EXCERPT FROM "The Courage to Heal" by Hunter Frost:

He slid two long fingers over the inside of Wade's wrist.Hmm, soft as velvet. Damn him again. The man may not have been handsome by traditional standards, but Wade found him striking. The sienna complexion and angular features that hinted at his Native American heritage also gave him an earthy sensuality -- rugged and strong without the grit. He wanted to see all that long black hair free and flowing. He reminded Wade of some stoic warrior turned heavy metal god.Mercy. Since he couldn't pick out any gray strands in the sleek ponytail, and the only wrinkles were those near the corners of his eyes, Wade guessed he was in his early thirties, a few years younger than himself. The doc looked comfortable in his own skin and Wade liked that. He leaned toward him, the scent of aloe and autumn leaves a refreshing contrast to the vile odor of the hospital.

“Your pulse is slightly high,” the doctor said, removing his fingers. “But that's understandable when you're agitated.”

Oh, he was agitated all right. But this kind of agitation fluttered in his stomach and tingled in his groin. “Will you let me know when you hear about Dr. Allen?” Wade asked, hoping to distract his body from going down that road.

Dr. Okenah smiled crookedly, and Wade held back a sigh. Oh brother, he had a problem. “Of course.”

Wade nodded.

“I'll let her know you asked about her.”

“Sure, but she won't believe it. I've never been the most considerate patient.”

The doc's brow rose as if to say, “No, really?” but he remained silent as he tore open the Velcro of the blood pressure cuff.

“I'm not that bad,” Wade insisted.

“You get angry often?”

“Not too often,” Wade lied. He gazed down at the floor, shame creeping over him like the evening fog.

The doc moved on. “How about depression?”

Wade didn't know why he bothered to ask. It was all laid out in his chart. Didn't he know how embarrassing it was to talk about this shit? Naming those feelings only made him feel worse, as if somehow speaking them aloud gave them more power. Everyone already knew he was broken. Why beat a dead horse? Wade finally nodded, but the doc didn't press the issue.

Instead, Dr, Okenah slid his hand under the sleeve of Wade's T-shirt, pushing the material out of the way for the blood pressure cuff. Wade instinctively flexed his arm, his skin prickling with goosebumps at the touch. Knowing the doc couldn't have missed that as he wrapped the cuff around his arm, Wade flushed again. Why had he stopped doing his push-ups? His arms weren't as solid as they used to be. Hell, neither was the rest of him. But glancing up at the doc had Wade suddenly wishing for a lot of things -- that he had trimmed his shaggy beard, put on a cleaner t-shirt, or even combed his unruly hair. The ache in his cock signaled his overriding wish.

The sound of the Velcro ripping open jolted him back to grim reality.