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carefully here. It was always a sensitive subject, but one she needed to address. Too bad most people were less than forthright about their bad habits, especially the ones that were illegal. She kept her voice matter-of-fact, her expression clear and nonjudgmental. “Were you impaired in any way?”
    The fingers of his left hand clenched. “I don’t drink. I don’t do drugs.” His mouth thinned, but she wasn’t sure if it was due to physical discomfort or the topic of conversation. “I went for a ride after work. The roads were wet. A deer ran out into the road and I lost control. End of story.”
    She picked up the electronic ear thermometer. “The EMTs’ notes said you weren’t wearing a helmet.” Yes, her tone made it clear she was judging him. Bad enough he drove a powerful vehicle that could reach great speeds. The least he could do was protect his head. “You’re lucky you weren’t more seriously injured.”
    Or killed.
    “Worried about me, Red?”
    Taking his temperature, she rolled her eyes, caught herself mid-roll and pretended to be checking out a very interesting speck on the ceiling. “It’s part of my job to be concerned about any and all of my patients.”
    “And here I thought I held a special place in your heart. With what happened between us and all.”
    His voice was low. Husky. It seemed to vibrate right into her chest.
    Neat trick, that.
    Straightening slowly, as if her inner voice wasn’t screaming at her to leap back and run like mad, she gave him her haughtiest look, the one she reserved for unruly, rude or pain-in-the-rear patients.
    He definitely qualified for the latter.
    “Did you injure your left arm?” she asked, her cool tone daring him to make another comment about the night she’d gone to his apartment.
    In answer, he held it out. She gently wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm, unwound the stethoscope from her neck and inserted the ear tips. After taking his blood pressure, she removed the cuff and checked his pulse. Typed all three figures into his file.
    “Any allergies to medications?” she asked. He shook his head. “What about tape? Latex? Iodine?”
    “No.”
    “Are you currently taking any medications?”
    He shook his head then winced.
    She opened a drawer and pulled out tubing. “I’m going to get your IV started, get you something for the pain. Could you straighten your left arm for me?” she asked, pulling on sterile gloves.
    She tightly tied a thick rubber band around his forearm just under his elbow, found the vein she wanted to use on the back of his hand, then disinfected the area. While it dried, she peeled open the catheter.
    “You ever do this before?” Kane asked, his tone wary enough to make her glance at him.
    He was staring at the catheter in her hand with what could only be described as trepidation. What was that about? She’d had plenty of people—young, old and in between—who were terrified of needles, more that weren’t thrilled about them, but could handle a shot or IV being inserted as long as they didn’t watch it piercing their skin. But Kane had tattoos. Several intricate, rather large ones, which would have taken hours upon hours to complete.
    That’s when it hit her, the realization swift and producing a giddy sort of triumph. He wasn’t afraid of needles.
    He was afraid of her.

CHAPTER FOUR
    “Y OU LOOK HAPPY ,” Kane grumbled, not liking the small smile playing on Red’s mouth.
    She made a humming sound, pure contentment and satisfaction. “Do I? Must be because I’m loving my job at the moment.”
    “Loving that you get to poke at me a few dozen times. Literally. With a very sharp object.”
    “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
    But her grin, just this side of mean, said otherwise.
    He shouldn’t think it looked good on her.
    He shifted. Pain stabbed his ribs, shot up his side. He held his breath, kept his face expressionless, but that didn’t seem to stop eagle eye from noticing. She