Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Katherine Henry's breath caught as the man before her shifted his weight, muscles rippling beneath his fitted t-shirt. His gaze swept over her face—something flickered there, hot and unmistakable, before it vanished like smoke. Her stomach dropped. Whatever interest had sparked in those brown eyes died so quickly she wondered if she'd imagined it.

Heat pooled low in her belly despite his sudden indifference. God, he was massive. Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching to explore the hard planes of his chest, to discover if his skin was as warm as it looked.

"Do you mind helping me with this?"

Katherine's tongue darted out, wetting her suddenly dry lips. The fantasy of running her hands over that sculpted body shattered.

"What? Help you with what?" The words scraped out of her raw throat like sandpaper.

AJ chuckled, the sound rolling through her like warm honey, coating her insides with liquid heat. "Can you help me with the cut on my head?"

"Sure, I am a doctor!" The words burst out too loud, too defensive. Katherine bit down hard on her tongue. Flames licked up her neck to her cheeks as his mouth curved into a smile that should be illegal. "Of course, I'm a doctor that's why I'm here. So, are you, you are a doctor too? And—I'm going to shut up now."

"How about we go to the nurses' station, and you can look after me there."

His lips—those perfectly sculpted, sinfully full lips—pulled into a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Katherine's knees weakened. Those lips were weapons of mass seduction, she was certain of it. The blood matting his hair should have made him look pathetic, vulnerable. Instead, he looked roguishly disheveled, like he'd just rolled out of someone's bed. Her body remembered rolling out of his.

"Of course," Katherine snorted, crossing her arms to keep from reaching for him. "Do you use that line a lot?"

"That wasn't a line. I just want you to stitch me up. If you can't, I'll get someone else to do it." He pivoted toward the door, dismissing her.

Katherine's hand shot out before she could stop herself. Her fingers barely met around the solid curve of his bicep—rock hard beneath her palm, the kind of arm that could pin a woman to a mattress or the leather seat of a car. Her breath hitched. She desperately wanted those arms caging her in again, crushing her against his chest until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

Adrian opened the door. Fluorescent light flooded in, harsh and exposing. Katherine blinked against it, stepping into the hallway where a dozen pairs of eyes swiveled toward them. Whispers started immediately, heads bending together. One nurse—a petite brunette with her hair in a severe bun—stared at them with something that looked almost like grief before her expression twisted into pure venom.

"I think that one likes you," Katherine said, nodding toward the seething nurse.

"If my memory serves me right, she likes me a lot." The grin he flashed her was pure masculine pride.

"Oh brother, you are bad news, aren't you?" Katherine forced a laugh that felt brittle in her throat. "It's not bleeding too bad. A band aid will do just fine. Take a seat on the gurney and I'll be right back."

Her hands moved on autopilot, arranging instruments on the sterile tray with mechanical precision. Gloves snapped against her wrists. She turned back toward Adrian just as a blonde nurse sashayed past, her hips swaying like a metronome. Adrian's eye dropped, following the movement, and he winked.

Something inside Katherine's chest cracked. Rage flooded in through the fissure, hot and acidic. She stood three feet away from him—three goddamn feet—and he looked right through her like she was made of glass. But that nurse got a wink. The angry brunette got recognition. How many others in this hospital had gotten more than that?

Her fingers tightened around a suture needle until the metal bit into her palm through the glove. The urge to take a scalpel and slice those traitorous lips right off his face surged through her so strongly her hand actually moved toward the tray.

"Try and control your hormones for five minutes, Doctor Ross," she hissed, each word sharp enough to cut. Her own hormones were finally on a leash, locked down tight where they belonged. She was in control now. Professional. Detached. "Do you want something for the pain?"

"No, I have to keep a clear head, I'm on call tonight." His grunt when the needle pierced his skin sent an unwelcome thrill through her traitorous body.

Of course. Sexy, built like a god, and stoic about pain too. Katherine fought the urge to drive her knee into his crotch.

This closeness was torture. Her thighs brushed against his knees as she leaned in to work. His body heat radiated against her, and with every breath she inhaled that scent—clean soap and male musk and something uniquely him that she'd never forgotten. The back seat of his Range Rover materialized in her mind with painful clarity. Leather squeaking beneath her bare back. Windows fogged white. His weight pressing her into the seat as their bodies moved together in the darkness. The bonfire had blazed in the distance, music and laughter floating on the night air, and the possibility of discovery had made every touch electric.

Not romantic. God, no. But thrilling in a way that still made her pulse spike two years later.

Now she stood between those same powerful thighs—thighs she'd wrapped her legs around, thighs she'd dug her nails into—treating him like any other patient. Like a stranger.

Because that's what she was to him. A stranger.

'Take care of me.' Her own voice echoed in her memory, breathy and desperate. Her brothers had dragged her to that bonfire, insisting she needed fun. They'd been right. But fun had an expiration date, apparently. Two years was long enough to erase a person completely.

"I think you might just live long enough to seduce all the nurses on this floor, Doctor Ross," Katherine said, tying off the final suture with more force than necessary.

"Thank you, Doctor…" He trailed off, his smile faltering around the edges. The embarrassment in his eyes was almost satisfying.

Almost.

"The name is Katherine Henry, but my patients call me Doctor Henry."

She watched his face, searching for the slightest flicker of recognition. A widening of the eyes. A pause. Anything. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she waited for him to remember. To say something. To prove that night had meant something more than just another conquest in a long line of them.

Nothing. His expression remained pleasant but blank, like she'd just introduced herself for the very first time.

Disappointment settled in her stomach like a stone. Of course he didn't remember. He probably didn't remember the names of the nurses he'd screwed this week, let alone some random girl from a bonfire almost two years ago.

"I don't seduce them," he mumbled, something defensive creeping into his tone. "They just seem to come to me."

"Cum with you or by you?" The words shot out before Katherine could stop them, barbed and cruel.

Adrian flinched.

Guilt crashed through her immediately.

"Sorry," she said quickly, but the damage was done. She'd let him see her anger, and now he'd wonder why. "They flock to you because you are a sexy guy. One look at you, and they want to gobble you up. You are like sex on legs."

"You mean that?"

The smile crept back across his face like sunrise, slow and warm and devastating. His eyes danced with renewed confidence, and Katherine wanted to slap herself for feeding his ego.

"I rarely pay any men compliments. My three brothers taught me that. So…you should take what I said as a compliment and run with it."

"I have two sisters. When I saw you stick out your stubborn chin I wanted to turn in the other direction and run."

"Siblings, they ruin your life, but living without them is unimaginable." Katherine stripped off her gloves with sharp, efficient movements and dropped them in the bin. "There, you're done. You'd better go figure out why they're paging you."

"Uh-huh, thanks. By the way…could I get your number?"

You already have it, you jackass.

The words burned on her tongue, demanding to be spoken. Katherine imagined his face if she said them—the confusion, then the slow dawning horror as memory finally kicked in. Two years ago in the back of his car. Her phone number programmed into his contacts with a promise to call that never came.

Instead, she smiled—the polite, professional smile she'd perfected during residency that revealed absolutely nothing.

Then she shook her head and walked away, her spine straight and her dignity intact.

Even if her heart felt like he'd just stitched it up with the same careless efficiency she'd used on his forehead.