Emergency Doctor and Cinderella (5 page)

‘Gosh, it’s awfully quiet in here,’ Steph said as she breezed in with a plate of nibbles. ‘Can’t you think of anything to talk about but work?’

‘If you put two doctors into a room by themselves, what else do you expect them to do?’ Eamon asked, reaching for an olive and popping it into his mouth.

Steph gave him a mock-despairing look before turning her gaze to Erin. ‘I hope he hasn’t been boring you. He’s not the greatest conversationalist in the world.’

‘He wasn’t boring me at all,’ Erin said, wishing she could control her propensity to blush. ‘We were talking about…about pets.’

Steph’s eyes lit up. ‘Eamon told me you had a cat.’
She perched on the arm of the sofa next to her brother, crossing one booted ankle over the other. ‘So, do you have a boyfriend?’

‘Stephanie May Chapman,’ Eamon said warningly.

‘What?’ She looked at him in affront. ‘I’m just making conversation.’

‘It’s all right,’ Erin said before he could respond. ‘No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have much of a social life at present.’

‘Maybe we could set you up on a blind date or something,’ Steph suggested. ‘How about it, Eamon? Do you know of any suitable young men lurking around the hospital?’

He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out of the sofa. ‘Keep me out of it,’ he said. ‘I don’t like people meddling in my affairs, and I’m sure Dr Taylor doesn’t either.’

‘Spoilsport.’ Steph pouted. ‘It’s so hard for women to meet decent men these days. You could at least offer up a few suggestions.’

‘I really don’t need—’ Erin began uncomfortably.

Steph was undaunted. ‘When was the last time you went on a proper date?’ she asked.

Erin pressed her lips together, thinking about it. ‘Er, it was quite a while ago.’

‘How long?’ Steph asked.

Erin tried not to look in Eamon’s direction. ‘It was about seven years ago.’

Steph slapped her hands on her thighs as she looked up at Eamon, who was standing in a brooding manner near the windows. ‘See? What’s a young single working woman to do?’

‘You seem to do all right for yourself,’ Eamon pointed
out wryly. ‘You’re only here tonight because your latest squeeze fell through at the last minute. Remember?’

Steph gave her head a little toss as she launched off the sofa arm. ‘I’m going to check on dinner and my text messages to see if he-who-shall-remain-nameless has changed his mind.’

The room was as silent as an ancient tomb once the door to the kitchen closed.

‘Sorry about—’ Eamon said.

‘Maybe I should—’ Erin spoke at the same time.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t let her scare you off. She’s cooked for us; we might as well enjoy it. It sure beats cheese on toast.’

Erin picked up her wine again, and the point of her index finger made a pathway through the beads of condensation around the glass. ‘She’s lovely…’ She looked up at him. ‘You’re lucky to have such a loving family.’

He gave a rueful grimace. ‘You do realise we’re being set up, don’t you?’

Erin felt a frown stitch her forehead. ‘Set up for what?’

‘My family constantly despairs about me not settling down,’ he said. ‘When my father was my age—thirty-four—he was already married and had three children. Steph was a surprise package later in life.’

He came over and topped up both their wineglasses before he continued. ‘When I hopped on a plane to the UK a couple of years ago, they were convinced I’d break all their hearts by falling in love with an English rose and never come home again.’

‘You clearly didn’t—not come home, I mean.’

He gave her another long look before he released a slow breath. ‘No. I didn’t fall in love, either.’

Erin couldn’t quite work out why she felt such a
flooding sense of relief at his words. ‘Is it what you want to do?’ she asked. ‘I mean, settle down and have a family?’

He twirled the contents of his glass, took a sip and then answered. ‘Yeah, I would like that. I’ve enjoyed my freedom as much as the next guy, but I must admit I’m a bit tired of coming home to an empty apartment after a gruelling day in A&E.’

‘Maybe you should get a cat,’ she suggested.

