“Heck yeah.” Ally’s heart went out to all the patients, but she was especially touched by the children. She changed from her blue lab coat to the white one she wore on the floor, then grabbed the tray of supplies she’d need to draw blood as Marty read off the order, telling her which room, the patient’s name, and the doctor who’d ordered the procedure. Marty rated the doctor a four on the fear-inducing scale they used in the laboratory to assess the doctors’ attitudes toward the staff. A four meant that he was prone to nasty comments but did so calmly. In other words, he’d rip the staff to shreds while smiling, as opposed to a five, who was more like a rabid dog. Ally didn’t like to deal with fives because it was difficult for her not to give them shit right back, and doing so would cost her her job. At least with a four she could tune out the words and focus on the smile.
On her way up to the seventh floor she debated telling Heath where she lived. At least that way they would know if seeing each other was even an option. Otherwise, how long would this game go on? She loved every second of it, but she was already feeling a little addicted to their naughty texts and hoping for more sexy calls. How would she feel if they did this for another week or two and then suddenly the calls and texts stopped?
She pushed away those thoughts and made herself stop thinking about texting Heath so she wasn’t delayed in taking blood from the little boy, who was probably a nervous wreck.
She found the seven-year-old boy, Johnny Waselchec, watching television.
“Hey there, buddy.” She smiled as she came around the bed and set her supplies down.
Johnny looked over with the widest blue eyes she’d ever seen and clutched his mother’s hand. His mother slid a nervous smile to Ally.
Ally glanced at the television, determined to keep his mind off the needle.
“Cartoons? I wonder if my boss would mind if I watched with you for a while.” She patted the mattress beside his legs. “Move over. I’ll sit right here.”
Johnny laughed.
“What? You don’t think I should?” She wrinkled her brow.
“No,” he said with another sweet laugh. “You have to work, not watch television.”
Ally huffed. “This grown-up stuff is highly overrated. I’d much rather watch cartoons. But I guess if I have to work, I will. You don’t have to work, though. Lucky for you, you can just watch that show while I work.” By the time he looked at his arm, she’d already cleaned the area over his vein and was ready to draw his blood. She glanced back up at the television.
“Why don’t you watch that show. Since I’m not allowed to watch, can you tell me what’s happening? I hate missing cartoons.”
Johnny blinked up at the television. “The dog is trying to catch the cat.”
She heard a thread of fear in his voice and tried to ease his worry, knowing the needle wouldn’t hurt too badly. It was usually the idea of the needle that hurt more than the stick itself. She’d often thought that if blood draws were celebrated instead of feared, children wouldn’t be quite as afraid. Hey, Johnny! You get to give blood today! Isn’t that great? But she assumed that by the time a child needed to have his or her blood drawn, the parents were too worried to think of such things, and she didn’t blame them one bit.
“You’re going to feel a little pinch, but don’t worry—afterward you get really cool stickers. I’ll give you two extra stickers if you keep telling me about the cartoon.”
He smiled and relayed the cartoon as she took his blood. When she was done, he gazed up at his mom and said, “You were right, Mom. Only a little pinchy.”
Johnny chose his stickers—four instead of two—and Ally thanked him for telling her about the cartoon before she headed back down to the lab. She changed her lab coat and resumed her work.
The afternoon passed without another text from Heath. Ally tried to convince herself that was a good thing. Really, how far could a relationship based on a few nights of hot sex and one act of phone sex really go? The closer it got to the end of her shift, the more annoyed she became with herself for checking her phone. When had she become so dependent? He probably had a handful of girls—or more—that he played these games with. She took out her phone and deleted the flirty texts.
No more sexy texts with a guy she hardly knew. God, what had she been thinking anyway? She’d have given Mandy hell if she were playing the same sexy games with a stranger. Only he’s not really a stranger.
She groaned at herself for rationalizing the situation, chalked it up to a momentary lapse in judgment, and tried to focus on her work. Not that she regretted a second of their time together, or the phone call, or the texts. No, the momentary lapse in judgment was for her inability to stop checking her damned phone and wishing he’d text or call again.
I’m so glad I’m done with that craziness.
Only losers have phone sex.
Even if it was a total turn-on.
Even if he is hotter than any man I’ve ever seen.
She put her hand in the pocket of her lab coat and felt her phone, wishing it would vibrate, and she knew she was already in too deep to shut off her thoughts that easily.
She was looking through a microscope, working on the last order she needed to complete before the end of her shift, when a familiar deep voice sent a shiver down her spine and a shock of heat between her legs. She raised her eyes just as Heath walked into the room. Wearing a white dress shirt and a tie, covered by a white lab coat, he was even more devastatingly handsome than she’d remembered. He looked taller, broader, but those intense blue eyes bored through her with the same animal magnetism that they had the first time they’d seen each other at the resort—and the second. And the third.