Page 21 of A Sight to Behold
Why couldn’t he be more like Alfie sometimes and tell a woman that she has beautiful eyes instead of commenting on the clarity of her eyeballs? What would he do next, compliment the symmetry of her sclera?
At least that was safe, and familiar. And pathetic. Better that than to behave and feel inappropriately. A woman like her was not—and never could be—for the likes of him. Even if he was a doctor, and a successful one at that. They were from two different worlds, he reminded himself for what felt like the thousandth time. He had no right to think any other way.
“Please, milady. Follow your finger with your eyes only. Do not move your head.” With that, he brought his other hand up and pointed his idle finger up, then down, then to the left and the right. She followed without any trouble. “The size and degree of the prominence of your eye is fine and the directions correspond to the axis.”
He continued the visual field test and her eyes looked straight into Nick’s.
Her focus was fine. His, however, was split between his throbbing cock and thundering heart and finally, he realized, there was no way to stop either from its normal reaction to a beautiful woman. For some reason, this thought calmed him somewhat. A bit. He moved two fingers in each direction. “Tell me when my fingers disappear.” He brought his hand to her side, about an arm’s length away.
“Gone!”
He wiggled his fingers to define the visual field. She giggled and quirked a brow.
His heart seemed to swell in his chest until he was full of a giddy, elated feeling. She was so absolutely stunning.
“What does this mean?” she asked.
“Nothing at all. Your eyes are healthy. Your visual field is a perfect 120 degrees.”
“But you said they are…” Pippa paused before she whispered, “deficient.”
He shook his head. “Not your eyes. I suspect that it is only the lens which requires aid. The color of the white of the eye is bright, and the cornea appears fine.” Nick picked up a large lens from his workstation. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he squinted through it. “You have very beautiful eyes, milady.” There! Was that so hard?
Her pupils widened, and her gaze softened when he said it. He should have kicked himself, for it was not part of an eye exam to compliment the patient.
“I assume you have no pain, no itching, excessive tearing, burning, or sensation of a foreign body in your eyes?” She drew her brows close and shook her head. “Floaters?” She frowned. He’d used medical jargon again, instead of something commonly used by nonspecialists. He redefined his meaning for her. “Floaters are dots that move in your visual field.”
She shook her head again and blinked. Nick knew that she was now searching her field of vision for floaters, just in case she’d never noticed them before. Everyone did it, once he’d made them aware of the phenomenon, but only now, as Pippa did it, did he find the action something to smile about. He turned in his chair to open the wooden drawer under the top of his desk and retrieved the small blue flask he’d next require. “This is belladonna tincture. I shall place a drop or two in each eye and allow for dilation of your pupils.”
She sat back on the stool, her posture ramrod, and her shoulders raised in tension. “Is that necessary? Will it hurt? How long will it affect my eyes?”
“It doesn’t hurt, the effect will only last for a few hours, and it’s necessary, merely to ensure that there is no opaque appearance behind the pupil. It lets me know that the crystalline body is healthy.” He held his palm to her, and she brought her face closer to him. However, he couldn’t manage to put a drop without the pipette in her eye, for she blinked incessantly. Why was it that everything she did made him want to kiss her? “The world might seem a bit brighter than usual, as your eyes are letting in more light,” he told her. “You’re lucky it’s cloudy, milady. You came to see me on a good day.” She seemed to ruminate about this as he expertly and gently pulled her lower lid down with the tip of his thumb, then placed two drops in with the pipette in his other hand. He quickly repeated the process with her other eye. She pulled her head back and blinked as her eyes teared.
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” she mumbled as she reached to rub at her eyes.
He reached out to stop her with a touch at her wrist. “Don’t rub.” Nick grabbed a cloth from his tray of tools. He dabbed the tears from her cheek, not aware it was what he was going to do until it was too late to stop himself. It was unprofessional, to be sure, something he’d never do with any other patient. But this was Pippa, and everything about her was unique. As his hand cupped her cheek, her gaze met his, and the tip of her pink tongue swept out to wet her lips. She leaned toward him, and Nick started to lean closer to her as well as the impulse to kiss her propelled him forward.
If he hadn’t banged his knee against his tool tray, he may have very well pressed his lips to hers, but the clatter and clank of his familiar oculist implements reminded him of where—andwhathe was. And who and whatshewas. He stopped himself from moving closer to her, with reluctance, and then dropped his hand to press the soft cloth into one of her palms. “Dab with this,” he told her with a voice hardly above a whisper, because it appeared he couldn’t catch his breath. “And don’t apologize. Tearing is normal, milady. In about ten or fifteen minutes, your pupils will be dilated, and I can examine them.” He sat as far back as he could and finally drew in a full breath.
Pippa stared at him. Her alabaster cheeks were rosy with an adorable flush, one he suspected that he’d put there. Was it possible—could it be possible?—that she desired him as much as he did her? It seemed that could be the case. Nick shivered at the thought.
“What do we do now? Wait?” She tilted her head in a way that spoke of mischief. Perhaps. Curiosity? Inquisitiveness, to be sure.
He swallowed hard. He had a million ideas but didn’t dare act on them. Or would he?
Chapter Eleven
To Pippa’s surprise,the eye exam was painless. Or was that because Dr. Folsham was so…careful?
She trusted him in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long time, certainly since her mother had… The truth was, something deep inside told her that it was safe to put herself in his hands, into his arms, even. Pippa chastised herself for thinking it, but she got goosebumps imagining his broad shoulders and strong arms holding her, keeping her safe.
Yet, his muscular hands and long fingers were gentle. So gentle even that she let him drop the purple solution in, and she wished he touched more than just her lids and forehead.
She gripped her dress tightly under the table, wishing it were his shirt she had the courage to grip like that to pull him close to her. It was an odd idea and not one she’d ever had before. But it was overpowering and enticing besides.
His hair was light brown, like ripe wheat with undertones the color of toasted almonds. The top was a bit too long, falling into youthful curls onto his forehead in such an inviting way that Pippa wanted to comb her fingers through his hair. She’d gulped when he touched her lower lids and put the cold drops of belladonna in them. She knew it was a poison in high doses but trusted that whatever he’d do to her would always feel good. And how good it would feel if his hands lingered on her face again.
Her chest tightened with longing to be close to him.
