Page 9 of Doctor Charmer

A soft curl of her lips warns me I’m playing with fire. I steal a glance at my watch, noting the time—eleven fifty-eight.

“There’s also your release paperwork. You’ll need to read, sign, and initial it, and then you’ll be free to go.”

She reaches for the pile of papers, sorting until she finds the one for her dismissal. “You realize you can’t get rid of me that easily?”

I don’t reply.

“Our school is only ninety miles away, yet I’ve never been to Eastport before. After I send the girls back to campus, I’m going to stick around for a few days. You know”—she looks up at me with a glint in her eye— “to keep a watch on the rest of the team.”

“Of course,” I chuckle, relishing every second of this.

“Are there any can’t-miss sights I should be aware of?”

She’s seconds from signing the papers. I’m almost in the clear. “You mean, besides me?”

An adorable twinkle shoots from her eyes as she scans me from head to toe.

“Sign those discharge papers, and I’ll share a place or two.” I reach into the pocket of my lab coat and retrieve the pen. Istep to her, pen in hand, barely extending my hand, forcing her to close the distance. She doesn’t hesitate. Her move is a bold declaration:I’m game.Her hand purposefully lands on top of mine as she reaches for the pen, igniting a spark between us that electrifies the room.

This isn’t my overactive imagination conjuring up a fantasy. This isn’t her in an adrenaline-fueled haze spewing come-hither looks to distract herself from the surrounding reality. She’s safe, her team is taken care of. This is her. This is me. This connection is still burning bright.

Her index finger strokes the back of my hand. “Feels like I’m not signing out but signing up for something.” She’s a relentless flirt, and I’m becoming her number one fan.

“Lady’s choice.”

“Should I read the fine print?” She lifts the paper in the air between us, rubbing the crinkling paper between her fingertips, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

“My policy is always trust but verify.” I offer a line I’ve used in the past, one that hasn’t always provided the clarity of conscience intended. Therefore, I add an addendum. “Just so you know, around the hospital, they call me Dr. Charmer.”

The left side of her mouth tilts up in half a smirk. “Good. Maybe I’ve finally met my match. They call me Coach Flirt-a-lot.” She signs her name like a celebrity. Bold, confident strokes, larger than the space provided.

“Are you all talk too?” She offers an insight that sounds like a warning.

I wait for her to hand over the papers before responding. I twist my hand, pulling her attention to my movement, her eyes taking in my designer watch. “Midnight,” I whisper before responding to her question. She is officially no longer my patient. “Is there anything about me that makes you think I’m all talk?”

She scans me again, this time slowly. I unbutton my lab coat, removing it and letting her see all of me for the first time. I’m wearing a European-cut white fitted collared shirt, silk tie, and dress slacks worthy of standing at a podium at a medical conference. It’s how I always dress. It’s how my mentor, Angie’s father, taught me to dress. Respect for your position, respect for the hospital, respect for your patients.

I’m not flaunting this outfit for any of the reasons my mentor outlined. I’m doing it for the look on Ivy’s face. She’s no longer my patient; she’s a woman. A stunningly beautiful woman.

“Is this your go-to move with all the women?” she asks. A question I’ve heard more times than I can remember.

“If you’re asking whether a patient has ever put the moves on me before…” I twist her question and let it dangle in the electric air.

She reaches forward, stuffing the hospital-issued pen into my chest pocket. She’s wearing sneakers and is only an inch shorter than my five eleven, a fact that I should have picked up on when I read the chart but didn’t.

“You’ve not begun to see me make a move.”

“Yet,” I add to her statement, letting her know what our future holds.

“You’ll never see it coming if I ever do,” she teases, and I get the sense she loves this part of the game. Lucky for her, so do I.

“I’ve seen it all.” I take a step toward her, my hand reaching for her signed paperwork. This time, it’s her turn to hold tight with a forceful tug.

“You’ve never seen anything like me before.” She lifts her hand with the paperwork high, not stopping until it’s in my line of sight. I give another slight tug, and she releases with a snicker, an electric laugh that causes the hairs on my arm to tingle.

I’ve never done this before. Not openly flirt with a patient in an exam room. It feels forbidden. It feels electric. It feels good.“I trust you.” I give her words that are meant to make her relax. And when her nose twitches in excitement, I snatch the rug from underneath her. “But you know I have to verify. Show me.”

“Hmmm, enticing. But I’m not that easy. You may need verification. But I need something too.”

---