Dr. Tempt Me - A Possessive Doctor Romance

I shouldn’t have done it. I should have leaned into that moment and enjoyed it like I wanted to, but years and years of keeping people at a distance trained me to react with anger to any perceived hint of emotion and warmth.

It wasn’t a good quality of mine, but it was necessary to get me through the day, to keep me going, keep me sane.

I didn’t hear from him right away, not until a couple days later. I was looking in on a patient, a young girl named Lynn. She was a little pixie of a thing with short dark hair, big round eyes, and a beaming, infectious smile. I’d seen her in the hospital a couple of times before, each time coming in for the same complaint: a constant headache, most of the time mild and dull, but sometimes so intense it made her vomit and shake. Today was one of those awful times, and she grimaced as I walked into the room, as if having another person around made her head hurt worse.

“How are you today?” I asked, lingering next to her bed before checking her vitals.

“Oh, you know,” she said, “hanging in there.” She tried to smile and grimaced again.

“What did Dr. Foster say?” I asked. She was Richard’s patient, which was a shame for her, because Richard was a total asshole. He was a good doctor, but a real jerk.

“He’s ordering more tests,” she said. “Although we’ve done everything already. Bloodwork, MRI, everything.”

“There’s always another test.” I sighed a little, adjusted the flow on her IV, and pretended to be busy, while really, I just wanted to make sure she was comfortable. “Dr. Foster’s good. He’ll figure out what’s up.”

“I’m suffering,” she said. “You know what I mean? I’m starting to feel like this thing won’t ever go away.”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” I frowned a little and gave her that look every nurse learned to give—a strange combination of pity and empathy.

“Thanks.” She tried to smile again and managed it.

“Try to rest if you can. Do you need anything? Water or anything?”

“Water would be good.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” I walked out into the hall, got her a big cup with water and ice, then lingered at the nurses’ station.

Dr. Foster really had ordered everything. I’d looked at her chart the last time I checked in on her and saw that he’d done pretty much everything, which suggested he had no clue what was going on with her. I knew doctors pretty well, and when they got to the point of not knowing a damn thing about a patient’s condition, they’d more often than not punt them off on someone else, or send them home with some bullshit diagnosis and some generic prescription.

I didn’t want that to happen to Lynn. She was a sweet girl, maybe a couple years older than me, and I couldn’t imagine living with a chronic headache like that.

I sat down behind the nurses’ station and hovered over the phone. I wanted to call Dean and ask him to come down and give his opinion, but I knew I shouldn’t do it—that would be swerving far out of my lane into inappropriate territory. But I knew that if anyone could help her, it was him, and Dr. Foster would never ask him for help. They were sort of friends, and sort of rivals, and Richard Foster would be much, much too proud to ask Dean for a second opinion.

I cursed to myself, dialed his pager number, and hung up. He’d get the page and come when he could.

I returned to her room, left her some water, made small talk, and as I went back to my station, I spotted Dean lingering in the hall with a mildly confused look on his face. I walked out and waved him down before one of the other nurses or doctors could ask him why he was lurking around.

“I was wondering if it was you,” he said, leaning up against the wall outside of Lynn’s room.

“I was hoping you could help with something.”

“Sure, no problem, but I have to admit, I thought you were making a social call.”

I snorted. “I wouldn’t page you if it weren’t for work.”

“Fair enough.” He glanced toward Lynn’s door. “Is this about the patient in there?”

“Her name’s Lynn, twenty-five, chronic headache.”

“Who’s her doc?”

“Foster.”

He smirked. “That asshole.”

“He’s got no clue what’s going on with her. Hit her with every test imaginable already and still got nothing.”

“You want me to take a look at her chart?” His knowing smile pissed me off and I had to take a breath before I answered.

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

He shrugged. “Anything for my partner in crime.”

I wanted to scream but I forced a smile on my face. He knew how strange it was for a nurse to call in a doctor for a second opinion, and he’d be risking the wrath of Dr. Foster if he went in there and spoke with that girl, so I couldn’t be too angry with him. Even if that cocky smile pissed me off.