Page 41 of Vital Signs
I began my talk, pushing all thoughts of the gorgeous… and frustrating little wench out of my brain. Focused it all on the presentation.
Until about halfway through slide three, when the phone vibrated again against my thigh. I faltered for half a second, my mind instantly replaying that image of her. But I recovered. Kept going.
During the first question from the audience, I finally dared to glance down.
Anya:
I sent them because you’re far away.
And because I wanted you to think about me.
I can’t stop thinking about you, Doctor Vaughn.
My throat went dry.
I answered the poor soul’s question on autopilot, words flowing from muscle memory while my mind wasentirelyelsewhere.
With her.
Another vibration.
Anya:
Are you behaving?
I swallowed, shifted my stance, and let out a slow breath.
Desmond:
Define “behaving.”
I couldfeelher grin through the screen.
Anya:
No.
I closed my eyes for half a beat, then finished the session to polite applause, pulse still misbehaving, suit suddenly far too restrictive.
As the room emptied, my phone buzzed one last time.
Anya:
I’ll be here when you’re done.
Missing you.
Emergencies just aren’t the same without you, boss.
I stared at the message longer than necessary. Then, very carefully, I typed:
Desmond:
You are a menace.
And I cannot wait to see you on Saturday.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, rolled my shoulders, and prepared for the next talk. Focus was overrated anyway.
