Tempted By Mr Off-Limits
* * *
It was a relief to get to work. A relief to stop thinking about Hamish. It was crazy but Lola hadn’t expected to feel what she’d felt when she’d opened the door to him. She’d actually been looking forward to seeing Hamish again. Quite aside from the sex, he was a nice guy and a fun to be around. Even a few months later she still caught herself smiling at the memory of the note she’d found the morning after they’d had sex on the couch.
You looked so beautiful sleeping I didn’t want to disturb you.
I’m heading home now.
Thank you for an unforgettable night.
Hamish
He’d drawn a smiley face beside his name and Lola had laughed and hugged it to her chest, secretly thrilled to be unforgettable.
Sure, she’d known their first meeting after that night would be awkward to begin with but had expected it to dissipate quickly.
She’d been dead wrong about that.
His presence on her doorstep—big and solid, more jaw than any man had a right to—had been like a shockwave breaking over her. She’d felt like she was having some kind of out-of-body experience, where she was above herself, looking down, the universe whispering He’s the one in her ear.
She’d panicked. Hell, she was still panicking.
Firstly, she didn’t believe in the one. Sure, she knew people stayed together for ever. Her parents had been married for thirty-two years. But to her it was absurd to think there was only one person out there for everyone. It was more statistically believable, given the entire population of the world, that there were many ones out there.
People just didn’t know it because they were too busy with their current one.
Secondly, she honestly believed finding the one didn’t apply to every person on the planet. Lola believed some people were destined to never settle down, that they were too content with the company of many and being children of the world to ground themselves.
And that was the category into which Lola fell. Into which Great-Aunt May fell. A spinster at seventy-five, May hadn’t needed the one to be fulfilled. Lola had never known a person more accomplished, more well travelled or more Zen with her life.
And, thirdly, if Lola fell and smacked her head and had a complete personality change and suddenly did believe in such nonsense, her one would never be a guy from a small town.
Never.
She’d run from a small town for a reason. She hadn’t wanted to be with a guy who was content to stay put, whose whole life was his patch of dirt or his business, or the place he’d grown up. Which was why her reaction to Hamish was so disconcerting.
Hamish Gibson couldn’t be the one for her.
No. She was just really...sexually attracted to him. Hell, she’d thought about him so much these past three months it was only natural to have had a reaction to him when she’d opened the door and seen him standing right in front of her.
But she wasn’t going there again.
Which was why work was such a blessing. Something else to occupy her brain. And, yowsers, did she need it today to deal with her critical patient.
Emma Green was twenty-three years old and in acute cardiac failure. She’d been born with a complex cardiac disorder and had endured several operations and bucketloads of medication already in her young life. But a mild illness had pushed her system to the limit and her enlarged heart muscle into the danger zone.
She’d gone into cardiac arrest at the start of the shift down in the emergency department and had been brought to ICU in a critical condition. Which meant it was a whirlwind of a shift. There were a lot of drugs to give, bloods to take, tests to run. Medication and ventilation settings were constantly tweaked and adjusted as the intensive care team responded to Emma’s condition minute by minute.
As well as that, there was a veritable royal flush of specialists and their entourages constantly in and out, needing extra things, sucking up time she didn’t have, all wanting their orders prioritised. There were cardiac and respiratory teams as well as radiologists and pharmacists, physiotherapists and social workers.
And there was Emma’s family to deal with. Her parents, who had already been through so much with Emma over the years. Her mother teary, her father stoic—both old hands at the jargon and the solemn medical faces. And Emma’s boyfriend, Barry, who was not. He was an emotional wreck, swinging from sad to angry, from positive to despondent.
Not that she could blame him. Emma looked awful. There was barely a spare inch of skin that wasn’t criss-crossed by some kind of tubing or wires. She had a huge tube in her nose where the life support was connected and securing it obscured half of her face, which was puffy—as was the rest of her body—from days of retained fluid due to her worsening cardiac condition.
Lola was used to this environment, to how terrible critical patients could look. She was immune to it. But she understood full well how hard it was for people to see someone they loved in this condition. She’d witnessed the shocked gasps too many times, the audible sobs as the sucker-punch landed.
