Finding Dr. Right. Lisa B. Kamps
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under-tones. Catherine raised her eyebrows in the man’s general direction and let out a hasty sigh, her sympathy decreasing several notches.
“Mr. Conners, maybe I should—”
The exam room door swung quickly inward, admitting Gwen and one of the men who passed for building security. “Dr. Wilson, did you need some help?” Catherine waved off the security officer’s help, wondering why Gwen had called him for help when a strangled exclamation erupted next to her.
“Doctor!”
She turned suddenly in the direction of the voice and breathed in so quickly she nearly coughed. The man was staring at her with the fierce glare of a predator, his look all the more dangerous because of his eyes. A deep golden color fringed in a wealth of dark lashes, they were a lion’s eyes.
Feral in their intensity, they traveled from the well-worn flats she had hastily thrown on this morning, along loose-fitting trousers and casual blouse, stopping finally to meet her gaze. Catherine swallowed tightly and reconsidered her earlier assessment of any threat the man presented. She’d been wrong to think he wasn’t dangerous. Very wrong.
“Doctor?” This time the word was uttered as a questioning groan. Catherine had endured plenty of surprised patients in the past but this man seemed genuinely shocked to realize she was a doctor. She swallowed her irritation at his chauvinism, cleared her throat and leaned slightly forward, forcing a smile.
“I’m Dr. Wilson. I’m filling in for Dr. Porter today. I thought he had informed all his patients about that.” She offered her hand, felt it grow warm as it was suddenly clasped in the grip of his larger one. Her face flushed as the man continued to stare at her, and she self-consciously cleared her throat as she tried to remove her hand from his.
Instead of releasing it, he held tighter and she realized he was trying to stand, pulling her up along with him. He was merely using her as leverage to stand. She tightened her own grip and stood with him, watching as he slowly rose.
And rose. And rose.
She leaned her head back to look up at him, then blinked. Her imagination had kicked in again. He was only a few inches taller than six feet, not towering over her by a foot as she first thought in that single second when he had straightened.
“Dr. Wilson, do you still need me?” The uncertain voice from behind made her realize she had been staring. She cleared her throat and turned quickly to face the security guard, thankful for his interruption. Catherine shook her head and dismissed him with a quick word of thanks, then faced her patient, motioning again to the exam table.
“I think you might be more comfortable sitting down, Mr. Conners.” She busied herself with studying his chart, cursing the heat in her face as she tried hard not to notice the play of muscles in his bare legs as he hoisted himself onto the table.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice was deep, tinged with embarrassment. Catherine stepped next to the table and offered him a gentle smile, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
“No problem. Why don’t you lie back while I have a look at your knee.” His body relaxed under her touch as he laid back. She focused her attention away from his powerful thighs and on his left knee, gently probing around the kneecap, careful of pushing too hard around the recent incisions.
The flesh beneath her fingers was slightly swollen and warm to her touch. She studied the movement of the kneecap, slowly pushing it back and forth. The leg jerked slightly when she pushed in at the bottom of the kneecap.
“Did that hurt?” She turned to study his face for the telltale signs of a patient unwilling to admit pain. She didn’t have to look too hard; it was there in his careless shrug, in his too-hard study of the hands folded across his waist.
“Not too bad.”
Catherine nodded with a noncommittal murmur and continued her probing, this time pushing in slightly on the kneecap. Barely perceptible under her touch was a minor grating, resulting in another small jerk. She gave his leg a reassuring pat then retrieved his file from the countertop as he sat up.
“When was your surgery?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“And you’ve started physical therapy?”
“Yes.”
Catherine murmured and made a note in his file, the scratching of her pen loud in the silence.
“Is…there a problem?”
“Nothing to worry about.” Catherine looked up from the notes she was scribbling on his chart and gave him a reassuring smile. “Your knee is still a little swollen and there’s some roughness under the kneecap, but it’s early still. Make an appointment to see Dr. Porter next week. In the meantime, keep up with the therapy but don’t overdo it.”
He looked at her with an unreadable expression and Catherine waited patiently for the usual questions. Instead, he shrugged once and offered her a hesitant smile. She smiled back and turned, only to be stopped by the ever-present Gwen.
“Catherine, I didn’t get a chance to draw the blood sample Dr. Porter had requested.” There was a touch of subtle humor in her words, which were immediately followed by a nearly inaudible groan from Mr. Conners. Catherine bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling at his pale face.
“I think we can probably get away without it this time, Gwen. If Brian really needs it, he’ll get it next week.”
Catherine closed the door behind her and allowed herself a small chuckle at the sound of Mr. Conners’s huge sigh of relief.
Silence. Absolute silence.
Catherine leaned back in the oversize chair, propped her feet on the desk, and closed her eyes to enjoy the brief solitude. She had reports to dictate, files to review and a work schedule that needed to be revamped in order to fit in another dozen or so things that just had to be done. But for now all she wanted was to enjoy the solitude.
The harsh buzz of the intercom shattered the quiet and she bolted upright. Her foot slipped and she winced as her bare heel scraped the rounded edge of the desk. Muttering, she leaned over the desk and jabbed the intercom.
“Yes? What is it?”
“Dr. Wilson, Mr. Conners has asked to see you.”
Taking a deep breath, Catherine counted to three then jabbed the button again. “Give me a few minutes—”
Before she could release her finger, the door to her office swung open and the man in question walked in.
“Never mind…” Her voice trailed off as she lifted her hand from the machine. Catherine immediately straightened in her chair, searching with bare feet for the shoes she had kicked off just a few minutes earlier. She managed to slip a foot into one just as he approached the desk.
“Mr. Conners. Is there something I can help you with?” She motioned to the chair across from her desk, still searching for the other shoe. Her toe brushed against soft leather and she stretched her leg in an attempt to pull it closer. The curious glance from the man across from her didn’t stop her as she leaned back in her chair and probed farther under the desk.
“It’s Nathan.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My name. Please, call me Nathan.” Heat rose to her face under his close scrutiny. “Dr. Wilson, is something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, your knee seems to be recovering—”
“I wasn’t referring to my knee. You look…” His voice trailed off as he glanced down at the floor. A look of confusion crossed his face and she knew instantly that she had succeeded in pushing her missing shoe from under the desk.
She sat up and tried to look professional, even when he bent over to retrieve the lost shoe. He held the worn leather loafer in one large hand, raised his eyebrows, then passed it across the desk