My Secret Husband Is My Cold Boss novel Chapter 17

Every time Wendy had seen Sampson, he had been wearing tailored suit pants.

The high-quality, perfectly draped fabric completely masked the powerful muscle structure hidden underneath.

If she hadn't touched it with her own hands.

Wendy would have never guessed Sampson was in such incredible shape!

Interventional surgeries required operating with microscopic precision within delicate blood vessels.

Maintaining extreme tactile sensitivity in her fingertips was a professional habit Wendy had cultivated for years.

Because of this heightened sensitivity, the absolute second her palm pressed against his thigh, her brain immediately registered one unassailable fact: the muscle definition on his legs was spectacular.

It was tight, explosive power, perfectly sculpted without being grotesquely bulky.

It was, in all honesty, even more structurally flawless than the prized anatomical models back in medical school.

Pure academic curiosity made her mind wander for a second.

If being a Chief Resident didn't consume every waking second of her life, she definitely would have hired a trainer to build up her glutes and legs.

Then she wouldn't suffer such agonizing back pain after standing in lead aprons for hours.

But muscle synthesis was heavily dependent on testosterone. Women produced a fraction of what men did.

Achieving Sampson's level of muscular density was practically impossible for her.

But even half of that would be amazing!

Beneath her palm, the man's searing body heat radiated through the silk-blend fabric, warming her skin.

Judging by this, his body fat percentage couldn't be more than fifteen percent.

Wendy flexed her fingertips slightly.

In the very next second, a large, warm hand clamped down over hers.

Sampson's low, gravelly voice vibrated from above, laced with a faint, unmistakable edge of amusement. "Dr. Gates?"

Wendy snapped back to reality. She instantly shoved the property deeds into Sampson's chest and smoothly retracted her hand, pretending nothing had happened.

"My apologies."

"It's dark. I was worried they would fall and be hard to reach. I promise I wasn't intentionally trying to grope you."

Sampson stared at her in silence.

The lighting was too dim for Wendy to tell if he actually bought her excuse.

"I see. Dr. Gates has incredibly fast reflexes. Director Franklin wasn't exaggerating when he said you were gifted."

Under normal circumstances, that would have been a glowing professional compliment.

He continued, "I can guarantee my mother gave these to you straight from the heart."

"Returning them would only insult her. Keeping them will make her much happier."

But the sheer financial weight of the gift was too massive for comforting words to fix.

Anticipating this, Sampson offered a highly practical solution.

"If it really makes you uncomfortable, just buy her two bottles of vintage perfume in return. She collects them. If they come from you, she'll be thrilled."

Perfume was well within Wendy's budget, and it catered perfectly to Winona's tastes.

It was the best possible compromise.

Finding no flaws in his logic, Wendy agreed.

Since they were hiding their marriage, Sampson obviously couldn't help her carry the mountain of food up to her office.

Wendy lugged the heavy bags out of the car herself.

As she approached the entrance of the outpatient building, she ran into Victor Vance, who was heading down to grab takeout.

Victor was on call tonight.

Seeing her struggling, he easily took one of the heavy bags from her. "Wow, Chief Gates, you only went home for half the day and you're already back?"