Doctor Charmer (Doctors of Eastport General)

17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Reggie

H er words nearly break me. He’s doing it right now. She offers my drink back to me, but I don’t trust my shaky hands to hold it. I lean forward, my lips an inch from her ears, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.

“Are you joking right now?” I hear the threat in my tone and realize how close to the truth she’s come. No woman had ever gotten this deep this quick with me in my life. I usually use my charm to disarm them and keep them at a distance.

She pulls back an inch, just enough so we are eye to eye, a glint of something I don’t recognize in her stormy eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“We just met.”

“Still not an answer.”

“You don’t know me.” But she does. She’s gotten me to reveal parts of myself I don’t share with friends I’ve known for years.

“I don’t know Brayton either, but I recognized the look in his eyes. We both did. And you have it too.” I retreat, stepping back to catch my breath. “Tell me I’m wrong?” she challenges me, and my head spins.

Is she just making cocktail conversation, or does she want to have a serious discussion?

“Dr. Morgan,” a strange voice floats over my shoulder, a hard slap across my shoulder. “Wonderful party. We always appreciate you organizing it.” I twist to find Dr. Harrington from Rare Diseases. White hair, over fifty man who I’ve gone to battle with a time or ten. “I’m headed out and just wanted to say good night.”

Dr. Harriman is a political creature. That’s the only reason he has his arm on my shoulder like we’re best buddies. He knows I’m the host of this party. He knows every department head in town is here tonight. He’s putting on a show for them, not me.

I don’t care for office politics. My reputation speaks for itself. So, I have no problems doing what I’m about to do. I shrug out of his clammy hold. “Where is wifey?” I glance over his shoulder, making sure my voice is loud, pulling attention in his direction.

I don’t expect to find her and hope not to find what I’m looking for, but there she is. Sarah Longo, the lab tech mapped to the ER. She’s half his age and continues to ignore every piece of advice I’ve given her. She is standing by the exit, her coat hanging across her arm, chin lowered, a quick look in our direction, obviously looking to leave with the not-so-good doctor.

“You know the drill by now. She visits family in Brazil every holiday season. It’s why I don’t mind working during the season. Just little ole me in that big ole house. Alone.” He emphasizes the last word for anyone who might be listening to our conversation. But I catch the lecherous grin he shoots in Sarah’s direction, making it apparent to anyone who’s paying attention. I fist my hands in order not to ruin the holiday reception for everyone.

“I guess I missed it where Merriam-Webster updated the definition of the word alone .”

His brows pinch in the middle of his forehead, and color races to his neck. His display of anger is wasted on me. I’ve seen it way too many times. Have been the cause many of those times.

His eyes glance toward Ivy standing next to me. His eyes begin a slow perusal, which I halt by stepping in his line of sight. His eyes snap to mine. “I didn’t realize you lived in a glass house, Dr. Morgan. Good night.”

I give him the finger. Not that one but my bare ring finger.

He scoffs and storms away.

I watch as he walks to the exit, Sarah lowering her head as if that will make no one notice her leaving the party with him. Most people don’t.

But I do. I take a step in his direction and halt when a gentle hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me. Her touch is warm, the tingle that races up my arm expected.

“He’s cheating on his wife,” she whispers, a fact that should be obvious to everyone in the hospital but isn’t.

I nod.

“And you’re pissed off about it.” Again, her words come out as statements, not questions. Behind her flirty personality is an observant woman. “Why?”

“Not tonight?” I walk away from her, in desperate need of a drink.

Ivy paces behind me. “Former conquest of yours? Jealous?” She’s throwing darts, I know that. I’m not in the right state of mind to respond. In the ER, I’m all about calm. About being in control. But in Ivy’s presence, it all fades away.

“Is that what you think of me?” I spin to face her, and all I feel in my chest is an intensity I’ve not felt in years. A desperate need for a woman to see the real me.

“As you keep reminding me, I don’t know you.”

I spin and approach the bar. Not trusting my words, I point.

The bartender prepares my drink as Ivy steps next to me. Her gaze matches the intensity of what I’m feeling. She’s not going anywhere.

“Isn’t that what tonight is about? You said you wanted to get to know me better. Don’t you think I want the same?” She tosses my words back at me.

I snatch the drink from the bartender and toss it back. I let the burn of the liquor punish me.

She’s right. Everything she says is one hundred percent true. But it changes nothing right now. I need space and time to take a breath to prevent my stubborn self from chasing Dr. Harriman down and tossing him off this thirtieth-floor balcony.

“Another,” I bark at the bartender, who jumps to my order.

“He’s had enough.” Ivy waves her hand at the bartender. “Cut him off for the night.”

I scoff. “Good luck with that. It’s my party. He works for me.”

The bartender freezes, his gaze bouncing back and forth between us.

Ivy doesn’t hesitate. She steps around the bar, not stopping until she is next to him with his complete attention.

She pops a hip out and places a hand on the front of his shoulder. “Listen”—her tongue peeks out, sweeping across the top of her lower lip, her gaze lowering to the lapel pin on his chest—“Darwin. You’re smart enough to know what happens to bartenders that serve people past their limits.” She leads with the stick, and I brace for her to show the carrot. “How about this? Pass Dr. Morgan one of those bottles of water. And at the end of the night when you’re packing up, wave me over, and I’ll have a drink with you. I’m Ivy, by the way.”

And just like that, I know I’m sidelined for the rest of the night. No man with a pulse could say no to her. Not when she’s like this.