The gravity of the situation always landed with a blow. The sudden knowledge that their loved one was really, really sick, that they could die, was a terrible whammy. So Emma’s boyfriend’s reactions were perfectly normal, as far as Lola was concerned.
And all just part of her job.
‘It really is okay to talk to her,’ Lola assured Barry as he sat rigidly in a chair by the window, repeatedly finger-combing his hair. It was the first time he’d been alone with Emma since she’d been admitted. Her mother and father were taking it in turns to sit with Barry at the bedside but they’d both ducked out for a much-needed cup of coffee and a bite to eat.
Barry glanced at Emma and shook his head. ‘I don’t want to get in the way or bump anything.’
Lola smiled. ‘It’s okay, I’ll be right here keeping an eye on you.’ She kept it light because she could tell that Barry was petrified of the high-tech environment, which was quite common. ‘And I promise I’ll push you out the way if I need to, okay?’
He gave a worried laugh, still obviously doubtful, and Lola nodded encouragingly and smiled again. ‘I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.’
His eyes flew to Lola’s in alarm. ‘I thought she was sedated.’
‘She is,’ Lola replied calmly. ‘But even unconscious patients can still hear things. There have been plenty of people who’ve woken from comas or sedation and been able to recite bedside conversations word for word.’
Barry chewed on his bottom lip. ‘I...don’t know what to say to her.’
The despair in his voice hit Lola in every way. Barry was clearly overwhelmed by everything. She gestured him over to the seat Emma’s mother had vacated not that long ago. He came reluctantly.
‘Just tell her you’re here,’ Lola said, as he sat. ‘Tell her you love her. Tell her she’s in safe hands.’
‘Okay.’ Barry’s voice trembled a little.
Lola turned to her patient. ‘Emma,’ she said quietly, placing a gentle hand on Emma’s forearm, ‘Barry’s here. He’s going to sit with you for a while.’
There wasn’t any response from Emma—Lola didn’t expect there would be—just the steady rise and fall of her chest and the rapid blipping of her monitor. Lola smiled at Barry as she withdrew her hand. ‘Just put your hand where I had mine, okay? There’s nothing you can bump there.’ Barry tentatively slid his hand into place and Lola nodded. ‘That’s good. Now just talk to her.’
Lola moved away but not very far, hovering until Barry became more confident. He didn’t say anything for a moment or two and when he started his voice was shaky but he started. ‘Hey, Emsy.’ His voice cracked and he cleared it. ‘I’m here and... I’m not going anywhere. You’re in good hands and everything’s going to be okay.’
Lola wasn’t entirely sure that was true. She knew how fragile Emma’s condition was and part of her was truly worried her patient wasn’t going to make it through the shift. But humans needed hope to go on, to endure, and she’d certainly been proved wrong before by patients.
Barry was doing the right thing. For him and for Emma.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘SO? WHEN ARE you going to settle down?’
Hamish sighed at his sister, who was slightly tipsy after a few glasses of champagne. They were sitting on the balcony of their new apartment, which was also in Manly but at the more exclusive end, with harbour views. Marcus had moved out of his apartment near Kirribilli General when he and Grace had decided to move in together because they’d wanted an apartment that was theirs.
‘God, you’re like a reformed smoker. You’re in love so you want everyone else to be as well.’
Grace smiled at Marcus, who smiled back as he slid his hand onto her nape. Hamish rolled his eyes at them but it was obvious his sister was in love and he was happy for her. She’d had a tough time in her first serious relationship so it was good to see her like this.
‘You’re thirty, Hamish. You’re not getting any younger. Surely there has to be some girl in Toowoomba who takes your fancy.’
‘There’s no point getting into a relationship when I’m hoping to spend a few years doing rural service after the course is done.’
Hamish had recently been passed over for a transfer to a station in the far west of the state because he didn’t have an official intensive care paramedic qualification, even though he had the skills. It had spurred him to apply for a position on the course.
‘It’s hardly fair to get involved with someone knowing I could be off to the back of beyond at a moment’s notice,’ he added.
Grace sighed in exasperation. ‘Maybe she’d want to go with you.’
