Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
G race had been undecided whether or not to bother going to the ER doctor's clinic. The understated matte business card she clutched in her hand gave his name as Dr. Xavier Diaz and featured an upscale address. She didn't really have the time, but then what was the point in screwing up her courage to get treated at the ER if she just let the effort be wasted by not taking due care after the treatment? And it wasn't like her lunch break wasn't flexible enough to allow her the opportunity.
Of course, if she was completely honest with herself, it wasn't concern about her infected wounds that had prompted her to tell her PA she was leaving for a rare late lunch.
She walked down the quiet, upmarket street, with its statuesque, period buildings and plethora of well-kept trees, oblivious to the balmy delights of an unseasonably mild winter's day and unmindful of the occasional well-dressed patron. As she absently checked the address on the card to ensure she was heading in the right direction, she forced herself to admit the real truth. Oh, yes! If she was honest, then the real reason she was here right now was a blatant curiosity about the good doctor himself.
The olive-complexioned, dark-eyed, smokin' hot doctor who'd had her panties dampening with just a few words in that velvety, ever-so-slightly accented voice.
He hadn't said a word about the nature of her wounds, though she knew damn well he had examined them, and the rest of her, thoroughly.
Grace wasn't stupid. She’d read the nurse's concern and knew that the woman had hurried off to report the situation. She had honestly been expecting to get the third degree and her mind had been whirling with what kind of legitimate excuse she might be able to come up with.
After all, proper upper-class lawyers, especially those specialising in human rights, did not usually trot around with whip marks all over them.
The doctor, however, had taken it all in his stride as if it was nothing unusual at all, and for that, Grace had been overwhelmingly grateful. As well as a tad unbalanced. She might as well admit to that too, since she was being honest.
And then he had called her 'pet' and told her to be a 'good girl'. All seemingly innocuous on the face of it, but in reality, it had been almost BDSM 'code' to identify himself as being in the lifestyle.
Grace had asked herself over and over whether she’d actually heard him properly or if it had simply been a figment of her overactive, overstressed imagination.
Nevertheless, here she was, about to walk into his clinic to find out whether he was as good as his word…and also whether he was actually as hot and charismatic as she remembered.
She'd been too embarrassed and too committed to making an anonymous getaway to take a good look at him at the hospital, but the few quick glances she hadn't been able to prevent had left her with the impression of a fine looking hunk of man, roughly around her own thirty-nine years. Not exactly a spring chicken, but striking and fit, too, if the cut of his suit was anything to go by.
The premises, when she found them, were classy and understated. No hard, plastic seats and rowdy patients here.
All of the clientele were well-dressed and reserved, the seating deep and comfortable, and there was the luxury of an individual pod coffee-maker dispensing complimentary beverages at an immaculate station in the corner of the room, as well as a wide selection of individual tea sachets.
Grace made her way to the reception, where an elegant woman in a chic suit and a perfectly coiled French twist sat framed by two large, shiny-leafed potted plants. She smiled benignly as Grace approached and, not for the first time, Grace wondered if there would be a lot of uncomfortable paperwork to fill out. That was why she'd chosen the ER after all, too many busy people to check the little things she didn't want followed up on.
With a strained greeting, Grace thrust the card Dr. Diaz had given her across the desk and almost groaned out loud when the woman passed her a clipboard and a sheaf of forms, as if she was silently answering that unasked question.
"The doctor is running on schedule and you're in next, so you probably won't have time to finish those. Just take them in with you, so he has the pertinent information."
Grace took herself off to a chair in the corner with a sigh of relief. She might be able to skip some of the paperwork after all. And that became all the more conceivable when her name was called just minutes after she'd sat down. Well, she had to give him brownie points for that. It looked like the doctor really was as good as his word.
Grace followed the immaculate receptionist through a set of security doors and down a short hallway lined with a plush carpet and tasteful framed prints, until the woman gestured to a door to her right.
Nodding her thanks, she gave a polite, perfunctory knock before opening it to face the music.
What she was actually faced with was approximately six feet of dark, Latino good looks and impeccable manners as the doctor stood to greet her and shake her hand before motioning for her to take a seat and holding the chair while she did so.
"I'm glad you followed my advice to come here and have those dressings changed," he said with an easy smile and a complete lack of judgement, which immediately put her at ease.
"Did you get a chance to fill in any of the patient forms?"
It took Grace a moment to answer, so lulled was she by his smooth, deep voice that left her slightly flustered. Which, in turn, morphed into embarrassment when she realised she had neglected to reply.
