Page 3 of The Specialist

I decided to get up and do some paperwork. With all my businesses, there was always paperwork.

It would help pass the time until Sofia showed up.

I wouldn’t rest until I saw her face.

CHAPTER TWO

Sofia

I leaned my head on the hard metal wall of the elevator, grateful to be home. I had worked extra to cover a shift for a fellow doctor, and he was returning the favor by covering for me tomorrow night. So I only had to get through one more night and I could sleep as much as I wanted.

“One more night,” I whispered. “Just one more night.”

I huffed a laugh to myself. My body was so used to the lack of sleep, I doubted I would sleep much anyway. I glanced at my watch, noting it was three o’clock. I had seven hours until I had to be back at the hospital for the shift. I would sleep for a while, eat, then head back in.

Egan would understand my canceling dinner plans. He always understood, his patience seemingly endless. He was understanding when I’d texted him earlier, putting off breakfast since I had to cover the shift. He assured me he would make us dinner instead.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

Egan.

I had no idea what to do about him. The man of many sides. Dark and light rolled into one. Deadly when he needed to be. I had seen him in action. He was lethal. Then in the blink of an eye, he would turn into the sweetest man I had ever met. He was a great neighbor. Helpful, kind, protective. Damien, my cousin, thought the world of him. Egan was an amazing friend who would do anything for me.

But he wanted so much more.

More than I could give.

I had made that clear to him more than once, and he always nodded, never reacting badly, quietly continuing on with his quest for us to be together, no matter how I tried to discourage him.

With my past, I couldn’t be with him. I didn’t want to be with anyone. My heart couldn’t bear another loss.

So, we had to stay friends.

The elevator door opened, and the man I had been thinking about stood there. My breath caught, simply looking at him.

Friend or not, he was an incredible specimen of a man.

Tall and lean, with muscles in all the right places, he was extremely sexy. Solid. His biceps were impressive, his torso taut. I was average height for a woman, but at 6’5”, he towered over me, making me feel small. The scruff he was wearing these days dusted his jaw, highlighting his lean, hawklike face. His profile was chiseled and sharp. His hair was swept high off his forehead, one dark brown lock hanging to the left. His eyes were a rich green with flecks of deep coffee in them. Set under heavy brows, they were expressive and intense. I had a thing for hands, and Egan’s were incredible. Large, with long, tapered fingers capable of building a bomb that could wipe out a block of houses in a moment or touching me with the gentlest of caresses.

His gaze met mine, and not for the first time, I glimpsed his desire. It smoldered and beckoned in his gaze. I saw something else in his stare today. Something I couldn’t place. He held out his hand, his voice low and raspy.

“Sofia,” he murmured. “Iubirea mea.”

I didn’t know what the words meant, although I had a feeling I wouldn’t be happy if I did. The way he said them was saturated in emotion. It stirred something in me I tried to ignore.

“Egan,” I replied.

I let him take my hand, refusing to admit how right it felt when his long fingers closed around mine. He drew me close, wrapping me in his arms.

“You are okay?” he asked.

I let the moment surround me the way his body was. Warmth, safety, and something else filled my chest. Something I didn’t want to name.

“I’m fine,” I replied.

I felt the press of his lips on my head, and he drew back, studying me.

“You are tired.”