Now that you’ve met our heroine, it’s time to meet our hero. In this scene our heroine is attempting to unpack when there’s a knock at the door…guess who
She had managed to get her front rooms set up and decorated in two days. Thanks to the door separating the front of the house from the back, no clients would see the stacks of boxes she had piled in the large room, which served as both eat-in kitchen and living room. The bedrooms were upstairs and she had only unpacked enough to set up a bed and bathroom. She’d get the rest of the house done eventually, but unpacking was a process.
She pulled up another box when a knock sounded at the door. Another client? She dropped her scissors and tried to step over the pile in front of her. In her hurry, her toe caught on the edge and her collection of CDs cascaded across the floor. Rats. Crap.
Grabbing the shoes she’d slipped off, she bolted for the front of the house. She closed the partition door behind her as she scurried.
A quick glance into a small mirror on the wall in the foyer to be sure she was presentable. She straightened her pale peach blouse. The eyeliner chosen to accent her brown eyes hadn’t smudged. She smoothed her recently highlighted brown hair and quickly reset the combs that held it back. Professional. Competent.
Pulling open the door revealed the same policeman she had seen earlier. No evidence of the dog.
“Hello.” She stepped back so he could enter. Wow, he was cuter up close. A few inches taller than she. She caught the faint scent of leather and spice as he stepped into the foyer. It took a moment for her to say, “I’m Dr. Lester. What can I do for you?”
“Sheriff Holmes.” He removed his hat and glanced around. “Only you? Most doctors’ offices have at least one support staff.”
She had to be a professional. He could be here for counseling. No need to tell him that she couldn’t afford more than one phone line either. “Only me for now. I’ll be placing an ad soon.”
He nodded. “Once business picks up and you can afford it.”
Was she so transparent? “How can I help you today, Sheriff?”
He strolled into the waiting room. Everything seemed to interest him. He studied the paintings, the curtains and even considered the couch a moment before turning to meet her gaze again.
At a distance this morning, she had the liberty of enjoying the view of his obviously well toned body in his incredibly sexy uniform. For some reason, his magnetism up close made her uncomfortable. It might have had something to do with his intense green eyes. She stepped to the side of an easy chair and placed her hands on the back of it, both as support for her weak knees and to keep from leaning in too close. What’s wrong with me?
“So what prompted you to set up shop here? Do you have family or friends that live in town?” he asked.
“My college roommate, Meranda, grew up here. She talked about it so much that when it came time to start my practice, I couldn’t think of a better place. Plus there was a trust for the women of my family, and the paperwork that the lawyer—”
“Conrad Wingate. Tiny guy, talks a mile a minute.”
“Yes, that’s him. He said that I would only get the money for college when I’d kept my practice here in town for a year. Not a terrible compromise.” She wanted to expand on how exciting, nerve-racking and borderline terrifying it was starting a business. How her mother disapproved and started the silent treatment the day she moved her things into this house. She wanted to tell him everything, but she controlled herself. No need to frighten the poor sheriff.