Don’t I wish, I nearly say out loud, but keep my guard up.
I give a polite chuckle. “Uh, no. A get-together, shall we say. Now, what can I help you with?”
If I’m not mistaken, his eyes rove over me in a flash, but then return to my face, this time a crooked smile that only has one dimple doing its thing.
“Well, doc. I’m looking for your feedback on my performance so far. Since I’m new here, as you know, and I’m trying to adjust to the ER practices. I would expect you’d have some thoughts on things you think I’m doing well at and things you want me to change.”
I’m sure the surprise registers across my face, my brows lifted in astonishment. In all my years in private practice, out in the field, or now in a public hospital I have never been directly asked by a surgical nurse for my feedback. Actually, Eli isn’t even asking me for it. He’s straight-up demanding it.
Running a hand through my dark hair – which is finally growing out from the cropped short I’d had the last three years – I shake off the confusion of being cornered by this request and try to conjure up some on-the-spot feedback. I mentally flip through the catalog of my observations and our exchanges, both positive and constructive.
Can I even pinpoint and articulate specific changes that he can make? Aside from his overly bouncy fidgeting, which really isn’t disruptive as much as it is kind of cute, I can’t come up with anything helpful.
You could stop looking so delectable in those blue scrubs.
Probably not the type feedback he’s looking for.
“Off the top of my head, I think you’re doing a great job,” I insist, hoping that will be enough to appease the young nurse so I can be on my way. “No problems so far.”
Thinking this brief and positive praise will be sufficient enough to get this guy back on his way, I turn and try to side-step around him, but am blocked when Elijah crosses his arms and his broad shoulders brush mine. Startled, and a little off-kilter by the heat and weight of his body, I stop and peer back over my shoulder at him.
His face holds a boyish quality, with his high cheekbones and a light blond scruff across his jaw. Full lips that when turned upward in his usual smile, radiate a contagious energy – with maybe a touch of mischief. And the deep well of dimples carved in each cheek casts a look of innocence overshadowed by playfulness.
I shake off the spin cycle affect that churns in my stomach. It’s a combination of thrill and desire that hasn’t existed there for a long time. Something about this man makes my body come alive with a greedy need to be wanted. To belong to someone.
It’s a foreign feeling to me. Not because it’s a man that’s creating this nervous energy and attraction – but the fact that I’m actually registeringanyattraction toanyone. I figured the damage done to my heart and psyche in Ghana was destructive enough to shut it down for good.
The warmth of Eli’s touch on the top of my shoulder sends a shooting spark so electric I may as well have been shocked. The heat of it sears my flesh through my lab coat and I jolt from the sudden spark of energy. He, too, seems to have been affected by it based on the parting of his lips, the sudden sip of air and the way his grip tightens on me.
Without missing a beat, he snickers. “Doc, you’re not just blowing smoke up my ass just to get rid of me, are you? Because I call bullshit.”
I chuckle and shake my head, dropping my eyes to hide my discomfort and the truth Eli has uncovered. He’s also very perceptive. And I’m a terrible liar.
Returning my gaze to his face, I give him a sheepish look and answer honestly.
“Okay, maybe a little BS. I’m sorry, I just wasn’t prepared for this conversation right now – not here,” I motion up and down the hallway. “And Iamin a hurry. But listen, if you’re truly interested in my constructive feedback, why don’t you schedule a time with me next week and I can give you my full attention and thorough insights.”
A flash of something in Eli’s eyes – something wanton and sensual, maybe– illuminates and then disappears when he drops his hand from my shoulder. I immediately want it back.
His smile is slow and lazy, almost wolfish. And I’m feeling a bit like his lamb, caught in his path.
“That sounds good, doc. I’ll check your schedule and will set something up.”
“Okay,” I reply absently, already on the move; practically hurling myself as far from him as possible. Instinctively knowing he’s dangerous to my carefully constructed life. A predator to my existing course trajectory.
“And, doc,” he calls out casually, throwing off my steps. “I’ll be prepared to give you my feedback, too.”
I falter and nearly spill the contents of my files across the floor.
His feedback? On my performance? WTH?
When I turn back around to question him, Eli is already halfway down the hall, his steps filled with a confident spring.
My gaze lands on his firm, shapely ass and even though I’m vaguely aware that I’m being paged overhead, my attention doesn’t veer from the man’s perfect rear.
Oh shit, I’m fucked.
