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she didn’t walk around naked, she had no false modesty. 
    Gabriel took off the bandage and inspected her wound. “The X-rays were clear—no bullet fragments. But this is a nasty hole. You lost a lot of blood, the paramedics said.”
    “No more than I would have donated at the blood bank,” she said.
    He smiled. He had that way about him—annoying, sexy, calming. She could see why Selena was in love with him.
    A nurse came in with a tray. “You can leave it,” he told her.
    “Don’t you want me to suture the wound, doctor?”
    “I’ll do it.”
    That surprised the nurse, but she put the tray down and left.
    “If you have something to do, go do it. I’m fine.”
    “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
    She have him a wrinkled-nose smile. “You’re going to hurt me with that needle.”
    He had a two needles, in fact. “This is an antibiotic.” Then he injected it into her arm.
    “That wasn’t too bad.”
    “This is a local anesthetic.” He injected it close to the gunshot wound and she jumped.
    “Fuck!” she exclaimed. Every nerve ending in her arm—on her entire right side—burned.
    “You’re a baby,” he said.
    “Just get it over with,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
    Every push and pull of the needle brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to cry.
    “I banned the press,” Gabriel said, “but you might want to be careful when you leave.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t apologize. You saved a man’s life. It’s news.”
    “It’s news because he’s a politician.”
    “That to.”
    “And they’re not interested in any of that. They’re interested in what happened last summer.”
    Gabriel tensed.
    “I’m fine ,” she said.
    “I know. I’m your doctor, remember?”
    When she’d come in with a bullet in her back, Gabriel had been on duty. She didn’t know he’d saved her life until after the surgery. She’d always liked him—even though he could be very intense—but saving her life had bonded her to him like a brother.
    “Don’t worry about me, Gabriel,” she said.
    He clipped the stitches and put a loose bandage over the skin. “You should wear a sling, but I know you won’t so I won’t even give you one.”
    “You’re a peach.”
    He pulled over a stool and sat down. Gabriel had a way of looking at you as if you were the only person in the world. Hospitals were loud, crowded, and bustling, but all that fell away. “You didn’t call your father.”
    “Oh, shit.” She should have called her dad. He would have wanted to hear that she was okay from her. Would it have killed her to give him two minutes? “Did you call him?”
    Gabriel shook his head. “He heard it along with most everyone else—through the media.”
    “I’m the world’s worst daughter. You told him I was okay, right?”
    “Of course. He’s waiting in my office. I just wanted to make sure you were cleaned up and didn’t look like death warmed over when he walked in.”
    “He’s here? I need a shirt,” Alex said. She rubbed her temples. Her head was aching. “And do you have some aspirin around here?”
    “You can’t mix your meds,” Gabriel said.
    She stared at him. “I’m not taking pain meds. What about Tylenol? Advil? Something over-the-counter-ish?”
    “I’ll find you a shirt,” he said.
    Gabriel walked out and Alex braced herself for her father.
    Judge Andrew Morgan walked in a few minutes later. Worry etched his face, disappearing when he saw that she was okay.
    “I’m so sorry dad.”
    He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. He rested his chin on her head a moment, then stepped back. “My clerk told me that you had been shot saving the life of Travis Hart. I didn’t know anything else.”
    “I have no excuse for not calling you. I’m fine, just a couple of stitches.”
    “Gabriel told me.”
    She felt like shit. “I’m really, really sorry.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. The last thing she wanted to do was worry her dad.
    He sat