by Sarah Morgan
His CT had shown severe cerebral oedema and his ICPs were through the roof—although he had a pulse, there was no blood pressure and everyone thought he was brain dead, and he actually had a flat EEG. It was forty-eight hours after the accident by the time he was hooked up to a ventilator in ICU. Anyway, he was warmed up, and everyone was expecting a brain-dead organ donor but to everyone’s amazement he woke up and eventually was extubated with no subsequent neurologic deficit. It got me to thinking about how the hypothermia may have protected his brain from the neuro insult.’
‘That’s very interesting,’ he said, glancing at her again. ‘One of my proposals is to randomly assign leaking aneurysm patients to standard therapy, or induction of hypothermia on admission, prior to, during and for forty-eight hours after aneurysm, clipping, and looking at a range of outcome parameters. Would you be interested in helping to run that project?’
‘Yes, I would,’ she said, sending him a small smile.
‘Great,’ he said, and returned to concentrating on finding a parking spot. ‘Perhaps we can get together during the next couple of days to fine-tune the details. But for now I’m starving. Is Italian food OK with you?’
‘I’m easy,’ Georgie said, and then realising what she’d inadvertently inferred, gave a little grimace and added hastily, ‘Er … I mean, that’s great.’
Ben just smiled as he came around to open her door.
CHAPTER SIX
THE Italian restaurant he had chosen was small but full of the delicious aromas of garlic and basil and home-cooked pasta. It was run by an Italian couple in their late fifties, Gina and Roberto, who greeted Ben warmly as he came in with Georgie a step or two behind.
‘Buona sera, Dottore Blackwood. Is this your new lady friend? And about time, too. We have been waiting for this for months. Leila Ingham was not pretty enough for you. This one magnifico!’
‘She’s my new registrar, actually,’ Ben said, clearly bursting the restaurateur’s bubble. ‘Georgie, this is Roberto and Gina Di Copella.’
‘Piacare di conoscerla,’ Georgie said with a friendly smile.
‘Parlate Italiano!’
Georgie rocked her hand back and forth in a gesture of modesty. ‘A little.’
Ben waited until they were seated and drinks ordered before he said, ‘I didn’t realise you were a bit of a linguist. That must come in handy at times.’
‘My parents paid for me to go on a six-week holiday to Italy when I finished high school,’ she said. ‘Then I went to France for a month after I finished medical school. Dad’s promised me a month in Switzerland once I finish neurosurgery.’
Ben thought of how he’d had to juggle three part-time jobs just to keep himself enrolled at university. There had been no all-expenses-paid holidays, he hadn’t really had a day off the whole time he had been studying. He’d barely had time to sleep. Did she have any idea how the other half lived? he wondered.
‘I suppose you went to a private school, huh?’ he asked. Georgie searched his face for a moment. ‘Yes, I did,’ she answered. ‘What about you?’ ‘No.’
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked after a little pause.
‘How am I looking at you?’
‘Is it my fault I was born into a wealthy background?’ she asked with a little frown.
‘No, but you need to be aware that others haven’t had it as easy as you,’ he said. ‘In your father’s day university was free—anybody could go as long as they had the academic ability, even those from poorer backgrounds. The graduates of today from every faculty are left with massive debts even before they get started in their chosen career. It more or less rules out a tertiary education for people from less affluent backgrounds.’
‘I’m quite aware of how hard it is for other people,’ she said. ‘But my parents have made a lot of sacrifices to give me the things they want to give me, things they didn’t have when they were my age.’
He gave a little grunt of cynicism and muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for her to hear it, ‘Yeah, like a Porsche and a penthouse.’
Georgie pointedly ignored his comment to ask, ‘Who is
Leila?’
His blue eyes showed no hint of emotion but Georgie could see how his jaw visibly tightened, a tiny jackhammer of tension tapping beneath the skin near his mouth. ‘No one important,’ he answered as he turned his attention to the menu in his hands.
