“Finn? Are you all right?”
His eyes snapped open. Lisa Peretti stood before him, barefoot, her sandals held in one hand. Wary sympathy shone from her dark eyes.
Great. How much had she overheard? “Fine. How are you?”
Smooth. Very smooth.
“Not bad. For what it’s worth, ‘deformed’ is a little over the top. As a medical professional, I wouldn’t use that phrase.”
“So you heard all that.”
She nodded. Her glance flickered down his body, and it seemed she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t. She probably wasn’t one for empty expressions of sympathy.
“Fan-tastic. I’m trying to figure why I keep embarrassing myself in front of you and I’m coming up blank.” He grabbed the champagne bottle and took another swallow. “Drink?”
“I’m good. I don’t drink when I’m working.”
“So I’m drinkin
