THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... by Scarlet Wilson Page A

quick as she could get this over and done with, so she could turn her back to dispose of the syringe.
    “Ouch.” He was rubbing his arm in mock horror. “It’s all in the technique, you know.”
    “Yeah, yeah.” She started washing her hands again. “You’re not supposed to rub your arm, you know.”
    He shrugged. “Everyone does. It’s an automatic response. Being a doctor doesn’t make me any different.” His arm was still exposed, and this time, instead of focusing on the muscle, her eyes focused on the skin.
    It was full of little pock marks and lumps and bumps. The obvious flat scar from a BCG vaccination. He followed her eyes and gave her a grin. “A lifetime’s work. Chicken pox as a child, then a whole career’s worth of DPA vaccinations.”
    She pulled up her other sleeve. “Snap.”
    His finger touched her skin again and she felt herself suck in her breath as it ran over her BCG scar. He was standing just a little too close for comfort but seemed completely unaffected.
    He turned and smiled at her. “At least you don’t have chicken pox scars.” Maybe it was the lazy way he said it or the way his smile seemed kind of sexy.
    “Oh, I do. Just can’t show them in public.” She couldn’t help it. The words were out before she had time to think about them. She was flirting. She was flirting with him. What was wrong with her?
    That was the kind of response that her sister might have given. The kind of response that had men eating out of the palm of her hand and following Isabel’s butt with their eyes as she walked down the hallway.
    But this was so not a Callie response.
    What was she thinking of?
    It wasn’t that she was some shy, retiring virgin. She’d been on plenty of dates and had a number of relationships over the years. But she wasn’t the type of girl who walked into a bar and flirted with a man. She was the kind of girl who met a man in a class or in a library, and went for a few quiet drinks before there was any touching, any kissing.
    She wasn’t used to being unnerved by a man. To find herself flustered and blushing around him. It made her cringe.
    But Sawyer seemed immune. Maybe women flirted with him all the time? He just gave her a little wink and crossed the room. Now he was in midconversation with the second-year resident, explaining where some of the supplies were kept and how to access them.
    He obviously didn’t feel heat rising up the back of his neck to make him feel uncomfortable.
    She took a deep breath and moved. Out to the madness of the corridor, where the incessant sound of phones ringing must be driving everyone mad.
    She picked up the nearest one as she passed. The voice made her stop in her tracks.
    “Callie? Is that you?”
    Evan Hunter. It must be killing him to be stuck at Headquarters instead of being in the thick of things.
    “Well?” His abrupt tone was hardly welcoming.
    It was beginning to annoy her. Every phone call she’d had from this man had started with him snapping at her and shouting orders. Wasn’t he supposed to be supporting her?
    He knew she’d been flung in at the deep end.
    “Hold on.” She set down the phone, ignoring the expletives she could hear him yelling as she walked over to the whiteboard on the wall. The DPA team was well trained. Every piece of relevant information and the most up-to-date data was right in front of her. She didn’t need to run around the department asking a barrage of questions.
    She watched as a member of staff rubbed one number off the board and replaced it with another. The potential ‘at risk’ group was now at five. Not bad at all.
    A list of queries had appeared around the containment facility. She would need to get onto them straight away.
    The only glaring piece of information that was missing was around the plane. There was the number of passengers, with the number of contact details obtained. Three hundred passengers—with contact details for only seventy-six.
    This was taking up too much of