THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT...

by Scarlet Wilson

  She’d heard miraculous stories before about premature twins being reunited in the same special-care cot and the baby that had been expected to die had made an unlikely recovery.

  She herself had been badly injured in the car accident, almost unconscious. But when it had become apparent that Isabel was going to die, an experienced nurse had insisted her trolley be pulled in next to her sister’s. Then she’d lifted Isabel’s hand to let Callie hold it as her sister’s life had slipped away.

  It had been the worst moment in Callie’s life. If she hadn’t been going straight to Theatre, they would have had to sedate her.

  But now, with the benefit of hindsight, it was one of her most precious and treasured memories. She’d been able to say things to Isabel that she might never otherwise have had the chance to say. Even though she realized Isabel had probably not heard her, it had still given her comfort. It had also meant the world to her parents, who hadn’t been able to make it to the hospital in time to see their daughter before she’d died.

  So Sawyer’s words and understanding meant more to her than she could ever possibly reveal.

  Dan and Sawyer were already striding down the corridor, organizing the transfers from the ambulances. Staff were streaming past, carrying boxes that were systematically being unpacked into cupboards.

  Callie walked back out and watched the rest of the people being shown into the other building, carrying their belongings with them. One of the planners came up and handed her a large plan of the building, complete with names assigned to every room. “Thought you’d need this, Callie.”

  She nodded as she looked over the plan, a smile crossing her face when she assimilated the sleeping arrangements. “We don’t seem to have adequate laundry facilities.” She lifted her head to the planner, who consulted his list and shook his head. “We need to get right on that. In the case of smallpox, laundry can be a risk. It can carry contaminated fluids. We need to make arrangements for the laundry to be put in biohazard bags and autoclaved.” The planner scribbled furiously then walked away.

  She felt Sawyer’s hand on her shoulder. “Our home for the next, what, seventeen days?”

  “Sixteen,” she said firmly. “We’ve already done the first day.” She gave a little smile. “Think you can stand me for that long?”

  “I might be forced to give you a haircut.”

  “Ditto.”

  He jerked back a little. “Isn’t that some crazy quote from a romance movie?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t watch romance movies. I’m more an action girl myself.”

  “Really?” There was distinct tone of disbelief in his voice.

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head. “Just when I think I know you, even a little, you say something to surprise me.”

  “That I like action movies? If that surprises you, you’ve led a pretty sheltered life.” She realized the stupidity of her words as soon as they left her mouth. But it was too late. They were out there.

  Sawyer didn’t react. He just pulled out some equipment from the back of one of the ambulances and gave her a weak smile on the way past.

  She was cringing inside. A man whose wife had died on a DPA mission had obviously never led a sheltered life. How could she possibly last another sixteen days around him without making an idiot of herself?

  He turned back to face her, his expression unreadable. “What about Alison? Did everything work out okay?”

  So it was back to business. A few seconds of personal chat that she’d just ruined. She’d only herself to blame. She forced a smile onto her face. “I think in a few hours we’ll all wish we were Alison.”

  “How come?”

  “We couldn’t bring her here because we couldn’t vaccinate her. The next option in the plan is to isolate the person at home. But Alison didn’t want to take the risk of being isolated at home in case she put her family at risk.”

  Sawyer nodded. He would know that being isolated at home would be the logical answer but not entirely practical. “So you had to think outside the plan? Interesting.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I bet that gave you a spasm. So what’s happened to her?” The grin that had vanished a few minutes ago had reappeared. Callie resisted the temptation of rising to the bait.

  “It seems that somebody in the DPA budget office was in a nice mood. They’ve rented out an entire boutique hotel for the next fortnight until we’re sure she’s symptom-free. Alison will be living in the lap of luxury.”

  Sawyer’s response was instant. He shook his head. “Maybe to you or me. But not to her. Alison dotes on her kids. It will drive her crazy not to be with them for two weeks.”

  Callie tried not to grimace. She’d been thinking of the gorgeous surroundings, fabulous food, luxurious bedding and unlimited TV channels. She really hadn’t thought much past the idea of ordering room service every night.

  “I guess not,” she murmured, as she followed him down the corridor as he dumped some more supplies in the treatment room.

  “Let’s grab our stuff and dump it in our rooms.” They walked back outside and Sawyer lifted her rucksack and suit carrier from one of the vans. “Did you really travel this light? Or do you have a giant suitcase hidden somewhere?”

  She laughed. “I do have a suitcase, but it’s a carry-on.” She looked around her, “I’ve no idea where it is, though. What about you?”

  Sawyer lifted a polythene bag. “My worldly goods.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He shook his head. “I came to work to do a twelve-hour shift. I didn’t realize I should have packed for a fortnight.”

  “Wow. We’re really going to have to get you some clothes, aren’t we?” She started to laugh. “What about all your hair products? Won’t they need a suitcase all of their own?”

