The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance

I was alone with a man I had only met the day before.

He was my boss, sure, but if things had been different—like if I weren’t pretending to be married—I would have been perfectly happy if we were left alone for the next week. Month even.

‘Might as well make the most of the situation,’ Matt said, as he reached for the champagne bottle.

I watched as he poured the bubbles into the two glasses. My fingers brushed against his as he handed me my glass. My heart fluttered and thumped like it had developed wings and a limp. My pulse raced. I took a sip … more than a sip, to be honest. It’s why I don’t drink too often. If I’m feeling nervous I drink more than I should.

Before I knew it the glass was empty. I could feel the alcohol hit my bloodstream like rocket fuel. I felt light-headed but maybe that had more to do with the fact that Matt was standing close enough for me to hear him breathing. I could smell those grace notes of lemongrass and lime. I could see the shadow of stubble on his jaw, so dark and so sexy I wanted to trail my fingertips across it to see if they would catch like silk does on something rough.

He put his glass down after only taking a sip. I saw his eyes move between each of mine, back and forth, and then his gaze dipped to my mouth. I stopped breathing as his head came down as if in slow motion.

I know I should have stepped away. All it would have taken was half a step. But my feet were glued in place. Bolted to the floor. I lowered my lashes as his warm breath danced over my lips. I’m not sure how long we stood there like that, with our breaths mingling so intimately. It felt like no time at all and yet it felt like forever. I ached for him to close the distance. Every cell in my body was throbbing in eagerness. I could feel the entire surface of my lips tingling for his final touchdown.

And then it happened.

I’m not sure which one of us moved first but suddenly his mouth brushed mine, a feather-light touch that triggered a seismic reaction in every nerve in my lips. I felt them tingle and fizz as his mouth came back for more, harder this time, an increase in pressure that made my heart bang against my breastbone like a church bell pulled by a madman. His lips were warm and dry and firm and commanding. They were hard and then they were soft, tempting and then teasing. I stepped up on tiptoe, my breasts pushing against the hard wall of his chest; at the same time one of his hands settled in the small of my back and brought me closer.

I felt the outline of his body from chest to thigh. It was imprinted on my flesh, setting off spot fires everywhere we touched. My breasts swelled and ached and my nipples tightened. My belly quivered against the ridged plane of his. My pelvis throbbed as I felt the length and potency of his growing erection.

I hummed with pleasure against his lips, and then he deepened the kiss with a bold sweep and thrust of his tongue into my mouth. The sensation of our tongues meeting was like an eruption. I leaned into him, into his kiss as if it was my only source of sustenance. I tasted the hint of champagne he had sipped, but it was the mint and maleness of him that was even more addictive.

I took succour at his mouth, letting my tongue wrangle with his in a catch-me-if-you-can game that made my spine shiver in reaction. Fireworks went off in my head. My brain was so jazzed by the sensations I was feeling it was like being short-circuited. Thoughts and rationality were pushed aside as lust and need took over. I had never had a kiss so exciting, so utterly captivating I forgot all sense of time and place. I was swept up in the moment of rapture, of feeling desired and desirable, of feeling feminine and powerful in a way I had never experienced before.

His hands were suddenly cupping my face, his fingers splayed across my cheeks as he savoured my mouth as if it were his last meal. The desire that arced and burned between us took me by surprise. I had a feeling it took him by surprise too. I felt it in the way he groaned as his tongue tangled with mine, the way his body ground against mine in that primal search for satisfaction. I could feel the potency of him against my belly, the blood surging in him, extending him. Hardening him.

My own body was in raptures of excitement. I could feel lust blasting through me like dynamite blasts through shale. My inner core quivered, moistened, swelled and ached. My breasts felt fuller and more sensitive where the wall of his chest was abrading them. My lips were swelling under the mounting pressure of his mouth, my tongue fizzy with delight as it danced with his. He took my lower lip in his teeth in a soft little play-bite that made every hair on my scalp shiver at the roots. Then he swept his tongue over the spot he’d nipped, salving it, teasing it into wanting more.

