Suppressing a sigh, Bridget leaned back in her chair.

It was just her rotten luck to finally meet a man she found physically attractive and mentally stimulating, but couldn't have.

Turner was not only human but also her patient.

But even if she was willing to overlook those factors in the hopes of him being a Dormant, he was asking her to sign his death warrant.

"I would love to keep on talking, but we should get on with the physical examination." She rose to her feet and waited for Turner to join her.

As they stepped into her examination room, a sense of déjà vu washed over Bridget. Not too long ago, it had been Andrew who had come in for a checkup, and the two of them had ended having sex right there on her examination table.

The circumstances were similar but not the same. Andrew had come to her clinic not because he had wanted her medical opinion, but because he'd wanted to hook up with her. Both of them had known that.

Turner, on the other hand, was there as a patient and not a prospective lover. In fact, the man was so hard to read that she couldn't tell if he found her attractive or not. He didn't flirt, not even subtly, and he hadn't reacted to any of her gentle hints.

Turner eyed the examination table. "Do I need to undress?"

"Only on top." Unlike with Andrew, she refrained from teasing Turner by asking him to get naked.

Because he was nothing like Andrew.

Andrew had been fun despite the dark shadows that she'd seen in his eyes.

Turner was as fun as a Pitbull.

He was powerful, and intimidating without trying to be. Mainly because of his obvious brilliance, but also physically. She had a feeling he could overpower her, and that was something not many human males could do.

"You can hang your jacket on that hook." She pointed at the door.

"Thank you."

Turning his back to her, he shrugged the jacket off, the light-blue dress shirt he had underneath doing nothing to hide his wide, muscular back from Bridget's roaming eyes. With him facing the door, she could stare with impunity as she waited for him to take the next layer off.

Wow, the guy's body was sculpted like that of a bodybuilder training for a competition. Very impressive for someone his age.

Which was what? She'd forgotten to ask.

Unprofessional.

Turner hung his dress shirt on top of his jacket and turned around, revealing a front that was just as impressive as the back. Other than underwear models, Bridget hadn't seen a human with an eight-pack before.

Still staring at his midriff, she asked, "How old did you say you were?"

"I didn't. I'm forty-six."

"You must be spending a lot of time in the gym."

Turner looked down at his abs. "This is actually the result of martial arts training. A strong core is key."

She lifted her head to look into Turner's gray eyes, which were just as distracting as his abs or more. "Which one do you practice?"

"A variety of them. May Thai, Brazilian Jim-Jitsu, MMA, Krav Maga, to name a few."

"How do you find the time to do all that?"

For some reason, her question made him uncomfortable, and he shrugged, the movement employing his shoulder muscles which were also a work of art. "I don't have a family, and I can't sleep more than six hours a night. The other eighteen are divided between work, training, and studying."

She motioned for him to hop on the examination table, and reached for her stethoscope. "What about having fun?"

He turned to look at her. "I enjoy doing all three activities."

"I meant going out, spending time with friends, dating…"

"No."

"No to all of that?"

"Basically."

Turner was living a very isolated life.

"Breathe in," she said.

He did as she asked, then again and again until she was done.

"I need to see the results of all the tests you took."

"Can't you do them here?"

"I can. But I'd rather avoid exposing you to more radiation."

He nodded.

"I'll take a few blood samples, though."

Turner watched her prepare a syringe and several ampules. "What are you going to check for?"

"Everything that blood work can reveal, which is a lot. Why, do you have a problem with needles?"

He didn't strike her as someone who was afraid of anything, but people were sometimes unpredictable, especially complicated ones like Turner.

"No. But I'm well aware of what blood work can reveal, and I'm very careful about who I allow to have it. Where does it go from here?"

"Nowhere. We have much more to hide than you do."

"True. So none of you ever seek medical treatment outside the clan?"

"We don't get sick. I take care of the occasional injury and spend most of my time on research. Although lately, I've been quite busy with all the transitioning Dormants. We didn't have any for thousands of years, and suddenly we keep finding one after another."

He lifted a brow. "Thanks to Professor Amanda Dokani's research?"

"I wish it was that straightforward. It would have meant that we’d found a way to identify Dormants. Unfortunately, her research discovered only two, and even that I believe was by chance."

He frowned. "So how do you explain it?"

"As a scientist, it's embarrassing for me to admit, but I have to credit fate or some other higher power."

Turner's lips lifted in a smile. "There is a theory that claims we, including everything around us, are a simulation in a game played by aliens."

"That's hilarious."

He shook his head. "This is an actual theory, not a joke."

"The things people come up with," Bridget said as she tied a rubber band around his arm.

"How long will it take to get all the results?" he asked as she drew the second blood sample.

"A few days."

"And then you're going to decide what to tell Kian?"

"I need to get the test results from your doctor first."

"And after that?"

Bridget filled in the last ampule, corked it, and wrote Turner's name on the label.

"Give me two weeks to convince you not to go through it."

"Why?"

She leaned away, giving him some space. "Doctor's orders."

"You need to give me a reason."

"Because I'm selfish."

He seemed genuinely puzzled by her answer. "My transition has nothing to do with you being selfish or not."

"On the contrary. I find you fascinating, Turner, and I want to get to know you better before I agree to your suicide mission." There, she'd said it, breaking every rule in the book.

Then again, this situation wasn't covered in any of her medical ethics texts.

He eyed her suspiciously. "How do you propose to get to know me? Schedule daily sessions? And what do you hope to learn?"

The guy was way too smart not to get her meaning. Was he teasing her?

But he wasn't smiling.

Well, duh. He was not expecting his doctor to proposition him.

"I'm asking you out, Turner. We can go to a nice restaurant and talk, and you can dazzle me with your alien theories and the like. I would love to hear more about it."

The stunned expression on his face was priceless, especially given how rarely the master strategist and spy must have gotten surprised.

It took him a few seconds to switch gears, and then he smiled. "Where do you want to dine?"

"Anywhere you wish as long as they have some vegetarian dishes. I don't eat meat. I'm more interested in the company than in the food."

Still smiling, Turner smoothed his hand over the back of his head. "If we are going on a date, you should call me by my given name, Victor."

"Victor. It suits you."

"When?" he asked.

"I can't tomorrow. Is Wednesday good for you?"

He nodded. "I'll pick you up at six."