The Hardest Hit (6 page)

Two days passed and Trevor kept the nausea at bay. He hadn't vomited since the episode by the tree, and since he'd been able to keep his shit under control, Domenic's concern for him had also cooled. His life was slowly getting back to his new normal. If he trained too hard, skipped a meal, or didn't get a full eight hours of sleep, more issues arose during the day, like headaches, blurred vision, nausea, or finding himself off balance when he walked.

It was hard not to get cynical, because even on the days he felt better, other things started to bother him, like reading the tiny print on his cell phone screen, or the flashing colors and movement from video games. Needless to say, he hadn't played much Call of Duty lately and his online teammates blamed his absence on his fight training, which was fine with him.

He'd just completed his morning run and was headed into Stamina when his trainer met him at the doorway.

“Just in time.” Daniella greeted him with a smile. “I was hoping I'd catch you before you ran into the locker room.”

Trevor slowed into a jog. “Sure, what's up?”

Daniella rubbed her hand over her pregnant belly protectively. “Just some pre-fight paperwork and an exam.”

He felt his facial muscles tense. “Exam?” He laughed. “Like a test?”

She returned his laughter. “No. Your physical exam. It's routine, nothing to worry about. You just have to be cleared to fight.”

His insides stirred. Nothing about him was routine. Even though he felt good today, the best he had all week, he hoped whoever poked and prodded him wouldn't see what he worked so hard to hide.

“No problem.” He tried to play the news of an exam off with easy confidence.

“Great. I've cleared the locker room so that your examination can take place there. Just go on in, and the doctor is waiting for you.” Daniella smiled.

He nodded at Daniella's instruction. What was the most he'd have to do? Pee in a cup? Maybe the doctor would listen to his breathing, sign a form, and call it good. What could a doctor really tell from a locker room exam?

He breezed inside the room until she stopped him in his tracks. “What are you doing here?”

God, he hadn't seen Dr. Fox since the day he marched out of her office, and he'd been fairly certain he'd never see her again. But there she was. Standing in his locker room, dressed in tight black pants and a button-down shirt he wanted so desperately to undo.

With his teeth.

By the scowl on her face, he knew, she wasn't as happy to see him as he was her.

“You are unbelievable,” she said through gritted teeth.

He flashed a boyish smile, trying to rebuff just how badly busted he was. “Glad to see you finally came around. Had second thoughts about that date?”

Her expression flattened. “You're not funny. When Daniella called and asked me to come over to perform a pre-fight exam for one of her boxers, I readily agreed. I had no idea who it was until I got here. And when I found out it was you, well, you can imagine I had to see for myself how blatantly you disregarded my orders.”

“Oooh, orders.” His voice smoothed like silk. “You can order me around all you want, sweetheart.”

Her face reddened. Narrowing her blue eyes, she let out a tiny huff.

He could tell she was ready to explode.

“Don't you care about yourself at all?” Her nostrils flared.

He shrugged.

“I simply can't believe this.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Pigheaded. Why are men so pigheaded!”

He dropped down on a bench in front of his locker. “Maybe we're not.”

“Pffft,” she said. “Name one who isn't.”

“Maybe all I want is to realize my dream and whatever happens, happens.”

She rolled her eyes. “That's the dumbest and most irresponsible thing I've ever heard.”

“Is it?” He turned his body toward her.

For a moment, he thought she was going to outstretch her hands and wrap them around his neck to strangle him. Instead, they landed on his shoulders as she faced him and said, “Do you have any idea what you could be facing down the road? Athletes who have suffered severe blows to the head can succumb to conditions like depression and memory loss, and depletion of muscular function, deafness, and tremors. And usually those athletes are seeing these things happen in their bodies eight to ten years
after
they retire. You are seeing them now.”

“So what are you saying?”

Her blue eyes met his. “I'm saying that it's not worth it. I'm saying you're a young, funny, ridiculously handsome man and you don't need to suffer like this.”

He took a moment and considered her words. “What if someone told you that you couldn't be a doctor anymore?”

“I know this is hard for you.” Her voice softened.

He pursed his lips. “No. You don't. Because you can't fathom not being what you are. You can't imagine what it feels like to have someone hold you back from what you love.” He raised his hand to keep her from saying another word. “If I quit and walk out now, what have I got? A job at a strip club? Maybe I can become the janitor at Stamina, if I'm lucky.”

“Don't talk like that.” Deep lines formed on her forehead, right between her eyebrows.

“I'm serious.”

She held his gaze. “So am I.” Pulling back from him, she stood up and paced the locker room. “We have to postpone the fight. There's no way I'm signing off on something that could kill you.”