I nipped at his lip, taking the flesh between my teeth and gently tugging, my insides shuddering with pleasure as he made a guttural sound of approval. I went at him again, not just his lip this time but his neck as well. I practically turned into a vampire. I sank my teeth into his skin and sucked and sucked. I probably would have drawn blood but for the fact he took me by the hair at the back of my head to control me.

But I didn’t want to be controlled. Something inside me had got out of its cage. It was on a rampage. It was hurtling through every boundary or barrier I had put up in the past. My wild woman was on the loose. She was wanton and shameless and hot for action.

I went for his mouth again, crushing my lips to his, searching for his tongue with a brazen stroke of mine. He was ready and waiting for me. It was hard to tell who was more in control or if we both were on some crazy out-of-character roller-coaster ride of wild animal-driven lust.

His hands were at my breasts, shaping them through my clothes as his mouth kept up its passionate assault on mine. The feel of his hands cupping me was so wickedly delightful. It didn’t matter that three layers separated his flesh from mine. I felt his touch as if he had stripped me stark naked.

I wasn’t letting him cop a feel unless I got one too. I put my hands on him through his trousers, shaping him, teasing him with the bold stroke of my fingers. He was so hard I could feel the blood pounding through him. And he was getting harder. That thrilled me more than anything. There’s nothing more of a turn-on than feeling a man’s ardent desire for you. It made my desire flare like fuel exposed to a naked flame. I practically exploded with a fireball of lust that shook me to the centre of my being.

Every part of my body quaked with need, with longing so primal and so intense I felt like a stranger to myself. I realised then how lacklustre Andy had been. He had never touched me through my clothes as if he was too impatient to take them off before he had me. He had never growled and groaned against my mouth as if he was imbibing a potent drug and it was the only thing keeping him alive. He had never made me feel as if I was the only woman who could bring him undone with just a kiss.

I should not have thought of Andy. Talk about taking a cold shower. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped down the back of my dress.

What was I doing?

I pulled back from Matt as if he had suddenly turned to fire. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I said, acting like an outraged virgin in a Regency novel. I know it was a little late for such histrionics but I had to make up some lost ground. What sort of woman did he think I was? Or was he the type who got off on dallying with married women? I had met plenty of men like that. They disgusted me. They had no sense of loyalty. No sense of the damage they were causing.

His expression was unmistakably mocking. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘What’s wrong?’ I all but spluttered the words at him. ‘You know exactly what’s wrong! This is wrong. Us kissing like this. It’s tacky. It’s gross. It shouldn’t have happened.’

He arched a brow. ‘Because I’m your boss?’

I swallowed so tightly I could hear it. Gurhdt. ‘Not just that. I’m not … available.’ For some reason I couldn’t say the word ‘married’. I was thoroughly fed up with the word. I wished I never had to hear it again. Married. Yukkety-yuk. Every time I said it I felt sick with shame at how everyone had looked at me back at home when I’d told them the wedding was off. Of course Andy had left that awful task to me. All those exchanged glances that spoke volumes. The I-told-you-something-wasn’t-right-about-those-two looks that made my stomach lining corrode with nausea. The pitying looks were the worst. I would do anything to avoid seeing someone look at me that way again.

And I mean anything. Including carrying on a charade that was causing me more angst than anything else in my life so far. And that was saying something because my life has not been a tartan-blanket-and-wicker-basket picnic, let me tell you.

Matt’s eyes held mine in a lock that made me feel raw and exposed. ‘That wasn’t the message I’ve been getting from the moment I met you.’

I was frowning so hard I reckoned even if I’d had Botox in my forehead it would have run off scared. ‘I’ve met men like you before. You get off on the challenge of scoring with someone who’s off limits. It’s all a game to you. Once you achieve your goal you move on to the next target.’ I stepped up close again and poked him in the chest with my index finger. It hurt like hell because his chest was like a wall of marble but I wanted to drive home my point. But on a subconscious level I think I just wanted to touch him again. ‘Find someone else to play with, Dr Bishop. I’m off the market. Got it?’

