his decision on whether or not to let her in.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” she retorted, walking right past him. “I took the vaccine when the hospital offered it to us.”
My Sister's Boyfriend (The Trouble With Twins 1) Page 5