He peered at her, looking like a lopsided raccoon. “I should get hazardous-duty pay.”

“If it will make you feel better, I’ll give you one of the kids’ sugar-free lollipops. Cherry or grape?”

“Can you lace it with a painkiller?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“Sorry.”

“Then I’ll pass.”

Sierra braked the wheelchair beside the bed. “Do you want to hop up here or stay where you are?”

“I’ll stay right here, thank you very much. It’ll save on wear and tear when you send me to my car. So I can go home,” he finished pointedly.

“What? And miss a trip to Radiology?” She tutted. “Now, Dr. Donovan—”

“This is so unnecessary,” he grumbled. “I have a minor bump on my head, my chin’s not bleeding nearly as badly as it was and I wrenched my knee. Nothing that a few ice packs and a bandage won’t cure.”

She leaned over to study the gash, fully aware of how wonderful he smelled. “You’re right about your chin. A butterfly bandage should take care of it. As for the rest of your aches, we need X-rays.”

“No, we don’t.”

His expression reminded her of a little boy whose wishes were being thwarted. If he crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip, the picture would be complete.

The diagnosis was in and it was definite—Dr. Donovan was a lousy patient.

“Yes, we do,” she said, hiding her amusement. “How would it look if I sent you home with a subdural hematoma, a concussion or a torn ACL?”

“I didn’t tear my ACL,” he said. “Anterior cruciate ligament tears would be more painful and I would have heard a distinct pop, which I didn’t. I also didn’t fracture my skull and I absolutely, positively, do not have a concussion.”

“Here’s your ice pack, Doctor.” A nurse thrust the cold bag at him and he placed it on his face with heartfelt thanks.

“You know your brain wasn’t scrambled because…?” She waited for his response.

“I’ve had a concussion before and my current headache doesn’t come close.”

“That’s good to hear, but while you may have Superman’s X-ray vision, I, as your physician, do not.” She motioned to one of the nurses to begin taking his vital signs. “So your opinion is overruled. We might even spring for an MRI of your knee.”

“You’re making far too much of this.”

“Risk Management and Workman’s Comp all require a thorough exam, which is what I’m trying to do. As one of the hospital’s finest and most illustrious staff members, you should sit back and enjoy the attention.”

“I’d rather be at home, licking my wounds in private.”

While his injuries were obviously painful, she suspected they were strictly of the minor variety. “You’ll get there soon enough,” she predicted. “Meanwhile, let’s slip you into a hospital gown so we can take a look at—”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s either that or cut off your pants leg,” she warned. “I can’t see through fabric either.”

“Grab your scissors,” he said firmly. “Losing a pair of pants is not worth the indignity.”

“Okay, but it’s a waste of a perfectly good garment.”

“They’re mine to waste. Cut.”

With an order like that, she couldn’t refuse. She began snipping through the cotton, careful to avoid puncturing his skin. Each slice revealed more of his muscular leg and caused her mouth to suddenly go dry.

To make matters worse, she was oddly unsettled by her task, which was ridiculous because she’d cut off clothing before without a second thought, and on a number of men more handsome than Trey. If she wasn’t almost finished, she would have turned over the job to one of the hovering nurses, who clearly would have been thrilled at the honor.

“Do you run?” she asked, trying to deal with her view of his leg clinically.

“Yeah.”

His knee was too swollen for her to pull the free leg off, so she sliced the fabric lengthwise and laid it open. “You’ll have to postpone your daily jogs for a while.”

“You think?”

She smiled at his sarcasm. “You really are holding true to the stereotype about doctors being lousy patients.”

“I’m entitled. This whole thing was so stupid! It should never have happened.”

The guilt she’d been holding at bay reappeared. “Maybe next time you’ll let me handle it.”

His battered face didn’t hide his skepticism. “And what would you have done? Ended up at the bottom of the pile with me? Or, worse yet, instead of me?”