His smile was lazy and his eyes sexily hooded, and trained on my mouth as if he couldn’t wait to devour it again. His hand captured mine before I could pull it away and he held it firmly against his chest, right over where his heart was beating. I could feel every thump. The doctor in me couldn’t help noticing how fit he was. He had a resting pulse of forty-five bpm, which was pretty damn good. Right now mine was running as if I had arrhythmia. ‘If you change your mind, call me,’ he said. ‘We could make an interesting pair.’

I curled my lip. ‘Friends with benefits?’

His eyes glinted. ‘Do you need a friend, Dr Clark?’

I needed my head read. That’s what I needed. Because when he looked at me like that I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to push him backwards towards the bed and crawl all over him and climb into his skin. But somehow I managed to get my wild woman back in her cage and snick the lock back in place.

I put up my chin and gave him an icy glare. ‘Get your hands off me and keep them off me.’

He held my look for a heart-stopping moment.

I felt the tug of war between our wills. It was like two strong forces that had never encountered that level of oppositional power before. The energy in the air was electric. Supercharged. Crackling like a high-voltage current along a tight wire.

I was the first to look away. I had to otherwise I would have confessed all then and there. But I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want him to think I was on the lookout for a rebound fling. That I was so desperate to be found desirable that I would get down and dirty with a man I had known less than twenty-four hours. I wanted to salvage my dignity in the only way I knew how. Pretence. Anyway, I was good at it. I’d been doing it all my life in order to fit in.

I gave my hand an almighty tug and stalked over to where I had left my bag. I shoved it over my shoulder in an affronted manner, tossing my head—even though I know there is no way on earth anyone can actually toss their head, or roll their eyes, come to think of it—and wrenched open the suite door.

‘Honeymoon over?’ he said.

I looked at him over my shoulder. His mouth was lifted in what I was coming to know as his trademark sardonic smile. I let fly with a very rude two-word phrase that basically told him he could … well, I guess you get the idea.

I closed the door with a satisfying snick. I was glad I’d had the last word.

It’s not often I get the chance.

CHAPTER FIVE

I’D BEEN HOME half an hour when I suddenly realised how quiet it was. Not just my house, which was like a proverbial tomb—even the rickety floorboards had stopped creaking. No, it was my phone. I would normally get a call from the hospital about a patient, or Jem would text or call or Mum or Dad would check in. Yes, in spite of their anti-capitalist ranting, they both have smartphones.

But nothing. Zilch. Nada.

I picked up my bag and searched in its depths for my phone. I usually slip it into one of the inner pockets so I can access it quickly. Sometimes it switches to silent if I’m not careful, or vice versa, which was incredibly embarrassing the last time I went to the cinema. The looks I got! Of course it went off right in the middle of the most important scene in the movie. And it was set on one of my Looney Tunes ring tones, which kind of wrecked the poignantly romantic mood.

Anyway, my phone wasn’t where I normally put it so I had to go deeper. I swear to God all those jokes about what a woman carries in her handbag are true. I carry my life around in mine. I’m sure one of my shoulders is permanently lower than the other from lugging around the weight of my bag. I fished out my diary—I know there’s an electronic one on my phone, but I still like writing things down because I remember them better that way—and then I took out my lip gloss and a wand of mascara and a little pack of tissues with red kisses on them.

I grimaced as I thought of the kisses I’d just exchanged with Matt Bishop. What on earth did he think of me? I had acted like a wanton slut. I had pressed my body against his in the timeless keen-to-mate manner. I’d acted like a tigress in oestrus. It was utterly shameful. What on earth had got into me? I’d been kissed before and nothing like that had happened. In recent times when Andy had kissed me I’d mentally made lists in my head—the wedding invitations, the flowers, the place-setting cards, which aunt to sit next to which aunt—that sort of thing. I had never burst into molten heat like lava blowing out of a volcano.

I tossed the tissues aside and dug deeper. I took out my purse, which is so loaded with loyalty cards I can no longer close it properly. Finally I upended my bag and let everything fall out on the kitchen bench. But apart from a shower of receipts and loose change and the spare key to Jem’s place, and two tampons and a furry cough lozenge, there was no phone.

