Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles. Teresa Southwick

out and read it. “Ninety-eight point six. What do you know? Right on the button. Completely normal.”

      “Don’t I get points for that?”

      “Let’s do the blood pressure and pulse before we start negotiating for pats on the back, hotshot.”

      She wrapped the black cuff around his upper arm and pressed the Velcro together to hold it in place. Pumping on the bulb, she inflated the contraption, then put the stethoscope in her ears with the flat, circular part on the inside of his elbow. The feel of her small, delicate fingers burned into his arm. He heard the slow whoosh of air as she released the pressure, and he watched her study the gauge.

      When it was completely deflated, she ripped off the cuff and met his gaze. “Hmm.”

      “What is it?”

      “One-twenty over eighty.”

      “I’ve watched enough medical dramas to know that’s right on the money.”

      And he was relieved that it hadn’t gone off the scale. The warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume, the sight of her soft skin combined to make him feel that the reading might blow the hell out of the indicator gauge. Insanity was the only explanation for his sudden, powerful urge to pull her into his arms.

      “Let’s not do the dance of joy just yet,” she cautioned. “There’s still your pulse.”

      Uh-oh. If she took that, he wouldn’t be able to hide his reaction to her. His heart was pounding, and she’d know it, too, as soon as she put her fingers on his wrist to take the reading. This whole thing was a bad idea. What had he been thinking to ask for her? Answer: he obviously hadn’t been thinking. At least not with his head.

      She took his forearm in her small hands and pressed two fingers to his wrist. He pulled back.

      Meeting his gaze, she said, “You lose points for that.”

      “I’ll chance it. As you can see, everything is in working order.” And then some, he thought ruefully.

      Why now? Why did he feel something? He’d trained himself when, where and how to let loose his feelings—when he was on the edge. And she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, which was fine and dandy, because he didn’t want anything to do with her, either. His mistake had been not settling for another nurse. He had to get rid of her.

      And he knew just how to do it.

      Simon reached over and took her small, pointed chin in his hand. Leaning forward, he noted the startled look in her eyes, just before he lowered his mouth to hers. He tasted shock and surprise. Then, for several heart-stopping seconds, her full lips softened and he swore he heard the barest hint of a sigh. Obviously, he was wrong, because she broke the contact and jumped up.

      She backed away several steps, as if he was fire and she was underbrush that hadn’t seen rain in months.

      “What in the world are you doing?” she asked, brushing the back of her hand across her mouth.

      “I think that was pretty obvious.”

      “Why did you do that?”

      “You’re a beautiful woman. I lost my head.”

      “Not yet. But it can be arranged,” she said, breathing hard.

      “Look, Megan—”

      Accusingly she pointed a finger at him. “No, you look. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing.”

      “It was no big deal.”

      “You’re right about that. But it was also completely inappropriate.”

      “Nothing personal,” he said.

      “Doggone right. And I was right about you, too. Big-time rule-breaker.”

      “Don’t get your stethoscope in a twist. I was just trying to shake you up.”

      “Is that so?” She glared at him. “It certainly confirms my assessment of you.”

      “That I’m the saturated fat in the veins of your life?”

      “Right on, buster. But in case I didn’t make myself clear, I don’t play games. I came here to do a job and you just made it impossible for me to do that. I don’t see signs of concussion—there’s an understatement,” she muttered.

      “No, I’m pretty alert—”

      “And your temp is normal,” she said, ignoring his comment. She gathered up her medical paraphernalia and stuffed it into her leather bag. “I don’t think there’s any infection. At least not in your most recent wounds. And if you’ve got one somewhere else, there’s not a darn thing I can do about it.”

      “What are you saying?”

      “I hope for your sake the abrasions are clean because I’m outta here. I’ll have the agency send someone else.”

      She turned on her heel and walked out the door.