Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hannah entered the lobby of the health center and stopped dead in her tracks, arrested by the sight in front of her. Raúl caught her eye and waved her over, and she found her feet carrying her closer against her will.
Next to the building manager stood a sandy-haired man, tall and broad-shouldered. Despite the constrictive suit he wore, the man’s build spoke of power and raw masculinity, his muscular arms and legs straining against the material.
Her gaze slid over his chest and up to his angular face. His hair was military short, with just enough on top to run fingers through the silky strands. Hazel eyes sat over high cheekbones, and a neatly trimmed beard covered the lower half of his jaw.
Hannah typically opted for the men she dated to be clean-shaven, but the facial hair on this man seemed appropriate, as if it enhanced his features rather than detracting from them.
He was too rugged to be considered traditionally handsome, but he was gorgeous in a rough sort of way.
He looked as if he could bench press her with one arm, and her blood ran hot at the thought of his hands all over her.
She had little experience with men of his caliber—okay, none—but she knew instinctively that he would know exactly how to treat a woman.
He exuded confidence, an arrogance she imagined most men of his stature exhibited, and she wondered what it would feel like to have that rapt attention focused on her.
The thought simultaneously thrilled and irked her, because a man like him would surely have a girlfriend who was just as beautiful. A twinge of jealousy curdled in her gut, and she clenched her teeth, pushing the useless emotion away and replacing it instead with cool aloofness.
As she approached the duo, the man flashed her a smile, his teeth perfectly straight and white against his deeply tanned cheeks. The action made her self-conscious of her own slightly crooked incisors, and she pressed her lips into a tight line.
Irritation flared again at the sight of the insolent grin twisting his lips. It was a smile designed to draw women in and make them lose all sense as they flung themselves at him. Oh, yes. This man was used to getting whatever—and whomever—he wanted.
Hannah gritted her teeth. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him to get under her skin and undermine her confidence without so much as a word.
He meant nothing; he was probably just being interviewed for the security position.
Once he left, she’d tell Raúl that the man wouldn’t be a good fit.
Then she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.
Raúl spoke up as she came within a couple of feet of them. “Dr. Whitmore, this is Lucas Stone with Vantage Security Group.”
The man held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Call me Luke.”
Hannah bristled, narrowing her eyes at him as she offered a brief handshake. “Doctor Whitmore.”
After almost ten years in the South, she still wasn’t used to the precipitous use of the word ma’am.
She knew it was supposed to be a sign of respect, but the man’s tone had an almost mocking quality to it.
If the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was any indication, he clearly found her indignation humorous.
She didn’t normally think so highly of herself, but he had her on guard.
Better to distance herself now and put him in his place.
She steeled her spine and stared him down.
His eyes twinkled with mirth, but his face remained impassive, stoking her ire.
Good thing he wouldn’t be around long; otherwise, they were bound to butt heads.
Raúl interrupted her thoughts. “Mr. Stone will resume duties beginning Monday.”
Hannah startled, and her mouth dropped open a fraction. “I’m sorry?”
The building manager nodded. “I’ll get him a set of keys, so you can lock up like normal when you leave for the evening. We’ve been discussing the option of installing cameras at each entrance, as well as in the elevator and on each floor.”
Luke opened his mouth, but she cut in and spoke over him.
“Clearly, Mr. Stone, you are aware of the sensitive nature of my work. It would be an infringement of my patient’s rights to track them all over the building.
” Again, his mouth opened to speak, but she continued.
“They need to feel comfortable here, not like prisoners.”
She turned to Raúl. “I will not consent to cameras. Besides, they seem to be a completely unnecessary expense if Mr. Stone here”—she gestured to the man to her right—“is truly as competent as he says he is.”
She felt more than saw his look of disdain, and she kept her gaze firmly on Raúl as Luke spoke up. “I assure you, ma’am, I am completely capable of securing a single building.”
There was no mistaking the derision in his voice this time, and she cut a glare at him as he continued. “However, in my experience, it’s better to have too many precautions in place rather than too few. I was led to believe that a call was made to you from a recent crime scene. Is that correct?”
His hazel eyes burned into hers, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, but—”
“Then it would appear,” he cut in, “that you could potentially be in danger. I don’t know the how or why of it, Doctor Whitmore, but I am here to prevent anyone from harming you.”
She notched her chin up a degree. “And what qualifications do you have, exactly?”
Condescension flickered in the hazel depths of his eyes as he regarded her. “I’ve been trained in a range of weapons as well as hand-to-hand combat.”
“That’s—”
“In addition to that,” he barreled over her, “I also completed four tours as a US Marine where I served in the Special Forces. I’ve been to thirty-two countries and am equipped to navigate any terrain and survive in any condition so, yes, I believe I am. Ma’am.”
Infuriating man. She bit her tongue and clenched her hands into tight fists as he tacked on that last parting shot.
She refused to let the man rile her. Since Raúl had obviously already offered Luke the position, she would just have to suck it up and avoid him at all costs. She lifted her chin and stared at him.
“Fine. I expect you to leave my office alone during business hours unless you are expressly requested to intervene. I will accede to cameras in the elevator and main access points, but none on my floor, nor in my office. Will that be a problem for you, Mr. Stone?”
