“Lieutenant Cunningham?”
His deep chuckle has warmth settling deep in my belly. “I was afraid you’d forgotten about me.”
Not hardly. Asher Cunningham is not a man I can easily forget.
“I’m surprised to hear from you. I left messages but you never returned my calls.”
“Sorry about that. I had to take care of some things with my family out of town.”
“Is everything okay?”
“For the most part.” There’s some hesitation in his reply. “I was hoping I could see you next week. Monday preferably. The sooner the better.”
His voice sounds different. Lighter but still with an edge that has a shiver shooting down my spine, but I ignore the feeling and say, “I’ll have to look at my schedule but I’m sure I can squeeze you in. I’ll give you a call on Monday morning and we can go from there. Will that be okay?”
Silence.
I look at my phone and see the call is still connected and then put it to my ear once more. “Asher, are you still there?”
“I’m curious,” he says, his voice warm and husky, “do you give all your patients your personal number?”
My mouth goes completely dry as I shift on my feet. “Well, um, no. Not usually.”
“Then why me?”
That is a damn good question. Over the last two weeks I’ve asked myself the same thing but I haven’t been able to come up with a rational answer. I acted on impulse, which is not like me at all. But I could tell Asher wasn’t the kind of man who would easily confess his sins to just anyone, and for whatever reason, I needed to be that someone.
“Because I want to help you.”
“I would think that’s a standard reply, Doc. Now the truth.”
From the moment he walked into my office, my body seemed to take on a life of its own. I’ve never had that kind of reaction to a patient before. There’s something about him that pulls at a dark place deep inside of me. I can’t explain it. Giving him my personal number was completely irresponsible and reckless but I couldn’t stop myself.
Maybe it’s because, hidden behind all of those tattoos and cocky arrogance, I can see the pain he hides. And I’m desperate to find out what it is that caused that pain and what caused him to become so emotionally detached. I want to peel the layers and find out who this man really is.
When he confessed his urge to bend me over my desk, I thought I would incinerate right there on the spot. I did everything I could not to let him know the effect he had on me but those perceptive eyes seemed to pierce my sturdy armor.
What is it about him that has me so worked up?
Is it his dark navy blue eyes?
Sharp.
Intense.
Stripping me bare with his gaze alone. Is it his commanding presence? Or perhaps it’s the colorful tattoos covering each of his arms and the one peeking out from the collar of his uniform that make him look so dangerous.
“Have you been thinking about me?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“You’re my patient, Asher. Of course I’ve been concerned about you.”
He grunts at my reply. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
“Lieutenant,” I warn.
I’m way out of my element here. In my office I can control the conversation but here it feels too intimate. Too much.
Too forbidden.
