How to handle a powerful attraction...

Get it out of your system quickly!

In this Nurses in the City story, Lola Fraser knows better than to fall for her best friend’s brother, paramedic Hamish Gibson. Living together while he’s training could get awkward—fast! But as they work together on a heartrending case, they can’t resist the temptation to take their minds off work. Surely one night will be enough...until they discover it isn’t!

AMY ANDREWS is a multi-award-winning, USA TODAY bestselling Australian author who has written over fifty contemporary romances in both the traditional and digital markets. She loves good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel—preferably all four together. To keep up with her latest releases, news, competitions and giveaways, sign up for her newsletter—amyandrews.com.au/newsletter.html.

Also by Amy Andrews

One Night She Would Never ForgetGold Coast Angels: How to Resist Temptation200 Harley Street: The Tortured HeroIt Happened One Night ShiftSwept Away by the Seductive StrangerA Christmas Miracle

Nurses in the City collection

Reunited with Her Brooding Surgeon by Emily Forbes Tempted by Mr Off-Limits

Available now

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Tempted by Mr Off-Limits

Amy Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07536-7

TEMPTED BY MR OFF-LIMITS

© 2018 Amy Andrews

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I dedicate this book to my brother-in-law

Ron MacMaster, a great husband and father

who was taken too young.

You are greatly missed.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

LOLA FRASER NEEDED a drink in the worse way. Thank God for Billi’s, the bar across the road from the Kirribilli General Hospital. The ice-blue neon of the welcome sign filled her with relief—she didn’t think she could wait until she got home to Manly and it was less than a thirty-minute drive at nine-thirty on a Sunday night.

The place was jumping. There was some music playing on the old-fashioned jukebox but it wasn’t too loud. Most of the noise was coming from a large group of people Lola recognised as belonging to the Herd Across the Harbour event. It had taken place earlier today and they were all clearly celebrating the success of the fundraising venture.

Grace, Lola’s bestie and flatmate, was the renal transplant co-ordinator for the hospital and had been one of the organisers. In fact, her entire family had been heavily involved. Lola had also been roped in to help out this morning before her afternoon shift, and although she’d gratefully escaped horses, cows and, well...anything country a long time ago, there had been something magnificent about all those cattle walking over the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Talk about a contrast—one of the world’s most iconic architectural landmarks overrun by large, hooved beasts. It had certainly made a splash on news services all around the world. Not to mention the pile of money it had raised for dialysis machines for rural and remote hospitals. And then there was the exposure it had given to the Australian Organ Donor Register and the importance of talking with family about your wishes.

A conversation Lola wished her patient tonight had taken the time to have with his family. Maybe, out of his tragic death, some other families could have started living again.

And she was back to needing a drink.

She moved down the bar, away from the happy crowd. Their noise was good—celebratory and distracting—but she couldn’t really relate to that right now.

Gary, a big bear of a man, took one look at her and said, ‘You okay?’

Lola shook her head, a sudden rush of emotion thickening her throat. Gary had been running the bar over the road for a lot of years now and knew all the Kirribilli staff who frequented his establishment. He also knew, in that freaky bartender way, if a shift hadn’t gone so well.

‘Whaddya need?’

‘Big, big glass of wine.’

He didn’t bat an eyelid at her request. ‘Your car in the multi-storey?’

Lola nodded. ‘I’ll get a cab home.’ She had another afternoon shift tomorrow so she’d get a cab to work and drive her car home tomorrow night.

Within thirty seconds, Gary placed a chilled glass of white wine in front of her. It was over the standard drink line clearly marked on the glass. Well over.

‘Let me know when you want a refill.’

Lola gave him a grateful smile. She loved it that Gary already knew this was a more-than-one-glass-of-wine night. ‘Thanks.’

Raising the glass to her lips, Lola took three huge swallows and shut her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the last few hours. Working in Intensive Care was the most rewarding work she’d done in the thirty years of her life. People came to them desperately ill and mostly they got better and went home. And that was such an incredible process to be a part of.

But not everyone was so lucky.

For the most part, Lola coped with the flip side. She’d learned how to compartmentalise the tragedies and knew the importance of debriefing with colleagues. She also knew that sometimes you weren’t ready to talk about it. And for that there was booze, really loud music and streaming movies.

