But Marianne was her auditor. Her antagonist. The woman who could end her career with a single report. This was the worst possible idea, the most destructive choice she could make.
And she wanted it anyway. Wanted it more than she had wanted anything in years.
"Marianne." The name came out rough, barely voiced.
The sound broke whatever spell had held them frozen. Marianne pulled her hand back as if she had been burned, her composure reassembling itself with visible effort.
"It's late." Her voice was steady, but a pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat. "We should... I should go."
"Marianne—"
"The reviews are looking better. You've made real progress tonight." Marianne was already standing, gathering her briefcase with movements that were too fast, too jerky to becasual. "I'll send you notes on the remaining cases. You should be able to finish them on your own now."
"Wait."
But Marianne was already at the door, her back straight and her chin lifted, every line of her body projecting a professionalism that felt like armor. "Goodnight, Dr. Bennett. Thank you for your cooperation with the review process."
The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded like an ending.
Isla sat motionless in the empty office, surrounded by files and the ghost of a touch that had lasted barely three seconds. Her hand was still warm where Marianne's fingers had brushed against it. Her heart was still racing, blood pounding in her ears with a rhythm that had nothing to do with work or exhaustion.
She wanted Marianne Cole.
The realization crashed through her like a wave, undeniable and devastating. Not just wanted her in some abstract, theoretical way, but wanted her with an intensity that felt like falling, like losing control, like every careful boundary she had built was suddenly made of paper.
She wanted to follow Marianne out of this office and press her against the nearest wall. Wanted to find out what sounds she made when her composure finally cracked. Wanted to trace every line of that controlled body and discover what lay underneath the armor.
It was insane. It was impossible. It was the worst possible complication at the worst possible time.
Marianne was still building a case that could end Isla's career. They were still on opposite sides of a conflict that showed no signs of resolving. Any relationship between them would be professional suicide for both of them, a scandal that would give the board exactly the excuse they needed to remove Isla from the equation entirely.
And yet.
Isla couldn't stop thinking about the way Marianne had looked at her before she fled. The hunger in her eyes, the visible effort of restraint. The way her voice had trembled when she said goodnight.
This wasn't one-sided. Whatever was happening between them, Marianne felt it too.
The knowledge should have been terrifying. In many ways, it was. But underneath the fear, Isla felt something else stirring. Hope, maybe. Or recognition. The sense that she had finally found someone who understood what it meant to build walls around yourself, to hold the world at arm's length because letting anyone close felt too dangerous.
Marianne understood because she did it too. They were mirrors of each other, opposites in approach but identical in their isolation. Two people who had learned that safety meant control, that vulnerability meant risk, that wanting something badly enough to let your guard down was the fastest way to get hurt.
But maybe, Isla thought, maybe there was another way. Maybe the walls they had built could protect them together instead of keeping them apart.
Or maybe that was just exhaustion and desire talking, making her believe in possibilities that would seem ridiculous in the light of day.
Isla stood slowly and began gathering the files, her movements mechanical. The chart reviews would wait. The committee would wait. Everything would wait.
Right now, she needed to go home and figure out what she was going to do about the fact that she was falling for the woman who held her career in her hands.
No answers came. Just the memory of Marianne's fingers against hers, and the certainty that nothing was ever going to be the same.
7
MARIANNE
Three weeks after the board presentation, Marianne sat in her office with the completed peer review documentation spread across her desk. The formal hearing had been brutal.
Marianne sat in her office afterward, the documentation spread across her desk like evidence at a crime scene. Three hours of presenting case files, outcome data, and deviation analyses to a panel of hospital administrators who saw nothing but liability. Three hours of watching Isla sit rigid in her chair while her career was dissected and weighed and found wanting.
