200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick

by Louisa George

  ‘Thanks, but I can manage.’

  * * *

  She kept her distance as she walked barefoot into the pub and upstairs to a window seat overlooking the river.

  Declan sat opposite her, that sexy mouth teasing her resolve. ‘So, Kara, are you planning on staying in Burns and Plastics? Which particular area are you thinking of specialising in?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know. I love it all, but I’m not sure yet as to exactly where I’d fit.’

  ‘What made you choose it in the first place?’

  ‘I was amazed by the army medics my mother worked with—seeing how they could change someone’s life after extensive injury made me want to do the same. So I guess I lean more towards reconstruction than cosmetics.’

  ‘You didn’t want to follow your parents into the army?’

  She laughed, imagining herself taking orders...and failing. ‘God, no, that was never on the cards. I like dealing with clients from all walks of life and different scenarios.’

  He took a sip of beer and watched her for a moment, his brown eyes peering deep. ‘And has it lived up to your expectations so far?’

  ‘Oh, like all aspects of medicine there’s plenty of times when it’s devastating and frustrating—’

  ‘When patients don’t make it, or don’t want to comply? Or when you know the causes of their injuries were avoidable?’ He shook his head. ‘Believe me, I know.’

  ‘But I still get that mad buzz when someone leaves in a better condition, both physically and mentally, than when they came in. There’s not a lot that can beat the high of success.’

  ‘Oh? Really?’ Declan put down his beer and leaned across the table. ‘Use your imagination, Kara. I can think of a few things.’

  She didn’t need to ask him what he meant. Those eyes caught on hers again as he smiled, slow and lazy. Sexy too. Very, very sexy. An unspoken buzz fizzed between them. Something that was intangible but clear.

  Again with the blushing. She couldn’t remember Rob ever making her blush, or making her feel this weird mix of fear and excitement just by talking. She wanted to touch Declan. To smooth down that unruly mop of hair. To feel the rough edges of his jaw against her palm, her cheeks, her mouth.

  Oh, boy.

  ‘Anyway, am I still on the team, then?’ she asked, trying to keep a work focus as the waiter brought their food—a Thai chicken salad for herself and steak for Declan.

  In between bites of the most succulent lemongrass-marinated chicken she’d ever tasted she chatted on.

  ‘Do I meet your extremely high standards?’

  ‘I guess I can put up with you. You seem to have exemplary surgical skills and an uncanny knack of knowing what I need even before I do. Which is weird...but I can live with it.’ His mouth twitched. ‘So we do indeed have an early start tomorrow. I want to check in on Safia before our surgery list starts—make sure she’s coping with the pain and the new dressings. Then we’re over at the Hunter Clinic to review a couple of private clients in the afternoon. Somewhere in between you can regale the team again with your exploits in Sydney.’

  Her cheeks remained heated. ‘I’m sorry about that. I don’t usually talk about my private life in the middle of an operation.’

  ‘That’s a very good policy to adopt. There’s a wicked gossip machine here and it can get you into all kinds of trouble. I find it’s best to try to keep a private life well away from work. It stops things getting messy.’

  ‘And who needs messy?’

  Messy didn’t begin to describe her marriage—it had started out so beautiful, so...naive. Messy had only begun somewhere about the time she’d determined she was going to study full-time, and messy had certainly come to full iridescent bloom at the funeral service.

  She gave Declan a tight smile. He was renowned for keeping his relationships clinical. Short. Uncomplicated. And if ever she was going to have sex again that was her game plan too—but he definitely didn’t figure in her picture of casual sex partner. Sleeping with the boss would be messy and then some.

  She knew better too than to get into a conversation about anything other than work, but she’d muddied things by blurting out details of her life in the middle of an operation. She really did need to make sure he knew that kiss had been fully consensual, and had nothing to do with her memories of Rob or loneliness. And that it wouldn’t happen again.

