His heart thudded as she took the newspaper and scanned down. Her fine features hardened, her shoulders tightened. One small move and he could have had her in his arms, stroking her cheek, trying to protect her, but he controlled himself.
Protect her? Like he could. Like he’d be around long enough. Like he’d ever be fully available to give her what she needed.
The last time he’d been supposed to look out for someone he’d failed miserably. Hopelessly. And he’d been paying for it ever since. So this urge to protect Dani sounded warning bells. Already things were getting too personal. For God’s sake, he hardly knew her.
But something inside her connected with something in him. That hadn’t happened for a very long time.
He needed to shake it loose. Close off the feelings she stoked in him. Usually physical distance worked, but stuck on a bus in the only available seat made that impossible. He edged to the corner of the banquette. And watched her do the same. So the feeling was mutual. That suited him fine.
Outside, the crowds had thickened along the fan trail cheering the team bus along. Dotted along the route bands blasted out rousing tunes, stilt walkers and jugglers entertained the throngs. A flashmob dance troupe filled the road when the coach stopped at traffic lights. Flags with each team’s colours adorned every pole and post. Outside the coach, the world had come to party. Inside, the silence hung around them like a weight pressing on his shoulders.
He scanned the players. Most of them had headphones on and seemed to be focusing on the beat. Occasionally one of them waved to the crowd. In a few minutes they’d be heading into what should be the most exciting thing to happen in his career to date and yet Zac’s head whirred with a whole host of other emotions. One of which was anger. At himself. At the press. At Dani for instilling these kind of feelings in him. One minute he’d decided he should be far away from her, the next he wanted to hold her, protect her. He was mixed up and then some.
He kept his voice low as he pointed to the article. ‘I’m sorry I caused all this. It definitely won’t happen again.’
‘And I’m sorry you’ve been embarrassed by your association with me.’ She bristled. ‘I’m sorry your parents will be horrified.’
He laughed ruefully. ‘I’m thirty-four. It’s been a long time since I cared what my parents think.’ Liar.
‘And yet when you say that you look away, as if you don’t believe it yourself.’ The light in her eyes, so clearly depicted in the photograph, had well and truly gone out.
‘What will your father think?’
‘Oh, yes. Of course, the most important issue for us all. Never mind how to deal with the gross invasion of privacy, conjecture and outright lies, but what will Davide think? He’ll be furious, probably because he hadn’t thought of it himself.’ Now the light was replaced with the kind of scorn equal only to his own father’s. The barriers he’d glimpsed last night were well and truly locked in place. Her head shook and she bit the corner of her lip. ‘But it’ll get you noticed. Which, I guess, is what you wanted all along.’
She thought he wanted Davide’s approval? Well, didn’t he? ‘I was honestly trying to help you. I didn’t do it to get Davide’s attention. I’m not like that. Why would you think that?’
‘Because, in my experience, that’s what people do. You’re in his management team, aren’t you? Surely it must have crossed your mind that if you do well here you’ll have endless offers...perhaps the national team? Doesn’t every New Zealand sports doctor want to work with the All Blacks?’
He couldn’t deny it was top of his wish-list. ‘Well...’
‘Ching. Ching. Out of time, Dr Price. Your pause says it all. You’re one of those alpha types who have to succeed, and being associated with me won’t hurt. Right? Hoping I might put a good word in? Using me to get to my dad?’
‘You’re twisting things.’
‘No, honey, you twisted it last night when you took my arm in front of the paparazzi.’ She looked like she wanted to twist some other part of him. He crossed his legs.
‘I was trying to rescue you.’
‘When will you get it into that thick skull of yours? I don’t need rescuing.’ Her fist wrapped round a chunk of hair, then she pressed it against her mouth. But this time he let her go right on and do it, guessing another overt gesture of helpfulness wouldn’t go down too well right now.
He pointed to the picture of their so-called public display of affection. They looked damned good together, that he couldn’t deny. ‘Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. It could have been worse, at least they got my good side.’
‘Do you have one?’ She glared at him. ‘Is this all just a joke to you?’
Far from it.
