Bachelor Dad, Girl Next Door. Sharon Archer

blue eyes. The last of the nausea receded. ‘No.’

      ‘How heavy were your previous bleeds?’

      She frowned and pulled back, pulling herself together at the same time. ‘I’ve had a tiny nosebleed here, not an arterial haemorrhage.’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ He appeared to shake himself mentally as he slipped the penlight back into his top pocket. ‘I’m going to examine your cheek.’

      ‘Fine,’ she said through tight lips, closing her eyes, hoping to shut him out, so close, so threatening to her peace of mind. A rustle of fabric, the tiniest feather of air across her skin. Had he moved closer? Just the thought made her heart kick into a frantic, irregular rhythm. She was too scared to open her eyes to check.

      A few tense seconds passed. Why didn’t he just get on with it?

      Then the subtle torture began. Gentle probing fingers travelled down her nose, across her cheekbone, around her eye socket.

      Nasal bone, glabella, maxilla, zygomatic.

      Breathe in and out. In and out. Perhaps if she recited the muscles. There were so many of them…

      She couldn’t think of a single name.

      Closing her eyes had been a bad idea. Sure, it meant she couldn’t see him but the other sensory information was overwhelming. The heat of his body reached out to her. His smell—part soap, part tantalising masculine musk—surrounded her. Small whispery sounds of each inhalation, exhalation. How much more measured and normal his breathing was than hers.

      His touch was warm and deft. The skin beneath his fingertips was alive with nerve endings. Nearby cells seemed to quiver in anticipation of their turn.

      She swallowed, feeling so thoroughly shaken now that she didn’t dare open her eyes lest he read her ragged state.

       Think of something else. Now!

      Work. The emergency department.

      ‘How’s Uncle Mick?’ she said, dismayed to hear her breathlessness.

      ‘Uncle Mick?’ He sounded preoccupied. ‘Oh, yes. Mick.’

      After a moment, he cleared his throat. ‘I’m just waiting for the blood results to come back. Particularly the sodium level. I noticed you had a half-strength saline bag standing by.’

      ‘Yes.’ She pushed the answer out, working hard to keep her tone even. Concentrate on work, on the technicalities. That would surely bring her back to an even keel. ‘I was worried about hyperosmolar hyperglycaemia.’

      His fingers stopped moving, the tips resting softly on her skin. The moment hung, oddly alive with possibilities. Had he finished?

      Finally, she opened her eyes and looked straight into his, so close. He looked almost puzzled. His pupils were huge, making his eyes dark and intense. For a second, she thought she read a match to her own helpless awareness in the inky depths. Was it real? Or was she desperately trying to see something so she’d feel better? Something to tell her that she wasn’t the only one caught by this sensual spell?

      Hard on the heels of that thought, she realised it would be better if the weakness was hers alone. How much more difficult might it be to resist the temptation to explore this if she knew he felt the same way.

      ‘Dr Daniels?’ Dianne’s voice broke the spell.

      Shock shuddered all the way to Terri’s toes.

      Luke snatched his hands away from her face as though she were contaminated. He blinked and the earlier, intense look was gone. Now his expression was easy to read. Shock, plain and simple.

      ‘The lab’s just rung through the results for the sodium and blood sugar on Mick Butler,’ said Dianne, seeming not to notice anything amiss.

      Terri felt heat rushing to her face. She wanted nothing more than to cover her cheeks with her hands. Bowing her head, she brushed a crease on her scrubs.

      ‘Results. Yes. Good.’ Luke cleared his throat. His apparent discomfort was a small balm to Terri’s frazzled system. ‘Er, what are they?’

      ‘Sodium, one hundred and forty. Glucose, twenty-four.’

      ‘Right. Thanks, Dianne.’ The rasp had gone from his voice. ‘We won’t need to change to the half-strength normal saline.’

      Out of the corner of her eye, Terri saw him dig his hands into his jeans pockets.

      ‘How’s your nose, Terri?’ asked Dianne. ‘That was a real thump Mick gave you.’

      ‘I’m fine.’ Terri looked up, making her lips stretch into what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘No lasting damage. Just a bit tender.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ Dianne’s hazel eyes searched her face.

      ‘Yes.’ Oh, God, think of something to say, before Dianne says anything else. The woman was a fantastic emergency department nurse but no diplomat. But Terri’s rattled brain didn’t produce anything in time.

      ‘You’re looking very flushed. Almost feverish. Do you think you’ve got a temperature? Will you be all right to stay on duty?’

      Terri scowled as she slipped off the bed. ‘Yes, of course I’ll be right to work the rest of the shift. If I look flushed it’s because the two of you are looking at me as though I’m something squashed on a microscope slide. Perhaps you could both take yourselves off and find some other poor specimen to peer at.’

      Unconcerned by the tart response, Dianne grinned then delivered her parting comment. ‘You’re going to have a shiner.’

      ‘Such a good look for an accident and emergency doctor,’ Terri muttered. She glanced at Luke. ‘Are you going home now?’

      ‘Will you be okay for the rest of the night?’ His voice was low and warm.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ she said briskly. She needed to take herself in hand. His concern was professional. She couldn’t let that lovely, rich voice fill her with this inappropriate neediness. ‘Thanks for your help and, um, for catching me.’

      ‘No problems.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

      She watched him go. If her roiling confusion was anything to judge by, it was going to be a physically and mentally draining twelve months.

      Perhaps it was time to consider moving on. Her contract only had six months left. But she didn’t want to move. She’d been thinking about extending her contract. It felt wonderful to be home. Comfortable, safe, reassuring after the trauma she’d been through. It felt like the best place for her while she got back on her feet.

      Port Cavill had everything. Wonderful people, gorgeous setting, a great hospital, a world-class motorcycle track.

      Unfortunately, it also had Luke.

      But it only had Luke for a year. Could she survive that long?

      CHAPTER FOUR

      TERRI’S cottage door was open but there was no answer to his knock. Through the window, Luke could see the small sitting room. A subdued golden glow from the lamp made it cosy and welcoming in the dusk. A far cry from the cramped and messy look he’d cultivated while using the cottage as his bachelor pad in his late teens.

      He hesitated. She couldn’t be far away, perhaps down on the beach. Should he follow her down there? Perhaps he should take her absence as an opportunity to slide away unnoticed. He’d been calling himself all the fools under the sun for coming down here anyway…

      But when his feet moved it was to follow the path around the cottage, past her bike tucked in the rickety garage.

      The shushing of waves grew steadily louder as he approached the line of trees edging the grounds. He picked his way through the grove and paused on