Medical Romance October 2016 Books 1-6. Amy Andrews

The oscillating saw with its round blade whined as loudly as any handyman’s saw. She turned it off. ‘The blade vibrates, it doesn’t cut. If it comes into contact with your skin it can’t hurt you. But it won’t, I promise. Once I get down to the last layer I’ll switch to plaster spreaders and some kick-arse scissors.’

      ‘Yep. Cool.’ Pauline nodded vigorously. ‘Let’s do it.’

      It took fifteen minutes to remove the cast. Using the loud saw was actually quite therapeutic. By the time she’d sent Pauline on her way to Callum, Felicity wasn’t feeling anywhere near as annoyed as she had been.

      She did, however, get some dust or fibre in her right eye, which became more and more irritating as she cleaned up the treatment room. She ambled over to the mirror hanging behind the door to see if there was anything obvious. Her eye was red from her rubbing it but there was nothing apparent in it.

      Damn. She’d get a lecture from Bill for sure about wearing the correct safety equipment and she’d only have herself to blame. She’d always considered her own glasses as good eye protection—for plaster removal anyway—and now she was going to have to revise that opinion.

      The irritation grew worse and out of desperation she grabbed a handful of plastic saline ampoules, twisted off their tops and moved to the sink. She leaned her head over and turned it on the side, her right eye down and bent her knees to bring her closer to the porcelain so she wouldn’t make a mess.

      It was an awkward position but at least the saline ran straight into the sink as she gently trickled ampoule after ampoule into her eye.

      ‘What on earth are you doing?’

      Felicity’s pulse leapt both at the unexpected interruption and who it belonged to. Not exactly the most elegant position to be found in, especially as she already felt like an idiot for being in this situation. Her earlier crankiness returned. ‘What does it look like?’

      ‘You got something in your eye?’ His voice grew nearer and she could see him approach in her peripheral vision, coming to a halt, his hands on his hips as he watched her, her eyes about level with his fly.

      She tried valiantly not to go back to that night again but failed.

      ‘Give the man a cigar.’

      ‘Is this from removing the plaster?’

      ‘Yes.’

      He held out his hand for the remaining ampoules. ‘Let me help.’

      ‘I’m fine. You’ve got your early mark, go home.’

      She may have liquid in one eye and a side view from the other but she didn’t need to see his glare—she felt it all the way down to her toes.

      ‘Are you angry at me for some reason? Do you have something against efficiency? Or is this some self-loathing guilt trip of yours because of what happened on the train, which is suddenly now wrong and somehow my fault? Because if we’ve got a problem then I really wish you’d just come out and say it.’

      Felicity glared right back, which was difficult considering what she was doing. Yes, she was angry but it had absolutely nothing to do with the train or any kind of guilt trip. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty but she could never hate herself over that night.

      This was purely about today. Unfortunately it wasn’t her place to chastise the new doctor about the way he practised. Or any doctor for that matter. There were protocols and formal procedures in place for those kinds of things.

      Not that she’d ever had any cause.

      If Dr Dawson asked her how Callum was going she’d say he was diligent and efficient. But if there were complaints from the patients, he was on his own.

      ‘No problem,’ she muttered. She could bite her tongue over this. She would. If it killed her. Because she’d be damned if she did a single thing to make him think she was playing some petulant game because she was embarrassed about what had happened between them.

      ‘Good. Now let me look at your damn eye and see if there’s anything obvious.’

      ‘I already looked. Couldn’t see anything.’

      He folded his arms. ‘So let me check now you’ve treated it.’

      Felicity realised her recalcitrance wasn’t doing her any favours. She could act like a two-year-old or take advantage of the professional help being offered like an adult. ‘Fine,’ she muttered, reaching for the paper towel dispenser nearby. He beat her to it, pulling off two sheets and passing them over as she righted herself.

      ‘Thank you.’ She injected a more conciliatory note into her voice as she dabbed at her wet face. He was offering to help. It wasn’t his fault she was in this situation.

      ‘Over here,’ he said, moving to the centre of the room near the examination bed. He glanced at the overhead light. ‘Where’s the switch for this thing?’

      Felicity tossed the paper towel on the bed and went up on tippy toes to reach one of the vertical handles. She pulled it down and located the switch. Light pooled around them. He squinted and moved so the back of his head blocked the light. The halo affect was disconcerting considering she’d been thinking of him as the devil incarnate most of the day.

      ‘Okay,’ he said, sliding his hands either side of her face. ‘Let me look.’

      The sizzle from his contact was also disconcerting. They were standing close. Too close. Her brain rejected the nearness while her body flowered beneath it. He wore the same aftershave as he had on the train and if she shut her eyes she could almost imagine them being gently rocked.

      Felicity tried to pull away but he held on tight. ‘It’s better, much less gritty.’

      He set his thumbs beneath her jaw and used them to angle her head. ‘That’s good,’ he murmured, obviously ignoring her as he peered into her eyes. Or her eye anyway. Her pulse hammered madly at every pulse point, surely he could feel it beneath the pads of his thumbs?

      He instructed her to look up then down then to both sides, which she did eagerly. Frankly she was pleased to look anywhere but right at his big handsome face in those beyond-sexy glasses. Being up this close and personal to Callum was a seriously crazy temptation.

      It was madness and she reached for something to evoke a bit of sanity.

      Think about Mr Dunnich.

      But all she could think about was how good Callum smelled and she understood a little better why some women stayed with men who weren’t good for them.

      ‘Well...I can’t see anything,’ he announced.

      The statement made her forget she was trying not to look at him as she did exactly that. ‘Quelle surprise,’ she murmured, their gazes locking, his green one intense as his thumbs stroked along her jaw.

      It was so damn good she swayed a little.

      The sensible person inside her scrambled for a reason to pull away, for something, anything to break the spell he was weaving with the seductive stroke of those clever thumbs.

      It was then that she noticed it.

      ‘Your left pupil is misshapen.’ There was an area where the black of the pupil appeared to have bled into the green of his iris. ‘It’s larger than the other one too.’

      That did it. His hands slid off her face and he took a step back. Felicity reached for the table to steady herself as her body mourned his abrupt withdrawal.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Is that genetic or from an injury?’

      The brooding line had returned to his mouth and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. ‘An injury.’

      She quirked an eyebrow. A rusty fork maybe? ‘Are you going to make me guess?’

      It wasn’t any of her business but it didn’t stop her being curious