notch, and he had to stuff his hands in his pockets to stop himself reaching out and touching her. Stroking her. She was still the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met, all softness and lush curves. He wanted her so badly, it was a physical pain. Worse, because he could remember how it felt when she touched him, could remember how it felt to lose himself inside her.
When their waiter brought cold drinks and hot, crispy nachos, Max’s discomfort was magnified a hundred times, because he reached for the snacks at the same time as Marina and his fingers brushed against hers. It was the lightest, most casual touch, but every nerve-end in his body screamed into life. It felt as if his blood were fizzing through his veins.
He was extremely glad that his jeans were relatively baggy. The last thing he wanted was anyone noticing his arousal, or guessing his reaction to Marina—especially Marina herself.
Cool, calm and casual. That was how Marina had decided to play it tonight, when Max had turned up.
Except he would have to wear a T-shirt that brought out the slate-blue of his eyes. She’d fallen in love with his beautiful eyes all those years before, though she’d forgotten how long his lashes were. How he’d looked when he was asleep, like a fallen angel. Sexy as hell.
Yet there were also definite changes in him. She could see dark shadows underneath his eyes, and there was a kind of wariness and a reserve about him that she didn’t remember from before, though maybe that was a result of his years working for Doctors Without Borders. She knew from talking to colleagues in her last hospital that the experience changed you.
But the thing that she really noticed was that Max looked… unloved.
It made her want to hold him close, tell him that everything would be OK because she was there, and she…
Oh, hell. She really had to stop thinking like this. It hadn’t worked out last time; admittedly, they were both four years older and wiser now, but there was too much debris from the past for it to work out this time.
Though she couldn’t deny that the attraction was still there between them. When their fingers had accidentally brushed each other’s over the nachos, pure desire had rippled down her spine. And when she’d glanced at him he’d masked his expression quickly—but not before she’d noticed how huge his pupils were. Given how bright the lights were in the bowling alley, she had a pretty shrewd idea that Max was remembering the same kind of thing that she was.
Touching.
Tasting.
Losing themselves in each other.
They were really going to have to talk about this. But not at the hospital, and nowhere that they were likely to be spotted together or overheard; the last thing she wanted was for them to become the hottest topic on the hospital grapevine. She’d think about it over the weekend. Plan her strategy. And she’d tackle him on Monday.
CHAPTER FIVE
E XCEPT on Monday there wasn’t any time to think. Marina was working with Max in Resus, and there was a constant stream of cases—a woman with chest pain, a man with severe abdominal pain and an elderly man with a transient ischaemic attack. The team was working flat out, and they had just about enough time to grab half a sandwich before the next shout.
Max looked grim. ‘We have a teenager on his way in. He was on his bike, not wearing a helmet; a car clipped him and he came off and hit his head. GCS 7.’
A Glasgow Coma Score of 7 meant that the boy was unconscious and unresponsive—and it was harder to judge his injuries. Given that he’d hit his head, his injuries could be severe. Life-threatening, even.
‘Stella—can you warn radiology that we’ll need an urgent CT scan, please, and get neurology on standby?’ Max asked.
Moments after the handover, Marina could see that the neuro obs weren’t good. She wasn’t happy with the boy’s pulse rate or his blood pressure, and even less happy that he still hadn’t regained full
When their waiter brought cold drinks and hot, crispy nachos, Max’s discomfort was magnified a hundred times, because he reached for the snacks at the same time as Marina and his fingers brushed against hers. It was the lightest, most casual touch, but every nerve-end in his body screamed into life. It felt as if his blood were fizzing through his veins.
He was extremely glad that his jeans were relatively baggy. The last thing he wanted was anyone noticing his arousal, or guessing his reaction to Marina—especially Marina herself.
Cool, calm and casual. That was how Marina had decided to play it tonight, when Max had turned up.
Except he would have to wear a T-shirt that brought out the slate-blue of his eyes. She’d fallen in love with his beautiful eyes all those years before, though she’d forgotten how long his lashes were. How he’d looked when he was asleep, like a fallen angel. Sexy as hell.
Yet there were also definite changes in him. She could see dark shadows underneath his eyes, and there was a kind of wariness and a reserve about him that she didn’t remember from before, though maybe that was a result of his years working for Doctors Without Borders. She knew from talking to colleagues in her last hospital that the experience changed you.
But the thing that she really noticed was that Max looked… unloved.
It made her want to hold him close, tell him that everything would be OK because she was there, and she…
Oh, hell. She really had to stop thinking like this. It hadn’t worked out last time; admittedly, they were both four years older and wiser now, but there was too much debris from the past for it to work out this time.
Though she couldn’t deny that the attraction was still there between them. When their fingers had accidentally brushed each other’s over the nachos, pure desire had rippled down her spine. And when she’d glanced at him he’d masked his expression quickly—but not before she’d noticed how huge his pupils were. Given how bright the lights were in the bowling alley, she had a pretty shrewd idea that Max was remembering the same kind of thing that she was.
Touching.
Tasting.
Losing themselves in each other.
They were really going to have to talk about this. But not at the hospital, and nowhere that they were likely to be spotted together or overheard; the last thing she wanted was for them to become the hottest topic on the hospital grapevine. She’d think about it over the weekend. Plan her strategy. And she’d tackle him on Monday.
CHAPTER FIVE
E XCEPT on Monday there wasn’t any time to think. Marina was working with Max in Resus, and there was a constant stream of cases—a woman with chest pain, a man with severe abdominal pain and an elderly man with a transient ischaemic attack. The team was working flat out, and they had just about enough time to grab half a sandwich before the next shout.
Max looked grim. ‘We have a teenager on his way in. He was on his bike, not wearing a helmet; a car clipped him and he came off and hit his head. GCS 7.’
A Glasgow Coma Score of 7 meant that the boy was unconscious and unresponsive—and it was harder to judge his injuries. Given that he’d hit his head, his injuries could be severe. Life-threatening, even.
‘Stella—can you warn radiology that we’ll need an urgent CT scan, please, and get neurology on standby?’ Max asked.
Moments after the handover, Marina could see that the neuro obs weren’t good. She wasn’t happy with the boy’s pulse rate or his blood pressure, and even less happy that he still hadn’t regained full
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