Unbidden, an image of Lola slipped into his mind. He couldn’t begin to imagine her in a small country town. She’d cornered the market in exotic city girl. She was like a hothouse flower—temperamental, high maintenance—and the outback was no place for hothouse flowers.
Women had to be more like forage sorghum. Durable and tough. And although Lola was tough and independent in many ways, there was something indefinably urban about her.
‘I don’t know whether you know this or not, but you’re a bit of catch, Hamish Gibson. Good looking even, though it pains me to admit it. Don’t you think so, Marcus?’
Grace smiled at her fiancé, a teasing light in her eyes. ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, his expression totally deadpan. ‘I was just saying that very thing to Lola the other day.’
Lola.
It seemed the universe was doing its best to keep her on his mind. ‘And did she agree?’ Hamish was pretty sure Marcus was just making it up to indulge his sister but, hell, if they’d had a conversation about him, then Hamish wanted to know!
‘Of course she’d agree,’ Grace said immediately. ‘Lola can pick good looking out of a Sydney New Year’s Eve crowd blindfolded.’
Hamish grinned at his sister. ‘I’ll have to remember that this New Year.’
Something in Hamish’s voice must have pinged on his sister’s radar. Apparently she wasn’t tipsy enough to dull that sucker. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze zeroed in on him. ‘No, Hamish.’
‘What?’ Hamish spread his hands in an innocent gesture.
‘You and Lola would not be good for each other.’
Hamish grabbed his chest as if she’d wounded him. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re too alike. You’re both flirts. You like the conquest but suck at any follow-through. You have to live together for two months, Hamish. That’s a lot of awkward breakfasts. And I don’t want to be caught in the middle between you two or have my friendship with Lola jeopardised because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.’
Hamish didn’t think Lola would be the one who’d get burned in a relationship between the two of them. He at least was open to the idea of relationships—she, on the other hand, was not. He glanced at his soon-to-be brother-in-law. ‘Help me out here, man.’
Marcus laughed and shook his head. ‘You’re on your own, buddy.’
‘C’mon, dude. Solidarity.’
Grace shook her head at her brother. ‘In an hour I’m going to take my fiancé to bed and do bad things to him. You think he’s going to side with you?’
Hamish glanced at a clearly besotted Marcus, who was smiling at Grace like the sun rose and set with her, and a wave of hot green jealousy swamped his chest. He wanted that. What his sister had found with Marcus.
Contrary to apparent popular opinion, he’d never been opposed to settling down. He just hadn’t found the right woman. For ever was, after all, a long time! But watching these two together...
They were the perfect advertisement for happily ever after.
Once upon a time the idea of eternal monogamy would have sent him running for the hills but these two sure knew how to sell it.
‘Okay. Well, that was TMI.’ He gave the lovebirds an exaggerated grimace. ‘And is definitely my cue to go.’
He stood, but his sister wasn’t done with him yet. ‘I mean it, Hamish. I wouldn’t have suggested you move in with Lola if I thought you’d make a move on her.’
‘I’m not going to,’ he protested.
Clearly, Grace didn’t believe him. ‘She’s off-limits, okay?’
He was much too much of a gentleman to suggest Grace have this conversation with her bestie who had all but jumped him three months ago. But it did annoy him that somehow he was the bad guy here. ‘I think Lola can take care of herself.’
Grace shook her head at his statement, thankfully a little too tipsy to read anything into his terseness. ‘She comes across that way, I know. Brash and tough and in control. But she feels things as deeply as the next woman.’
A memory of Lola’s glistening eyelashes flashed on his retinas, the weight of her sadness about her patient as tangible now as it had been that night. Hamish sighed. Yeah. He knew how deeply Lola felt.
‘Lola and I are roomies only.’ He moved around to his sister and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘Thank you for dinner.’ She went to stand but he placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘You guys stay there. I can let myself out.’
Grace squeezed the hand on her shoulder. ‘Good luck on Monday. Ring me and let me know how your first shift went.’
‘I will.’ Hamish shook Marcus’s hand. ‘Goodnight.’
He left them to it, happy that his sister had found love but pleased to be away from their enviable public displays of affection.
* * *
Lola enjoyed about five seconds of contentment when she woke on Sunday morning before she remembered who was sleeping in the room across the hallway.
The feeling evaporated immediately.
