He didn’t respond.

“He also said you’d feel like crap for a few days, but that you’d be fine in a month.”

“Two weeks.”

“Ah, I forgot. You’re Superman.”

He didn’t respond, but it didn’t take a psychic to sense the irritation level, which was rising, possibly due to the fact that his phone kept beeping from some mysterious depth in one of his pockets. “You want me to play secretary for you?”

“No.”

He wasn’t just hurting, he was angry. Vibrating with it. “Are you mad at the doctor, or the lab, or—”

“Pretty much everyone, thank you,” he said with silky ire.

“Including your driver, I’m guessing.”

“You snooped and read my chart.”

“Out of concern.”

“The test results are wrong,” he said flatly. “So I’d better not be reading about this in your next article.”

“Ah, so we’re back to the mistrust.” She sighed. “I’m going to cut you some slack since you’re hurting.”

“I’m not hurting. High as a kite, but not hurting.”

Okay, then. Good to know where she stood with him.

Or didn’t.

His phone rang again and he swore roughly, making her realize it was in his right pants pocket. With his arm freshly cut open and sewn shut and completely protected, he had no way of getting to it. She pulled over to the side of the highway and put her hand on his thigh.

“Fine,” he said, unhooking his seat belt and taking off his sunglasses. “Angry sex works for me. But you’re going to have to do all the work.”

“Shut up, Pace.” She frisked him for the phone, indeed finding it in his right pants pocket.

“A little to the left.”

A little to the left and she’d be wrapping her fingers around something else entirely. She slid him a look.

“Hey, I’m drugged up nice and good,” he said. “Go ahead, take advantage of me. I’ll suffer through it.” His voice was low and hoarse, not with passion but pain. The ass. She wanted to hug him.

Or smack him. “I prefer my men willing and able.”

“Move your hand over a little and you’ll see I’m both.”

She pulled out the phone, and then because she couldn’t help herself, glanced to the left of his zipper. He was hard. Her eyes met his glazed but amused ones. “Seriously?”

“Apparently you have the touch.”

His phone rang again and she eyed the ID. “It’s Wade.”

“Tell him I can’t talk right now, I’m in your hands.” He laughed at his own joke.