have a direct line to his brain.
And his groin.
And was married. Or had been. Still, she wore no ring, and she’d been adamant that it was over.
He smiled at the thought of her ill-concealed blushes. She had a cool exterior, and could handle herself very well, but there was an unexpected softness about her too. A vulnerability that she hid, or tried to hide.
So he’d stayed out of her way as much as possible, because she was a heady mix of things that seemed to attract him more than they should. But avoiding contact with her hadn’t worked; he couldn’t get the damned woman out of his head.
‘Hey. Just passing by en route to an emergency surgery. All good here?’
Friend and colleague Ethan Hunter stood in the doorway, his usual reluctant smile playing hooky. Dressed in scrubs, he looked primed for action. And Ethan always took that very seriously.
He’d been offered the position of Hunter Clinic head in his brother’s absence but had somehow managed to persuade Declan to take that particular mantle, talking up Declan’s silky PR skills. Declan had agreed—it was all good management experience. And, given the trauma Ethan had been through and his fight back to health, Declan hadn’t wanted to refuse.
But this was also the guy responsible for Kara invading his thoughts. Declan could either tell him the truth—that she was quietly driving him mad—or get on with it. The very private Ethan wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to confide ‘deep and meaningful’ to.
Declan shuffled some paper. ‘All good, I suppose. Trying to get to grips with the accounts for when Leo gets back.’
At the mention of his brother’s name Ethan stiffened. ‘I’m sure you’ll manage fine. Hey, how’s Kara fitting in? I’ve heard good reports.’
Declan shrugged, trying not to give too much away. If he was struggling with anything he wouldn’t let anyone know. And surely Ethan knew about their kiss at the ball? It was public knowledge.
‘Okay. But I’ll be happy when Karen gets back. She knows the routine—how I like things.’ And she didn’t pre-empt everything he did.
But the way Kara’s eyes had swirled with a zillion different emotions—none of them warm and fuzzy ones—when she’d spoken about her husband had drawn him to her even more. Having nursed his sisters through enough broken hearts to add more than a few grey hairs to his head, he knew better than even to ask Kara what her story was … but for some reason he was beyond intrigued.
‘Hmm. I did wonder about allocating her to you, but short-staffed is short-staffed …’
So Ethan must know about the kiss. It was Declan’s own stupid fault for mixing work with fun.
Ethan frowned. ‘It’s not like you to not gel with someone …’
Oh, yes. He gelled okay. Too damned much. Gelling wasn’t the problem. Un-gelling was. ‘Ah, well, you know …’
‘I presume you’ve had the setting the guidelines talk? Taken the “this is how I do things” approach?’
‘We’ve been busy. You know what it’s like with a media circus on your doorstep.’
‘So demarcate some time—take her for a quick coffee, a drink. There’s nothing wrong with her medical practice, though?’
‘Hell, no. She’s an excellent surgeon. But as it’s probably only a short rotation with me I don’t think we need bother with all that getting to know you stuff.’
‘No?’ Ethan ran a hand over his jaw. He looked tired. And hassled. ‘Try to get on with her, Declan. There’s been too much bad blood running through this place for too long.’ He checked his watch. ‘A drink. A coffee. I don’t care what you do. Just do it. I want to hear things are going smoothly, right? I could do without the stress of more work-related worries.’
Declan guessed Ethan was referring to the complicated relationship between the Hunter brothers.
‘Okay, boss.’
The man must have been a force to be reckoned with in the army. Fighting the urge to salute, Declan slammed the laptop shut and shoved it into his backpack, made his way to the hospital exit and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with disappointingly stuffy city air. What he needed was a good long ride on his bike to clear the cobwebs. A cosy chat be damned. What he needed was a Kara-free life.
Thankfully the car park was devoid of journalists, leaving him a clear path towards his motorbike. He strode ahead, helmet in hand, the evening sunshine glinting off the chrome handlebars.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement. Someone else leaving the hospital, heading quickly—or as quickly as she could in a pair of red satin stilettoes that made his heart stutter—towards the bus stop. Not quick enough, though, as the bus sailed past, leaving her stamping her pretty shoes against the tarmac.
At closer inspection he confirmed it was Kara, her hair loose down her back, which drew his eye to her slim waist, nipped in by a fitted cardigan and then lower, to her perfectly shaped backside encased in skinny black trousers. A shot of heat fizzed through him as if someone had flicked a switch in his body.
So he should have just ridden away. But before he knew what he was doing he’d strolled right on up to her.
Ethan’s orders, right? Taking one for the team for the sake of no bad blood. ‘Hey. Dr Down-Under.’
‘Watch it!’ She jumped round to face him, at the same time lunging at his throat in a well-practised self-defence karate chop move, her palm almost connecting to his chin.
In a knee-jerk reaction he took a step back and grabbed her palm. He didn’t think for one minute she’d have a qualm about trying to floor him and using her stiletto as a weapon. ‘Hey! Overreaction, much?’
‘Oh. It’s you. You nearly gave me a heart attack.’ She shook her hand free from his grip and frowned.
‘Lucky we’re outside a hospital, then.’ A short, hot kiss of life sprang to the forefront of his mind.
‘Do you often jump out at women from dark corners, wearing …’
Her eyes widened as her gaze travelled over his dark grey T-shirt and jeans. A suit and tie were all well and good for an office day, or a riding the underground day, but not for a bike to work day.
Her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed. ‘Wearing … a leather jacket …’
‘Only on special occasions.’ When she’d stopped staring and had seemed to gather her wits again he grinned. ‘You missed the bus.’
‘Thank you, Einstein.’ A deep V formed along her forehead. ‘He must have been blind not to see me. I was waving enough.’
‘Blind, indeed. Any man worth his salt would have stopped just for those shoes. But you were quite a distance from the bus stop—maybe trainers might be a better choice for running next time.’
She looked down, raised an ankle and turned it this way and that to look at her shoes. He followed her every movement,
