My Enchanting Doctor: Will You Heal This Frozen Heart Of Mine?

In the andrology department on the third floor of Apex Medical Center in Osebury, Ximena Hayes had only just lowered herself into her seat when the door was pushed open.

A broad-shouldered man stepped inside, his figure outlined by the glow from the corridor behind him.

Aydan Dixon wore a charcoal suit cut to perfection, his frame carved into a sharp V, his long strides carrying an unmistakable air of authority with every measured step.

When he moved fully into view, his features were revealed in clear detail, and even Ximena, seasoned from years of seeing all kinds of men, found herself quietly impressed.

What an absolute stunner!

Her eyes stayed on his face for a brief heartbeat before sliding downward to the clean line of his tailored slacks, eventually settling on a certain place.

What a shame!

Handsome, undeniably, yet perhaps not quite as formidable where it truly mattered.

Ximena lifted her gaze away, cleared her throat softly, and gestured toward the examination bed beside her, her voice level. "Lie down there and remove your trousers."

Aydan was struck speechless.

The atmosphere seemed to lock solid in an instant.

His expression cooled, his eyes sharpening into a frosted glare as they settled on the startlingly young woman before him, filled with appraisal and unmistakable suspicion.

She was dressed in a white coat, her hair secured in a sleek high ponytail that left her fresh, unadorned face exposed.

She looked barely past twenty, more like a trainee fresh from medical school than someone in charge.

"Where is Dr. Jeff Barnes?" Aydan asked, his tone quiet and edged with clear displeasure.

"Dr. Barnes was called into emergency surgery," Ximena answered evenly, holding his stare as she casually angled her badge toward him.

In bold black print, it displayed her title—Attending Physician: Ximena Hayes.

She inclined her head toward the examination bed and said, "I'm Dr. Hayes. I'm covering for Dr. Barnes today. Mr. Dixon, my schedule is tight, so please lie down and cooperate."

Aydan's brows drew together.

He had only come today because his grandfather, Hugh Dixon, had pressed him relentlessly.

Hugh, convinced that his nearly thirty-year-old grandson's complete indifference toward women must conceal some hidden defect, had insisted on a comprehensive checkup.

Hugh had reassured him again and again that Jeff was a trusted old friend and would guard his privacy without fail, so he could rest easy.

Yet now, the man meant to examine him had been replaced by a young woman instead of that long-standing friend?

Aydan's tolerance snapped; without another word, he pivoted toward the exit.

The entire appointment struck him as absurd.

"Mr. Dixon!" At the doorway, Colby Dawson, his assistant, hurried forward and blocked his path. "Your grandfather just called again, and he said that today… you must leave with the examination report in hand, otherwise…"

Colby swallowed, nerves evident in his voice as he finished, "Otherwise… he will personally come to supervise the examination…"

Personally supervise?

Aydan's striking features darkened like a sky before a storm.

He stood motionless, his temples pulsing sharply.

He could picture it perfectly—Hugh flanked by security, seated beside him, watching with doting interest as the examination unfolded with him bare from the waist down.

Aydan, twenty-eight years old and ruthless in the boardroom, suddenly found himself cornered in a way he rarely was.

He inhaled deeply, the breath heavy as if a stone had lodged beneath his ribs.

In the end, logic prevailed over pride.

With rigid steps, he approached the examination bed, each footfall grinding against what remained of his dignity.

"Lie down." Ximena's voice sounded once more, flat and unyielding.

Aydan said nothing as he lowered himself onto the bed.

The muscles beneath his suit were drawn tight, strained by sheer restraint.

Ximena slipped on a pair of medical gloves and moved closer, looking down at him with the detached focus one would give a training mannequin. "Remove your trousers. Must I repeat myself?"

His jaw tightened visibly; he shut his eyes and drew a slow breath before undoing his belt with abrupt force.

Then came the zipper.

During the entire ordeal, he kept his head turned aside, his gaze fixed on the anatomical chart mounted on the wall, as though sheer intensity might scorch through it.

The instant he sensed Ximena's attention shifted to him, his body went rigid as stone.

"Relax," she said evenly. "Remaining tense will interfere with the results."

Relax?

Aydan nearly lost his breath at the suggestion.

He felt as though he were hanging by a thread, and this woman was calmly instructing him to relax?

Unmoved by his inner chaos, Ximena proceeded with the assessment.

Her actions were efficient and clinical, without the slightest hesitation.

Her gloved fingers applied precise pressure as she examined him carefully.

For her, it was merely another case in a long work day.

For him, each passing second stretched into punishment.

And the most uncomfortable part had not even begun.

As she worked, she initiated the routine line of questioning. "Do you keep a consistent daily routine?"

"Yes." The word emerged through clenched teeth.

"Do you experience morning erections?"

Aydan's temple throbbed sharply.

The question sent a flush creeping along his sharply defined profile, yet he forced out the answer. "Yes."

Ximena gave a small nod, unsurprised, and continued, "When was your most recent sexual encounter?"