Page 33 of Doctor Charmer

The bartender freezes, his gaze bouncing back and forth between us.

Ivy doesn’t hesitate. She steps around the bar, not stopping until she is next to him with his complete attention.

She pops a hip out and places a hand on the front of his shoulder. “Listen”—her tongue peeks out, sweeping across the top of her lower lip, her gaze lowering to the lapel pin on his chest—“Darwin. You’re smart enough to know what happens to bartenders that serve people past their limits.” She leads with the stick, and I brace for her to show the carrot. “How about this? Pass Dr. Morgan one of those bottles of water. And at the end of the night when you’re packing up, wave me over, and I’ll have a drink with you. I’m Ivy, by the way.”

And just like that, I know I’m sidelined for the rest of the night. No man with a pulse could say no to her. Not when she’s like this.

I’m a freaking idiot. The alcohol hits my bloodstream, making me see what I should have seen before. I’m not special. What we have isn’t special. This is what she does. Darwin’s goofy grin is probably a mirror image of the one that was plastered on my face when she walked into this room.

What hurts like hell is that she was telling me the truth. The last time she had someone look at her like she is the center of their world was moments ago. Her words hit me so hard because they were true. But also because I don’t give that look to just anybody.

I take two steps to my left to get a better view of Darwin. His goofy grin has dropped to a wide-open gape as she whispers something I can’t hear over the music. But there is no mistaking the look he gives her.

I guess she’ll have to update her statement once again. To another man who loses their inhibitions around her. Who gives her the look I thought was special. But for her, it’s not special. She collects these looks from men every hour, every day of the week.

It’s been two years since I’ve looked at a woman the way I look at Ivy. If she finds out my truth, she’ll probably roll on the floor laughing. Me, Dr. Charmer, hasn’t been on a date in two years.

For me, it’s taken me two years to give Ivy a look that means the world to me. For her, it only takes two minutes for the next man to give her the same.

Ivy has her back to me; all I see is the bob of Darwin’s head. He agrees to everything she asks. I don’t fault him—every man does the same, present company included.

No more.

I twist on my heels and march toward the exit. I need air.

I ignore the nods and waves of colleagues looking to engage as I make my way toward the doorway. Ten more feet to freedom.

“Dr. Morgan!” I freeze. The one voice in the room that can make me halt. Dr. Riggs, the head of the hospital. Hanging on his arm is my worst nightmare—Louise Derby from HR.

“Dr. Riggs,” I acknowledge him and give Louise a short headshake. She purses her lips with anit’s too late for you nowlook. “You know the policy here at the mixer: no business.” Neither of us believes a word I say. I established the mixers over a decade ago to allow the staff to connect and get to know one another on a different level, but they are always filled with work conversations.

“Humor me for a moment. Louise here tells me for the third year in a row your department is the last one to sign off on the no-fraternization policy that’s in place to protect the hospital. Why don’t you remedy this right now so we can enjoy the holiday.”

I don’t hide the roll of my eyes. Dr. Riggs doesn’t even call the policy by its right name. It’s not a nonfraternization policy, which would prohibit workplace romance. It’s a fraternization acknowledgement attestation. They sound similar but are a world away from each other. “That sounds awfully like business to me.”

Dr. Riggs chews on the inside of his cheek, a move I’ve seen up close way too often. It’s his tell when he’s seconds away from chewing out a subordinate, and when you are the head of the hospital, that includes everyone in the building. “Just this once, don’t make me…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Most people bend to his will on his first request.

I twist to face Louise. She gives a shit-eatingcheckmategrin. Movement over her shoulder catches my attention, Ivy approaching holding a bottle of water.

Voices flood my head.You’re nothing special. Do as you are told. Drink what we tell you. Snap to my commands. You have no autonomy. You are your reputation.

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that. I’m not signing.” I catch Ivy’s brow pinch as she must read my face, my body language. She’s an expert at reading me. She knows. She stops a foot behind Louise, trying to understand what she’s walked in on.

“It’s hospital policy. Legal will have…” Dr. Riggs justifies and pauses as if just remembering his place in the hospital. “You will do this. And you will do this tonight.”

Only one person has ever given Dr. Riggs an ultimatum. That person no longer works at Eastport. I’m playing with fire. I glance at Ivy and realize she hasn’t seen all of me just yet. She’s not experienced the reckless, stubborn, cut-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face version of me. I toss gasoline on the fire.

“There’s nothing you can do to make me sign it.” I back him in the corner, knowing a rattlesnake only has one move. And I’m standing too close to escape.

The lips of his crooked smile shake as he glances over his shoulder. An audience is building around us. All that’s missing is a white-hot spotlight. I’ve given him no choice.

“You’re suspended.” He drops the gauntlet, and I try not to flinch.

The gasp I hear is not my own. Ivy has her hand pressed to her mouth; eyes wide in disbelief.

“Only because of our long history that I don’t fire you for insubordination on the spot,” he rails on, and I know enough to keep quiet. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours. I don’t want to see you on the hospital grounds unless you are here to deliver those signed papers to HR.” He crosses his arms across his broad chest like a prize fighter peacocking at a press conference. “I’ll have Dr. Carmichael cover the ER tomorrow. Go home, Reggie.”

Nothing I say will change this outcome. I knew it the minute I opened my mouth. I turn and push through the crowd, striding toward the exit.

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