Cyrus: M.E.D.I.C.S.: A Steamy Instalove Military Medical Romance Read online

  Cyrus

  M.E.D.I.C.S.

  Book 5

  Pandora Snow

  Copyright @ 2020

  Exclusive Amazon Release

  Snake– M.E.D.I.C.S. Book 6

  He’s saved lives. He’s saved the day. But he’ll need a God-given miracle to save her.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  "Fuck, not again!" I shout, dropping to the ground beneath the metal table being prepared for scheduled surgery. The flashes of light are blinding my eyes as I urgently search for Drake, breathing a sigh of relief as I see him ducking next to a soldier's bed. The brutalizing four-minute barrage of bullets finally slows, the Commander signaling safety. A soldier is being rushed in from the tent's left side, the Commander pointing to my table. Sergeant Hayes is already prepping from his Unit One Pack as he bursts towards me from the right side. We can't lose another soldier. It's almost too much to bear.

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  "Stunning, extravagance in every detail. The luxurious silk fabrics and palette of soothing New England blues are pure perfection."

  Mr. Gates and I are strolling through the near-complete model home in the new Merridale housing development. I've poured my heart, soul, and the last six months into this ambitious project.

  My Dad afforded me this golden opportunity. He called in a favor from his longtime fraternity brother, Don Gates. I spent countless sleepless nights mentally checking off lists and verifying dimensions in microscopic detail.

  The army taught me discipline, control, and strength to see every mission to completion. These skills have allowed me to accel with organization, deadlines, and somewhat unreliable contractors' challenging management. I'll net a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus upon final approval, enough to repair Dad's 1970's home and pay for occasional medical care.

  Every aspect of my life has been painstakingly scrutinized to ensure success. Starting a relationship will detract from my structured plan. That's the price I'm willing to pay for perfection on the job. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

  "Garrison!" Mike shouts as I'm filing permit forms in the temporary construction trailer. Mike is my second in command, a trustworthy assistant foreman dedicated to the company. I walk down the steps to find out about today's emergency.

  "We triple-checked the kitchen dimensions and placement of the gas lines, correct?"

  "Five times, why?"

  "You're not going to believe this, but we're six inches off between the stove hook up line and the installation location. The damn kitchen design is six inches skewed to the right. We can't move the gas lines now; the custom hood vent is already installed. What the hell are we supposed to do?"

  "That's not possible, Mike. Show me."

  We hastily stride to the pristine model home. I'm unable to believe we've made this type of costly error. My seasoned team takes pride in precision. If they made a mistake, then I made a mistake. The weight falls squarely on my shoulders.

  "See, Boss," he says after remeasuring for the third time.

  "I see that the stove wasn't designed to sit in front of the gas line, but that's not our fault, Mike. Those plans are the ownership of the damn designer. I'll have their hide for this!"

  "Alright, Boss, calm down. Either way, we'll re-engineer a workaround. You shouldn't take everything so personally. Even if our team made a mistake, which they didn't, corrections can be made."

  "What's the designer's name?" I snarl, bound, and determined to make sure the blame lands on anyone's shoulders but mine. This is not my failure.

  "Lauralynn. She works at Divine Design Interiors."

  "Back in an hour," I grunt, grabbing my architectural plans and jumping into my Ford Superduty truck. Miss Lauralynn has a rude awakening coming if she thinks this egregious mistake won't cost her job. I see hundreds of thousands of dollars flying out the window with every mile I drive. The project budget's tighter than a duck's ass.

  Divine Design is a surprisingly modern building with impeccable landscaping. I take the front parking space and gather my plans, hoping to have this business sorted quickly. They must employ several hundred staff judging from the square footage. I was expecting a simple, modest office, not a sophisticated corporate company.

  "Good Morning, Sir," greets a pretty receptionist in her early twenties.

  "Good Morning," I reply respectfully, abating my angry voice. "I'd like to see Miss Lauralynn to discuss the Merridale development project."

  "Do you have an appointment, Mr?" she asks politely. No, I don't have a damn appointment. I'm the boss.

  "No, Maam. Mr. Garrison with Gates Development," I reply, my left fist clenching with agitation.

  She picks up the phone and calls who I'm guessing is the target of my visit. I hear her pause slightly when she mentions my name, listening to a woman's directive voice.

  "She'll be right with you, Sir," the receptionist smiles sheepishly. What's going on here?

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Mr. Garrison, I presume," an authoritative female voice calls from behind.

  "Yes, M…" I'm unable to finish my sentence, rendered speechless by a curvaceous bountiful blonde-haired beauty. She looks like a movie star, her tight-fitting pencil skirt, and proper white blouse drawing my eyes leisurely up and down. Her bouncing curls are piled loosely on top of her head, a few loose strands falling along her soft cheeks. The sweet scent of spicy ginger and cooling lemon dances over me. I shake my head before she kicks me out for my disrespectful gawking and extend my hand.

