It was hard to forget when he shared mine. “You tell me, and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”
“Perfect. Team position?”
He hesitated. “Uh…Ritalin.”
“Helps me focus.” He leaned forward. “And… Propranolol.”
“Oh.” The word trembled from my lips. I hated asking it. “Migraines?”
“Not so many anymore. It’s really been improving these last few months.”
“Good,” I said. “And what about your life? Any sex—symptoms? Any recurrent problems from your last concussion? Dizziness?”
I snorted. “Lucky you.”
“Nothing. Any changes in your sleeping patterns? Taking longer to fall asleep?”
“I don’t know. Don’t have anyone in my bed to ask. Well…except for Phillip.”
The clip board dropped, and my heart with it. “W—What?”
Hallelujah. “You have a dog?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Okay…” I cleared my throat. “Any irritability or change in mood? Sadness? Anger issues?”
“I’m feeling a lot better now that I’ve seen you.”
I wagged the pen at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Owens.”
“Yeah…” Jude sighed, running his thick fingers through his hair. Did he really have to smile when he said it? “You’re probably immune to my charms by now.”
“Fully inoculated. You’ll have to try harder. I’m partial to flowers and candy.”
“Well, hell, if I’m allowed to bribe the doctor, I might as well ask her to dinner.”
“What makes you think she’d say yes?”
“Because I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
That wasn’t a growl, it was a warning. Time to get this test done before my heart raced my stomach out through my mouth.
“Okay, follow this pen.” I held it before me, tracking his vision as he followed it to the left and right. His eyes were gorgeous, the color of silvered light and the fierce strike of metal against metal. But his gaze broke several times, zipping down.
I didn’t like that. Was it inattentiveness? Could he focus on the object?
“Jude…you aren’t watching the pen.”
He rubbed his neck. “Sorry, Rory. Instinct I guess.”
He pointed to my shirt. “You’ve…grown up quite a bit.”
I looked down, mortified. The blouse broke away, and the white camisole contrasted my smooth dark skin. My cleavage practically spilled out of the blouse. Shameful.
And a little awesome too.
But mostly shameful.
I covered the shirt with a hand. “It’s part of the test…measuring your attention span.”
Jude smirked. “Let’s hope these questions don’t get any harder.”
“If the test lasts for longer than four hours, call the doctor.”
“Should I call for you?”
“What if I’m the one torturing you?”
“I’ll count my lucky stars.”
Two hundred thousand dollars for a medical degree didn’t prepare me for this. I stood before I said anything too revealing. “Next I’ll check your peripheral vision.”
I held out my fingers, hating how they trembled like I was a little school girl again, spying on Jude in his varsity jacket.
How long were crushes supposed to last anyway?
I extended my fingers on either side of his head. I moved them backwards, careful to keep them parallel to each other.
“Tell me when you can no longer see my hands,” I said.
Jude’s eyebrow twitched as I took a step closer. This test was an idiotic move. If I got any nearer, I’d practically be hugging this man.
Or suffocating him.
My arms were short, he sat too tall, and my chest exceeded everyone’s personal space. Jude nodded as I edged between his legs, my hands at his shoulders.
“They’re gone,” he said.
Heat washed over me. His and mine. My head fuzzied a little too much, like when the wine and bad decisions had led to my current predicament.
I accidentally stared into his eyes. Beautiful, stunning, absolutely intense eyes.
I panicked, whipping out the pen light I stashed in my pants pocket. Jude flinched when I abruptly shone the light into his eyes, but his pupils contracted correctly. He blinked, and I escaped his heat, his body, my own selfish desires—
“How am I doing, Doc?” Jude’s voice sliced through me like scissors through silk.