Stolen Kisses With Her Boss

His blunt statement wasn’t unexpected. She leaned toward him, gripping the arms of her chair. Her parents had wanted them all to get a college education. She’d been fighting Mark’s apathy about doing that for months now. The weight of doing so was starting to get to her. “Why?”

“College doesn’t get you anywhere.” Mark spoke to the floor instead of her.

This was one of those times when she wished she had some backup, someone to turn to. She refused to let her voice rise. “You know Mom and Dad wouldn’t like that.”

“Yeah. But it’s not for me.”

Cynthia moved the chair to face him more directly. “Then what’re you going to do?”

He shrugged and continued to look at that floor. “I don’t know.”

That wasn’t a good plan. “Well, you’re going to have to figure something out.”

Mark jumped to his feet. “Get off my back. You’re not my parent. We can’t all be Rick.” He stomped from the room.

She sighed. Could the day get any better? Mark’s statement hurt on a number of levels. Cynthia missed her parents too. That was why she took her guardianship responsibilities seriously. Wanted to do the best by them. And no, she was not Mark’s parent. If the situation was different she would prefer just being his sister.

Dr. Donavon’s dictation arrived in her transcription system’s inbox right before dinner. The work could wait until after dinner. Her parents had made the evening meal time important and she continued the practice. Her brothers knew that if possible they were expected at home at six during the week so they could spend some time together.

Two hours later she pulled her chair up to her desk. This wasn’t the way she’d planned to spend Friday night, but she would get over it. Doing what had to be done had become a part of her life. She’d have Dr. Donavon’s work to him Monday morning, hoping to impress.

She clicked the dictation inbox and Dr. Donavon’s voice filled her ears. It didn’t take long for her to forget about how tired she was or the amount of housework that needed doing and start enjoying the rich deepness of his voice. If she had to work on Friday night, there were worse jobs to have than one that involved having the sound of a sexy voice in her ear.

* * *

After lunch Monday, Sean settled in behind his desk at his clinic office. Pushing his chair back and putting his feet on his desk, he crossed his ankles and got comfortable. He didn’t usually reread all his reports but in this instance, he couldn’t afford not to. The grant was too important.

His future depended on it. Not to mention the quality of life for his patients, for the vast number of patients who would have their hearing improved and those of other ear, nose and throat doctors as well. With the grant he could continue his research and make that difference.

With the success of his procedure and the patent of a new instrument he would also be financially set for life. He knew too well what it was like being without and he’d vowed never to feel that way again. He’d heard some people call it the Scarlett O’Hara syndrome. He just called it smart.

Long ago he’d hired a financial planner. He was determined not to live paycheck to paycheck as his parents had, wondering if there would be enough cash to pay the bills or buy food. While growing up, more than once he’d been unable to participate with his friends in an activity because there hadn’t been funds. His parents had been and still were the types to fall in with the next big money-making scheme, which always cost them money instead of making them rich as they claimed they one day would be. There had been multi-level marketing, investing in commercial ventures or selling the next great vitamin product. Nothing seemed to work but they were always in for the chance it might.

Sean hated any part of that way of life. Money shouldn’t be squandered. Instead it should be saved and invested. He was determined to do just that. Their attitude toward paying their bills and handling finances embarrassed him. Their philosophy about life was so different from his that they found little in common. Because of that he’d not seen them in almost a year. Even then visits had been short. He wasn’t interested in hearing about the next “get rich quick” plan.

The one thing about his new breakthrough was that it would allow him to put away enough money to support his parents in their old age. He was confident that they would need his help. Despite his bitter feelings about his childhood he would take care of them. No matter what, they were his parents.

Now he only had to get the grant documentation in order. The submission must be flawless. The competition was tight, right down to the written documents. Even the smallest element could make a difference between him and someone else receiving the grant.

Picking up his tablet, he pulled up his most recent reports and started reading. Halfway through the first one, he was pleased to find not a single mistake. Not that he really expected one but he couldn’t be too careful. Ms. Marcum had done a superb job and certainly in a timely manner. He should tell her so.

When his last transcriptionist had taken another position she’d given his office manager Ms. Marcum’s name along with a glowing reference. Because he didn’t have time to waste completing the grant he’d told his office manager to hire her without further question. Not known for making snap decisions, thankfully this one had been a smart one. He didn’t know what would have happened to his grant submission if she hadn’t been willing to take on the additional work.

Now he needed to make sure he kept her. He couldn’t have her quitting just when he needed her the most. He didn’t have time to waste hiring another, especially when there was no guarantee that the next person would be any good. His manager had already said they were lucky to get this one. He needed his dictation done in a timely manner and she had proven she could do that.

Pulling up his email, he entered Cynthia Marcum’s address. Her name made her sound like a middle-aged matron. It didn’t matter what she looked like. What concerned him was the quality of his papers and keeping her typing them.

Ms. Marcum,

I have reviewed your reports and I’m very pleased with your work. Thank you for getting them to me in such a timely manner. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that they were waiting for me when I returned to my office after coming out of surgery today.

I can’t say enough about how much I appreciate your efforts. I hope it’s still okay to send you additional work.

Very gratefully,

S. Marcum

Without hesitation he clicked the “send” button.

* * *

Cynthia was pleased to have his gratitude. It was always nice to get affirmation for her efforts. Good manners and a sexy voice. Two for two as far as she was concerned.

As much as she liked his praise she didn’t want to have to stay up late or work on weekends to get it. Hopefully other work he sent wouldn’t require her doing so. She’d handle that issue when the time came, if it did. She also had to honor her other clients’ needs as well.

Cynthia typed a message.

Dr. Donavon,

I’m so happy you were pleased. Just let me know if I can help out further.

Cynthia

She reread the note twice. It was polite, yet businesslike.

A minute later a message landed in her mailbox.

Thank you! I do, in fact, have more work for you. I will send it through today.

S. Donavon

Maybe she’d offered too quickly. Apparently this grant was extremely important to him. At least he hadn’t put a time period on when he needed these reports returned.

In the middle of the afternoon the doorbell rang. Cynthia answered it to find a delivery man holding a green plant in a blue ceramic pot.

“Cynthia Marcum?”

“Yes.”

“This is for you.” The man handed her the pot.

Dumbfounded, Cynthia was left to stare at it as he climbed into his van. No one had ever sent her something from a florist. There had been flower arrangements when her parents died but never something just for her. What was going on?

She looked down at the full, beautiful plant with broad leaves and a vivid red flower in the center. Tucked under one of the leaves was a white envelope with her name scrawled on it. Closing the door with her foot, she carried the plant to her office and set it on the corner of her desk. Removing the envelope, she pulled out the card inside. Written on it was: “Thanks, Sean Donavon.”

He’d sent her a thank-you plant. Cynthia couldn’t help but smile. That was thoughtful. Dr. Donavon had just earned another point. No matter what he looked like she could fall for someone who took the time to say thank you. She loved her brothers but “thank you” wasn’t something she regularly heard. She didn’t regret her sacrifices or what she did for them but she would like some understanding and appreciation sometimes. She looked at the plant again. Dr. Donavon’s office manager had no doubt taken care of sending the gift.

A short time later the work he wanted done came up in her system.