Tempted by Mr. Off-Limits

by Amy Andrews

  Lola smiled. ‘Of course. Go. I’ll see you later.’

  Grace darted off and Lola glanced at Emma and smiled before getting back to work. It was going to be another long night.

  * * *

  Lola was mentally exhausted as she entered the apartment eight hours later but her body was buzzing. In just a few days it had become scarily accustomed to Hamish being there and this morning was no different. In fact, it was probably worse.

  They’d relaxed the rules about their roomie-only relationship and her cravings were growing.

  Not even the prospect of telling him about Wesley’s death seemed to put a lid on the hum in her cells. Lola knew Hamish was holding out hope that Wesley might make some kind of meaningful recovery, even though the news had been dire since the beginning. Hamish had asked after him every morning and Lola had filled him in on what she knew.

  She doubted Wesley’s death would come as much of a surprise but it would no doubt take a piece of Hamish’s heart as it had taken a piece of hers.

  ‘Hey, you.’

  Lordy, he was a sight for sore eyes, lounging against the kitchen benchtop, a carton of orange juice in his hand. Her breath hitched as she pulled up in the doorway. He’d obviously just had a shower as his hair was damp and all that covered him was a towel slung low on his hips. His chest and abs were smooth and bare, his stomach muscles arrowing down nicely to the knot in the towel.

  ‘I was hoping you’d still be in bed.’

  He gave a nonchalant shrug but ruined it with a wicked grin. ‘I’ve been for a run.’

  ‘Of course you have.’

  Lola laughed, feeling like an absolute sloth in his presence as she walked straight into his arms. His hands moved to the small of her back as hers slid up and over his shoulders on their way to his neck, revelling in the warm flesh and the taut stretch of his skin over rounded joints and firm muscles.

  She sighed, grateful that the temperature had eased yesterday afternoon and she could get this close and personal without being a ball of sweat in five seconds flat. She pressed her cheek against a bare pec, the steady thump of his heartbeat both reassuring and thrilling. When he tried to break the embrace she held on harder.

  ‘Lola? Everything okay?’

  She could hear the frown in his voice and she pulled away slightly, gazing up into his face. His face did funny things to her equilibrium. How had his face come to mean so much to her in such a short time?

  ‘Lola?’ His hands slid to her arms and gave a gentle squeeze. ‘What?’

  Even with his brow creased in concern, his blue eyes earnest, she wanted to lick his mouth. ‘It’s Wesley.’

  He didn’t say anything for a moment but she was aware the second he knew what she was about to say. ‘Oh.’

  Lola stroked her fingers along the russet stubble decorating his jaw line. ‘He was declared brain dead just before I started last night.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Hamish nodded. ‘Guess that was inevitable.’

  ‘Doesn’t make it suck any less.’

  He gave a half-laugh. ‘No.’

  Lola cuddled into him again, her cheek to his pec, hoping her body against his would be some kind of comfort. His arms came around her as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

  ‘He’d be a suitable donor, right? Did his family consent?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lola broke away to look at him.

  ‘Yeah?’ Hamish brightened. ‘That’s fantastic.’

  Lola beamed at him. She couldn’t agree more. ‘And guess what?’

  He smiled. ‘What?’

  Strictly speaking, what she was about to tell him was breaking patient confidentiality, but healthcare professionals often did discuss patients past and present, particularly in overlapping cases where there’d been multi-team involvement, so Lola didn’t have a problem divulging. And she figured Hamish would appreciate this particular silver lining.

  ‘Guess who got his heart?’

  He frowned for a moment but it cleared as quickly as it had formed. ‘Your patient on the list?’

  Lola nodded. ‘She’s in Theatre now.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ His smile almost split his face in two. ‘That’s...wonderful news.’

  ‘The best.’

  He kissed her then. Hard. And Lola melted the way she always did as her cares fell away and her body was consumed by the presence of him. His pine and coconut aroma fogged her senses. His touch dazzled and electrified everything in its path, drugging and energising in equal measure.

