Playing Doctor

Chapter Thirty

Through stripping, you can express yourself in a manner you never imagined. Your beauty runs free. It's where an average woman is queen.

-Strip Style: A Guide for Aspiring Exotic Dancers

Standing outside Parkhurst Children's Clinic, I clutched a big grocery bag and stared in the windows. The toys were strewn around in the waiting area, dog-eared magazines lay haphazardly on the tables, and pamphlets were carelessly shoved in their plastic holders.

It was a beautiful sight.

Hand on the door, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my stomach. I was more anxious than I could ever remember being-even on my first day working in the ER. Everything I wanted was beyond this door, and my fate rested on one man.

"I can do this," I told myself. I flipped my hair behind my shoulder and strode through.

Dee looked up from her desk, and her eyes widened. "Daphne. I'm not supposed to let you in here. You've been named public enemy number one."

Wince. "I guess that means he's still angry."

"Angry isn't quite a strong enough word. We've had to send him to his room because his scowl was scaring the kids."

I glanced down the hall toward his office. "So he's here?"

"Yeah." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Listen, Daphne, I don't know what happened, and it's probably not my business, but yesterday he left work happier than I'd ever seen him and in this morning he came in pissed beyond belief. The happy Gray made a better boss. So I hope you're here to make up with him."

Clutching the bag, I nodded. "I am."

"Good. I would have hated to call the cops on you." She jerked her chin toward his office. "Go back."

"Okay." Taking a fortifying breath, I started down the hall.

"Daphne?"

I glanced back at Dee.

"Good luck."

Smiling faintly, I nodded. I was going to need it.

When I got to his door, I lifted my hand to knock, which was the polite thing to do, but then I realized polite wasn't going to get me what I wanted, so I reached for the knob and let myself in.

Gray sat behind his desk, his back to me. He stared out the window, his feet propped on the sill. His hair was disheveled worse than usual, and the way he held his head up showed weariness. Even his Hawaiian shirt looked oddly subdued for its red color.

I ignored the twisting of my heart and cleared my throat. "I have something for you."

His feet dropped and he whirled around. His expression was as hard as it'd been the day before. "What are you doing here?"

Licking my lips, I locked the door and walked to his desk. "I came for you."

His gaze fell to my mouth.

Heartened by the hunger that flared in his eyes, even if it was only for a split second, I set the bag on his desk.

"What is that?"

"A few essential items." I took out a pint of ice cream and set it in front of him.

He frowned at it. "It's not vanilla."

"I'm not a vanilla type of person. You were right about that." I placed the plastic spoon next to it and shrugged out of my coat.

He didn't say anything, but I knew by the way his jaw tightened I had his attention, because of the wraparound dress Mena had loaned me I hoped. It was red and short and revealed a shocking amount of cleavage.