hospital or clinic. They needed help she could give, and her services were free.
Meanwhile, Claire was following her around, her lips pursed in thought and a mercenary look in her eye. “How sure are you that Roger’s straight?”
Amber blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected the woman to ask. But she answered anyway. “One hundred percent straight.”
“Prove it.”
“What? How?”
“Think you could get him to kiss you?”
Amber frowned. Well, she’d been fantasizing about just that possibility for weeks now. She’d even figured out a way to approach him, but she’d never thought she’d actually implement the plan. But Claire wasn’t to be deterred.
“I’ll bet you a double mochaccino that you can’t.”
Amber laughed. “I don’t drink coffee.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t. Okay, how about this? I’ll get you a half-dozen of those big vegan muffins that Mary loves.”
Ooh, now there was a temptation. Amber had heard about those muffins. And truthfully, she had been thinking about arranging a meeting with Roger Martell for a while now. She thought RFE’s product line was very interesting and knew Jack might be intrigued as well. Yes, Jack, her once best friend and—a very, very long time ago—her lover. They’d kept in touch over the last two years. He’d call and try and tempt her back to Mandolin. She’d never been interested before, but now, thanks to near poverty, she was beginning to consider it.
She could meet with Roger, arrange for the introduction with Jack, and use the conversation to discreetly find out how things stood at Mandolin. She didn’t really want to admit it, but two years as a rogue researcher was wearing on her. Maybe if things had changed at the hospital, she’d consider going back.
And if she managed to wrangle a kiss from Roger at the same time, well, a girl could dream. She’d been two years out in the cold in her sex life, too. She knew just how to attract his attention, although she’d have to dig to the very back of her closet to find the clothes. And God only knew what had happened to her makeup. But still, it would be fun to play. Just a little kiss. What would be the harm?
“Well?” pressed Claire.
“Deal.”
3
ROGER WAS CURSING at his watch when Claire buzzed him. Then he cursed again at the buzz because it was after seven on a Friday and he had to leave.
“Hey, Roger, you have a moment? I’ve got someone who needs five minutes of your time.”
“This is a really bad time, Claire,” he said. “Sam’s bachelor party’s starting in less than an hour. I’ve got to—”
“Five minutes,” interrupted a woman’s voice that he’d never heard before. It was low and precise, like from a sexy accountant. A sexy accountant? What the hell was he thinking?
“I really haven’t—”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” the unknown woman said, and this time there was no accountant in the tone, just pure sex. “I’ve got some ideas about your newest product that I think could make both of us very happy.”
That caught his attention. RFE was desperate for new markets. Robotics companies couldn’t survive on building a walking, talking robot like most people imagined. No one could really afford something like that. But attach a robotic arm to a wheelchair, and suddenly things got more interesting. Connect high-tech robotics to a prosthetic, and amputees started expressing interest. And given the state of the economy, he couldn’t afford to turn away any possibilities.
“Five minutes,” he grumbled as he powered down his laptop. He’d talk to the woman as he prepared to leave for Sam’s party. The wedding wasn’t for a month yet, but packed schedules had pushed up the date to tonight. And as best man, Roger wanted to get there early to make sure everything was the way it ought to be. He’d ordered booze, strippers and the best nachos money could buy. Sam wouldn’t notice any of it—he was head over heels in love with Julie—but it was the principle of the thing. As best man, it was incumbent upon Roger to see that things were done right.
Then his thoughts stuttered to a halt as Claire showed a woman into his office. Not just a woman, but class in a pencil skirt and stiletto ankle boots. He straightened up from his desk to look closer. She was average height with light brown hair done up in a polished lift, but everything else about her throbbed with power. Not he-woman power, but corporate slick—the tasteful, expensive kind. Her suit and shoes were understated but of the finest quality. But what really got his attention was that she moved with a swaying precision that told him she could be completely business…or not.
And, wow, one part of him was very interested in the “not” side. Geez, even her scent—a simple lemon smell, he thought—had his dick lifting with desire. When was the last time that happened? No one had piqued his interest this fast since he’d first hit puberty. Thankfully, he was older now and could tell his libido to back down. At least he tried. Until she did the absolutely perfect move to pique his lust. She turned to Claire and smiled, instantly transforming her face from cool corporate to warm girl next door.
“Thanks, Claire. And thank you for the muffins,” she said as she lifted a box.
“They’re for Mary. You have to earn yours,” Claire returned with a grin.
“I know,” the woman answered.
Roger struggled to keep his libido from completely taking over his brain. “Um, sorry, but I really don’t have a lot of time,” he said as he snapped his briefcase shut. Then he cursed. He’d left his calendar out on his desk. He’d been searching through it, looking for a way to fit in a vacation. A couple days or a long weekend. Something. But he’d already looked three months out and he had nothing. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe he needed to quit his job. But the idea of doing that just killed him inside.
The woman handed over her business card. “I won’t take up much of your time, I swear,” she said.
Before he could answer, Claire spoke up. “I’ve got to get home, Roger. I’m going to lock up the front, so you’ll have to leave through the lab. You’re the last ones here, so kill the lights, too, okay?”
“No problem. Have a nice weekend,” Roger replied as he inspected his visitor’s business card. “Dr. Amber Smithson,” he read out loud. “From Mandolin Hospital and Clinic.” He looked up, intrigued. She sure as hell didn’t look like any doctor he knew, but then he’d never been to the prestigious Mandolin either. “What brings you to Chicago?”
The woman sat down in a chair and treated him to the delicious view of her skirt creeping up as she crossed her legs. The sight was so mesmerizing, he almost missed what she said.
“Oh, this and that,” she answered vaguely.
“Publicity, donations, benefit gala?” he asked. That was the usual reason someone like her came to Chicago. Just as he spent much of his time hitting those events, trying to connect up with the movers and shakers in medicine, looking for ways to get robotic equipment to the people who could benefit from it the most.
“Not this trip,” she said with a smile. “But you’ve managed to catch my eye nonetheless.”
He put his calendar inside his briefcase, then leaned a hip against his desk. “Okay, Dr. Smithson—”
“Amber, please.”
“All right, Amber. You’ve got my attention. What is it that you’re looking for?”
She arched a brow. “I have a friend who might be interested in a face-to-face with the power behind RFE. Your company has an interesting if rather scattered product line. But there are possibilities…”
He raised his hands in an apologetic