Bachelor Dad, Girl Next Door. Sharon Archer

      Dianne appeared beside her. The nurse reeled off the potassium level in the saline bag then held it so Terri could check the label.

      ‘Correct,’ Terri said.

      She walked around to the other side of the gurney so she could more easily examine the wound on his forehead. ‘I want to have a look at your cut, Uncle Mick.’

      ‘Fluids set, Terri,’ said Dianne.

      ‘Thanks.’

      A jagged flap of skin had curled back from the triangular laceration but the area looked quite clean. A simple irrigation and suturing job.

      ‘No! No!’ Her quiescent patient erupted into unexpected action. So quick. One moment she was lifting the dressing and the next she was flying across the room. In slow motion she watched the horror on Frank and Dianne’s faces from the other side of the gurney, their hands uselessly reaching towards her. She saw the sergeant step forward, his mouth tight as he restrained her flailing patient.

      Any moment now she was going to hit the floor. Paradoxical that she had so much time to notice everyone’s expressions but none to organise her limbs to save herself from the inevitable painful sprawl.

      But it didn’t happen.

      Hands reached her, catching her from behind, cradling her against a hard, warm body. Her uncle lay back down in the milliseconds in which she struggled to understand what had happened. She turned her head and looked up into Luke’s grim face. How had he managed to get across the room to save her?

      ‘Are you all right?’

      Pain bloomed in her cheekbone, replacing the numbness of a second ago. His face dissolved and she realised her eyes were tearing up. ‘Yes. Thanks.’

      She tried to move away but his hands held her firmly, preventing her escape. Short of an undignified struggle, she was helpless to free herself. Luke was so large and hot and solid. She felt fragile. Insubstantial. Utterly feminine.

      Though it must have only been seconds, time seemed elastic, stretching to allow her to feel every square inch of contact. He turned her slightly. She could feel his bracing arm behind her back, the fingers that curved around the top of her arm.

      ‘Go and get some ice on that.’ He sounded gruff. His eyes, still fixed on her face, were dark.

      She blinked the tears into submission, embarrassed at this sign of weakness. ‘I have a patient to attend to.’

      ‘I’m taking over.’

      ‘I need to—’

      ‘You need to stand down and let someone else handle this, Dr Mitchell.’ His voice lowered, losing its sternness. ‘I can feel you trembling, Terri. You need to go and sit down.’

      Her defiance ebbed away, making her realise how shaken she felt. ‘Yes. Okay.’

      He frowned suddenly and tilted his head to look at her more closely. His fingers tightened on her flesh. ‘You have a slight nosebleed.’

      ‘Do I?’ As soon as she spoke, she could feel the trickle just below her nostril. Knowing there was physical evidence of her injury made her feel even more vulnerable. An uncomfortable sensation.

      She pulled out of his grip and this time he released her.

      ‘Go and clean up. I’ll finish here then come and have a look at you.’ He turned back to her uncle on the gurney.

      She hesitated briefly, then realised that the others had meshed into a team around Luke to treat her uncle. She spun on her heel and left the room.

      ‘I found you at last.’

      At the sound of Luke’s voice from behind her, Terri jumped. The boxes of twelve-gauge needles she’d been handling scattered across the shelf.

      ‘I wasn’t hiding,’ she said, not entirely truthfully. How long had he been standing there, watching her?

      ‘Hmm. How are you feeling?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ When she’d re-stacked the boxes and regained some of her composure, she turned. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded, one foot crossed over the other. A plain black T-shirt stretched over the chest she’d so recently been clamped against.

      ‘Good. Let’s have a look at you, then, shall we?’ A slow smile curved his mouth as though he read her reluctance and thought it amusing.

      ‘I don’t think we need to. But thank you anyway,’ she said, shooting him a discouraging stare.

      She’d never appreciated how absurdly claustrophobic the long narrow room was with the well-stocked shelves towering along the walls. It was all his fault, of course, the way he was blocking the only exit.

      ‘I think we might let me be the judge of that.’ His smile took on a distinctly determined edge. ‘Just think of it as my self interest.’

      Terri picked up her clipboard and hugged it tightly in front of her torso. ‘Self interest? In what way?’

      ‘If I don’t think you’re up to it, I’ll take over the rest of your shift.’

      He waited with an expression of polite interest as she thought of and discarded several weak excuses.

      ‘Oh, all right. Let’s get it over with, then,’ she muttered. The thought of his hands on her, even in a professional capacity, was nerve-racking. The imprint of their earlier contact still plagued her. Her back to his chest, his fingers on her arms as he turned her…

      She forced down a swallow and pushed away the distracting memory. ‘Where do you want to do it?’

      He raised a brow and his lips tilted.

      She felt heat leap through her system. Oh, God, had she really said that? Please, let the floor open up and swallow her now. ‘The exam.’

      ‘Cubicle three is empty.’ Still grinning, he moved to one side and stood with his back pressed against the shelf. Did he think she was going to squeeze past him? No way.

      ‘After you.’

      He shrugged. ‘Sure.’

      She breathed a sigh when he moved but it was short-lived relief. With his back to her, she could appreciate the broadness of his shoulders, the way his torso tapered to his waist and hips, the long, long legs, the easy way he moved. Her mouth felt suddenly dry.

      Just outside the door, he turned, looking back at her, one brow raised quizzically. She realised her feet were still planted in the middle of the supply-room floor. Silently cursing her distraction, she tightened her fingers on the clipboard and hurried to catch up.

      She walked stiffly to the curtained area, aware of him striding beside her. His lithe, trim body moving smoothly. Unlike her limbs, which felt all angles and awkward gracelessness.

      Perched on the edge of the bed, she watched him bend to wash his hands. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the denim pulling over the line of his buttocks. When he straightened to rip a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, she looked away quickly.

      As he stepped in front of her, she let the deep breath she’d taken trickle out. This was a professional examination, one colleague of another.

      Hospital director of staff doctor.

      It would only take a few minutes.

      ‘Look past me. You know the drill, hmm? Focus on a point on the wall.’ He raised his hand and shone a thin beam of light into her eyes.

      ‘Have you had bleeding from the nose before?’

      ‘Um, a couple of times.’ She was acutely aware of his face near hers as he assessed her pupil.

      ‘Recently?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘How