Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,21

Slow her down. Stop what was rapidly becoming an unfunny farce.

Why hadn’t I planned better for this? I wasn’t prepared for all these old feelings, for everything to resurface as soon as I laid eyes on her. I hadn’t anticipated the undertow that robbed my mind of all rational thought and stole my power of speech.

I trailed her down the corridors, closing my nose against the all-too-familiar hospital smell, the antiseptic bite, and did my best to suppress my memories of this place.

It was far more pleasant to divert my awareness to Zora’s legs in heels.

The engineer in me appreciated how all the disparate components collaboratively powered the engine of her sexy gait. Shapely legs, strong calves, the artificial stretch of her feet, the deep, natural arch of her back. It all produced the hip-dipping, captivating sway of her ass.

Hypnotizing.

I attempted to redirect my gaze. It didn’t work. I needed a distraction from the seductive metronome of her hips.

“Which department is your lab set up in, exactly?”

She glanced back at me, her expression flat. “A few places.”

Yep. This was going well.

“Listen, it’s not my intent to impose. I told Nellie I’d be fine just chatting over a cup of coffee, but she insisted I come see your setup.”

Dear God, was I tattling on Nellie?

She didn’t look back, but I caught the drift of her words as we neared the end of the floor. “It’s fine. No problem. I want you to have whatever you need to get your project off the ground.”

And leave, was the clear subtext.

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me, taking care to avoid the tiny, scrubs-clad woman who detoured around me with a scowl. I wasn’t a fan of hospitals. Especially this one. But I could admit that as hospitals went, this one wasn’t awful. Abundant light filtered into the hallway through tall windows. High-gloss hardwood floors and framed art of smiling patients contributed to the somewhat cheerful environment.

It was cheery enough that I wasn’t immediately reminded of the night I’d rushed to this hospital after my mother’s car accident. That visit hadn’t been too bad. Scary as hell, but she’d recovered. Although . . . had she? The pain from her bad back had never really subsided. That pain had led us on down a terrible path and another visit to the ER that changed our lives forever.

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate. Couldn’t afford to let the past distract me.

Signs marked the end of the hospital and the entrance to the professional building. I moderated my long stride to match her short, deliberate one. After a tense elevator ride in which we both stared ahead at the reflective interior of the doors in complete silence, we finally reached a mostly-full waiting room comprised of women and one lone man. I had a brief impression of brightly colored posters demonstrating various stages of pregnancy and advertising baby paraphernalia before we were on the other side of door, stopping at the nurses’ station.

“Hey, Sarah.” Zora greeted a slender, red-headed woman in scrubs with a smile.

How easily she thawed for someone else.

“Zora.” The woman’s eyes widened as she took me in, then moved back to Zora as she approached us. “Hey, girl! Did I miss something? Did you have a patient recording on the schedule?”

“No. I just came by to show off our setup.”

Sarah enveloped Zora in a hug. I watched with interest as the hug lasted for more than several seconds with Sarah whispering something in Zora’s ear. Zora murmured something I didn’t catch in response.

“Well, I’m happy to see you, no matter the reason.” Sarah held Zora out at arm’s length, grasping her by the shoulders. “No bribes today? Nothing from the Donner Bakery?”

“I’ll be ready next time. What do you guys want?”

“Rings of Fire,” an invisible voice supplied. I looked around and identified a white-coated man seated at the nurses’ desk as the source.

“I’m on it,” Zora said.

I had to look away from her smile.

That’s not for you.

“Do you . . . eat those?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Sounds like something you’d treat medicinally. At the other end.”

“They’re muffins.” Sarah laughed. “Damn good muffins. We keep saying we’re going to cut back but Zora keeps bringing them, so . . .”

“Right. Blame it on me.”

Sarah’s bold gaze dragged from my feet and back up to my face. “And who’s your friend here, Zora?” She smiled, slow and sly.

Zora deflated a bit. “This is Mr. Rossi,” she said. All warmth evaporated