A Very Special Proposal. Josie Metcalfe

turned to hand her the steaming mug and offer her a giant glass jar of sugar when he caught sight of someone over Amy’s shoulder. ‘Hey, here’s the man who was working on Ruth with me. Have you met our new colleague? He’s just joined us from a hospital on the other side of the world where the sort of thing we deal with here would be nothing more than a walk in the park. Amy Willmott, meet Zach Bowman.’

       CHAPTER TWO

      WITH a strange sense that fantasy and reality had just become inextricably entwined, Amy’s heart almost forgot how to beat.

      It felt almost as if she was turning in slow motion until she finally faced the man who’d been standing behind her.

      There was a weird feeling of inevitability as she looked up into those newly familiar dark eyes but it wasn’t until she caught sight of that sleek dark hair cut close to his head, when once it had curled rebelliously almost to his shoulders, that the pieces fell into place.

      ‘It was you!’ she breathed when she recognised the motorcyclist from the scene of the accident that morning, the broad shoulders she’d admired earlier in the day so much wider and more muscular than those of the teenage boy she remembered so clearly. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

      ‘It wasn’t the time or the place and, anyway, I didn’t know if you’d even remember me,’ he said, then she caught a glimpse of that old familiar gleam in his eyes. ‘So, ABC, how have you been?’

      ‘ABC? Do you two know each other already?’ Ben was trying to keep up with this unexpected development but Amy barely heard him, every atom of her concentration focused on the man she’d nearly looked up on the internet just last night, the man she’d been convinced that she’d never see again because he was probably in prison or dead. Zach was a doctor? In her hospital?

      ‘Amy Bowes Clark was my lab partner for sciences when we were at school together,’ Zach explained with a slightly dismissive air, as though the matter was hardly worth mentioning, and Amy was struck by a pang that felt almost like disappointment.

      ‘You know very well that I never used the Clark, and I regretted ever telling you about it,’ she added crisply, remembering the way it had given him ammunition for teasing her about being far too upper crust for an ordinary state school. But at the same time it had also caused a strange sense of connection with him that he’d actually felt at ease enough with her to tease her about her family name and what it did to her initials. It had been more than he ever had with the other members of their class.

      ‘Dr Bowman?’ called a voice from the door, and all three of them turned to see one of the younger receptionists there. Her eyes were bright with appreciation as they travelled over Zach’s lean frame and Amy was startled to feel the sharp claws of possessive jealousy rake her when he smiled back at the young woman.

      ‘The police just phoned through and I thought you’d like to get the message as soon as possible,’ she said with an ingratiating smile that clearly telegraphed her availability. ‘They said to tell you that they ran that licence plate you gave them, and they’ve tracked the car down. They found clear evidence that it had been involved in a recent accident and wanted to know if it could have struck the patient. They’ll want to compare DNA from your patient.’

      ‘Did they leave a contact number?’

      ‘Oh, yes! Here,’ she purred as she offered him a piece of paper, then added in a blatant attempt at seduction, ‘And I put my number on there, too…in case you needed it for…anything.’

      ‘Thank you for passing the message on so promptly,’ Zach said blandly, tucking the piece of paper in his pocket unread. He turned to Ben and Amy. ‘What are the protocols in the hospital for getting permission for taking DNA samples?’

      There was a silence that went on just a beat or two too long as the woman left the room, clearly crestfallen that Zach hadn’t responded to her invitation with something more personal, but as soon as the door closed behind her there was a definite response from the rest of the males in the room.

      ‘Hey! You’re in there, Zach!’ called one.

      ‘Way to go!’ hooted another. ‘That’s quick work.’

      ‘You haven’t even been here for a day and they’re already panting after you. You’ll have to tell us your secret,’ said a third.

      ‘It’s probably just that I’m new,’ Zach said dismissively, and when Amy saw the darker colour seeping over the lean planes of his face she suddenly realised that he was genuinely uncomfortable with the attention.

      ‘It always happens with fresh meat, male or female, or can’t you remember that far back, John?’ she teased one of the older consultants who’d joined in the catcalls. ‘Give it a day or two for her to see him haggard and unshaven at the end of a long shift and she’ll soon turn her sights on someone else.’

      ‘Now I don’t know whether to thank you for taking the heat off me or feel insulted that you were so dismissive of my charms,’ Zach said so softly that his voice probably didn’t reach even as far as Ben’s ears.

      He’d leaned closer to her, close enough for her to see every one of those absurdly long eyelashes and the start of creases at the corners of his eyes put there, in all probability, by six months of squinting into fierce African sunlight. He was also close enough for her to be able to feel the warmth emanating from his body and smell the hint of soap or shampoo that still lingered on his skin in spite of several hours of hard and often messy work.

      It wasn’t anything with a strong perfume—she couldn’t ever remember him smelling of anything other than plain clean soap and water—and when it was underscored by the individual musky scent of his skin, it made her body react more strongly than Edward’s expensive colognes ever had.

      His raised eyebrow reminded her that she hadn’t replied to his last comment but her brain was so overloaded with his proximity that she couldn’t even remember what he’d said.

      Luckily, her blushes were spared by a head appearing around the door to announce the imminent arrival of several ambulances and she was left with the choice of scalding her mouth, trying to finish her coffee too fast, or abandoning the mug. She abandoned it with one last longing look and a mental note to try again soon. Her brain would soon slow down if she became dehydrated.

      The brain is a perverse thing, she mused an hour later as she ducked a flailing fist as she tried to position an IV.

      The patient on the table was suffering from multiple injuries from a car crash, yet, in spite of the fact he desperately needed their help, insisted in trying to fight them off.

      Her own brain was no more logical.

      Her first response to having to leave Zach to get to work on the unending influx of patients was relief. But, at the same time, her brain seemed to be silently counting the seconds until she could see him again, desperate to know whether her initial reaction to his presence had just been the result of shock.

      It must be, she told herself reassuringly. It couldn’t be anything more than a knee-jerk reaction to meeting the man she’d been thinking about just last night. She’d got over that silly crush years ago.

      Really? taunted the voice inside her head. Then why are your eyes searching him out every time you walk to your next patient and why are you straining your ears for the sound of his voice?

      ‘That’s just because…because I want a chance to find out what happened to turn his life around,’ she justified defiantly under her breath as she pulled on a second pair of gloves to treat one of the department’s ‘regulars’—a young drug addict whose HIV had already developed into full-blown AIDS.

      ‘What happened this time, Tommy?’ she asked gently as she took in the battered face. The way he was hunched over with his arms wrapped protectively around his ribs told her that they were probably in the same state.

      ‘Some