‘You were in love with her?’ The question was out before she could pull it back.
His eyes met hers, a flicker of warning lurking in the dark blue depths. ‘I make it a habit to refrain from discussing my love life or lack thereof with my registrars,’ he said.
‘I didn’t mean to pry,’ she said with a little pout. ‘I just thought you might like to talk about it … you know, to help you get over it.’
He put the menu to one side and, leaning his forearms on the table, pinned her gaze with his. ‘I am over it, Dr Willoughby. Thank you for your concern but it is not needed or indeed welcome.’
She screwed up her mouth at him. ‘I thought we’d progressed past the formality of official titles or are you trying to intimidate me just because I hit on a raw nerve?’
‘I don’t have any raw nerves, and if I refer to you formally it’s only to remind you of our professional relationship in case you get any ideas of stepping over the boundaries.’
Her eyes widened in affront. ‘You think that I’m coming on to you?’
His brows hooked upwards wryly. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Of course not!’ she said, hot colour staining her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t dream of getting involved with someone like you.’
‘Too country for your tastes, Geor-gi-a-na?’ he asked with a curl of his lip.
She frowned heavily at his mocking pronunciation of her name. ‘That’s not what I meant at all.’
He picked up the wine list and turned slightly in his chair, which afforded her a view of his broad shoulder instead of his face. ‘I expect your father’s approval would have to be factored in when choosing a potential partner.’ He put the wine list down again and added, ‘It wouldn’t do to upset him in case he took it on himself to take back his Porsche or penthouse, not to mention the business-class, all-expenses-paid overseas holidays, now, would it?’
Georgie was almost speechless with anger. ‘Careful, Mr Blackwood, your country bumpkin complex is showing,’ she bit out through tight lips.
His dark eyes flared with anger at her jibe. ‘It’s true though, isn’t it? He would have a coronary if you got involved with someone like me.’
‘That’s not true,’ Georgie said, but without the strength of conviction necessary to convince him. She saw the scepticism in his expression but before she could say anything else Gina came over to take their orders.
‘Would you like some wine?’ Roberto came over to ask once his wife had left. ‘I have a cabernet shiraz that is eccellente.’
‘Just one glass for me,’ Georgie said with a smile.
‘And you, Dottore Blackwood?’ Roberto addressed Ben.
‘The same, thanks, Roberto,’ he answered, adding, once Roberto had joined his wife in the kitchen, ‘I had better keep a clear head in case I run into trouble on the road tomorrow.’
Georgie sent him a reproachful look. ‘Do you have to refer to that incident at every opportunity?’
‘I figure that since you’re now living in the same vicinity it wouldn’t hurt for me to be hyper-vigilant in future,’ he said breaking off a piece of garlic bread and popping it into his mouth.
She glared at him heatedly. ‘For your information I have a perfect driving record. I haven’t even got a parking ticket.’
‘None that you would have paid for yourself in any case,’ he said as he broke off another piece of bread.
Georgie flashed her eyes at him again. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
He made her wait for his answer by taking his time chewing and swallowing. ‘You drive a top-model Porsc
he and you live in a penthouse. I know registrars earn a heck of a lot in overtime but not enough to fund the sort of lifestyle you’re living.’
‘You know nothing about my lifestyle,’ she shot back.
‘Did you pay for your car yourself?’
Georgie set her mouth. ‘It was a birthday present but that’s none of your—’
‘What about the apartment?’ he cut her off with a mocking tone. ‘Was that a birthday present, too?’
Georgie could feel her fingers on the stem of her glass tightening and lowering her voice so the Italian couple wouldn’t hear, ground out through clenched teeth, ‘You don’t know how close you are to wearing a full glass of red wine.’
His eyes clashed with hers, one edge of his mouth tilting in a you-wouldn’t-dare smile. ‘That’s hardly the sort of behaviour a professor’s daughter should display in public, now, is it?’
