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He sat down on his stool and scooted toward the examination table as he rolled his blue shirtsleeves up to the elbow, revealing smooth, golden skin and forearms roped with muscle. Her stomach did a weird little turn.
It wasn’t fair for a man to be that pretty. It was annoying, actually. His looks were completely wasted on a man with such a lackluster personality.
“So what can I do for you ladies? According to your chart, Melody, you’re not due for your yearly.” His pearly whites flashed under the harsh fluorescent lights.
What can I do for you ladies? Marti mocked in her head. Puh-lease.
Marti grunted as Mel filled him in on the article she was writing, and he acted like he cared. She couldn’t even imagine having to ask him out. He wouldn’t be so humble then. It would rank right up there with that time her mother hired a contractor to do some repair work, and Marti stepped on a rusty nail. That sucker bled like crazy. Hurt for weeks, too. The doctor had to pull it out with a pair of plyers, then give her a tetanus shot. Yep, asking Logan Love to be her fake-boyfriend would trump pretty much anything. He wouldn’t be so humble then. She could only imagine his smug expression.
So as they talked, Marti kept her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. No way would she ask him. She refused to break. Even as they wrapped up their little Q & A and Logan turned to her, she gripped her resolve with an iron fist.
“Anything else I can help with?” he asked.
Marti clasped her hands in front of her and smiled a saccharine smile. “Nope,” she said, popping the “p.”
You’ve got no hold over me, Doctor.
MARTI CHEWED ON HER lower lip as the nurse left the room and Mel got dressed. What were the odds of running into Logan so soon after meeting him? And right when Blue’s boyfriend ultimatum was fresh on her mind? You could go forever in this city without reconnecting with someone. It was almost like she was meant to run into him—like the universe was giving her a little shove. Oh, did you say you needed a hot, surly man to save your job? Here you go. You’re welcome.
Fate or not, she would not confront him. Nope.
She most definitely would not entertain Blue’s idea of using him as the man for her column.
She’d forget all about seeing Logan Love again.
Marti paced as Mel scooted off the bed and reached for her clothes, chattering on about what a crazy coincidence it was, and how hot he was, and how maybe she should learn the Heimlich if I’m going to choke to death when I see a hot dude. Blah, blah, blah...
With a grunt, Marti pivoted toward the door, like there was a magnet, pulling her in, begging her to be tortured.
“I’ll meet you out in the waiting room after you’ve finished changing,” she called behind her.
She stepped outside and softly closed the door behind her. When she turned toward the waiting room, Logan appeared out of nowhere, like he knew she’d come to find him, which only irked her more.
She jolted and her heart leaped in her throat, but she recovered quickly. Squaring her shoulders, she tipped her chin up to meet his gaze.
“Go on any more ten-minute dates?” He rocked back on his heels as mischief danced in his eyes.
“Cute.”
“Thanks.”
“I wasn’t—” Marti fisted her hands at her side. Is he trying to annoy me?
“Why don’t we just address the fact that you’re a doctor, and not just any doctor, but a gynecologist? I work with a lot of women,” Marti mimed, doing her best impersonation of him. “Pfft.” She rolled her eyes. “You forgot to mention you examine lady-bits for a living.”
“Wow. I see we’re reverting back to middle-school terms. Your sophistication continues to amaze me. Regardless, I’ll bite. What difference does it make what kind of doctor I am?” Logan leaned back against the wall, the picture of ease.
What difference? Ha!
Actually, what difference did it make? It’s not like she planned on dating the guy or anything. She certainly wasn’t interested in him—or anyone for that matter. She’d find some other poor schmuck to date for her column, then dump them once she boosted her ratings again.
“It’s the ick factor.”
He quirked a brow. “The ick factor? Lady bits? What are you, five?”
He had a point, but still...
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you,” he said.
