He tugged affectionately on a strand of her hair. “We’ve always been close.”

“No. Actually, we’ve remained such good friends because we aren’t too close, right?”

He lifted a shoulder in acknowledgment of that. “Fine. But one thing we have always been with each other, is honest. Brutally so.”

“True.”

“So.” He offered her a half smile. “Be honest now. You slept with him. You slept with him and instead of being done as you usually are, you want more.”

She stared at him, stunned at that quick and horrifyingly accurate assessment. “Yes.”

“Well that sucks.” He let out a breath and turned away so she couldn’t see his eyes. “I’m hungry. I don’t suppose you cooked?” He sighed again at the empty kitchen. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

“Spence-”

“It’s okay, Emma. I’m a big boy and I asked.” At the unexpected knock on the door, he moved toward it. “Hey, maybe it’s a miraculous Thai food delivery from heaven.”

Instead, it was Serena, wrapped in a wind breaker and a black mini skirt. “I’m looking for the doc,” she said to Spence. “Is she here?”

Emma moved into view. “Right here, Serena. Is there something wrong?”

“Well, I guess you could say it’s that I wasn’t the dweeb and didn’t waste the best years of my life in medical school like you did.”

Spencer leaned against the doorjamb, amused. “So you’re a close friend of Emma’s then.”

Serena sighed, closing her eyes. “Dammit. Was that snippy, because I was actually going for nice. I’m not very good at it.” She opened her eyes, which were just a little glazed over. “I’ll stick with my bitchy self. I need a doc, Sexy Man. So move out of my way.”

Spencer didn’t. “I’m a doctor, too.”

“Wow, God really gave with both hands when it came to you, didn’t he.” She narrowed her eyes as she took him in. “Quick, what are your faults?”

“I leave the toilet seat up and don’t bother with the cap on the toothpaste.”

“Sharp wits, too. Very nice. How are you with the bedside manner?”

He grinned. “Better than Emma.”

From behind him, Emma rolled her eyes, but Serena laughed. “And confident. Okay, I pick you.”

Spencer looked intrigued. “For…?”

She pulled her hands from beneath her coat. One was cradling the other, wrapped in a towel.

Spence immediately reached for her. “What happened?”

“A new knife and a stubborn piece of chocolate.”

Emma grabbed her keys for downstairs. “Let’s go take a look.”

“No, I pick Dr. McHottie,” Serena said.

“Sorry. I’m the doctor on call,” Emma told her lightly, trying to save Spencer. At the very least, Serena would walk all over him. At the most, she’d eat him up and spit him out.

But Spencer smiled. “I’d love to earn my keep. I’ll be happy to take this one.”

Emma swiveled to look at him. “Earn your keep?”

“Seeing as you’ve put up with me all week.” He slid an arm around Serena’s waist and guided her down the stairs as if she was an invalid.

Not that Serena seemed to mind.

Emma followed. Earn his keep, her ass. Inside the clinic, she flipped on the lights and prepared a tray, but when she moved to wash her hands, Spencer was already ahead of her, washed up and unwrapping Serena’s hand to examine it. “Ouch,” he murmured sympathetically.

“Yeah.” Serena held her breath as he touched. “Bad?”

“No.” He smiled into her face. “Just a couple of stitches. Probably only two.”

“Oh boy.” Serena nibbled on her lower lip. “I don’t like needles.”

Must be a Wishful thing, Emma thought, and opened her mouth to say something, like consider it Karma with a capital K, but Spencer spoke first.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” he told Serena. “I’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Really?” Serena’s eyes locked on his. “Can you do that?”

“I specialize in it.” He glanced at Emma with the unspoken question, and with a shrug, she gestured him to go ahead.

The bedside manner he’d mentioned didn’t escape her notice. He was good at that, making a patient forget their pain, putting them at ease. He could read a person like no other, and know what they needed in any given moment.

In Serena’s case, a little harmless flirting had taken her mind off her pain, and Serena would never forget him. As Emma brought him the tray with everything he’d need, she thought of her last needle-phobic patient.

She’d treated Stone to a textbook T. Yep. She’d fixed up his body and he’d heal quickly and wouldn’t scar.

But she’d ignored his other needs.

As much as she hated to admit being second best at anything, her very lack of “bedside manner” is what made Spencer a better doctor than her.

She watched him continue to keep Serena at ease and wished she’d learned the art of it. Why hadn’t she?

Because she was focused.

Because she tended to be concerned first and foremost with a patient’s physical well-being.

In Stone’s case, because she’d been unnerved by him and her reaction to him.

There.

That was the bottom line, the truth.

And it shamed her. She’d always prided herself on being the best she could be, on giving the best care she could, and in doing so, she’d actually concentrated on herself more than her patients.

By now, Spencer had Serena leaned back and was making her comfortable, distracting her with an easy smile and quiet voice.

“So are you Emma’s?” Serena asked him.

“Nah,” Spence said easily. “She wouldn’t have me.”

“She always was shortsighted.”

Spence grinned.

“We’re just friends,” Emma said a little tightly. “Though sometimes I wonder why…”

Spencer kept on grinning, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Are you from New York, too?” Serena asked him.

“Yep. Dr. Spencer Jenks, but any friend of Emma’s can call me Spence.”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” Serena told him, still studying his face. “I used to torture her in first grade. But I did try to make it up with brownies the other day. Double fudge, warm, soft, out-of-this-world brownies…”

Spencer groaned appreciatively. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Serena smiled. “I have a fresh batch…I could share.”

“I like the sound of that,” Spence assured her. He had the syringe in his hand, low at his hip where Serena couldn’t see.

Emma had always scoffed at that practice. In her opinion, assuming the patient wasn’t a kid, she believed they wanted things upfront and honest.

“What else do you make?” he asked Serena.

“Name it.”

“Really? God, I love a woman with talent in the kitchen.”

Serena smiled. “Honey, I’ve got talents in every room of the house, trust me.”

He laughed again, clearly enjoying the unmistakable hum of attraction between them. “Not fair,” he said. “I hiked all day and I’m starving. Tell me what you have in your front case,” he directed, “and I’ll pretend it’s right here in front of me.”

“Oh, you should see today’s pies.” Serena’s eyes were closed and she smiled dreamily. “I love pies. They’re my specialty.” Her lips curved. “Amongst other things, of course.”

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