The Agreement Read Free

received a fair number of scars. My knees had first
been christened when I tried to pogo stick after he did and fell ingloriously.
Then, there were the stilts… My bottom lip still bore a faint scar where my
teeth went through it.
    After I removed my shoes, one of the heels
having broken when my ankle went over, I had to struggle up to my feet. I
limped in stocking feet into the rear of the building, gasping each time I put
pressure on my injured foot, using the pass code to get inside. I took the
service elevator up to the top floor to my father's apartment. I entered what
was once-upon-a-time the servant's entrance, hoping to sneak into the bathroom
and tend my wounds, find a pair of my stepmother's shoes before facing the
financial elite and asking for handouts for Nigel's charity.
    I hopped down the hall to the bathroom only to
find that Dr. Delish himself was there, on his way out. Dr. Dangerous is at my
father's fundraiser? Doctors Without Borders – made sense but I did not want someone that good looking to be witness to my ineptitude.
    He spied me before I could turn and hop away, my
nylons torn, palms, ankle and knees bloody.
    "You're hurt ," he said and
frowned, coming right to my side, glancing at the heels I held in one hand.
"Those shoes again?"
    "Yes." Of all people to see me, he had
to be the one... "I fell outside in the alley. The heel of my shoe
broke."
    Up close, he was devastatingly handsome, and
when our eyes met, I swear heat rose in my face like mercury in a thermometer.
I had this instant response that my conscious mind had no control over, as if
my body was screaming  Mate with this one. He's got the goods.
    My response was purely animalistic.
    Absolutely  gorgeous, he was tall but
not too tall, about six feet compared to my five foot three. Up close and in
good lighting instead of that in the pub, his hair was almost black, his brows
and eyelashes as well, and his eyes were that blue which reminded me of the
Aegean off the coast of Corfu. Fair skin. A thin layer of whiskers covered his
chin and jaw. A face of such symmetry, it was geometric, all planes and angles
but his mouth – his mouth was soft, his lips full. I could imagine that
mouth on mine, or moving over my skin…
    All of this registered in the merest of seconds
while he adjusted his slate grey silk suit jacket, which was open to reveal a
crisp white linen shirt and grey tie, the fabrics all the best quality. He had
good taste in clothes, and the money to feed it.
    "Here," he said and put his arm under
mine and then he actually picked me up.
    " Whoa ," I said, trying to
resist, hating to be carried by anyone. "You don’t have to pick me
up."
    "Don't worry. You're light as a feather.
You've probably sprained your ankle."
    My hands went around his neck and I was two
inches from his face, my own face hot with embarrassment. He found my parent's
bedroom at the rear of the apartment and placed me on the bed, sitting across
from me. My dress had hiked up, the tops of my sheer black nylons and black
lace garters on display for him to see.
    He raised his eyebrows, his eyes widening. I
quickly drew down my dress to cover them.
    "Oh, I'm sorry…"
    "Don't worry," he said, smiling just a
bit. He placed my injured foot on his lap so he could examine it. "I'm a
doctor."
    I took off my coat, warm from it and his gaze.
"Still, you shouldn't have to see that."
    "Oh, I don't mind." He grinned without
meeting my eye as he moved my ankle back and forth. "I don't mind at all ."
    "Ouch!" I said when he moved my ankle
a bit too far in one direction.
    He glanced up at my face. "That
hurts?"
    I nodded.
    "What about this way?" He twisted it
the other way, gently this time.
    "Not as much."
    He felt around, prodding my foot, my ankle and
the bone above it in my calf.
    "Don't think it's broken. You might as well
take off those nylons. I'll have to treat those lacerations."
    "Oh, yeah," I said, and hesitated. I
waited, and he watched me expectantly.
    " Oh ." He