He bowed his head. Then in the same instance, he perked up. She said
postpone
, not
cancel
. Maybe she thought this was only a brief delay.

His stomach tensed. He felt a wave of disappointment surge through his body. Sitting there in the moment, he knew the news was going to come out sooner or later. If Domenic hadn't ratted him out to Daniella, Shakes would have put two and two together and figured out why he kept switching up his daily routine. There wasn't any consistency in his fight plan because he had to keep mixing it up to offset whatever problem he was having that day. No running if he woke up with nausea. No weightlifting if he felt dizzy. Shakes had already complained once or twice that his workouts weren't balanced and that it would affect him in the ring.

And the last thing he wanted was to take on Dion Nash and lose.

“What do you want me to do?” An uneasy feeling ran through his gut. In the battle of wills with Chelsea he wasn't going to come out victorious. He had to give up, stop fighting her, and resign himself to getting better. It would be the only way she'd allow him to fight.

“Agree to a postponement. That's step one,” she said.

His mouth flattened to a straight line, and he paused. This wasn't going to go over well with Daniella. He'd already signed the contract. The fight was on. Promotion and ticket sales were in the works. Sponsors were secured. His posture slumped. “For how long?”

“We'll start with a month. Maybe two.”

Heat penetrated his body, his temper rose to a boiling point. “A month? No fucking way.”

She propped a hand on her hip. “Then I'm done here. I'm not clearing you to fight, and I'm letting Daniella know that no other doctor will clear you, either. You need rest and routine monitoring.”

Her words hit him way below the belt. She was playing hardball, and he didn't have much choice except to play along. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Okay,” he said, defeat marking his tone. “You win. We can postpone the fight, and I'll do whatever you want on one condition.”

“What's that?” Her tone sounded challenging.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a sly grin. “I want you to monitor me personally.”

Heat flooded her face. She knew she shouldn't crack a smile. Now wasn't the time for smiling and letting him know that she'd condone even an inch of what he'd done. He put his health at risk. One hit too hard and he'd land himself on an operating table or worse. Yet, the corner of her mouth hiked up. Any resentment she had toward him melted. He affected her like that.

“I couldn't possibly monitor you personally. I have hundreds of patients who require my attention.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I require a lot of your attention,” he said flatly.

She huffed. “No. You don't require my attention, you demand it. There's a difference.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Is that a bad thing? Shoot down my offer, that's fine, but if my prognosis doesn't improve, who do you think Daniella is going to blame, you or me?”

A fire lit inside her. Oh. He pulled the friend card, did he? It was amazing to know he'd go that far and throw her under the bus to Daniella to get what he wanted. “Persistent, aren't you?”

He flashed those bedroom eyes at her. The ones she remembered from the kiss at the hospital. Those eyes penetrated. Called to her. Those soft brown beauties showed up in her dreams. It was as if that magnetic connection reached into her soul and drew her to him.

“I'm very persistent when I know what I want.” He stood up from the bench and took one step toward her. Then another. He stood so close that she smelled the musky scent radiating off his skin. The primal odor sent a wave of need pouring through her. A need she had to resist.

“I just don't . . .”

He took another step toward her, so close they were almost touching. The heat pulled at her core. He placed his hands on her arms and caressed her; any tighter and it would have been a hug. The promise of personal contact eroded any objection she had. “I want you to help me get back in the ring. No one else. Just you.”

“It's going to take a lot of work.”

His hand moved up and down her arm. “I'm not afraid.”

“It's going to take a lot of your cooperation.” She gazed into his eyes. He wasn't the most agreeable. He had yet to listen to anything she'd said. In fact, he'd downright blown off all of her instructions.

“I'll do whatever you say.”

“You have to understand; I have a lot of patients who need me. They demand my time, too. So, if I give you something to work on I expect it will get done. I can't fret over you like a worried mother.”

He shot her a stern glance. “I don't need a mother. I need a doctor. A beautiful, sexy, brainy, doctor.”

She bit her lip. She knew being around him was going to take a lot of restraint, like the kind she was calling on now, the stuff that came from way down deep and kept her emotions in check. She bit her lip harder, but she didn't feel the pain. The slight twinge was a reminder that there'd be more repercussions than teeth marks on her lip if she acted on her feelings.

Doctors were cautioned not to have relationships with patients outside the office. She was in a position of power over him. Anything that happened could be held against her. She could lose her license if things went bad. There was simply too much to risk. But imagine the reward.

She shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind.

“Does that shake of your head mean we don't have a deal?”

She lifted her hand to her mouth. “No. I mean, yes. We have a deal.”

“Good.”

