Playing Doctor

Chapter Twelve

Another Addendum to Ideal Husband List:

Must have an average name (Smith, Jones, or Brown are preferable-will accept an Anderson if necessary)

I stood in the new release section, completely perplexed. Why was On a Clear Day, a British movie, shelved here and not in the foreign releases? "Strange."

Shifting the tall stack of DVDs I held against my body, I debated my options. I could

1. ignore the obvious mistake and reshelf the movie incorrectly

2. rearrange the shelves, which meant shifting an entire section to the right

3. find Walter and ask him what to do.

What seemed the most correct was asking Walter. But I could already see the puzzled look he'd get on his face, like I'd handed him one of Einstein's unsolved equations and asked him to unravel it.

"Hey," someone said behind me the same moment I felt a feather-light brush down the nape of my neck.

I shrieked and jumped, losing my grip on the movies. They arced in a one hundred eighty radius around me.

"Oops" said the voice again. His voice.

Shooting a glare over my shoulder, I knelt to pick up my mess. "Should I feel privileged you chose to torture me rather than a defenseless child?"

"I took care of the kid earlier." Gray crouched and gathered DVDs in his hands.

I tried not to notice how capable his hands looked. "I've got it."

Of course he didn't listen. "The least I can do is help you clean this up since I was partly responsible."

Pause. Scowl. "How exactly do you figure I bear any responsibility for this? You're the one who startled me."

He smiled mischievously. "If you weren't so deep in thought you would have heard me behind you."

"Hmmph." I hated that he was trying to charm me with his smile. I hated more that it was working.

"You're so cute when you're disgruntled," he said as he handed me a small stack of DVDs.

"I'm not cute," I mumbled.

"Then what are you?"

Irate. Frustrated. Lonely. "I'm normal."

His laugh echoed deep from his diaphragm. "Darling, you are anything but normal."

I narrowed my eyes at him and imagined him on the operating table with me holding a knife above him. We'd see who'd laugh then.

"Everything okay here, Daphne?"

I mentally groaned. Of course my boss would choose this moment to look for me. I tried to smile as placidly as I could given my agitated state. "It's fine, thank you."

Walter frowned down at Gray. "Are you sure?"

Gray handed me the rest of the videos and stood up with a smile. "Totally my fault."

"Oh." He looked at me.

I nodded, ignoring Gray's raised eyebrow. It wasn't beneath me to use him as an excuse. Besides, it actually was his fault.

"Do you need help?" Walter asked in such a way that it was loud and clear he didn't really want to give it.

This was where I should ask him about the correct filing for the movie, but I didn't trust Gray around my boss-no telling what he'd say-so I quickly vetoed that idea. "I'm fine. Thank you."