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Then She Noticed
The last time she'd noticed another woman's legs with anything more than clinical detachment was during her residency, when she'd fallen into a brief and somewhat sordid affair with a married charge nurse. Since then, her days had been filled with work and marriage and work and her daughter and yet more work, and she'd just assumed that any urges she might have possessed had been lost along the way. Then she'd met Dr. Kate Murphy.
It wasn't love at first sight or even lust, but as time wore on and she began to bow to the pressure to connect with other people, it became painfully obvious that the only person she didn't need to try and connect with was her boss. It was the little things; unrehearsed comments about Kate's wardrobe and impromptu enquires as to her evening plans, little things that most people took for granted, but to her were aberrations to a normally insulated existence.
At first, she'd dismissed the way her eyes lingered on Kate's legs and even managed to convince herself that the slow perusal of her boss's curves was nothing more than mild curiosity. Then, Kate had smiled, and all the excuses in the world weren't enough to deny the truth. Her lips had quirked in an unpractised grin and she'd stepped forward, her intentions unknown, only to falter at the reality of Kate's plans: a man, a date, a reason beyond her presence for the look of shy beauty on her boss's face.
Her grin faded but did not flee. The detachment, for which she was so famous, had at last met its match, and nothing would ever be the same again.
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