Emergency Doctor and Cinderella

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She grimaced ruefully. ‘Not as many as me. You’re the first man who’s taken the time to get to know me. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.’

  He sent the point of his index finger on a sensual discovery of her lips. ‘I’d like to get to know you even more,’ he said. ‘I’ve been kicking myself over how I handled last night.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I should have carried you off to bed while I had the chance. You wanted me. I wanted you. I blew it.’

  ‘I still want you,’ she said unashamedly. ‘I can’t believe how much I want you.’ She gave him a self-deprecating look. ‘I can’t believe I’m even admitting it.’

  He took the cognac glass out of her hand and placed it alongside his on the coffee table, his eyes smouldering as they came back to mesh with hers. ‘Not here. I want us to be alone, totally alone. So, how about it? Tomorrow night. My apartment. My bed. A date?’

  Erin felt her belly flip over as his head came down. ‘It’s a date,’ she whispered as his mouth covered hers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE drive back to Sydney the following afternoon was full of simmering tension. Erin could feel the anticipation building in her body. It had been building all day. Each time Eamon caught her glance, she felt a hot spurt of longing fill her; every time he brushed against her or linked his fingers with hers she would feel as if her bones had liquefied. She wondered if that was why he hadn’t taken her to his room the night before, to ramp up her desire for him so she would have no second thoughts later tonight once they were alone in his apartment. He had kissed her for endless minutes on the sofa, he had kissed her outside her bedroom door, but then he had stopped.

  And it had worked.

  For now all she could think of was finally being alone with him, to feel his skin under her fingers, to explore every plane and contour of his body with her hands and her mouth.

  By the time he drove into the apartment car park Erin’s heart was beating like a drum. The journey up in the lift made her pulse soar, the extra time it took to deposit Molly next door stretching out the tension to snapping point. The air vibrated with it when Eamon opened his apartment door for her to pass through, his eyes dark with promise.

  Erin barely waited for him to close the door. She fisted a hand in the front of his shirt at the same time his head came down, his mouth crushing hers beneath the passionate pressure of his.

  This was no tender, tentatively exploring kiss. This was a kiss that stated implacably what was going to happen next. Flames of need flashed through Erin’s veins as he backed her further into the room, almost toppling a lamp on the way.

  ‘God, I nearly went crazy back there,’ Eamon said, breathing heavily.

  ‘Back where?’ Erin asked, planting a hot, moist kiss to his neck.

  He nibbled at her earlobe, his low, deep voice sending shivers through her. ‘At Cloverfields. In the car. In the lift. All of it. I couldn’t wait to get back here and do this…’

  Erin gasped as he worked at her clothes, removing them with heart-stopping deftness until she was in nothing but her bra and knickers. She fumbled with his shirt buttons, but in the end he shrugged it off without undoing the last ones.

  He lifted her in one effortless movement and carried her into his bedroom, sliding her down his body, making her feel his arousal all the way. ‘Tell me to slow down,’ he said in a ragged tone.

  ‘I don’t want you to slow down,’ she said as she went for his belt.

  She heard him suck in a breath as she slid the belt out of his trousers, her fingers lightly skating over him before she lowered his zip. She was going on instinct, taking her cue from his reaction; the thrill of feeling the satin-covered steel of him in her hand was breathtaking.

  He pulled her hand away when he could take her caresses no more, pushing her back on the bed until they were a tangle of limbs and hungry, searching mouths.

  Erin arched her back as he found her breasts, his mouth a hot, sweet torture as he suckled and stroked and laved in turn. He went lower to the cave of her belly button, his tongue dipping into the tiny whorl of sensitive flesh until her senses were skyrocketing. He continued on, lower and lower, his warm breath dancing over her feminine folds. What he did next lifted every hair on her scalp; the feel of his lips and tongue in such an intimate caress was almost too much for her. She whimpered and grasped at his head, not sure she could cope with the whirlpool of sensations threatening to consume her.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he coaxed gently. ‘Just relax and let go.’