  His fingers hummed at her nape, his lips buzzed against hers, the rough drag of his breath brushed like sandpaper over her skin. His heart thumped hard beneath her palm and the steel of his erection pressed into her belly.

  She was so damn needy she wanted to simultaneously rub herself all over him and crawl inside him.

  ‘Mmm...’ He broke off and every nerve ending in Lola’s body cried out at the loss. ‘I missed you last night.’

  Lola smiled. ‘I have three days off now.’

  He smiled back. ‘Whatever shall we do?’

  ‘Well...there is the Christmas shopping.’

  ‘We could do that.’

  Lola pretended to consider some more. ‘We could take a drive along the northern beaches. Find a nice spot for a picnic?’

  ‘Yep. We could definitely do that.’ He ground his erection into her belly. ‘I was thinking of something a little more indoorsy.’

  The delighted little moan that hovered in Lola’s throat threatened to become full blown as Hamish adjusted the angle of their hips and the bulge behind the towel pressed against her in all the right places.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ She shut her eyes at the mindless pleasure he could evoke with just a flex of his hips. ‘What did you have in mind exactly?’

  ‘Something that doesn’t require clothes for the next three days would be awesome.’

  Somewhere in the morass of her brain Lola knew she should reject his invitation. Try and pull things back now their night duty stint was over. She was already dangerously attached to Hamish—three days of naked time with him would only make this insane craving she had for him worse.

  Oh, but she wanted him.

  Wanted to spend three days talking and sleeping and kissing and getting to know each other really well.

  Lola tossed caution to the wind. Hell, it was Christmas, right? She grinned at him as she grabbed for the knot sitting low between his hips. ‘I think clothes are overrated.’ She pulled it and the towel fell to the floor, the thickness of his erection jammed between them.

  Oh, yes, that was better.

  She glanced at it before returning her attention to Hamish’s face. ‘I need a shower. I’m having very dirty thoughts.’

  ‘But I like it when you’re filthy.’

  Lola grinned, kissing him quickly before shimmying out of reach, her fingers going to the buttons of her work blouse, undoing them one by one as she walked slowly backwards, opening the shirt when she was done so he could get an eyeful of her blue lacy bra.

  ‘Come and get me,’ she murmured, before turning tail and sprinting to the bathroom, a large naked man hot on her heels.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EMMA WAS STILL ventilated when Lola went back onto the early shift after her days off and wild horses wouldn’t have stopped Lola from requesting her to look after.

  To say Emma was markedly improved was a giant understatement. She was breathing for herself and almost weaned off the ventilator. Her blood pressure was good, her heart rate was excellent, all her blood tests were normal and there were no signs of rejection. All her drains were out and her exposed surgical incision was looking pink and healthy.

  She’d come a long way in such a short time.

  Her eyes lit up when Lola said hello first thing and she reached for Lola’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
<
br />   ‘She remembers you,’ Barry said.

  Lola smiled. She had looked after Emma a lot these past weeks. Had held her hand, talked to her, reassured her. But Emma had been very ill for most of it and the drugs she’d had on board had often caused memories to be jumbled. Lola wouldn’t have been at all surprised had Emma not remembered anything or anyone.

  In fact, given the long, intensive haul she’d been through, it was probably not a bad thing.

  ‘You look amazing, Emma,’ Lola said.

  Emma smiled and pointed to her tracheostomy, mouthing, ‘Out.’ The position of the tube in her throat rendered her unable to vocalise.

  Lola laughed. ‘Hopefully today, yes. After the rounds this morning, okay?’

  She rolled her eyes and kicked her feet a little to display her impatience. ‘I know.’ Lola squeezed her arm. ‘Not much longer now, I promise.’

  ‘I told you, Emsy,’ Barry said, kissing her hand. ‘Soon.’

