Claire was soaked through, her fitted dress clinging tightly to her body.
The wet fabric showed every line of her slim, curvy figure.
She shivered, looking almost fragile enough to blow away.
Miles watched her for several seconds, his gaze dark and unreadable. In the end, he said nothing and turned toward the parking lot.
Claire wrapped her arms around herself and bit lightly at her lip.
Miles’s voice came through the rain, cool and distant.
"Follow me."
The disappointment vanished from Claire’s eyes. She hurried after him.
Rain still tapped against the car as Claire settled into the passenger seat.
Miles turned up the heat, then handed her a clean, dry towel.
Claire wrapped it around herself, and warmth finally started to return.
"Thanks," she said softly, then stole a glance at him behind the wheel.
Miles rested one hand on the steering wheel. His shirt was soaked, the collar slightly open and revealing a hint of the hard lines of his chest.
He broke the silence. "Why did you hand me that pin? Weren’t you worried something could go wrong and you’d get blamed?"
Claire blinked, then smiled slightly.
"Of course I was. I’d be crazy not to worry."
Her voice turned soft and sweet. "But I trust you, Dr. Warren."
"You trust me?" Miles repeated. One corner of his mouth lifted with faint self-mockery.
Claire turned toward him and leaned a little closer, her eyes bright with carefully placed admiration.
"Of course. You’re young, but you’re already that good. You must’ve been amazing in college too. Were you one of those people everyone knew?"
She waited for him to take the bait.
Miles only glanced at her. He didn’t answer. Instead, a faint, almost mocking smile touched his mouth.
"Dr. Warren?"
Claire pressed her lips together. She had no idea what nerve she’d hit, so she decided not to push it.
’Isn’t reminiscing about college exactly the kind of thing an old soul like him should love?’
The car entered Regency Gardens, an upscale apartment building near Aethel General Hospital.
Miles parked, and Claire followed him into the elevator. She quietly memorized the floor as the numbers changed above the door.
There were only two apartments on the floor, each sprawling and private, with a wide-open view of the city.
The moment Miles opened his door, Claire caught a clean, cool scent with the faintest trace of antiseptic.
The apartment was all black, white, and gray, with almost no decoration. Everything was spotless. Several pairs of men’s shoes sat neatly by the entry.
Claire gave the place a quick but careful scan.
No women’s shoes. No women’s things anywhere. He really didn’t have a girlfriend.
"The guest bathroom is over there." Miles pointed down the hall.
"Thanks." Claire lowered her voice and nervously gathered the wet fabric of her dress in one hand.
"Dr. Warren, could I borrow something to wear? These wet clothes feel awful."
Miles paused without looking back. "There are clothes in the guest room closet."
Claire went into the guest room and opened the closet. A neat row of clean shirts hung inside.
The thought of showering in Miles’s apartment made her cheeks warm.
She slipped out of the soaked dress, stepped into the bathroom, and took a hot shower.
After drying off, she put on one of his shirts. The fabric was soft, comfortable, and far too big on her.
Wearing the clothes of the man she was trying to win over had to count as progress.
Claire studied herself in the mirror. Her skin was still slightly pink from the hot water, and her long, slim legs showed beneath the shirt.
She deliberately undid the top two buttons, then tugged the collar to one side until part of her collarbone and shoulder were bare.
Sweet enough to look innocent. Sexy enough to make the point.
Claire practiced her expression in the mirror, making her eyes look a little softer, a little wetter, a little more helpless.
Then she opened the door.
Miles had already showered. He stood with his back to her in neat, comfortable clothes.
At the sound behind him, he turned.
Claire stood barefoot on the cold floor, her pale toes curling slightly against it.
Wearing his white shirt, she walked toward him one slow step at a time.
She lifted her arms slightly, her voice soft and sweet with just a hint of helplessness.
"Dr. Warren, your shirt is way too big on me..."
Miles went still for a beat. He said nothing as he slowly stepped closer.
The clean, cool scent of him grew stronger with every step.
Claire held her breath. Her fingertips curled slightly.
’Is he taking the bait?’
Claire’s heart pounded.
Miles stopped directly in front of her and reached out.
Claire pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, suddenly nervous.
She had started this, but this was moving a little faster than she’d expected.
A second later, everything went dark.
Miles had grabbed a jacket from the rack behind her and dropped it over her head, covering her from view.
His voice was cold and firm. "Put it on."
Claire was speechless.
Under the warm glow, she took the hint and slipped the jacket on.
As she raised her arms, the loose shirt underneath slid down a little farther, exposing another strip of smooth, pale skin.
Miles’s gaze flicked over the bare skin at her collarbone. Then he went to the shoe cabinet, took out a new pair of slippers, and set them at her feet.
"They’re men’s. They’ll have to do."
Claire slipped her feet inside. The slippers were dry and warm, and whatever little scheme she had been testing him with disappeared from her mind.
"If you don’t need anything else, get some sleep."
The man in front of her was so cold and stiff that a chatbot probably had more emotional range.
"Thank you, Dr. Warren. Good night."
Claire turned back toward the guest room with her head down, more than a little defeated.
’Such an old man. How is his self-control this good?’
Silence returned to the living room. Along with the faint smell of antiseptic, a soft, sweet scent now lingered in the air.
Claire’s scent.
It seemed to be everywhere, impossible for Miles to ignore.
He frowned, irritated, opened the refrigerator, and drank half a bottle of ice water before the heat inside him finally eased.
Later, he turned off the lights and lay in bed. In the darkness, every sense seemed sharper.
Claire was only one wall away.
The moment he closed his eyes, all he could see was the scene from earlier.
Claire’s voice had been even softer than usual. Those damp, pleading eyes had stared straight at him.
"Dr. Warren, your shirt is way too big on me..."
Then the image changed.
Claire suddenly became bolder. She rose onto her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her body tightly against his.
The soft warmth of her body held him fast.
Miles tried to step back, tried to pull away, but his body refused to listen. He let her come closer. Let her tease him.
Her sweet scent grew stronger as she brushed against his neck and whispered like temptation itself.
"Dr. Warren, I like you."
Their foreheads touched. Their mouths were almost close enough to kiss.
"Dr. Warren... your shirt is way too big on me..."