  She felt her flesh flutter with the first wave of pleasure, and then an avalanche followed. She felt the aftershocks ricochet through her, spasms of delicious feelings that made her mind empty of everything but ecstasy.

  He moved back over her, his hair-roughened legs entrapping her beneath him. He reached past her right shoulder to the bedside table drawer, taking out a condom. She held her breath as he put it on, the anticipation of him finally possessing her making her heart pump with excitement.

  She placed her hands on the front of his shoulders, meeting his eyes with colour flooding her face. ‘Eamon, I know this is really bad timing, but…’ She bit her lip before continuing, ‘The thing is, I’ve never really done this before. Not the whole way.’

  His eyes softened. ‘Are you telling me you’re a virgin?’

  She winced in embarrassment. ‘I feel like a pariah.’ She put one of her hands over her eyes. ‘God, how pathetic it sounds. Nearly thirty years old and never had sex.’

  Eamon tugged her hand away from her face, his expression meltingly soft. ‘Hey,’ he said in a husky tone. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  She screwed up her face. ‘You don’t think it’s pathetic?’

  He smiled and pressed a kiss to the middle of her forehead. ‘I think it’s the most beautiful thing that you want me to be your first. Are you sure you want to go through with it? Do you need more time to think about it?’

  Erin linked her arms around his neck. ‘Maybe I think too much. I worry too much about what could go wrong instead of concentrating on what is going right. This feels right.’

  He kissed her again, softly, tenderly. ‘It feels right for me too,’ he said. ‘It felt right from the moment I met you.’

  Erin brought his head down and sighed with pleasure as he kissed her deeply. She knew he was working hard to pace himself; she could feel the tension in his body and the increasing urgency of his mouth as it captured hers again. His erection was against the feminine seam of her body and she opened to him instinctively, that first smooth, cautious glide of his body making her spine unhinge vertebra by vertebra. Her body tightened around him, gripping him, delighting in the feel of him moving slowly but surely within her. He was so patient with her, pausing until he was sure she was able to take him inch by inch, her body adjusting to his thickness, her senses crying out with delight at feeling his total possession. He slowly began to build his pace, his inexorable climb to the summit of release carrying her along with him. She felt her body swell and pulse with need, the inner muscles of her core hot and moist as he drove through, time and time again. Her fingers dug into his taut buttocks, the sensations building until she was writhing beneath him, swept up into another vortex of earth-shattering rapture as she felt him finally let go. She held him tightly as he shuddered, emptying himself with a low, deep groan of primal male pleasure.

  ‘Am I too heavy for you?’ he asked after his breathing had steadied a little.

  ‘No.’ Erin settled against him, her fingers playing with his hair as she looked into his eyes. ‘I like the feel of you right where you are.’

  ‘I like the feel of it too,’ he said. ‘You were amazing, sweetheart. You nearly blew the top of my head off.’

  She smiled softly and traced his mouth with her fingertip. ‘I never knew it could be like that…you know…so fulfilling. At least not the first time.’

  He grabbed
her finger and sucked on the end of it, holding her gaze with the burning heat of his. ‘It will only get better,’ he said. ‘Practice makes perfect, right?’

  Erin felt a playful smile tug at her mouth. ‘So does that mean we get to do it again?’

  His eyes darkened. ‘Damn right it does,’ he said and, swooping down, covered her mouth with his.

  Erin felt as if she was floating when she arrived at work the following day. Her body felt so different, so alive and tingling all over after spending the night curled up in Eamon’s arms. He had left early for work, and she had spent an extra half-hour lying in his bed, surrounded by the smell of him on the sheets and on her skin.

