Medical Duo - Dr Chandler's Sleeping Beauty & Christmas with Dr Delicious Page 5

  Something tightened in the air.

  It was an invisible energy, a force Kitty could feel passing over the entire surface of her skin, disrupting the nerves inside and out, making them super-aware and super-sensitive.

  She became aware of the deep thudding of her heart: a boom, boom, boom sensation inside her ribcage that was almost audible.

  His eyes moved from her mouth to mesh with hers in a heart-stopping little lockdown that sent her senses into a tailspin. ‘You know, there is an alternative to handling this situation we find ourselves in,’ he said, in a deep and husky tone that sent a shower of reaction down her spine.

  ‘Th-there is?’ she said in an equally raspy voice.

  His eyes went to her mouth again, resting there an infinitesimal moment before meeting her eyes once more. ‘Instead of denying it we could say it’s true,’ he said. ‘Then everyone will stop speculating about us.’

  Kitty blinked. ‘But … but it’s not true.’

  One side of his mouth tilted. ‘I know, but only we would know that.’

  She frowned. ‘So you’re saying we should pretend we’re having a fling just to stop people gossiping about us?’ she asked.

  ‘It could work,’ he said. ‘It’ll stop the “are they?” or “aren’t they?” comments.’

  Kitty made a little scoffing sound. ‘But you’re not my type. I would never in a million years date someone like you.’

  ‘Same goes.’

  She pursed her lips as she considered his comeback. Why wouldn’t he date someone like her? What was wrong with her?

  Wasn’t she pretty enough?

  Smart enough?

  Too smart?

  ‘I can imagine I don’t quite fit the stereotype for your usual bedmate,’ she said. ‘A brain is not essential—only a pulse, right?’

  He gave her one of his lazy smiles. ‘It has to be a strong, healthy pulse,’ he said. ‘Great stamina is required when sleeping with me.’

  Kitty could have cooked a raw egg on both cheeks. ‘I am not sleeping with you, Dr Chandler,’ she said. ‘Not in pretence or in reality.’

  He opened the door for her with exaggerated gallantry. ‘Then it’s best if we keep our distance, don’t you think?’

  She put her chin up. ‘That’s exactly what I intend to do,’ she said, and stalked out.

  Jake was about to leave his office for a meeting when his mobile rang. He glanced at the caller ID on the screen and muttered a swearword under his breath before he answered it. ‘You’d better have a good excuse for not showing up for Rosie’s birthday,’ he said to his younger brother.

  ‘When was it her birthday?’ Robbie asked.

  Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts?’

  ‘I ran out of credit on my phone.’

  ‘What? Again?’ Jake asked. ‘I gave you heaps of credit only a fortnight ago.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I had to make a lot of calls,’ Robbie said in a surly tone.

  ‘What a pity one of them wasn’t to one of your sisters or to me,’ Jake muttered.

  ‘Get off my case, Jake, you’re not my father.’

  Jake pinched the bridge of his nose to clear the red mist of anger that appeared before his eyes. ‘No, I’m damn well not,’ he said. ‘You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Mum didn’t survive that car accident. It would’ve broken her heart to see you stuff your life up like this. What were you thinking, Robbie? This time two years ago you were halfway through your engineering degree. Now you’re living on the streets.’

  ‘I’m not living on the streets,’ Robbie said. ‘I’ve got mates I’m hanging with.’

  ‘You know what they say about lying down with stray dogs,’ Jake said. ‘Sooner or later you’re going to get fleas.’

  ‘You’re just pissed because I’m out having fun and you’re not,’ Robbie said.

  ‘You call getting hammered or stoned every night fun?’ Jake said, anger and frustration making his throat tight and his voice hoarse. ‘Where’s the fun in getting Hep C or AIDS from a dirty needle, huh? Tell me that. Tell me what’s fun about wrecking your life and everyone else’s in the process.’

  ‘I’m not using any more,’ Robbie said. ‘I’m clean, man.’

