Page 69 of Love Sick

Wed him and bed him! Have his babies!

Whoa. It’s intense, this sudden desire. I must be ovulating or something. Hormones are totally absurd.

This isJulian, I remind myself. Where is this even coming from?

“Isn’t she beautiful, Dr. Santini?” the patient asks.

Julian nods.

Isn’t he beautiful? Look at him. He’s so pretty.

Um. No. False.

Then again…how rude would it be to remove the child from his arms so I can jump in them? His arms seem like a fabulous place to be right now.

Still smiling, he glances up and does a double take when he meets my eyes.

Father my children, please.

God, what is this? Attraction is a fickle, illogical thing. I have to forcibly remember that prettiness doesn’t trump personality.

Though…is his personality really that bad?

Julian and I stare at each other a beat too long, only interrupted when one of the MAs asks to hold the baby. I blink away the nonsensical desire and the flutters in my stomach, then return to my computer.

My body is still humming though, which makes the remainder of our clinic time awkward as hell. I’m not even sure when Asher leaves, but I think I manage a goodbye.

Heading to the sim lab a couple hours later, I’ve put it behind me. Sort of. I’ve come up with a system in which I picture a frozen tundra every time thoughts of Julian arise.

He swipes his card to enter the lab and drags me inside. “You act like I’m taking you to hell.”

“I’ve never liked video games, Julian.”

He snorts. “You practically get off at the sight of flashcards, but dread playing with fake laparoscopic instruments. I’ll never understand you.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. My mysteries are vast and deep.”

“Then you’ll like hell.” He winks and my insides go all shivery. From the ice of the tundra, of course.

Located at the nearby medical school, the sim lab is all white tiles, white walls and white ceiling. Tables around the periphery are set up with surgical models. The robot console fills one corner and the LapSim another. A gurney with a simulation patient is pushed against one wall. The smell of fresh paint lingers in the air.

At the LapSim, Julian punches in his credentials and whizzes through the introductory information like he’s done it a hundred times. The list of courses pops up and his previous scores display to the side.

My mouth drops open. I point at the total laparoscopic hysterectomy module. He has a perfect score.

What the—

“It took me forever to get that score,” he says.

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“It was a bet. Maxwell said I couldn’t do it.”

A grin spreads over my face. “What’d you win?”

The bridge of his nose turns a curious shade of red and he glances at the door. “You remember that first hyst I did by myself as an intern?”

I nod.

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