  ‘I like to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. My focus is wholly on my job and I can’t see that changing any time soon.’ She took a large drink of wine and steadied herself. ‘I should tell you, though, just to be clear, that my husband died.’

  She could say the whole sentence now without the catch in her voice. She’d come a very long way.

  Declan’s eyes widened and he put his glass down. ‘Oh, God, I never thought... Divorce, perhaps. Separation. What the hell happened?’

  ‘He was killed in action in Afghanistan. Full military honours funeral—quite the hero.’ She fought back the rising feelings of guilt, loss and sheer disbelief that had rocked through her for so long. This new start of hers included leaving the sadness behind too. Although that was so much harder to achieve than she’d thought.

  ‘So he was in the army too?’

  ‘Yes. I spent the best part of my teens rebelling against it, but ended up marrying into the firm after all. It was all I ever knew, really. I was very young—too young at eighteen—and I wanted the whole wedding fairytale. Oh, and a career and a family too. Just like every other girl I know.’

  She thought back to the struggles they’d both had adjusting to married life, reasserting their individual dreams and trying to mesh them somehow so they could both be fulfilled and happy. She’d wanted a place where she could belong. Finally. Truth was she hadn’t found it with Rob either.

  Declan’s hand covered hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Kara. How long ago did he die?’

  ‘Eighteen months.’

  He did the maths. ‘So the hospital ball must have been close to—?’

  ‘The year anniversary. Yes.’ She drew her hand away from his and watched him frown. She didn’t want his pity or his sympathy; she just wanted to clear the air. Then she could move on. Again. ‘But I think I know where you’re going with this... Rob dying was devastating, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same again, but that kiss you and I shared had nothing to do with him. Seriously.’

  Declan ran his fingers across his scalp. There were times when she knew exactly what he was thinking. There were times too when he became closed-off and distant. Right now she wasn’t sure what he was thinking at all.

  ‘Yes, Kara, about that kiss...’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FINALLY THAT PARTICULAR ghoul was out of its box. Its spectre had hung over them for the best part of twenty-four hours. Or, in reality, six months.

  As she put her knife and fork down and sat back in her chair the shadows under Kara’s eyes melted away a little. ‘It was a mistake,’ she asserted.

  ‘Hmm...’ Declan disagreed with her. ‘Losing your car keys is a mistake. Getting drunk and disorderly is a mistake. Kissing someone like that is no mistake.’

  ‘Well, okay, it was just downright foolish. And it can never happen again.’

  ‘No.’

  But, heck, he wanted it to—even now. Even after hearing about the heartbreak she’d been through. She was over the death of her husband? The army hero? Yeah, right. Declan knew that loss never left you; the pain dimmed over time, sure, but it still ached in your bones, resurfaced at moments you didn’t expect. It snatched clean away the ability to be carefree and left a distrust that life could ever be the same.

  But she was clear that their kiss and her mourning her husband’s death were separate—perhaps that was what she wanted to believe.

  That night at the ball she’d b
een soft and yet sharp in his arms, vulnerable and yet defiant as she’d laughed and joked and drunk and danced. And very, very sexy. There were layers to her—a fractured beauty about her that intrigued him.

  He didn’t know how to react to this. Was it wrong to want her after everything she’d been through?

  It would be wrong to follow through, he decided—she’d been hurt enough, and he wasn’t the kind of man to give her what she needed. But even so he ached to finish what they’d started. The more time he spent with her the more he wanted to kiss her again. And again. To take things to their natural conclusion—bed. Because he could do that very easily.

  It was the rest of it—the promises and commitment, the love he couldn’t do. After the heartbreak he’d seen his mother go through he would never make himself weak and vulnerable—never leave his heart open to such hurt.

  So he usually had fun with women who were on the same page as him. Not women who had already had one long-term, this-is-for-life relationship and who clearly deserved another. With the right man. Not him.

  ‘No. You’re right. It can’t happen again.’ That was the right thing to do. The sensible part of his brain cheered from the sidelines.