  Jake was holding his phone so tightly he thought the screen was going to crack. How could he trust a word that Robbie said? Sometimes it felt as if someone had hijacked his little brother’s body. It was Robbie on the outside, but it wasn’t his kid brother on the inside. Where had that sunny faced, happy-go-lucky kid gone? Where was the boy he had coached through the turbulent years of adolescence in the absence of their deadbeat father, who hadn’t even stayed around long enough to see Robbie born? Where was the pimply teenager he had taught to drive? Where was the young man who’d used to drop in to his flat at least three times a week just to hang out after lectures? Who’d talked to him late into the night of his hopes and dreams and aspirations? Who had looked up to him not just as an older brother, but also as a mentor?

  And, even more heart wrenching, would Jake ever be able to get him back?

  He pinched the bridge of his nose again, taking a calming breath before he spoke. ‘Tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you,’ he said. ‘You can stay with me for a few days. We’ll sort something out.’

  ‘I don’t need a place to stay,’ Robbie said. ‘I just need some cash.’

  Jake dropped his hand from his face. ‘You know what I feel about handing you money, Robbie. If you need food I’ll buy it. If you need rent paid I’ll pay it. But don’t ask me to hand you money to pay for drink or drugs. I can’t do that. I won’t do that.’

  The phone went dead.

  Jake put the phone back on the desk and dragged his hand over his face. Was this nightmare ever going to end? Where had he gone wrong? He had thought it bad enough when Rosie had got herself pregnant by that jerk who had left her stranded at the age of nineteen. But that was nothing compared to this. Robbie was hellbent on self-destruction and there wasn’t a thing he or anyone could do to stop it.

  All the sacrifices he had made to keep his family together were still not enough. All the opportunities he could have taken he had gladly relinquished, just to see his siblings make their way in the world. He had curtailed many of his own plans to make sure his siblings got the care and the resources they needed. The girls were finally on their feet now. And he had been so proud that Robbie had decided to go to university—thrilled that all the hopes their mother had had for each of her children were finally coming to fruition. He had thought when Robbie was doing well in his studies that things would be smooth sailing from then on. But just when he had thought it was safe to have a life of his own, free of the responsibilities he had shouldered for so long, everything had come crashing down.

  What more could he do? Did he have to spend the rest of his life worrying about his brother? Was Robbie ever going to grow out of this stage and be responsible for himself? Or was this how it was going to be for ever?

  ‘What’s this I hear about you getting it on with the new recruit in A&E?’ asked Greg Hickey, one of the orthopaedic surgeons, in the doctors’ room later that day.

  Jake put his teaspoon down on the sink. ‘Just a rumour, Greg,’ he said. ‘You know what this place is like. You only have to look at someone and everyone thinks you’re sleeping with them.’

  Greg gave him a cynical grin. ‘That’s because you usually are.’

  Jake gave a dismissive shrug. ‘She’s not my type.’

  ‘She’s a London girl, isn’t she?’ Greg asked as he poured himself a coffee from the brew on the hotplate.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jake said, thinking of Kitty’s cute little accent and the way she put her nose in the air when she wanted to make a point.

  ‘And quite pretty, so I’ve been told,’ Greg added.

  Jake took a sip of his coffee as he thought about the heart-shaped face and the stormy grey eyes that had stared him down across his desk earlier that d
ay. His body had leapt to attention. He had felt so tempted to come around from behind his desk and taste the temptation of her full mouth. Was it really as soft as it looked? She wasn’t the lipstick type, but she wore a shimmery lip gloss that made her lips look luscious. Would they taste of vanilla or strawberries?

  Her hair had been pulled back in a tight, schoolmarmish knot at the back of her head. He had wanted to release it from its prim confines and let it cascade freely around her shoulders. He had wanted to run his fingers through it to see if it was as silky as it looked. He couldn’t quite rid his mind of imagining her cloud of hair spread out over the pillows on his bed, her slim, creamy limbs entwined with his. Would she be a kitten or a tigress in bed? He got hard just thinking about it. He couldn’t rid his mind of her fragrance, either. She had smelled of frangipanis this time, an exotic and alluring scent that had lingered in his office for hours.