The bus pulled up at the stadium, fans clustered into the car park and loud cheers resonated across the skies. Zac raised his voice slightly, but not loud enough that anyone else would hear. ‘I’m trying to maintain a sense of humour and not ruin what’s going to be a great day.’ He smiled, trying to convince her. ‘Besides, that journalist needs to check her facts. She’s got the two stories mixed up. Lady Godiva had absolutely nothing to do with Sir Lancelot. They certainly weren’t in any kind of relationship.’
Dani gathered up her bags, stood and pierced him with a look of disdain that left nothing to his imagination. ‘And that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.’
* * *
They were losing.
Didn’t matter that she’d done her job to perfection. Had stuck to the game plan, managed the sideline checks, seamlessly relayed information to the coach via wireless headset microphone. Didn’t matter how consummate a professional she looked, how dedicated or competent. Didn’t matter because once the players were on the pitch it was out of her control.
At half time she’d brought Jaxon back from a close injury call and iced three hamstrings and a shoulder. Stuck them back together again.
They needed to score. And fast.
Zac sat next to her on the bench, his right leg jigging up and down to some beat only he could hear. ‘Ten minutes to go. We need to pull something out of the bag or we’ll go into the next game on the back foot. We have to beat this lot—they’re the weakest team in the pool.’
‘And losing the first game will make them the laughing-stock of the tournament.’ Just another thing to add to her father’s mounting ire. If he saw the photograph in the paper his anger would fire off the scale, meaning she’d have to try even harder to make him happy.
And just to add to the tension she had the biggest crush of her life on the one person she needed to stay well away from.
Despite the trouble he’d caused, her body had decided it quite liked Zachary Price and was on an all-out bid to convince her brain. Every time she set eyes on him her skin tingled—unless he broke her out in hives which, seeing how irritating he was, could be eminently feasible. But she got hot in places that had never been hot before. Her heart did a funny arrhythmic dance.
This never happened. Never could happen. Not when her focus was on her father. Which was why she needed to adopt all-out avoidance tactics. Not easy when she was stuck with Zac almost 24/7.
She scanned the pitch for any playing concerns.
Jaxon motioned from the field; his thigh injury was obviously causing him distress. ‘Hey, Coach.’ She clicked the switch and spoke into the mic. ‘Next time there’s a break in play we’ll have to sort out Jaxon’s hamstring. I’d suggest bringing him off, but we need him.’
‘Got you.’ Matt’s disjointed voice crackled down.
‘Come on, Jets.’ Zac yelled, and shifted in his seat. His smell wafted around her. She forced back the million things his proximity made her want to do. Hit him. Hold him. Kiss him.
And then suddenly he was running onto the pitch screaming at her to bring the bag, the ice. Her arrhythmia kicked into full force as she grabbed at the equipment and raced towards the player prone on the grass.
‘Manu? Manu? Can you hear me?’ Zac tapped the player’s cheek. ‘M
anu?’
‘Yeah?’ Manu’s voice sounded fractured and hazy.
Zac tipped his head up and looked at her, his eyes cautious but determined. ‘Hey, Dani. Head collision. The other one’s okay. Their doctor’s seeing to him.’
‘You want to bring him off?’
‘Let’s see if he can stand.’ He shifted an arm under Manu’s back and manoeuvred him upright. The player staggered to the left but Zac held on to his arm. ‘You okay, mate?’
‘Yeah. Gotta stay and play, though.’
Dani smiled and inched closer to him, aware that this game was possibly the most important in Manu’s life. He wouldn’t want to come off, however badly hurt he was, so they needed to deal with this delicately. A concerned hum rippled round the stadium at one of the star players being injured in the first game. The TV cameras would be fixed on them. She tried to concentrate on their patient, not on the large screens showing her in close-up or on Zac. Definitely not on Zac. ‘Manu. There’s only a few minutes left to go. Let’s get that head looked at so you can play next round.’
‘I’m good. I can stay on.’
‘No, mate. I’m telling you. You’re coming off.’ She flicked her switch again. ‘Bringing him off, Matt.’
