Carol Marinelli

The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance


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responsibilities and commitments that have nothing whatsoever to do with you. And while I’m on the subject of commitments and responsibilities, you had no right to use my project title as a source of amusement at your heads of department meeting.’

      A challenging light came into his grey-blue eyes. ‘Are you asking to be fired?’

      I held his look with equal force. ‘Are you threatening me?’

      His eyes moved over my face, settling on my mouth as if he was remembering how it felt against his own. I couldn’t stop myself from moistening my lips. It was an instinctive reaction and my belly quivered when I saw him follow the movement.

      His eyes came back to mine and I heard him release a short, whooshy sort of breath, as if he’d had a long, trying day. ‘I wasn’t responsible for that,’ he said. ‘One of the other department heads commented on it. It created a few laughs, sure, but I encouraged everyone to stick to the agenda. What you need to concentrate on is producing data.’

      I wasn’t ready to be mollified even if he had stood up for me, which I very much doubted. I could imagine him smirking along with the rest of them, having a laugh at my expense. ‘I don’t appreciate being the butt of puerile boardroom jokes,’ I said. ‘My research is important to me and I know it can bring about better outcomes. I just need time to prove it.’

      ‘I have no issue with that,’ he said. ‘But that’s not why I asked you to come in here.’

      I hooked one of my eyebrows upwards. Jem calls it my schoolmarm look. ‘Asked?’ I said. ‘Don’t you mean commanded?’

      He gave me a levelling look. ‘One of the nurses mentioned you’re planning to do some extra therapy with Jason Ryder. I’d like you to explain to me exactly what it is you intend to do.’

      I could see the scepticism in his expression. He had already made up his mind. He would rubbish my childhood awakening therapy like he’d rubbished my project. ‘What would be the point?’ I said. ‘You’ll just call it a whole lot of hocus-pocus.’

      ‘Hocus-pocus it may well be, but I would still like to know about it first rather than hear it second-hand from a junior nurse. That is not how I want to run this department.’

      The clipped censure in his tone made my back come up. I could feel every knob of my spine tightening like a wrench on a bolt. ‘Even scientists have to have open minds, Dr Bishop. Otherwise they can be blinded by bias. They only see what they expect to see.’

      His eyes battled with mine as his hands came down hard on the desk in front of him. ‘I’ll tell you what I expect to see, Dr Clark. Patients being treated with proven, testable treatments, not sprinkled with fairy dust or having crystals waved over them. I’m running an ICU department here, not a freaking New Age mind and body expo.’

      I clenched my fists by my sides to stop myself from grabbing him by the front of his shirt. ‘Is there any space in that closed mind of yours for good old-fashioned hope? Or do you always expect the worst just to keep your back covered?’

      A muscle moved in and out in his jaw as he straightened from the desk. ‘It’s not fair to offer hope when there is none. People’s lives—the ones left behind—get ruined by empty promises. Jason’s family needs reliable information and support right now, not sorcery.’

      My eyes flared in outrage. I was so incensed I wanted to hit something. ‘Is that all you wanted to see me about? Because, if not, I have some spells to work on in my cauldron.’

      A flicker of amusement momentarily disrupted the hardened line of his mouth. I got the feeling he was trying not to laugh. Somehow that made my anger cool a little. I liked it that he had a sense of humour. I liked it a lot more than I wanted to admit. ‘There’s one other thing,’ he said.

      I folded my arms like a sulky teenager. I even pushed my bottom lip out in a pout. I know it was childish but he deserved it. Sorcery? Good grief. I hadn’t been to one of my parents’ seances in months. ‘What?’

      ‘We have a situation.’

      ‘We do?’

      I was the one with A Situation. It was getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. Why, oh, why had I been so wretchedly cowardly about being jilted? Why hadn’t I told everyone the truth right from the start? I felt like all my lies had followed me into his office. They were stealing all the oxygen out of the air. It was like being in an overcrowded lift. I was finding it hard to breathe when he looked at me in that all-seeing way.

      ‘Last night—’

      ‘Was a mistake and it won’t be repeated,’ I said, before he could go any further. ‘I can’t believe I did that … we did that. I blame it on the champagne. I never drink on an empty stomach. It was totally out of character and I apologise for any …’ my eyes glanced briefly at his neck ‘… erm … inconvenience.’

      His eyes continued to hold mine but his gave nothing away. It was like a drawbridge had come up. ‘I like to keep my private life out of the corridors of the hospital.’

      ‘Because of your ex?’ I said.

      A flash of something hard moved in his gaze. ‘As I said, I like to keep my private life private.’

      ‘Fine. Me too.’

      He gave me a long, measuring look. ‘If people were to put two and two together, things could get rather awkward for you.’

      They couldn’t get any more awkward than they already are, I thought. ‘How is anyone going to know that what happened last night had anything to do with me?’

      His poker face was back on but I was pretty sure there was a glint of amusement lurking in the back of his gaze. ‘So I take it you didn’t tell your husband?’

      I pressed my lips together. ‘No.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because … he wouldn’t understand.’ It sounded like a tawdry cliché. The bored and lonely, misunderstood wife looking for a bit of fun on the side.

      Matt came around his desk and perched on one corner, his ankles crossed, his arms folded across the broad expanse of his chest. It was the sort of casual but incommand pose that signified a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it.

      It hit me then.

       He wanted me.

      I saw it in the gleam of his eyes as they held mine. I felt it in the electric charge of the air we shared. I felt it in the core of my body where a throb had started like a low, deep ache, slowly building to a pulsating need that radiated throughout my system. I folded my arms, as if that would help contain the fire that was raging in my blood.

      ‘Have you thought about my offer?’ he asked.

      I swallowed tightly. ‘Um … your offer of what?’

      His eyes tethered mine. ‘Exploring this thing between us.’

      This thing between us … It was more than a thing. It was taking me over. My insides coiled with desire. I wanted him as much as he wanted me. The thought of an illicit affair with him was suddenly very tempting. I’d had such a boring sex life. This would be my chance to stretch my boundaries a bit. Gain a bit more experience with a man who truly wanted me. I could throw off my inhibitions and have a fling, like every other girl my age.

      But how could I agree to such a thing while he thought I was married?

      I unfolded my arms and held them stiffly by my sides, shooting him a caustic glare. ‘I suppose you think just because I allowed you to kiss me that it means I’m desperate to jump into bed with you. Well, guess what? I’m not. Going to jump into bed with you or kiss you or allow you to touch me or even look at me like that.’

      ‘Look at you like what?’

      I glowered at him through eyes so narrowed I could barely see out of them. It was like