Hotshot Doc(53)

I’m a little in awe of him, even now. We’re alone, scrubbing out side by side. I feel like I’m standing next to a celebrity. I tell myself to stop stealing glances at his forearms. They’re nothing special. I repeat: NOTHING SPECIAL.

“You did well today,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice has the same effect as a finger running down my spine.

I smile. “Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

I peer at him from beneath my lashes. He’s smirking, but his attention is down on his hands as he rinses them under the faucet. “I’m trying something new: letting my assistants and nurses know I appreciate their hard work.”

My eyes widen. “Color me shocked.”

He finishes, grabs a towel, and rests his hip against the sink so he can assess me while he dries his hands. “Okay, now that we’re done with that, I have a question.”

Oh no.

I scrub extra hard, cheeks flooding with color. “What?”

Where’s that blasted resident now?!

“Did that contract say anything about us being friends?”

My stomach flutters. “Oh, well…yes. That was in addendum two. I—I mean, Linda thinks that would be okay.”

He laughs and shakes his head. I don’t think he knows what to do with me.

“You’re something else, Bailey.”

I nibble on my bottom lip, trying to fight back a smile.

“Just for the record…” I finish washing my hands and he hands me a fresh towel. “I don’t regret Sunday either. It’s just…”

He holds up his hands as if he gets it. “Hey, no need to explain. The contract did a pretty good job of that.” Then he holds out his hand. “Friends?”

I have to accept—any woman in her right mind would accept that outstretched hand—but the moment we touch, my gut clenches. It’s like we’re right back in his car, tearing at each other’s clothes, lost in lust. It feels so intense just to have his palm against mine my knees nearly buckle. I forget he’s waiting for me to speak until the dimple pops beside his mouth. He feels what I’m feeling. He knows there’s no way we’re just friends, which is exactly why he’s proposing the idea in the first place. This is a game to him, just like the contract was a game to me.

His eyes say, I know you want me to kiss you, but I’ll bide my time and play along.

I thought I was taking care of the situation by serving him with those papers. I thought it would give me the buffer I was so desperately seeking, but now I know it’s too little too late.

Dr. Russell wants me, and there’s a pretty good chance he’s going to get me.





Chapter 19





MATT



I shouldn’t have signed that damn contract. It was fake—obviously. Legally binding documents don’t usually start with the phrase To whom it may concern. Nonetheless, it’s still important. Bailey obviously freaked out after our kiss. I get it. It’s not as if I’ve been flirting and courting her for weeks. There was a steep transition between us going from distant coworkers to lust-filled lunatics making out in my car, me tearing at her clothes like a bear. Just because I’m ready for more doesn’t necessarily mean she is.

I want to make sure she doesn’t feel pressured. I want to respect her wishes and give her the space she’s clearly after. The trouble is, I’m not sure I can. Before we kissed, I might have written Bailey off as a passing fancy—a beautiful woman, yes, but not necessarily someone I should get involved with—but now, it’s different. How am I supposed to forget what it felt like to have her kiss me like she was dying for it, like she couldn’t get enough?

I catch her watching me in the operating room, the furtive glances she thinks I don’t notice. When our eyes lock, her cheeks flood with color. When my hand accidentally brushes against hers as she passes me an instrument, she acts like I just whispered a sweet nothing in her ear.

She’s a mess. After our surgery on Monday, she bolts as soon as possible. There’s no chance to pull her aside or have a private moment.

On Wednesday, she comes to find me in the doctors’ lounge. She’s standing in the doorway, wringing out her hands and catching the notice of a few of my colleagues, not necessarily for the right reasons. She’s still in her navy scrubs and though she isn’t trying to be, she’s adorable. Blonde ponytail. High cheekbones. Dark lashes. When she catches sight of me, she smiles, and now she’s not just adorable, she’s drop-dead gorgeous.

I wish she had to wear my name embroidered on her scrubs in size 48 font.

“You can come in, you know,” I say as I approach. “No one will shout at you.”

She laughs but stays perfectly poised right where she is. I’m not sure she believes me. “Yeah, right. This place might as well have a red carpet leading up to it and a bouncer by the door.” Her eyes widen over my shoulder. “Oh my god, is that a chocolate fountain in the corner?”

I turn and sure enough, it is. I’m slightly embarrassed.

“Jesus,” she says under her breath. “Do you guys get your lunches catered every day?”

I shrug. “It’s easier that way. None of us have time to brownbag it.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “You know the vending machine in our lounge doesn’t even accept dollar bills anymore? We have to go get change from the gas station down the street if we want a candy bar.”