Chapter Five
Lexi pulled papers from her briefcase and bit on her lower lip.
That little habit of hers would be the death of him. It was totally provocative and elicited a bone-deep response from him. It should be his lip she chewed, not her own.
He wanted her. So bad he considered tossing the coffee out of the way, hauling her across the table, onto his lap, and possessing her mouth again. That way, at least he could hold her sweet butt against his cock, which was still rigid and demanding the release he’d ruthlessly suppressed in the elevator.
The pressure did little to relieve the pain of his headache.
His thoughts stretched back to Melbourne. He couldn’t stop them. Their night together had been the most intense experience he’d had in a decade. The sex had been amazing, but it wasn’t the only part that had gotten to him. She’d given herself to him completely, held nothing back.
As a result, he’d done the same.
Which was a bit of a shocker, really, because he never let go anymore. Not with anyone.
When he’d woken to find her spooned against him, still asleep, his gut had churned with emotion he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Lexi represented everything he no longer believed in. She embodied life and love and hope, and it vibrated through him, straight to that dark place in his heart. That place where hope and dreams had died.
He hadn’t been able to deal with it, nor had he wanted to. So he’d come home to Sydney and left Matt behind to complete the business deal. Back at the office, Genevieve had dealt the killer blow. She told him about the appointment.
One thought had dominated. He’d wanted to see her again as much as he hadn’t wanted to. Right then, he should have canceled or referred her on to Matt. Why hadn’t he?
“You haven’t heard a word, have you?” Lexi raised her voice slightly, forcing his attention back to her. “I’m not sure why you suggested coffee if you’re not really interested in what I have to say.” Her cheeks were still flushed, although her erratic breathing had evened out.
He massaged his forehead and thought about her orgasm in the lift. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not you—”
“Headache?” she asked.
“Blinding.” Made worse by a serious case of blue balls.
She scratched around in her bag and pulled out a box of painkillers. “Help yourself.”
Grateful, he accepted, drinking two pills down with a gulp of coffee. He wondered if somewhere in her bag she had a cure for a perpetual erection.
“Better?” she asked.
“It will be. Thanks.” He passed the box back to her.
“Look, Mr. Riley—”
“Adam,” he corrected and repressed a smile. “After what we’ve shared, ‘mister’ sounds a little formal.”
“Look…Adam.” The color in her face deepened. “Regardless of what we’ve shared, or of what just happened, I’m only here to discuss the sibling program. I’m honestly not interested in trading insults or arguing with you. Or making reference to…us. Can you handle that? Can we keep this meeting on a strictly professional basis? This project’s too important to waste my time with anything else.”
This time he couldn’t hold back his smile. “Go ahead. You have my full attention.”
For a moment she just stared at him, then she blinked and shook her head. “As I said, the initial letter I sent outlines the basics of the project. This proposal is more detailed.” She pushed a folder to him. “Anything we don’t cover today is mentioned in there. The project will be based at POWS, even though it’s not aimed at the patients. Its primary purpose is to provide support to siblings of children with cancer.”
Adam settled back in his seat. Despite his headache, she had his full attention, and he knew she could see it. Her tone warmed to her subject.
“The siblings are the forgotten victims in the fight against cancer. All focus is put on the sick child, which is understandable. The problem is, the brothers and sisters also experience anxiety and distress, and their needs are often overlooked by parents and caregivers in the struggle to treat the patient.”
The trend wasn’t foreign to him—he knew more than any lay person should need to about childhood cancer.
Lexi continued. “These kids have to adapt to so many new things so quickly, the experience can be overwhelming. Their once-healthy siblings are sick. How are they supposed to cope? Apart from the obvious worry about the sibling, they may also experience associated guilt, guilt that they’re healthy and the sibling’s not. Or there’s the fear that they could get sick, too. They have no control of the situation. They’ve learned the hard way that no one’s invincible.”
“It’s a traumatic lesson,” Adam agreed.
“And there’s so much more,” Lexi said, her voice filled with passion. “They need to learn new patterns of relating to other family members. All the family dynamics change. For example, parents may focus more on the sick child, neglecting the healthy sibling. Or that sibling may suddenly find him or herself looking after younger siblings, or doing the housework, or performing other roles formerly done by the parents.”
She paused and took another sip of her cappuccino. Her eyes settled on his face. “How’s your head?”
He nodded, surprised. “A little better, actually.”
“Good.” She smiled and got straight back to business. “These kids have no outlet for their new emotions and anxieties. Their parents are involved with the sibling. The sibling is often too ill to speak to, and their friends can’t comprehend what they’re going through. Where do they turn? Who do they talk to?”
“There are counselors at the hospital, social workers and psychologists like yourself. Surely it’s your role to speak to these children?”
Lexi nodded. “It is and we do. Most times, however, intervention is aimed at the parents and the sick child. Don’t get me wrong. Plenty of siblings receive counseling or are referred to appropriate support groups, and they do well. It’s the ones who slip through the cracks who suffer. Our project targets all the siblings, not just those lucky enough to have already been reached by the system.”
“So what is it exactly you plan to do? Why do you think you can reach these children when others before you haven’t?”