‘Says who?’ Manu’s manner darkened. He jumped up and lurched forward, his large face inches from hers, blood running down his cheek from a gash on his forehead, his teeth bared. His eyes looked like they were trying to focus, with little success. If she’d met him in a dark alleyway she’d have run in the opposite direction. Right now she had to face him down in front of the crowd. ‘You’re not the coach. You’re just a woman. What do you know? I’m staying. Okay?’
‘Enough.’ Zac stood between them and faced off the six-feet-two player. Determined, but assertive, Zac’s voice held no nonsense and just enough empathy. ‘Listen. You need a thorough assessment. Head injuries can be a lot worse than just a headache and blurred vision. I’m not taking any risks. As for Dani? She’s our physio, so you’ll listen to her. And I’m the doctor, and right now we’re in charge. We’re both telling you, you need to get off the pitch. Now.’ Then he looped his arm round the player’s shoulder and frog marched him to the sideline.
The raging tachycardia didn’t stop until she left the field accompanied by a round of applause. Although she knew that was probably for Manu’s efforts earlier in the game rather than anything the medical team had done.
‘Is he okay?’ she asked Zac, who was handing their patient over to the ambulance service pitch-side. He flicked his phone into his pocket.
‘Mild concussion, I imagine. Hence the volatile temper. He’ll be fine. I’ve just organised an assessment by a neurologist—they’re taking him now.’
‘Good.’ Although she could have dealt with Manu on her own she’d been glad for Zac’s support. He’d taken a candid attitude in a situation that needed to be dealt with quickly. Even though she was loath to admit, Zac had so far proved to be a skilled doctor and negotiator.
She couldn’t help but steal just another quick glimpse of his face. The tiny dimple that winked at her with every smile. The deep warmth in those dark brown eyes. The strength in the arms that had almost carried a grown man off the pitch. She knew how it felt to be wrapped in them and had a wicked ache to be there again.
A roar reverberated around the crowd. No. She’d missed something important. She turned quickly to watch the replay on the large TV screen.
A try! A try by the Jets, nudging them into a draw. One swift conversion kick and they’d be in the lead. Along with the rest of the crowd she held her breath as Jaxon stepped up to kick. She had to hand it to him; he always seemed so self-assured. Like Zac. That God-given confidence that some men had in abundance. That Zac wore like a comfortable suit.
The ball flew over the bar. The final whistle blew. Game over. They’d won. One hurdle down, another two hundred to go.
She blew out a breath and forced more air back into her lungs. Her father would be pleased. That would make her existence happier until the next game in a few days. No major injuries, excepting a head injury.
She just had to remember to concentrate on the game and not on that alluring dimple.
‘You okay, Daniella?’ Zac caught her up along the player’s tunnel en route to the treatment room. The way he said her name made her stomach flip. No one ever called her that unless she was in serious trouble, but he made it sound pretty. Sexy. It had been a very long time since she’d felt sexy. So she was definitely in trouble. ‘I see a lot of icing and strapping in your future.’
Concentrate on work. ‘Yes, but nothing too major, apart from Manu. They’ll all live.’
He touched her arm, stopped her in her tracks and waited until the tunnel had emptied. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure. Why?’ The way he looked at her with such concern was disconcerting. Did he think she was weak? ‘You think I can’t handle this?’
‘Absolutely you can. I’ve no doubt at all.’ His hand reached out towards her cheek for a split second, then he appeared to have second thoughts. ‘You looked a bit shaken when Manu lunged at you. I was worried.’
‘Whoa? Pretty Boy turning soft?’ Please don’t do this. Don’t be nice. Nice is too difficult to resist. ‘I could have handled it. I’m not a helpless cavewoman, even though you act like a Neanderthal.’
‘I can’t help it.’ He grinned, leaned over and whispered close to her ear. Once again his hot breath tickled her skin. Heat pooled in her abdomen, then rippled out in wave after wave of disturbing but delicious sensations through her body. ‘You bring out the caveman in me, all restless and fighting and needing to protect.’
‘Well, go and protect someone else. Somewhere else. I hear there are a lot of damsels in distress in Siberia. Mongolia?’ Anywhere but in this deserted dark tunnel. ‘We’ve got to go and run the injury clinic. The last thing I need is more ill-informed gossip.’