Sometimes sex.

And she had no problems with using any of them for their temporary amnesiac qualities.

Lola took another gulp of her wine but limited it to just the one this time.

‘Now, what’s a gorgeous woman like you doing sitting at a bar all by yourself?’

Lola smiled at the low voice behind her, and the fine blonde hairs at her nape that had escaped the loose low plait stood to attention. ‘Hamish.’

Hamish Gibson laughed softly and easily as he plonked himself down on the chair beside her. Her heart fluttered a little as it has this morning when she’d first met him on the Harbour Bridge. He was tall and broad and good looking. And he knew it.

Patently up for some recreational sex.

But he was also Grace’s brother and staying at their apartment for the night. So it would be wrong to jump his bones.

Right?

She could have a drink with him, though, and he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. ‘Let me buy you a drink,’ she said.

He grinned that lovely easy grin she’d been so taken with this morning. She’d bet he killed the ladies back home with that grin. That mouth.

‘Isn’t that supposed to be my line?’

‘You’re in the big smoke now,’ she teased. ‘We Sydney women tend to be kinda forthright. Got a problem with that?’

‘Absolutely none. I love forthright women.’ He gestured to Gary and ordered a beer. ‘And for you?’

Lola lifted her still quite full glass. ‘I’m good.’ She took another big swig.

Hamish’s keen blue eyes narrowed a little. ‘Bad shift?’

‘I’ve had better.’

He nodded. Hamish was a paramedic so Lola was certain she didn’t have to explain her current state of mind. ‘You wanna talk about it?’

‘Nope.’ Another gulp of her wine.

‘You wanna get drunk?’

‘Nope. Just a little distracted.’

He grinned again and things a little lower than Lola’s heart fluttered this time. ‘I give good distraction.’

Lola laughed. ‘You are good distraction.’

‘And you are good for my ego, Lola Fraser.’

‘Yeah. I can tell your ego is badly in need of resuscitation.’

He threw back his head and laughed and Lola followed the very masculine line of his throat etched with five o’clock shadow to a jaw so square he could have been a cartoon superhero. Was it wrong she wanted to lick him there?

Gary placed Hamish’s beer on the bar in front of him and he picked it up. ‘What shall we drink to?’

Lola smiled. ‘Crappy shifts?’

‘Here’s to crappy shifts.’ He tapped his glass against the rim of hers. ‘And distractions.’

* * *

They were home by eleven. Lola had drunk another—standard—glass of wine and Hamish had sat on his beer. They’d chatted about the Herd Across the Harbour event and cattle and he’d made her laugh about his hometown of Toowoomba and some of the incidents he’d gone to as a paramedic. He was a great distraction in every sense of the word but when she’d started to yawn he’d insisted on driving them home and she’d directed.

But now they were here, Lola wasn’t feeling tired. In fact, she dreaded going to bed. She wasn’t drunk enough to switch off her brain—only pleasantly buzzed—and sex with Hamish was out of the question.

Completely off-limits.

‘You fancy another drink?’ She headed through to the kitchen and made a beeline for the fridge. She ignored the three postcards attached with magnets to the door. They were from her Aunty May’s most recent travels—India, Vietnam and South Korea. Normally they made her smile but tonight they made her feel restless.

She was off to Zimbabwe for a month next April. It couldn’t come soon enough.

‘Ah...sure. Okay.’

He didn’t sound very sure. ‘Past your bedtime?’ she teased as she pulled a bottle of wine and a beer out of the fridge.

He smiled as he took the beer. His thick, wavy, nutmeg hair flopped down over his forehead and made her want to furrow her fingers in it. There were red-gold highlights in it that shone in the downlights and reminded Lola of Grace’s gorgeous red hair.

‘I’d have thought Grace would still be up.’

Lola snorted. ‘I’m sure she is. Just not here. Did you forget she got engaged to Marcus today?’

‘No.’ He grinned. ‘I didn’t forget.’

‘Yes well...’ Lola poured her wine. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re probably celebrating. If you get my drift.’

The way his gaze strayed to her mouth left Lola in no doubt he did.

