by Niecey Roy
“She also blacked out for about two minutes,” Gen said.
“Could have been three. Is that a sign of a traumatic brain injury?” I asked.
“Why don’t I take you back to an exam room so we can take a look at the wound?” The smile on his lips was breathtaking, and the outer corners of his eyes crinkled. Maybe it was just the blood loss, but I swear those blue jewels twinkled at me.
“Okay.” I switched my hold on the shirt from one hand to the other.
He placed a hand at the small of my back, and I sucked in a breath. Electricity shot through me and the flutters in my stomach went haywire at the contact. He led me down the hall.
“I have some paperwork that needs to be filled out,” the receptionist said from behind her desk. She still sounded annoyed by this drop-in visit.
“I can do it. I know all her information,” Gen said, and then called after us, “Let you guys have some space.”
Chase hit me with another full-lipped smile. “You’re in good hands, I promise.”
I wasn’t about to argue—I had no doubt he had wonderful hands. I remembered how they felt carrying me. And weren’t good hands a prerequisite for a doctor?
He steered me into an empty examination room. “Ghost hunting, huh?”
“Investigative research,” I clarified. “It was interesting.”
“So it appears.” The teasing tone to his voice made my knees a little weak. Or maybe it was the result of me hitting my head. I didn’t get weak knees. Not since sophomore year in high school when Shawn Gleason, a junior star on the basketball team, spent a week flirting with me before asking me to the prom. He turned out to be a groping ass-hat with the personality of a beetle.
I wiggled against the exam table, but it was difficult to raise myself up with one hand pressed to my forehead.
“Let me help.” He stepped between my legs, grasped me by the hips. I leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his neck so I could help by hopping up onto the table. I sucked in a breath of his cologne, and then blushed when I realized he might be concerned I was one of those creepy-body-sniffers. Like the guy I took Business Principles with in college who liked to sniff my hair when he didn’t think I was looking. Ew.
“Thanks.” I settled onto the table. “Your forehead looks good.”
“Yes, well, the bruise wasn’t so bad.”
He removed his hands from my hips and stepped back. I almost snagged him by the coat lapels and pulled him back. He smelled too good. A mixture of sweet and spicy. Something I would enjoy licking.
Get a grip, Roxi. Now is not the time.
“Let’s get this shirt off.”
I had a wicked image of him stripping, and because I’d already seen him without a shirt, my imagination wasn’t overworked. He reached for Richard’s shirt instead, and I sucked in a disappointed sigh. The dried blood was like glue; the cotton stuck to my forehead. He removed it with a gentle tug.
“It’s stopped bleeding.” He dropped the shirt beside me on the examination table. “You’ll need a couple of stitches.”
The blood drained from my face.
Chapter Fourteen
“Stitches?” My voice shook as I gripped the edge of the table.
“Yes, but just a few. I don’t anticipate a scar.”
“I hate needles,” I said. “A lot. This one time I had a nurse give me an IV and she poked me twenty times before she found a vein.”
“Twenty?” He sounded more amused than believing.
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure of it. I don’t even think she went to nursing school. Or maybe she did some kind of correspondence school and I was her first victim.”
I was rambling, but the idea of being poked numerous times with a needle had fried my nerves.
He patted me on the knee. “I’ll apply a local anesthetic and you won’t feel a thing.”
A local anesthetic? That sounded serious. Just in case he hadn’t grasped my trepidation, I stressed, “I mean, I really hate needles. They’re right up there with killer clowns.”
He chuckled. “And mutant fish and killer wasps?”
My eyes widened. “Yes. Exactly!”
“It won’t take long at all to stitch you up.” His tone took on a soothing note. “Think about something nice, like cake and . . .” He gazed down at my heels. “Shoe shopping.”
“Shoe shopping,” I repeated. “Shoe shopping is nice.”
“You probably have a closet full of shoes,” he said.
I already felt better. “I’m glad Gen tricked me into coming here.”
His smile was as breathtaking as his piercing blue eyes. They were seared into my brain. “I’m glad she did, too. I was wondering when I’d get to see you again.”
I did a little wiggle scooch to get comfortable on the table. “We had a rain check, remember?”
“How could I forget?” He glanced away, and I willed his eyes to come back to me. “So,” he said, “investigating a haunted house, huh? Sounds interesting.”
I followed his lead with the distraction.
“Well, we were there to look for clues about a missing cat.”
“You were in a haunted house for a missing cat?”
“Okay, I was mostly there because the house was haunted, and also the house owner’s cat is missing, so I figured I better make sure she hadn’t misplaced it.”
He raised his brows.
“She’s older. Forgetting stuff happens. I figured I’d cross all my T’s, you know?” I glanced at him and he nodded. “And her stepson was there a couple times, and I thought it was weird since no one’s lived there in over a century.”
His head tilted. “Makes sense.”
“It does. It just got a little more intense than I thought it would when we were . . . investigating.” My gaze followed him to the cabinet across the room by the door. He loaded a tray with supplies from the cabinet. “You know, weird noises and such.”