He smiled an enigmatic smile as he raised his glass back to his mouth. ‘Maybe I will.’

Steph came bursting back into the room. ‘Sorry, guys, but I have to dash. Last-minute change of plans. I’ve left everything ready for you. All you have to do is serve it once it’s cooked. It should only take another twenty minutes.’

‘Todd—or is it Tom?—changed his mind, huh?’ Eamon asked.

Steph gave him a glowering look, but it wasn’t long before a sheepish smile broke through. ‘It’s Todd and, yes, he did. I’m going to meet him for a drink.’ She turned to Erin. ‘I’m sorry about this. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not,’ Erin said, starting to rise to her feet. ‘It was nice of you to cook for your—I mean, us.’

‘Don’t get up,’ Steph said, waving her back down. ‘I know my way out. Stay here and chat to Eamon. Have a nice night.’ She blew her brother a kiss and slipped out.

Erin met Eamon’s amused green gaze once the front door clicked shut. ‘She’s so full of life,’ she said. ‘I feel incredibly staid and boring in comparison.’

He sat on the arm of the sofa his sister had vacated earlier. ‘You’re not boring,’ he said. ‘I find you rather intriguing as a matter of fact.’

Her brows lifted. ‘You
have
been leading a quiet life.
I can assure you there is nothing interesting or intriguing about me.’

He studied her for a lengthy moment. ‘Why haven’t you been on a date in seven years?’

Erin glanced at the wine in her glass. ‘Too busy, too tired, too hard to please.’ She lifted her gaze back to his. ‘I’m not into the casual-fling scene. I’m not into settling down, either.’

‘You sound quite adamant about that.’

‘I am.’

‘Who hurt you?’

Erin felt her defences go up like a swish of rapidly unsheathed swords. She had to work hard to hold his steady gaze. Her heart gave a stomping kick against her breastbone, and her stomach clenched as if a hand had snatched at her insides. ‘Why do you ask that?’ she asked in her best cool and controlled tone.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug-like movement. ‘Instinct. Intuition. Gut feeling.’

‘I didn’t know there was such a thing as male intuition,’ she said, trying to keep her expression bland and her tone even. ‘I thought that was the special domain of women.’

‘Let’s put that to the test.’ He got up from the arm of the sofa and came and sat beside her. ‘What’s your intuition telling you now?’ he asked, pinning her with his gaze.

Erin sat very still, but the surface of the wine in her glass rippled with her underlying apprehension. Her mouth was dry and she had to moisten her lips with her tongue in order to speak, an action that his all-seeing gaze closely followed. ‘Um…I get the feeling you’re going to make a move on me,’ she said. ‘But I would strongly advise against it.’

He raised one of his brows. ‘Are you warning me you’ll slap my face if I do?’

‘I don’t believe in using violence to get a message across.’

His eyes went to her mouth for a beat or two before slowly coming back to hers. ‘So, no slapping if I kiss you.’ He rubbed at his jaw, the scrape of his palm across his light stubble clearly audible in the pulsing silence. ‘Now, that’s tempting.’

Erin swallowed. ‘D-don’t even think about it,’ she said; her voice didn’t sound strong and assured, however, but soft, hesitant and slightly breathless.

‘I’ve been thinking about it since I ran into you when I came out of the lift.’ His voice was a deep burr of sound that made the hairs on her scalp prickle with sensation.

‘S-surely not.’ She moistened her lips again. ‘I was positively rude to you.’

His mouth tilted in a little half-smile. ‘Are you apologising for that or just stating a fact?’

Erin was feeling more and more out of her depth. He was within touching distance. She could smell his clean, male scent. She could feel his body warmth. She could reach out and touch his chiselled jaw. She could reach out and run a fingertip over his lips. She could lean forward and meet his mouth halfway…

Or she could be sensible and get off the sofa.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said softly, taking one of her hands before she could use it to lever herself upwards.

