"Holy shit!"
"Seriously?"
"This girl is wild."
The whole booth burst into laughter. People doubled over and leaned against each other, barely able to breathe.
Even Claire couldn’t help smiling.
Beside her, Miles stayed expressionless. Then he abruptly stood.
"Keep going. I’m going to the restroom."
Claire watched him walk away, and her smile slowly faded.
’Is he mad? Isn’t that reaction a little much?’
A vague possibility flashed through her mind.
’Could that letter be from the woman he never got over?’
The second Miles was gone, Jonathan leaned in for the gossip.
"Ms. Kendall, I’ve got to ask. Are you trying to win Dr. Warren over?"
"Yes." Claire admitted it without a hint of embarrassment. "So do any of you know what kind of woman he likes?"
Everyone looked at one another. None of them had ever seen Miles with a woman.
Jonathan thumped his chest. "Don’t worry. We’ll help you out. Consider us your wingmen."
The group joked around for a while longer, but Miles still didn’t come back.
Claire stood. "Excuse me. I need to use the restroom too."
A moment later, Claire found Miles at the sinks outside the restrooms.
Water ran over his hands as he leaned slightly over the sink, washing them at an unhurried pace. Droplets slid down his long, defined fingers and caught the dim light. Even that was annoyingly good-looking.
Claire walked over.
The moment Miles turned, she stepped straight into him.
She gasped and grabbed his shirt. For one brief second, her warm, soft body pressed fully against his.
"Sorry, Dr. Warren. I lost my balance."
Claire tipped her face up. Her eyes held just the right amount of panic and helplessness, and her voice came out soft and sweet.
She kept hold of his shirt. Her fingers curled lightly against the fabric once, then again.
She was testing him.
It was a cheap trick, but she didn’t care as long as it worked.
Instead, Miles’s gaze turned even colder. He caught her wrist without hesitation. His grip wasn’t hard, but it was firm as he pushed her away.
The space between them opened at once.
"Having fun, Ms. Kendall?" Miles’s voice was flat and calm, impossible to read.
Claire’s stomach dropped anyway. She barely kept her smile in place. "What do you mean?"
Miles lowered his gaze and looked at her with cold, cutting eyes.
"You had a King of Spades ready, didn’t you?"
Claire froze. The color drained slightly from her face.
’He’s seen it.’
Her lips parted, but for once, she couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough.
The chill in Miles’s eyes deepened. "I stepped in because Yvonne crossed a line. I won’t let her use the Warren name to bully people."
Then he turned and walked away.
Claire stood there for a beat.
So much for an easy conquest. Miles really was hard to get close to.
He might never have dated anyone, but he was no clueless kid.
Of course. The heir to Aethel’s Warren family was never going to be an idiot.
Claire looked at herself in the mirror and slowly reapplied her lipstick.
’So what if he saw the King of Spades? He still stepped in to help me.’
For Claire, the method didn’t matter. The result did.
By the time she returned to the booth, her calm expression was back in place.
She just chose a different empty seat instead of sitting beside Miles again.
A little later, Miles stood. "It’s late. You guys have fun."
That was all he said before he left.
Jonathan didn’t even blink. "Ignore him. He has the sleep schedule of a seventy-year-old. He never stays out late."
Claire watched Miles walk away, then stood with a bright smile.
"It really is late. Thanks for tonight, birthday boy. We’ll do this again sometime. I’m heading out too."
She quickened her pace and followed Miles outside.
It was pouring by the time Claire stepped out of the bar.
Miles hadn’t brought an umbrella. He slowed at the entrance and stared out at the rain.
Claire pulled a folding umbrella from her bag and hurried after him.
On the sidewalk, an older man suddenly groaned, grabbed his chest, and collapsed. His face was turning blue.
"Someone collapsed!"
"Call 911!"
People stopped in alarm, but everyone kept several feet away. No one dared move closer.
An older man. Heavy rain. A sudden medical emergency.
Put those together, and most people decided it was safer not to get involved.
"Move."
The single command cut through the crowd.
Miles rushed to the man’s side and dropped to one knee. His expensive suit pants were soaked through with muddy rainwater almost instantly.
He switched on his phone flashlight, checked the man’s pupils, felt for a carotid pulse, then opened the front of his shirt.
He spoke fast, all business. "Tension pneumothorax. He needs immediate needle decompression."
Then he looked up at the crowd. "Does anyone have something sharp? A pen, a hairpin, anything. Now."
The crowd went silent. A few people even backed away.
The situation looked too serious. No one wanted to hand something over and risk being blamed if it went wrong.
"Anyone?" Miles raised his voice, urgency finally breaking through his usual calm. "Please. I need something sharp."
"I do!"
Claire rushed over and pulled a long silver styling pin from her hair. It came from her studio and was normally used for detailed finishing work. She often used it to pin up her hair.
"Dr. Warren, will this work?"
Miles took it. His fingers brushed Claire’s icy fingertips, and he paused for the briefest moment. Then he borrowed a lighter and quickly sterilized the pin as best he could.
Miles looked at Claire. "Hold him still. Don’t let him move."
"Okay." Claire knelt in the rain and braced the man in place. Her hands trembled slightly.
Miles found the spot between the man’s ribs. His hand was fast, precise, and steady as he drove the pin in.
A faint hiss of escaping air followed.
The trapped pressure released from the man’s chest, and the blue tint in his face slowly began to fade.
Cheers broke out around them.
"He’s alive!"
"That was incredible."
"He has to be a doctor. Did you see that?"
Miles held the pin in place so it wouldn’t shift while checking the man’s pulse with his other hand.
Claire immediately opened her umbrella and held it over Miles and the patient.
She stayed outside its cover herself, letting the heavy rain soak her through.
An ambulance siren grew louder, and paramedics rushed over with a stretcher.
One of them stopped short. "Dr. Warren?"
Miles nodded, carefully released the patient, and gave the paramedics a quick handoff.
"He was short of breath before he collapsed. Pay close attention to his lungs."
The paramedic nodded repeatedly, looking at Miles with obvious respect.
The old man had gotten unbelievably lucky. If Miles hadn’t been there, an emergency this severe could easily have killed him.
Only after the man was loaded into the ambulance did Miles stand.
Claire was still in the rain. Her soaked clothes clung to her body, outlining her slim curves, and the arm holding the umbrella shook from the cold.
Miles stepped over, took the umbrella from her trembling hand, and held it above her instead.
"Your pin went with the ambulance. How much did it cost? I’ll send you the money."
Claire shook her head. "Don’t worry about it. It helped save someone’s life. Besides, I still owe you 100,000 dollars."
She searched through her bag, then spoke in a low, troubled voice. "But, Dr. Warren... my phone died, and I think I dropped my keys when I ran over here."
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
"Address." Miles’s voice was cool and distant. "I’ll take you home and have your building manager let you in."
Claire reacted instantly. Her expression turned even more troubled, and her fingers twisted together.
"It’s an old rental. There’s no building manager, and it’s too late to find a locksmith."
She looked up at him through rain-wet lashes, embarrassed and quietly pleading.
"Dr. Warren, I’m freezing. Could I use your shower and sleep on your couch tonight? I can’t exactly walk into a hotel looking like this."