Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

obliterated the tearing pain he felt.
    One more. Just one more.
    He leaned back and gripped the padded handles harder, pulling, lifting, until a flash of heat tore through his knee. The sound of steel hitting steel rang out like a shot and echoed through the empty gym, taunting him with his failure.
    “Damn!” Nathan wiped a towel across his face before resting his elbows on his knees. Just that little bit of pressure caused more pain and he winced before shifting positions.
    “Damn!”
The curse echoed around him. This was definitely not going the way he had planned. He was into his fourth week of physical therapy. He
should
be able to lift more weight by now. They had told him not to push it, but what did they know? If he waited as long as they suggested, he’d be old and gray before he went back to playing. That was a chance he couldn’t take.
    Nathan ran his hands through his damp hair then stood, ignoring the throbbing in his leg that threatened to topple him to the floor before he got his balance. He limped halfway to the locker room, thinking of nothing but a long, hot shower followed by several ice packs when the gym door opened behind him.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice was unnaturally loud, the anger and accusation bouncing off the walls. Nathan stopped with a sigh and slowly turned.
    Sonny LeBlanc stormed across the floor, his meaty fists clenched by his sides when he stopped a foot away. Nathan fought the urge to flinch and make up excuses like a child. Sonny had that effect on everyone. At a stocky six feet tall, Sonny looked more like a former drill sergeant than a hockey coach. His dark eyes were harsh slits and the squareness of his face was made more austere by the buzz cut of his salt-and-pepper hair. The straight-edged scar that ran down the left side of his cheek glowed red under the bright overhead lights, an incongruous slash in an otherwise smooth face.
    Sonny had the misfortune of running into a skate blade during one of his final games years earlier. Now one of the best coaches in the league, he had the reputation of remaining outwardly impassive — except for the scar. No matter how poker-faced the man stayed, the scar always betrayed him, glowing like a brand during times of anger and duress.
    Right now, the brightness of the scar would light the gym if the power failed. Not a good sign for Nathan. He took a deep breath and let it out, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
    “How stupid are you, Conners? How stupid do you think I am? What are you trying to do, blow every chance you have of coming back? I oughtta suspend you just for being dumb! I’d’ve thought you knew better! Well? What the hell are you doing?”
    “Therapy.” Nathan’s tight voice seemed liked a whisper after Sonny’s outburst.
    “Bull! I just got off the phone with that doctor of yours and he said you ain’t supposed to be doing any of this crap until you’re cleared.” Sonny’s finger came up and jabbed Nathan in the chest for emphasis. “And you’re not cleared! Now get in there and wash up and don’t let me catch you back here! I’m not going to have you blow your chance because of some bullheaded notion swimming around that thick skull of yours!”
    Nathan clenched his jaw and stared at Sonny’s broad back as he left, feeling like an ultimatum had been laid at his feet. So now they were trying to keep him from working on his own, were they? Well, he’d just go see about that. He had too much at stake to let it rest in someone else’s lap.
    “I need to see Dr. Porter,” Nathan repeated for the third time, leaning closer to the desk so he hovered over the receptionist. He felt a second of gratitude when she flinched.
    “Mr. Conners, I’m sorry, but I already explained he left for the day. I can make an appoint —”
    “No! I want to see him. Now.”
    “There is nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
    Nathan glared at the small woman staring back at him and called himself