Erin drew in a breath, feeling it rattle all the way down into her lungs like loose change in someone’s pocket. She looked down at her hand encased in his. She wondered how many lives those long, clever fingers had saved. Or how many women he had tempted into
his arms and into his bed. ‘This is not a good idea, Dr Chapman,’ she said, still looking at the stark contrast of her lighter toned skin with his.

‘What’s not a good idea?’ he asked in that sexy, deep baritone.

She met his gaze and then wished she hadn’t. Intimate possibilities swirled around them like a heavy fog. She could so easily lose her way.

So very easily.

‘You. Me. Us,’ she said. ‘It would never work.’

‘What makes you so certain about that?’ he asked. ‘You’ve only known me a couple of days.’

‘The work thing…’ Her teeth savaged her lip. ‘It…it always complicates things.’

His thumb began a mind-numbing stroke across the back of her hand, each lazy slide of his warm flesh against hers heating her to the core. She felt the slow melt of her resistance, and vainly tried to stop it. It would be so easy to give in to the eroticism of the moment, so easy to lap at the pool of longing, to dive beneath its rippling depths, to feel the pulse of his pounding blood within her silken cave.

‘Maybe you’re thinking way too much, Dr Taylor,’ he said, bringing her hand up to his mouth.

Erin held her breath as she felt his lips brush against her fingertips. She felt the slight graze from his evening stubble, the brazenly intimate contact sending a shock wave of reaction through her belly and beyond. His eyes locked on hers as his mouth moved against each of her fingers in turn. She felt mesmerised by his touch. It brought such heat to her body, making it tinglingly alive. She gave a little gasp when his lips opened over her index finger, drawing its knuckle into the warm,
dark, dangerously tempting cavern of his mouth. She felt the sexy rasp of his tongue as it curled around her sensitive fingertip, her senses almost exploding in response. She could hear ringing in her ears, a buzzing sound that made her wonder if she was losing control of her mind, drawn into such a whirlpool of longing that nothing else made sense.

‘Damn it,’ Eamon said as he released her hand and got to his feet.

Erin blinked herself back to reality. Of course he would stop this nonsense; someone had to be sensible about this. It wouldn’t do to let this go any further. It was crazy to think otherwise. It was crazy to think…

‘Great timing, don’t you think?’ he asked as he moved towards the kitchen.

Erin frowned as she realised the buzzing wasn’t coming from inside her head at all. It was the oven timer telling them dinner was ready. ‘Er, yes,’ she said. ‘I guess it is.’

‘Do you know how to switch it off?’ he called out from the kitchen. ‘I haven’t used it before. I don’t want to call Steph; I’ll never hear the end of it.’

She got off the sofa on legs that felt like not-quite-set jelly and made her way to the kitchen. Eamon was leaning over the oven, peering at the dials, giving her a wonderful view of his jean-clad, taut behind. She came as close as she dared, reaching past him to press the button which should have had a tiny bell symbol on it but in this case was worn away from use. ‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘It’s exactly the same model as mine next door.’

He straightened and looked down at her. ‘Amazing.’

Erin shrugged. ‘You would have worked it out eventually.’

‘I wasn’t talking about the timer.’

She drew in a shaky little breath as he came closer. She didn’t step away; in a galley kitchen there wasn’t anywhere to go, or so she told herself later. ‘Oh?’ Her voice came out like a mouse squeak.

His arms settled either side of her, his hands resting on the bench, creating a cage for her body. His eyes meshed with hers, holding her entranced as each sensually charged second pulsed by.

‘So, Dr Taylor,’ he said in a low, deep rumble. ‘Where should we go from here?’

Erin carefully inflated her lungs but even so she felt as if a handful of thorns had gone down with the air she breathed in. ‘Um, you step back. I step back. Easy. Sensible. No harm done.’

His lips curved upwards. ‘You think?’

