Page 175 of Wrong Number Right Doctor

My throat tightens.

He stops a few feet away.

“You came out first,” he says. “Very composed. Very professional. Almost convincing. Maggie came out after you with her face flushed, her mouth swollen, and one earring missing.”

Petra makes a soft sound.

I turn my head toward her despite myself.

Mistake.

Alester catches it instantly. “There,” he says. “That was honest.”

“Enough,” I say.

“Not quite.”

I step closer. “Don’t drag her through this because you want to make a point.”

“Oh, I’m not dragging her anywhere. You did that when you walked into that room.”

“She was having a panic attack.”

“And you treated it with your mouth?”

My control nearly snaps.

For a second, I’m back in that blue sitting room with Maggie pressed against the closed door, breathing too hard, eyes wet with fury and humiliation as the party devoured her name outside.

The memory refuses to arrange itself in a way that absolves me.

It was brief. Stupid. Desperate. Her hands in my jacket. My hand at her waist. One sharp, trembling moment where everything we had been pretending not to feel tore through the room and left us both breathless.

“I didn’t take advantage of her,” I say.

The sentence comes out before I can stop it.

Alester’s expression changes.

Barely. But enough to tell me I have just given him more than denial ever would have.

“No,” he says slowly. “I don’t believe you did.”

That surprises me.

It must show, because his mouth curves. “That’s not the issue, Dalton. I’m not accusing you of forcing her. I am accusing you of wanting her.”

The room goes silent.

Petra looks away.

I say nothing.

Alester steps nearer. “And worse than that, I think she wants you too.”

My hands curl at my sides.

“There’s nothing between us.”