‘Your behaviour is the problem, not mine,’ she returned. ‘You seem intent on deliberately picking a fight at every opportunity which I can only assume is because of a puerile attempt on your part to vicariously get back at my father for failing you in your fellowship.’
Ben’s brows snapped together. ‘I suppose you’ve discussed me at length with him, have you?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t even told him yet you’re my boss.’
‘I know exactly what he’ll say if and when you do,’ he said. ‘He’ll tell you I’m a country hick with hay stuck between my teeth and a slack attitude to study.’
‘If my father failed you, he would have only done so because he believed you weren’t up to the required standard at the time,’ Georgie said.
Ben leaned forward with his elbows on the table. ‘He failed me because he was a bigoted snob who didn’t like the fact that I had the guts to stand up to him, instead of simpering about in his exalted presence like the rest of my peers.’
Georgie had to clamp her mouth over her stinging retort when Gina appeared with their food. She gave the Italian woman a smile that stretched her mouth uncomfortably.
Once Gina had bustled away again Ben broke the brittle silence. ‘If your father didn’t tell you about my history with him, who did?’
‘Richard DeBurgh,’ she answered, as she picked up her cutlery. ‘And, like me, he thinks you’re being petty and childish about harping on about it.’
Ben’s lip lifted. ‘Oh, does he, now?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you’re pretty chummy with him, are you?’
‘I only met him for the first time today so I’d hardly call us best friends but, unlike you, he was nothing but helpful and encouraging towards me.’
‘I hate to burst your feminine ego bubble but he’s helpful and encouraging to all the female registrars,’ he said. ‘The only trouble, of course, is he’s married, so if you are thinking of upping your chances of a good report from him by sleeping with him, you’d better think again.’
Georgie put down her cutlery with a noisy clatter. ‘That’s a disgusting assumption to make, not only about him but me as well.’
His held her challenging glare. ‘So you’re pretty choosy, huh?’ he asked.
She picked up her fork and gave her ravioli a little jab. ‘I have certain standards, yes,’ she answered.
‘Lots of money being one of them, I take it.’
Georgie pursed her mouth as she met his taunting look. ‘You have a rather poor opinion of women, don’t you? Money is not an issue for me, neither is it for a lot of women. What women want in this day and age is a man who is reliable, faithful and not afraid of showing how much he cares for her. If I found a man like that, I wouldn’t care if he earned half my wage or even a quarter.’
‘You wouldn’t have to, given your wealthy background,’ he pointed out cynically. ‘Your father could top up the bank account for you any time you asked.’
She put down her cutlery again and this time got to her feet as well. ‘I can see this is going to be a complete waste of time and food, sitting here with you,’ she said. ‘I thought the last man I went on a date with was bad but you’ve taken dates from hell down to a whole new level.’
He leaned back in his chair indolently. ‘If you recall, we aren’t technically on a date,’ he reminded her coolly.
Georgie was momentarily stuck for a retort.
‘Are you going to sit down and eat that or not?’ he asked, indicating her barely touched food.
She put her hand on her hip and glared at him. ‘I suppose this is the part where you give me the boy from the poor background lecture on wasting perfectly good food, is it?’
‘No,’ Ben said. ‘This is the part where I tell you that unless you sit down and finish that meal, Gina and Roberto will feel incredibly insulted. They’re nice people and have worked hard to build up this restaurant and will take it personally if you walk out without doing justice to what they prepared for you.’
A battle seemed to be playing out on her face but in the end she blew out a breath and sat down again, her expression stormy as she resumed eating almost mechanically, as if she couldn’t wait to get away from his presence.
He watched her as she chomped and chewed, her toffee-brown gaze clashing with his from time to time, twin pools of pink on her cheeks.
He let the silence throb for a few more minutes before he broke it with, ‘Tell me more about this dating embargo you’re on. How did that come about?’