  Although they had made love several times she had made no promises to him; she had said nothing to him of her feelings. She had felt too shy to confess how much and how deeply she loved him. She didn’t want him to think his passionate awakening of her senses had made her fall in love with him out of a pathetic sort of gratefulness. It had started a long time before that, she just hadn’t realised it at the time. The moment she had met him had been life changing. How could she have known that the tall man getting out of the lift that day would cause her to question her adamantine stance on remaining single and childless? Ever since she had seen him holding his tiny niece she had felt the stirring of deep, maternal urges within her. They had lain dormant for all this time, but it had taken that tender moment to make her realise she did want it all. The only question was: could she have it?

  The first couple of hours of her shift in A&E were so hectic, Erin didn’t have time to think about her relationship with Eamon. A cardiac arrest came in at the same time as a multi-trauma. She worked tirelessly with the staff as she carefully assessed and prioritised patients, not stopping until the last patient was taken up to Theatre.

  Erin was writing up the last of the notes when Tom Brightman, the registrar, came over carrying one of the department phones. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece, his expression grim. ‘Dr Taylor, it’s Mr Gourlay. He says it’s urgent.’

  Erin inwardly groaned as she took the phone. ‘Erin Taylor.’

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing down there in A&E?’ Arthur blasted her without preamble. ‘That last patient you sent up went into respiratory failure. We only just managed to salvage him.’

  Erin straightened in her chair, her hand tightening around the phone. ‘Mr Yates?’

  ‘Yes, the man with the flail segment,’ Arthur blustered. ‘He was screaming in pain by the time he got up here.’

  Erin frowned. ‘Mr Yates was given pethidine on arrival. The x-rays showed five ribs broken in two places so we gave him another shot before he was taken up to Theatre. If you don’t believe me, check the notes. It’s written up.’

  ‘Who gave him the injection?’ Arthur asked.

  Erin thought back to the pandemonium in A&E when Mr Yates had come in with his wife and daughter, all seriously injured from a motor-vehicle accident, at the same time an elderly man had come in with chest pain and had subsequently arrested. Lydia and Tom as well as two residents and an intern had worked alongside her, following her directions, bringing her equipment and performing procedures under her guidance. ‘Lydia Hislop gave him the second shot,’ she said. ‘I gave him the first.’

  ‘I’m having another word with the director about this incompetence,’ Arthur said. ‘Just about every time you’re on duty patients are compromised by inadequate pain-management.’

  Erin opened her mouth to defend herself but the line went dead as the surgeon hung up.

  Tom gave her a look of empathy as she handed him back the phone. ‘I tried to tell him we did it by the book, but he wouldn’t listen,’ he said.

  Erin sighed as she pushed back her chair to stand. ‘I’d better have a word with Dr Chapman.’

  ‘Do you want me to have a word with Lydia?’ Tom asked. ‘Maybe she made a mistake or something.’

  Erin shook her head. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘Lydia is one of the most competent and switched-on nurses in this department. In any case, I saw her inject the patient.’

  Tom shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s a problem with the batch.’

  Erin looked at him for a long moment.

  ‘What did I say?’ Tom said.

  ‘Never mind,’ Erin said, moving past him. ‘Keep an eye on things until I get back.’

  Eamon drummed his fingers on his desk, his brow creased into a network of lines. Arthur Gourlay’s accusations were still ringing in his ears. A little niggling worry kept eating at him. He didn’t like where his thoughts were leading him, but as director he had a responsibility to put personal issues aside in order to make objective judgements about the level of care patients were receiving. Was it just a coincidence that Erin’s trauma kit had had no drugs in it at the weekend? He physically winced as he thought about the possibility of her siphoning off narcotics for personal use. It was unthinkable…or was it? Was he allowing his feelings and attraction for her to cloud his judgement? More to the point, had she used his attraction to her to muddy his thinking?

  The documents from the previous incident were in front of him; her signature had been verified. There was no doubt she had signed for the drugs, but the question was had she administered them to the patient?

