“So just dramatic, then,” he replied.
Wow.
“What kind of bedside manner is this?”
He clicked the pen light off, slowly letting go of me. “None. I’m off today.”
The second I had my hand wrapped around my IV drip pole, I stumbled back from him, giving myself enough room to breathe while he slowly set the light down on the counter. He tracked me as I moved, intense and predatory in a way that somehow radiated dominance.
Maybe it was in the poised demeanor, or the impassive expression he wore. Maybe in how he slowly crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his body just enough to rest against the nurse’s station.
Something in my gut churned. Not unpleasantly, but in the kind of way I got when I was finding it hard to ignore the primal urge to find someone to take me back home and fuck me until I was no longer the person I was when I first walked into that bedroom.
Swallowing hard, I forced those thoughts down. “If it’s your day off, then why are you here?”
He shrugged. “Is that any ofyourbusiness?”
“It is when you shove a flashlight in my face.”
“You were draped over the counter looking like you’d found out your rich husband of fifty years just died and left you nothing in the will. What else was I supposed to think when coming up on a sight like that?”
My face flushed instantly. “I was not beingthatdramatic.”
“So you agree. Youwerebeing dramatic.”
He said it like it was some sort of checkmate. Like he’d just won at a game I wasn’t even aware we were playing. There was a smug shift to his otherwise blank face, hardly noticeable butdefinitelythere the longer I stared at him.
If someone were to ask me to point it out, to name what specific places of his features were telling me that he wasbeing a complete asshole, I’d have nothing to give. No paper to dissertate or long and lengthy explanation to argue my side.
But thevibewas definitely there.
My jaw ached with how hard I was clenching my teeth.
“If I had to guess,” he went on. “About the reason you were asking my nurse about a cataloged list of things recovered on your surgery date…”
My heart pounded when he trailed off.
Stupid, so stupid, to be embarrassed about something like this. This woman who was well past the age of retirement would have no earthly idea what the fuck a waist chain was if Dr. Montgomery spilled the beans in front of her or why there was any significance behind them to begin with and why a man like me, who was a fucking cop, would be wearing one.
He was just mocking me for his own sick and twisted pleasure. To get a rise out of me and to see me squirm.
What else would excite a surgeon more than getting to play around with a patient for the fun of it?
Wait a second.
My eyes narrowed. “Dr. Montgomery.”
“Yes.”
“Whatdoyou think I’m looking for?”
There was a beat of silence that descended over us.
Was it possible to uncheck a checkmate?
To catch someone in a bluff was a rare thing. Even more so when it was an intimidating personality like Dr. Montgomery’s. He was the type you seldom crossed if you knew what was good for you and hardly looked to for emotional comfort. Personalities like his were stone cold blocks of eyes that had yet to feel the warm, burning touch of humility.
I’d known a few of his type back in my days at the academy. Had worked one-on-one with them on a few separate occasionsand had grown to have a healthy fear of the biting tongue that was waiting to be unleashed at the right opportunity.
