… housekeeping requests, I could finish my preparations for her admission and initial medical assessment, and then actually deal with the injuries she has sustained, we could all make Safia’s stay a lot more comfortable.’
The aide stared at her as she rallied.
‘I’m sure His Highness would not like to hear that the medical team were held up due to lilies? Glassware? I thought not. We are done here?’
Oh, God. The headache that had bloomed after Declan’s sister’s early morning phone call threatened to return. This woman was on his medical team? Since when? And why had no one consulted him about it? Declan didn’t like surprises. He always liked to know exactly what he was dealing with, and he’d made that damned clear to the powers-that-be.
The Sheikh’s aide blanched and bowed slightly. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. Of course, Doctor … You know what’s best.’
‘Yes. Thank you. We do.’
As she turned to watch the aide scuttle away her eyes locked on to Declan’s. Her smile slipped completely, and a tinge of pink hit her cheeks. ‘Oh.’
The first time she’d shown any hint of bother. But then, within a nanosecond, she’d regained her composure.
‘Kiss me.’
A rush of heat and a swirl of memory shook through him. A gold-coloured ballgown that had complemented the colour of the soft curls falling down her back, those startling green eyes commanding his attention, that infuriatingly cocky mouth drawing him in to the most sensual kiss of his life. Only she’d had a sheen of sadness about her too when he’d met her at the bar, knocking back shots. He’d turned it into a game, just to make her smile, which had then turned into something infinitely more interesting.
When was that? Six months ago? The hospital ball? A kiss he’d never found an equal to since, and a woman he’d caught tantalising glimpses of around the surgical unit, at Drake’s Bar, and once, possibly, he thought he might have caught a brief whiff of her perfume at the Hunter Clinic. The woman he’d never quite caught up with.
Or even tried to.
And definitely hadn’t wanted to.
Because—well … because talking to her, laughing with her, kissing her, had made him want something more. And Declan Underwood never did more.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Underwood. Adding spying to your list of legendary talents?’
‘You are standing right outside my office. It’s hardly a covert operation.’ Had he ever even known her name? ‘Why are you frightening the life out of my esteemed visitors and masquerading as a member of my team? And where the hell is Karen?’
Karen. The timid but efficient junior surgeon who didn’t have a bewitching mouth and a dangerous sparkle in her eye.
The woman’s mouth twitched. ‘White lilies, indeed. If they’re all like him we’re going to have our work cut out. By all accounts Safia’s a little diva. Didn’t you hear? Karen’s been called away to a family emergency and I’ve been shifted over to assist until she gets back.’
‘Whoa! Slow down. To assist me?’
She smiled, but it didn’t look as if she was very pleased about the scenario either. He wondered if she was thinking about that kiss too, and how she’d suddenly lost her cool, or her nerve or both, and left him standing on the dance floor trying to work out which tornado had just hit.
Just the thought of it set off a burst of inconvenient heat swimming through his veins.
‘Yes, the luck fairies have sprinkled dust on us both today. I’m on your team until Karen gets things sorted.’
Judging by his all too regular experiences of family emergencies she could be away for weeks. His stomach hit his boots. Regardless of what his body might want, mixing work with pleasure was something he avoided at all costs. So he’d be sticking to strictly business.
‘And which genius came up with this idea?’
‘Ethan Hunter. He called me this morning, said he’d had a call from Karen and was going to run the idea by you, but you were unavailable. He left you a message, apparently. So did she.’
No doubt while Declan’s oldest sister had been bending his ear about his middle sister’s new boyfriend, the youngest’s less than satisfactory university grades and his mother’s upcoming birthday plans. He was definitely going to have to set more limits around his personal private time. Sure, hadn’t he been trying to do that for the past seventeen years?
‘So I miss a call and now I don’t get a say about who works with me on one of the most high-profile cases we’ve had in years?’
‘What would you prefer?’ Her hands hit her tantalising hips. ‘It’s me or no one. At least I have a good deal of burns experience. There isn’t any other option, with Leo and Lizzie on honeymoon and this place being almost in lockdown with the Sheikh’s arrival.’
‘No?’
‘You could do it all by yourself, but somehow I can’t think you’d want to do the junior tasks. Admissions paperwork? Organising bloods?’ Her voice rose at the end of every sentence, making it sound as if she was asking an endless list of questions.
‘Yes, thank you, I have a full understanding of what is needed. And, it’s not that I don’t want to do them. I just don’t have time.’ Stepping up to run the Hunter Clinic in Leo’s absence meant he needed more junior staff, not less.
Unbelievable. Declan ran a hand across his neck as he realised he’d been backed into an Antipodean corner. Well, hell, she’d better be as good in surgery as she was at kissing, because he couldn’t take any chances—not with his reputation and a young girl’s future at stake.
Great. His day had just got a whole lot longer.
‘So I hope we don’t have a problem here?’
‘Absolutely not.’
Oh, but they did. At least Kara did. Declan’s Irish lilt curled around her clenched stomach and stroked. Softly. Smoothly. Sexi— No. She wasn’t allowed to think that. The man was her boss. And an amazing kisser. Boss. Kisser. Boss. He tipped his chin to one side and gave her the slightest hint of recognition. A nod, perhaps, to their last … connection…?
She felt the blush start at her toes and spread, fast, to the top of her head. If only she’d explained her quick getaway—the reason dancing with him had been such a dumb move. Her surprisingly hot bodily response to the first man to hold her in so long. No—it had been a direct response to him and his strong arms and smooth, deep accent. And then, as reality hit, her suddenly very cold feet.
He leaned against his office doorjamb, folded his arms and eyed her with ill-disguised caution.
Shame, because she’d really, really enjoyed that kiss. However wrong. However badly timed. However just damned stupid. And he clearly hardly even remembered her. But then the man had a following of women who thought they could change his commitment-phobic ways. That kiss was probably not a stand-out for him. Luckily she’d put it far behind her.
She
