Nancy nodded, but her mind seemed to be on something else. She gave the doctor an admiring look. “You have the loveliest complexion, just like porcelain. You can get away without makeup. Lucky for you.”
It was enough to make Siena self-conscious. “Do I look too pale?” She was indoors most of the time, while the summer whizzed by. She ran her fingers through her hair. Her layers could use a trim, if only she had the time for a haircut.
“I said porcelain, not pale. I’m complimenting you. You look gorgeous. Those beauty spots look precious. Like Marilyn Monroe, you know. Mark my word—the Juggernaut will go gaga over you.” She pinched Siena’s arm in a playful manner.
Nancy’s effort at matchmaker was not only inappropriate, but unappreciated. Siena didn’t know how to say it without sounding rude. She was fond of Nancy, so she bit her tongue.
“I’m teasing, Dr. Carr.”
“I can see that.”
She made the phone call, finally getting hold of her mentor. They agreed to meet for coffee the next day, to talk about Siena’s interest in a research job in New York.
She strode inside the emergency room, just as the nurse, Jonah, was leaving. He handed her the patient’s clipboard. “I cleaned up his cut and administered local anesthesia. He got injured while sparring about forty-five minutes ago. He’s all yours, Dr. Carr.” Jonah winked, which gave Siena pause. Did everyone at the hospital think she was looking for a boyfriend?
Jonah’s reaction reinforced the nagging feeling that everyone knew about her breakup. It was impossible to hide it since Dr. Michael Feldman also worked at the same hospital. How irritating that people were gossiping about her love life. She went straight to the sink, her back to the patient. She dropped the clipboard on the counter and washed her hands. When she turned around, she gasped. “What are you doing?”
The Juggernaut was undressing. Before she could say another word, he was naked. A glorious sight that sent her heart racing and her face burning. Did he know that he looked like a sculpture by Michelangelo? Except for the tattoo on his right shoulder, this man was David incarnate.
She looked away abruptly, grabbing the clipboard. She didn’t even know his name! She looked at his paperwork. Tommy Raines. “Mr. Raines, please put on your clothes.”
She continued scanning his form. Occupation: boxer. Age: twenty-two. Weight: 160 pounds. Height: six feet. Blood type: O positive. No pre-existing health conditions. His temperature and blood pressure were normal. Reason for ER visit: a cut sustained from sparring.
She faced him. Thank God, he was clothed again.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I thought you’re supposed to check me out.”
Did he just say check him out? “Mr. Raines, this is an ER, not a bar. I don’t check out patients. Do you mean to say check up?”
He smiled. “Yeah, check up.”
“I’m going to take care of your cut, but I’m not doing a checkup. If you need one, you should go to your primary care doctor.”
“I don’t like doctors. I avoid hospitals and clinics as much as possible, but my cut kept bleeding even after I showered. So here I am.”
Doctors were, indeed, the last resort for macho guys who thought they were invincible. She didn’t need a vote of confidence, but a dose of tact would have been nice.
“Please sit down.” She pointed at the bed.
She crossed the room to pick up a pair of latex gloves from a cabinet. She drew a deep breath as she put them on. It was unnerving. First, Nancy and Jonah both insinuated that she was hunting for a boyfriend. Only five weeks after her breakup, she was as vulnerable as a gaping wound. Their teasing didn’t help. Second, this Juggernaut man had stripped in front of her, jarring her composure.
No matter. She turned around to face him. “Well, let’s have a look at you.”
“You’re too young to be a doctor.” He was sitting on the bed, his feet swinging.
“Excuse me?”
“How old are you?” He was appraising her from head to toe.
Her face bloomed with heat as her blood pressure rose. How rude! “Mr. Raines, I graduated summa cum laude from Princeton University with a bachelor’s degree in biology. I graduated cum laude from UC San Francisco School of Medicine. I completed two years of residency training in emergency medicine at San Francisco General Hospital. I assure you I’m a bona fide, board-certified MD, and I’m more than qualified to treat you.”
“So, how old are you?” His eyes were wide, curious, and childlike.
“I just turned twenty-six. If you have a problem with that, then you can wait for Dr. Rowland. He’s about fifty years old. His shift begins at eight o’clock.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. In fact, I’m very impressed. I’ve never met a doctor as young and beautiful as you are.”
“Oh.” She drew back. Talk about overreacting.
It was standard operating procedure for the attending physician to question the patient. She should ask him how he got the cut, but the prospect of engaging him in a conversation was agitating. She picked up the clipboard again and stared at it. Nothing came to mind. Not one question. It was as if she’d walked into the wrong job. No one had ever made her this uncomfortable and uncertain in her own ER before. So, never mind that. The information in the form was good enough.
She examined his face. Focus, she told herself. His eyes were hazel, boring into her. His breath was warm and rhythmic. He smelled as if he was fresh from the shower—a faint citrusy soap smell, no cologne. Given the hospital’s overpowering disinfectant odor, it was a pleasure to sniff him.
Up close, his cut was neat, a straight line on his left eyebrow. It wasn’t bad, as far as wounds go. She proceeded to examine his mouth. He had the most voluptuous lips. If he were a woman, he could give Angelina Jolie a run for her money. His lower lip was swollen, but not busted.
“The good news, Mr. Raines, is that you only need stitches here.” She touched his left eyebrow lightly. “The location is good. This spot is not as sensitive as the skin around the eyes. I promise you I won’t leave any scar.”
“Tommy.”
His unexpected response forced her to look him in the eye. “Excuse me?”
“Please call me Tommy.”
“Tommy.”
“That’s better.”
Their eyes locked for just a moment, but her heart pounded. She stepped backward. Why was she nervous? It was a simple procedure she’d done many times. She brushed the feeling aside.
“Before I do the stitches…are you hurting anywhere else?”
He patted the left side of his rib cage.
“Please take off your shirt so I can take a look.”
He pulled his white T-shirt off and let it fall on the floor. He remained perched on the bed.
It was impossible not to gawk at the rippling abs, the taut biceps, and yes, the tattoo. There was no denying his virile beauty, his luminous youth. No wonder Nancy was overawed by him. It was easy to feel that way.
“I’m Catholic. That’s the Virgin Mary on my shoulder in case you’re wondering. I got the tattoo when my mom was very sick.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat. She almost blurted out that she was Catholic, too, but she shared only necessary information with patients. It was best to simply listen.
The