Kissed by a Carrington. Linda Hudson-Smith

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       Chapter 2

      Not one to easily give in to bouts of nervousness, Kelly was surprised at the annoying tremor in her heart and at how dry her full, generous lips and mouth felt. The Sahara Desert was an adequate description for the dusty-tasting, cracking condition of her tongue. In spite of the juicy berry-wine lip gloss she wore, her lips felt parched.

      Meeting the entire Texas Cyclones team and its owner and management staff wasn’t a nerve-racking occasion for Kelly. Yet knowing Houston was among the group had her regretting the decision she’d made not to reveal to him the legal contract she’d signed to join the franchise as a team physician. Houston had imparted a fair amount of his personal history to her, but she hadn’t given up nearly as much.

      For the auspicious occasion Kelly had worn her favorite red power suit, simplified by a soft, silky white blouse. The dressy business attire, a perfect fit on her slender, well-toned body, was visible proof of her belief in the benefits of exercising regularly. Red patent-leather heels, almost the exact color as the suit, weren’t as hot as the stilettos she’d worn on the luncheon date with Houston.

      As the professional basketball team filed into the room, Kelly ran her fingers lightly through her reddish-brown tresses. Bouncing with full body, her hair shone with the glossy product her stylist had sprayed on generously after a wash and blow-dry.

      A few deep breaths helped to calm Kelly. Then her eyes engaged with Houston’s ebony ones. The expression on his face was totally unreadable, like a mask put perfectly in place to hide the true image behind it. Her breath suddenly felt tangled.

      Houston didn’t look a bit surprised or particularly shocked to see Kelly standing there. His gaze was hot and unwavering, swirling all about her, tampering with her calm demeanor.

      Smile, she quietly commanded him. Smile that beautiful smile for me, Houston Carrington, just long enough to ease this web of confusion I feel.

      “Well, men, this is Dr. Kelly Charleston, the newest player added to our team roster. She’s the highly qualified sports medicine physician I just briefed you on,” Maxmillian Sheffield, the franchise owner, announced. “Is she not as beautiful as I said?”

      “Hear, hear,” someone shouted from the middle of the room.

      As the team did “guy things,” wolf-whistling and pumping fists, Kelly blushed, her sienna cheeks glowing. So Houston had known about her contract before he’d walked into the room, she thought. Yet his expression hadn’t given it away.

      Maxmillian Sheffield, simply referred to as Max, filled any room he entered with his greatness. Kelly’s few encounters with him had put her in the middle of what his staffers had said about him. He was kindhearted, considerate and wore on his shirtsleeves the incredible humility and humanity he also carried inside his heart.

      One of the wealthiest men in the country, Max lived modestly, comfortably, but fully, sharing his overflowing coffers with the less fortunate. Max was a giver. Kelly had heard it said many times by others; only God could beat Max at giving.

      “Kelly is on board to take care of our team’s medical needs,” Max said, “mainly the orthopedic-related ones. I brought her to us on the highest of recommendations, but no need to repeat all that. Even though our season is over and we’re not in the playoffs, we hired Kelly to help with our summer league, preseason training and our future seasons. Without further ado, I present to you Dr. Kelly Charleston. Let’s give her a hearty round of applause.”

      Enthusiastic hand clapping and warm smiles of approval appeared genuine.

      Kelly stood in the center of the room, as opposed to timidly hiding behind the podium. “Hello, guys! It’s a pleasure and a privilege to sign on with the champion NBA Texas Cyclones. I’m grateful for this opportunity of a lifetime. I won’t travel with the team, but I’ll be prepared to meet all your needs at home.”

      Kelly went on to let the team know that besides their own marvelous facilities, they’d have full access to the same state-of-the-art equipment her orthopedic practice had installed in their downtown medical/athletic facility, Houstons Sports Medicine Center.

      “One of my partners in private practice, Dr. Jacoby Quinn, is also under contract with the team. I’d also like you to know I’ve been a staunch Cyclones fan for many years. Now that we’re slightly acquainted, I’m open to any questions you might have.”

      Houston’s left eyebrow lifted. “Any questions?” he asked pointedly, giving Kelly a mere sample of just how incorrigible he could be.

      Kelly licked her lips in a stirring manner, a provocation intended solely for one Mr. Carrington. “Any questions that have to do with sports medicine or my credentials,” she shot right back, her killer smile knocking him totally off-kilter.

      Many of Houston’s team members had attended the charity event for Haven House. As far as anyone knew, Austin was the only triplet bid on. Houston would like to keep it that way. Never in a trillion years would he intentionally give away his recent association with Kelly, yet he relished a little harmless fun at her expense.

      Laughing inwardly, Houston quietly conceded round one to Kelly.

      Kelly happily answered all the astute questions the players asked her. Her demeanor was professional, but she was savvy enough to allow her sensational sense of humor and effervescent personality to ooze. Her desire was to win the team’s support, but she also wanted the guys to trust and like her. It would definitely make her job easier.

      Max slid his cupped hand under Kelly’s elbow. “Instead of the partial tour you had the day of your interview, I’d like to give you a full one of the facility and also show you where to hang up your stethoscope during the paperwork portion of your workday. I hear chart entries and signings are the least popular part of your profession.”

      Kelly laughed at Max’s great sense of humor. “That’s for sure. Cramped fingers and hands are occupational hazards, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m ready to go if you are.” As Kelly left the room with Max, she waved at the players, smiling broadly.

      Instead of Max showing Kelly areas of the training center she’d already seen, he took her to the various sections she hadn’t toured, in the interest of time. The Texas Cyclones’ training facility was an amazing architectural structure. СКАЧАТЬ