He held her gaze, and for a moment she thought he was going to lean down and kiss her, but he didn't. Trevor released his grip on her arms and let her go. He must've known, like she did, that they were going to have to separate their needs from their desires.

He needed to get well. She needed to be the one to see that he got better. She had a vested interest in his progress. This kind of injury occurring in someone so young was rare. She knew that if he improved and she documented his treatments, his case would be the kind of information medical journals craved. She could do so much good for so many people, and advance the science that was on the fast track for learning more and more about head injuries.

She took a step back from him. “I'll deliver the news to Daniella. I'll also let her know that you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

“I don't think she'll mind.”

Chelsea nodded. “I'll be by your house later tonight. I need to check out your bedroom.”

His eyes widened. “I like the sound of that.” Then, he flashed that killer grin.

Air left her lungs. “You're so funny. It's not what you think. After a traumatic head injury eighty percent of patients report having difficulties with sleep. I want to ensure your bedroom is set up for the best sleep possible. Remove electronics. No bright video screens. Good sleep is the first step in proper healing.”

“I'd get awesome sleep if you'd stay the night,” he responded in a low, sexy growl. “Who am I kidding, there's no way we'd get any sleep.”

She didn't let down her guard.
Remain professional
, she told herself. One crack of a smile and he'd know how much she'd like to accept his offer. “Sleep, we're talking about sleep. You. Alone. In bed for a full eight hours.”

His smile broadened. “See. I've already got you talking me into bed.”

She shook her head as he walked toward the door.

“So, yeah, it's a date. Eleven o'clock tonight. My bedroom. Clothing is optional, right?”

She let out a sigh, and watched him leave the room. She had to give him credit. He had told her from the get-go and he was right. The man was never giving up.

Chelsea stood on Trevor's doorstep and checked her watch: eleven o'clock. She lifted her hand to knock and part of her felt a little foolish. While she knew she was here to assist a patient with his health and wellness, part of her couldn't help but imagine what else her visit might look like; a late-night booty call.

Knocking only once, Trevor answered. He pulled the door open and she swallowed hard. He stood in front of her, wearing
Star Wars
–themed pajama bottoms and no shirt. She allowed her eyes to drop to his chest and graze over each taut muscle. Good God, the man was in shape. He sported eight-pack abs and each so well defined that if she were someone else she'd long to touch them. With her tongue.

She'd waited too long to say anything. Heavens! Could her infatuation with him be any more obvious?

After another beat, Trevor said, “Come on in.”

“Sorry I'm late,” she said, crossing the threshold. “Heavy traffic.” Sure it was. It was easy to blame the cars on I-15. Vegas highways were always crowded. She didn't dare tell him the real truth behind her tardiness. She'd stood in front of her closet way longer than she should have, picking out the right outfit. Eventually, she'd chosen tight white jeans and a white baby doll–style top. She hoped the color association would keep things professional. Usually Trevor saw her wearing a white lab coat. Also, white was a virginal color. Not that she was one, but it sent a different kind of message than if she'd shown up wearing all black.

“Nice place you have here,” she said, interrupting the silence, and she meant every word. Most guys, especially one as carefree as Trevor didn't keep their bachelor pads as clean as he did his.

“Thanks.” He directed her toward the sofa. “Care to sit down?”

She smiled. “I'm good. We should probably make our way to the bedroom.”

The grin spread wide across his face. “I like the sound of that.”

She closed her eyes, just for a moment.
Maintain composure
, she told herself. Then she opened her eyes and followed him down a short hallway.

Her eyes locked on his ass. His loose-fitting pajama bottoms hugged his ass just enough that she could tell his backside was as tight as his front. The man was in peak physical shape, at least where his muscles were concerned. And she knew if she were going to get through the night without winding up in his bed, she had to keep looking at him as a patient that needed her help instead of a man she wished she could fuck.

Entering the room, he turned on the light. “Here it is. Is everything up to your standard, doc?”

She felt her face squish up. “Mmm, not exactly.” Placing her hands on her hips, she took a moment and surveyed Trevor's bedroom. “Would you say you get eight hours of solid sleep a night?”

“I don't know. I've never really timed it. I get tired, I go to bed.”

“Do you sleep through the night?”

He looked at her with those sexy brown eyes. “Depends on who's with me.”

She giggled like a high schooler. “Seriously. Do you wake up at night and find it hard to go back to sleep?”

He kept his gaze planted on her. “I find it hard.”

She swallowed the lump that built in her throat. “Okay, then. The first thing we need to do is set your bedroom up so that the only thing happening in here is sleep and sex.”

“Great.” He smiled. “I vote for the latter.”

She shook her head, started to walk toward his dresser, and pointed to the television sitting on top. “This has to go.”