“We intend to identify siblings from the first hospital admission. When a new patient is admitted, notes will be made about siblings and the information sent through to us. When the time is right, a staff member will approach the parents to discuss the possibility of the siblings joining the program.”
“When the time is right?”
“The family’s in crisis. They’d need time to adjust to both the illness and the treatment before we introduce the concept of sibling intervention. We can’t let too much time pass, though. The siblings are in crisis, too, and the sooner we get to them, the better.”
“What will your program offer?”
“It’s a threefold service with a primary focus on counseling and support. We’d also offer education about the disease, maybe even a chance for the kids to meet with the doctors and ask questions that their parents can’t or won’t answer. Finally, the program would give the children a place to go when they don’t know where else to turn.”
“Where would your offices be?”
“Next to the pediatric oncology ward. I have approval from the hospital board to utilize a few empty rooms. We’d convert them into a lounge, a toy room, a counseling room, and an office for the staff members.”
“Who is the ‘we’ you keep referring to?”
“Hospital social workers and nurses who’ve volunteered to help. I still need a full-time person to coordinate and manage the whole project. Someone new. The volunteers can’t give more than a few hours a week of their time. They already have full-time jobs.”
“What about you? This is your baby. Why not see it through?” She’d be good for the job. She knew her stuff, and she obviously had an invested interest in the program. Most of all, she cared.
Lexi laughed. “I’m already employed full-time by the hospital. I’d be able to set a few hours aside each week to help out, but it’s not enough to ensure the program runs smoothly.”
“Why the interest in this specific program?” He knew the answer. He knew almost everything about her.
Lexi hesitated. She gave him a wary look then shrugged. “I was once one of these kids. When I was ten, my sister was diagnosed with leukemia.”
“Is she…did she survive?”
“Yeah. She’s one of the lucky ones.”
“What was it like for you, when she was sick?” He shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t find out any more about her, but he couldn’t help himself.
“A year straight from hell,” Lexi said. “I was too young to grasp the severity of the situation. Sarah was sick, my parents were distraught, and the family almost fell apart.” She played with her cup. “I was an emotional wreck, swinging from sad to happy, to angry, to jealous. I had trouble concentrating at school, and apart from my brother, I didn’t have any real support.” She looked him dead in the eye. “I could really have used a little professional help then.”
“What about now?” Did the trauma still haunt her?
“I’ve worked through it. Took a while, though. I would’ve coped better if I’d received intervention when Sarah was first diagnosed.”
“And thus the sibling program?” A project he liked more with every word she spoke. Adam had no doubt his company would give Lexi the necessary sponsorship.
“And thus the sibling program,” she agreed. “POWS can provide a more comprehensive and holistic service if we treat the whole family and not just the patient.”
Lexi cared. She gave a damn about what happened to people, even if she didn’t know them—and she had no trouble showing it.
A sudden sense of claustrophobia overpowered him. He’d seen this side of her at her brother’s exhibition, and he’d liked that she gave a damn. He’d liked it too much. Now it scared him shitless. What if she began to care about him? What if she began to show it? Worse, what if he began to care about her?
He wouldn’t. AJ Riley flew solo. She might be the caring type, but he wasn’t. Not anymore.
The threat of a migraine might have passed, but now his lungs seemed to stop functioning. He couldn’t breathe. His chest closed, and his heart beat jaggedly. Black spots impeded his vision.
If he stayed with Lexi any longer, panic would set in. Anxiety would paralyze him. He had to get away. More than that, he had to make Lexi stay away from him. “Okay. What’s the bottom line here? Give me a figure.”
She blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. “Bottom line? I’m talking one hundred thousand dollars—for the first year. That’s an estimate. The proposal includes a detailed costs analysis.”
He gave the document a cursory glance, struggling to read the words that floated around the page. Later, he’d go over it with a fine-tooth comb, the way he went over any business document. In the meantime, the iron clamp around his chest squeezed tighter.
He gave a harsh laugh and deliberately kept his voice colder than the deadened area in his heart. “That’s quite a bottom line. A lot higher than I expected.”
Confusion flashed across her face but was replaced almost instantly with determination. “It is high. But the expenses are more than justified, as you’ll see from the facts and figures provided.”
“Maybe so, but I’m wondering if our night together was worth a hundred thousand dollars?” He whistled, hating the vitriol spilling from his mouth.
Her eyes sparked, and her face turned scarlet. “We’re back to that?”
He despised himself for humiliating her, for protecting his emotions at the cost of her dignity. Lexi hadn’t prostituted herself on any level. She’d shared an intimate, sexy night with him, one he’d never forget, and he was using it to cheapen a brilliant, charitable cause. “We never really left it.”
She flew out of her seat. Grabbing her almost-empty cup, she threw the dregs in his face.
The cappuccino hit him square in the eyes and dripped down his nose and cheeks. The cool, milky liquid did nothing to ease the burn of shame that stung his face.
“Mr. Riley,” she bit out, “why don’t you take your money and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine?” She grabbed her briefcase and marched off. Before she’d taken three strides, she whirled back and glared at him. “If you should mistakenly believe that the sun does shine down there, trust me, you’re wrong. And I should know. I’ve seen it.”