  "Yes, Maam," I offer, her smooth, delicate fingers placed into mine.

  "Lauralynn," she says in a steady tone, though she can't hide the intoxicating hues of pink spreading across her face.

  "My apologies for dropping by unannounced. We have a discrepancy with the kitchen dimensions on the Merridale project. I'd like to review the plans with you."

  She contemplates my request for a moment, gathering herself.

  "I'd be happy to review any potential mistakes on your part, Mr. Garrison. Right this way." She begins swaying her hips hypnotically back and forth towards the elevator. Did she just insult me? How did I not know about this woman?

  The top floor button is depressed. Perhaps she carries more weight at the company than I assumed. Neither of us is oblivious to the tension swirling in the air, dare I say, attraction. She smiles politely across at me, and we ride in silence. I'm struggling to remember exactly what my mission is as the doors ping open, and she leads me to a large windowed office.

  An administrative girl sitting at a small desk gives me a warm smile as I walk forward. My legs freeze as I read the name on the large glass panels surrounding her office door.

  Lauralynn Gates, CEO.

  Holy shit. She's the boss's daughter!

  "Not who you were expecting?" she grins triumphantly, motioning to have a seat at a cherrywood conference table.

  "Unroll your plans while I pull up the drawings on my computer, and we'll investigate this so-called discrepancy." I do as I'm told, still attempting to wrap my head around her beauty and position. Unless I want to brand myself a complete idiot, I need to get on to business.

  "According to my design plans, Mr. Garrison, your construction team built the kitchen six inches off scale. Had the cabinets been installed correctly, the gas line would have lined up as I originally designed."

  "I understand your computer drawings show a misalignment with the installation. However, both my foreman and I hand-measured every square inch of the kitchen this morning. We are precisely on point with the outer dimensions and placement
of the lines. My team correctly equipped the kitchen per the architectural drawings. The interior design is incorrect.

  I'm feeling increasingly aroused by our sparring. This concoction of emotions: anger, indignation, and sexual magnetism, is overpowering my good manners. I want to haul her into my arms and kiss those sexy stubborn lips until she relents that I'm right.

  The unexpected smile that breaks across my face takes both of us by surprise. Her guard drops momentarily, just long enough for me to see desire behind the confident CEO. Unfortunately, she recovers quickly.

  "We aren't going to resolve these issues in my office. I'll meet you at the job site in thirty minutes so that you can walk me through the kitchen inch by inch."

  Lord have mercy. My obnoxious grin is twice as wide as I gather my drawings and stand to leave. Her frustrated hands are resting on her sultry hips in a stance of dominance. I can't resist my next comment.

  "Perhaps I should drive you, Miss Gates. You seem a bit flustered."

  "Get out!" she decrees, pointing me to the door.

  "Yes, Maam. I'll see you in thirty minutes."

  Her intoxicating scent is drifting through the elevator as I press the lobby button. Engaging with Lauralynn is the most fun I've had in months. Despite the seriousness of this design error and potential financial loss, I can't help but smile stupidly all the way back to work.

  Once I prove she's at fault for the mistake, I'll ask her on a proper date. I know she's ultimately out of my league. I also know she felt the exploding chemistry between us.

  Lauralynn has her computer, Mike has the drawings, and I have the tape measure. We painstakingly analyze every measurement of every cabinet across the two main walls. We've narrowed down the culprit to either incorrect appliance size or cabinet dimensions.

  Lauralynn chalks the floor to the exact specifications of her design. I chalk the location of each item according to architectural plans on the table.

  We're both on our knees as our hands reach the center and over cross by six inches. "See, you're six inches too far on my side," she says.

  "No, you're six inches too far on my side," I hastily reply. Neither of us notices Mike walking away, smart enough to stay out of this heated battle.

  "Your gas line is too short!" she exclaims.

  "Your stove is too big!" I retort.

  In an unpreventable flash of lust, I stand to my feet, taking her with me. My arms wrap tightly around her back, planting a firm passionate kiss on her open, surprised mouth. She instantly returns my intensity, diving her tongue into me as her arms move from my muscular biceps to my damp neck.

  The stove is melting from the heat we're generating, our pace slowing to a sensual exploratory rhythm. The feel of her beautifully plump buttocks as I move my right hand south is inciting my cock. We need to pull back before we're caught; by a contractor, Mike, or her father.

  My hold loosens, cupping her cheek to see into her luminous jade eyes. She's drawing her hands down to my chest, feeling my rapid heartbeat, triggered by her every touch.

  "You're simply beautiful, Lauralynn. Would you allow me to take you on a date tonight?"

  "I have a board meeting with my father. I'm free tomorrow night," she replies as her fingers outline the ripples on my abdomen.