Erin didn’t know what to think. Her mind seemed to have switched off several minutes ago. Her senses were on high alert, each one screaming for more of his touch. Her tongue darted out to moisten her tombstone-dry lips; her heart lurched when she saw his eyes drop to her mouth.

Time slowed, frame by frame, as his head came down, lower, lower, the warm caress of his breath skating over the surface of her lips, heating her blood to a slow boil. Her breath mingled with his, an erotic union that sent her senses reeling even further. She closed her eyes as his mouth brushed hers, like a sable brush against a precious canvas, soft, light, careful. He did it once more, just as lightly, the barely there touch making her lips tingle for more pressure.

He lifted his head a mere fraction, his eyes heavy-lidded as they tethered hers. ‘How’s that intuition of
yours?’ he asked. ‘Do you reckon it’s time to stop or should we risk one more kiss?’

The winds had never had so much caution thrown at them as Erin stepped up on tiptoe, her hips brushing against the rock-hard wall of his. ‘Maybe just one more…’ she whispered.

‘Better make it a good one, then,’ he said, and covered her mouth with the explosive heat and fire of his.

I
T WASN’T
as if Erin had anything in recent memory to compare it to, but she was sure she had never been kissed quite like that before. His mouth was commanding but not too controlling, warm and moist, but not slippery and sleazy. It was experienced, exciting and erotic. It was daring and even dangerous at times when he used his tongue to call hers into a duel-like dance that had blatantly sexual overtones. She was swept away with it, the pull of attraction like an undertow around her lower body. She felt the pounding of his blood against her pelvis as his erection hardened to steel, a thrilling reminder of his potency and power, and her vulnerability to it. Her body melted into his heat, the barrier of their clothes doing nothing to detract from the sensations she was feeling.

His mouth continued its sensual assault, not once lifting, just changing position until she was breathless and dizzy with whirling sensations.

His hands left the bench, cupping her face instead, adding a touch of tenderness that was unexpected and, because of it, all the more enthralling. His tongue circled hers, gently, cajolingly, until she found a rhythm that
matched his: slow and sensual, then fast and furious, backing off to pace the passion and then grinding down again with ravenous need.

Erin’s lips felt swollen but she kept on kissing him, her heart thumping like a madly swinging anvil when his hands moved from her face to settle just below her ribcage. His splayed fingers were so close to her breasts, making them pulse with an ache she had never felt before. Her nipples were tight and sensitive; just the pressure of his chest against hers was enough to make every nerve ending twitch in fevered response.

His mouth softened on hers, slowing down the hectic pace as his hands gently cupped her breasts. She dared not breathe in case he stopped; the slow roll of his thumbs over her distended nipples made her head reel.

She whimpered into his mouth as he moved aside her clothing, that first touch of skin on skin making her insides quiver. His hand was warm and dry and very, very determined. She loved the feel of him exploring her softness, the way she was a perfect fit for his palm. She loved the way his fingers were slightly calloused, as if he was no stranger to physical labour. It reminded her of his arrant masculinity, of the way he was so overwhelmingly male and not for a moment ashamed of it.

His mouth hardened as he deepened his kiss; the grind of his hips against hers and the low, deep groan he gave made her skin tighten with pleasure. It was reckless and foolish to respond so wantonly but she couldn’t help it. It was like trying to stop a runaway train; the momentum was gathering inexorably as each second passed.

His hands moved from her breasts and settled against her hips, pulling her against his burgeoning heat with unmistakable purpose. She felt the frantic flutter of her
pulse as his body signalled its need of hers, the increasing pressure of his mouth and the sexy stab and thrust of his tongue against hers sending her into a wheel-spin. Her body was slick with moisture; she could feel it pooling like warmed honey between her thighs. She had never felt such an overwhelming response; the sheer force of it took her completely by surprise. Was it her hormones raging out of control? Was it because she had not experienced red-hot passion like this before? Did she want him just because she
wanted
him? Was there no other reason than just the most basic pull of primal need to mate with someone potent, to be tamed by the leader of the pack, to be brought to sobbing submission in mind-blowing pleasure?

