Page 2 of Getting Off

But this doctor only watched him with those blue eyes like a librarian watching for misbehavior between the stacks. His grin had no effect.

He decided he liked the challenge. He wanted to make her smile.

She looked like she needed it. Hell, she looked tired.

Everything about her was pale. Light blue scrubs, a white jacket that came down past her hips and was carefully buttoned up the front, porcelain skin from too much time indoors.

She had a stethoscope around her elegant neck.

A neck that was on full display thanks to her tightly contained hair, tortured into a bun.

“Call me Dylan,” he said. “I’m just waiting for someone to sign off on this so I can roll out of here.” He lifted his left wrist, which was currently swathed in an ace bandage with a stiff brace on it.

The doctor—she still hadn’t introduced herself—raised one pale brow. She reminded him of one of those ballet dancers that were so delicate that a guy like Dylan was afraid he’d break her in half. But she definitely had fire in those blue eyes. He got the feeling she wasn’t someone to mess with.

Which only made him want to mess with her even more.

The doctor looked at the wrist brace. She met his eyes again. “Mr. Pierce, I hardly think your wrist is what’s keeping you here in our care. You had a head injury as well.”

“You mean it’s bad that I’m seeing two beautiful women in front of me right now?”

Her eyes narrowed with concern. “Are you seeing double, Mr. Pierce?”

He grinned at her again. “No, that was me flirting. I don’t think I caught your name, doctor.”

Her brow furrowed. She looked adorable when she was flustered. “I’m Dr. Foster.”

“Doctor…” Dylan said coaxingly. “You have a first name, right?”

Oh, that had ruffled her feathers. She straightened until Dylan could’ve sworn he heard her spine crack. Those blue eyes flashed fire.

“My given name is irrelevant to this medical evaluation, Mr. Pierce. I’m here to inform you that you have a concussion.

” She pulled out a pair of glasses from a pocket as she moved past him.

She tapped a few keys on the keyboard on the computer cart and pulled up one of those crazy looking bran scan things with all of the colors.

“You can see it right here. Swelling and activity indicative of a mild concussion.” She whipped out a penlight and began waving it in front of his eyes.

“Do you have any spots in your vision, vertigo, or any kind of dizziness?”

“Only when you entered the room, Doctor Beautiful.”

She stared at him. He gave her the widest grin he could.

The compliment was hands-down stupid and cheesy beyond belief, but he noticed her lips twitch as if she were fighting a smile at his sheer obnoxious gall. Good. He wanted to make her smile. He’d happily make a fool of himself for that.

Maybe that way she’d sign off on his release so he could get back behind the wheel.

“You can’t charm me with silly compliments, Mr. Pierce,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him…but she was smiling now. It was a genuine smile, and it made her look stunning. “I’m not letting you escape just because you give me puppy dog eyes, either.”

He snorted, playing put-out, but he was happy she was warming up a little. Her smile was good progress.

She turned away to read something on the computer screen. Probably so she could hide from his overwhelming charm. Who could blame her?

But about that, he was wrong. The old ego had gotten a little out of hand. Dr. Foster was staring intently at the screen and frowning again, her smile gone. “It says here you were in a car accident.”

“A car accident? It was way more awesome than that.”

She looked at him as if he was crazy. Or had messed up his brain.

“I’m an off-road racer,” he continued proudly. “I was coming around a curve and took a steep bank too fast.” He shrugged. “It happens. But when I hit the brakes, the truck spun out and flipped.”

He felt a jolt of adrenaline as he remembered the truck tumbling over and over down the hill until he’d come to a stop upside down, the truck flipped onto its roof. What a rush! As crashes went, it was a nine point two.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “So you flipped your truck. No other vehicles were involved?”

“Just myself. No other vehicles got so much as a dent. We’re strict on that.

On those trials, the trucks are spaced so that it’s near impossible to pass each other out there on the track.

And if there’s a serious wreck, all racers are stopped.

So if you’ll sign me off, I can get back out there tomorrow. ”

Holy cow, the look on her face! Her jaw was slack; her eyes were wide. He suddenly realized that those blue eyes hiding behind her glasses were incredibly alluring. Or maybe it was the way she was looking at him. It wasn’t really horror. No. It was something else. She was fascinated.

“You have a concussion, Mr. Pierce,” she said slowly as if he were intoxicated and was having trouble understanding. “Do you truly believe you’re ready to be back on the track?”

Dylan gave a dismissive wave of his good hand. “Hell, yeah. This is nothing. I sprained my wrist a little. The club medic wasn’t sure if it was broken or not, that’s why he sent me here.”

That was a bit of a dodge on his part. He needed the exam form to clear him so he could get back out there. But it was always best to paint a rosy picture. Positive thinking and all that.

Something flashed behind her eyes. It was not amusement. “Did your club medic think to check you over for a concussion?”

“Sure.” Dylan frowned. “That’s why I’m not buying that I have one worth worrying about. Donnie says I don’t. So, if you can just give me an overpriced aspirin or something, I’ll be on my way.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Pierce.” She looked concerned. “Your wrist has a minor sprain. You probably don’t even need that brace. But you cannot hop in another one of those dangerous trucks and jostle your brain around. You must be careful while you heal. You need to take a week and rest.”

“A week ?” God, that was an eternity not to be behind the wheel and churning through the dirt.

“At least a week. You’ll probably notice your focus isn’t as sharp as it was, and your reflexes might be off. In this dangerous hobby you’re describing, I would think that your reflexes are of paramount importance.”

Paramount importance? Who talked that way? Dylan blinked at her and wondered if this was the time to tell her whatever and walk out. He could do that, right? Just had to sign some papers and walk out on his own two feet. He was a grown man, after all.

