The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli
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added, ‘My parents are a little out there, if you know what I mean.’
‘I would never have guessed.’
I couldn’t help a short laugh escaping. ‘I’m ultraconservative compared to them. At least I turn up at work fully clothed.’
His eyes darkened as they meshed with mine. ‘What time’s your break?’
I glanced at my watch. ‘Ten minutes ago.’
He took my elbow with a firm but surprisingly gentle hand. ‘Come on. Boss’s orders. Caffeine and sugar.’
We took our coffee and a packet of chocolate biscuits to his office. I got the feeling this was his way of calling a truce. He pulled out his office chair for me to sit on. ‘Here, you play the boss for a while. Tell me how you would do things around here if you were me.’
I sat on his chair but I’m so short my feet didn’t reach the floor. I tucked my ankles beneath its centre stand and hoped he wouldn’t notice. I took a sip of coffee and looked at him over the rim of my cup. He was sitting in the chair I’d used the last time, his features showing the signs of the stresses of his job.
It looked like he hadn’t shaved in over eighteen hours, his eyes had damson-coloured shadows beneath them, his hair was ruffled, as if he’d recently combed it with his fingers, and there were two lines down each side of his mouth I hadn’t noticed before. I knew for a fact he wasn’t on that evening because I’d checked. After the broom cupboard hideout I wasn’t taking any chances. He had worked day shifts for the last week, presumably so he could keep in closer touch with the hospital management staff while he ironed out the problems he’d inherited.
It made me wonder if he had anything outside work to distract him. A hobby or interest that gave him some respite from the human tragedy he dealt with day in, day out.
He was a dedicated workaholic. The type A personality who found it hard to be anything but task-oriented. Emotions were not to be trusted. It was facts and data and completing the job that motivated him. I knew from my study how important it was to search for balance. I’m not sure I had found it, given the way things had turned out between Andy and me, but at least I understood the dynamic.
I was starting to realise why Matt had taken such a stand with me on that first day. For a man who valued facts over feelings I must have come across as a complete nut job. He wanted the unit to be one of the best in the country, if not the world.
No wonder he had taken the line he had with me. I was like a loaded cannon to him. Someone who was unpredictable, perhaps even—in his opinion—unstable. I had some ground to make up to make him see me as the dedicated professional I was. Sure, I wore wacky clothes and did interesting things with my hair, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a competent and committed anaesthetist. I took my responsibility with patients seriously. I literally had their lives in my hands. I would never do anything to compromise their safety. I just had to convince Matt Bishop I wasn’t the airy-fairy flake he thought I was.
I put my coffee cup down. God knows I sure didn’t need the caffeine. My heart was already pounding as if I’d had a dozen espressos with an energy drink chaser. Matt had that sort of effect on me. ‘I’m sorry about the other day in your office,’ I said.
‘No apology necessary.’ He sat watching me with his steady, measuring gaze, his coffee cup cradled in his right hand, one ankle crossed over his knee.
I glanced longingly at the chocolate biscuits on the desk but I knew if I started on them I might not stop till the whole packet was gone. My parents banning sugar had had the unfortunate effect of making me a sugar binger. I could eat a box of chocolates in one sitting, especially if I was feeling down about myself. I just hoped my liver wasn’t going to hate me for it some time in the future.
Matt leaned forward and pushed the packet of biscuits closer. ‘Go on. One won’t hurt.’
I gave him a twisted smile as I took a biscuit out of the packet. ‘My mum does that.’
‘What?’
‘Reads minds.’
He smiled back. It relaxed his tired and drawn features and made me realise all over again how incredibly attractive he was. I looked at the biscuit in my hand rather than look at his mouth, as I was so tempted to do. All I could think of was how his mouth felt as it moved against mine, how his hands had felt, touching my body. How I wanted him to touch me again. How I wanted to feel his body inside mine, making me come apart with ecstasy.
I was shocked at my behaviour. Shocked and bewildered. If my life had gone according to plan I would now be married and trying for a baby. Instead, I was single and feverishly attracted to a man I had only met a matter of two weeks ago. It was like my body had hijacked my mind. It was acting on its own initiative, responding and sending subtle and some not-so-subtle signals to him that I was attracted to him and available. No wonder he had offered me an affair. I would have to try harder to disguise my reaction to him. Definitely no more getting close to him. And absolutely no touching. I would have to limit my time alone with him, keeping things on a professional basis at all times.
I took a small nibble of my biscuit and chewed and swallowed it, acutely conscious of his steady gaze resting on me.
‘You mentioned your parents are alternative,’ he said. ‘How alternative?’
‘They’re hippies,’ I said. ‘They both come from families with money, but for as long as I can remember they’ve moved from place to place around the country, following whatever lifestyle guru takes their fancy, or their money, or both.’
‘Not an easy way to spend your childhood.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Tell me about it. There’s only so much teasing or tofu a kid can take. But don’t get me wrong. My parents are really cool people. I love them dearly and I totally understand their desire to live an alternative lifestyle. They’re not the sort of people who could ever do the nine-to-five suburban thing. It’s just not the way I want to live my life.’
‘How did you cope, growing up?’
I gave him one of my sheepish looks. ‘I rebelled now and again.’
‘How?’
‘I became a closet carnivore.’
He laughed. ‘Wicked girl.’
I smiled back. He had such a nice laugh. Deep and rich and full-bodied, like a top-shelf wine. Seriously, I could get drunk on hearing it. ‘I can still taste my first steak,’ I said. ‘What an awesome moment that was. Jem and I used to sneak out at night, not to sleep with boys or drink alcohol, like normal girls did. We’d find a restaurant and indulge ourselves in a feast of mediumrare steak.’
He put his coffee cup on the desk, a smile still curving his lips. ‘Did your parents ever find out?’
‘Not so far.’ I licked the chocolate off my fingers. ‘I’m good at keeping secrets.’
‘Handy talent to have.’ There was a glint in his eye that made something in my stomach quiver like an unset jelly.
I looked away and buried my nose in my coffee cup. I couldn’t envisage how I was ever going to confess my folly. The only way I could think to wriggle out of it would be to put in my resignation and start over in a new hospital. It was the only way to save face. But the thought of resigning and reapplying somewhere else was daunting. I loved working at St Iggy’s. It was the first place I’d felt as if I belonged. I was part of a team that brought top-quality health care to the public, and the fact that I had—so far—been allowed to trial some alternative therapies was an added bonus.
I put my coffee cup down with a little clatter. ‘I’d better get back to work. Thanks for the coffee.’
‘You’re welcome.’
I walked to the door but before I could put my hand on the doorknob to open it his hand got there first. My hand brushed against his and I pulled it back as if I’d been zapped. His right