Page 32 of Doctor Charmer

“You don’t know me.” But she does. She’s gotten me to reveal parts of myself I don’t share with friends I’ve known for years.

“I don’t know Brayton either, but I recognized the look in his eyes. We both did. And you have it too.” I retreat, stepping backto catch my breath. “Tell me I’m wrong?” she challenges me, and my head spins.

Is she just making cocktail conversation, or does she want to have a serious discussion?

“Dr. Morgan,” a strange voice floats over my shoulder, a hard slap across my shoulder. “Wonderful party. We always appreciate you organizing it.” I twist to find Dr. Harrington from Rare Diseases. White hair, over fifty man who I’ve gone to battle with a time or ten. “I’m headed out and just wanted to say good night.”

Dr. Harriman is a political creature. That’s the only reason he has his arm on my shoulder like we’re best buddies. He knows I’m the host of this party. He knows every department head in town is here tonight. He’s putting on a show for them, not me.

I don’t care for office politics. My reputation speaks for itself. So, I have no problems doing what I’m about to do. I shrug out of his clammy hold. “Where is wifey?” I glance over his shoulder, making sure my voice is loud, pulling attention in his direction.

I don’t expect to find her and hope not to find what I’m looking for, but there she is. Sarah Longo, the lab tech mapped to the ER. She’s half his age and continues to ignore every piece of advice I’ve given her. She is standing by the exit, her coat hanging across her arm, chin lowered, a quick look in our direction, obviously looking to leave with the not-so-good doctor.

“You know the drill by now. She visits family in Brazil every holiday season. It’s why I don’t mind working during the season. Just little ole me in that big ole house. Alone.” He emphasizes the last word for anyone who might be listening to our conversation. But I catch the lecherous grin he shoots in Sarah’s direction, making it apparent to anyone who’s paying attention. I fist my hands in order not to ruin the holiday reception for everyone.

“I guess I missed it where Merriam-Webster updated the definition of the wordalone.”

His brows pinch in the middle of his forehead, and color races to his neck. His display of anger is wasted on me. I’ve seen it way too many times. Have been the cause many of those times.

His eyes glance toward Ivy standing next to me. His eyes begin a slow perusal, which I halt by stepping in his line of sight. His eyes snap to mine. “I didn’t realize you lived in a glass house, Dr. Morgan. Good night.”

I give him the finger. Not that one but my bare ring finger.

He scoffs and storms away.

I watch as he walks to the exit, Sarah lowering her head as if that will make no one notice her leaving the party with him. Most people don’t.

But I do. I take a step in his direction and halt when a gentle hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me. Her touch is warm, the tingle that races up my arm expected.

“He’s cheating on his wife,” she whispers, a fact that should be obvious to everyone in the hospital but isn’t.

I nod.

“And you’re pissed off about it.” Again, her words come out as statements, not questions. Behind her flirty personality is an observant woman. “Why?”

“Not tonight?” I walk away from her, in desperate need of a drink.

Ivy paces behind me. “Former conquest of yours? Jealous?” She’s throwing darts, I know that. I’m not in the right state of mind to respond. In the ER, I’m all about calm. About being in control. But in Ivy’s presence, it all fades away.

“Is that what you think of me?” I spin to face her, and all I feel in my chest is an intensity I’ve not felt in years. A desperate need for a woman to see the real me.

“As you keep reminding me, I don’t know you.”

I spin and approach the bar. Not trusting my words, I point.

The bartender prepares my drink as Ivy steps next to me. Her gaze matches the intensity of what I’m feeling. She’s not going anywhere.

“Isn’t that what tonight is about? You said you wanted to get to know me better. Don’t you think I want the same?” She tosses my words back at me.

I snatch the drink from the bartender and toss it back. I let the burn of the liquor punish me.

She’s right. Everything she says is one hundred percent true. But it changes nothing right now. I need space and time to take a breath to prevent my stubborn self from chasing Dr. Harriman down and tossing him off this thirtieth-floor balcony.

“Another,” I bark at the bartender, who jumps to my order.

“He’s had enough.” Ivy waves her hand at the bartender. “Cut him off for the night.”

I scoff. “Good luck with that. It’s my party. He works for me.”

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