Frustration had him clenching one hand into a fist. “How do you know the senator?”
“I really don’t.” There was enough irony in her tone that Ace’s spine stiffened. He had the most basic urge to go punch the politician in the face, which wouldn’t hurt his day in the slightest. It might get him arrested, however. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
Her finely arched brows drew down. “To get the bandage? Yes, Ace. I need your face in the examination room.” Light pink slid into her cheeks.
At least he’d brought color back into her face. “Tell you what. You go deal with the senator, and I’ll wait right here in reception until you’re finished. Then you can fix my face.” He expected a smart ass comment about there being no fixing his face. Or an eyeroll. Hence his shock when she paused, looked at him, and then slowly nodded.
“Okay,” she said faintly. Then she visibly steeled her shoulders, turned, walked beyond the reception desk, and made her way down the long hallway.
He stood for a moment, watching her, letting surprise take him. The woman wanted him to stay in the clinic while she tended to the senator. Why? Fear wasn’t an emotion he equated with May. She seemed fierce on a daily basis. So he sat and checked his pockets for his phone. Excellent. He’d shoved it into his back one. That was rare. Pulling it out, he looked at the screen. He had three brothers, all with different skills and backgrounds.
Damian probably had the best connections. Ace punched in a number.
“Hi, Ace. Tell me you’re not in jail,” Damian answered easily.
“Not today.” Ace looked at the now empty hallway. “D? Tell me everything you know about Senator Kyle Mercer. And I mean everything.”
Chapter Two
May finished digging the wood chips out of Kyle’s knuckles while Ivy patiently handed her gauze. The exam room smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive cologne that didn’t belong in a place with paper-covered tables and stainless steel trays. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. May kept her focus on the small, precise work of cleaning the abrasions, ignoring the way familiarity tugged at her senses.
“You’ll want to keep some antibacterial gel on this for the next few days,” she said, wrapping tape over the gauze. “Nothing’s broken, though. You’ve got a decent sprain. I’d suggest icing it on and off for the next twenty-four hours or so.” She took a step away, all too familiar with Kyle’s cologne. She’d thought it appealing once. That memory arrived with an old, dull ache she refused to examine. “Ivy can help you get checked out, Senator.”
He smiled. “I have another matter I’d like to discuss with you, Doctor.”
May slowly peeled off the blue latex gloves and tossed them into the nearest trash. The snap of elastic sounded louder than it should have. “Go ahead.” She looked at him. Yeah, in his mid-thirties, he was handsome. He sat on the examination table wearing a dark blue, probably Armani, suit with a red and silver striped power tie. He’d loosened the knot and released the first button on his starched white shirt. His dark brown hair was mussed, his blue eyes as charismatic as ever. That hadn’t changed. Of course it hadn’t.
“Actually, I’d like some privacy.” He winked at Ivy. “Although you’re the prettiest nurse I’ve ever seen.”
Ivy blushed a pretty red. Even so, her gaze swung to May and her body appeared alert. “I don’t mind staying.”
Yeah. The woman had excellent instincts.
“I’m sorry, but it’s a personal matter, and I only feel comfortable discussing it with my doctor,” Kyle said smoothly.
“I’m not your doctor,” May retorted. “I’m here on an emergency basis because, apparently, if I had to guess, you punched a wall. But I’m not your doctor. Can’t be. Sorry.” She wasn’t. Not at all. Her blood thrummed, her body buzzing like it wasn’t fully her own. She knew the feeling of a warded-off panic attack better than anyone. Her chest felt tight and she could barely keep her hands steady.
“I think I should stay here,” Ivy said. “Believe me, anything you say is confidential.”
May cut her a quick smile. She’d been smart to hire the nurse.
“I have a medical issue, and you’re the only doctor in town. I might be a United States senator, but my taxes do help pay your salary,” he said, watching May.
Irritation clocked through her. “As a United States senator, you don’t pay taxes.”
Ivy gasped softly. “Is that true? Do senators not pay taxes like the rest of us?”
Kyle chuckled, relaxed, as if this were cocktail conversation instead of a standoff in a cramped exam room. “No, it actually is not true. That’s a rumor. Not even remotely true. I’m subject to federal and state taxes, as well as Social Security, Medicare taxes, and all the other taxes everybody else has to pay. You hear this myth a lot. I think it’s because before 1984 we didn’t have to pay Social Security or something like that, but we do now.”
Ivy leaned back against the counter. “I bet you have good work-related benefits, though.”
He nodded. “We do. We have housing allowances that are very limited, some travel deductions, and decent retirement plans. But other than that, we pay just as many taxes as anybody else.”
“Oh,” Ivy said, mollified. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, a lot of people believe that old rumor. It’s all right.” His humor faded, replaced by intensity. “Now please, may I have a medical consultation?”
May crossed her arms. The posture was defensive and she knew it, but she didn’t care. “Unless it’s an emergency, no. I can’t be your doctor, Kyle.” She wouldn’t be. Ever.