It was all of that and more, but it didn’t mean Erin was going to give in to it. She had good reason not to. All her adult life she had fought against the instincts of the flesh, knowing how damaging they could be to one’s freedom in the long run. She had seen it first-hand: the devastation of not being able to withstand temptation, the way a life could suddenly spiral out of control, never to be the same again.

She pushed her hands against Eamon’s chest, fighting with herself all the way as she felt the play of hard muscle under her palms. She tightened her resolve, pulling her mouth out from under his. ‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice, not surprisingly, sounding husky.

‘Time to stop?’ he asked, still holding her by the hips.

Erin could feel the throb of his hardened flesh, so close to the achingly empty heart of her. ‘Um…possibly shouldn’t have started,’ she said, running her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting him, tasting temptation, and only just resisting it.

He gave a chuckle of laughter that rumbled against her chest. ‘Don’t you like to live a little dangerously sometimes, Dr Taylor?’

She slipped out of his hold, folding her arms across her chest as she faced him. How like him to laugh at her. To make fun of her, to make light of what to her was so significant she didn’t dare take it further. ‘No, I don’t,’ she stated flatly.

‘Erin…’ He raked a hand through his hair in an endearing, almost boyish manner. ‘Maybe I overdid it a bit. I’m sorry, but you have a very kissable mouth.’

Erin tightened her arms like whalebone stays across her body. ‘There are plenty of kissable mouths you can choose from, but this one is now off-limits.’

He shook his head at her as if admonishing a small, recalcitrant child. ‘You were the one who gave me the go ahead, remember?’

She summoned up a glare but it wasn’t her best effort. ‘One kiss, not a marathon. My lips feel bruised.’

He closed the distance between them, lifting his hand to trace the outline of her lips in a touch so gentle she could only just feel it. ‘Maybe you’re a little out of practice,’ he said. ‘When was the last time you were kissed?’

Erin felt her colour rise. Had he thought her responses clumsy and inexperienced? How embarrassing! No doubt he was used to very experienced, streetwise lovers, women who knew how to take and give pleasure. ‘I don’t have to answer that,’ she said, stepping away from him again.

‘You don’t have to be ashamed of not putting it out there, Erin,’ he said. ‘I’m forever telling my two still-single sisters they should hold back. Men respect it, believe me. We might try it on, but deep down we don’t
want the woman we have a one-night stand with to end up being the mother of our children.’

Erin felt a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach as she looked at him. He would make some lucky girl a wonderful husband and father of her children. He had all the qualities that counted, and besides that he came from a rock-steady background. She knew how important good role-modelling was. She had seen the results of generational violence or addictive behaviour or both. Eamon was so lucky to have a solid foundation to build on. It made her feel the loneliness and isolation of her situation all the more acutely. ‘Thanks for the morality lecture, but you’ve been preaching to the choir,’ she said. ‘I don’t do one-night stands and I have no intention of having children.’

He gave her one of his thoughtful looks. ‘Funny, but I didn’t have you pegged as a career girl.’

‘What makes you say that?’ she asked, frowning at him. ‘My career is very important to me. It always has been and always will be.’

He continued to hold her gaze as if he was peeling back the layers to the truth. ‘If your career was so important to you, it would make sense that you would do everything in your power to enhance your chance of promotion. But word has it you’ve had issues with every director you’ve worked under. Not very wise if you want to advance your career.’

Erin pulled her lips into a tight line. ‘If for once a director was hired who had less of an ego and more of a desire to bring about genuinely good outcomes for patients, I would not hesitate to follow orders.’

‘I am all about good outcomes for patients,’ he said. ‘As to the ego, well, don’t all good leaders need one in order to lead solidly and dependably?’

‘Time will see,’ she said with an arch look. ‘So far all I’ve seen is great inconvenience to staff.’

