Locked Down With The Army Doc: Locked Down with the Army Doc / The Brooding Surgeon's Baby Bombshell. Scarlet Wilson
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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.
“What?”
This was odd. It was the most relaxed he’d been around a woman for a while.
But he liked this woman’s sense of humor. He liked her sassiness. And he was curious about the hint of vulnerability he’d seen on the stage. Not that it had stopped her—she’d gone on to deliver an impressive talk.
And he couldn’t help but be curious about the No Doctor rule she’d obviously decided to follow.
There was a rumble outside and they both glanced out at the darkening and choppy ocean. “I thought Hawaii was supposed to be sunshine, sunshine and more sunshine.” He frowned.
“Not forgetting the killer surf waves,” she added as she kept her eyes on the ocean. “I think you were right. It looks like you brought Scotland’s weather with you.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, you wouldn’t go into the sea in Scotland when it looks like that. Even on a roasting hot day, the sea still feels like ten below zero. On a day like today? You’d be a frozen fish finger.”
She burst out laughing. “A what?”
He wrinkled his brow and drew a tiny rectangle on the table with his finger. “You know, cod or haddock, covered in bread crumbs. For kids. They’re kind of rectangular.”
“Oh...” She nodded. “You mean a fish stick.”
The wrinkles grew even deeper. “A fish stick? What’s a stick about it? It’s a rectangle.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, what’s a finger about it?”
He waved his hand in mock exasperation. “You Americans.”
“You Scots,” she countered just as quickly.
“Is this what we’re going to do?” He couldn’t help himself. He lowered his voice. The look she gave him through her thick lashes sent tingles across his skin.
“What do you mean?”
He gestured to the table. “Eat food and argue about words. We’re starting to be a habit.”
She glanced at her watch. “A habit? After less than twenty-four hours? Has to be a new world record.”
He leaned his head on his hand. He really should go back in to the auditorium