Luke(28)

"When was the last time you had a physical?"

Her mouth tightened.

"Quite awhile, huh?"

"I'm fine."

"You're run down and something is off. Let me take a blood test."

"No."

"Faith—"

She curled up in the chair. "You want to be a good doctor? Then go take care of Ally while I catch five."

*

The next night Faith was actually taking it easy. She wore sweat bottoms, a tank top and her beloved bunny slippers, and sat in front of the television doing as she so rarely did—nothing.

She'd done her accounting, and had shocked herself by being able to pay a few more bills than she'd expected. She'd placed her order for supplies and she'd gone over staff scheduling.

She was, in short, unaccustomedly caught up. At first, she hadn't known what to do with herself, but she'd figured it out soon enough between a bowl of homemade caramelized popcorn and the channel changer.

When the knock came at her door, she nearly leaped out of her skin in surprise. An emergency? No, if it was a clinic emergency, they'd be knocking downstairs, not on her door up here.

Now if she'd ordered that Chinese food she'd wanted…

Padding to the door, wishing she hadn't left her handy dandy baseball bat downstairs, she squinted through the window on the door.

That unbearably familiar shadow spoke for itself. So did the way her insides tingled and her nipples hardened.

Oh God, he'd finally come for that wild, unencumbered, animal sex she'd promised him! At just the thought, her thighs quivered. Damn, when would she learn? She needed to lounge around in silk and lace, not torn cotton.

A single soft, decisive knock sounded. "You going to let me in?"

Was she? A flash of them fulfilling her fantasies came to mind; both of them naked by moonlight, limbs tangled, rolling across her bed, breathless and hungry, devouring each other.

Oh yeah, she was going to let him in. She was going to let him—

"Open the door, Faith."

Yes, open the door, Faith. It took her a moment, mostly because her hands had gone a little slippery at the thought of him naked and willing, but she managed, probably with a far too needy expression on her face because he took one look at her and went utterly still.

Oh yeah, way to go, sexy momma. She patted her hair, which she had clipped up even though most of it had fallen back out. She tugged up the low-slung sweats that kept slipping, tugged down the thin tank top she'd washed so many times the pink had faded to light gray. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Stop." He put a hand on her arm to stop her fussing, then looked into her eyes. "You're so beautiful, Faith. I keep forgetting just how beautiful, then I see you and you take my breath."

By some miracle, she drew in some air. She might have laughed, but he wasn't laughing. Nope, his eyes were hot, hot, hot, and all that air she'd just dragged in got caught in her throat. "I—I didn't know you saw me that way."

"Then you're not paying attention."

"Luke—"

"Are you forgetting what it's like when we kiss?"

"Um … no."

"Good. Remember that, okay?"

Now she realized he was holding something behind his hands, looking at her … as if she was one of his patients.

"Let's sit down," he suggested. "What are you watching?"

He'd never taken an interest in anything as mundane as television, never. He'd certainly never been so … sweet. Narrowing her eyes, she held her ground. "Why are you suddenly using your best bedside manner on me?"

"What are you talking about? I'm always this charming."

When she just looked at him, he sighed. "Okay, truth…" He pulled his hands from behind his back. In them was a blood kit.

"No—"

"Yes." He slipped one of his big, warm hands in hers. "There's nothing to be afraid of, I'm actually really good at drawing blood—"

"I'm not afraid of a needle."

"Well, good, because I suspect you've got a problem with your blood sugar."

"I do not!"

"Look, Faith, humor me, okay? I know you think you've got that lingering flu virus—"

"I do—"

"But I think it's something else, and you can't just keep ignoring it, it's not safe."

What wasn't safe was how she'd actually thought he'd come here for another reason entirely, which was really humiliating when she dwelled on it, which of course she was. "I'll worry about myself."

"But that's silly. I'm right here and perfectly capable of getting those answers we need. We just get a little sample—"

She made an involuntary noise of angst and put her arms behind her back.

"It's just a finger prick."

What she really wanted was for him to vanish, to leave her alone with her fattening caramel popcorn and television set and overactive hormones, leave her alone to her very busy life which didn't have the room for a man. But before she could say so, he had her arm extended and resting on his thigh as he swabbed her finger with an alcohol pad.

"Okay, I lied. I don't like needles," she said, feeling absurdly nervous.