‘We could give them something to gossip about.’ His lips curled into a tantalising smile. He watched her reaction, seemingly mesmerised by the emotions she knew were crossing her face. So much for avoidance tactics. No matter how hard she tried to remain impartial about him, she failed.
His smile reached dark brown eyes that promised her a million sins. ‘I’ve been thinking about that sex ban. I’m compiling a list of all the things we could do that don’t involve the actual act. More like sex-free sex. Everything...but.’
Now his hand touched her shoulder, firing intense shivers of heat into her stomach. His voice, deeper, edgier. ‘So how about you help me come up with a few ideas? I vote for...stroking first. Lots and lots of stroking.’
‘Zac.’ She tried for a warning tone, but it came out more like a squeak. A breathless, wanton squeak.
‘Hmm? Here. And here. Stroking. Touching. Rubbing.’ His fingers walked slowly from her shoulder, to her neck. To that sensitive dip above her collarbone. She curled instinctively into his touch. The fantasy and the danger threatening to send her over the edge. Before she knew it she’d be adding to that list.
No—she’d be writing her own. How did it go? Hit him...? ‘And now you’re a walking, talking thesaurus?’
‘But you like it. I can tell.’
She shook her head and closed her eyes. Take control.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One. But counting backwards from three thousand probably wouldn’t be enough. She purposefully loaded her prosaic schoolmarm voice that she used with the unruly kids at work. ‘How about emigration? Castration?’
‘You’re getting the hang of it, but it needs work.’
At the smirk on his face she hardened. ‘Look, Zachary. I told you before...I’m just not interested.’
‘So say it like you mean it and I’ll walk....’
‘Ahem. Now, now, children. Play nicely.’ Matt’s voice crackled loudly into Dani’s ear. ‘Can you two kiss and make up quickly, then get down here. Davide’s demanding to talk to you both about that newspaper photo. And I’m up to my neck in sticking pl
aster.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WHAT?’ ZAC GLARED right back at the coach across the small treatment room. The interminable debrief was thankfully coming to an end and he would finally be able to get his head together. Impossible to do when the place was wall-to-wall with management suits and freshly laundered players. And only if he could get Matt off his case. He looked like he had a bad case of terminal indigestion—all bloated and blotchy faced. With Davide’s back turned the coach chopped his fingers across his throat. Stop. Zac interpreted. Cut it out.
So what? He was a highly skilled professional, not some unruly hormone-crazed teenager. And he’d speak with Dani any way he liked. Even if it did mean out-of-bounds top-notch flirting. Because, well, she was good at it, and stopping would be such a waste. It wasn’t doing anyone any harm.
Next time he’d make sure her earpiece was turned off.
Next time... Okay. Sense flooded back with the blood to his brain. There shouldn’t be a next time.
His head pounded. He’d so nearly kissed her. Temptation had pulled him closer to those divine lips, the smile hovering over her mouth attracting him like a bee to a honeypot. And God, yes, he’d been rattled by Manu’s attack on her. Some feral force inside him had made him want to protect her, and flatten Manu.
His track record in protection didn’t exactly shine with excellence. So right now he needed to stop with this insane urge to save her and focus more on saving his job.
Danatello turned and surveyed the group. His steely glare fixed each person in turn.
‘Not good enough, team. A narrow victory clawed from the jaws of defeat. We have to do better.’ Zac understood how the man had become so successful; he dominated the room, his voice like clear cut crystal.
Like Zac’s own father Davide could wither people with a stare and failure wasn’t an option. But unlike Zac’s dusty, stuffy father with his padded elbows and baggy khakis, Davide had Mr Business written all over him. And with fat ruddy cheeks, rotund belly and periodic sharp intakes of breath he was a high-fat, high-stress heart attack waiting to happen. Although Zac doubted the boss would ever let him close enough with a stethoscope to check him out. ‘We need more pressure up front. Early attack. More focus. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Bed now, everyone. Apart from the doc and Dani, I need a quick word with you both.’
The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date Page 4