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eye, he could still see the smooth bare skin of her belly, her legs, her breasts. Her belly was flat, her navel intriguingly deep; her legs were shapely, slender and well toned, her breasts pleasingly full.

      Amazing how much detail he’d managed to absorb in those few burning moments.

      He could accurately visualize her bra and panties, too, pristine white cotton, quite modestly cut. Plain, functional and practical underwear, the polar opposite of those sensual confections labeled lingerie, the stuff that was supposed to inspire male fantasies.

      It seemed that Trey needed no such inspiration. Simply the sight of Callie Sheely in her serviceable underwear sent a shock wave of arousal through him so fast that within moments his body was hot and hard.

      Instinctively he took a step closer to her.

      â€œTrey, just in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in the women’s locker room,” Callie informed him through gritted teeth.

      Trey’s eyes widened and he was suddenly aware of the hyena-like screeching in the background. He cast a quick glance at the blond nurse, then looked back at Callie.

      And blinked. “What?”

      Callie groaned. “I feel like I’m trapped in an especially stupid episode of a very bad sitcom. I would’ve never thought you were capable of looking dim, but somehow you’ve nailed that ‘huh?’ the scene requires.”

      â€œI don’t know what you mean,” growled Trey, gathering his wits. It took longer than expected, and he blamed the surreal atmosphere. “I don’t watch much TV and I certainly don’t waste my time on bad sitcoms. And why would anyone bother to watch an especially stupid episode of anything?”

      â€œMaybe to find a way out of a ridiculous situation—like this one,” Callie said tersely. She shot a glare over his shoulder. “Jennifer, please stop screaming. Remember, he’s Trey Weldon, not Dracula.”

      â€œAre you two having a big fight?” the blonde demanded a bit hoarsely. “A domestic-dispute kind of thing? Did he come raging in here after you, Callie?”

      â€œDamn,” muttered Trey. “Is that the story she’ll spread all over the hospital?”

      â€œWell, there’s always the stock sitcom solution to fall back on,” Callie murmured. “Shall I try it?”

      Trey wondered if the dim “huh?” expression she’d accused him of had reappeared on his face. “Try what?”

      â€œYou took the wrong door by mistake, Dr. Weldon.” Callie’s voice was clear and firm. “You made a wrong turn and ended up in here instead of the men’s locker room.”

      â€œOh sure, like I’m going to believe that!” Jennifer was scornful.

      Trey couldn’t blame her. “As excuses go, that’s exceptionally poor, Sheely.”

      â€œOf course it is. That’s the point, I think. The excuse is so dumb, it somehow works,” Callie whispered back to him. “Or else the scene fades to a commercial break. Too bad we don’t have that option now.”

      â€œWhat were you going to do to Callie, Dr. Weldon?” Jennifer’s voice had a definitely accusing edge. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”

      Trey decided her inquisition was worse than her shrieking, because the questions raised disturbing ones of his own. What would he have done if Jennifer hadn’t been screamingly present?

      He felt another flash of sexual heat streak through him. What in the world was happening to him? Here he was in the women’s locker room, after deliberately barging in on Callie Sheely, not even caring that she had retreated to a place off-limits to him.

      She had run off in the midst of their argument, leaving him frustrated and exasperated, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t experienced frustration and exasperation before.

      He had, plenty of times. It came with the territory when you were the smartest—and usually the youngest—in any class since the age of three. But for his feelings to turn physical, sexual, driving him to act impulsively like some kind of macho hothead…

      Such behavior was totally uncharacteristic of him; he’d made sure of that. He saw himself as a thinker, a planner, a careful strategist, and that’s exactly what he had become. Cerebral and controlled. The quintessential neurosurgeon, if one ascribed to the surgeons’ personalities matching their specialties’ stereotypes.

      â€œHe simply walked in here by mistake, Jennifer,” Callie kept insisting. “Dr. Weldon is a brilliant surgeon, but he is pathetic when it comes to knowing his way around. He’s always getting lost, takes a left when he should go right and a right when he means to go left. I think he could be classified as directionally challenged. Right, Trey?”

      Trey almost automatically denied it. He had a superb sense of direction and prided himself on it. He’d had no trouble adapting to Pittsburgh’s one hundred plus bridges crossing the three rivers, or to all the hills and winding streets, many of them one-way. He didn’t bemoan the infamous lack of road signs that caused so many motorists, even lifelong residents, to get hopelessly lost. He didn’t need them.

      No, one thing he definitely was not, was directionally challenged.

      He glanced down at Callie, about to lodge his protest. She rolled her eyes heavenward and grimaced.

      â€œOh, yes,” he said quickly. “Right.”

      How could he forget, even for a split second, that Callie was making excuses for him, in order to convince the melodramatic Jennifer that she’d drawn all the wrong conclusions?

      Which meant that once again he was faced with the question that plagued him, tantalized him, too. Without Jennifer’s presence, just what would he have done with Callie Sheely?

      Sheely, his ever-reliable assistant, his capable second-set-of-hands who’d stood before him, her bare skin so smooth and silky, her no-nonsense underwear covering more than it revealed, paradoxically inflaming him more than any racy black thong or see-through brassiere.

      Trey swallowed, hard. “Sorry. I, uh, made a wrong turn. A mistake. I’m…distracted today.” He turned and abruptly strode off.

      Inside the women’s locker room, Callie and Jennifer faced each other.

      â€œHe made a wrong turn, did he?” Jennifer said archly. “He came in here by mistake? So that’s your story and you’re sticking with it?”

      â€œPretty much.” Callie shrugged. She hoped it appeared artless, that she seemed unconcerned.

      Which she most definitely wasn’t. Her insides were churning. She could still see Trey’s intense blue gaze fixed on her. She could still feel his eyes on her, as if he had physically touched her. If Jennifer hadn’t been here….

      â€œI noticed that his shirt was inside out,” Jennifer persisted. “Like maybe you’d been in the middle of—something physical—and then you ran away and he pursued you into—”

      â€œWe were in the middle of neurosurgery for the past six hours or so, Jen. You can check that out if you want. And I…I didn’t notice his scrubs or how he was wearing them. It’s not something I ever pay attention to.”

      Jennifer snickered her disbelief. “If you say so, Sheely.”

      Callie quickly snatched her sweats from the locker and pulled them on. She caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror. Her body was lost in the baggy navy pants and Penn State sweatshirt, which she’d thrown on this morning for the drive

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