"Oh! Um, I'm s-sorry…no. You were very punctual, and I…" she stammered and trailed off, thrusting the clipboard out to him and remonstrating with herself as she did so. Good grief! What on earth was wrong with her? She was behaving like a love-struck schoolgirl and she was way past that era of her life!
In fact, she was rather bemused. She was at an age now where she thought she’d already seen or experienced anything and everything that might interest her, and there were no more surprises left in life. And…oh Lord! He had spoken again and was now looking at her expectantly and she'd completely missed it! Way to go, Grace. He probably thinks you're a complete flake!
"Sorry." She had to stop and clear her throat. Heat flooded her face and she decided there was nothing to do but to face it head on. "I was a little distracted. What were you saying?" she asked in what was supposed to be her calmest, most well-modulated voice. Except it came out sounding a little too much like a squeak. Oh please ground, just open up and swallow me now!
At least the doctor was well-mannered enough not to react at all, whatever he might be thinking.
He depressed the top of his pen in readiness to write, and the sound seemed abnormally loud in the quiet room.
"I said, shall we fill in a few of these details so we can get things processed? I imagine you are reluctant to share, but I can assure you everything…" He looked up at her then and pierced her with dark eyes that almost read as black in their intensity. "… absolutely everything is treated with the strictest confidence here."
Grace sucked in a breath. She could hardly argue, after all. "Of course," she agreed, still somewhat dubious.
The doctor nodded. "Okay, then. Full name?"
"Grace Elizabeth Miller."
"Address?"
She rattled it off, knowing she wouldn't get away with leaving the pertinent information off, this time, as she had in the ER.
This man struck her as being a stickler for detail, and she doubted she'd get anything past him at all. Still, she couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief when he stopped after filling in just the most basic personal information.
"Right, that will do for now since, technically, you aren't registered as one of my patients. Why don't you take your shirt off and settle yourself on the examination table behind the screen, and we'll take a look at those wounds?"
It was really more of a command than a request, but for the moment, Grace was glad to be away from his unswerving scrutiny. The man was doing funny things to her insides, and that wasn’t a sensation she was used to.
As she stripped off, Grace couldn't help wishing it was under slightly different circumstances. Jesus! What was wrong with her? Sure, he was hot with his dark good looks and that jet-black hair with the sophisticated touch of silver at his temples, but it was quite unlike her to daydream about what might lie underneath a man's clothes. She usually got hot and sweaty thinking about whether or not a dominant would have a decent whip hand, not what his body was like. That sort of thing was just a lucky bonus.
Was Dr. Diaz a dominant, or was her overactive imagination just fantasising about such things? As soon as the thought entered her head, she involuntarily conjured up a picture in her mind of the good doctor, his naked chest displayed and an implement of sadistic pleasure in his hand. She couldn't control the full body shiver of anticipation that shuddered through her frame as she settled herself onto the examination table.
"Are you cold?" came the query from somewhere behind her.
Oh, hell! Thank goodness her flaming face was averted this time. Would there be no end to her embarrassment today?
"I'm fine, thank you," she assured him, her voice muffled from where she had her head buried in the crook of her elbow.
Still, she had to steel herself against the next shiver that threatened to rip through her when she felt his hands on her back as he peeled away the dressings.
Down, girl! she warned herself sharply.
"Ah, these are healing nicely at last," she heard him say, satisfaction evident in his deep voice. "I'm going to apply some petroleum jelly before I redress them. That will keep the wounds clean and moist and also provide an occlusive layer, which will help keep the wounds sealed, decreasing the risk of further infection. It will also hydrate them, which in turn, stimulates the healing process. It would be a good idea for you to keep some on hand for future use, if you incur such lacerations on a regular basis."
Grace didn't answer him, just nodded her head in agreement. What the heck was she supposed to say to that, after all?
"Right, we're all done, so you can get dressed again," he instructed.
Grace heard the snap of a pair of latex gloves being peeled off as the doctor walked away, leaving her behind the privacy of the screen curtain, along with all her less than professional thoughts.
She dressed quickly and readied herself for a swift return to her office, but despite expecting to make a quick getaway once she was done, she was sadly mistaken.
"Take a seat, Miss Miller," Dr. Diaz directed when she emerged. "I'd like to go over a few things."
Despite the embarrassment of her wayward instincts, Grace did as she was told. It was no great hardship to be in the doctor's presence a little longer, and this was probably the last time she'd get to see him, after all.