  She flicked her hand nonchalantly. ‘We have to work together.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re my boss.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And...’ Her eyebrows knotted. She obviously couldn’t think of another reason why they shouldn’t kiss again.

  Even though he thought he might be able to persuade her to the contrary, he put his own wants aside. ‘And I don’t do relationships. And you just came out of one.’

  ‘Hardly. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘You’re still hurting. That much is obvious.’

  ‘I’m not. But you don’t have to convince me, you know. I do get it. We’re not doing anything again.’

  She looked stung by his words.

  ‘And, yes, Rob’s death knocked me for six, that’s for sure, but I am in control of my emotions now. I was totally in control back then at the ball too.’

  ‘Knocking back shots was fully in control? Man, I’d love to see you let loose.’ She’d been intent on getting wasted and had invited him to join her. Which he had done quite happily, until... ‘So why kiss me then run away?’

  ‘Let’s just say that in a dim attempt to forget what the occasion was—i.e. the anniversary of Rob’s death—I had decided tequila would be the memory-eraser of choice. And I was having a jolly time. Great company.’ She winked. ‘But suddenly, in a blinding flash of sobriety, I realised that instead of impressing my new bosses I was snogging one of them. And that anything more would be a really bad idea.’ Finally her mouth curved into a smile and she pointed at him. ‘You were a bad idea.’

  Still no mention of the sizzling static that had crackled between them. The same sizzle that snapped in the air between them now, like a firecracker.

  Kiss me.

  Oh, yes, he wanted to. ‘I was a bad idea? That’s new.’

  The smile played along her lips as her eyes brightened. ‘Well, you’ve got to be open to new experiences, Declan. That’s how we grow as people.’

  ‘Oh, and we have a comedian in the building. Very clever, Ms Stephens.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Is your ego having trouble reconciling that you weren’t who I wanted to spend the rest of that night with?’

  ‘My ego is thoroughly intact...’ He leaned towards her, unable to resist the allure of that smile. ‘Because I don’t believe you. You want to know what I think?’

  ‘Not really,’ she said

  She was smirking in that sarcastic way girls had that was strangely sexy and infuriating at the same time. If she’d been one of his sisters he’d have been hard pushed not to tap her cute ass.

  ‘Oh, do go on. The suspense is killing me.’

  ‘I think you wanted that kiss as much as I did. And that you wonder just what might have happened...’

  ‘I know exactly what would have happened.’

  And he could see that she was heading the same way right now too. They both were. Dangerous enough for a fledgling work team. Even more so for a woman whose heart had been shattered and for a man who had no heart left to give. So what the hell his wayward mouth was doing, flirting and teasing, he didn’t know.

  But he just couldn’t help it. ‘You never thought about a re-run?’

  ‘Never.’

  Her eyes met his and despite her words to the contrary the truth shimmered there in pupils as green as the fields back home.

  Home. Reality hit. ‘Okay, we should probably be going. Have you finished? Where do you live? I’ll give you a lift back.’

  ‘Shepherds Bush.’

  She told him the address and for a moment he thought about asking her who else lived there. Did she have flatmates? Was she on her own? Did she need company? He wasn’t used to dropping and running. He was used to the sweet magic of commitment-free sex and the unspoken agreement that it was a one-night thing. But not pushing Kara for anything more felt respectful, right...and way out of his comfort zone. It seemed there were a lot of things about this Aussie whirlwind that sent him off-kilter.

  He led her out, helped her on with the helmet, watched as she again sheathed her body in his jacket, washing it in her own sweet perfume. He climbed onto his seat and held his breath as she settled in behind him. This time she didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his waist.

  Many times he’d given rides to his sisters and their friends, to colleagues and to dates. Many times a woman had wrapped her hands around his waist but he had never felt so twitchy and so hot. Damned hot.

