One Night...With Her Boss. Annie O'Neil

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СКАЧАТЬ forced herself to be alert to the players on the pitch. They were, after all, her responsibility.

      As play recommenced, then abruptly stopped, Ali’s senses sharpened. The crunch of shoulder on shoulder, skull on skull was never a nice sound, but these rugby boys didn’t do things by halves.

      The howls of pain coming from the field set her into motion. Drama queens, maybe—but these men were not babies. A player was hurting.

      Oblivious to the roar of the thousands of fans watching the heated North versus South trial match, Ali picked up her pace as the stretcher-bearers joined her on the snow-spackled field. A scrum combined with a slippery playing surface could easily lead to a spinal injury. She hoped for the player’s sake it wasn’t the case.

      The huddle of sweaty, mud-covered men split open as she arrived.

      “Hope you’ve got a strong stomach, Harty,” One of the players mumbled as she made it to the center of the group.

      There, lying on the ground, staring straight ahead as he fought to control his breathing, was Chris Trace—the team’s hooker. To say he was a sight to behold was putting it mildly. She almost had to laugh. She’d wanted a change and this was most definitely not the sort of injury you saw in the Royal Ballet.

      Their player had taken the full brunt of a Southern Cross player’s might. Blood was pouring from a gash in his forehead, and as he swept a hand across his face to clear it from his eyes it looked as though he was going to have one heck of a shiner by the end of play.

      The stadium fell into a hush as both teams stood at attention—waiting for the verdict.

      “All right, Chris.” Ali grabbed her run bag and pulled out some wipes. “Let’s see what price you’ve paid for victory.”

      Spitting out his mouth guard, the athlete tried to grin up at her. A good sign.

      “I’ll be back on the field in no time, Doc. Just put a plaster or something on me and I’ll be good to go.” Chris couldn’t stop the flinch crossing his broad face as he tried to lift his head.

      “No, you don’t!” Ali pressed him back down to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere until I check you out. What happened to your goggles?”

      She smiled down at him, admiring his determination to finish the game. The North Stars were grittily committed to being at the fore of the infamous North against South showdown in just over three months’ time. The last day of her contract. Losing a player to an injury was the last thing they needed.

      She began sponging the blood off his forehead to see how big a gash they were dealing with. Head injuries were big bleeders, and with all the sprawling around in the muck these guys did infection was easy to come by.

      “Goggles popped off when I landed on my face—or someone’s foot knocked them. Can’t remember.”

      “Can’t remember or can’t think straight?” a male voice asked from behind her.

      Ali froze. She knew that voice. It had whispered deliciously naughty intentions into her ear not so very long ago.

      Her eyes moved along the ground from where she knelt with Chris, her breath caught tight in her chest. Blood began to thunder between her ears as a pair of leather shoes came into view and walked to the opposite side of Chris. It was all she could do not to cry out as the owner of the shoes came into view as he kneeled across from her. Oh, she knew him, all right. She knew him intimately. And she didn’t know him at all.

      As their eyes met Ali physically felt the breath being sucked out of her body.

      The Suit.

      Images flickered past her mind’s eye, of their bodies tangled together in a series of sexual acrobatics she’d never believed possible. A wash of pleasure rippled through her and it was all she could do to keep her jaw clamped firmly shut.

      She’d never asked him his real name. Nor had he of her. That had been their deal. One night only.

      Someone needed to pinch her. And fast.

      “Take me through it.”

      He was speaking to her, but looking at Chris. What was he doing here?

      “I want to find my goggles.” Chris tried to push up from the ground again.

      “No, you don’t!”

      “No, you don’t!”

      Ali could barely suppress a surprised smile as she and The Suit each pressed on a shoulder, keeping Chris on the ground.

      “Not until we know what else you’ve done to yourself. How does the socket around your eye feel?” Ali pressed him down again, this time with her hands covered in purple nitrile gloves, before she gently palpated the area.

      “Fine—it’s just the cut, Doc. Honestly. Dr. Tate—tell her.”

      For a second time Ali felt her chest constrict.

      “You’re Aidan Tate?”

      Dr. Aidan Tate? The award-winning sports medicine expert whose articles on non-surgical sports injuries she’d devoured like chocolate? The North Stars’ Chief Medical Officer? And … wait for it … her new boss?

      Well. This was a bit of a pickle.

      The biggest freaking pickle in the whole entire universe!

      Her tummy pirouetted and heated as she stared at him—only just managing to suppress a smile. A short, sharp shake shifted the X-rated images from her mind and she rapidly went back to swabbing away the blood from Chris’s forehead.

      “Earth to Lockhart! Harty? What gives? Am I getting back into play or what? Where are my goggles?” he shouted to the other players, who leapt into action.

      Ali looked up and caught the eyes of her new boss. His face was unreadable. Hmm … This was nothing short of awkward.

      “Got ’em!” One of the Southern Cross players jogged over and handed the protective eyewear to Chris, complete with blood and a tuft of muddy grass. He plopped them on the front of his blood-smeared face and gave Ali a See? I’m Fine grin.

      “Nice look, Chris.” Ali guffawed at the gruesomely comic sight, then looked across at Aidan Tate with a mortified expression. He was her new boss. Never mind that she’d seen him naked. He’d hired her to be a doctor, not to snicker at the players’ made-for-Halloween gruesome faces.

      Way to make an impression, Lockhart.

      She was surprised to see Aidan smirk his approval at her reaction to Chris. She guessed he wanted to make sure the new girly doc could play gross with the rest of the boys.

      She glanced at Aidan again, and he nodded for her to proceed. She couldn’t help but feel whatever she said was going to be under microscopic examination. Which was fair enough. If she’d found out the man she’d had a sizzling one-night stand with was her shiny new employee she would probably have held him to a higher standard.

      “The СКАЧАТЬ