  "Deal." I gently grab her fingers and lift her hand to my lips for a confirmation kiss.

  "What are we going to do about this, about your mistake?" she asks sincerely.

  "You mean your mistake, Lauralynn? Perhaps you could redesign one or two cabinets around the proper placement of the stove."

  "You still think this is my error?" she says three octaves too high, stepping out of my reach.

  "The writing's on the floor. The cabinets weren't sized properly."

  "No, you made an installation mistake. Ugh!" she breathes out, the beauty of her righteous expression impossible to resist.

  "Don't even!" she blurts out as I attempt to circle her waist.

  She places her laptop under her arm and begins walking towards the front door. The clicks of her sky-high heels are mirroring each beat of my enraptured heart.

  "This potential budget nightmare will come up at my meeting this evening. I expect you'll have an agreeable solution for my father when he sees you in the morning. Good day, Mr. Garrison."

  She can't be serious! She wouldn't throw me under the bus for her mistake, would she? I'll stay here all night if that's what it takes to find a resolution. I'm not about to put my job in jeopardy. But damn, I'm drunk on a deliriously desirable designer.

  "Have a great day, Maam," I say, more sarcastically than I intended. She has me wondering which side is up, the battle intensifying between my perfectionist brain and my spellbound body.

  My entire identity is built on a succeed at all costs work ethic. She's cut to the heart of my fear, failing to live up to other people's expectations and high standards. I don't want to be seen as a failure. I sure as hell do, however, want another taste of those sensual pouty lips. Miss CEO has caught me utterly off guard. It's time to double my efforts and find a mutually beneficial compromise.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Pondering Lauralynn’s sudden change in attitude prevented my sleep. I thought about her vulnerable eyes looking to me for comfort, unclear why her viewpoint suddenly shifted. I thought about her soft pink lips hotly kissing mine, clinging to me for protection. This challenging sexy beautiful woman is feeling insecure about her abilities. I intend to find out why.

  A giant swig of hot joe warms my belly as I unlock the trailer for the day. I’m re-booting the business computer, noticing an inventory sheet including large machinery valuation sitting on the printer. I wonder why Mike would need this. He can identify these items in his sleep. I choose to file the document, letting my questioning thoughts go. It’s probably nothing. We have work to do.

  The next six tedious hours are spent checking and rechecking design plans for this first development phase. Every last home is off by exactly the same amount. Six of the houses are past the stage of revision and would cost tens of thousands to reconstruct.

  Mike's level head is unable to see a mistake on the part of our skilled team. He affirmatively believes the entire inaccuracy falls on Lauralynn's design. We finish our nightly inspection of the heavy equipment to ensure all locks are in place.

  "Don't stress anymore tonight, Boss. We'll review the plans with a fresh set of eyes in the morning. You need a beer."

  "Amen to that. See you tomorrow." As I walk back to the trailer to close shop, I hear Mr. Gate's voice on. Shit. I didn't know he was on site.

  Do I open pandora's box now or later? Throwing Lauralynn under the bus isn't the ethical or moral step to take. At the very least, I'll buy us another few days to sort out the discrepancy.

  "What do you mean they installed the gas lines incorrectly? That's impossible!" His voice is raised as I stand a few feet away, unsure of how to proceed.

  "I understand you've reviewed the design plans in minute detail, but construction workers don't make these glaring miscalculations." He pauses for a few minutes, listening.

  "The board meeting is an hour. We'll discuss this further. I didn't appoint you CEO for no reason, Lauralynn. You're an excellent designer, but you must admit when you've made a mistake. Redesigning a few cabinets is far less costly than replumbing gas lines and relocating expensive hood vents. I expect your revised designs in my inbox by eight am. You will fix this."

  Nausea doesn't begin to describe the knot forming in my stomach. Mr. Gates was borderline contemptible with his daughter, automatically assuming she was entirely to blame.

  Regardless of my intense physical attraction for her, she deserves respectful treatment. This isn't the moment to disturb the hornet's nest, but I must speak up on her behalf tomorrow. It's the honorable action to take.

  Reaching a mutually beneficial solution is imperative now. I know first-hand how it feels when your father berates your behavior and assumes your guilt. I joined the army to pro
ve to him I wasn't the lazy party boy persona he believed me to be in high school.

  Lauralynn needs to feel heard and appreciated by her Dad. If she'll still date me tomorrow night, I'll give her the emotional support she deserves.

  ***

  "Hey Everett, hey Snake," I smile weakly, pulling up a barstool at Tinders. If anyone can guarantee my troubles will be long forgotten before night's end, it's these two.

  "How's the fancy pants job, Cyrus? Are you rich yet?" Snake is a smartass through and through, seizing every opportunity to make a sarcastic remark.

  "Hell yes, do you want to see my Audi parked out front? My good suits are at the cleaners, so I wore these rags tonight."