  Lola smiled. Barry had come a long way too.

  ‘You think she’ll be on a ward for Christmas?’ Barry asked.

  Lola shrugged. Christmas was still a week away. ‘That’s the way to bet. But—’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Barry said, interrupting Lola to beam at Emma. The way he looked at her caught in Lola’s throat. ‘You’ll be out of here soon.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Lola stressed. She didn’t want to rain on their parade but Lola had been doing this far too long not to be cautious about her predictions. ‘Don’t forget, it’s one day at a time in here.

  ‘We know, we know,’ Barry said in a way that led Lola to believe they were already planning Emma’s homecoming.

  And Lola didn’t have it in her to stop them. Inside Emma’s chest beat Wesley’s heart. His family’s tragedy had become Emma’s family’s miracle and hell if Lola wasn’t going to let them bask in that.

  * * *

  A few days before Christmas Hamish found himself sitting at the back of a packed cathedral in full uniform. He’d imagined a lot of different scenarios playing out during his urban stint in Sydney but attending a memorial service for the victims of a bombing had not been one of them.

  Lola, one of the many hospital personnel in attendance, was by his side as the mayor talked about the tragic events that had unfolded that night and how the efforts of the emergency services had doubtless saved countless lives. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pulling the collar of his formal uniform shirt off his neck. It was stifling hot in the cavernous cathedral and praise such as this added to his discomfort.

  He and everyone else who had attended that night and all the health care professionals who were caring for the injured—doctors and nurses like Lola and Grace—had just been doing their jobs.

  Words like heroes and angels didn’t sit well on his shoulders. He’d just done what he’d been paid to do.

  A squeeze to his leg brought him out of his own head and he smiled at Lola, her hand a steadying presence spread over his thigh. He’d spent a lot of time in her arms avoiding thinking about the carnage of that night, but it was unavoidable today and he’d been discombobulated ever since meeting Wesley’s parents earlier.

  And somehow she knew it.

  Jenny sat on his other side. She was rigid in her seat and tight-lipped, the buttons on her dress uniform as shiny as the tips of her black dress shoes. She shot him a small, strained smile as the minister at the front asked everyone to stand for the reading of the names.

  They rose to their feet. Hamish knew how important these sorts of memorials were. That public grief, remembrance and acknowledgement brought communities together and paying respect helped people move on. He knew it would help him and Jenny move on from that night—eventually.

  It still felt a little too raw right now, though, the girl in the purple dress still a little too fresh in his brain.

  Abigail. That was her name. He’d seen it on TV.

  Lola’s hand slipped into his as the minister read the first name out and a candle was lit in their honour. He was so damn grateful to have her here. She’d become his distraction, his safe harbour, his soft place to land. She’d become vital—like oxygen and sunshine—and the thought of leaving her in a few weeks was like a knife to his heart.

  Because he’d fallen in love with her.

  The weird tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders for a while now eased at the realisation. If anything, it should have tightened because that was not part of the plan. Not that they’d talked about any plan. In fact, they’d studiously avoided it seeing that their last plan—to keep their hands off each other—obviously hadn’t gone that well.

  He should be worried. He should be grim. He should be nervous. Hell, he should at least be trying to figure it all out, work out his next step. But he was thirty years old and in love for the first time and right now, on this darkly emotional day, it was like a blast of light through the stained-glass windows of the cathedral.

  It was enough.

  The service ended fifteen minutes later and Hamish was finally able to breathe again. Jenny peeled off to talk to somebody she knew as they walked out into the fresh air and sunshine. Grace, who’d been up at the front supporting Wesley’s family, waved and Lola’s hand slipped from his as they headed in her direction.

  Hamish missed the intimacy immediately and resentment stirred briefly in his chest before he got over himself. He didn’t need Grace on his case as he tried to navigate this next couple of weeks. He kissed his sister on the cheek and she and Lola introduced the group of nurses they’d joined.

