just don’t want one in your own back yard,’ she finished for him furiously. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m here for the duration, and you and your fragile male ego are just going to have to get used to it!’
Yikes, but where had that come from? she wondered, seeing anger darken his blue eyes. She’d never been the confrontational type. Deborah was always telling her she was too darned soft for her own good, but this man…He constantly seemed to bring out the worst in her.
Which didn’t mean she was going to apologise.
Dammit, why should she? If he was a chauvinist—and she’d never in a million years have pegged him as one—then he was going to have to learn she wasn’t a pushover.
Or at least not a complete one, she thought, forcing herself not to flinch back in her seat when he got to his feet and his broad shoulders blocked out the sunlight from her window.
‘Seth, listen—’
‘My shift starts in half an hour, and I’d like a coffee before I go on duty, so if there’s nothing else, Dr Mackenzie…?’
He couldn’t even call her Olivia. Everybody else did. Jerry, Tony, Babs, Fiona. Only Seth seemed unable—or unwilling—to force her name through his teeth.
‘Seth—’
‘I really would like that coffee.’
It was hopeless, she thought as she gazed up into his implacable face. Completely and utterly hopeless.
‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said, and without a word, or even so much as a nod, he was gone.
Stupid, pompous, arrogant man. What on earth was she going to do with him? If they couldn’t establish a decent working relationship she would have to ask for his resignation, and she didn’t want his resignation. He was an excellent consultant. Skilled, intuitive, unflappable.
Handsome, too, her mind whispered as she gathered up the folders on her desk and she let out a huff of impatience. OK, so he was handsome, and when he smiled…Not that he’d done any smiling in her direction during the past week, but she’d seen him smile at Babs and Fiona, and it was the kind of smile that did odd things to a woman’s stomach.
‘Odd things to her brain, too,’ she murmured out loud as she put the folders in her filing cabinet and closed the drawer with a bang. ‘Face it, Liv. A man like Seth Hardcastle would leave you emotionally scarred for life.’
Yes, but think of the fun while it lasted.
Don’t think of the fun, she told herself severely as she walked out of her office and down to the examination room. The only thing you want from Seth Hardcastle is a good working relationship. Nothing more, nothing less.
There didn’t seem to be much work going on in A and E when she opened the door. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any work going on at all, just Babs and Fiona crouched up against the back wall surrounded by a mass of squashed fruit.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ Olivia asked, only to duck quickly as a pear suddenly came shooting out of cubicle 6 followed by the sound of a male voice calling, ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’
‘Brian Taylor,’ Babs replied. ‘He came in with a badly cut hand, and Fiona and I had just got a saline drip into him when all hell broke loose.’
‘He’s one of our regulars, and a chronic alcoholic,’ the staff nurse chipped in. ‘We reckon he’s been on one of his three-day benders.’
‘Which doesn’t alter the fact that his hand needs stitching,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘Why haven’t you sedated him?’
A watermelon sailed out of the cubicle and landed with a dull thud at Babs’s feet.
‘Because we’d rather like to finish the day in one piece,’ the sister replied. ‘So if you have any bright ideas on how we can get close enough to him…’
It was a good point. It was also at times like this that Olivia wished she was a man. Preferably a six-foot-two-inch tall man with broad shoulders and blue eyes, but if she paged Seth he’d never let her forget it.
‘Where are Jerry and Tony?’ she asked.
‘Jerry’s in cubicle 1 with a possible duodenal, and Tony’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with the woman in 3.’
Which meant she was on her own.
Well, brawn wasn’t everything, she told herself. In fact, the voice of sweet reason could often be surprisingly effective.
‘Mr Taylor?’ she called out in her most reassuring voice. A bunch of bananas came hurtling through the curtains, and he started cock-a-doodling again. ‘What’s he got in there, Babs?’ she hissed. ‘The entire contents of a fruit shop?’
The sister grinned. ‘We’re just hoping he didn’t stop off at his local fishmonger’s before he came here.’
Olivia fervently hoped so, too. She chewed her lip for a second, then made up her mind. ‘I need a syringe loaded with the strongest sedative you’ve got.’
Babs did as she asked, but when Olivia pocketed the syringe and got down on her hands and knees, the sister eyed her uncertainly. ‘Are you sure about this? I could call Seth—’
Over her dead body. ‘Of course I’m sure,’ Olivia replied, but she didn’t feel anything like as confident when she crawled into the cubicle and caught sight of Mr Taylor sitting on top of the trolley.
Dear lord, but he was huge. If he stopped throwing fruit and started throwing his fists, she was going to be in serious trouble.
Think positive, Olivia, she told herself firmly. You might not have physical strength but you have intelligence. And probably about ten seconds in which to use it, she calculated as she stretched up, yanked the saline drip off its hook and then crouched down again fast.
Make that five seconds, she amended with a sinking heart as an ominous rustling sound came from the trolley, which suggested that Mr Taylor was delving into his shopping bag again.
‘There’s no need to get agitated, Mr Taylor,’ she said soothingly. ‘I’m here to help you.’
‘Get lost!’
‘And I love you, too,’ she muttered under her breath as she swiftly injected the syringe full of sedative into the drip tube. ‘Now, if you could just breathe in deeply for me, I’ll—’
She didn’t get a chance to finish what she’d been about to say. Tomatoes began raining down on her, splattering her white coat, and she squeezed on the saline bag for all she was worth. It was a quick-acting sedative, but he was a big man and it could be several seconds before it took effect. All she could hope was that it kicked in before he ran out of tomatoes.
‘Sleepy time, Mr Taylor,’ she crooned. ‘Time to go to the land of nod. Time for Mr Sandman to come along and close your eyes.’
‘Get lost,’ he said again, but this time with slightly less enthusiasm, and she squeezed even harder on the bag.
‘Maybe
