Like I want to kiss you again,she thought.
“Good,” she said instead. “The baby’s been moving quite a lot”
Something flickered in his expression that she couldn’t read—pleasure, maybe, or relief. “That’s excellent. Right on schedule.” He set the chart down and gestured to the table. “Let’s take a look.”
She settled herself on the examination table, watching him wash his hands at the small sink. The last rays of sunlight slanting through the window turned his hair to gold, and she caught herself staring at the strong line of his jaw, the elegant shape of his hands.
Stop it,she told herself firmly.I’m here for prenatal care, not to ogle my doctor.
But when his fingers brushed her arm as he positioned the blood pressure cuff, her pulse jumped. He noticed. His eyes flicked to the monitor, then to her face.
“Elevated,” he murmured. “Are you feeling anxious?”
Only about you.
“Just the usual pregnancy excitement,” she said, trying to sound relaxed. “It’s starting to feel real.”
The look he gave her was unreadable. “Good.”
He did the rest of the exam with his usual detached professionalism, but the air between them hummed with unspoken words. She was acutely aware of his scent, of his height and strength, of the careful restraint in every movement. And she was equally aware that beneath that restraint, something wild and dangerous waited. She found herself wanting to see it, wanting to see what happened when Victor Jackson lost control. And that, she knew, was madness.
“Your blood pressure is good,” he said, finally stepping back. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. Everything looks perfect. Your back hasn’t given you any more trouble?”
The memory of his hands on her skin sent a flush of warmth through her. “No. Just a little stiffness now and then. Since there aren’t any massage therapists in Fairhaven Falls, I’ve been trying not to overdo it.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “And you’re still in the basement?”
“It’s a big job,” she said carefully. “But I’m being careful. Taking breaks. Not reaching overhead.” She gave him a small smile. “I promise.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment, and she saw the conflict there. The doctor who wanted to lecture her versus the male who wanted to lock her in a padded room for her own safety.
“Good,” he finally said, the word clipped, and continued with the exam.
He conducted it with the same quiet efficiency she remembered—checking her reflexes, listening to her heart, and asking questions about sleep and diet and stress levels. But every touch lingered a fraction too long. Every time their eyes met, heat sparked in the space between them. By the time he finished, heat pooled low in her belly and her breasts ached. She was so focused on not squirming that she almost jumped when he spoke again.
“Everything looks good,” he said at last, making a final notation. “I don’t believe we need to do an ultrasound this time.”
She couldn’t help feeling a slight pang of disappointment, but she nodded obediently.
“If you’re sure.”
“Yes. The baby is developing well, and you’re—” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had dropped lower. “You’re doing an excellent job taking care of yourself and the baby.”
She sat up slowly and slid off the table, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. “I have an excellent medical team.”
Their eyes met and held, and the air between them felt charged with electricity. She could see his pulse jumping in his throat and hear the slight hitch in his breathing. His eyes had darkened, and for a moment she thought she saw that flash of green again.
“Miss Bennington.” His voice had gone hoarse. “I should?—”
“Of course.” She took a step back, smoothing her sweater down. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“You’re not—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching. “I’ll walk you out.”
They walked through the quiet clinic in silence. Petal had already gone home for the evening—it was nearly six o’clock, and he’d stayed late to accommodate her work schedule at the archives. The hallway felt intimate in the dimming light, their footsteps the only sound. He helped her on with her coat and she shivered when he gently lifted her hair free of the collar.
He held the door open for her, and was escorting her silently down the steps when something brushed her cheek. She stopped and looked up. The first snow of the season drifted down from a charcoal-grey sky, delicate flakes catching the light from the street lamps. It wasn’t heavy yet—just a dusting that turned the street into something out of a storybook.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed as snowflakes landed on her cheeks, cold and perfect. She laughed, tipping her face up to the sky, and for a moment the loneliness that had dogged her for months simply… disappeared, replaced by the wonder and delight of a single perfect moment.
