The Playboy Doctor Claims His Bride. Janice Lynn
As much as she’d once cared for Randall, he’d never lifted her to the heights this man had in a single night. She might not recover a second time. Not professionally. Not emotionally.
Although Eric looked like he wanted to say more, he clamped his mouth closed and conveyed his displeasure via his tight facial expression.
Resuming his perch on her desk, he watched her for so long she fought to keep standing. His eyes gleamed a deep brown, threatening to burn her with their intensity if she showed the slightest sign of weakness.
His gaze scorched into her soul.
Finally, he gave a curt nod and left. Kasey’s forehead crashed to her desk and she rolled her head back and forth against the hard, cold surface.
Eric was gone.
But he’d be back.
Every workday, he’d be back.
Just how was she going to stay steadfast when con fronted with Eric day in and day out?
CHAPTER THREE
A WEEK later, Eric winced at his twenty-year-old patient’s bright red skin. “How long were you out in the sun?”
“My boyfriend works on a horse farm and we were out riding. I ended up sticking around and helping him most of the day. Last night I was miserable. I thought I was going to have to go to the emergency room,” the young woman admitted, holding her body stiffly.
“I’ll be as easy as I can.” He gently lifted her loose clothing away from her skin to peer at the burn. “Did you have on sunscreen?”
As impossible as it seemed, her face grew redder. “No. I was working on my tan.”
“I’d suggest you work on protecting your skin from permanent damage. A good SPF 30 sunscreen would have saved you a lot of trouble.” He motioned toward her burn.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry. I’ve learned my lesson. I plan to go buy the highest SPF in the store.”
Eric shook his head. “No need. SPF 30 provides all the protection you need. Once the sun is blocked, it’s blocked. Anything beyond just puts extra chemicals on your skin without any real extra protection.”
He slipped on his stethoscope and listened to her heart sounds. Normal S1S2 with a regular rate and rhythm. No murmur. Lung sounds clear to auscultation.
“You’re losing a lot of moisture through your burn. Make sure you drink a lot of water over the next few days. You want to stay hydrated.”
He tapped the RX emblem on the computer screen and entered a prescription for burn cream. He sent the prescription to the pharmacy and printed out a patient education handout on skin care and sunburn.
His next patient was a thin older gentleman with soulful eyes and slumped shoulders. After less than thirty seconds, Eric realized Shane Bresdan needed more than a prescription refill.
The man took a deep breath, stared at his hands. “My wife left.”
“Left?”
“Kapooie. She’s gone.” Shane’s tone was flat, as if he talked about the weather. But his eyes held a world of pain and his hands were clenched tightly in his lap.
“Where did she go?”
Sagging shoulders lifted then fell. “Don’t know. She just picked up and left while I was at work one day. Came home to a note saying she was gone and wouldn’t be back.”
And Eric thought he had female problems.
“Were you having marital issues?”
“No more than normal. She’s never left before. Never even threatened to.”
Poor man. After waking up in his hotel room alone two months ago, Eric wholeheartedly commiserated. He’d never had a woman walk out on him. He hadn’t cared for the experience.
He’d thought he and Kasey had hit it off that night. They had. But whereas he’d gone into the hotel room thinking they were starting something special, she’d gone in thinking of the ending to her bad day.
Eric sighed. Thinking about Kasey was futile when she refused to acknowledge they’d shared anything more than a one-nighter. Was he really such a bad judge of women? Hadn’t he learned to read who was sincere and who wasn’t? He’d thought so, but perhaps not.
He turned back to his patient. “How are you dealing with her leaving?”
Unpacking his few personal belongings, going along with his mother’s constant social demands because it made her happy, and making her happy made him happy, hanging out with Jonathan.
Which had worked until he’d been confronted with the living breathing reminder of the woman who’d bailed out on him.
Now he was discontented as hell.
Eric talked to Shane several more minutes, recommended counseling and an antidepressant. Shane denied suicidal ideas and agreed to return to the clinic for reevaluation. He scheduled a follow-up appointment for a week’s time.
Eric shook the man’s hand and walked into the hallway with him.
His Kasey radar bleeped. Why was he so aware of a woman who wanted nothing to do with him? He should be grateful. He hadn’t come home to start a relationship. He’d come home for his mother, because he’d heard the need in her voice.
Unable to keep from looking at Kasey, he resigned himself to her reaction. Had four years out of the States really made such a difference in his social skills that he’d gone from fighting off women to chasing after one who denied wanting anything more to do with him? Why didn’t he believe her?
She wouldn’t have taken off from his hotel room bed if she’d wanted a relationship. Or would she? If she’d known who he was, known they’d be colleagues when he eventually took his place at the clinic, would she have left to throw him off kilter? To leave him wanting more?
He caught her looking at him. Her big green eyes were soulful behind her glasses. Her lower lip was sucked in between her teeth. Her fingers tightly clutched her stethoscope.
Why was she pretending their chemistry didn’t exist when it so obviously did?
His gaze roved over the woman standing a few feet away, staring at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
Gold digger or not, he wanted Dr. Kasey Carmichael.
More than he remembered ever wanting a woman.
She wanted him, too.
With time, she’d admit she wanted him.
“How long has your back been hurting, Mr. Oliver?” Kasey asked, making a notation on the sixty-year-old’s electronic chart. Mr. Oliver came in every few months with a variety of complaints. Over the time she’d been taking care of him, Kasey had grown fond of the older gentleman, who qualified to come to the ambulatory clinic through a special charity fund sponsored by the Rivendell Ladies Society.
Shoulders covered in dirty coveralls, he shrugged. “On and off for years. Just something I live with, you know. With no insurance, I ain’t had much choice.”
Pushing her professional, no-nonsense, black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, she nodded. Mr. Oliver worked two jobs, trying to support his family. Although his children were all grown, one of his daughters and her three children lived with them. They struggled to make ends meet on the best of days. “When did your back get worse?”
“A couple of weeks ago. I was at work and lifted a car battery. Heard my back pop and then had to have Joe help me straighten.” His weary eyes met hers. “You know Joe. He and his wife come to see you. He drove me here today.”
“Joe’s a nice man.” Kasey typed his response into the patient database. “Have you ever had an X-ray of your spine?”