  “Cheeky!” She ducked as he flung his bag at her head. The contents spilled on the ground. Another pair of Converses, a T-shirt, a pair of ripped jeans, a pair of boxers and a bunched up pair of socks. She raised her eyebrows as she stuffed the contents back in the bag and lifted up one shoe. “Two pairs?”

  He shrugged. “That’s the good pair. The scruffy ones are work shoes.” She smiled at the kicked-in shoes she held in her hands. She wouldn’t even have worn them to paint a fence—and these were the good ones. “Nothing else?”

  “What? I wear scrubs at work all day. What else do I need?”

  “I hate to think. You got anything to sleep in?”

  “What kind of a question is that?”

  “The kind of question from a woman who’s sharing an apartment space, kitchen and bathroom with you.”

  Ever since she’d looked at the plan she’d felt nervous. Excited nervous, not scared nervous. Wondering what his reaction would be to the sleeping arrangements.

  “Why aren’t I sharing with Dan? Wouldn’t that have made more sense?”

  She nodded as they headed over to the building. “It does—and he’s sharing with us too, along with one of the other DPA doctors. Four people per apartment. But I guess they figured you’d be doing the opposite shifts from Dan. Doesn’t make sense for you to be working at the same time.”

  “Callie, Sawyer!”

  They turned their heads as one of the nurses shouted over to them.

  “We need you in the treatment facility. There’s a few patients with symptoms that need checking out.”

  They looked at each other and swiftly dumped their bags at the entrance.

  “Guess we can do this later,” Callie said flatly.

  His gaze met hers. “I guess we can.”

  There was something in the way he said it. The tone of his voice. The way his eyes held contact with hers. The way there was a hint of smile on his face. It sent a weird tingle down her spine.

  All of a sudden that excited ne
rvousness didn’t seem so odd after all.

  * * *

  Callie looked down at her map as they walked along the corridor. “Next left,” she said.

  It was late and they were both tired. Checking over a few symptoms had taken a lot longer than expected.

  Sawyer pushed open the plain white door with the number seven on the front. It opened into a large sitting room with white walls and red carpet and a sofa. It was much bigger than she’d expected. An open-plan kitchen stood at one end of the room with a door to another corridor at the bottom.

  Callie was a little shocked. It was much better than she had expected. “I thought it would be like student accommodation.” She gave a little shrug, “You know, kind of drab and definitely tiny.” She pressed her hand down on the comfortable sofa with matching cushions. “I guess not. Who do you think stayed here?”

  “Who cares?” Sawyer had made his way to the pristine white kitchen and started to rummage through a cardboard box sitting on one of the worktops. “Wonder where this came from? Gotta love those planners. I’m starving.” He emptied the contents onto the surface—milk, bread, butter, cereal. Callie automatically opened the door to the fridge and started depositing the perishable items inside.

  “Yes!” He punched his hand in the air as if he’d just won an award.

  “What is it?”

  “My favorites.” He pulled out a packet of chocolate cookies and ripped it open. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” He tilted his head at her as the cookie disappeared in two bites. “Who sorted all this stuff out? Was it Alison?” He looked back in the box. “Because I swear, if I find a tuna pizza in here I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” She swatted his arm. She almost felt relieved. He was back to his relaxed self again. The way she preferred him. The way he was when he didn’t feel as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Along with two very sick kids.

  He squinted. “It’s a bit bright in here, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes swept around the unexplored apartment again. It was clear neither of their other colleagues had found their way here yet. She nodded and flicked the overhead light back off, plunging them back into darkness. She walked over and pulled the curtain at the window, which looked onto the rest of the industrial site. Dim light flooded through the kitchen. The moon was high in the dark sky outside and the external lights surrounding the buildings let a little more light into the room.

  It was nice. Kind of private.

  Sawyer flicked the switch on the kettle. “A coffee pot and some decent beans obviously weren’t on the inventory.”

  “And that’ll be my fault, will it?” In the dim light Sawyer didn’t seem anywhere as near as intimidating as before.

  Maybe that was what he needed. To be out of the hospital environment and the things he was obviously struggling with. Maybe this—an environment like someone’s home—made him feel more chilled. More easy to be around.

  Or maybe she was remembering the last time they’d been in a darkened room together. Because she was feeling herself drawn towards him, her feet on autopilot.

  She was up close, just under his chin. He turned back round and gave a little start at her close proximity. Was she reading this all wrong?

  But from the lazy smile that came across his face she obviously wasn’t.

  He leaned one elbow on the counter top. “Did I say it was your fault?” He was so close that his breath warmed her cheeks.

  “You didn’t have to, but it always seems that way.”

  He lifted his hand and rested it gently on her hip. “Maybe you’re just a little too uptight. Maybe you need to stop following the rule book all the time.” He moved forward in the darkness, his lips brushing against her ear. “Maybe—just maybe—you need to learn to relax a little.”

