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“Of course not. You already flew home. You’re not coming all the way back to Denver because of a burst pipe.” Amy sat on the table and peeled off her wet socks, feeling like she’d been marooned on an island. “I can call a plumber. It’s fine.”
“Well, you’d better have him look at all your pipes. That house is older than the Declaration of Independence. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. You’re going to need a full inspection.”
Amy sighed. “And in the meantime, I’d better get out of here. I’ll stay at a hotel downtown.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, I mean, I have to have running water, and I’m afraid that if I turn on any of the sinks this is going to happen again.”
“You could come stay with me,” her brother said.
“No, I couldn’t. I’ve got that meeting with Adriano Canali tomorrow.”
“Yeah, about that,” Mike said. “I looked him up. Do you know who he is?”
“He’s a Barks-Howard’s patient.” Amy was mystified.
“Yeah, he’s that,” Mike agreed. “But he’s also the CEO of TrainTech.”
“What’s TrainTech?”
“You don’t know? It’s a fitness technology brand. They use data about their clients to put together personal fitness plans that totally work and help you achieve your goals.”
Amy laughed. “What are you, their brand ambassador?”
“They’re famous, Amy. Celebrities work with them. I’m really surprised you haven’t heard of them. Maybe you need to go to the gym more often. Every gym in America has ads for their products.”
“When do I have time to go to the gym? You’re the one who says I don’t take enough time for myself.”
“Going to the gym counts as time for yourself. You’re the one who’s a doctor. You know how important a fitness regime is.”
Amy groaned. “Don’t bother me about that now. So this guy’s a fitness CEO. Does it matter?”
“I’m just saying, he’s a big deal. I think if he’d been diagnosed with Barks-Howard’s, the press would know about it. People would have the story.”
“Medical records are private, you know. Even for famous CEOs. And frankly, if he doesn’t have the disease, this is a stupid scam. What, just to get me to have coffee with him?”
“I’m just saying, watch your back. You don’t know what could happen with these big-money types.”
But Amy was determined to see it through. That evening, she checked into a hotel in downtown Denver, a few blocks from the coffee shop where she and Adriano Canali had agreed to meet.
She decided to pass the time by going down to the hotel bar, which she had spotted on her way in. It was a nice-looking place, half a level above the main lobby, with wide picture windows that looked out on the city. She ordered a martini and glanced at the handsome stranger sitting at the end of the bar.
It was very unlike Amy to flirt with strangers in bars.
But Mike’s words were still with her. She felt embarrassed at what her brother had pointed out—that she never did anything for herself, that she hardly had a life at all. She didn’t like it, but he had a point. And maybe this was the opportunity to jolt herself out of the rut she had been in.
She went over to the stranger and sat down.
He was just her type. Even though he was sitting, she could tell that he was tall—he would probably be over six feet when he stood. His hair was thick and dark brown, with just enough wave to it. It was styled expensively—that part wasn’t her usual type—but she figured, if he was staying in a nice hotel like this, he had to be some kind of rich businessman.
She really shouldn’t have picked this place. There were more affordable hotels in the city.
But as she swirled her fancy cocktail, perched on the barstool next to the businessman, she couldn’t regret her choice. At least it was something different—something exciting.
“Hi,” she said to him.
He turned his head slightly. “Hello.”
