An ugly twenty-five minutes later, I ungracefully approached the older woman stationed behind the receptionist desk inside Dr. Bennett’s office. She looked up from her computer screen and gave me a beady eyed look over a pair of black framed reading glasses balanced on the end of her nose.

“Hi. I’m Ciaran Thompson. I have an appointment to see Dr. Bennett.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Thompson, but your appointment time has passed. Dr. Bennett is already with another patient.” Her bright smile completely contradicted the bad news she delivered.

I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue. “Are you Gloria?” I asked.

Adjusting her glasses, she puffed out her chest with importance and grunted once. I sized up her rigid posture. It was going to take some serious schmoozing in order to get past this sentry at the gate.

“Hi, Gloria. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the lovely lady behind that sweet voice. I apologize for being late but my office is located across town and afternoon traffic is a nightmare. I wouldn’t have agreed to the appointment but it’s urgent I see Dr. Bennett today. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.”

Gloria’s twisted mouth let on she was not the least bit impressed by my drama. Her lack of reaction shoved me onto a course I hated to take, but I was more than desperate. “On my way to the car, Mel— I mean, my loving, sweet mother called. Her health is rapidly deteriorating and as I’m sure you can understand, I worry about her. I had to take her call to make sure she was alright.”

Teetering somewhere on the edge of my conscience, a singing cricket pitched himself over the ledge of honesty and plunged to his death. I was going to hell for lying to this sweet woman but, as already stated, I was more than desperate.

Gloria’s face softened as she gingerly patted the hand I had resting on the marble counter. “Of course, I understand dear. You are a wonderful child to look after your mom. My daughter could learn a thing or two from you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Please, it’s the least I can do considering everything mothers like you have sacrificed for their children. So, do you think there is any chance I can get in to see Dr. Bennett? I’m willing to wait however long it takes.”

Handing me a clipboard with blank patient forms attached and a pen, she batted her heavily made up eyes. “Let me see what I can do. Have a seat and fill out the forms. You can turn them in when we call you back.”

“Thank you, Gloria. I greatly appreciate it.” I granted her one of my sincere smiles and then made my way to one of the oversized upholstered chairs stationed around the waiting room.

Now that I knew for sure I was going to get to see Dr. Bennett, the nervousness I felt earlier resurfaced. I chewed on my bottom lip and tried to distract myself with the environment.

The waiting room décor was everything I expected in a plastic surgeon’s office. The walls were painted a soft cream color and had huge black and white photos of the Dallas skyline hanging in the center of each. They gave the room a very posh touch.

I scanned over the handful of women waiting in the room. Their features were unique but all were impeccably and expensively dressed, which stood to reason since I knew plastic surgery didn’t come cheap. Turning back to the clipboard, I filled out the forms. Hopefully my health insurance covered the appointment since it was an “emergency” because I was sure there was no way I could afford it.

The door leading to the exam rooms opened and Monique, the curvy blonde Dr. Bennett had been eating lunch with a couple of days back, emerged.

“Ms. Thompson, we are ready for you,” she called out.

I stood and walked towards her, feeling the eyes in the room follow me. Mentally brushing them off, I handed the clipboard to Gloria and turned back towards Monique.

“Ms. Thompson, I’m Monique,” she stated, closing the door to the waiting area. “I’ll be assisting Dr. Bennett with your exam.”

With an haughty look, she turned and briskly walked down the hallway. Staying quiet, I followed her into an empty exam room.

“You can have a seat on the table. Dr. Bennett is extremely busy and only has time for a brief examination. If it proves to be urgent, he will more than likely direct you to the emergency room.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a stiff smile. I was getting a weird vibe off the woman and it smelled a lot like insincerity.

Done with the initial welcome, Monique left the room and shut the door behind her giving me a chance to investigate.

With the exception of posters on the walls advertising lip injections, varicose vein treatments, and breast augmentations, the area closely resembled a normal doctor’s examination room. Stopping on a poster with a model who flaunted a rack the size of cantaloupes, my hands automatically moved over my smaller breasts. My girls were nowhere near the size of those puppies. The office was going to give me a complex.

I dropped my hands and hopped off the table. Strolling to the cabinet area along one wall, I pulled open the drawers. Cotton balls. Box of swabs. Rubber gloves. Nothing interesting at all.

Reaching above my head, I opened one of the doors and revealed a stack of pamphlets next to a box of tongue depressors. There wasn’t anything in this room that was going to help me write my story.

