Olivia basically had a stare down with Dr. Monroe. After several beats, she spoke again. "Whether you'd like to be here or not, it's not how I work. Liam is my patient, and I'd like to meet with him privately first. I understand you're the team doctor and would like to be involved in planning, but first I'd like to take a good look at his knee, review the MRI results and then we'll talk."

I bit back a grin because damn if her bossy side wasn't fun to see. I sobered immediately, realizing she was trying to do right by me and not just go along with whatever the team doctor, and by extension, management might want. After another brief staring contest, Dr. Monroe nodded and turned to leave. He glanced back at me before he closed the door. "Liam, if you need me, let me know."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I knew Dr. Monroe meant well, but it's not like Olivia would hurt me. I was quite looking forward to a few private moments with her, although for all the wrong reasons. He closed the door behind him, and I turned to Olivia. I'd stopped even thinking of her in doctor terms and was busy wondering how the hell I could get her out of those scrubs.

She wasn't even looking at me and was clicking through some screens on a laptop on the counter. After a moment, she turned back. She held a pen in her hand and flipped it back and forth between her fingers. Her gaze coasted over me. I was sweaty and streaked with dirt and didn't give a damn.

"Well, Olivia," I said, emphasizing her name. "You wanted to meet with me privately. Here we are."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. I could sense her wrestling with her thoughts, and it made me want to tease her even more. I felt let down when she simply shook her head slightly and stepped to my side. "Let's get you on the table." She moved efficiently and had me sitting on the table with my leg stretched out before I knew it. Her touch was cool and impersonal.

"I took a look at the MRI results from the scan they did before they brought you here. You tore your meniscus, but I'm guessing that doesn't surprise you," she said, her hand resting on my lower calf.

My gut clenched and an awful feeling of dread welled inside, sickening fear chasing fast on its heels. Football was my life. I didn't play for the fame, but I had it. It came with being one of the best midfielders in England and right up there in the world. A knee injury could spell the end of my career, and I was only thirty. I had plenty more years to play if I stayed healthy. I swallowed against the fear rising inside and met Dr. Bowen's gaze. She'd suddenly become Dr. Bowen in my mind again. I needed her to be that right now, so I could cling to the hope she could make me good as new. I'd been promised she was one of the best surgeons I'd find, and I prayed that to be true.

"Bloody hell."

Dr. Bowen's eyes softened, just the slightest bit. "I bet that's how this news feels, but it doesn't have to. You're young and healthy as a horse. The tear isn't too bad. I'm confident we can have you back on the field within a few months," she said with a subtle nod.

"All I care about is playing again. If you can make that happen, I'll do whatever you say."

A smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Right then. Are you comfortable going ahead with the surgery? It will be an outpatient procedure. You'll need to plan for a day here and then we'll send you home. I have plenty more to review, but let's cover the big picture first."

I shrugged. "Of course I'm comfortable. Let's get this done. The sooner the better." I didn't voice aloud the jumble of worries crowding my mind. The underlying fear that I might be facing the end of my career was powerful and hard to ignore, but I couldn't let myself dwell on it.

"You know you can choose your own doctor," she said gently.

I stared at her, confused by her point. "Dr. Monroe says you're the best."

"He does, does he? Well, either way, it's up to you. It's your knee. To be honest, that's why I wanted to give you a few minutes to yourself. You sports guys are all but owned by the teams, so it's easy to forget when it's comes to your medical care, you call the shots."

Dr. Monroe's opinion aside, I didn't want anyone other than Dr. Bowen to operate on my knee. Something about how she stood up to Dr. Monroe cemented my trust in her. She was still Dr. Bowen at the moment. I nodded firmly. "It has to be you."

Those green eyes held mine and damn if the bloody woman didn't know how to keep her expression controlled. Whatever she was thinking was hidden behind a bland, somber gaze. She finally nodded. "Right then. Well, let's go over the particulars."

She rolled a wheeled stool to the edge of the counter and perched on it. She adjusted those glasses again and spun on the stool with a computer tablet in hand. She briskly started talking, all business was definitely her mode, and reviewed the details of my surgery. I zoned out when she idly twirled one of those loose dark brown curls around her finger. After a few minutes, she set the tablet down.

"So will that work for your schedule?" she asked.

I'd noticed somewhere along the way, while she was driving me wild with her talk about the surgery, that her mouth was nearly perfect. When she was still, it was as if everything about her tightened up, so I hadn't noticed her lush, full lips at first. But when she started talking, she forgot to keep herself buttoned up. Her rosy red lips were distracting beyond belief. I'd swung my legs to the side of the table and was relieved, otherwise she'd have seen my how hard my cock was. Not that I was one to be shy when it came to women, but Olivia was a challenge and I knew it. She would most certainly not take well to blatant flirting. I stared into her green eyes and tried to recall what her question was.

"Come again?"

"The surgery. Will it work to do the surgery in two days?" she asked, speaking slowly, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

"Olivia," I loved saying her name and paused to enjoy it. At the arch of her brow, I grinned. "My schedule is your schedule."