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She glanced down at our hands, and then back to me. “I still can’t believe you even bothered to come help me after I ditched you.”

“Ouch,” I grimaced for dramatic effect. “Ditched is such a harsh word. What happened to my ego?” I let go of her hands, but only so I could lean forward and circle her waist with my hands. She noticed what I wanted to do, and started to help me sit her up, but I lifted her into a sitting position before she could accidentally pull at the stitches in her knee. “I’ve got you, Shortstop.”

She pushed at her glasses. “I don’t think your ego needs any help.”

I grinned. “You might be right. I’m a little on the cocky side.”

Her lips twitched. “Good thing, I guess.”

I indulged in another fast perusal of her full lips and gray eyes, following the gentle slope of her heart-shaped face and square chin. My heart clenched at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t shown up. “Good thing,” I agreed quietly. A little louder, I added, “I’ll take one more round of vitals, and then I’ll be out of your springy hair.”

Ruth pulled a face, putting her hand to her messy curls. “Yikes.”

I smiled, pulling out the infrared thermometer from my bag. “I like your hair, for the record.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She set her hands in her lap, playing with the pilling on the tortilla-print blanket. I imagined her all wrapped up in it like a cute little Ruth burrito, and I had to fight a laugh.

I pointed the thermometer at her forehead, and her eyes crossed a bit as she looked up at it. I snorted as the display read 103.4. “Better,” I said noncommittally. I entered it into her chart I had pulled up on my phone. “Give me your finger.” She held up her pointer finger on her left hand, her eyes shimmering with a quiet kind of interest as she watched me. I slipped the pulse ox on her finger. “What are you thinking?”

She hesitated, letting her hand fall to her lap and watching the blue light that blinked on the display. Finally, her voice sounded strained as she confessed, “I’m thinking, please don’t put your hand down my shirt with your stethoscope.”

I paused on my way to my bag for my blood pressure cuff. “Pardon?”

“The, you know, the thing.” She nodded toward my bag. “With the stethoscope. I really think you shouldn’t—I mean I might actually light on… fire…” she finished with a swallow.

My open mouth curved into a smile. Slowly, I leaned to my right and then lifted the stethoscope from my bag. I let it dangle between us. “You mean this?”

Her entire face went salmon red. “Yeah,” she squeezed out.

I flattened my lips together, fighting hard against another laugh that might add to her obvious embarrassment. But she was watching me with rapt attention, her full lips parted slightly and her breasts rising and falling fast. She was wearing a faded, heather gray nightshirt that had several buttons undone to the gap in her cleavage, and I wondered how easy it might be to undo the rest of them down to her navel. I glanced down at the pulse ox on her finger, and my smile darkened as her heart rate climbed from 101 to 110 to 119, and kept on spiking. I hooked her light eyes with mine. Her breath hitched, and her fists tightened around the blanket.

Still doing my best to school my features into a semblance of seriousness, I leaned forward, propping my left knee on the couch at her hip. With the stethoscope bunched in my right hand, I leaned my weight on the back of the couch, and with my left, I reached out with tentative fingers for her jaw. Ruth lifted her chin to meet me, lashes flaring and mouth opening with an inhale of surprise when I cupped her cheek. I leaned over her, reveling in how soft her skin felt beneath my fingers. “You don’t want me to touch you, Ruth?”

“I, um,” she gusted out. She licked her lips, glancing down my torso, and then back up. “I think the problem is that I do.”

I slid my fingers around her neck, cupping the back of her head and angling my mouth over hers. “How about now? You still want me to touch you?”

“Uh-huh.” She sounded as dazed as I felt. Lust roared to life inside of me, crackling along my nerve endings and setting myskin on fire. The small part of her that I had managed to cradle in my palm suddenly wasn’t enough. I wanted her. All of her.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth again, and this time, I closed the distance between us and gave in to my impulse. I licked at the tight line pulled taut between her white teeth, and as she sucked in a surprised breath, she released that full lip. I sucked it between my tongue and teeth, drawing her up to meet my mouth. I released her lip, but then our lips sealed in a soft, slow kiss. She let out a little moan that went straight to my groin.

Her hands came up to grasp the front of my shirt, and to my surprise, she tugged me down closer. I shifted my weight to keep from putting any of it on her, deepening our kiss with starving desperation.

Had I been so hungry for Ruth all along? I had, I realized. As her soft lips sucked and explored, I realized that I had been in a famine since Friday night, and this kiss might be bringing me back from the brink of insanity. I slanted my mouth over hers, moving my hand to her neck and down her silky collarbone, following the line of her nightshirt.

She gasped, and her hands tightened on my shirt. I nearly fell on top of her, but my hand on the back of the couch managed to keep my little matchmaker from accidentally flattening her body under my weight. I wasn’t about to make her knee any worse than it already was. I flicked my tongue along the top of her teeth, and she sighed, opening her mouth for me.

Je-sus.I’d have lost a bet that wagered Dr. Coldwell was agreedy kisser. It felt good to be wrong. I let her battle for dominance, filling my mouth with her small, pink tongue before I nipped her lip and eased away the hurt with a softened, lingering kiss.

My watch buzzed on my left wrist, startling Ruth. She pulled away with a surprised start, and her lips tucked inward, like she was embarrassed.

Geraldine. Patients. Dammit.Breathing hard, I pressed my forehead against hers and cupped her cheek again. “I’m sorry Ruth. I forgot about my other patient.”

She nodded, blowing out a calming breath. “Of course. I’m—I didn’t mean to—God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?” I pulled away, frowning. “I’m the one who’s acting unprofessionally.” She sniffed, adjusting her glasses, and stared up at me with those wide, yellow-ringed eyes. I wanted to bury my face in the crook of her neck and unravel her in every way.

“I’m not usually like this,” she offered weakly.