She gave a little grimace as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. ‘My flatmate and I have had the most appallingly bad luck with men,’ she said. ‘We decided to make a pact to see if we could stay the distance. Three months with no official dates. If one of us breaks the deal we have to pay one thousand dollars.’
‘Have you found it hard so far?’
She gave him an ironic look. ‘It’s only the second week of January so, no, not at all.’
‘Will that be the longest you’ve been without male company?’ he asked.
Georgie tried to read his expression but could make little of it. ‘I’m not a serial dater if that’s what you’re implying,’ she said. ‘For one thing I’ve been studying for the last nine years so that has been my main focus. What about you? How long has it been since you broke up with Leila?’
‘I can’t really remember,’ he said, shifting his gaze from hers. ‘Nine months or so, I guess.’
‘Have you dated anyone since?’
His eyes moved back to meet hers. ‘You’re the first,’ he said with a rueful look, ‘although technically this isn’t a date.’
‘No … of course it isn’t,’ Georgie said, trying not to stare at his well-shaped mouth for too long.
‘So, Dr Willoughby,’ he said with a hint of a smile, ‘your thousand dollars is still safe.’
Not as safe as I’d like it to be, Georgie thought. God, he was so gorgeous when he smiled like that. His midnight-blue eyes crinkled up at the corners and his features relaxed, giving him a laid-back, devil-may-care demeanour that was totally irresistible.
Her stomach did a rapid tumble turn when she thought of how it would feel to have those firm lips pressed to hers, the stroke and glide of his tongue parting the shield of her lips to hunt down and mate with hers. Desire began to crawl over her skin, making it lift and tighten all over. The tender spot between her thighs began to pulse with longing to feel the thick invasion of his male presence, his rock-hard abdomen slick with sweat as it pinned hers beneath him in the most intimate way possible …
‘Have I got spinach in my teeth or something?’ he asked jerking her away from her traitorous thoughts.
‘Er … no.’ she said, desperately trying to control the steady creep of colour in her cheeks.
‘You were staring at my mouth.’
She feigned a guileless look. ‘Was I?’
‘Yes.’
Georgie forced her gaze to hold his teasing one. ‘I guess you’re pretty used to having women stare at you all the time but, let me assure you, in this case it had no
thing whatsoever to do with your physical attributes. I was thinking about something else entirely.’
‘What were you thinking about?’
She looked at him for a moment while her brain hunted for a lie. ‘Um … dessert,’ she said, mentally congratulating herself for finding something that was at least partially true. ‘I was thinking of what I could have for dessert.’
His eyes dipped to her mouth before returning to hers, a cryptic little smile turning up the edges of his mouth. ‘So was I,’ he said, and handed her the menu, his fingers brushing against hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GEORGIE buried her head in the menu, her fingers still tingling where Ben’s had touched hers. She was ashamed at her weakness. She had been so confident she would win the bet with Rhiannon but she could see that things were going to get tricky if she didn’t put a stop to this right now. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been so instantly attracted to a man. Sure, she’d had a few boyfriends, and Andrew McNally, the last one, had been relatively serious. She had even considered herself in love enough to contemplate marriage until she had found out his previous girlfriend hadn’t quite moved out of his life.
Georgie realised that it had been her pride that had taken the beating, not her heart. But falling in love with Ben Blackwood was not just going to lose her a thousand dollars. He had a chip on his shoulder that was going to take quite some shifting and she wasn’t sure she was up to the task of doing it.
Besides, she was supposed to be focusing on her career, not marriage and babies, although the thought of a baby with dark blue eyes was certainly very tempting. So, too, was the method of conceiving one.
‘What have you decided?’
Georgie looked at him blankly. ‘What?’
He indicated the menu in her hands. ‘Dessert,’ he said. ‘Are you a gelato girl or a cheesecake chick?’
She looked back at the menu, this time actually reading what was printed there. ‘It’s a toss-up between the cheesecake and the chocolate mousse,’ she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his steady gaze.