Gold Coast Angels: How to Resist Temptation. Amy Andrews

went into free fall at the sight of Cade lounging in the doorway. His business shirt was rolled up at the elbows, his tie knot loosened, somehow making him look more wicked frat boy than a skilled prenatal surgeon. ‘Cade,’ Callie said, turning back to face Kathy for the sake of her sanity, ‘is being too kind.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ he said, and Callie didn’t need to look around to know he was closing in—she could sense it. ‘You put the twins’ interests first and sought the most cutting-edge treatment option available. That’s gutsy. Trust me, a lot of doctors out there rank voodoo higher than what I do.’

      His sleeve brushed hers as he drew level and Callie’s stomach looped the loop.

      Ray stuck out his hand and Cade shook it as he said, ‘Voodoo or not, we owe both of you.’

      ‘Just remember,’ Callie said. ‘Weekly ultrasounds are vital. Vital. A good diet and rest, too. You’re at a higher risk of premature birth so you really do need to take it a little easy.’

      ‘I will,’ Kathy promised.

      ‘Ray?’ Callie said, addressing him. ‘You and I both know that Kathy wouldn’t know how to take it easy if it came up and bit her on the backside so I’m relying on you to police it, okay? It’s very important.’

      ‘Hey,’ Kathy objected good-naturedly.

      Ray nodded, ignoring his wife. ‘No worries, Doc.’

      ‘Is she always like this?’ Kathy grumbled to Cade.

      Cade looked at Callie speculatively. Who knew? He knew she was a consummate professional. He knew she was an excellent neonatal specialist. He knew she wasn’t afraid to take a risk.

      But he hadn’t stuck around long enough in any of his dealings with her in the past to know what her bedside manner was like. To know that she fussed over her patients—and not just the babies.

      Who’d have thought that beneath her busy, professional exterior she was a bit of a softie?

      ‘Only with those who don’t obey my rules,’ Callie jumped in, not wanting to hear whatever answer Cade was cooking up in his brain. Talking about her like she wasn’t here was just too intimate somehow and she’d already been forced into enough intimacy with him this week, thanks to this case.

      Sure, they’d worked on cases before—the occasional consult—but this one felt more personal. Was it timing, landing so soon in her lap after the fundraiser and her five-thousand-dollar bid? Or the excitement and professional milestones involved? Or was it the rapport they’d both built with Kathy and Ray as they’d worked together in the fight for their twins’ lives?

      ‘You must be ready to knock off,’ Kathy said, changing the subject. ‘Please tell me you guys swan off to glamorous city nightclubs on the weekend, dancing and drinking fancy cocktails until the sun comes up.’

      ‘Don’t answer her.’ Ray smiled. ‘She’s just trying to live vicariously.’

      Kathy stuck her tongue out at her husband. ‘Spoilsport. Do you know how long it’s been since I had a cocktail or danced till dawn?’

      Callie laughed at the note of longing in Kathy’s voice but couldn’t help but notice the protective way she cradled her belly. ‘I hate to break it to you but a glass of red wine and an early night is about as exciting as it gets.’

      ‘Yep,’ Cade confirmed, ‘hitting the beach is about it for me.’

      Although he did have a sudden hankering for Shiraz.

      When Callie’s foot hit the still-warm sand a couple of hours later she told herself it was about getting some fresh air. Just because she didn’t often come to the beach it didn’t mean she couldn’t. She had felt restless after work and when the ocean was a stone’s throw away it had seemed stupid not to take advantage of it.

      Not that she wanted to swim. But a walk was a healthy outlet for her restlessness and if she should happen to bump into Cade in his boardies—all wet and clingy—well, that wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy.

      With a good hour before the sun would even begin to fade from the sky, Callie slogged through the thick, softer sand, heading straight for the shoreline where it was easier to navigate. The patrolled area of the beachfront was relatively busy and she dodged groups of teenagers whooping it up in thank-god-it’s-friday jubilation and holidaying families taking advantage of the damaging Australian sun finally losing its sting.

      The tide was on its way back in as Callie set out, walking away from the impressive Surfers Paradise skyline behind her. A brisk wind picked up her hair and she was pleased she’d pulled it into a loose, low ponytail. The way strands had already tugged free and whipped across her face didn’t bode well for the state it would be in when she got back to her apartment.

      She kept her eyes fixed on the choppy ocean as the crowds thinned out. An occasional jogger passed her but other than that it was just her footprints in the sand before the ocean quickly erased them. Water occasionally licked at her ankles and splashed up her legs and she pulled the skirt of her strapless black sundress up a little, anchoring it into the elastic sides of her underwear to try and keep the hem dry.

      The number of people swimming lessened as she moved farther away from the flagged area and Callie couldn’t help but feel concern for those who were swimming outside the boundaries of what the professionals considered safe. The Gold Coast was known for its fabulous beaches and magnificent surf, which was one of the advantages of working at the GCCH—killer views from every floor. But it was also notorious for its dangerous rips and all-too-frequent drownings.

      The last thing she wanted to do on her relaxing walk was to have to pull someone out of the ocean half-dead.

      Realising she was thinking like a doctor rather than enjoying the ambience, Callie, reined in her thoughts.

      Beach. Zen. Bliss.

      Relaxing.

      No NICU. No sick twins. No work for two whole days. No on-call, either.

      Breathe in. Breathe out.

      Breathe in. Breathe out.

      That worked well for a few seconds until the form of the jogger heading in her direction became clearer and she realised it was a shirtless Cade. That’s when she forgot the breathing-in bit for a moment or two until the words ‘Oh, hell’ fell from her lips of their own volition and things returned to their normal function.

      Sort of.

      What a fool she’d been to think he looked better in his scrubs than a tux. Clearly, his birthday suit was going to win hands down when it came to things Cade looked good in. Certainly if the top half was anything to go by!

      He recognised her at about the same time she recognised him and he gave a surprised smile and a half wave as he continued to pound towards her. She slowed her pace as his tanned, nicely muscled chest swayed closer into her line of sight with every movement of his body.

      Her gaze dropped lower, following the fascinating trail of hair that arrowed down, bisecting the ridges of his abdomen before disappearing beneath the band of shorts that rode very low on his hips.

      She stopped as Cade pulled up in front of her and said, ‘Hey.’

      Sweat beaded on his forehead but he didn’t even have the decency to be too out of breath or smell sweaty. In fact, her nostrils flared as salt and sand and sea mixed with Cade’s earthy male fragrance. A wave swamped her ankles and she didn’t even notice until he grabbed her elbow and pulled her higher up the beach.

      ‘You jog,’ she said, dragging her gaze to his face, where a slight shadow darkened his jaw. ‘I thought Americans preferred the gym.’

      Cade laughed at the stereotyping. ‘I used a gym in New York because it’s a bit far to the beach. But in L.A. I used to jog on the beach all the time.’ He stuck out a leg and bent at the waist, performing a stretch now that he’d