“So this house is supposed to be haunted?” He pushed the tray toward the exam table, and I gulped.
“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I looked up at the ceiling again, and away from whatever he was doing with the tray. I heard him rip open a package, and my spine tingled.
“I’m going to apply the anesthetic. It will sting, but the sensation will go away quickly. On the count of three. One, two . . .”
The sharp nip to my skin made me suck in a short breath. I tugged in my bottom lip and held my breath, but the sting went away as quickly as he’d said it would. After a few moments, the cut no longer stung. My forehead was officially numb.
“You did good.” He patted my shoulder to soothe me.
I practiced taking deep, calming breaths. “I bet you’re great with the kids you treat.”
“We don’t get too many kids here at the clinic, but I enjoy them when they come in. I originally went into medicine for Peds,” he said.
“As in pediatrics?”
“Yes. I like kids. I’ve got quite a few nieces and nephews.”
“So . . . you must want a ton of them, huh?”
“Yes, six. And a white picket fence and a big ass minivan.”
My eyes flew open. “Really?”
He laughed. “No. But Gen told me you were worried I was looking for that.”
She was really going to get it. Big time.
“Are you?” I peeked an eye open. His face was so close that my gaze zeroed in on his lips. They were nice lips—full and soft, and kissable.
Those lips smiled. “Not at the moment. And, six is a really large number of kids to have in this economy.”
I closed my eyes. “Too many. But they make big ass Suburbans for that kind of thing.”
“Yes, they do.” There was laughter in his voice.
“Can you imagine how much it would cost to feed six kids?”
“Not to mention college tuition.”
“Exactly.” I smiled, and realized I’d relaxed onto the exam table. He was really good at putting his patients at ease.
; Until he said: “I’m starting the sutures now. There won’t be any pain, just a little pressure and tugging.”
“Oh, gross,” I moaned, my stomach turning.
His hand was on my shoulder again. “It won’t take long. After the first few stitches you won’t even notice what I’m doing. You won’t need many.”
Not know what he’s doing? Not likely. I decided to distract myself. “What kind of doctor are you?”
“Internist.”
My eyes flew open. “You’re an intern? Like, a beginner?”
Not that I doubted his skill with a needle and thread, but the idea of a huge scar on my forehead worried me a little. Like, a lot. When my mother showed up for my birthday—if she really showed up—it would be the first thing she’d see and want to lecture me about.
“No. Internal medicine.”
I closed my eye again. “That sounds like a big deal.”
“I suppose to my patients it is. And to my mom. She cried after I passed my boards.”
“She cried? Your mom sounds really nice.” My dad hadn’t made it to my graduation. He was at some meeting for a new restaurant he was opening in Miami. The entire day I had to listen to my mother mumbling about what an ass he was.
“She’s great,” he said.
“So how old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Wow, that’s old,” I teased.
“Thank you.” When I smiled, he said, “Easy now, or I’ll mangle your stitches.”
I zipped it so he could concentrate.
“All right. You’re all finished.”
I blinked my eyes open. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He stood and held out his hands. “Here, let me help you up.”
I let him pull me to a sitting position.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I lied. I hoped I never needed stitches again. “Thank you.”
“You’ll want to keep the bandage in place for a couple of days. Just make sure to check the wound for discolored oozing.”
“Oozing?” I grimaced. “That’s gross.”
“Infection is gross.” He smiled, removing his gloves and dropping them in the receptacle. “They’re dissolvable so you won’t need to return to have them removed. Unless there’s infection.”
He made me do a few tests to make sure I didn’t have a concussion—follow the pen light with my eyes, hold my arms out and touch my pointer fingers to my nose, and such. When he was done, he stepped closer to help me off the table. I pretended to need it. I landed on my feet in front of him, so close that I could feel the current between us, hot and intense. I didn’t want to move. I was lost in his eyes, and my pulse raced when he raised his hand to brush my bangs away from the small bandage he’d taped over the stitches.
I held my breath. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end, electrified. Did he feel it too? I nibbled on my bottom lip and struggled with what to do about it. This was new to me—I’d never felt anything so intense, this almost-maybe, do-I-or-don’t-I.
I could walk out of this room and stick to my guns, making him off-limits—my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. A whole hell of a lot of trouble, that’s what my gut kept telling me and had been telling me ever since Gen first mentioned setting me up with him.
Or I could live in this moment—as I did with every other aspect in my life—and trust this unexplainable attraction that made me lean into him just to feel his warmth.
I didn’t do well with missed opportunities. Two years ago I almost stopped for a lottery ticket at the gas station near my hair salon. I didn’t because I was running short on time and figured I could do it later. The next morning I woke up to see some old guy holding a winning ticket on the local news, purchased from the same gas station. That could have been my winning ticket.
What would suck even worse than not winning the lottery, would be if I died tomorrow of a slow brain bleed—without a last kiss. It had been so damn long since I kissed anyone; I felt the ache all the way down to my toes.
So I leaned up and went for it.
