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room.” 
    Was he supposed to just sit down? She wasn’t going to take his blood pressure or his weight or anything? He tugged at the laces on his work boots, all he really ever wore anymore. At least he didn’t have feet like Chief Barger—that smell could kill a possum half a mile away. 
    “Right there’s perfect.” She pulled out a rolling stool from under a counter and placed it next to his recliner. “Go ahead and tilt it back.” Now she stood at the shelves on the north wall. “I want you to make yourself as comfortable as possible.” 
    “Because this is going to hurt, huh?” 
    She took a folded white towel and a peach-colored blanket from a shelf. “Are you scared of needles?”
    “No.” Tox felt a thin sheen of sweat break at his hairline. 
    “Really?” She was close to him again, that same sweet-tea vanilla smell in his nose. Man, he liked that smell. He inhaled and felt something inside him ease. 
    “I don’t think I am,” said Tox.
    “But you’re nervous.” 
    He shrugged and sent the recliner backward. Yeah, there was the same sweet spot as the ones at the station. Get the feet adjusted right, and the head in that comfortable zone, and you could just bliss out, no matter what dumb crap your partner was watching on the big screen TV. “Not nervous. Maybe just a little…concerned.” 
    “Here.” She leaned over him, draping the blanket over his legs. “Adjust this so that you’re warm enough.” 
    “Are you kidding me?” 
    “Too warm?” 
    He felt like a wave of heat was coming down at him from the ceiling. “I’m sweating here.” 
    She removed the blanket and draped it over the next chair. “Are you sure you’re not scared of needles?” 
    “They’re sterilized, right?” 
    Grace laughed, a light, pretty sound. “Of course. Each one has never been used.” She glanced down at her paperwork. “Why do they call you Tox?”
    The change of subject startled him. “What?” 
    “Is it short for Toxic?” 
    “Yeah.” 
    “Why?” 
    “I’m a hazardous materials guy.” He paused. “Kind of the hazmat guy. If something bad blows up or off-gasses, they want me around to analyze it.” 
    She looked down at his paperwork. “What’s your real name?” 
    “Nuh-uh. If you need that for insurance or the gift certificate or something, I’ll just pay cash.” He wriggled, his legs already tense. 
    “No, no, I’m just curious, that’s all.” 
    Tox cleared his throat. “How many needles are you planning on using?” 
    “Not that many. A hundred and thirty or so?” 
    He jerked upright. “No way. No freakin’ way. Screw Lexie and her bright ideas.” 
    She laughed again and put a cool hand on his forearm. “I’m teasing you. We’ll probably do between ten and twenty points today. But at any time, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you want to leave, you can.” 
    He tried to relax back into the chair, but it was hard. The fight-or-flight reflex left the webs between his fingers damp. He hoped he wasn’t sweating through his shirt. “What’s the towel for?” 
    She sat on the stool and rolled closer to him, holding his paperwork. “I would tell you it’s to mop up your blood, but I think I’m at the edge of too much teasing with you.” 
    Tox pushed out his chest. “Impossible.”
    “Really?” She stuck the tip of her pen lightly into his forearm, and Tox jumped so high he felt his neck protest in response. “Ow. Man.” 
    “I’m sorry.” Grace leaned forward again. “I don’t usually do that.” 
    “Scare people into tweaking their necks?” But he wasn’t mad. Instead, strangely, he wanted to laugh. 
    “Tease patients.” 
    Tox had to admit, he liked it in theory. He liked being teased, especially by a woman so hot he could barely look away from her. Yeah, his neck hurt, but the trade-off was that he got to stare at those big coffee-colored eyes of hers. 
    Not a bad trade, really.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER