Page 377 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I was generally a chronic forgetter of all things that kept my life from devolving into some kind of rain-soaked hell, but every once in a while, I managed to act like a real adult. It probably had more to do with my extreme excitement over visiting Strand Bookstore, one of my favorite bookstores in the entire world, than anything else, though. The life of a book was important. I’d survive being waterlogged—a vintage copy of Pride and Prejudice would not.

As a long-term bibliophile, I found nothing excited me more than rows and rows of book-filled shelves and the oh so perfect vanilla musk of the ones that had lived a good, long life.

That made Strand Bookstore’s Rare Books Room my favorite place. A little gem with plush seats and the most eclectic and wonderful collection of all things vintage books, when I’d last visited, twelve long years ago, I’d managed to find an old cassette tape of Ernest Hemingway reading an excerpt from For Whom the Bell Tolls.

Tell me you didn’t just get chills.

Mystery, romance, women’s fiction, autobiographies, paperbacks, e-books, audio, I was a reader through and through. And anytime I could get my hands on something rare and vintage, one page of my book heart grew its wings.

My heels smacked against the pavement as I crossed the street, and a taxi turning right impatiently honked his horn. Pedestrian crosswalks be damned, apparently, this taxi driver was way more important than anyone else in the world.

I laughed to myself and ignored his frustration. Some people just weren’t worth the time or energy it took to get angry over something so small. Now, if he’d have run over me with this cab, I would have risen from the grave to stab the motherfucker. But sitting there, honking his horn, and most likely shouting profanities at me from the inside of his cab, wasn’t worth my ire.

My phone began to ring inside my purse, thankfully after I’d safely stepped onto the concrete and month-old gum of the sidewalk, and I bobbled my umbrella into my left hand as I snagged my cell with my right. After a quick glance at the screen, I answered by the third ring.

“Hello, Conrad,” I greeted the CEO of Kennedy Medical Center. “I was hoping to hear from you today.”

“Hey, Charlotte,” he responded. “Sorry it took me a bit to get back to you. I had to attend a last-minute conference in Denver.”

The smartass in me yelled, and they don’t have phones in Denver? But the woman who wanted to keep working and paying her bills and stuff kept her mouth shut and excused the inconvenience as if it were nothing. Plus, realistically, it’d only been about a day. As much as I wanted people to, they didn’t live on Charlotte Hollis time.

“No worries. I figured you were busy. Did you happen to read my email?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, I did.”

I’d been expecting this phone call, and this very reaction, since the second I’d clicked send on my carefully crafted email explaining that Dr. Raines had declined the position. Kennedy Medical Center really wanted Nick Raines. And fucking hell, how could I blame them?

I wanted the good-looking bastard too.

But I’d eventually make them realize Dr. Sylvia Morris would also be a perfect fit. Sure, she was a woman—something that factored into company decisions enough to make me want to gag—and she didn’t have Nick’s chocolate-brown eyes, but she wanted to relocate.

“I understand your preference was Dr. Raines, but I can assure you that I have an exceptional candidate that will meet and exceed your expectations,” I explained. “Dr. Sylvia Morris is a more than viable option for your hospital. She is a pioneer in her field and has over ten years of experience as the Chief of Neurosurgery at Cedars Ridge.”

“Hmm…Dr. Sylvia Morris…” He paused to clear his throat into the receiver. “She has over ten years’ experience?”

“Yes. She’s also done several viable trials of a tumor regeneration tieback that had a seventy-percent success rate in preventing reoccurrence. She is more than qualified for the position,” I stressed as I finished the short walk to Strand Bookstore. The mecca in sight, I found a clear spot and turned to rest my back against the building as I finished my phone conversation.

“Can you send her dossier over, and I’ll look through it?”

“Already done,” I answered. “I spoke with your assistant Patty this morning, and she has the files on her desk.”

“Fantastic,” Conrad responded. “Can we schedule a video conference with Dr. Morris later this week?”

Ah, he’s dropped the Sylvia. He’s seeing her as a candidate instead of a woman.

“Definitely. I’ll work with Patty and Dr. Morris and find a good time for all of us, and I’ll get it scheduled by the end of this week.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” he responded. “Oh, and just to let you know, I’ve already contacted CMI, and we would like you to help us with filling another position.”

I smiled. “I look forward to it.”

“Good to hear,” he responded, and a few moments later, he ended the call with a brief yet friendly goodbye.

Another headhunting assignment equaled job security. Not to mention, it was pretty damn fantastic when the CEO of a major LA hospital was so happy with the work you’d done for his organization that he requested you for future assignments.

Good job, Charlotte. I smiled to myself as I pushed through the doors of the bookstore, and took off my jacket to shake the rain out of it right in the entry—and far away from the pretties. My senses went into overdrive as I took in the gorgeous view—people browsing books, people reading books, people buying books. Just, books. A million different worlds resting between millions of pages and waiting to be explored.

I'd never been to heaven, but if I had to take a guess, this was what it looked like.