His lips were soft against mine, full and thorough as he kissed me. He didn’t question it—he wrapped his arms around me, his hands pressed to the dip of my lower back, pulling me against him. Everything about him was warm, strong, and I molded myself into his embrace as if I couldn’t get enough. And I couldn’t.
He felt too good—tasted too good.
Without a thought, I tightened my grip around his neck and lifted. His hands cupped my butt and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My insides warmed to a simmer, quickly heating to a boil.
This is happening!
His tongue slid against mine in a hot, silken caress. I nipped at his bottom lip, tasted it with my tongue before drawing it between my lips. Reason flew out the window; he kissed me so thoroughly that I forgot to breathe. My legs tightened around his waist, and I wanted to feel him—every part of him—against me.
A buzz vibrated through the room. Hell yes, I’m buzzing!
He gently, but firmly, extracted himself and took his lips with him. Dazed, I blinked at the storm of blue gazing back at me as I slid down his chest to stand on my weak legs. The intensity of his stare consumed me.
Another buzz filled the room, and my cheeks grew hot. It was the intercom.
“What was that about?” he asked, his voice deep. A bedroom deep. A morning after deep.
Holy freakin’ Hell. My body was on fire.
Brushing my hair behind my ear, I said, “Um, just in case I really do have a subdural hematoma.” The heat in his gaze faded just a little to make room for the smile in them. I added, “And die. Last kiss—you know.”
The smile enveloped his lips. “Last kiss. I hope it was worthy?”
“Damn straight,” I said, and the buzzer went off again.
“Dr. Walker. Your next appointment is here. Should I send a nurse back to help with your patient?”
His gaze was like warm syrup. “No need, Sarah. She’s good as new.”
“Better than new,” I whispered, and his smile deepened.
Some kind of strange gravitational pull wouldn’t let me step away. My hand was still pressed against his chest, because curiosity wouldn’t allow for anything else.
“Your next patient will be waiting in exam room three,” Sarah the mood-wrecker-receptionist said.
I played with the ends of my hair, brushing the locks over my shoulder while Chase’s thoughtful gaze studied mine, as if he were considering his next words.
“It was really good to see you again, Roxanna.”
“You too,” I said. Like, really, really good to see you.
“Now you can go tell Gen the good news.”
He held the door open for me.
“The good news?” I asked. That I jumped your bones in your examination room?
“That you don’t have a subdural hematoma.”
Now that I was all stitched up, the subdural hematoma thing sounded a little dramatic. My cheeks warmed. “Right. I’m sure she’s been worried about that.”
I lingered too long in the hallway, staring up into his insanely gorgeous gaze. I worried I suffered from a hero complex. But if that was true, I couldn’t think of a sexier man to don a cape. “Until next time.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “And hopefully the next time is not because you’re injured from ghost hunting.”
I smiled. “Hopefully.”
We parted ways in the hallway. I took a couple of steps before pausing to glance over my shoulder. He stood in front of an examination room, reading a medical chart. I faced forward again before I walked into a wall and made an ass of myself.
I liked Chase. A lot. So much, it surprised me. I hadn’t felt this way about a man in a really long time. He was different than any of the guys I’d dated in the past. It had nothing to do with him being a doctor, though his intelligence was definitely a turn on. But what continued to draw me in was his sense of humor. He regarded everything around him with e
ase. I liked the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. I liked that when he laughed, it started somewhere deep in his belly before resonating outward. Being with him was a strange mix of excitement and comfort.
Something about him made me throw caution to the wind. Next time I saw him I would have more self-control. There’d be no jumping him in an exam room. That’s for sure. I would behave.
Maybe. Grinning, I sucked in a deep breath and let it out on a content sigh.
I had a sudden, exhilarating urge to hurry home and write. That kiss . . . Wow.
Chapter Fifteen
The next night the phone rang, rousing me from sleep. Groaning, I rolled to my side. The alarm clock on my night stand glowed blue—it was just after three in the morning. I had only been asleep for thirty minutes.
“Hello?” I answered and rubbed at my eyes.
A new case had come in, so I’d spent the last two nights staking out the husband of a wealthy executive. Tonight I’d snapped the money-shot she needed to prove he’d broken their prenup, and all I’d been looking forward to was a full night’s sleep.
“It was here.” Beverly’s voice shook. “In my house.”
I sat bolt-upright in bed. “Inside? The alien was inside?”
“Yes. I heard noises coming from the dining area so I got up and turned on all the lights. The patio door was wide open. I—I caught a glimpse of it in the dark before it ran around the house.”
I rooted through my dresser drawer, searching for a pair of sweats to pull on. Sure, the idea of aliens had been exciting in the beginning, but now it was getting creepy.
“That bastard is taunting me. Next time I see it, I’m going to blow it to kingdom come.” Her voice shook.
I almost tripped over my pants leg as I tugged them up. “What do you mean?”
“I have a shotgun.”
“Um, we’ll talk about that when I get there. I’m on my way over right now.” Hurrying through my bedroom door and into the hall, I adjusted the waistband of my pants. “Did you call the cops?”
