4. TESSA #2
My heart stuttered. He remembered my medical history? But of course he did. Dr. Blake Morrison probably filed away medical details like other people collected baseball cards.
“First time for everything,” I managed, aiming for casual and probably hitting somewhere around guilty teenager explaining a curfew violation. “But I’ve always gotten lightheaded whenever I stand up too quickly.”
He paused, and I could practically see him rifling through his mental file cabinet.
“Has it gotten worse?”
“Look,” I blurted out, suddenly desperate to escape those too-observant eyes. “I appreciate the concern, but I only came to rule out a concussion. I’m fine. Really.”
Blake’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticcing there that I definitely wasn’t staring at. Not at all. After a few seconds, he pushed off the wall with grace, checking my monitor with a slight edge to his brows.
“Blood pressure’s low.”
“Always has been.” Please, just let me go. Don’t look at me like that. Li ke I’m a tantalizing puzzle you’re determined to solve, piece by maddening piece.
“Could explain the lightheadedness.”
Yes! He’s totally buying there’s nothing to see here! Almost home free.
“I’m going to examine you now.”
The stethoscope slid from around his neck, and suddenly, Blake was leaning so close. The scent of his probably organic body wash did all sorts of unwanted things to me. The cold metal pressed just above my left breast, and I swear my treacherous heart skipped a beat.
Don’t think about his hands. Don’t you dare think about how many times you dreamed of him touching you. Just pretend the simple act of listening to my heartbeat doesn’t feel more intimate than any first date I’d ever been on.
He glanced at the screen again, a flicker of … something … in his eyes.
“Your heart’s racing.”
Great. Now my feelings were literally being broadcast to him in high definition.
“Yours would be, too, if someone shoved cold metal on your chest,” I quipped.
“Sit up.”
His hand wrapped around my shoulder—warm, solid, confident—guiding me forward. That simple touch sent a flash of heat searing across my skin, and I silently cursed whatever twisted karmic event I’d done to deserve having him as my doctor.
“Deep breath.”
I inhaled shakily, and because, apparently, I enjoyed torturing myself, I looked up.
Bad idea. Catastrophically bad idea. His mouth …
God, his mouth was exactly as I remembered from all those forbidden fantasies.
Soft yet firm, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, the kind of mouth poets wrote sonnets about and artists immortalized in marble.
Our eyes locked, and I felt the air between us shift, growing heavy with unspoken tension.
Heat flooded my cheeks as recognition flashed across his face.
He’d caught me staring at his lips like a woman starving for a taste, not a patient awaiting a diagnosis.
Time stretched between us as his smoldering gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering there with an intensity that made my breath catch.
One heartbeat. Two. Three. Until Blake finally cleared his throat, the stethoscope finding its way back around his neck with hands that weren’t quite as steady as before.
Blake’s eyes raked over my body, a frown tugging at the corners of his sinful mouth. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”
“Stress.” I shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. “And I need to do a better job of eating three meals a day.”
Lies. The truth was, nausea had infected my life.
It appeared with no rhyme or reason, and while I was lucky enough to not actually worship the porcelain goddess on a daily basis, the persistent queasiness had definitely done a number on my appetite.
Hence the weight loss that apparently only Dr. Observant here had picked up on without so much as glancing at my chart.
Wait a minute … my medical records … would he have the authority to pull up all of my medical records? From all the doctors I had seen?
“Those circles under your eyes. How long have they been there?” His gaze narrowed, clinical assessment battling with something far more personal, more intense.
I shrugged. “Bad night’s sleep. That’s all.”
“Insomnia?” He arched a skeptical brow.
“Try running a start-up.” Please, stop looking at me like that, like you can see right through me.
Blake turned to the computer, his frown deepening as he scrolled through my chart.
“These tests aren’t telling me why you fainted. I want to see the results of the CT scan.”
Panic clawed at my throat. “Am I showing signs of a concussion?”
“No.”
“Then I’d like to be released.” I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice, but it clung to every word.
His head tilted to that dangerous angle I remembered all too well, the one that meant Blake was gearing up for a fight he had no intention of losing.
“Tessa, you could have cracked your skull open. We’re finding out why this happened, end of story.”
“Blake, I don’t need more tests. I need Gatorade and a nap.”
“You hit your head.” His voice dropped to a low growl that made my skin prickle with awareness. “This isn’t up for debate. We need to run tests to find out why this happened.”
Tests. More freaking tests. Something snapped inside me, frustration boiling over.
“I’ve already had a CBC, comprehensive metabolic panel, thyroid function tests, iron studies, and cortisol levels checked. Everything’s normal. I’m fine.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Blake went utterly still, realization dawning in his eyes like a slow-motion car crash. The brilliant doctor in him was connecting dots I’d worked damn hard to leave scattered.
“Why would a doctor order extensive endocrine workups and stress hormone panels on an otherwise healthy thirty-three-year-old woman?”
Crap. “She’s just … very thorough. Likes to cover all her bases.”
His expression softened, concern etching into the lines around his mouth. “Tessa, you can trust me. If something’s wrong, if you’re sick or in trouble?—”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
I straightened my spine, channeling my best take-no-prisoners boardroom voice.
“With all due respect, Dr. Morrison, I appreciate your concern, but right now, you’re my physician, I’m your patient, and I’m formally requesting to be released. Immediately.”
The transformation was subtle but instantaneous. Shoulders squaring, jaw tightening, eyes hardening. Clearly, the formidable Blake Morrison wasn’t accustomed to having control wrestled away from him. Several tense heartbeats passed before he spoke.
“Fine.” The single word carried the weight of a thousand reluctant concessions. “One final test. Stand up and walk a few steps. Show me your balance isn’t compromised. Then, and only then, will I release you. Provided your CT doesn’t come back concerning.”
Relief flooded my strained muscles, sweet as honey, but guilt followed close behind.
I hadn’t meant to be so harsh with him, to push him away when all he wanted was to help.
Maybe I could make it up to him sometime.
Grab a beer, shoot the breeze, do something normal people did.
Not people with complicated histories and unspoken secrets.
I swung my legs over the bed’s edge, feet finding linoleum.
“I’m sorry,” I offered quietly, taking my first tentative step toward him. “I didn’t mean to be such a ru?—”
Oh crap. Houston, we have a problem. Namely that my head had suddenly transformed into a helium balloon, the room was tilting sideways at a decidedly alarming angle, and the edges of my vision were bleeding to inky-black-like watercolors in the rain.
I tried to turn around and make a desperate reach for the safety of the bed, but my rising panic only made the dizziness worse.
I’m going down. I’m going to face-plant on this unforgiving floor and shatter my nose, and Blake is going to have to stitch me back together like human Humpty freakin’ Dumpty.
But suddenly, strong arms caught me mid-fall, and the world dissolved into disjointed fragments: the solid warmth of his broad chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my flushed cheek, the gentle sway as he lifted me effortlessly, and the soft creak of the mattress as he laid me down gently.
“Tessa?” His voice cut through the encroaching darkness, urgent and achingly familiar.
Light crept back in, and when I finally managed to pry my eyelids open, I caught the exact moment his relief transformed into something fierce and furious and protective.
“That’s it,” Blake snapped. “You just earned yourself a full workup and an overnight stay for observation.” His jaw hardened. “With me.”