And damn did he fill out those scrubs. The sleeves looked painfully tight around his upper arms. Fabric stretched across his chest and loosened as it fell toward his tapered waist. Same with the bottoms—he had thigh muscles that didn’t quit.
Stop staring at his scrubs pants. I bet if you looked for it, you’d see he has a face.
Why, yes, yes he does.
Quite a face.Wow. Cool blue eyes whose gaze pierced her like the needles in her back, sending shivers down her spine. A broad, clear forehead, wide cheekbones and hollowed cheeks covered in golden whiskers that matched his tawny hair.
His name tag saidHunt. Because of course it did.
He’s a mountain lion and I’m his prey.
Wren clutched the top of the sheet with one hand at her chest and the other at the small of her back, hoping that her panties weren’t showing.
Just pretend you’re at the Met Gala wearing an evening gown with a plunging back. Own it.
Uh-huh.
The Met Gala was for people like her gorgeous subjects, not for her. So were guys who looked like good old Hunt here.
He stopped in front of her, a full head taller, and studied her impassively.
“Did you inhale any smoke?” he asked. “Any trouble breathing?”
Oh yeah, breathing. Breathing is goodshe thought when she realized she’d been holding her breath. She inhaled sharply as she shook her head.
“Nope, breathing is not a problem. Been doing it all my life. You could say I’m an expert at it.”
Right along with babbling when I’m anxious.
He reached for her hand, which was still clutching the sheet above her boobies, and she turned at the waist without thinking. The sheet started to slip on one side.
Ah, a tasteful side-boob for the nice gentleman. Good going.
“Sorry,” he said quickly as he jerked his hand back. “I just want to get a pulse-ox on you.” He held up a doodad with a tiny screen reading double zeroes.
“Right. Sure. Of course.” Wren pointed her index finger at him, which he studied, frowning.
Is my finger that ugly?She looked at her bright red nail for chips in the polish but found none.What’s the problem?
“Um, I’m going to have to remove your nail polish to get an accurate reading.”
“Oh. That might be a problem. It’s not polish, it’s dip and requires grinding with a Dremel.”
His lips pursed momentarily before those blue lagoons for eyes brightened. “No big, I can get a reading from your earlobe.” He brushed a lock of her hair back. His thumb grazed her cheek which started an earthquake in her chest.
Then he frowned as he jerked his hand back for the second time.
Oh, God, now what? I know I don’t have nail polish on my earlobes.
“Hmm. Before I can do that, let’s get all those needles out of you. We’ll start with the ones in your ears.”
Her eyes widened. “The ones in my…” She started to raise her hand to her ear and then thought better of it. “Oh yeah, he did put some there, didn’t he?”
Hunt leaned in. He had nice, fresh breath—oh God, I’m noticing hisbreath,seriously?—and studied her right ear.
“One drew some blood.”
“Really? How much?” Now she was dying to touch her ear.