  Kara’s legs straddled his back. Those shoes either side of his bike were like some goddamned teenage fantasy. Her breathing was sketchy and shallow, her heat fused to his skin and his hormones hit red alert. Gripping the handlebars as if his life depended on them, he accelerated into the night-time traffic, hoping that the brief journey and the night air would cool things down.

  No such luck. When he pulled up outside her apartment his gut swirled with a mixture of relief and regret. Laughing, she grabbed his hand and wiggled off the seat, rocking slightly on those take-me-to-bed heels as she straightened up.

  So she didn’t have to struggle further, he unclipped her helmet and brushed down her hair. The kind of thing he’d do any time for Niamh or Roisin. But the way his groin tightened at Kara’s sexy smile of thanks was anything but brotherly.

  After he’d removed his own helmet he ventured a question that he hoped she’d refuse. He needed to get away, and fast. ‘Do you want me to come up with you, or wait here until you’re safely inside?’

  ‘Thanks, Declan, but you go home. I can manage. I’m a big girl now.’ She found a key in her bag and paused on the steps up to the grandiose Georgian facade of newly refurbished apartments. ‘Thanks heaps for the meal and the bike ride. It was fun.’

  ‘No problem. See you tomorrow. Nice and early.’

  He made himself turn around, forced the next few steps away from her, but when he reached his motorbike he felt the soft weight of her hand on his shoulder.

  Caught the hitch in her breath.

  Heard her whisper once more. ‘Kiss me...’

  * * *

  ‘Kara...’

  Her name on his lips sent hot sensations skittering through her abdomen and down her shaking legs. God knew what she was saying or doing, but she couldn’t let him go without tasting him again. Could not breathe him in, feel the pressure of his body between her legs on that motorbike, could not hold him tight against her and then not feel that mouth on hers.

  She’d lied. She’d thought about a re-run of that kiss too many times to count. And now she was going to make it happen. Because if she didn’t she might just die. Was it possibl
e to die of desire?

  He turned, his look of shock similar to the way he’d reacted to her at the ball. The message in his heated pupils was the same too.

  He palmed her cheek and smiled. ‘What happened to never again?’

  ‘Never say never.’

  Her hands found their way to his jacket collar as she lifted her mouth to his before her courage left her. For a moment she thought he was going to resist or reject her, that maybe she’d read all those signs woefully wrong, but then he pressed his lips against hers, his hands framing her face, his touch heart-meltingly tender.

  He tasted of something exciting, of adventure, and of a mysterious heat that seeped into her skin. This was nothing like the kiss they’d shared at the ball—this was deeper, sexier and filled with six months’ worth of wishing, of relentless holding back and scorching dreams.

  ‘God, Kara.’

  His hands ran down her back as he pressed against her, his heart beating a raging tattoo that matched every beat of hers. And even when she knew this was the most foolish thing to do she pressed harder against him. Even when she knew that this was going nowhere she slid her tongue into his mouth, heard the groan in his throat, smiled as his breathing quickened.

  She brushed her foot against his leg and he groaned again, in that deep voice that reached into her insides and stroked. ‘Those are the sexiest damned shoes I have ever seen. Whatever happens, do not take them off.’

  ‘Aye-aye, sir.’ She wiggled against his hips, leaving him in no doubt as to her intentions.

  The energy around them was supercharged. The kiss became hotter and more urgent. It was the kind of kiss that you searched for the whole of your life and rarely did you ever find it. Unexpected, exciting. Perfect.

  She ran her fingers over his back, down to the waistband of his jeans, and pulled him closer, arcing her body to fit to his, feeling the swell of hardness between them. His mouth was on her neck now, tracing a soft trail to her shoulder, nibbling, teasing, biting.

  Her fingers bunched in that scruffy mop of hair as her breasts pressed against him, her nipples hardening as they brushed against his body. Sensation after sensation rippled through her as his hand swept across her ribs, over her bra. Under her bra. Right there on the city street. And then he was sitting her on the motorbike, steadying himself in front of her, his legs straddling hers.