The Rebel Doc. Susan Carlisle

a sexual harassment complaint against a catering manager, all ready for her review. Bedtime reading. Geez, bedtimes had never been such fun.

      And why, oh, why did an image of a naked Matteo suddenly flit into her head at the mention of bedtimes? It was impossible these days to think of anything without him straying into her thoughts.

      She was not going to go to the pub. She was going to stay here and work. Neither was she going to indulge any fantasies about him touching her or kissing her or undressing her in a lift … which was her most recent one … or perhaps something in the on-call room. She’d heard many a tale about that kind of thing happening in hospitals. But, no—it was all out of bounds.

      When she eventually looked up again she realised her assistant was watching her while dragging on a coat. ‘Yes, Becca?’

      ‘I don’t know where your head was right then, but it wasn’t here. Maggie’s coming in on Monday at two, Leslie will come straight after her shift on Tuesday at three-thirty.’ Becca smiled. ‘So, you never did tell me why you came back from Theatre so early. Weren’t you supposed to be with Dr Delicious all afternoon, you lucky thing?’

      Oh. That. The hospital grapevine was alive and kicking and the news was bound to spread fast. She might as well front up to it, take the ribbing and move on. ‘You have to promise not to tell a soul. Or laugh. Or anything, at any point.’

      With a very serious look on her face Becca drew a cross over her chest. ‘My word is my honour.’

      ‘I fainted.’

      Becca bit her lips together to hold in a laugh. ‘Aha. Hmm. Okay. Understandable.’

      ‘Really? You think? Honestly?’ Ivy breathed out a sigh of relief. It seemed the legal personnel had the same approach to bodies as she did. Preferring to look at them from the outside rather than the inside. ‘I can’t tell you how much better that makes me feel. I was standing up for such a long time and it was very hot in there.’

      ‘Well, he definitely makes me all hot and bothered too.’

      ‘What?’ She might have known Becca’s answer would be hormone-related. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I didn’t faint because of him, I fainted because the air-conditioning was broken and all my blood was in my feet and, well, I … don’t like seeing inside bodies much. Mr Finelli is just a man. He’s nothing special. No need to get all giddy.’

      ‘Tell that to your face, Ivy. It’s all red and blotchy.’

      Ivy threw her assistant a smile. ‘You know, I preferred you when you were meek and polite.’

      ‘Sorry. Overstepping a little?’

      ‘Yes. Kind of.’ But, truly, Ivy needed some people on her side. After the stuffy atmosphere in the board meetings and the heavy, long hours, which she really deep down didn’t mind, sometimes it was nice to have a little girl time. Usually by the time she got home after a long day her flatmate had either gone to bed or had hit the town with her boyfriend. They had a great flatmate arrangement, it worked well and they didn’t get under each other’s feet, probably because they rarely spent more than an hour a week together. Which meant that Ivy would find herself alone most evenings. Which was fine, given she had so much work to keep her occupied, but sometimes … ‘Are you heading off now? Have a good weekend.’

      Becca shook her head. ‘Actually, I’m heading over to the pub. Everyone goes there on a Friday night. It’s—’

      As her heart fell Ivy interrupted, ‘Oh, you too? Let me guess, tradition, right?’

      ‘Tradition. Yes, most of the admin and support staff go—in fact, a lot of the hospital workers go. It’s always good fun and there’s karaoke later.’

      ‘All the more reason for me to stay here, then.’ Shuffling bits of paper on a Friday night, looking across the road at the lights in the pub. Listening to the laughter. God, she could have her own pity party right here.

      Becca frowned right back. ‘It’s fun. Really. You should come. You don’t have to sing.’

      It wasn’t the singing. It was the company. Certain company that she didn’t want to face again today. ‘No can do. I’m busy.’

      ‘It’ll wait. Turn your computer off.’ With a dramatic flourish Becca stepped forward, stacked the files on the desk into a large pile and handed them over. She grinned, with no hint of apology. ‘I know … overstepping again, but it’s Friday. Take your folders home and read all weekend if you like, but tonight you’re coming for a drink. We never did get to celebrate your arrival here. And it’s about time we did. I can’t tell you what a breath of fresh air you’ve been in here.’

      ‘But … I … Wait …’ To refuse would be rude. But to tell the truth would be embarrassing and refute what she’d just said about Matteo being nothing special. Because, really, he was a teensy bit set apart from other men she’d dated in her dim and distant past. He was attentive and could be gentle and funny in a macho kind of way. Plus, he made her heart skip just a bit. And she was intrigued by him, by a man who could hold her attention longer than any other had. And by that body, which had her pulse racing at the strangest and most inappropriate moments.

      Which was exactly why she had no intention of stepping over the threshold of that pub door.

      ‘Really. No. I can’t. I’m just going to head right on home.’

      ‘Seriously, you’ve got this far, don’t be embarrassed. You’ll be fine, honestly. I bet it happens all the time anyway. People faint, get over it. Come on.’ Becca tugged on Ivy’s arm as she had been doing almost every step through the hospital corridors in an attempt to bring her down here to the pub, despite every excuse Ivy could think of. In the end she’d had to give in because, it appeared, no one was listening. ‘Last one at the bar buys the round.’

      ‘Fine. Just give me a moment.’ Ivy watched her assistant’s back disappear into the pub and took a deep breath. If she didn’t look at him she’d be fine. He’d be in the middle of a group, she’d shimmy past out of eye contact and hide in a dark corner with the rest of the admin staff. No problemo.

      Taking another breath, she pushed the heavy door open and stepped in. The noise was bearable, people sat in groups and she could make out some familiar faces in the far corner, but as the door swung closed behind her everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

      Huh-huh. This was her idea of hell. Even though no one spoke she could almost read their thoughts. She’s the one who fainted. Top lawyer who’s deep-down weak.

      But at least Matteo was nowhere to be seen.

      At the bar Becca was talking to the barman, and beckoned Ivy over. ‘Seeing as you’re paying, I’m having the biggest cocktail they do. A jug of Cancun margarita, I think. What would you like, Ivy?’

      ‘A glass of wine, please. Red.’ Make it a big one.

      ‘They do a nice merlot. Oh, look …’ Becca pointed across to the admin crowd, who were grinning and waving back. ‘Everyone’s so pleased to see you.’

      ‘Or they’re laughing at me.’

      ‘So, Miss Ivy Leigh, you decided to brave it out after all?’ Great. Matteo’s voice behind her thrilled down her spine. She couldn’t see him but every tiny hair on her body was standing to attention in some sort of annoying hormonal salute to his arrival. Maybe the admin crowd hadn’t been waving at her at all, maybe they’d all been giggling and flirting and fluttering their eyelashes at him.

      As she turned she controlled her breathing. She would not be impressed. She would not be impressed. She would not … Wow. Every time she looked at him his eyes pierced her—so dark and intense. And right now they were sparkling with mischief. The shadows and dips of his cheekbones seemed more acute today and he certainly rocked the swarthy tall, dark and handsome cliché. In a collared black shirt that showed off his broad chest and snug jeans that hugged his legs he looked dangerous