I’m a freaking idiot. The alcohol hits my bloodstream, making me see what I should have seen before. I’m not special. What we have isn’t special. This is what she does. Darwin’s goofy grin is probably a mirror image of the one that was plastered on my face when she walked into this room.

What hurts like hell is that she was telling me the truth. The last time she had someone look at her like she is the center of their world was moments ago. Her words hit me so hard because they were true. But also because I don’t give that look to just anybody.

I take two steps to my left to get a better view of Darwin. His goofy grin has dropped to a wide-open gape as she whispers something I can’t hear over the music. But there is no mistaking the look he gives her.

I guess she’ll have to update her statement once again. To another man who loses their inhibitions around her. Who gives her the look I thought was special. But for her, it’s not special. She collects these looks from men every hour, every day of the week.

It’s been two years since I’ve looked at a woman the way I look at Ivy. If she finds out my truth, she’ll probably roll on the floor laughing. Me, Dr. Charmer, hasn’t been on a date in two years.

For me, it’s taken me two years to give Ivy a look that means the world to me. For her, it only takes two minutes for the next man to give her the same.

Ivy has her back to me; all I see is the bob of Darwin’s head. He agrees to everything she asks. I don’t fault him—every man does the same, present company included.

No more.

I twist on my heels and march toward the exit. I need air.

I ignore the nods and waves of colleagues looking to engage as I make my way toward the doorway. Ten more feet to freedom.

“Dr. Morgan!” I freeze. The one voice in the room that can make me halt. Dr. Riggs, the head of the hospital. Hanging on his arm is my worst nightmare—Louise Derby from HR.

“Dr. Riggs,” I acknowledge him and give Louise a short headshake. She purses her lips with an it’s too late for you now look. “You know the policy here at the mixer: no business.” Neither of us believes a word I say. I established the mixers over a decade ago to allow the staff to connect and get to know one another on a different level, but they are always filled with work conversations.

“Humor me for a moment. Louise here tells me for the third year in a row your department is the last one to sign off on the no-fraternization policy that’s in place to protect the hospital. Why don’t you remedy this right now so we can enjoy the holiday.”

I don’t hide the roll of my eyes. Dr. Riggs doesn’t even call the policy by its right name. It’s not a nonfraternization policy, which would prohibit workplace romance. It’s a fraternization acknowledgement attestation. They sound similar but are a world away from each other. “That sounds awfully like business to me.”

Dr. Riggs chews on the inside of his cheek, a move I’ve seen up close way too often. It’s his tell when he’s seconds away from chewing out a subordinate, and when you are the head of the hospital, that includes everyone in the building. “Just this once, don’t make me…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Most people bend to his will on his first request.

I twist to face Louise. She gives a shit-eating checkmate grin. Movement over her shoulder catches my attention, Ivy approaching holding a bottle of water.

Voices flood my head. You’re nothing special. Do as you are told. Drink what we tell you. Snap to my commands. You have no autonomy. You are your reputation.

“ Yeah, I’m not going to do that. I’m not signing.” I catch Ivy’s brow pinch as she must read my face, my body language. She’s an expert at reading me. She knows. She stops a foot behind Louise, trying to understand what she’s walked in on.

“It’s hospital policy. Legal will have…” Dr. Riggs justifies and pauses as if just remembering his place in the hospital. “You will do this. And you will do this tonight.”

Only one person has ever given Dr. Riggs an ultimatum. That person no longer works at Eastport. I’m playing with fire. I glance at Ivy and realize she hasn’t seen all of me just yet. She’s not experienced the reckless, stubborn, cut-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face version of me. I toss gasoline on the fire.

“There’s nothing you can do to make me sign it.” I back him in the corner, knowing a rattlesnake only has one move. And I’m standing too close to escape.

The lips of his crooked smile shake as he glances over his shoulder. An audience is building around us. All that’s missing is a white-hot spotlight. I’ve given him no choice.

“You’re suspended.” He drops the gauntlet, and I try not to flinch.

The gasp I hear is not my own. Ivy has her hand pressed to her mouth; eyes wide in disbelief.

“Only because of our long history that I don’t fire you for insubordination on the spot,” he rails on, and I know enough to keep quiet. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours. I don’t want to see you on the hospital grounds unless you are here to deliver those signed papers to HR.” He crosses his arms across his broad chest like a prize fighter peacocking at a press conference. “I’ll have Dr. Carmichael cover the ER tomorrow. Go home, Reggie.”

Nothing I say will change this outcome. I knew it the minute I opened my mouth. I turn and push through the crowd, striding toward the exit.

“Reggie!” I hear her voice above the music, above the loud gossipers who don’t have the decency to wait until I exit the room. “Wait up!”

I ignore Ivy. It’s an ass move. Especially since I’m the one who pushed her to come to the party. Especially because I’m the only person she knows in the room. Then I remember Darwin. I remember Ivy is never alone. She’s always a flirty smile away from her next best friend.

Twenty-four hours. That’s how much time Dr. Riggs has given me to fall in line.

I bypass the elevator and open the door to the steps, taking them two at a time. I leap four steps to the landing and laugh out loud. My chuckle echoes off the walls.

It was a mere three days ago I got the alert for the MVC call that brought Ivy into my emergency room. It took less than seventy-two hours for her to kick over the carefully constructed apple cart I’ve kept in front of me to hide my insecurities. I’m exposed. I have no moves left. This isn’t a situation I can charm my way out of.

Twenty-four hours.

If I don’t think of a way to get a man who never backs down to take a step back, my career will be over.

I’ll never sign the HR paperwork. I can’t. I won’t. And that’s one secret I’ll never tell.