“Is there something I can help you find, Ms. Thompson?”

With more force than necessary, I slammed the cabinet door shut and spun around to come face-to-face with an irritated looking Dr. Kean Bennett.

He stood just inside the door with an open manila file folder in his hands. He was frowning but he was still breathtaking. And taller than I remembered. The white doctor’s coat he had on over an off-white dress shirt pulled tight on his biceps. I squinted as the memory of what his body looked like while he was on the treadmill next to mine flashed through my head. Absorbed by the mental image, I failed to realize I was blatantly checking him out until he cleared his throat.

My eyes shot to his face. “I was looking for a tissue so I could blow my nose.”

“You mean like the tissues sitting in the box on the counter right in front of you?”

“Yes, those would be them.” I sniffed and plucked a tissue out of the economy sized box. Dabbing under my nose I muttered my thanks and returned to the exam table.

He shook his head and looked down at the folder in his hands. “So, Ms. Thompson, you believe you ruptured your implant. Why do you think it’s ruptured?”

“I fell,” I answered.

He looked up from the folder and stared at me.

“I fell down, hard, on my chest. I think I heard a pop. Like a balloon and then my chest felt squishy.” Oh my God. Someone please shoot me. Did I really just use the word squishy?

“Squishy and a popping sound, that’s interesting.” Dr. Bennett narrowed his eyes as they moved down to my chest. “How long has it been since you had breast augmentation surgery?”

“Umm, I’m not exactly sure.” I coughed.

He looked puzzled for a moment as he stepped closer to the exam table. “I don’t need an exact date. If you can narrow it down to the year it should be fine.”

I had no year, no month, no brain, apparently. What the hell had I been thinking by attempting this idiotic plan? The sudden need to pack it up and run hit me with a powerful punch. I rubbed a hand over my heart.

“Ms. Thompson are you okay?”

“Sorry, yes, I’m fine.” I met his deep green eyes hoping he didn’t see the extreme guilt I was feeling for lying.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” he asked.

I almost fell off the exam table.

There was no way Dr. Bennett recognized me. It wasn’t possible. I had been in disguise each time.

Remembering how he reacted in the cafe and then again at the gym sent my pulse furiously pounding. I needed to change the course of his questioning in order to distract him.

“You know, I don’t actually remember the year I had my surgery. That’s funny, right?”

He frowned again. “Can you at least give me the name of the doctor who performed the procedure?”

“Sorry, I’m not good with dates or names.” I knew I sounded like an airhead but at least he was no longer looking at me like I was familiar. Instead, he was back to looking irritated.

He took another step in my direction. “Talk to me about what symptoms you are experiencing. Any fever, pain or swelling of the chest area?”

I had absolutely no idea how to answer him. I should have conducted more research beforehand so at least I would have had a clue as to what types of symptoms an implant leak even caused. It was too late now. I would have to go with the flow.

I shook my head no.

“Let me guess, you can’t remember if you’ve had symptoms or not, right?” he snapped.

I didn’t appreciate his sarcastic tone one bit but kept my mouth shut.

He sighed and tossed my file onto the countertop. “Unbutton your blouse so I can take a look.”

I looked down at my blouse. The man wanted to see my breasts, naked, without the protective shield of clothing. Which would make sense since he was a freaking doctor. The problem was, I wasn’t on board with his request.

A slight knock sounded from the other side of the exam room door and momentarily saved me.

“Come in,” Dr. Bennett called out, while continuing to stare at me impatiently as he waited for me to get my butt in gear and drop my clothes.

The door opened and Nurse Monique came strutting into the room. Flashing a coy smile at Dr. Bennett, she headed straight for the cabinet area where she leaned back against it.

“Ms. Thompson, I’m waiting,” Dr. Bennett snapped.

Shit. I was really going to have to strip.

Gripping the last button above the bottom hem of my blouse, I asked a question. “So how do you like being a plastic surgeon?”

“It has its moments. Now can we move along? You are not the only patient I have to attend to today.”

It wasn’t exactly an elaborate answer but it was something. I asked a different question. “You know, I’ve always found plastic surgery fascinating. Why do you think women come to you, like what’s the reason behind their needs?”

“Well, you tell me, Ms. Thompson. Why did you decide to enhance your breasts? Was it for a husband or a boyfriend? Or because you were envious over another woman’s chest?”

