Emergency Doctor and Cinderella

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Erin took the glass, carefully avoiding his fingers as she did so. ‘I don’t know…hobbies?’

  ‘Do you have any?’

  She cradled her glass in both hands. ‘I read.’

  ‘What do you read?’

  ‘Books.’

  He gave her a droll look. ‘What genre or genres do you like?’

  Erin felt her face grow warm. ‘I like…er…fantasy.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  ‘What about you?’ she asked, trying not to appear flustered by his proximity. ‘What do you like to read?’

  ‘Biographies, history, science; that sort of thing,’ he answered. ‘My sisters are always at me to read other genres but I really like reading for information, not necessarily for entertainment.’

  A silence hung in the air for a moment.

  ‘What do you do in your spare time besides reading?’ Eamon asked.

  ‘I work out a little. I have a treadmill.’

  ‘Handy.’

  ‘Yes, I don’t like running or walking in the dark,’ she said. ‘I guess that would be one of the benefits of having a dog.’

  He smiled lopsidedly. ‘I can’t quite see Molly defending you from a would-be assailant, but then again I could be wrong.’

  She took a sip of her wine. ‘I hope you won’t let slip that I have her—I mean with the body corporate,’ she said. ‘I like coming home to her after a tough day. It…it helps.’

  Eamon watched as she perched on the edge of the nearest sofa, her wineglass cupped in her hands, her eyes not quite making the distance to his. ‘I guess goldfish are not quite the same thing, are they?’ he said.

  Her brown eyes meshed with his. ‘No, they’re not.’

  Another silence slipped past.

  Eamon felt that delicious tug deep in his groin again. He felt it just about every time she looked at him. It was like a direct charge of electricity, zapping him to throbbing awareness. Their rather stilted exchange masked a simmering tension just beneath the surface. He could sense it in the way she held herself, the way her eyes flicked away from his as if she was frightened he would see more than she wanted him to see. He had enjoyed watching her eavesdropping. It had made him realise she did give a damn about what people thought, even though she strenuously denied it. Her face had been so expressive, full of pique, outrage and anger, that it made him all the more determined to get under her guard.

  He looked at her mouth, the soft pillow of it looking so very tempting as she sat there sipping occasionally at her wine. He watched the up-and-down movement of her slim throat as she swallowed, and the hesitant sweep of her tongue across her lips. His stomach clenched low and deep with the thought of her doing the same to him. He felt his body swell inside his jeans, the rush of blood that he couldn’t control even if he wanted to. God, the thought of slipping into her, having her clutch at him with her tight little body, was making his head spin. He wondered if she would be as hesitant and ill at ease in bed as she appeared in company. Or would she be all hungry tigress, scratching and clawing at him in ravenous need?

  She suddenly looked up and locked gazes with him; the air in the room tightened like fencing-wire being strained.

  Eamon felt the drum of his blood kicking in his veins, a roaring rush that drove every thought out of his head. He knew if his little sister wasn’t banging pots and pans and utensils in the room next door he might very well have closed the distance between Erin and himself and taken his chances on a kiss, as he had been tempted to do the previous evening. As if she knew where his thoughts were leading, Erin sent the tip of her tongue out over her lips, her throat rising and falling again as her eyes slowly slipped out of the reach of his.

  ‘Gosh, it’s awfully quiet in here,’ Steph said as she breezed in with a plate of nibbles. ‘Can’t you think of anything to talk about but work?’

  ‘If you put two doctors into a room by themselves, what else do you expect them to do?’ Eamon asked, reaching for an olive and popping it into his mouth.

  Steph gave him a mock-despairing look before turning her gaze to Erin. ‘I hope he hasn’t been boring you. He’s not the greatest conversationalist in the world.’

  ‘He wasn’t boring me at all,’ Erin said, wishing she could control her propensity to blush. ‘We were talking about…about pets.’

  Steph’s eyes lit up. ‘Eamon told me you had a cat.’ She perched on the arm of the sofa next to her brother, crossing one booted ankle over the other. ‘So, do you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘Stephanie May Chapman,’ Eamon said warningly.

  ‘What?’ She looked at him in affront. ‘I’m just making conversation.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Erin said before he could respond. ‘No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have much of a social life at present.’

