Locked Down with the Army Doc

by Scarlet Wilson

  People around her were openmouthed. Then slowly, but surely, applause started throughout the room. Within a few seconds it gathered pace and Amber couldn’t help but smile as she glanced at the nods of approval and the conversations starting around her.

  “Do you think we should get it?”

  “It would be perfect for paramedics.”

  “What an investment opportunity…”

  The professor crossed the stage again, shaking Jack’s hand enthusiastically. He then launched into the next introduction. “Our next speaker is a doctor from the Disease Prevention Agency.”

  Amber felt a wave of panic.

  “Amber Berkeley has been working there for the last five years. She specializes in meningitis and will be presenting some of the latest research into emerging strains. Please welcome Dr. Amber Berkeley.”

  Darn it. She stood up quickly. She’d come in looking for distraction and Jack Campbell had certainly met the criteria. Usually she would spend the five minutes before a presentation going over things in her head and taking some time to do controlled breathing. But she hadn’t even thought about the presentation the whole time she’d been in here. Somehow her attention had all been focused on her mystery almost-suitor from last night.

  She walked smartly down the auditorium, climbing the steps and shaking the professor’s hand. Her heart was thudding so loudly she almost expected everyone else to hear it.

  She glanced at Jack, who was giving her an amused look. Rat fink. Could he sense her panic? “Dr. Berkeley,” he said with a nod of his head as the corners of his lips turned upward.

  “Dr. Campbell,” she answered as coolly as she could, trying not to take in how he filled out his army fatigues. She was sure he could have worn his more formal uniform for an event like this, but somehow the fatigues suited him—made him look more like Jack.

  Her hands were shaking slightly as she set them on the podium, waiting for the professor and Jack to leave the stage. She tried to still her thoughts and let her professional face slide into place. She’d always been bothered with nerves. It was weird. Put her in a clinical situation—even an epidemic—and she could deal with the pandemonium of that no problem. Put her in a classroom setting, or even an interview setting, and her heart would race at a million miles an hour, making her thoughts incoherent and her words even worse. She’d had to work at this. She’d had to work hard.

  She took a few deep and steadying breaths. Truth was, she could do this presentation in her sleep. She knew the information inside out. But could she present with the commitment and compassion that Jack just had? He was a hard act to follow.

  A horrible queasiness came over her. That familiar feeling of not being good enough. The way she’d constantly tried to prove herself to her father by getting perfect grades, being the first in her class, qualifying for med school—all just to gain a second of his attention. Those memories ran deep—even though her father was gone. She hated feeling this way. And as she looked out over the sea of expectant faces, she felt her anger spike.

  She looked up as Jack descended the stairs to her right. At the last possible second he turned his head, gave her a cheeky grin and winked at her. Winked at her.

  A little spurt of adrenaline raced through her body. The cheek. Right now, she could cheerfully punch him. Anything for an outlet to the bubbling frustration she was feeling inside.

  She lifted her head and looked out at the still-waiting audience. She could do this. She could. She could be good enough. She could deliver her presentation with the same passion and commitment as he had. She would deal with Jack Campbell later. She tilted her chin upward and plastered her most professional smile on her face. “Thank you so much for inviting me here today…”

  *

  So her name was Amber Berkeley. It suited her. A tiny bit quirky, with a hint of grace.

  He’d had no idea she was a speaker at the conference. That was the thing about not sharing names and trying to be a little mysterious—it made you miss out on other things.

  He’d left the stage and stood at the back of the auditorium listening to her. Her nerves were clearly evident. Her hands had been shaking and she’d been white as a ghost as she’d stepped up to the podium. Last night she’d been brimming with casual confidence. He’d liked that better.

  But as he’d stood and watched, the woman he’d met last night had slowly emerged. It was clear she knew and understood her subject matter. She spoke eloquently about meningitis and its spread, the way that the different viruses adapted and changed and the problems that could cause. He was impressed with the way she handled random questions that were thrown at her about the new emerging types of meningitis and the difficulties in diagnosing quickly enough for appropriate treatment.

  He’d learned something new. And as she stepped down from the podium and walked back up the aisle toward him, he waited for her at the door, pushing it open as she approached.

  The light in the foyer was bright compared to the auditorium. She stepped outside, blinked for a few seconds then unfastened her jacket and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “You winked at me, you cheeky…” She left the last word missing.

  “Did I?” He raised his eyebrows.

  She shook her head and sagged against the wall for a second. “Thank goodness that’s over.”

  He looked surprised. “You were good. What on earth were you worried about?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Who said I was worried?”

  “Do your hands normally shake?”

  Her tongue was stuck firmly inside her cheek. She waited a second before replying, then pulled her shoulders back and started to walk past him. “For that, you owe me breakfast. I couldn’t eat anything earlier but right now I could probably eat the entire contents of the kitchen.”

  He held his arm out, gesturing toward the nearby hotel restaurant, trying not to fixate on the swing of her hips in that skirt. “Your wish is my command.” Then he gave a little smile. “I seem to buy you a lot of food.”