Stunned, my hands dropped into my lap as I gaped at him.

“Dr. Bennett,” Monique sighed.

“For the love of god,” he muttered as he reached out and practically ripped the last four buttons off my blouse as he hastily undid them.

Exposed in my light pink lace bra, I mustered enough dignity to announce my displeasure. “You don’t need to be so rough. I was doing what you asked.”

“Yes, but at the rate you were moving, we would be here all day, Ms. Thompson.”

From across the room, Monique cleared her throat and opened one of the drawers under the counter. Pulling out a pair of disposable latex gloves she handed them to her boss. 

“Do you have any allergies that we should be aware of?” she asked. I shook my head as I watched Dr. Bennett expertly pull the latex over his hands.

It wasn’t a good sign. The man was about to touch me and find out I was a liar, which majorly sucked because I had yet to gather any of the information I needed. 

A question flew out of my mouth at a speed that could easily win a NASCAR race.

“Dr. Bennett, I was wondering what kind of surgeries you do the most of?”

“Ms. Thompson, do you think you can focus on the issue at hand instead of asking five million questions? I apologize if you’re not getting enough attention from your significant other, but I really don’t have the time to do their job for them.”

“You are such an ass,” I yelled before I could stop myself. A hand flew to my mouth and covered it. It was uncommon for me to speak to someone so rudely but I was so over his ill-mannered behavior.

Clutching my shirt closed, I wiggled my butt, inching sideways so I could hop off the table without coming into contact with him. A latex-covered hand clamped down on my hip and jerked me back into place. Without a word he wrapped those large hands around my wrists and pulled them from where they were holding my blouse together. I was so in shock, all I could do was stare at him.

His eyes briefly met mine before looking down at my chest. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped my bra cups up, causing my breasts to spring free.

My eyes snapped shut as I squeaked.

In mere seconds, gentle fingers circulated over the plump flesh of my right breast before pressing gently underneath the nipple. Slowly opening my eyes, I focused on his hand as it left my beaded nipple and shifted to my left breast. He repeated his movements before his hand suddenly stilled and hovered an inch from my body. I flicked my eyes to his in time to see something dark pool behind the sparkling green, quickly snuffing out whatever light that was reflected in them.

“What is it, Doctor?” Nurse Monique asked.

I had forgotten she was in the room.

Stepping back, he addressed his nurse while keeping his eyes locked with mine. “Monique, give Ms. Thompson and I a minute.”

Monique gave the back of his head a strange look but quickly left the room. I was so scared, I almost yelled for her to come back.

Dr. Bennett pulled off his gloves, tossed them in the trash and crossed his arms against his broad chest as he faced me again. His stance gave fair warning that whatever he was about to say, wasn’t going to be good.  

“You want to tell me what the hell you’re really doing here, other than wasting my time with some made up story?” he crossly asked.  

Pulling my bra back over my breasts, I buttoned my blouse and made the decision to fess up. “I’m a writer for Polish Magazine and wondered if you would be willing to answer a few questions for an article I’m working on.”

“Let me get this straight. You pretended to be a patient with an emergency so you could ask me questions?”

“I’m sorry Dr. Bennett. I thought it would be easier if I made an appointment to see you. You’re one of the best plastic surgeons in the nation. And it’s just a few questions. Writing a piece on you is an honor.”

“Lady, you are out of your mind. Do you really think I am going to give you an interview after what you just pulled? Grab your things and get the hell out of my office.”

Tears sprung from out of nowhere. I couldn’t let this happen. Shawna would be pissed if I screwed this up for the magazine. I would lose everything and then some if I couldn’t get him to agree to an interview.

“Please, just hear me out. I’ll do anything. It would be a quick interview. I only need a couple of short answers,” I pleaded.

In three steps, Dr. Bennett crossed the room and yanked open the door. “You have exactly one minute to get out of my sight.”

I slid off the table and scurried over to where he was glaring. “Please, Dr. Bennett. Please reconsider. I think there are women out there who would benefit from this article.”

“Ms. Thompson, if I ever see you in my building again I will have you forcefully removed from the premises. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded as tears fell down my cheeks.

To add to my humiliation, several of his employees, including Monique and Gloria, stood frozen in the hallway as they watched in bewilderment.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I didn’t bother to wait for a response. Ignoring the stares of the staff, I fled Dr. Bennett’s office in a flood of tears.