  ‘Maybe we could set you up on a blind date or something,’ Steph suggested. ‘How about it, Eamon? Do you know of any suitable young men lurking around the hospital?’

  He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out of the sofa. ‘Keep me out of it,’ he said. ‘I don’t like people meddling in my affairs, and I’m sure Dr Taylor doesn’t either.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ Steph pouted. ‘It’s so hard for women to meet decent men these days. You could at least offer up a few suggestions.’

  ‘I really don’t need—’ Erin began uncomfortably.

  Steph was undaunted. ‘When was the last time you went on a proper date?’ she asked.

  Erin pressed her lips together, thinking about it. ‘Er, it was quite a while ago.’

  ‘How long?’ Steph asked.

  Erin tried not to look in Eamon’s direction. ‘It was about seven years ago.’

  Steph slapped her hands on her thighs as she looked up at Eamon, who was standing in a brooding manner near the windows. ‘See? What’s a young single working woman to do?’

  ‘You seem to do all right for yourself,’ Eamon pointed out wryly. ‘You’re only here tonight because your latest squeeze fell through at the last minute. Remember?’

  Steph gave her head a little toss as she launched off the sofa arm. ‘I’m going to check on dinner and my text messages to see if he-who-shall-remain-nameless has changed his mind.’

  The room was as silent as an ancient tomb once the door to the kitchen closed.

  ‘Sorry about—’ Eamon said.

  ‘Maybe I should—’ Erin spoke at the same time.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t let her scare you off. She’s cooked for us; we might as well enjoy it. It sure beats cheese on toast.’

  Erin picked up her wine again, and the point of her index finger made a pathway through the beads of condensation around the glass. ‘She’s lovely…’ She looked up at him. ‘You’re lucky to have such a loving family.’

  He gave a rueful grimace. ‘You do realise we’re being set up, don’t you?’

  Erin felt a frown stitch her forehead. ‘Set up for what?’

  ‘My family constantly despairs about me not settling down,’ he said. ‘When my father was my age—thirty-four—he was already married and had three children. Steph was a surprise package later in life.’

  He came over and topped up both their wineglasses before he continued. ‘When I hopped on a plane to the UK a couple of years ago, they were convinced I’d break all their hearts by falling in love with an English rose and never come home again.’

  ‘You clearly didn’t—not come home, I mean.’

  He gave her another long look before he released a slow breath. ‘No. I didn’t fall in love, either.’

  Erin couldn’t quite work out why she felt such a flooding sense of relief at his words. ‘Is it what you want to do?’ she asked. ‘I mean, settle down and have a family?’

  He twirled the contents of his glass, took a sip and then answered. ‘Yeah, I would like that. I’ve enjoyed my freedom as much as the next guy, but I must admit I’m a bit tired of coming home to an empty apartment after a gruelling day in A&E.’

  ‘Maybe you shoul
d get a cat,’ she suggested.

  He smiled an enigmatic smile as he raised his glass back to his mouth. ‘Maybe I will.’

  Steph came bursting back into the room. ‘Sorry, guys, but I have to dash. Last-minute change of plans. I’ve left everything ready for you. All you have to do is serve it once it’s cooked. It should only take another twenty minutes.’

  ‘Todd—or is it Tom?—changed his mind, huh?’ Eamon asked.

  Steph gave him a glowering look, but it wasn’t long before a sheepish smile broke through. ‘It’s Todd and, yes, he did. I’m going to meet him for a drink.’ She turned to Erin. ‘I’m sorry about this. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Erin said, starting to rise to her feet. ‘It was nice of you to cook for your—I mean, us.’

  ‘Don’t get up,’ Steph said, waving her back down. ‘I know my way out. Stay here and chat to Eamon. Have a nice night.’ She blew her brother a kiss and slipped out.

  Erin met Eamon’s amused green gaze once the front door clicked shut. ‘She’s so full of life,’ she said. ‘I feel incredibly staid and boring in comparison.’

  He sat on the arm of the sofa his sister had vacated earlier. ‘You’re not boring,’ he said. ‘I find you rather intriguing as a matter of fact.’

  Her brows lifted. ‘You have been leading a quiet life. I can assure you there is nothing interesting or intriguing about me.’

  He studied her for a lengthy moment. ‘Why haven’t you been on a date in seven years?’

  Erin glanced at the wine in her glass. ‘Too busy, too tired, too hard to please.’ She lifted her gaze back to his. ‘I’m not into the casual-fling scene. I’m not into settling down, either.’

  ‘You sound quite adamant about that.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Who hurt you?’

  Erin felt her defences go up like a swish of rapidly unsheathed swords. She had to work hard to hold his steady gaze. Her heart gave a stomping kick against her breastbone, and her stomach clenched as if a hand had snatched at her insides. ‘Why do you ask that?’ she asked in her best cool and controlled tone.

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug-like movement. ‘Instinct. Intuition. Gut feeling.’

  ‘I didn’t know there was such a thing as male intuition,’ she said, trying to keep her expression bland and her tone even. ‘I thought that was the special domain of women.’

  ‘Let’s put that to the test.’ He got up from the arm of the sofa and came and sat beside her. ‘What’s your intuition telling you now?’ he asked, pinning her with his gaze.

  Erin sat very still, but the surface of the wine in her glass rippled with her underlying apprehension. Her mouth was dry and she had to moisten her lips with her tongue in order to speak, an action that his all-seeing gaze closely followed. ‘Um…I get the feeling you’re going to make a move on me,’ she said. ‘But I would strongly advise against it.’

  He raised one of his brows. ‘Are you warning me you’ll slap my face if I do?’

  ‘I don’t believe in using violence to get a message across.’

  His eyes went to her mouth for a beat or two before slowly coming back to hers. ‘So, no slapping if I kiss you.’ He rubbed at his jaw, the scrape of his palm across his light stubble clearly audible in the pulsing silence. ‘Now, that’s tempting.’

  Erin swallowed. ‘D-don’t even think about it,’ she said; her voice didn’t sound strong and assured, however, but soft, hesitant and slightly breathless.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it since I ran into you when I came out of the lift.’ His voice was a deep burr of sound that made the hairs on her scalp prickle with sensation.

  ‘S-surely not.’ She moistened her lips again. ‘I was positively rude to you.’

  His mouth tilted in a little half-smile. ‘Are you apologising for that or just stating a fact?’

  Erin was feeling more and more out of her depth. He was within touching distance. She could smell his clean, male scent. She could feel his body warmth. She could reach out and touch his chiselled jaw. She could reach out and run a fingertip over his lips. She could lean forward and meet his mouth halfway…

  Or she could be sensible and get off the sofa.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said softly, taking one of her hands before she could use it to lever herself upwards.

  Erin drew in a breath, feeling it rattle all the way down into her lungs like loose change in someone’s pocket. She looked down at her hand encased in his. She wondered how many lives those long, clever fingers had saved. Or how many women he had tempted into his arms and into his bed. ‘This is not a good idea, Dr Chapman,’ she said, still looking at the stark contrast of her lighter toned skin with his.

  ‘What’s not a good idea?’ he asked in that sexy, deep baritone.

  She met his gaze and then wished she hadn’t. Intimate possibilities swirled around them like a heavy fog. She could so easily lose her way.

  So very easily.

  ‘You. Me. Us,’ she said. ‘It would never work.’

  ‘What makes you so certain about that?’ he asked. ‘You’ve only known me a couple of days.’

  ‘The work thing…’ Her teeth savaged her lip. ‘It…it always complicates things.’

  His thumb began a mind-numbing stroke across the back of her hand, each lazy slide of his warm flesh against hers heating her to the core. She felt the slow melt of her resistance, and vainly tried to stop it. It would be so easy to give in to the eroticism of the moment, so easy to lap at the pool of longing, to dive beneath its rippling depths, to feel the pulse of his pounding blood within her silken cave.

  ‘Maybe you’re thinking way too much, Dr Taylor,’ he said, bringing her hand up to his mouth.