His only response was a curt shake of his head, his eyes cold and hard.
“Have a nice day.” Without another word, she strode across the lobby, opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator.
Stomping up the five flights of stairs, she willed her anger to abate.
Instead, it only grew. She briefly considered calling Raúl that afternoon and having him replace Mr. Stone, but that would appear too suspicious.
Better to wait a few days, make a complaint about his behavior or work ethic, then have Luke’s company send a new guard in his stead.
Decision made, she reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the heavy steel door before stepping into the hallway.
The door to her office was just to her left, and the soft, calming notes of lavender and vanilla greeted her as she unlocked the door and stepped into the lobby.
It was a technique she’d employed shortly after opening her own practice.
The subtle scent made patients feel welcome and relaxed before they even stepped foot into her office.
For first-timers, it was incredibly important for them to feel comfortable.
In addition, she wore a light vanilla fragrance to blend harmoniously with the atmosphere.
She wanted the office to feel homey, so they replaced the fragrance each week to keep it fresh.
She’d also opted for comfy, overstuffed couches and chairs rather than standard, office-issue furniture.
Abstract paintings in jewel tones hung on the walls, and the large picture window highlighted the beautiful cityscape of northern Miami.
She unlocked the staff door as she passed, then made her way to the end of the hall to her own office. Located in the corner of the building, there were windows on two walls, allowing the bright morning light to filter in.
The room itself was a large square, with her desk situated directly across from the door.
A couch took up most of the right wall, and two large armchairs sat to the left of the desk in a cozy nook, flanking the other window.
Bookshelves covered every inch of free wall space, books and journals stacked two-deep in some places.
She typically loved coming in here, but even the sight of her perfect little space couldn’t raise her spirits after that altercation in the lobby.
Striding to the desk, she sank into the chair and fired up her computer, tilting the monitor away from the glare of sunlight streaming through the window behind her. Today’s schedule was pretty light, thank goodness, with only two appointments that morning and one that afternoon.
After almost two years in her own practice, she was finally getting to the point where she could take cases on a selective basis. Her clientele had grown steadily over the past couple of years, and through word of mouth, she’d been able to steadily develop her patient list.
Out of college, she’d interned with a local group but had ultimately decided to move on.
She learned a lot during her time with the Wellness Group, but she had principles and ideals that she preferred to focus on.
She’d begun scouting the outlying areas of Miami close to the suburbs where real estate was less expensive when she’d found this little gem.
A friend of hers, Dr. Audrey Stanton, had an office in the same building.
Audrey and Hannah had met in their second year at the University of Florida, where they shared several of the same classes.
They’d become fast friends, and although Audrey had ultimately decided on family medicine, they remained close.
As soon as one of the offices had opened up in Audrey’s building, she had called and told Hannah to come check it out.
It was love at first sight. The five-story white stucco building was perfect, and the small office on the top floor was the icing on the cake.
The space was small since the fifth story was divided into two areas, the other reserved for some use dictated by the owner.
It was the perfect size to venture out on her own, and she’d signed the lease less than a week later.
The first six months had been difficult.
A handful of patients had followed her, but like most who attended counseling, several stayed for only a few sessions before moving on or giving up.
She’d spent the first few months trying to drum up business while running the office alone.
She was almost at the end of her rope when she hired Fiona.
A cast-off from the building, Fiona had been let go after fifteen years of service to Dr. William Harbaugh, one of the most pretentious, supercilious men to ever walk the earth.
Hannah had learned of his reputation within days of moving into the building, and she avoided the old curmudgeon at all costs.
She’d met Fiona only a handful of times before that fateful day when they’d shared the elevator down to the lobby of the building.
The older woman had a box of knickknacks tucked under one arm and a small potted palm in the other.
Tear tracks marked her cheeks, and Hannah had offered to buy her lunch at a nearby café.
Two hours later, she had a new receptionist and the right hand she never knew she was missing. Fiona ran a tight ship and kept everything running smoothly. She also wasn’t afraid to tell Hannah exactly what she thought, offering her opinions freely and without restraint.
A soft click of the door in the lobby heralded said receptionist’s arrival. Hannah waited patiently for the woman to make her way back and give a rundown of her morning. It didn’t take long.
Fiona breezed into Hannah’s office moments later and collapsed on the couch to her left, fanning her face dramatically. “Lordy be, girl, did you see that slice of Heaven disguised as a man downstairs?”
Hannah rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look away from the email she’d opened. “I assume you’re referring to the arrogant jerk the security company sent over this morning?”
“He seemed nice enough to me.” Fiona lifted a pencil-thin brow Hannah’s way. “Did you have a run-in with Mr. Stone already?”
A flush of embarrassment crept over Hannah’s skin. “No, he just seems like the type.”
In truth, she really had no idea why Lucas Stone irked her so much. There was no one thing in particular that bothered her; it was just… him. He seemed arrogant, self-assured, and he was definitely more handsome than any man had a right to be—and he knew it.
But that wasn’t a crime. The more she thought about it, the more she began to think she was just being extra sensitive. The guy would be there for a few weeks until the cops figured out who had murdered the girl downtown, then he would be on his way.
Until then, she would just ignore him… and all of the unwelcome feelings he stirred within her.