But he couldn’t drive at the club until he had a doctor sign off on him, so he was screwed if he got all high and mighty and flounced out of here.

He rubbed his temple, sighing. The headache had started not long after the wreck. Still, that kind of thing went away soon enough on its own. It certainly didn’t take a week.

“You have a headache, don’t you?” She made a gentle, chiding noise.

Dr. Foster gently drew his hand away from his temple and lightly used the pad of her thumb to pull at his eyelids. Her hands were soft and cool. She smelled good too. Some kind of perfume or soap. Her touch was soothing.

That was an odd sort of thought. Perhaps he’d smacked his head harder than he’d thought…like this doctor kept insisting.

“Mr. Pierce, while I respect the passion you obviously have for your sport, I’m going to have to strongly recommend that you take some time to rest.”

“You know what they say.” He gave her a cocky grin. “I can rest when I’m dead.”

She pursed her lips and gazed directly into his eyes. “Not even remotely funny, Mr. Pierce.”

“ Dylan . If you’re gonna ground me, you can at least use my first name.” He grinned at her. “Besides, it was a little funny.”

“No, Dylan. It was the opposite of funny.” But she was smiling a little again, so that was a win.

“I know nobody likes to be grounded, but I’d hate to see you back in my care with a more serious traumatic brain injury.

I imagine you’ve had several concussions in your life, since you seem like the type.

It makes you more susceptible. Do you always wear a helmet? ”

“Yeah. It’s club rules. Hey, I’m crazy, but not that crazy.”

She smirked. Her lips were really full. And kissable. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was thinking about that right now. Who got horny at a hospital?

“I’m glad to hear that, at least,” she said. “But helmets don’t always prevent concussions. We don’t know all the causes of a concussion and can’t design a perfect helmet to prevent all possible injury scenarios.”

She was still touching him. Her fingers rested lightly on his right temple, and Dylan wondered why she hadn’t dropped her hand. Except, he didn’t really want her to drop her hand. He liked the way it felt.

How long had it been since Dylan had been with a woman?

He couldn’t remember exactly, and that had nothing to do with hitting his head.

Hell, he loved a naked man as much as he loved a naked woman, but in the past couple years, he’d simply drifted toward men.

They were far less complicated. Dylan didn’t have time for complications when he was about to turn pro.

That said, there was definitely something about a woman…

This woman, for example.

“Are you single?” Dylan asked her suddenly.

She dropped her hand and drew back. “I can’t imagine what that has to do with your health, Mr. Pierce.”

“I have a concussion, remember? It gives me the right to ask crazy questions.” Despite his attempt at a quick recovery, Dylan felt stupid.

That question had been as subtle as a train wreck.

Nice job. Besides, why did he care whether Doctor Beautiful was single or not?

He couldn’t see her riding motocross or climbing behind the wheel of an off-roader. Why would he chase her?

“You’re certainly a handful,” she said but didn’t answer his question. “That’s doctor slang for a ‘problem patient.’”

He laughed. “See? You aren’t as uptight and stuffy as the rest of the doctors around here.”

She actually flinched a little at his words. He felt a spike of concern. He’d said the wrong thing that time. No smile for him.

He reached out and touched her hand. “Hey. Sorry if I was out of line there.” Then he grinned. “I have a concussion.”

She laughed. “So that’s going to be your excuse from here on out, is it?”

“You got it, doc. You have a great smile too. I’m saying that strictly as your patient, so don’t get any ideas,” he warned. “Now, what do you do for fun?” He rubbed his chin. “Let me guess. You golf. You doctor types always golf.”

“What’s wrong with golfing?”

“Spoken like a true golfer.”

“I don’t golf!”

“Rock climbing?”

“Do I look insane to you?”

No, but she did look beautiful. He couldn’t deny that. “So you’re afraid to get scraped up?”

“You have a very unique view of the world, Mr. Pierce,” she said archly. “Do I look like I want to not only risk my life but risk an injury that might render me incapable of doing the job I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars educating myself to do?”

Dylan only laughed. “Fair point. But did you ever do anything physical?”

“Dance.”

“Ha! I knew it!”

She glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You look like a dancer.” Dylan did not bother to hide his appreciative grin.

“What does that mean?”

Hell, if she demanded he go into detail. “Long legs, narrow hips, nice, tight…”

“What? Ass?”

“Is that the medical term?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure.”

He knew he’d probably gone over the line on that one. But he wanted her to know that he found her attractive, even if she shot him down. He wanted to compliment her.

She only stared at him evenly as if she couldn’t quite wrap her head around him. “It’s impressive you can admire my posterior given the fact that I’m wearing scrubs and a long doctor’s jacket.”

“You caught me,” he admitted. “I’m only guessing based on how attractive I find the rest of you.

” That one didn’t land either. He was off his game.

She was looking at him as if she had his number now.

He chose to head in another direction. “So, can you sign my form releasing me? I promise to pack my head in ice and whatever else you want.”

“I will happily sign your release form…after a follow-up appointment.”

“What? So you are gonna ground me after all.” All that charm, wasted. Not only had he wrecked his truck, he’d struck out with the sexy doctor too.

She looked far too smug. “Mr. Pierce, please contact my office in a week for a follow-up appointment. A nurse will give you the information. The ER physician on duty will be in shortly to finish with your wrist and to release you.”

Dylan opened his mouth to make another quip about getting her personal phone number but thought better of it. She did look tired, and he’d pushed it far enough. He’d made her smile, so mission accomplished. Yeah, it sucked that he’d been grounded, but at least he’d get to see her again.

He gave her a little salute. “Yes, ma’am. Until we meet again.”