He stared out across the open waters. “Going with an independent architect as opposed to a small or even midsized firm is risky. Liza is going to have fewer resources, and since she recently moved to the area, I’m sure she won’t have the construction contacts that a full-services firm would.”
“She’s a smart woman who will navigate her way quickly. She designed my home. You can trust her.”
“I don’t know, Doc.” Anthony shrugged, lifting a fistful of sand and watching the granules slip through to the ground below.
“Tell you what. If you hire her, I’ll pay her fee. The entire thing.”
Anthony sucked in a breath and whistled “That’s very generous of you, Doc, and possibly, very stupid.”
“Not at all. I believe in you. I believe in her. Someday, so will you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think quickly.”
“So what’s on your plate for the rest of the day? Besides making me feel guilty.”
Doc chuckled. “No patients today. Just me, a good book and a glass of chardonnay under the umbrella by my beautiful, sparkling pool. And you?”
“Sleeping, and then back to the hospital later this afternoon. I’m thinking about taking a drive out to the construction site tomorrow morning.”
“Oh? Take Liza. You won’t regret it.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Anthony replied, rubbing his temple.
Doc laughed. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Anthony ended the call and grimaced, suddenly remembering the sweet, caring tone of Liza’s voice when she’d asked him if he was happy.
The question had come out of the blue, and he had to admit, he’d been pondering it ever since.
Happy?
For the most part he was. He had plenty of money, a great career and a small group of close friends. Plus, he was about to embark on a brand-new adventure, building and owning his own business, something he’d dreamed about for years.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and inhaled the salty air into his lungs. The beach was empty at this hour except for seagulls dive-bombing the ocean for their breakfast, and Anthony couldn’t have been happier at the lack of human beings in close proximity.
Bay Point was a small town, and everyone seemed to either know him personally or know about him. While it was great for attracting new patients, it was terrible for maintaining privacy.
Not that he’d had much of a personal life lately.
Kneeling down, he scooped up a handful of sand, brought it in for closer inspection. The color was unusual: pale beige flecked with bits of white, green and black. He couldn’t have counted the number of grains even if he’d had the desire or the time. But he could count the number of times he’d walked along this beach with a woman.
“Zero,” he muttered to himself, as he stood up and angrily pitched the sand back into the Pacific.
Yet, he’d chosen to spend his nights alone.
His demanding schedule had made it nearly impossible to sustain a long-distance relationship with his former girlfriend in Miami, when he’d first moved to Bay Point six years ago. She’d complained that he was more devoted to his career than to her.
Yet even when the relationship was over, he had little interest in pursuing another one, despite the seductive looks he regularly received from local women. That was just asking for trouble in a town like Bay Point, which seemed to thrive on gossip, rumors and innuendos.
Anthony didn’t have time to fall in love—with any woman, let alone Liza Sinclair.
Lust, maybe. But love?
He brushed the sand from his shorts, dismissing the thought, and put his shirt back on.
Love was for men with nine-to-five careers, not for men like him. Building his clinic and serving his patients were all that mattered. Falling in love with Liza—or any woman for that matter—was not part of his plan.
Liza eased her white pickup onto the gravel and braked in front of an abandoned motel. Judging by the broken windows, chipped plaster and the weed-choked parking lot, the Sunray Inn hadn’t had any travelers in years.
She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and carefully rubbed her eyes, so as to not disturb her mascara.
“Too bad this place isn’t still open,” she muttered under her breath. “I could use a few more hours of sleep. These morning meetings are killing me.”
The doors were covered in signs with faded red lettering warning would-be criminals and the curious that the structure was condemned and that trespassing would be punishable by law. The largest sign of all declared that the place was SOLD. As tired as she was, just seeing that one word energized her at the prospect of seeing the new owner.
Dr. Marbet had occupied her thoughts for the past few days. Some positive, some negative and some deliciously naughty, and yet, all were colored by the cold, hard, truth.
The design project wasn’t hers.
Not yet.
Liza scowled and leaned her chin on the steering wheel. Her fingers grazed her scar, reminding her it was there, and that she wasn’t perfect.
As if she needed a reminder at all.
She blew out a breath. Competition be damned.
Over a sleepless night or two, she had come to the conclusion that she would refuse to dwell on the negative. On the what-ifs. And on the fact that Dr. Marbet was more than just a figment of some 2 a.m. fantasy: he was the key to fulfilling her dreams.
Liza popped in a breath mint to remove the scent of her early-morning coffee, opened the door and stepped out of her vehicle.
“Ow!”
She looked down and saw that the heel of her high wedge sandals had hit a medium-sized rock. Ignoring the urge to kick the blasted thing away, she leaned her hip against her truck and bent at the waist to massage her throbbing ankle.
Moments later, she heard the squashy crunch of tires on gravel fast approaching.
A truck pulled up next to her, swirling a cloud of dust into her face. It was the same model as hers, but it was black and in better condition.
Straightening, she braced her hip against her vehicle and started to cough.
Dr. Marbet hopped out and circled around his vehicle. “I’m sorry about driving in so fast. I saw you examining your foot, and it looked like you were in trouble.”
Her heart warmed at the concern etched on his face, but just as quickly, she realized that was his job. He was a doctor. He was supposed to care.
“No big deal, Dr. Marbet,” she choked out, struggling not to cough again. “I’m just going to die from gravel dust inhalation.”
“No you won’t. I’ll take care of you.”
His smile seemed genuine and his hand gently patted her on the back, amplifying the butterflies that had begun to swirl inside at his soft touch. It was gentle, yet deliberate, and she chalked that up to his bedside manner automatically kicking in.
As if responding to the perfect antidote, her urge to cough ceased almost immediately. The pleasurable sensations he invoked spread quickly throughout her body.
Moments later, he lifted his hand. “If we are