  He had read of this type of scenario before. There were several cases where a doctor or staff member had stolen drugs from the department for personal use. Although strict guidelines were in place, A&E at peak times was harder than other departments to monitor. There was a lot of activity when multiple cases came in; junior staff often had to perform procedures such as injections while the more senior staff managed resus or bleeding control. Eamon had experienced the bedlam first-hand but had always been stringent in checking and double-checking the paperwork.

  If only Erin wasn’t so prickly and defensive. He couldn’t help feeling she was hiding something, which made it even harder for him to know how to approach this sensitive situation.

  There was a knock at the door, and when he issued the command to come in he felt a jolt of reaction zap him when Erin entered his office.

  ‘Erin.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I was just about to call you.’

  ‘I had to see you,’ she said. ‘Has Arthur Gourlay called you?’

  ‘Yes. It seems there’s been another incident of inadequate pain-relief, this time almost resulting in a death,’ Eamon said gravely.

  She worried at her bottom lip. ‘Look, I know I should have told you earlier, but I had another incident a few days ago. I should have mentioned it when we talked about the Pappas incident, but I thought you would think… Well, I should have mentioned it regardless.’

  Eamon kept his gaze steady on hers. ‘Go on.’

  She moistened her lips. ‘I had a patient with a bowel obstruction come in—a Mrs Fuller. A&E was busy and I had a lot to keep track of. I…I looked through the notes once things had quietened down and I saw where I’d signed for a second shot of pethidine.’

  ‘And?’

  Her brow furrowed further. ‘The thing is…’ her throat rose and fell ‘…I don’t remember signing for it, although it is definitely my signature.’

  Eamon chose his words carefully. ‘So what you are saying is you are not sure if you signed for it or not?’

  She bit her lip again. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying. I just can’t explain how patients have ended up without the pain-relief I thought we’d administered. It doesn’t make sense.’

  Eamon let a small silence pass. He wanted to believe her. Was he so in love with her that he couldn’t be objective any more? ‘Do you have any explanation for what’s happened with these patients on transferral to Mr Gourlay’s care?’ he asked.

  ‘Tom Brightman suggested something just before I came to see you,’ she said. ‘He said maybe something was wrong with the batch of pethidine.’

  ‘If so then why are only select patients you have treated experiencing inadequate pain-relief?’ Eamon asked. ‘There have been no other
cases outside these.’

  She chewed at her lip again. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Is there anyone who you suspect who could be using you as a shield?’ he asked after another pause.

  She frowned at him. ‘What…you mean like forging my signature or something?’

  ‘It could be done, Erin. You don’t have a particularly complicated signature. I could do it myself at a pinch.’

  Her eyes moved away from his. ‘I’m not sure. Why would someone do that?’

  He let another silence pass, watching as she shifted her weight from foot to foot as her hands fidgeted in front of her body.

  ‘Erin.’ He drew her gaze and then locked down on it with his. ‘Why didn’t you have any narcotics in your trauma kit?’

  Her eyes widened and her face blanched. ‘Wh-what are you suggesting?’

  Eamon tightened his resolve. Keep it professional. Forget the personal. This is about patient care. ‘It is your responsibility to make sure your kit is fully stocked. You know the protocol—you sign for the drugs at the pharmacy, documentation is kept on all that are issued and all that are handed in past their due-by date.’ He waited a beat before adding, ‘It can all be checked by a simple phone call.’

  Her body stiffened. ‘You think I am taking drugs from the department? You think I am using drugs from my own bag?’

  He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You tell me.’

  She blew out a forceful whoosh of air. ‘I can’t believe you would think that. What sort of person do you think I am?’

  ‘Dr Taylor, these are very serious accusations that I—’

  ‘So it’s back to Dr Taylor, now, is it?’ she asked with a flash of her toffee-brown eyes. ‘That’s quite a change from last night, isn’t it?’

  Eamon drew in a calming breath. ‘I have to investigate this situation without allowing my personal feelings to get involved. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.’