  ‘She’s all right, I guess,’ he said, with another casual up-and-down movement of his shoulders.

  Greg chuckled as he reached for the artificial sweetener on the counter. ‘You’ve got it bad, Jakey boy,’ he said. ‘I can see all the signs.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Jake asked, frowning. ‘What signs?’

  ‘Every time I mentioned her just then you got this goofy sort of dreamy look on your face,’ Greg said, leaning back against the counter. ‘I reckon you’re falling for her.’

  Jake gave an uncomfortable laugh. ‘You’re crazy. I’ve never fallen for anyone in my life and I’m not going to start now.’

  Greg kept grinning. ‘Gotta be a first time for everything, right?’

  ‘Wrong,’ Jake said, putting his mug down on the table with a little thwack. ‘Kitty Cargill’s far too conservative for me. She doesn’t have a funny bone in her body. She’s prim and proper and she sweats over the small stuff all the time. She doesn’t smile—she glowers. Besides, she’s still hankering over some guy who broke her heart back in the home country. I don’t think she’s here to advance her career at all. She’s running away from her failed love-life. I don’t need any lame ducks on my staff; God knows it’s hard enough to keep everyone’s morale up as it is with all these wretched cutbacks. I don’t want to have to babysit someone who isn’t up to the task.’

  ‘What? You don’t think she’s competent?’ Greg asked, frowning over the rim of his coffee cup.

  Jake released a breath and rubbed at the tight muscles at the back of his neck. Maybe he’d laid it on a bit strong. It wouldn’t do to sound too defensive. ‘No, I’m not saying that. She’s conscientious—a little too much so if anything. She’s eager to learn and the patients like her. She’ll find her feet soon enough.’

  ‘Might be just what she needs to boost her confidence,’ Greg said. ‘A meaningless affair with a man she won’t think twice about leaving when it’s time to say goodbye.’

  ‘I’m not putting my hand up for the job just yet,’ Jake said. ‘Not unless I hand over a thousand bucks to one of my sisters.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I made a bet with her over Christmas dinner,’ Jake said. ‘No sex for three months.’

  Greg’s brows rose. ‘So how’s that working out for you?’

  Jake gave him a rueful look as he shouldered open the door. ‘Let’s put it this way,’ he said. ‘I’m spending a whole lot more time at the gym.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JAKE was on his way back to his town house after a heavy session at the gym when he saw Kitty in the car park, washing a car that had seen better days. She was wearing a pair of shorts that ended at mid-thigh and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, swinging from side to side as she rubbed the soapy sponge over the duco of her four-cylinder vehicle. She looked young and nubile and so sexy he felt a surge of lust go through him like a rocket blast. Her small but perfect breasts were outlined behind the clingy dampness of her T-shirt, and every time she bent over he caught a delectable glimpse of her creamy flesh. She was humming to herself—a tune he was familiar with but couldn’t quite place. She had a hose in her other hand and it was spraying water all over the concrete, running in wasteful rivulets down the storm water drain.

  ‘I hate to take on the role of the fun police but you can’t do that around here,’ he said.

  She jumped and turned around so quickly the high-pressure hose in her hand shot him straight in the groin with a blast of cold water.

  He let out a stiff curse as he stepped out of the line of fire. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, pointing the hose at the ground, where it sprayed water all over the concrete at her feet. ‘I didn’t hear you. You scared the wits out of me, coming from nowhere like that.’

  He frowned in irritation as he brushed off what water he could from his sodden gym shorts. ‘Will you turn off the damn hose, for God’s sake?’

  She gave her head a little toss that sent her ponytail swinging again. ‘I’m washing my new car.’

  ‘You can’t use a hose to do that.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ she asked, looking at him defiantly. ‘How else am I supposed to wash it? Lick it clean?’

