Page 10 of Blind Date with a #Doctor
“I’m a lawyer. I have research skills.”
“Terrifying.”
“Necessary,” I add.
The line inches forward, but I’m barely aware of it, I can still feel Carter looking at me. I should leave, but I don’t. Instead, I grab my coffee and slide into the seat across from him. Evidently, I have no sense of self-preservation.
Carter doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate. Just leans in slightly, forearms resting on the table, gaze locked on mine like this is exactly where he wanted me.
“So,” he says, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Since we’re in the habit of running into each other, I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“You look like you’re headed to work,” he nods at my briefcase. “It’s Sunday, you know, the weekend?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop watching his mouth. He catches me looking, and his lips twitch like he knows. And damn him, I think he does.
“I have an early case meeting tomorrow,” I say, forcing my attention back to my coffee. “Working on a Sunday is normal, but I’m not obligated. I can take the whole weekend off if I have something to do.”
“Like getting coffee and flirting?”
I nearly choke.
Carter grins.
I narrow my eyes. “Like running errands.”
“Mm.” He nods. “Sure.”
I groan, but I don’t correct him, mostly because I don’t want to lie.
He studies me for a second, long enough to make my skin feel too warm. Then, casually, he asks, “You always work a lot?”
“Not always.” I hesitate. Then I tell him the truth. “I used to be worse about it,” I admit, swirling my coffee absently. “Back when I was trying to prove myself as a junior associate. It’s a hard habit to break, I guess.”
Carter doesn’t blink. “Still proving yourself to someone?”
for the first time since sitting down, I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t thought about it. Not like that.
Carter just watches me, waiting, not pushing. I like that he wants the real answer. I clear my throat, forcing a smirk. “You’re good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Getting people to open up.”
He smirks right back. “Occupational hazard.”
“Do your patients enjoy the interrogation?”
Carter’s eyes flick to my lips, quick and subtle, but I see it.
“Usually,” he murmurs. My stomach tightens thinking about him interrogating me without a shirt on. I glance away, pretending to check my phone, pretending like I’m not seconds away from kissing him right here in public like some reckless idiot.
I swear I see his lips twitch like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Well,” I say, standing quickly, before I do something insane. “This has been a very insightful therapy session. I should probably pay you.”
Carter leans back in his chair, gaze still warm, still too much. “I’ll bill you later.”