  It was the way he said it. His tone of voice. She hadn’t read anything wrong.

  She was reading everything perfectly. He thought she couldn’t throw the rule book away? Even for a second?

  Under normal circumstances she would have been horrified. But nothing about this was normal. And nothing about how she felt drawn to this man was normal.

  Maybe for just five minutes she could follow her own rules. Not the ones that felt safe.

  She looked at him steadily in the dim light. “Maybe. I was just thinking the same thing about you. Maybe you need to learn to relax too,” she whispered.

  For a second nothing happened. Her breath felt caught in her chest. Her skin prickled. What would he do?

  It was almost as if she could see him thinking, weighing up things in his mind. Had she just made a huge mistake? The wait was killing her.

  Then she felt it—a warm hand slipping into hers. It electrified her skin. He pulled her over towards the sofa and sat. He tugged her down next to him, the moonlight spilling over them both.

  Maybe she should feel a little intimidated by how close they were. If she leaned forward right now she could brush her nose against his. But she didn’t feel intimidated at all. She didn’t feel they were close enough.

  In the dim moonlight and up this close she had her best-ever view of his pale green eyes. She’d seen a previous stone that color once in a tiny boutique jeweler. It was called paraiba tourmaline and she’d never seen one again. Which was a pity because it was the exact color of his eyes. And she could see the little lines all around the corners of his eyes. Were they laughter lines? Or were they from the permanent frown that he usually saved for her?

  His shaggy brown hair didn’t annoy her nearly so much when she had a close-up view. She kind of liked it. In fact, for a split second she could see her fingers running through it in the midst of...

  She shook that thought from her mind, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. Wow. Where had that come from?

  But she didn’t feel embarrassed. She didn’t feel awkward. The heat emanating from his body was warming hers. And she was enjoying it. No matter how crazy that was.

  When had been the last time she’d been in this position? This close to a man? It must have been over a year ago.

  Harry. Like all the others, he hadn’t worked out either. It wasn’t that there had been anything wrong with him. He had been kind, handsome, considerate. Just what any girl would want. But she just hadn’t connected with him. Hadn’t been able to let herself go enough to plan ahead for a future with him in it. Because that would have meant letting him in. Telling him everything he’d needed to know. And she hadn’t been there yet.

  She hadn’t been ready to share.

  So what was so different about Sawyer?

  Was it that he challenged her to let the rule book go? Was it that he pushed her to do better?

  Or was it that he’d lived through the pain of loss himself? Maybe he would understand in a way that no one else could? Maybe that was the truth of why she was drawn to him—a fellow lost soul.

  He moved. The shadows had gone from his eyes and there was no barrier between them—no shutters.

  Callie’s stomach was in a little knot. Was he finally letting down his guard? Would he actually talk to her about what had happened?

  His hand came down on her the side of her leg. His warm hand instantly connected, shooting warmth through her thin scrub trousers.

  “So, Callie, are you going to tell me?”

  She turned to face him. His hand was still on her leg but now she’d angled her body around to face his so they were almost nose to nose.

  “About what happened. To your leg.”

  This was it the moment she should pull away. The time for her to retreat into herself and hide away from the rest of the world.

  She’d done it before. It was automatic. It was so easy.

  Her hands moved, up around his neck.

  She was about to take the biggest step she’d ever taken.
>
  “Not now. Maybe later.”

  Four words. That was all.

  But it felt like a giant leap forward.

  It was the first time she’d ever even considered telling someone about what had happened.

  He could never know the strength that had taken.

  She was sure she started to hold her breath. She believe how distracted she was right now. She was sure he must think her a little crazy.

  But she didn’t have time to think of any of these things.

  Because she was kissing Sawyer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CALLIE WASN’T QUITE sure who made the first move. She didn’t think it was her, but then again she didn’t think it was him. It was almost as if they read each other’s minds and moved simultaneously.

  There was no light-hearted kissing. No nibbling. Nothing gentle. Nothing delicate.

  From the second their lips locked there were no holds barred. His lips devoured hers, fully, passionately without a moment’s hesitation. And she liked it.

  She could feel the scrape of his emerging bristles on his chin against her skin, abrading it as they kissed. Their teeth clashed and they both ignored it, his hand pressing firmly on her back to bring her even closer.

  She wanted to run her hands over his body, across his chest and down his back. Everything about her was acting on instinct. The one thing she wasn’t used to.

  His kisses moved. Down her neck, along her throat. Then he groaned and shifted position, pushing her onto her back on the sofa and slowly moving on top of her. He pressed her arms above her head, straddling her body, and starting work on her neck again.

  She was gasping now, willing him to go lower. Itching to let her hands feel his skin under her palms.

  She wrenched one of her hands free and grabbed hold of his hair, pulling his head back up towards her and capturing his lips again. She loved the feel of them. She loved the way he kissed her.