Can you tell me your name?’
She spoke clearly and the man groaned and mumbled something unintelligible.
‘Do you know what day it is?’
She continued to question the man but was far from satisfied by the results.
Jago stepped closer to her. ‘He could just be very drunk,’ he said coolly, and she knew he was testing her again.
‘Or his symptoms could be the result of his head injury.’ She tried to ignore the explosion of heat that consumed her body as he moved closer still. Breathing in his warm, familiar, male scent, she felt her head swim.
‘So which is it, Dr Westerling?’
She made the mistake of looking at him and his eyes locked onto hers with the power and force of a missile attack.
The mood was suddenly electric and Katy found herself mesmerised by the look of raw, sexual intimacy in his eyes.
Suddenly her breathing was suspended and she struggled to find her voice.
‘I—I need to finish my examination before I can answer that question.’
He dealt her a slanting smile. The same smile that she’d found totally irresistible at the age of eighteen. ‘Then finish it, Doctor.’
Cursing her own weakness and the effect he had on her, Katy turned her attention back to the patient.
She asked more questions, checked the patient’s reflexes and only after completing an exhaustive examination did she make her decision.
‘I’m sending him for a CT scan and then I’m admitting him,’ she said firmly, and Jago lifted an eyebrow.
‘And why is that?’
‘He’s showing symptoms of a serious head injury. Headache, vomiting, disorientation. I’m not prepared to discharge him.’
Confident in her decision, Katy looked straight at him, her heart lifting as she saw the glimmer of respect in his dark eyes.
Finally.
After a week of concentrated hard work.
‘Good decision,’ he said smoothly. ‘Make the arrangements and then come to my office and we can talk about it further.’
Light-headed with relief that she’d done the right thing, Katy suddenly wanted to smile. He’d praised her. He thought she’d done a good job.
But there was no way she was going to his office.
The effect he had on her was just too powerful and if she couldn’t control her reactions she needed to avoid him.
She lifted her chin, her confidence increasing by the moment. She’d done a good job. ‘Can we talk about it tomorrow, please? I was supposed to be off duty an hour ago and I’m going out so I need to go and clean the vomit off my shoes and—’ her eyes challenged his and a small smile touched her mouth ‘—file my nails.’
And remind herself that dreaming of Jago was a fast route to a miserable life.
Jago looked taken aback. Then to her surprise he threw back his dark head and laughed. ‘Tomorrow will be fine.’ He turned to Charlotte, who was gaping at the scene being played out before her. ‘I’m out of here. If you need me, call my mobile.’
Charlotte watched him stride away and looked at her with awe. ‘Would someone mind telling me what’s going on here? You answered him back and he just laughed,’ she muttered, reaching for the notes so that she could make the arrangements for the CT scan. ‘And I can’t believe he let you deal with those drunks. I’ve never known him to act like that before. Normally he’s very protective of the female staff, to the point of chauvinism. I mean, we all ought to deal with the same patients but the truth is when you’re built like Jago you stand more chance with a violent drunk than someone who is built like you. I don’t know what he was playing at.’
Katy gave a weak smile. She knew exactly what he’d been playing at. He’d been waiting for her to fail.
He’d wanted her to fail since the day she’d started.
What she didn’t understand was why.
A pleasant warmth spread through her veins. His reasons didn’t really matter. She hadn’t failed. She’d managed fine, she knew she had. She’d made all the right clinical decisions and she hadn’t needed his help.
She straightened her slim shoulders and gave a small smile, suddenly feeling more confident.
He’d tested her and she’d passed with flying colours.
So now what would happen?
Jago closed the door of his office and ran long fingers through his cropped hair.
What the hell was the matter with him?
He’d sent a woman to deal with a bunch of drunks.
And not just any woman, he’d sent Katy. Katy, who was about as robust as a spring flower.
What had he been thinking of?
But he knew the answer to that, of course.
He’d been trying to prove that she couldn’t cope with the rigours of practising medicine in the A and E department. He’d been trying to scare her away.
Because he didn’t want her here, on his territory, looking at him with those wide violet-blue eyes.
Just thinking of her exceptionally beautiful, heart-shaped face made him harden in an instinctive and powerful male reaction, and he gave an exclamation of disgust.
Hadn’t he learned anything? Was he really that basic that he could forget everything just to satisfy the most primitive of male urges?
What was it about Katy Westerling? True, she was astonishingly beautiful but he met beautiful women all the time and they didn’t make him abandon his usual caution towards members of the opposite sex.
He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t what she seemed.
That the innocent aura that aroused a man’s most fiercely protective instincts was actually just an act.
His hands tightened into fists and his hard jaw clenched as he remembered the photographs her father had shown him.
She might have been a virgin when he’d first slept with her, but less than four weeks later she’d slept with another man.
I love you, Jago.
Remembering the incredibly intimate pictures he’d seen, he growled low in his throat and strolled across to the window of his office which looked out on the ambulance bay.
It was eleven years ago, he reminded himself. And eleven years was a long time. Enough to change a person, and Katy had obviously changed.
The old Katy had been deliciously shy and tongue-tied but the Katy he’d seen in action today was very different from the girl he’d made love to so long ago. Far from buckling under the challenge he’d set her, she’d coped well.
In fact, she’d handled those drunks with an admirable level of skill and tact. There had been every sign that they could have become violent at any minute but she’d reacted with textbook efficiency and had successfully defused any suggestion of aggression on the part of the patient and his friends.
She’d behaved as though she’d been operating totally within her comfort zone, which didn’t make a scrap of sense. When would Katy Westerling, with her over-privileged, protected upbringing, ever have been exposed to drunk, violent men?
His dark brows locked in a frown as he puzzled over her complete lack of concern. She hadn’t even seemed to notice the danger. But some deep-seated instinct told him that she had been all too aware and had known exactly how to cope with it. She’d stood up to them and she’d stood up to him.
He