The Boss and Nurse Albright Read Online Free Page A

stepped away. After a brief glance in René’s direction, he said, “Sorry to drag you into this.” Then he went back to his office.
    René stepped inside Claire’s office and closed the door. “He’s never offensive like that,” she whispered. “He’s sullen and moody, but never like that. I swear.”
    Claire studied her open-toed shoes, trying her best to figure out what had just happened. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I’m never like this, either. Please don’t hold this against me.”
    “Not at all.” René cupped Claire’s arms. “We want you here. We’re glad to have you. You’ve got to understand that Jason, well…” She hesitated, as if she didn’t know how much to disclose about the man.
    Who knew what his problem was? Perhaps he’d been through a rotten divorce like she had, and he held a grudge toward women the same way she did toward men. Maybe they had more in common than either would like to admit.
    “Jason,” René continued, brushing her hair behind her shoulder, “how should I put it…he leads a lonely life, and sometimes he forgets how to treat people. His patients love him, though, and he’s an incredibly good doctor. Just give him time.”
    “It’s apparent that he cares about his patients, I just wish he’d be a bit nicer to me. Hey, I’m a tough girl. I’ll live with this set-up. You know how much I want this to work out.”
    “Good, because he essentially owns the building and practice.”
    Claire’s throat dried up. Of all the people to pick a fight with. She needed to sit down. “I promise this will never happen again.”
    René nodded and offered a reassuring smile. “Now, did I hear right—this was about table salt?”
     
    Jason paced his office, exhilarated. A sensation he hadn’t experienced in a while. All because of an argument with Claire Albright? Albright—hah! She couldn’t have a more appropriate surname. Whenever she entered a room it brightened. She didn’t need to wear that becoming purple dress to make a lasting impression. All she had to do was smile. He remembered how taken aback he’d been when she’d smiled and introduced herself to him yesterday. He’d thought about her smile once or twice last night when he’d dined alone in his big and empty condo.
    So why did he feel compelled to chew off her head? Because she dared to approach his only remaining thread to life, his sacred craft of medicine, differently. Table salt and massages—what a bunch of bunk. Just the thought of it rankled him all over again.
    But there was something more to his reaction. She made him “feel” things. He’d stared into her eyes and felt his heartbeat pound in his neck when he’d argued with her. He’d been hot-tempered about what he’d said because it related to his patients and medical practice, the only thing left he cared about, and she’d thrown the passion right back in his face.
    And she smelled like cinnamon, which did crazy things to his line of thinking. He dug his fingers into his hair.
    Damn. The strangest notion overtook him. It made him pace.
    After four years in limbo, he almost felt alive.
    He came to a dead stop.
    He’d soon put an end to that “feeling” business, by avoiding her at every turn.
     
    The next morning, Claire entered her office before Jason had arrived. She needed to work up the courage to consult him about a plan to help the waiting room patients relax. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, and here she was with another plan, but she couldn’t back down. It had come to her in the middle of the night; something he’d said in a snide way about “next you’ll start aromatherapy” must have planted the idea in her subconscious. He’d absolutely hate it, but if her trial run worked out in the upstairs waiting room, she planned to suggest they try aromatherapy in the larger downstairs waiting room, too.
    If Jason owned the building, and he didn’t like her or her ideas, he could get rid of her without consulting