  They made polite small talk for a few minutes but it was the last thing Hamish wanted to do. He wanted to be at home with Lola. He wanted to strip her out of her uniform and bury himself inside her and tell her with his body what he couldn’t tell her with his words. Not yet anyway. Not until he’d figured out just how to do that without losing her in the process.

  If that was even possible.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, her voice low as the conversation ebbed and flowed around them.

  Hamish nodded and smiled reassuringly. These people were clearly her work colleagues and friends and he needed to pull his head out from his ass. They’d all been part of the bombing and its aftermath in some way. ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll, it’s after twelve.’ A male nurse who’d been introduced as Jay rubbed his hands together. ‘Who’s up for drinks at Billi’s?’

  There was a general murmur of, ‘Count me in,’ including from Grace and Lola.

  ‘You, Hamish?’ Jay asked.

  Not really, no. He didn’t want to go and psychoanalyse to death every part of that night, which was exactly what he knew would happen. It was inevitable when you got a bunch of health professionals together—it’s what they did.

  He just wanted to be alone with the woman he loved.

  But Lola had already indicated she was going to the bar and he wanted to be wherever she was, even if it meant he couldn’t touch her and he had to pretend everything was platonic between them. ‘Um...sure.’

  He glanced at Lola and smiled. But her eyes narrowed slightly and Hamish swore he could feel her probing his mind as she searched his face. ‘Actually... I might take a rain-check.’

  She turned back to Jay, the movement inching her closer to Hamish. He felt the slight brush of her arm against his, was conscious of their thighs almost touching.

  ‘I still have some Christmas shopping to do and this is my only day off between now and Christmas.’

  Hamish could have kissed her. Well...that was a given...but he knew she was blowing off her friends for his benefit and he seriously wanted to grab her and kiss the breath out of her. He sure as hell wanted to drag her beneath him and love her with all his strength.

  All his heart.

  ‘Oh. Right. Actually, that’s a good idea,’ he concurred, hoping he sounded casual and that his si
ster wasn’t picking up on the mad echo of his heartbeat.

  Grace glanced between him and Lola before cocking an eyebrow. ‘You want to go shopping instead of drinking beer?’

  He shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure I’m up to much company today.’

  ‘Oh...absolutely. Of course.’

  Hamish felt guilty as Grace’s cynicism faded, to be replaced by an expression of concern. He didn’t want her to worry about him but he’d say whatever he needed to say to be alone with Lola right now.

  ‘Just don’t let her drag you into a bookshop. You’ll be stuck for two hours at the travel section.’

  Everyone laughed, including Lola, before they said their goodbyes and quietly slipped away.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured as they headed for the car park. ‘I really didn’t want to make polite conversation today.’

  ‘I know.’

  Hamish sucked in a breath. It was simple but true. She did know. And he loved her for it.

  * * *

  Lola usually worked on Christmas Day. It was a good excuse not to go back to Doongabi and she got to spend it with people she really liked, doing what she loved. Instead of with people who wished she was different in a place that felt just as claustrophobic as an adult as it had when she’d been a kid.

  And hospitals always went out of their way to make everything look festive and inviting throughout the season, and Kirribilli General was no different.

  But this Christmas morning was different.

  Good different.

  Waking-up-in-the-arms-of-a-sexy-man different.

  Hands touching, caressing, drifting. Lips seeking, tasting, devouring. Coming together in a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing, desire and December heat slick on their skin. Crying out to each other as they came, panting heavily as they coasted through a haze of bliss and floated back down to earth.

  Hitting the shower to freshen up and cool off, only to heat up again as the methodical business of soaping turned to the drugging business of pleasure. Hamish kissing her, Lola kissing him back until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, slumping against the tiles for support, Hamish supporting her, urging her up, her legs around him, pushing hard inside her again and groaning into her neck as he came, whispering, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ as she followed him over the edge.