Page 2 of Lovesick

The office door with her name on it opened up to a suite and he passed through the outer office to the door that was slightly ajar. He walked in.

“Louise?” The woman lying on the couch was asleep. It was definitely her, the woman he’d seen in photos, the woman Dr. Howard described as his favorite little devil since she was a child. Right now she looked harmless, even forlorn. Not now, Max, he admonished his lonely heartstrings as he sat on the coffee table and reached into his bag for his stethoscope. There was no need to wake her.

With the stethoscope in his ears, he placed the round metal disc on her chest. But even his gingerly movements as he leaned over her, listening, were enough to wake her. Her shriek when she opened her eyes was enough to alert the local fire department.

Meeting her eyes with his, lash for lash, he watched her alarm melt in the brown pools to a seductive heat. He raised his brows.

She said, “You must be Dr. Love.”

His brows might have disappeared off the top of his forehead, if he’d been looking at himself in a mirror. She must be delirious.

She smiled a flirty smile. “I’m Louise Regal and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

A smile slipped to his lips because she was so damn adorable even if she was half out of her mind or maybe half asleep. But he wasn’t prepared when she reached an arm up to wrap it around his neck.

Her heartbeat sped up as he listened, and she pulled his face down to hers. It must have been the surprise that caused his own heart to speed up, matching hers. As she touched her mouth to his and held on with two arms now, he thought, ridiculously, that there was nothing wrong with her heart.

And nothing wrong with her mouth. Or her kiss . . .

But there must be something wrong with him. What the hell was he doing?

Putting his hands on her arms and gently disengaging her hold, he sat up, moving away from her tantalizing taste and scent, until he could think again, remember what he was there for.

“You must have been dreaming, Ms. Regal. I’m Dr. Pendleton. Dr. Maxfield Pendleton. You can call me Max.”

She frowned. He remembered what Dr. Howard had told him. “Or you can call me Doc. Dr. Max is fine too.”

Her frown deepened. He cleared his throat.

“Pendleton? Who?” She sat up on her elbows and all at once her brow cleared and she laughed. “That damn George.”

“George?” He had no idea what was going on, only that there was something he didn’t know about floating around her head and he ought to find out.

“Ms. Regal, what seems to be the problem?”

“Call me Louise. Now that our lips have met, it doesn’t seem right to pretend at formalities, does it?” She sat up and straightened her skirt, a tight black number clad around a pair of shapely thighs and hips. He was thinking this nonsense when she put a hand to her head and closed her eyes.

Ah. The reason he was here. She was sick. He ought to rot in hell for his randy thoughts, but not until he helped the poor woman, did his doctoring.

“What are your symptoms, Louise? Headache?”

She shook her head slowly. “Dizziness.”

“I see.” Time to get serious. He reached into his bag and took out his electronic thermometer and blood pressure cuff. Fastening the cuff, he pumped it up then placed the thermometer in her ear. But not before he pushed the hair at her temple aside and a soft caress of his fingers brushed at the delicate skin there. She shivered, kept her eyes on him. Struggling to keep his focus on business, he read her temp and her blood pressure. Both elevated. That got his attention back on doctoring, where it should be. Her too-bright eyes met his with a question in them.

“Can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Anything you say, Doc.”

He smiled. She’d chosen to call him Doc. He liked it. He liked her smile, her eyes. He heaved a breath and asked the question he had to ask.

“Are you pregnant?”