  She tutted and shook her head as she walked past him, letting one of the waiters show them to a table looking out over the Pacific Ocean. The wind had whipped up outside, bringing the earlier dark clouds closer and making all the parasols on the beach shake.

  Amber glanced outside. “What’s that all about? I came here for sunshine and good weather.”

  Jack shrugged. “Almost looks like a day in Scotland instead of Hawaii. Must just be in for a bit of bad weather.”

  Amber sat down quickly as the waiter showed them to a table. She didn’t hesitate to order. “Can I have coffee, please? Not just a cup—a whole pot. And some eggs, sunny-side up, and some rye toast, please.”

  Jack gave a nod and tried not to smile again. “I’ll have what she’s having—and some orange juice, please.” He waited until the waiter had left. “So, you didn’t want to hear the next speaker?”

  She laid her hand on her stomach. “Are you kidding? If I’d stayed in there I’m sure all five hundred delegates would have heard my stomach rumbling. I had to eat.”

  Her hair was tamer today, tied back in a slick ponytail instead of piled haphazardly on top of her head. The pink tips were just visible when she turned her head. The simple black suit and white shirt were elegant, but as they sat at the table, she pulled off her jacket and rolled up her shirtsleeves midway, revealing a host of gold bangles.

  “You ducked out on me.”

  She looked up quickly. For the briefest of seconds she looked a bit startled, but he could almost see her natural demeanor settling back into place. “How do you know I ducked out? You were too busy snoring.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t snore. You, however…”

  “You never told me you were a doctor.” The words were almost accusing.

  “Neither did you.”

  For a second she didn’t speak. It was almost like a Mexican standoff.

  He could see her swallow, and then she gave him a haughty stare. “I don�
�t mix with fellow doctors.”

  Jack leaned forward. “What does that mean?” He held out his hands. “And what do you call this?”

  “This,” she said firmly, “is breakfast. Breakfast is fine.”

  He kept his elbows on the table, wondering if he could lean even closer. “Oh, so I can buy you food. But you can’t spend the night with me?” He wanted to laugh out loud. She sounded so uptight, and that seemed a total turnaround from the woman he’d met last night.

  But now he was curious. “So, what exactly is wrong with doctors? After all, you’re one.”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “I know. It’s just…” He could see her try to find the words. “It’s just that I don’t like to mix work with…” She winced.

  “Pleasure?” He couldn’t resist.

  She closed her eyes for a second.

  He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “So, if I’d told you last night in the bar I was a doctor, you wouldn’t have come back to my room with me?”

  She bit her bottom lip. He could tell she knew she was about to be challenged.

  “Well, yes.”

  He held open his arms. “It’s a conference full of medical professionals. The hotel is full of them. Who did you think you might meet in the bar?”

  She shrugged. “There’s more than one conference on in this hotel. I thought you were maybe one of those—” she waggled her hand “—business, economic-type guys.”

  He let out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. From the second he’d started studying medicine it had felt as if he practically had doctor stamped on his forehead. He put his hand on his chest. “Me? You honestly thought I was some kind of accountant, computer, business-type geek?” He shook his head. “Oh, my army colleagues would just love that.”

  She looked distinctly uncomfortable and he tried to rein in his amusement.

  “Why are you getting yourself so worked up? Nothing happened. You know it didn’t.” He gave her a kind of sideways glance. “Maybe…if things had been different and jet lag hadn’t been involved then we could be having an entirely different conversation today.”

  He was probably pushing things. But it was true. There had been a spark between them last night. He wouldn’t let her try and deny it.

  Her face was pinched; there were faint wrinkles along her brow. He couldn’t actually believe it. She really, really did have an issue with the fact he was a doctor.

  He’d worked with colleagues in the past who didn’t like to mix work with relationships. It wasn’t so unheard of. Maybe if he’d adopted that rule he wouldn’t have ended up losing someone. He wouldn’t have felt the need to shut himself off entirely from the rest of the world.

  But even as he had that thought he knew it was ridiculous. Relationship or not, they would still both have been posted to Afghanistan. He’d been tortured with what-ifs for a long time before he realized nothing would have changed.

  He saw a glimmer of something in Amber’s blue eyes. A spark at his words. Baiting her was easy.

  She flung her paper napkin at him. “No way.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Purely because I’m a doctor?”

  She neglected to answer that part of the question and gave him a long stare. “Let’s just say had you been some mysterious businessman…” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. “It’s a bit insulting, really.”

  Was she changing tack? He mirrored her actions and leaned back in his chair. “What is?”

  “A man inviting you back to his room, then promptly falling asleep and ignoring you.”

  He squirmed. When he’d woken up this morning he’d cringed. He remembered sitting up in the bed together to eat their second burger and fries. He also remembered watching some old movie with her and laughing along at the lines. And he could just about remember a warm body wrapped around his in the middle of the night. He’d tried not to remember the fact it had felt good because that flooded him with things he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  He lifted his hands. “Guilty as charged. Sorry. It was the jet lag.” He put his elbow on the table and leaned a little closer. “But now? Jet lag is gone. Let’s start again.”