  Jake looked at her mouth—a habit of his just lately that he couldn’t seem to break. He could think of places he would much rather have her lick with her tongue than the dusty duco of her second-hand bomb. ‘We have water restrictions here,’ he said. ‘You can’t use a hose to water the garden or wash your car during summer. You have to use a bucket. If you get caught there are hefty fines.’

  ‘Oh …’ She looked at the running hose and bit down on her lip. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  Jake moved over to turn the hose off at the tap, asking over his shoulder. ‘Where did you get the car?’

  Her chin came up a fraction. ‘I bought it.’

  He came over and ran a hand over the dented paintwork of the front fender. ‘How much did you pay for it?’ he asked.

  She pursed her lips for a tiny heartbeat. ‘It wasn’t expensive,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to spend a fortune because I’m only going to be using it for three months.’

  ‘Let’s hope it lasts that long,’ Jake said, kicking one of the threadbare tyres with his right foot.

  ‘I’m sure it’s perfectly fine,’ she said, with a little flash of her grey gaze.

  ‘Did you take it for a test drive?’

  Her eyes flickered a little, as if something behind them had come loose. ‘I drove it around the block at the owner’s house and then back to here,’ she said. ‘It ran smoothly enough.’

  Jake grunted. ‘Good luck on restarting it.’

  Her lips went tight again. ‘I’m sure it will start first go,’ she said. ‘It’s only had one owner.’

  ‘How many clicks on the clock?’

  A little frown pulled at her brow. ‘Clicks?’

  ‘Kilometres.’

  ‘Oh …’ She nibbled at her lip again and stepped past him to peer through the driver’s window. ‘Forty-two thousand.’

  Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Make that two hundred and forty-two thousand—maybe even more.’

  She frowned at him again. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That model is ten years old,’ he said. ‘Even a little old lady only driving to church on Sundays would’ve clicked up more than that. You’ve been sold a lemon, Dr Cargill. Someone’s turned the clock back on it for sure.’

  She shifted her eyes from his to the car and back again. ‘I suppose you think I’m gullible,’ she said with a hint of defiance.

  ‘Have you ever bought a car before?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I …’ Her slim throat rose and fell as she swallowed. ‘I used to share one. I lived close to the hospital in London so I didn’t really need one of my own.’

  Jake gave the windscreen wipers a quick inspection. ‘These need replacing,’ he said, dusting his hands on his shorts. ‘I can get a new set of rubbers for you from a mate of mine. He owns an auto parts shop.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to put you or your friend
to any bother,’ she said, looking resentful and yet vulnerable and adorably cute all at the same time.

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ Jake said. ‘You’ll need new tyres soon too. That rear one is practically bald.’

  She worked at her bottom lip again with her teeth, looking at the car with a defeated look on her expressive heart-shaped face.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jake said. ‘I’m sure it’ll get you to the hospital and back all right. But I wouldn’t take it on any long journeys until you’ve had it checked by a mechanic. I can give you the name of one who’ll take care of it for you without ripping you off.’

  ‘Thank you …’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a discomfited gesture.

  ‘I’ll get you a bucket,’ he said. ‘I have one in my garage.’

  ‘Please don’t bother,’ she said.

  ‘It’s no bother.’ Jake walked towards his garage and, fishing his remote out of his shorts pocket, activated the roller door. He ducked his head as the door was rising and grabbed the bucket next to his toolbox. ‘Can’t leave a job half done, now, can we?’ he said as he took the bucket over to the tap and filled it.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  Jake took the sponge from her hand, watching as her eyes flared when his fingers brushed against hers. ‘Stand back,’ he said with a lopsided smile. ‘This is no job for a lady.’

  ‘I’m not sure what gives you the impression I’m completely rubbish at taking care of the simplest tasks,’ she said, bristling like a pedigree Persian cat in front of a scruffy mongrel dog. ‘But I’ll have you know I can wash a car all by myself.’

  Jake moved past her stiff little body to soap up the bonnet of the car. ‘It won’t take a minute,’

  he said. ‘You’re too short to reach the roof in any case.’