me your key.’
‘I don’t …’
He took her purse from her limp grasp and retrieved the key.
‘Don’t argue and don’t move,’ he said, and headed for the house.
She didn’t go anywhere. How could she? That last episode had left her wanting to do nothing so much as to lie down and die. Her bed in the boarding house was lumpy and none too clean, but it was a bed and right now she wanted it more than anything else in the world. Only her legs didn’t feel like they’d take her anywhere.
After the week she’d had, it needed only this. Of all the stupid hospitals she had to temp in, it had to be Sydney Harbour Hospital during a gastro epidemic.
She wanted to die.
Why was she sitting in Luke’s car?
It was too hard to do anything else.
She closed her eyes and he was back again, carrying her suitcase. That got through … sort of. ‘What …?’ She was trying to get her thoughts in order. She wasn’t succeeding.
‘You’re not staying here,’ Luke said grimly. ‘This place is drug bust central.’ Then his face sort of … changed. He slid into the driver’s seat and pushed up her uniform sleeves.
She got that. No matter that she was dying … he thought she was a crackhead?
Enough. There were some things up with which a girl did not put. Or something. She wasn’t making sense even to herself, but as he tried to check her pupils she found the strength to haul back her hand and slap him. Straight across his cheek with all the strength she could muster. Which wasn’t actually very much. He recoiled but not far, then caught her hands in his before she could do it again.
‘Just checking,’ he said, mildly.
‘I drink champagne every time I get a pay rise,’ she managed through gritted teeth. ‘I’m addicted to romance novels and chocolate. I once got a speeding ticket and a parking fine all in the one month. Evil doesn’t begin to describe me—but I don’t do drugs.’ She tried, very badly, not to sob, as she hauled her hands away from his and fumbled for the door catch.
‘No.’ He leaned over and tugged the door closed, took her shoulders and twisted her to face him. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me, too. Let me out.’
‘I’m taking you home.’
‘I am home.’
‘My home.’
‘You don’t want a junkie at home.’
‘You’re not a junkie,’ he said wearily. ‘I’ve seen enough to know I’ve mortally offended you. Can I start making amends?’
‘There’s no need …’ But her stomach wasn’t up to arguing. Another cramp hit and she doubled over.
He handed her a paper bag but she didn’t need it. There was nothing left.
He waited for the spasms to cease, then magically produced moist wipes. ‘Paper bags and wipes from Emergency,’ he said softly as he cupped her chin in one hand and washed her face. She was so limp she couldn’t argue. ‘You get parking tickets. I steal wipes. Criminals both. You want to do a Thelma and Louise and run for the border?’
‘I … No.’
‘Thought not,’ he said, and fastened her seat belt for her. ‘Let’s find you an alternative.’
His surgical list started at eight and he made it only fifteen minutes late. This morning was his private list, cosmetic surgery. The woman he was treating had travelled overseas to get cheek implants, a reshaped nose and liposuction for her thighs. She’d got what she’d paid for and she hadn’t paid much. She’d ended up with a perforation of the nasal septum, a nasal obstruction and nasal deformity. One of her cheek implants had slipped, which meant her face was weirdly lopsided and her thighs were … undulating. She had lumps and bumps all over the place.
He wasn’t working on her legs this morning. He’d remove the cheek implants first—he wasn’t the least sure of their quality and the last thing she needed was one to burst. Then he needed to focus on revision rhinoplasty and repair of the septal perforation.
She’d need further procedures and he couldn’t be sure she’d look as good as she had when she’d started.
Cosmetic surgery could sometimes be brilliant, restoring self-image, but this time it had been a disaster.
The surgery he’d had as a child had been brilliant.
Luke’s childhood had been made miserable by a massive port wine birthmark almost covering one side of his face. His parents, cold and emotionally detached, had decreed it was simply ‘character building’, but when he’d been fourteen his uncle had stepped in.
‘I’ve arranged the best plastic surgeon I can afford,’ he’d told his father. ‘The kid’s getting that off his face whether you like it or not.’
His uncle was a bachelor, taciturn, unsentimental, refusing thanks. He and the plastic surgeon he’d found had changed Luke’s life and had set him on the path he was on now.
His uncle’s farm had been lifesaving as well. It still was. Even though his uncle was as emotionally distant as the rest of his family, his farm had been a retreat from the world.
He hadn’t been to the farm for two weeks now and he was missing it. Maybe he could take off for a few days. Leave his apartment to Lily. Whoever Lily was.
Not a junkie. An unanswered question.
Don’t get close.
‘So tell me about your lady of the night.’ Finn’s voice from the doorway to his office made him start. Dammit, he should be used to it. He wasn’t. ‘My what?’
‘Your one-night stand. Or your one-morning stand. You planning to make it two mornings?’
‘Leave it,’ he growled. He thought of Lily as he’d left her, huddled in his bed, so sick she could hardly acknowledge he was leaving. He’d stayed with her for an hour and made sure the retching had stopped. He’d left her with fluids, and he knew all she needed was sleep, but still he’d hated leaving her.
And somehow … for some reason he hated this hospital thinking she was … his one-night stand.
Sydney Harbour Hospital. It should read Sydney Scandal Central, he thought. Any hint of gossip was through the place in minutes. A team of skilled medics working long hours under intense pressure, in teams where they were thrown together in emotionally charged scenarios over and over, made for a hotbed of scandal. Up until now he hadn’t added to it.
It drove him crazy, though, the fact that he was being watched all the time. ‘When’s our aloof Dr Williams going to crack and prove he’s human?’
He was aware he was a target; he was aware there were bets—first woman to break his icy barricade. Even a couple of the gay guys had tried.
The gossips would be relentless now, he thought. A one-night stand … They wouldn’t stop.
And Lily? She’d signed up for four weeks’ work and she was labelled from this moment forth.
She was in his bed. They’d find that out in about two seconds flat. Other medics lived in his apartment block, Kirribilli Views. Hell, his cleaning lady was due in there this afternoon. By the time she’d finished dusting, the news would be all over Sydney.
‘She’s not a one-night stand,’ he found himself saying, before he even knew he intended saying it. ‘I already told Dr Lockheart that. I’ve known Lily for years.’
‘Years?’ Finn raised his brows in disbelief. Finn Kennedy made stronger doctors than Luke nervous, Luke thought. The man just had to raise one of those supercilious eyebrows and minions were supposed