with all premature babies, and she was thrilled to be able to help a mother hold her premature baby for the very first time.
Callie loved her job. Unlike her private life, here at the hospital she was in control and she knew exactly what she was doing. After she’d completed the discharge papers for the twins, Nick still hadn’t called back, so she decided to grab something to eat while she had the chance.
As she reached the tearoom door, laughter and conversation rolled out to meet her.
‘Oh, my God, that Cade Coleman has to be the sexiest man ever to walk the floor of this hospital.’
Callie recognised the voice of Sara Hennessey, one of the NICU nurses, and she stopped short of entering the room.
‘I know, right? And that accent! He only has to say hello and I’m a puddle of lust,’ replied a voice Callie wasn’t familiar with.
‘He is without a doubt the best addition to Gold Coast City in a very long time. I heard from the theatre nurses that Callie Richards—’
Oh, God, no! Callie hastily spun on her heel, away from the tearoom, and punched open the nursery door. It took every ounce of control she had to keep her feet from breaking into a run. One dumb mistake. It was bad enough she’d plastered herself all over him when they’d danced and then gone on to suggest that she was open to more, but to have the nursing staff talking about her was more than she could bear. She’d worked so hard at keeping her private life exactly that—private.
Never again was she going to give anyone any excuse to talk about her. From this day forward she was marking Cade Coleman and every other red-blooded male in the hospital as off limits.
‘What is the point of writing down clear instructions if no one reads them?’
As Luke’s terse words broke over Chloe like jagged shards of glass, she counted slowly to five. Despite talking with Keri and Kate and outlining her concerns about Luke, and their meeting with staff in Theatre to try and work out the best way to handle him, not much had changed in two weeks. With Keri and Kate, with whom he’d worked before, he seemed to hold himself in check, but there were still moments when he was difficult, and on those occasions he took down everyone in his path.
Oh, why had Keri gone to a seminar today, leaving her in charge of the ward? Now she had to deal with the man she’d nicknamed the panther. Like the big black cat, he was a perfect specimen—sleek, muscular and strong. At times his emerald eyes would glow with ruthless keenness that made her shiver with delicious anticipation.
It unnerved her because she didn’t want to be attracted to him. She didn’t want to be attracted to any man, let alone one who had a neon ‘excess-baggage’ sticker plastered all over him. That would be like throwing herself under a truck—both dangerous and deadly to her peace of mind.
Stay strong. Remember, no man is for you, especially not this one.
A raft of heady need skipped through her, deaf to her entreaties, and she stomped on it hard. She didn’t even like this version of Luke, so why was her body doing this to her? When he was in one of his moods, he pounced on any weakness, attacking first and pausing second. Yes, the man was grieving, and for the last couple of weeks the staff had been making allowances for him, but that didn’t absolve him from basic manners.
Glancing up at his handsome but scowling face, she said, ‘And hello to you, Mr Stanley. Welcome to Ward Six.’
‘Chloe.’ He gave her a stiff nod as if he recognised that he should have at least greeted her first before lobbing his complaint at her like a grenade. ‘Mrs Wharton’s drain tubes should have been removed today. The woman’s been through breast cancer and the least she can expect is to be free of tubes so she can get an idea of how her new breasts are going to look.’
‘I agree.’
‘I don’t need you to agree.’ He rubbed his temple and squinted at her as if he was having trouble focusing. ‘I just need the drain tubes out.’
‘And they will come out.’ In every encounter with the irascible consultant she’d needed to draw on her counselling skills. It was exhausting. ‘As a result of your busy morning in the operating theatre, we’re flat out here with post-op checks. Along with that, we’re one nurse down and as I am sure you’re aware you didn’t specify an exact time for the removal. There’s still a lot of today left.’
She smiled at him to reinforce her commitment. ‘I guarantee you that the drain tubes will be out before I go off duty at three.’
‘Good,’ he said gruffly, scrawling an order on another patient’s chart. ‘Make sure they are.’
His response crossed her threshold of what she was prepared to have dished out to her. ‘Mr Stanley…Luke.’
His silver pen stilled in his hand. ‘Yes?’
‘I may not be Keri and we may not have had a long working relationship but I’m good at my job. When I give you my word, know that it will be honoured. I’d appreciate being treated with the same professional respect that I accord you.’
Despite the semi-permanent dull ache behind his eyes, Luke felt Chloe’s words strike him and strum a chord. God, when had he turned into such an ogre?
Since you killed your wife. The cancerous words spread their malignancy through him again, ramping up the hatred he held for himself—an abhorrence he shielded Amber from. Like a full reservoir, there were times when it spilled out at work, no matter how hard he tried to contain it.
‘I have a headache.’ He rubbed his eyes and hid behind an excuse because it was easier than telling Chloe the truth.
Her hazel eyes widened in disbelief at his justification for rudeness, which even sounded lame to his own ears.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said, her chin tilting up defiantly, ‘but is there any need to inflict it on us? Here…’ She fished a foil disc out of her pocket. ‘Take some ibuprofen.’
He accepted the two white tablets along with the admonishment and tried a wry smile. ‘Spoken like a true nurse.’
Her lush mouth softened into a smile and the stirrings of warmth that eddied in him each time he met her became waves of liquid heat. Then she laughed and the sound surfed on the heat, pulling up memories of the times he’d laughed easily. For a brief moment the constant reminders of why he didn’t laugh much any more—why he didn’t feel any more—faded away and he let the wondrous and glorious sensations of life surge through him.
Betrayer.
Guilt seared him like the dry heat from a furnace, sucking the oxygen from the joy until it shrivelled to nothing. He didn’t deserve to feel happy. He wanted to turn and leave—march away from Chloe immediately. Away from the temptation that represented everything he could no longer have in his life.
You have to work with her.
He did, and it wasn’t Chloe’s fault that Anna was dead. It wasn’t Chloe’s fault that with one ill-timed action he’d screwed up his perfect life.
He stood facing her with his fingers clenched on his Swiss pen and tried to apologise. ‘I do appreciate your work here, Chloe.’
‘Thank