His brows drew down over his eyes. ‘That’s rather rich coming from you, isn’t it? You haven’t yet attended one ward-round or information breakfast.’

She pressed her lips together before responding. ‘I am under no obligation to do so when I’m on night duty.’

His frown became darker, more threatening. ‘You’ve switched to nights?’

She raised her chin. ‘I read in the document you passed around that the follow-through-care proposal didn’t apply to doctors on night duty. The handover will remain as it stands, given the activity at that time of morning on the wards with the changeover of staff and breakfast and so on.’

His expression tightened, making a white-tipped nerve flicker like beating wings beneath the skin at the edge of his mouth. ‘You really are determined to do things your way, aren’t you?’ he asked.

‘My way works for me.’

‘But what if it doesn’t work for the patients?’ he asked. ‘You lose all contact with them the moment you hand them over. You’ve been lucky so far, Erin, but what if the next patient suffers as a result of something you missed in the primary or secondary survey?’

Erin held his challenging look although she dearly would have liked to shift her gaze from the steely probe of his. ‘I am always very thorough in my assessment and management of patients.’

His eyes became more intent on hers, more focused. ‘What about the pain incident Arthur Gourlay referred to? Mrs Pappas, wasn’t it?’

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, thinking
carefully before she spoke. ‘I know for a fact I signed for her pain-relief. I remember doing it.’

‘Are you saying there are times when you
don’t
remember?’

Erin heard the suspicion cleverly stitched in between each word of his question. Had Lydia Hislop spoken to him about their conversation in A&E about Mrs Fuller’s follow-up pethidine shot? She liked Lydia—she was one of the few nurses she could see herself having a friendship with outside of work—but it didn’t mean the nurse might not have used a private conversation to score some brownie points with the new boss. ‘A&E, as you know, is a busy, often frantic place at times,’ she said, choosing her words with care. ‘And at those times it is a little difficult to remember every single detail—that’s why the drug documentation protocol is in place.’

‘That’s if everyone is using it as it should be used,’ he said.

She frowned. ‘What are you implying? That I’m somehow not following hospital procedure?’

His penetrating eyes surveyed her for a pulsing moment. Erin felt as if she was under a powerful microscope. Every flaw, every chink in her armour, was being pulled apart and examined under intense scrutiny.

It worried her that she had become less meticulous due to the long hours she had worked recently. She had always set such high standards for herself. She hated thinking she might not have performed her job at maximum capacity. It had been a trying time with the death of the young man the other day; her concentration might have slipped. It was understandable; there had been such a lot going on, especially with the news of a new director arriving. And now she had made herself seem
even more unprofessional by responding to Eamon Chapman’s kiss with such wantonness.

Sydney was a big city but the medical world was small. It would only take one person to see them together and it would be all over the hospital. She already hated the gossip the hospital fraternity generated; she hated the stupid innuendoes that people went on about once they suspected two people were involved. Besides that, she hated mixing her private life with her professional one. She liked her life in neat, ordered compartments. She didn’t like blurred boundaries. It made her feel insecure. And kissing Eamon Chapman made her feel very, very insecure. He was clearly toying with her. How convenient was it for him to have her living right next door to call over to play doctors with him whenever he felt like it? And what if he was only flirting with her to get her to see things his way? Did he see her as a challenge to conquer? A trophy he had to collect to show how proficient he was at his job? If so, he was in for a bigger challenge than he realised.

‘That is not what I’m implying at all,’ Eamon said into the tight silence. ‘I am merely saying the system is not completely foolproof.’

‘I know exactly what you’re implying and why.’ She scooped up her purse and keys. ‘I’ve changed my mind about dinner.’

Eamon frowned. ‘Hey, wait a minute. You can’t walk out just like that. Steph’s gone to a lot of trouble. What am I supposed to say to her?’

She gave him a hard little glare as she opened the front door. ‘Tell her she’s right—you were starting to bore the hell out of me.’ And before he could say another word she shut the door in his face.