‘He’s a good guy, yeah?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Lola nodded. ‘They’re both hopelessly in love.’

Lola was surprised at the little pang that hit her square in the chest. She’d never yearned for a happily ever after—she liked being footloose and fancy-free. Why on earth would she suddenly feel like she was missing something?

She shook it away. It was just this night. This awful, awful night. ‘Let’s go out to the balcony.’

She didn’t wait for him to follow her or even check to see if he was—she could feel the weight of his gaze on her back. On her ass, actually, and she wished she was in something more glamorous than her navy work trousers and the pale blue pinstriped blouse with the hospital logo on the left pocket.

Lola leaned against the railing when she reached her destination, looking out over the parkland opposite, the night breeze cool as befitting August in Sydney. She could just detect the faint trace of the ocean—salt and sand—despite being miles from Manly Beach.

She loved that smell and inhaled it deeply, pulling it into her lungs, savouring it, grateful for nights like this. Grateful to be alive. And suddenly the view was blurring before her eyes and the faint echo of a thirteen-year-old girl’s cries wrapped fingers around Lola’s heart and squeezed.

Her patient tonight would never feel the sea breeze on his face again. His wife and two kids would probably never appreciate something as simple ever again.

‘Hey.’

She hadn’t heard Hamish approach and she quickly shut her eyes to stop the moisture becoming tears. But he lifted her chin with his finger and she opened them. She was conscious of the dampness on her lashes as she was drawn into his compelling blue gaze. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?’

His voice was low and Lola couldn’t stop staring at him. He was wearing one of those checked flannel shirts that was open at the throat and blue jeans, soft and faded from years of wear and tear. They fitted him in all the right places. He radiated warmth and smelled like beer and the salt and vinegar chips they’d eaten at the bar, and she wanted to talk about it.

Who knew, maybe it would help? Maybe talking with a guy who’d probably seen his fair share of his own crappy shifts would be a relief. Lola turned back to the view across the darkened park. His hand fell away, but she was conscious of his nearness, of the way his arm brushed hers.

‘My patient... He was pronounced brain dead tonight. We switched him off. He had teenage kids and...’ She shrugged, shivering as the echo of grief played through her mind again. ‘It was...hard to watch.’

Her voice had turned husky and tears pricked again at the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away once more as he turned to his side, his hip against the railing, watching her.

‘Sorry...’ She dashed away a tear that had refused to be quelled. ‘I’m being melodramatic.’

He shrugged. ‘Some get to you more than others.’

The sentiment was simple but the level of understanding was anything but and something gave a little inside Lola at his response. There were no meaningless platitudes about tomorrow being another day or empty compliments about what an angel she must be. Hamish understood that sometimes a patient sneaked past the armour.

‘True but... Just ignore me.’ She shot him a watery smile.

‘I’m being stupid.’

He shook his head. ‘No, you’re not.’

Lola gave a half laugh, half snort. ‘Yes. I am. My tears aren’t important.’ This wasn’t about her. It was about a family who’d just lost everything. ‘This man’s death shouldn’t be about my grief. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.’

‘I think it’s called being human.’

He smiled at her with such gentleness and insight she really, really wanted to cry. But she didn’t, she turned blind eyes back to the view, her arm brushing his. Neither said anything for long moments as they sipped at their drinks.

‘Was it trauma?’ Hamish asked.

‘Car accident.’ Lola was glad to be switching from the emotion of the death to the more practical facts of it.

‘Did he donate his organs?’

Hamish and Grace’s sister-in-law, Merridy, had undergone a kidney transplant four years ago, so Lola knew the issue meant a lot to the Gibson family.

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Was he not a candidate?’

Lola could hear the frown in Hamish’s voice as she shook her head, a lump thickening her throat. What the hell was wrong with her tonight? She was usually excellent at shaking this stuff off.

‘He wasn’t on the register?’

The lump blossomed and pressed against Lola’s vocal cords. She cleared her throat. ‘He was but...’

Her sentence trailed off and she could see Hamish nod in her peripheral vision as realisation dawned. It was a relief not to have to say it. That Hamish knew the cold hard facts and she didn’t have to go into them or try and explain something that made no sense to most people.

