Noah releases me immediately, and the look on his face tells me he hadn’t realized he was still touching me either, finally managing to actually clear his throat as he steps away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. Car—I mean, Mackenzie.”

“Sure.” I cross my arms across my chest even if only to steady myself. My damn knees are actually weak. What the hell is up with that? Is it an alpha thing? “See you tomorrow, Noah.”

His gaze lingers for a moment before he shakes his head as if clearing a thought and nods curtly to give me his back. A back that makes it hard not to notice how broad it is. And that’s not something I usually notice. I don’t care how broad a guy is. So why is my subconscious doing a creepy mental eyebrow waggle at Noah’s width?

I keep close to the bushes as I watch him retreat to his shiny black Mercedes in the nearby lot, letting him put ample distance between us before I finally allow myself to take an actual breath. The cold air in my lungs on the inhale clears my head, but it doesn’t clear away Noah’s scent that’s still clinging to me. Even with the medicinal quality of his suppressants, it feels strong now that I’ve experienced it up close, and I don’t even pretend to resist the urge to press my nose to my shoulder to breathe in more of it. Something about it makes my skin feel tight, like it’s too small to hold me—that same sensation of running through the snow on all fours pulsing inside for the briefest of moments. It’s pleasant in a way like it was patented and made solely for my benefit—and just thinking this makes me cringe.

Knock it off, Mackenzie. We don’t believe in that uber-compatibility nonsense.

Still, I press my nose to my shoulder for a deeper draw of Noah’s lingering scent.

Yeah, I think. If I were a male I wouldn’t want to be within ten miles of that either.

I blow out a breath, tapping one foot on the ground and then the other to remind my damn knees who’s boss before I head toward my car.

OceanofPDF.com

4

As tired as I was when I left work this morning—I don’t sleep very well. I constantly toss and turn throughout the day, my blackout curtains doing nothing for my restlessness. It’s . . . strange, what touching Mackenzie elicited in me, a reaction unlike anything I can remember experiencing before. But then again, I have spent a good part of my adult life avoiding people to the best of my ability to circumvent situations like the one I’ve found myself in.

I rationalize that it’s because it’s been years since I’ve touched someone so familiarly; that’s why my body had reacted the way it had when I embraced her. That’s all. I can’t pretend that it hasn’t been . . . a long while now since I’ve been intimate with anyone, and even when I had been I have always been careful to avoid scenting them. I know what the potency of my scent might do to someone, and I have done my best to avoid the possibility of a partner beginning to cling to me after experiencing it. Which is probably why it’s been so long since I’ve touched anyone like I touched Mackenzie. It’s just not worth the trouble, given how hard I’ve worked at keeping my status private.

Yes, I think. That’s definitely why I felt so dazed yesterday. The light airiness of her honeysuckle-like scent had simply been a shock to my system, nothing more.

Although none of this explains why I can’t fucking sleep.

By nightfall, my phone ringing at my bedside is the nail in the coffin of my attempts at getting anything close to sleep, and I reach for it blindly as I roll over on my pillow. “Hello?”

“Noah,” a familiar voice says from the other end. “How are you?”

“Paul,” I mumble wearily.

Paul Ackard is about thirty years my senior and, oddly enough, the closest thing I can call to a friend. We still keep in touch fairly often, given the mentor-like relationship we developed during my time working up to the position I hold now. Hell, Paul is the one who put me up for the head of department position when he retired.

I roll my neck, attempting to sit up in bed. “Exhausted, currently.”

“Rough night?”

I laugh dryly. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I might,” Paul answers. “I know someone turned you in.”

My mouth falls open. “How did you hear about that?”

“I worked at that hospital for twenty-five years, Noah,” Paul chuckles. “I have quite a few friends there.”

I blow out a breath. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs, sounding mildly offended. “I recommended you for the position regardless of knowing about your designation. Why would I turn around and blab to the board?”

“Right,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that. It’s just been such a crazy week.”

“I can imagine,” he says kindly. “Which is why I wanted to see how you were dealing with it.”

“Oh, I . . .” I frown, wondering if it’s safe to tell Paul about Mackenzie and our . . . arrangement. I trust Paul, I do, but with everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, I find myself wary of a lot of things. “I’m managing. They’re not going to fire me, at least.”

“That’s good,” Paul sighs. “I didn’t get the whole story. I was worried. Do you have any ideas who might have done this?”

I swing my legs over the bed, stretching. “Not really. There are so few people that know. I can’t fathom who might have figured it out, with the dosage of suppressants I’ve been on.”

“That’s true,” he agrees. “I’m glad that you’re handling it . . . but, still. I worry about it being out there. You know the fuss Dennis put up when you were promoted over him. He’d love to have something like this over you.” He makes a disgruntled sound. “You don’t think he has something to do with the board finding out, do you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t see how he could. We’ve never spoken outside of work, and he has no connection to any of the people in my life that know. Which is an extremely small circle, mind you.”

“True.” Paul is quiet for a moment, considering. “Still. Be careful.”

There’s a guilt pang in my chest over keeping quiet about Mackenzie, but if nothing else, I tell myself it’s for her safety. That helps, but only a little.

“I will,” I assure him. “It’s going to be fine.”

I hope, at least.

“Well, keep me updated,” he urges. “I’m happy to help in any way that I can.”

“I appreciate that,” I say honestly.

“Try not to stress about this. They’d be stupid to let you go regardless of your status. You’re the most brilliant interventional cardiologist that hospital has ever seen. Outside of myself, that is.”

This makes me laugh. “Of course.”

“Talk soon, Noah.”

“All right,” I tell him. “Talk soon.”

I sit at the edge of my bed for a moment after hanging up, blinking wearily out the window near my bed at the setting sun that has nearly disappeared past the horizon. I can officially say that sleep is not going to happen.

It’s well after dark when I decide that a day like today deserves a strong drink, nursing a glass of scotch by the hearth of the woodstove in my living room as I lounge in my favorite chair. It’s been about five minutes since I got a text from Mackenzie, and I’ve spent the entirety of that time reading it more than once as I try to decide what to send back. I’m also trying to remember the last time I sent anyone a text that wasn’t work-related or to my mother.