I frowned as I thought of the last time I used it. I didn’t have a landline so there was no point in trying to call it. I didn’t fancy going out in search of a public phone box, which were as scarce as alley cats with morals in my area. It was too late to knock on Elsie’s door to ask to use hers and since Margery Stoneham was away … That’s when it hit me. My place wasn’t just quiet because my phone was missing.

Where the flipping hell was Freddy?

I called out as I searched in every room. I looked behind doors and in corners. I pulled back the curtains to see if he was playing a game of hide and seek but all I found that was remotely animal-like were dust bunnies. My heart was going into arrhythmia again. I was a cardiac infarct waiting to happen. My hands were shaking and my legs trembling as I stumbled through the rest of the house. Up the stairs I went, calling out at the top of my voice. I didn’t care if I woke the neighbours. I didn’t care if I woke the dead. I didn’t care if I lost my voice in the effort. I had to find that dog! Margery would kill me if anything happened to her precious baby.

I came back down the stairs with a clatter, my feet almost tripping over themselves. I was breathing so hard it sounded like I was wheezing. I was close to crying too but I didn’t want to admit it. I’m not a crier. Not any more. Not since the fifth grade in primary school when everyone laughed at my hair. My parents were in their no-shampoo phase. They believed every shampoo and conditioner contained toxic chemicals that would give us all cancer.

We didn’t wash our hair with anything but homemade soap for months. Thank God that phase didn’t last any longer. Jem and I got head lice, so our parents decided a few toxic chemicals would come in useful after all.

I checked the back garden but there was no sign of Freddy. Even his paw prints in the snow from when I’d taken him out for a pee before I left with Matt had disappeared as another fresh fall had come down.

I bit my lip to stop it from quivering and rushed back into the house. He had to be hiding somewhere. A dog didn’t just disappear into midair. This wasn’t a sciencefiction show or one of those Las Vegas illusionist’s acts. This was my life! My totally screwball life, admittedly. I had been watching Freddy the whole time … Or had I? I had been so worked up about getting outside on the footpath to wait for Matt. Had I let Freddy out without realising it? There was no other way he could have got out. I hadn’t left any windows open and, anyway, none of them were low enough for him to jump out. Could he have slipped past me without me noticing? He was only a little dog, and a devious one at that.

I raked my hand through what was now a bird’s nest of my hair. I felt sick and sweaty and icy cold at the same time. My overactive imagination was conjuring up horrid images of Freddy squashed flat on Bayswater Road, or mangled underneath a car and dragged for miles. Or kidnapped and held for a huge ransom. Or sold into one of those ghastly fighting dog rings that operate underground. I choked back a sob as the doorbell rang. It was the police, I was sure of it. They were here to tell me the dog I was supposed to be minding was deceased.

I wrenched open the door but it wasn’t the police. It was Matt Bishop. For a moment I just looked at him numbly. The siren of panic screaming in my head had taken away my ability to speak. I was barely able to string two thoughts together. My head was pounding with the effort of trying to keep control of myself and not fall into fits of wild hysteria.

He held up my phone. ‘You left it in my car.’

I didn’t care about my wretched phone. I took it from him and all but tossed it on the little table in the front hall. ‘Have you seen Freddy?’ I asked.

His brow furrowed. ‘Freddy?’

‘The little dog I had in the park,’ I said, my breathing still all over the place. ‘He’s gone. Disappeared. Vanished. I can’t find him anywhere.’ I could hear my voice cracking and swallowed to clear the blockage of emotion strangling me. ‘He must have got out. I have no idea how. He was here when I left with you. I’m sure he was.’

‘Where have you looked for him?’ Matt asked in a deep, calm voice, which kind of made mine sound all the more hysterical.

‘Everywhere,’ I said. ‘Inside and outside, back and front. He’s not he-e-e-re.’ I dragged ‘here’ out like a whiny kid having a tantrum. I know. Dead embarrassing.

‘What about his owner’s house?’ he asked. ‘Have you looked there?’

I swear to God I could have kissed him. I almost did. I had to physically restrain myself from throwing my arms around his neck and smacking a big fat smoocheroo on his gorgeous mouth. I hadn’t thought about Margery’s place. It was the most obvious place to look but in my panic I hadn’t even thought about it. ‘Let’s check,’ I said instead, and scooped up my coat and scarf off the peg.

