Before she could settle on trying to finish one sentence, she spun to flee.
“No,” I said, striding down the hallway and then the grand curling staircase to chase after her. The guards wouldn’t let her leave now. Not without my permission. “Wait.”
She shook her head, stopping mid-step at my command.
“Wait, Claire.”
Frowning, she slowly faced me. “Dr. Donovon,” she corrected.
“Why the formality now?” I teased, reaching the foyer and approaching her as she stood there like a deer caught in headlights, freaked out and eager to sprint to safety. “You’re a guest in my home. No formality is required here.”
“I’m not a guest.” She furrowed her brow. “A butler, Marcus?”
“Martin,” I corrected with a nod.
“He answered the number you gave me.”
I crossed my arms, or tried to until the twinge of pain at my shoulder reminded me that I shouldn’t. “Aw. You missed me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I called to schedule a follow-up for your injuries. He told me to come now.” Under my stare, she looked away and let a little of that sheepishness sneak into her eyes. “But I don’t need to stay. It’s not my intention to interfere with…”
I raised my brows, amused. “With what?” Lifting my hand, I gestured at the empty foyer, the quiet floor. “I’m not busy.”
“It sounded like you were a moment ago.”
Yeah, she heard it all.
“And I really don’t want to interfere with anything between you and your… lover.” She frowned again, almost wincing as she looked everywhere but at me.
“Lover?” I huffed a laugh and tipped my head to the side, guiding her to follow me into a sitting room. “She isn’t my lover.” I sat on the couch, glad that the guards positioned near the front entrance closed the doors to this room. Privacy with this blushing, shy doctor would be wise.
As I began to unbutton my shirt, her gaze zeroed in on the movement of my fingers.
“I don’t have a lover,” I added, curious whether she’d be happy to hear that.
She shook her head, tearing her gaze from my chest as I revealed it. “That’s not what it sounded like.”
“What did that private conversation sound like, then?” I asked, continuing to remove my shirt so she could check my wound on my shoulder.
“I didn’t come to pry.”
I shrugged. “But you listened.”
“Because you were shouting and yelling. It was impossible to miss. They let me in and you two were just fighting like a couple would.”
“No, we were not.” I dropped my shirt and beckoned her to approach me, crooking my fingers to direct her. “I was arguing with my daughter.”
She furrowed her brow again, and I wondered how such a simple, puzzled expression could be so endearing. So intriguing. Was there anything this doctor could do that wouldn’t make me want to peel back all her layers and know who she was?
“Yes, my daughter.”
Stepping toward me, she kept that reserved and wary frown on her face. After she put her tote bag down, she pulled out a stethoscope. “I wasn’t aware you had a daughter.”
“I wasn’t aware you were so eager to learn about who I am.”
She chilled her face, giving me a smirk as she stepped closer and stood between my legs. Pressing the tab of the stethoscope to my chest, I watched her and fought the fantasy of her touching me there with her fingers. Or her mouth.
“She looks young enough to be your daughter,” she said.
