Waking Up With Dr Off-Limits. Amy Andrews

know about the nurses involved as well.’

      ‘Sure.’ She nodded. Her parents, her grandmother and all the folks back home would be tickled pink to see her in the glossy pages of a national magazine.

      And if it meant she got to spend more time with Adam then that suited her fine as well. Between her shifts and his social calendar she’d barely seen him since he’d been home.

      They all trooped down to theatre eight and Brad chatted with them about the project while the photographer scoped the room out. When Adam divulged that he and Jess were actually housemates as well, Brad became very excited, talking about how it would make another great angle for the photos.

      Half an hour later, Jess was thoroughly sick of smiling. They’d had their pictures taken in every place and pose imaginable. Near the operating table, in the anaesthetic room, with trays of instruments and in front of imaging equipment, with their masks on and their masks hanging half off, scrubbing up at the sinks and drying off.

      ‘Just a couple more,’ Brad said, consulting with the photographer over their cache. ‘How about more casual shots this time? More like two friends, two colleagues having a laugh together after a hard day’s work in the OR?’

      Jess thought that Brad watched too much television but if it meant that her facial muscles could soon cop a break then she was game.

      ‘How’s this?’ Adam asked, slinging an arm casually around Jess’s shoulders.

      ‘Good, good,’ Brad enthused as the photographer clicked away.

      Jess wasn’t so sure about that as her whole body went on alert. Her nipples tightened in her bra and she thanked goodness for the bagginess of her scrubs. All she had to do was a lean a little and her whole side would be pressed against his.

      She could smell his clean male aroma, warm and vital in the cool, sterile surroundings, and the urge to turn her face and burrow it into his neck was surprisingly urgent.

      ‘Now look up at each other,’ Brad instructed to the clicking of the lens. ‘Like it’s been a good day and you’re going home to veg out in front of the tele with a nice cold beer.’

      Adam laughed. ‘I usually hit the surf when I get home.’

      ‘Okay, that’s good.’ Brad nodded. ‘What about you, Jess? What do you like to do when you get home?’

       Wait for Adam to come home from the surf in his wet boardies.

      Jess swallowed. ‘This time of the day I usually head to the Stat Bar, meet the girls for a drink.’

      Adam laughed. ‘You mean perv at the guys that jog by with no shirts on.’

      Jess gasped and looked up at Adam. ‘We do not.’ Well, she didn’t anyway. And the other three didn’t any more either.

      ‘Ruby reckons that’s exactly what you all do.’ He grinned.

      The teasing light in his eyes twinkled at her and his smile was so sincere she found herself smiling back. ‘Well, maybe occasionally,’ she admitted.

      He laughed and she laughed back, his hand light on her shoulder.

      ‘Perfect.’ Brad beamed as the photographer nodded at him. ‘Perfect.’

      Fifteen minutes later Jess was stepping out of the front door of the hospital in the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn to work, her hair in its regulation ponytail. She sucked in a deep, satisfying breath.

      Working in a windowless environment after growing up in the wide open spaces of the outback was something she just couldn’t get used to and she never took that first breath of fresh air for granted.

      ‘Hey, Jess, wait up.’

      Jess didn’t have to look around to know it was Adam calling her. But she did anyway, powerless to resist his lure. He was also in jeans but wore a business shirt to dress them up—untucked, of course. It seemed to strike the perfect balance between casual and professional.

      ‘You heading home? I’ll walk with you.’

      Jess nodded and they fell into step. Home was an easy ten-minute walk down the hill.

      ‘You heading to the Stat Bar now?’

      ‘Yep,’ she confirmed. ‘You going for a surf?’

      Adam smiled. ‘How’d you guess?’ They walked in silence for a few moments. ‘Did I notice on the calendar that it’s your birthday in a couple of days?’

      Jess nodded. ‘Sure is.’

      ‘Are you having a shindig?’

      Jess shook her head. ‘Nah. I’m going home for the weekend so no doubt Mum and Gran will throw a little party for me.’

      ‘Oh, come on,’ Adam cajoled. ‘I didn’t think you girls needed an excuse to throw a party. It’s your birthday. You can’t just do nothing. Besides, I feel like a party.’

      Jess looked at him. ‘Really?’ She wondered if she’d be so bold as to ask him for a birthday kiss? ‘Well, I guess …’

      ‘Good. That does it then.’ He grinned. ‘Get the girls to spread the word.’

      Jess rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, sir.’

      Adam chuckled. ‘So how old are you going to be?’

      Jess took an internal breath. ‘Twenty-four,’ she murmured.

      He slapped his forehead theatrically to cover the internal groan as she gave voice to the paltry number. ‘Still a baby,’ he teased.

      Jess opened her mouth to object at the unfairness of his statement. To say, no, not a baby. A woman. A fully fledged woman with a woman’s desires. But a car beeped as they waited for the lights to change at an intersection and people crowded all around them, also waiting for the green flashing man.

      It was hardly the kind of thing you said to someone surrounded by a bunch of strangers.

      She wished she didn’t look so young. That she could add ten years. Hell, she wished she could add one or two. She didn’t want to be twelve years younger than him. She didn’t want him to think of her as some young girl with a silly crush.

       As a baby.

      Maybe it was time she showed him she was all grown up?

      CHAPTER THREE

      JESS eyed Adam’s bedroom door from the kitchen as she mixed a dash of melted chocolate into the already decadent icing mix. He hadn’t come home last night. Not that she’d seen anyway and she’d stayed up very late, feigning interest in some rubbish movie.

      He’d gone on a date with some ward nurse from the hospital so she figured he was still playing hard.

      The radio, which she’d tuned to the country music station, serenaded her as she took her frustrations out on the icing, beating it into lumpless submission.

      The oven timer rang, interrupting her activity, for which her arm muscles were exceedingly grateful.

      Jess turned and opened the oven door. A wave of heat rolled over her as the aroma of perfectly cooked Anzac biscuits permeated the entire room. Jess inhaled deeply as she took them out and upended them onto a cooling rack.

      The kitchen smelled like baking day back home and she felt suddenly homesick. Her forthcoming trip home couldn’t get here fast enough.

      Jess pushed the biscuits aside and dragged the chocolate cake she’d cooked that morning closer. She’d just spooned a dollop of icing onto the cake when Adam sauntered into the kitchen.

      ‘Mmm. Something smells amazing,’ he said.

      Jess looked up. He was lounging in the archway, one shoulder shoved against the jamb, a suit jacket hooked via