I was in such a rush to put it on I got myself in a tangle. Matt came to the rescue and held my coat behind me like a well-bred gentleman does and helped me guide my arms through the sleeves. Was it my imagination or had his hands given the tops of my shoulders a gentle and reassuring everything-is-going-to-be-all-right squeeze?

For a nanosecond I breathed in the scent of him. I allowed myself a tiny moment of feeling him standing behind me like a strong tower I could lean on. I wasn’t used to leaning on anyone for support. I hadn’t even let Andy do it, well, because he was rubbish at it, to be honest. But for that tiny fraction of a heartbeat I caught a glimpse of what it would be like to have a partner who would stand by me, who would be strong when I was falling apart, who would take control and sort out the mess I had stumbled into and make it all work out, like unpicking a really hideous knot.

We walked the few houses down to Margery’s place. The snow was falling in earnest now. It was really quite romantic, come to think of it. It was like a scene from a film—a guy and a girl walking along the street in search of a missing dog. I just hoped this one had a happy ending.

Matt used the light app on his phone to shine on the footpath so I didn’t lose my footing. I guess he must have worked out by now I was pretty clumsy when I got stressed.

When we got to Margery’s front porch there was Freddy, sitting on the doormat, shivering so hard he vibrated like a two-stroke engine. I rushed to him without thinking and bundled him into my arms, only to get one of my hands nipped for my trouble. Even though I was wearing woollen mittens—my ones with kitten faces on them, including whiskers, which might have had something to do with why Freddy attacked me—his teeth sank into my flesh almost to the bone. Well, not quite to the bone, but it sure felt like it.

‘Ouch!’ I said another word, actually, but you get the idea.

Freddy jumped out of my arms—I might have dropped him but I’m not sure—and started whining and scratching at Margery’s front door.

‘Are you okay?’ Matt asked.

I shoved my hand in my pocket. ‘Fine.’ I looked at the pathetic sight of the shivering dog desperately trying to get inside his house and felt a wave of compassion flow over me. ‘Poor little boy. He misses his mum.’

‘Separation anxiety,’ Matt said. ‘It’s because his owner treats him like a human instead of a dog.’

I glanced at him in the light being cast from the streetlight. His face was cast in shadow but the light was still strong enough to show the dark, unreadable sockets of his eyes and the long blade of his nose and his unbelievably gorgeous mouth. ‘Yes, well, Freddy is all Margery has now her husband is dead. She has no family other than a sister who doesn’t let her bring Freddy with her when she visits so what sort of sister is she?’

‘I once minded my sister’s pet rat. That’s sisterly love for you. I hate the things, but I did it because I love her.’ I guess the throbbing pain in my hand was making me run off at the mouth or something. I finally got my motor mouth under control and gave Matt a sheepish look from beneath my half-mast lashes. ‘Sorry. Rant over.’

He gave me one of his crooked smiles. ‘No problem.’

I looked back at Freddy. ‘So, little guy, we’d better come to some sort of understanding. I’m filling in for your mum so you have to do things my way. No more Houdini pranks, okay?’

Matt produced Freddy’s lead, which he had wisely taken from my hall table. I’d been in too much of a state to even think about it. He snapped it on the dog’s collar and led him away from Margery’s front door. ‘I’ll walk back with you,’ he said.

I felt foolish and embarrassed as we walked back to my house. In the last thirty-six hours I had given Matt Bishop an impression of myself that was comical rather than competent. Panicky rather than professional. And—even worse—sexually available instead of committed.

I considered telling him about my cancelled wedding. I had just enough time in the distance between Margery’s house and mine. Surely he would understand, given what he’d hinted regarding his parents’ marriage? What if I just told him about my stupid postcard fiasco and how I’d been caught off guard when I’d arrived at work? How I had felt too embarrassed to explain and lied to save face. It was a perfectly understandable reaction. I wasn’t the first person in the world to utter a little white lie or two. Maybe he’d told a few himself. Surely he’d understand. Who didn’t tell a few lies now and again? It was part of being human.