Chapter 4 Chapter 4

AJ couldn't help but chuckle when the 'friendly' doctor walked away from him, her hips swaying with indignation. He had picked up on her annoyed attitude—impossible to miss with that steel-edged tongue. But he'd also caught the other signals her body was broadcasting loud and clear. The way her breath had quickened when she leaned in close. The flush creeping up her neck. And most tellingly, the hard outline of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her scrubs, practically demanding his attention every time she moved.

She wanted him.

The feeling was mutual—his body had responded to her proximity with an urgency that surprised him. But he'd learned his lesson about mixing business with pleasure among colleagues. Nurses were one thing; they worked different schedules, different departments. But doctors? That was asking for complications he didn't need. Even though something about her touch had seemed oddly familiar, like muscle memory his brain couldn't quite access.

"Hi."

A petite redhead materialized in his line of sight, effectively blocking his view of Katherine's retreating form.

AJ's chest rumbled with an involuntary groan. If there was one thing that bypassed his rational brain and spoke directly to his anatomy, it was redheads. Each hair color represented something specific to him—a sexual constellation he'd mapped over years of enthusiastic research. He didn't believe in blonde stereotypes, mainly because the blondes he encountered had medical degrees and could discuss surgical techniques while doing things that would make a sailor blush. He loved them tough and smart, with vocabularies as extensive in the bedroom as in the operating room.

But redheads? God, redheads were his kryptonite. In his admittedly extensive experience, women with that particular shade of fire were willing to try almost anything between the sheets. The kind of adventurous that turned a good night into a legendary one.

Which explained why all the blood immediately evacuated his brain and rushed southward with the speed of a code blue response.

AJ stood up from the gurney, unfolding to his full six-foot-three height. He had the distinct pleasure of watching the redhead's green eyes widen as she took in his full length and size, her gaze traveling up, up, up until she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

"You're a big guy."

Katherine's words echoed in his head, and he chuckled at the memory of her stunned expression in the on-call room. But when the redhead's pink tongue swept slowly over her full lips—a deliberate, calculated movement—every thought of Doctor Henry evaporated like morning mist. The redhead commanded his complete attention now, her body language screaming invitation.

"Maybe we can get a drink later," she said, her voice dropping into that breathy register women used when they wanted to telegraph exactly where the evening would end.

"Maybe." AJ lowered his head, bringing his mouth close to her ear, close enough that his breath would wash over her skin. "But if you can convince me, you'll get a definite 'yes'."

"I'm a gymnast," she purred through crimson-painted lips that formed a perfect pout.

AJ chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his chest. His groin definitely appreciated that particular piece of information, responding with enthusiastic interest. Flexibility was a highly underrated quality. This night, regardless of whatever chaos the hospital threw at him, would definitely have a spectacular ending.

"Name and number, and I'll pick you up at the end of the shift."

He watched as she practically snatched the pen from his hand, scribbling her details with an eagerness that confirmed his initial assessment. This one knew what she wanted and wasn't shy about going after it. His favorite kind.

"Chelsea. With a heart over the 'i,'" she said, handing back the paper with a wink.

There's no 'i' in Chelsea, AJ thought, but he just smiled and pocketed the number.

A prickling sensation crawled up the back of his neck—that instinctive awareness of being watched. When he lifted his head, he found himself the target of multiple hostile glares from nurses stationed at various points around the floor. Their expressions ranged from disapproving to outright murderous. He'd apparently violated some unspoken code by giving his attention to Chelsea instead of... who? The brunette from earlier? The blonde who'd winked at him last week?

He turned away from the collective glowering and was unlucky enough to catch Katherine's face across the nurses' station.

Her disapproving frown hit him like a physical force. That stubborn chin jutted out again, and her blue-grey eyes blazed with something that looked uncomfortably like disappointment. But why would she care? They'd just met. She had no claim on him, no right to that expression that his sister Catalella wore when she caught him sneaking in at dawn.

AJ felt his body shiver with an unfamiliar sensation—censure, or maybe guilt, though he couldn't fathom why. There was absolutely no way he was going to invite another opinionated, critical woman into his life. That was what he had Catalella and Lisette for—two sisters who'd perfected the art of making him feel like a misbehaving teenager well into his adulthood.

But Katherine kept staring at him, and something in her expression made him pause. Sadness flickered in those blue-grey depths before rage muscled it aside, the two emotions warring for dominance. Her jaw clenched, unclenched, clenched again. She looked like she wanted to either cry or punch him, possibly both simultaneously.

Why does she care?

And why did her voice do that thing—that strange, inexplicable thing where it bypassed his ears entirely and seemed to resonate directly in his bones? He'd felt it when she'd hissed at him to control his hormones, that scratchy whisper wrapping around his spine and squeezing. Arousal had flooded through him even as she'd been insulting him.

She seemed vaguely familiar, like a song he'd heard once but couldn't quite place. The way she'd touched his forehead, those gentle but sure fingers examining his wound—his body had responded with recognition even if his mind couldn't catch up. Something about the cadence of her breathing, the scent of her skin, the precise pressure of her hands triggered memories that slithered away before he could grasp them.

But that was a mystery for another day.

Right now he had a date to look forward to, a gymnast who'd promised to make his night interesting. Whatever strange pull he felt toward the prickly Doctor Henry would have to remain unexplored territory.

His pager went off again, shrill and insistent.

AJ sighed and headed toward the emergency department, very deliberately not looking back at Katherine. He didn't need to see that expression on her face again—the one that made him feel like he'd forgotten something important.

Even if, somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected he had.