In His Corner. Vina Arno

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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 Virgin Mary’s face was small against his wide shoulder, her hair and veil flowing gracefully on his well-sculpted upper arm. Although the tattoo was that of a woman, the black ink gave it a masculine effect.

      “Some people get down on their knees to pray. Me—I got a tattoo.”

      She acknowledged him with a nod. He stated it as fact, but there was sadness in his voice. She examined his bruised ribs, pushing her right palm against them. “Does this hurt?”

      “A little.”

      “Did you hear a popping noise? Do you feel like something’s moving?”

      “No.”

      There was discoloration on his skin, a patch of red that was beginning to turn blue. No swelling at least. She pushed harder on various spots. He didn’t flinch. His body was rock hard. “No fractures, just bruises.” She took a hospital gown from the counter and gave it to him. “Please put this on.”

      He acquiesced.

      “Okay, I’m going to stitch you up. Are you ready?”

      “My life is in your hands.” He gave her an irresistible smile.

      She stood before him. Their faces were so close to each other he could probably hear the hammering of her heart. She touched his wound to make sure the anesthesia was working. “Does this feel numb?”

      “Yeah.”

      He trained his eyes on her like a laser beam. Between his gaze and her galloping heart, how was she supposed to do her work? She tilted her head away from him. “Can you close your eyes, please?”

      He smiled, then obeyed.

      Fifteen minutes later, it was over. She examined the stitches, marveling at his face—high cheek bones, aquiline nose, beautiful lips that needed healing. No man as attractive as he had ever walked into her ER before. It was reason enough to make any woman, doctor or not, excited. Who was the Juggernaut? What was he all about?

      “You can open your eyes now.”

      When he did, she stepped back, unable to stand his gaze. “You have seven stitches. They have to be removed in five days. Come back here on Sunday.”

      “I have to come back here?” He hopped off the bed, removed the hospital gown, and put on his shirt.

      “You don’t have to, but your ER fee covers the removal of the stitches. If you go somewhere else, you’ll be paying for a service you’ve already paid for. It’s up to you.”

      He nodded. “Will you be here on Sunday?”

      “No. But another doctor will take care of you.”

      He seemed disappointed, but he thanked her for the stitches.

      She went to the sink to wash her hands, relieved the procedure was over. She turned around. “Put ice on your bruises. Take ibuprofen if your forehead hurts.”

      He leaned against the bed, his gaze fastened on hers. “What does S stand for?”

      “Excuse me?” The man liked to say things out of the blue.

      He pointed at the left side of her scrub blouse.

      She glanced down at the embroidery that read S. Carr, MD. “It stands for Siena, with one n. I was named after a small city in Italy.”

      “Are you Italian?”

      “No. But my parents love Italy. I’m very fond of it as well.” That was an understatement. She was bound to Italy spiritually. Every visit there was so exhilarating that it touched her soul.

      “Siena.” His voice sounded like a caress; his stare was like a kiss.

      Warmth spread across her face. “No sparring for at least two weeks, okay?”

      “Two weeks?” He poked out his bottom lip. He looked like a boy.

      Boyish face and sturdy physique. The combination was giving her palpitations. Good looks alone had never impressed her. This man had something else altogether—presence, disarming directness, power. If she stayed another second, she was in danger of proving Nancy and Jonah right. She must leave. Pronto.

      “Good luck.” She turned on her heels.

      “Siena!”

      She stopped, glancing over her shoulder.

      “Siena with one n. I like that very much.”

      The words Excuse me? were on the tip of her tongue, but she caught herself. “Thank you.”

      Determined not to give herself away, she left calmly, though her heart was far from serene.

      Chapter 2

      Tommy Raines was back inside the ER five days after he’d met Siena Carr. Although he knew she wouldn’t be there that day, his heart sank when a male doctor showed up to remove his stitches.

      While the man fiddled with Tommy’s eyebrow, he closed his eyes and conjured up Siena’s image—face as delicate as a bone china cup, big brown eyes that sometimes looked innocent and sometimes sultry, and shoulder-length, golden brown hair. The СКАЧАТЬ