Her hair fell in golden waves over her shoulders and framed her face beautifully. Her pouty lips were rosy pink, mimicking the blush of her cheeks, and open with surprise. And she appeared to be holding her breath.
“Amber?” A smile burst across Robert’s lips because he never expected to see her again. “You’re Dr. Morgan? Why didn’t you say anything?”
When she didn’t move or make any attempt to answer, he realized why she was trying to make such a quick exit and why she had been hiding behind the laptop screen. She didn’t want him to know it was her. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong and thought back to the night they met.
She had purposely ditched him. But why? His feelings were hurt, and the reminder of what she’d done made the happy smile of recognition slide off his face. “I thought we hit it off. I thought you liked me.”
She exhaled loudly, and her shoulders fell with defeat. Still clutching the laptop to her chest, she spotted her hair clip, snatched it off the floor, and shook it in her fist. “Damn dollar store junk!”
He wanted to laugh because she was so cute, but his tender heart still felt the sting of rejection. “Why’d you leave and run out of the bar like that? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. I don’t get involved with athletes. I should have told you that from the beginning. I’m sorry I didn’t, and that’s my fault. I should have handled it better.”
“You knew who I was all along?”
She looked at him as if it were obvious. “The world knows who you are. You’re Robert Blade of the New Jersey Bucks. Every woman’s dream. America’s heartthrob. I should have never engaged in conversation with you in the first place, but you’re so damn good looking and charming that I couldn’t help myself.”
She displayed the same beautiful smile that made him fall for her at the bar, and his heart fluttered. It actually flip-flopped in his chest. Up until this moment, he thought it was just a cliché. It wasn’t. It was a real thing.
He replayed her words in his head, and his ego soared. “You think I’m good looking and charming?” he asked, gloating.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know how handsome you are and what a magnetic personality you have. Every female journalist and sports commentator who mentions your name comments on it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care what they think. I care what you think.”
“Why? Nothing is going to happen between us. I’m not even the one who’s going to be treating you. One of my colleagues—”
“I want you,” he interrupted.
Her face went blank. “What?”
He realized it sounded sexual, and he couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. “To be my doctor. I meant to say, I want you to be my doctor.”And a whole lot more.
Her fair complexion turned pink, and she lowered her eyes.
“I’m serious.” He wiped all humor and inuendo from his voice and his facial expression turned resolute. “I was told that you’re the best, and that’s exactly what I need. I can’t afford someone less knowledgeable in the field. My career is on the line. The Super Bowl. I can’t let my team down. I can’t let the fans down. Or my coach.”
That got her attention.
“People are counting on me,” he continued. “Plus, I need to heal. Fast. I can’t play around with an injury. I need the best.” He motioned to the degrees and accreditations on the walls of her office. “And that’s you.”
She took a moment to scan her frames certifications, as if she were a stranger reading them for the first time, or, maybe, it was a reaffirmation of her skills. She finally nodded. “As one of my patients, it would be unethical for me to pass you off to another doctor just because of my personal feelings. I can treat you.” She held up her hand when she saw the wide smile burst across his lips. “As long as you can agree that this is to remain completely professional.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He’d love to have the complete opposite of a professional relationship with her, but he knew that’s all they could have. For now.
“Fine.” She took a seat behind her desk and set down her laptop. “Let’s start over.”
She extended her hand, and he shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, as if it were their first introduction.
The corners of her lips curled upwards. “You as well.” Then she retracted her hand. “But I was asking for my glasses back.”
“Oh.” He forgot that he still had them and handed them to her. The frames were thick and square, nothing fancy or feminine, and they were incredibly hot.
She put them back on her face, scooped her long, wavy locks together and twisted them into a tight bun, much neater than it looked when she entered the room. Holding it together on top of her head with one hand, she dug in the top drawer of her desk with the other and retrieved a dish with hairpins. In seconds, the tightly secured bun was set in place. She looked totally put together. Like a sexy schoolteacher or a naughty librarian.Aaand keeping things professional lasted exactly 60 seconds.
“Meet me in the ultrasound room.” She picked up her laptop and headed toward the door.
“Wait. Where?”
