The Rebel Doc. Susan Carlisle
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she had to start melting it.
No.
It wasn’t going to happen. ‘You don’t have to worry about me. You’re here for your mum. I’ve got calls to make as it is—I need to check up on Joey.’
Busily stacking her files into a pile, she looked up at him. ‘Oh, yes. Let me know how he’s doing. And you’re going to miss your game. I feel very guilty.’
‘Don’t waste your energy. Stay where you are, you’re working. I can fix myself something.’
‘I feel guilty about that too. And about not getting enough work done. I’d planned to get through so much this weekend. I’ve just phoned the ward to see how Mum’s doing and the nurse said she was comfortable and asking for some breakfast.’ She walked through to the kitchen, flicked the heat under a stovetop coffeepot. Then turned to him, biting her bottom lip.
‘Matteo, how am I going to manage to work while I’m here? I know this sounds really mean and very selfish, but I need to be in London. And I need to be here for my mum. I can’t do both. How do people juggle these things?’
His eyebrows rose. ‘It’s very important, this sexual harassment case?’
‘It is to the three women making it. And to the guy who could lose his job and reputation if it turns out he’s been falsely accused—although I doubt it. It’s a delicate issue and I need to be there.’
‘Work, work, work. You have to learn to put yourself first. Put family first.’ God forgive him for that. Because when it came to family he chose not to be there too. ‘Is there anyone else who could fill in?’
The coffee fizzed and spluttered and she decanted it into two cups. ‘I have a junior, but he’s still very inexperienced. Becca’s my assistant, but I don’t really know her strengths as yet and this is too important to get wrong. I’d wanted to go through it all with her, have her watch how I do things. Besides, work is me. I am work. And that sounds really sad. But at least it’s clear cut. There’s nothing confusing about getting up every morning and heading in to the office. No room for anything else, like extraneous distractions.’
No room for a life. And that was the way he liked it too, although he was starting to wonder just what he was missing. He trotted out the line he gave his overworked junior staff. ‘Life’s all about the stuff that’s not work, too. No wonder you end up so strung out. Ivy, there is so much more, you just have to give yourself a chance. Couldn’t you postpone the case?’ When she didn’t answer he touched her arm. ‘Ivy? Couldn’t they put it off? How long do you think you need to be here?’
She shrugged. ‘You’re the doctor. How long does she need?’
‘You’re the daughter. Same question.’ It was a challenge that seemed to hit home, but she didn’t show that she understood his inference. It wasn’t his place to tell her what was important in her life. Mio Dio, who was he to judge?
Her smile was genuine. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a giant insufferable pain in the backside?’
‘All the time.’
‘Does it make a difference?’
He fluttered his eyelashes at her. ‘What do you think?’
‘That you make me crazy.’ She threw her hands in the air in an exasperated gesture that was more Italian than English. He liked it. She made him laugh. She turned him on. Plain and simple.
None of this was simple, he was realising. ‘I think you were crazy long before you met me.’
‘You, Matteo, are everything I hate about men. You’re bossy and … well, bossy. And, well, let’s just say you annoy me. A lot.’
So funny, because she was very definitely not annoyed right now. She was hot and sweet and looking like she needed kissing again. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled her to look at him. ‘Aha. But still you kissed me. And not just once.’
‘I was trying you out. Sizing you up.’ This close to that pouting mouth he was very tempted to do it again.
‘And what?’
‘And nothing. Absolutely nothing.’ She flapped a hand at his chest and it struck ever so lightly against his skin. He caught her wrist and she turned full into him, so close he caught her scent mingling with the smell of her shampoo. Saw the dark green of her eyes, the honeyed flecks, all golden and melting. God, she was breathtaking. He wanted to kiss her. To have her, right now, here on the kitchen table. Wanted to be inside her. He wanted her with a passion he’d never had for anyone, ever.
A little dalliance would be fun, but then what? At what cost to both of them? Neither wanted … anything from anyone else. They were two islands of independence with a large ocean of complication between them.
So he tried to make it playful, dropped her hand, gave her a smile. ‘Okay, so take me out for breakfast. And I want to see the Minster that everyone’s so keen on showing me.’
She stepped back and held her wrist—not in pain, no, he hadn’t hurt her—but she just held it close to her chest. Her voice was sultry and shaky, as if she’d just had the best sex of her life—or wanted to. ‘Yes. Good idea, let’s go outside. First, phone about Joey?’
Matteo looked down at his running gear. ‘No. First a shower. I need to get out of these things.’
‘A shower. Okay. Shower … water … over your body …’ Her gaze scanned his face slowly from his eyes to his mouth, where it lingered. The memories of those kisses hovered in the silence. Heat rose within him. Need curled through the kitchen, thick and heavy and tangible.
He took a step back. ‘I’ll go now.’
‘Yes. Do.’
This thing was getting more intense, like a flame that had suddenly erupted into life and was consuming everything in its path, blazing a trail between them. He needed to get away from her before he did something stupid. Like kiss her again. If he didn’t douse himself in cold water he wouldn’t be able to function around her.
‘Wait!’ She walked towards him, the cardigan slipping from her shoulders and falling to the floor. Without a word she walked up the stairs and he followed her, hungry to see what she was doing. Was she going to …? Did she want …? A shower? With him? Was this the beginning?
His heart began a strange thumping against his ribcage and for the first time in his life he felt less than sure of his next move.
She stopped short at a door, turned to look at him and gave him a smile, eyebrows cocked. Then she dragged the door open, reached in and pulled out … ‘Towels, Matteo. I forgot to give them to you last night.’
Mio Dio. He’d thought he was going to have a heart attack. And now she was so close to him he wanted to touch her. To run his fingers through her hair. To feel that soft skin against his. He was hot and hard for her. Every part of him strained for her.
Holding the towels at hip level, he cursed the flimsy running shorts. ‘Thanks. I’ll go. Now …’
‘Just so you know, the shower’s a bit temperamental. Turn the cold water on first then adjust the hot to suit you. That is …’ Glancing towards his nether regions, she gave him a wry but cheeky smile that was so not the buttoned-up Ivy he knew—but was a whole lot more of the Ivy he wanted to get to know. ‘If you want hot at all.’
The cardiac care ward was locked. Ivy pressed the intercom button and waited. And waited some more. Inside she could see a blur of people running along the corridor. Running. To the blare of a siren. Crap. Her hand hit her mouth as her heart developed a fast, jerky rhythm. ‘What’s happening? What is it?’
She knew what it was.
Matteo’s hand slipped into hers. ‘It’s an emergency. Crash call, I imagine. It’s okay, Ivy. They’re all experts.’
‘Do