Rockstar Baby Daddy (Small Town Doctors #5)

1. Suzie

Suzie

“D ammit.” With an annoyed sigh, I sat back in my office chair and stared down at the offensive mustard stain on my red blouse. “So much for a quick lunch before my meeting.”

I had taken my time before work this morning, choosing the right outfit for my meeting with a mysterious VIP client this afternoon. I wanted to look like the capable, sophisticated administrator who ran Jackson’s Ridge Medical Center efficiently, not the frumpy woman who had fallen into the job.

And I’d been taken out by mustard. Not even Dijon or whole-grain mustard, but plain old yellow mustard, because I was a plain old yellow mustard kind of girl. But now I was also a girl desperately in need of a new shirt. So instead of hiding in my office until two-thirty, I got out of my chair, squared my shoulders, and went in search of the medical center’s resident fashionista.

“Persy, oh, thank goodness. I’m glad you’re not having lunch with Ryan today.” The best friends had recently gotten together and often mysteriously disappeared during lunchtime.

Persy, or Dr. Persephone Vanguard, looked up from her tablet with an arched dark brow and a smile. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. I’m in need of the kind of help only you can provide.” Slowly, I let my arms fall from my chest until the stain was visible.

Persy gasped and shook her head. “Too bad, that blouse is beautiful on you. Red is definitely your color.” She tapped her chin and then stood. “I have two options.”

“Thank you!”

Persy let out a small laugh. “Don’t thank me yet, you might hate both.”

“Doesn’t matter if I hate them or not, I need a clean shirt before two.” I told her all about the upcoming VIP meeting in the conference room. “I need to appear as capable as I am, not as capable as I look.”

She handed me a garment bag with two shirts inside, violet eyes filled with excitement. “VIP? That’s kind of cool. Oooo, maybe it’s a politician or a mobster, or one of those third-world dictators.”

I rolled my eyes. “No pressure, right?”

“None at all. Here, try the lavender.”

I stared at the silk blouse with the tie neck and shook my head. “You don’t think this color will wash me out? And what about the tie neck? I already have a long neck.”

“It’s called a graceful neck, Suzie. Like a ballerina.” Persy shook her head and sighed. “The lavender will highlight what’s left of the tan you got working on those low-income homes destroyed by the summer storms. Just try it.”

I took the blouse and replaced my functional, stained red blouse for Persy’s silky lavender one. “You’re right about the color.” I didn’t look pale at all; my skin had a nice late-summer glow that made me smile. The tie neck wasn’t all that flattering, but it wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be. “You have such a wonderful sense of style, Persy. How do you do it?”

“A childhood spent devouring fashion magazines? I like clothes and all the things they can do for your confidence, and how you see yourself.” She gripped my shoulders and turned me until we were face to face. “You need to tie these a little more carefully, symmetry is key. And anytime you want a shopping makeover, you know where to find me.”

A few swift movements and the tie neck looked… good.

I arched a brow at her. “Ryan’s office?”

The pink bloomed on her cheeks and I laughed. “Or mine.” She winked at my shocked expression and turned me toward the mirror stuck to the back of her office door.

The shirt did look good, and I sighed in relief. “It’s perfect, Persy. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks.” I would need it because these VIP types always thought they could come in and dictate the kind of care they received. I had worked hard over the past few years to make JRMC the kind of medical center that people sought out, hiring doctors and surgeons who were at the top of their field and who continued research that allowed them to pursue new techniques and treatments for a variety of illnesses. JRMC was my baby in every sense of the word, and I would protect it the same as any mama bear.

Fifteen minutes before the meeting was due to start, I made my way to the larger of our two conference rooms and set out information packets on the hospital, including our lineup of doctors and physicians, their impressive backgrounds, and our latest cutting-edge equipment. A knock sounded and a moment later, a handsome man with slicked-back hair and a three-piece suit entered.

“Dr. Suzie Wright?”

I stood tall and squared my shoulders with a friendly nod. “That’s me.”

The man stepped inside, the king-of-the-world vibes strong in his presence, his deep voice, and his expensive suit, complete with a pocket square that matched his tie. “I’m Alex Storm.” He held out a big hand that felt more manicured than my own. “The agent.”

Agent. That meant the VIP was an actor or musician, most likely. Or a politician, as I’d learned last year they often have agents, too. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Storm. And your client is … where?” Everything about this person had been very hush-hush for weeks—they’d refused to disclose an identity or even a medical problem, which was damned annoying.

“He should be here momentarily.” Alex Storm took a seat in front of one of the packets, his deep blue eyes settled on me as if waiting for me to sit. “Before he arrives, I’d like to discuss treatment options.”

I held up a hand to stop his flow of words. “It’s best if we wait until the actual patient arrives.”

His dark brows dipped in confusion. “But I’m his agent.”

“I understand that, but since you refused to give me any details about this client, we have no release forms indicating who we can and cannot share sensitive medical information with, and until we do, it’s best we wait for your client.”

He grumbled something under his breath and glanced at his watch. “Fine,” he growled and pulled a sleek black phone from his inside pocket. The phone rang—on speaker—five times and Alex ended the call just before the voice message kicked in.

Privacy, indeed.

Three o’clock rolled around and I was starting to feel anxious. At three-fifteen, I stood, fully prepared to reschedule this meeting for when the actual patient could be bothered to show up. But at three-sixteen, the door opened suddenly and with enough force that it smacked against the wall, and the client appeared. And he wasn’t just any client. Hell, he wasn’t just any musician.

He was Gavin Ross—rock star, sex symbol, humanitarian extraordinaire. The man who had starred in too many of my sexual fantasies over the years.

The man I’d arrogantly put on my Hall Pass list during every relationship I’d ever had.

Gavin Ross was in my conference room, aiming that killer, panty-scorching smile in my direction. For a moment, I was struck speechless by his beauty, his magnetic appeal without even saying a word. And on the heels of my girlish speechlessness came another emotion. Anger.

“Glad you could finally make it, Mr. Ross.” Wow, that was impressively bitchy. I’d never been able to pull it off before now, and I stood a little taller, feeling proud.

Surprised flashed in Gavin’s eyes before a sheepish smile appeared. He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his worn, thigh-hugging denim. The muscles of his forearms, biceps, and triceps bulged, highlighting the details of the colorful sleeve of tattoos on his right arm and the light blue guitar pick that decorated his left. Too damn sexy.

“I’m sorry about the tardiness, but it couldn’t be helped. Car trouble.”

“I’m sure you have a very good reason, Mr. Ross, but yours isn’t the only time that matters here.” I took my seat at the head of the table, leaving the seat beside his agent empty for him.

“Ryan Branson picked me up on the side of the road and gave me a lift back to the shop.” His words and the fact that he’d dropped Ryan’s name gave his story a ring of truth. And it explained why Persy was available during her lunch hour.

“All right, then. Let’s talk about why you’re here.” It was clear from their urgency and need for secrecy that there was indeed a problem, but without specifics, I couldn’t help. The prolonged silence made me squirm in my seat, and as my discomfort grew, so did my annoyance. They were the ones who called for this meeting. “What exactly has brought you to Jackson’s Ridge?”

Gavin let out an exhausted sigh that served to humanize him, make him seem normal. Approachable. One hand unconsciously slid to his throat and then Gavin sat back in defeat. “Do we really have to talk about all that right now?”

His fear and his anxiety only made him more human, dammit.