smiled as Billie’s gaze snagged on their joined hands. Not that he could blame her. If she felt the connection as strongly as he did then they were both in trouble.
Just as well they wouldn’t be seeing each other again after tonight. Resisting her in this situation was sensible and right. But if there was repeated exposure? That could wear a man down.
Sensible and right could be easily eroded.
‘And you’re Billie?’ he prompted, withdrawing his hand. ‘Billie …?’
Billie dragged her gaze away from their broken grip, up his broad chest and deliciously whiskery neck and onto his face, his spare cheekbones glowing alternately red and blue from the lights behind him.
What were they talking about? Oh, yes, formal introductions. ‘Ashworth-Keyes,’ she said automatically. ‘Although if you want formal formal then it’s Willamina Ashworth-Keyes.’
Gareth quirked an eyebrow as a little itch started at the back of his brain. ‘Your first name is Willamina?’
Billie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said, placing her hand on her hip. ‘What about it?’
Gareth held up his hands in surrender. ‘Nothing. Just kind of sounds like somebody’s … spinster great-aunt.’
Billie frowned, unfortunately agreeing. Which was why she’d carried over her childhood pet name into adulthood.
‘Not that there’s anything remotely spinsterish or great-auntish about you,’ he hastened to add. The last thing he wanted to do was insult her. The very last thing. ‘Or,’ he added as her frowned deepened, ‘that there’s anything wrong with that anyway.’
This woman made him tongue-tied.
How long had it been since he’d felt this gauche? Like some horny fifteen-year-old who couldn’t even speak to the cool, pretty girl because he had a hard-on the size of a house.
Not that he had a hard-on. Not right now anyway. Or probably ever again if this excruciatingly awkward scene replayed in his head as often as he figured it would.
Billie’s breath caught at Gareth’s sudden lack of finesse. It made her feel as if she wasn’t the only one thrown by this rather bizarre thing that had flared between them.
And she’d liked his emphasis on remotely.
She laughed to ease the strange tension that had spiked between them. ‘Only my parents call me Willamina,’ she said. ‘And generally only if I’m in trouble.’
‘And are you often in trouble?’
Gareth realised the words might have come across as flirty, so he kept his face serious.
Billie felt absurdly like laughing at such a preposterous notion. Her? In trouble? ‘No. Not me. Never me.’ That had been her sister’s job. ‘No, I’m the peacekeeper in the family.’
Gareth frowned at the sudden gloom in her eyes. The conversation had swung from light to awkward to serious. It seemed she wasn’t too keen on the mantle of family good girl and suddenly a seductive voice was whispering they could find some trouble together.
Thankfully the little itch at the back of his brain finally came into sharp focus, obliterating the voice completely.
‘Wait …’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Ashworth-Keyes? As in Charles and Alisha Ashworth-Keyes, eminent cardiothoracic surgeons?’
Billie nodded. Sprung. ‘The very same.’
‘Your parents?’ She nodded and he whistled. Everyone who was anyone in the medical profession in Brisbane knew of the Ashworth-Keyes surgical dynasty. ‘That’s some pedigree you’ve got going on there.’
‘Yes. Lucky me,’ she said derisively.
‘You … don’t get on?’
Billie sighed. ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just … not really like them, you know?’
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘How so?’
‘Well, I’m no surgeon, that’s for sure. I’m a little too squeamish for that.’
Gareth surprised himself by laughing at the understatement but he couldn’t help himself. ‘Really?’ he asked, looking down at his shoes. ‘You hide it well.’
Billie shot him a cross look but soon joined him in his laughter.
‘And?’ he asked. ‘What else?’
What else? Being a surgeon was all that mattered in the Ashworth-Keyes household. ‘It’s … complicated.’
Gareth nodded. Fair enough. Complicated he understood. It really wasn’t any of his business anyway. ‘So what field is the next Ashworth-Keyes going to specialise in? Clearly something … anything that doesn’t involve the letting of blood? Dermatology? Radiology? Maybe … pathology?’
Billie shook her head. ‘Emergency medicine,’ she said. Even saying it depressed the hell out of her.
Gareth blinked. ‘Really?’ Surely Billie understood the squeamish factor could get pretty high in an ER?
‘Yep,’ she confirmed, sounding about as enthusiastic as he usually did just prior to starting a night shift. ‘I’m starting my six-month emergency rotation at St Luke’s ER next week in fact.’
Gareth held his breath. ‘St Luke’s?’
‘Yes.
Crap. ‘Ah.’
She frowned at him in that way he’d already grown way too fond of. ‘What?’
‘That’s where I work.’
‘You … work at St Luke’s?’
He nodded. ‘In the ER.’
‘So we’ll be … working together,’ she murmured.
‘Yup.’
And he hoped like hell she didn’t look as good in a pair of scrubs as she did in a black sparkly dress or sensible and right were going to be toast.
BILLIE’S FIRST DAY at St Luke’s wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. Gareth wasn’t there and she was able to slip into the groove of the department during daytime hours when there were a lot of senior staff around to have her back and take on the more raw and challenging cases.
She was content to take the nuisance admissions that everybody grumbled about. The patients that should be at their GPs’ but had decided to save their hip pockets and clutter up the public waiting room instead.
Billie really didn’t mind. It was satisfying