  Even though she’d just tried to joke with him, she still looked the tiniest bit uncomfortable. She obviously took her “no fraternization with other medics” rule seriously. He couldn’t help but be curious.

  He waved his hand. “Relax, Amber. This is just breakfast. Nothing more. Nothing less. What do you have against fellow doctors, anyway?”

  She didn’t meet his gaze; she just sucked in a breath as her fingers toyed with the cutlery on the table. “Let’s just say I lived in an environment with an absentee medic who was obsessed with his work. As a child I had no choice. As an adult, it’s not a situation I ever want to repeat.”

  He wanted to ask questions. He did. But somehow he got the impression it wasn’t really the time. He was curious about this woman. And after two years, that was a first for him—one that he couldn’t quite understand.

  The waiter appeared with the coffee and filled up their cups. Jack decided to take things back to neutral territory. “You might have told me you were a speaker.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You might have told me you were starting off the conference.” She gave a thoughtful nod. “You were good. I was impressed.” Her eyes ran up and down his uniform. “I can’t believe I thought you were at the business conference. I should have guessed. Your suit didn’t quite fit perfectly—and, let’s face it, those guys probably spend on their suits what I would on a car. I should have guessed you were an army guy. I’m still surprised you didn’t mention it.”

  “I’ll try not to be insulted by the suit comment—because you’re right. I much prefer to drive a reliable car than buy a fancy suit. If you want to split hairs, you didn’t mention you worked for the Disease Prevention Agency. Aren’t you guys supposed to walk about in giant space suits?” He grinned and nodded his head. “Now I understand the comments at the bar about the peanuts.”

  She shuddered. “You have no idea what we’ve found on bar snacks.”

  He laughed as he kept shaking his head. “And I don’t want you to tell me.” This was better. This was more what he wanted. He could gradually see the tension around her neck and shoulders start to ease.

  The waiter appeared with their eggs and toast, and Amber leaned over the plate and inhaled. “Oh, delicious. And just what I need.”

  She ate for a few minutes then looked back up at him. “Your wound dressing. It looks good. How on earth did you discover the science behind it?”

  Jack was spreading butter on his toast. “There’s been quite a bit of work on clot-forming dressings. My problem was they just didn’t work quickly enough for the situations we were in. But—” he gave her a smile; she was watching him with those big blue eyes “—the Internet is a wonderful thing. I contacted a few people who’d led other studies and asked if we could try a combination. I knew the specifics of what I really needed. I needed something so simple that it could be slapped on by anyone—and so quick acting it could stop bleeding within twenty seconds.”

  The glance she gave him was filled with admiration. “I heard people talking after you finished. They think you’re sitting on a gold mine.”

  Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It’s not about money,” he said quickly.

  Amber didn’t even blink, just kept staring at him with that careful gaze. “I know. I got that.”

  He picked at his eggs with his fork. “I know that for a lot of people medicine is a business. Britain isn’t like that. The army isn’t like that. Our health care is free—always has been and hopefully always will be. I’m not sure I can exist in a climate where every dressing gets counted and every profit margin looked at.”

  She took a sip of her coffee. “You’ve already been approached, haven’t you?”

  He bit the inside of his cheek, unsure of how much to tell her. Jack liked being straightforward. And from what little
he’d seen of Amber, she seemed to operate that way too. That thing on the stage had just been a wobble—he was sure.

  “Right from the beginning we had a contract arranged and a product license developed. It was developed during army time, so they have a part ownership, as do the original creators of the components.” He sighed. “I knew this could happen. As soon as I realized how good it was, I wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t end up being all about the money. That’s not why I did this—it’s not why we did this. And I know it’s good. I know it could save lives around the world, and that’s what I want it to do.”

  She tipped her head to the side and studied him for a few seconds. “I like that.” The color had finally returned to her cheeks and she seemed more relaxed.

  He gave her a smile. “Your presentation was good too. I know the basics about meningitis but not the rest. I had no idea just how quickly the strains were mutating.”

  She pushed her plate away. “Thank you. The presentation was important. I’m the only person here from the DPA this time, and I wanted to be sure that I gave a good impression.” Her fingers were still wrapped around her fork, which she was drumming lightly on the table. “Monitoring infectious diseases is all about good international working.” She let out a little laugh. “Let’s just say that some of our counterparts have been a bit reluctant to share information in the past. In a world of international travel it makes contact tracing interesting.”

  “Ouch.” Jack wrinkled his brow. He couldn’t imagine trying to contact trace across continents. It was bad enough on the few occasions he had to make an urgent call to a far-off relative, and that was with all the army resources at his disposal.

  He topped up his coffee. “Want anything else to eat?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’m done. Thank you for this.”

  She kept staring at him, with a hint of a smile around her lips. He waited a few seconds then couldn’t help himself.