Dr Chandler's Sleeping Beauty. Melanie Milburne

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      ‘Yeah, what was I thinking?’ Rosie’s shoulders dropped resignedly and she made her way back to her friends.

      Jake let out a quick sigh before he turned to open the door to find his cute posh little neighbour standing there. ‘Hey,’ he said flashing her a smile. ‘You changed your mind. Do you want a beer?’

      ‘Your music is keeping me awake,’ she said, sending him an arctic look. ‘I would very much appreciate it if you would turn it down.’

      Jake ran his gaze over her pretty girl-next-door face with its cloud of chestnut hair that was currently looking more bird’s nest than brushed. Her cheeks had two spots of bright red on them and her plump pink mouth was pushed forward in a pout. ‘My kind of music not your thing, huh?’ he said. He leant indolently against the doorjamb, one ankle crossed over the other, as he rubbed at the regrowth on his jaw. ‘Let me guess … Classical, right?’

      Her gunmetal-grey eyes flashed at him. ‘I hardly see how my taste in music has anything to do with you,’ she said.

      ‘It will if you play the violin at all hours of the day and night.’ He narrowed his eyes at her enquiringly. ‘You don’t, do you? Play the violin, I mean.’

      She gave a little shuffle from foot to foot, as if the ground beneath her feet had suddenly become too hot to stand on. ‘What do you have against the violin?’ she asked, looking at him with an equally narrow-eyed look.

      ‘I knew it!’ he said, thumping the doorjamb with the flat of his palm in victory. ‘It was either that or the viola or the cello. You don’t strike me as a woodwind or brass girl. Strings are your thing.’

      ‘And I suppose no strings is yours?’ she returned, with an arch of one of her brows.

      ‘How’d you guess?’ Jake said, grinning.

      Her eyes gave a disparaging little roll. ‘I can recognise a player at three paces,’ she said.

      ‘We’re not talking about musical instruments, are we?’ he asked.

      Her mouth tightened primly, reminding him of his kindergarten teacher when he’d brought a dead mouse in for Show and Tell.

      ‘I’m not interested in what you do in your private life,’ she said. ‘You can play as hard and as often as you like.’

      ‘Oh, I always play hard and often,’ Jake drawled, watching in amusement as her face deepened even more in a blush as she realised her unintentional double entendre.

      ‘I can see there is no point in continuing this discussion,’ she said in a starchy tone. ‘But let me tell you: your puerile sense of humour is not what I was expecting in an A&E director.’

      Jake looked down at her uptilted heart-shaped face with its glorious crown of tousled hair. He could smell the sweet, old-fashioned but delightful white lilac scent of her shampoo. It danced around his nostrils, teasing them into an involuntary flare. He could see the tiny dusting of freckles on the aristocratic slope of her nose. He could see her currently pursed but tempting full-lipped mouth.

      He felt lust hit him in his gut like a closed-fist punch coming out of nowhere.

      He wanted to bend down and cover those lips and feel them soften and swell beneath his. He wanted to taste the silk of her skin, to run his hands over the gentle slope of her breasts to see if they felt as soft and gorgeous as they looked. He wanted to feel her hands on him, their softness exploring his hardness. He wanted her to come down off that high horse of hers and ride him instead.

      Whoa, there. He slammed the brakes on his thoughts. He had a whole month to go before he cashed in on the bet with his sister. The shortest month, admittedly, but it could prove to be the longest—especially if Kitty Cargill kept turning up in front of him looking so hot and sexy and combative.

      ‘I can’t say you’re quite what I was expecting, either,’ he said.

      Her brows knitted together over her eyes. ‘What do you mean by that?’

      Jake allowed himself a quick study of her mouth before he met her gaze. ‘I had a read-through of your application,’ he said. ‘I was away when the acting director approved your appointment.’

      Her slim throat rose and fell, the action like a small creature wriggling under a carpet. ‘And?’ she said.

      ‘I noted that you’d failed the practical on your ATLs,’ he said.

      Her small white teeth nibbled at her bottom lip. ‘Yes … I’m thinking about doing the Australian equivalent while I’m here,’ she said.

      ‘I expect every member of my team to be on top of their game,’ Jake said. ‘There’s an EMST course I’m directing in a month’s time. There might be a space left if you contact the course co-ordinator, otherwise book in to do the next available one.’

      ‘I’ll look into it,’ she said.

      ‘What made you come all the way out to Australia for three months?’ he asked.

      Her eyes moved slightly to the left of his. ‘It seemed like a good opportunity to get to know my aunt and uncle and three cousins who live here,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t seen them in a while. Years, actually.’

      Jake nodded towards her town house. ‘You bring anyone with you?’ he asked. ‘Boyfriend? Partner?’

      A flush came over her cheeks and her eyes moved away from his. ‘No.’

      His eyes went to her left hand, where a pretty little ring rested. ‘Is that just for show or is there a fiancé waiting for you back in England?’

      She twirled the ring on her finger with her thumb. ‘I’m not engaged,’ she said. ‘This is a—’

      ‘Let me guess,’ Jake said, flashing her another quick grin. ‘A costume?’

      She gave him a gimlet glare. ‘It’s a promise ring,’ she said. ‘I got it when I was sixteen. I can’t get it off.’

      ‘You could have it cut off,’ Jake said. ‘Or would that be breaking the promise?’

      She frowned at him. ‘Is this inquisition really necessary?’

      He gave a negligent shrug. ‘Just making conversation,’ he said. ‘You sure you wouldn’t like a drink? I’ll get the gang to turn the music down. I might even be able to find some Vivaldi or something on the playlist on my iPod.’

      ‘Please don’t put yourself out on my behalf,’ she said, sending him another one of her icy looks. ‘Goodnight, Dr Chandler.’

      ‘Goodnight, Dr Cargill,’ Jake said, but she had already stalked back across the courtyard.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘AND this is the staff tea room,’ Gwen Harold, the unit’s ward clerk, informed Kitty on Monday morning. ‘There’s a larger doctors’ room upstairs, but the lifts are so busy that by the time you get there it’s almost time to get back. Dr Chandler organised this little СКАЧАТЬ