  Erin held her breath as she felt his lips brush against her fingertips. She felt the slight graze from his evening stubble, the brazenly intimate contact sending a shock wave of reaction through her belly and beyond. His eyes locked on hers as his mouth moved against each of her fingers in turn. She felt mesmerised by his touch. It brought such heat to her body, making it tinglingly alive. She gave a little gasp when his lips opened over her index finger, drawing its knuckle into the warm, dark, dangerously tempting cavern of his mouth. She felt the sexy rasp of his tongue as it curled around her sensitive fingertip, her senses almost exploding in response. She could hear ringing in her ears, a buzzing sound that made her wonder if she was losing control of her mind, drawn into such a whirlpool of longing that nothing else made sense.

  ‘Damn it,’ Eamon said as he released her hand and got to his feet.

  Erin blinked herself back to reality. Of course he would stop this nonsense; someone had to be sensible about this. It wouldn’t do to let this go any further. It was crazy to think otherwise. It was crazy to think…

  ‘Great timing, don’t you think?’ he asked as he moved towards the kitchen.

  Erin frowned as she realised the buzzing wasn’t coming from inside her head at all. It was the oven timer telling them dinner was ready. ‘Er, yes,’ she said. ‘I guess it is.’

  ‘Do you know how to switch it off?’ he called out from the kitchen. ‘I haven’t used it before. I don’t want to call Steph; I’ll never hear the end of it.’

  She got off the sofa on legs that felt like not-quite-set jelly and made her way to the kitchen. Eamon was leaning over the oven, peering at the dials, giving her a wonderful view of his jean-clad, taut behind. She came as close as she dared, reaching past him to press the button which should have had a tiny bell symbol on it but in this case was worn away from use. ‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘It’s exactly the same model as mine next door.’

  He straightened and looked down at her. ‘Amazing.’

  Erin shrugged. ‘You would have worked it out eventually.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about the timer.’

  She drew in a shaky little breath as he came closer. She didn’t step away; in a galley kitchen there wasn’t anywhere to go, or so she told her
self later. ‘Oh?’ Her voice came out like a mouse squeak.

  His arms settled either side of her, his hands resting on the bench, creating a cage for her body. His eyes meshed with hers, holding her entranced as each sensually charged second pulsed by.

  ‘So, Dr Taylor,’ he said in a low, deep rumble. ‘Where should we go from here?’

  Erin carefully inflated her lungs but even so she felt as if a handful of thorns had gone down with the air she breathed in. ‘Um, you step back. I step back. Easy. Sensible. No harm done.’

  His lips curved upwards. ‘You think?’

  Erin didn’t know what to think. Her mind seemed to have switched off several minutes ago. Her senses were on high alert, each one screaming for more of his touch. Her tongue darted out to moisten her tombstone-dry lips; her heart lurched when she saw his eyes drop to her mouth.

  Time slowed, frame by frame, as his head came down, lower, lower, the warm caress of his breath skating over the surface of her lips, heating her blood to a slow boil. Her breath mingled with his, an erotic union that sent her senses reeling even further. She closed her eyes as his mouth brushed hers, like a sable brush against a precious canvas, soft, light, careful. He did it once more, just as lightly, the barely there touch making her lips tingle for more pressure.

  He lifted his head a mere fraction, his eyes heavy-lidded as they tethered hers. ‘How’s that intuition of yours?’ he asked. ‘Do you reckon it’s time to stop or should we risk one more kiss?’

  The winds had never had so much caution thrown at them as Erin stepped up on tiptoe, her hips brushing against the rock-hard wall of his. ‘Maybe just one more…’ she whispered.

  ‘Better make it a good one, then,’ he said, and covered her mouth with the explosive heat and fire of his.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WASN’T as if Erin had anything in recent memory to compare it to, but she was sure she had never been kissed quite like that before. His mouth was commanding but not too controlling, warm and moist, but not slippery and sleazy. It was experienced, exciting and erotic. It was daring and even dangerous at times when he used his tongue to call hers into a duel-like dance that had blatantly sexual overtones. She was swept away with it, the pull of attraction like an undertow around her lower body. She felt the pounding of his blood against her pelvis as his erection hardened to steel, a thrilling reminder of his potency and power, and her vulnerability to it. Her body melted into his heat, the barrier of their clothes doing nothing to detract from the sensations she was feeling.