She rolled her head to the side. Nine thirty. Normally she’d stretch and sigh happily and contemplate a lazy Sunday morning. No work to get to. No place to be. Her time her own.
Normally she’d walk down to one of the cafés that lined the Manly esplanade to eat smashed avocado and feta on rye bread while she watched people amble past. Maybe even stay in bed, read a good book. Or sloth around in front of the television, watching rom coms and eating Vegemite toast.
But she wasn’t going to be able to sloth around for the next two months. Because Hamish was here.
Lola stared at the ceiling fan turning lazy circles above her. It was dark and cool in her room as it was on the western side of the apartment but the prediction was for a warm day. She strained her ears to hear any movement from outside.
Was he up?
Lola shut her eyes as that led to completely inappropriate thoughts and a strange dropping sensation in the pit of her stomach.
Do not think about Hamish being up, Lola.
Was he out of bed? That was more appropriate. She couldn’t hear any noises but she’d bet her last cent he was. He was a country boy after all. And she’d known enough of them in her life to know they liked their sunrises.
Ugh. Give her a sunset any day.
Gathering her courage, she sat up and swung her legs out of bed. She had to face him some time. She couldn’t spend the next two months avoiding him like she had yesterday, running out on him about twenty minutes after he’d arrived and nodding a quick hello to him last night before heading to her room with the excuse of being tired.
So just get out there, already, and face him!
Dressing quickly in a simple floral sundress with shoestring straps, Lola pulled the band on her plait and fluffed out her hair a little. She’d left it in overnight to help with knot control and to tame the curls to a crinkly wave instead of a springy mess.
But that was it—she refused to make herself pretty for Hamish. Normally when meeting a guy she’d put on some make-up, spray on her favourite perfume and wear her best lingerie. Today she was wearing no make-up, she smelled only of the washing powder she used on her clothes and she deliberately chose mismatched, comfortable underwear.
Not that he was in the kitchen or the living room when she made an appearance and, for a second, a ribbon of hope wound through her belly before she flicked her gaze to the balcony to find him sitting at the table. Resigned, Lola poured two glasses of juice, slamming most of hers down before topping it up and wondering if it was too early for a slug of vodka.
Pulling in a steadying breath, she picked up the glasses and went out to make polite conversation. He turned as she slid the screen door open. Her heart was practically in her mouth as she prepared herself for her body to go crazy again but the incredibly visceral reaction from yesterday didn’t reappear and Lola smiled in relief.
It had clearly been an anomaly.
He smiled back and her belly swooped but it was still an improvement on yesterday. Plus, he was sitting there shirtless. A damp pair of running shorts clinging to his thighs was the only thing keeping him decent and that was up for debate.
‘You’ve been for a run?’ Lola gave herself full marks for how normal she sounded as she slid his glass across the tabletop. She was going to need to channel a lot of that if he was planning on walking around here shirtless very often.
‘Yep.’ He lifted the glass as if he was toasting her and swallowed the whole thing in several long gulps. Gulps that drew her gaze to the stretch of his neck and those gingery whiskers. ‘Thanks.’ He put the glass on the table. ‘I needed that.’
She noticed he had an empty water bottle by his elbow.
‘I can get you some more.’ Lola stood. She needed a moment after that display of manliness. Escaping to the fridge seemed the perfect excuse.
He waved her back down. ‘Nah. I’m good.’
‘So you...run every morning.’
‘Not every morning. But regularly enough. I figured it was a good way to get to know the neighbourhood.’
‘Did you make it to the beach?’
‘Yep. Ran along the esplanade. It’s very different to the scenery I’m used to.’
It was about five kilometres to the beach so he’d already run ten kilometres this morning. While she was sleeping. She’d have felt like a sloth if she was capable of feeling anything other than lust.
‘A lot more beach, I’d imagine.’ Toowoomba was a regional inland city, well over a hundred kilometres to the nearest beach.
‘Yes.’ He laughed. ‘Are you a runner?’
It was Lola’s turn to laugh. ‘I’m more of a hit-and-miss yoga in the park kinda gal.’ If she was going to get hot, sweaty and breathless, she could think of much more satisfying ways to do it. Preferably naked.
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