“My T.V.?” Lines of confusion marred his face. He looked like she'd slipped one past him and hit him below the belt.

“Yes. You have to limit your screen time. Experts recommend no television or computers at least two hours before bed for optimal sleep, and no television in the bedroom.”

His face took on the expression of a scolded child, and his shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

She glanced around the room. “Is it normally this stuffy in here?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I've never noticed.”

“It's Vegas. The desert nights can be cooler, but on the nights where the temps are too high to open a window, I recommend getting a small fan to circulate the air. Plus, the low hum of noise can lull you into sleep.”

He gave an agreeable nod. “Or you could come over every night and tuck me in.”

“Very funny.” She inspected the rest of the room, even going so far as to place her hand on his bed and run her fingers over the sheets. “Nice. Comfortable. What's this?”

“A sheet,” he answered, confused.

She laughed. “No silly, what kind of sheet? This is awesome.”

“Oh,” he said, presumably catching on. “Bamboo.”

“Wow. Soft.” She allowed her fingers to brush against the fabric longer than she should have.

His gaze focused on the spot where she touched the sheet. “Just another reason for you to stay over.”

She let go. “Maybe you can tell me where you bought them and I can get my own set?”

He playfully shook his head. “Nope. If you want the sheets, you have to stay here. And I guarantee, what you'll find between the sheets is just as nice.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” She bit her lip and exited the room. This was a bad idea. Coming here was like walking into a lion's den, only she didn't feel trapped and she didn't want to leave.

“Don't go,” he called after her. “I'm sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable. I'll stop.”

Once they were back in the living room, a sense of ease washed through her. The man definitely kept her off balance.

“Have a seat.” He gestured toward the sofa. “Please stay.”

She rolled her wrist and checked her watch. “I should really go.”

A look of disappointment flashed across his face. God, he was handsome. Strong jawline. Killer smile. Shit. When he smiled just enough she saw dimples in his cheeks. Ugh. How in the world did she think she could not want to sleep with him? But with all guys there had to be more than the physical, and wasn't that where her relationship with Ben had died? Once they'd gotten past the sex, they were really two different people with nothing in common other than they were both doctors. Certainly with a guy like Trevor who lived in a totally different world than she did, this had to be the case. Or maybe not.

With a lift of her shoulder she said, “I guess I could stay for a bit.”

His face brightened, but she didn't let the look affect her. She moved around to the sofa and sat.

Trevor met her on the couch and sat beside her but kept his distance.

She glanced at the pile of stuff sitting atop his coffee table. “I see you've been shopping.”

There it was. All the things she'd recommended a week earlier. The stuff he'd laughed at. A book of crossword puzzles, trivia, and memory games.

“I said I'd do whatever you asked, and I meant it. Well, everything except the coloring book. I have a reputation to uphold.”

She laughed. “Hey, tough guys color.”

“Sure they do.”

Still giggling, she relaxed and eased into her seat. “There's something else that has to change, too.”

His eyebrows hiked up his forehead. “My refrigerator is there for your inspection, but I can guarantee Daniella's already gone through it. My diet is under her control.”

“It's not about your fridge. It's about the flirting,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Air left his lungs in a rush. “I told you that I'm . . .”

She lifted a hand, stopping him. “I want to be totally honest with you.”

He looked terrified, as if he'd unintentionally offended her.

“I find you extremely hard to resist,” she said.

“I knew it!” He smiled.

She gave a distinctive eye roll and continued. “Having a relationship of a sexual nature while you're my patient, well, a situation like that is something that can cause me to lose my medical license. And I'm not going to lie to you. I can't sit here and pretend I'm not attracted to you; I am. But my job is standing in the way.”

He frowned. “Then, release me. Let's see where this thing goes.”

She shook her head. “No. I know where it will go. It'll go the way they all go. Hot, sweaty, and sexy at first until the newness wears off and we discover we have nothing in common. Nothing to talk about and then it's over. Maybe we'll part as friends, maybe we won't. But you'll lose the opportunity of having one of the best physicians in Las Vegas get you back into the ring, and I'll lose the chance to help you and advance the science of healing head trauma.”

His frown deepened. “So, I'm just a case to you. Something you can publish in a fancy medical journal.”

She stretched out her arm, and covered his hand with hers. “No. Don't think like that. We're a team. All I've ever wanted to do was help people.”

Trevor removed his hand out from under hers and kicked back in his seat. “So, where do we go from here?”

“We put our combined focus on your getting well, and if we're lucky, we'll wind up getting you back in the ring earlier than anticipated.” She stretched out her hand to him. “Deal?”

He placed his hand in hers. “Deal.”