‘I hate when that happens.’ Hamish’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing.

‘Me too.’

‘It’s wrong that family can override the patient in situations like that.’

She couldn’t agree more but the fact of the matter was that family always had the final say in these matters, regardless of the patient’s wishes.

‘Why can’t doctors just say, too bad, this was clearly your loved one’s intention when they put their name down on the donation register?’

Lola gave a half-smile, understanding the frustration but knowing it was never as simple as that. ‘Because we don’t believe in further traumatising people who are already in the middle of their worst nightmare.’

It was difficult to explain how her role as a nurse changed in situations of impending death. How her duty of care shifted—mentally anyway—from her patient to the family. In a weird way they became her responsibility too and trying to help ease them through such a terrible time in their lives—even just a little—became paramount.

They were going to have to live on, after all, and how the hospital process was managed had a significant bearing on how they coped with their grief.

‘Loved ones don’t say no out of spite or grief or even personal belief, Hamish. They say no because they’ve never had a conversation with that person about it. And if they’ve never specifically heard that person say they want their organs donated in the event of their death. They...’ Lola shrugged ‘...err on the side of caution.’

It was such a terrible time to have to make that kind of decision when people were grappling with so much already.

‘I know, I know.’ He sighed and he sounded as heavy-hearted as she’d felt when her patient’s wife had tearfully declined to give consent for organ donation.

‘Which is why things like Herd Across the Harbour are so important.’ Lola made an effort to drag them back from the dark abyss she’d been trying to step back from all night, turning slightly to face him, the railing almost at her waist. ‘Raising awareness about people having those kinds of conversations is vital. So they know and support the wishes of their nearest and dearest if it ever comes to an end-of-life situation.’

She raised her glass towards him and Hamish smiled and tapped his beer bottle against it. ‘Amen.’

They didn’t drink, though, they just stared at each other, the blue of his eyes as mesmerising in the night as the perfect symmetry of his jaw and cheekbones and the fullness of his mouth. They were close, their thighs almost brushing, their hands a whisper apart on the railing.

Lola was conscious of his heat and his solidness and the urge to put her head on his chest and just be held was surprisingly strong.

When was the last time she’d wanted to be just held by a man?

The need echoed in the sudden thickness of her blood and the stirring deep inside her belly, although neither of them felt particularly platonic. Confused by her feelings, she pushed up onto her tippy-toes and kissed him, trapping their drinks between them.

She shouldn’t have. She really shouldn’t have.

But, oh...it was lovely. The feel of his arms coming around her, the heat of his mouth, the swipe of his tongue. The quick rush of warmth to her breasts and belly and thighs. The funny bump of her heart in her chest.

The way he groaned her name against her mouth.

But she had to stop. ‘I’m sorry.’ She broke away and took a reluctant step back. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

His fingers on the railing covered hers. ‘Yeah,’ he whispered. ‘You absolutely should have.’

Lola gave him a half-smile, touched by his certainty but knowing it couldn’t go anywhere. She slipped her hand out from under his, smiled again then turned away, heading straight to her room and shutting out temptation.

CHAPTER TWO

BUT LOLA COULDN’T SLEEP. Not after finishing her glass of wine in bed or taking a bath or one of those all-natural sleeping tablets that usually did the trick. She lay awake staring at the ceiling, the events of the shift playing over and over in her head.

Her patient’s wife saying, ‘But there’s not a scratch on him...’ and his daughter crying, ‘No, Daddy!’ and his teenage son being all stoic and brave and looking so damn stricken it still clawed at her gut. The faces and the words turned around and around, a noisy wrenching jumble inside her head, while the oppressive weight of silence in the house practically deafened her.

She felt...alone...she realised. Damn it, she never felt alone. She was often here by herself overnight if Grace was at work or at Marcus’s and it had never bothered her before. She’d never felt alone in a city. But tonight she did.

It was because Hamish was out there. She knew that. Human company—male company—was lying on the couch and she was in here, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. And because it wouldn’t be the first time she’d turned to a man to forget a bad shift, her body was restless with confusion.

Was it healthy to sex away her worries? No. But it wasn’t a regular habit and it sure as hell helped from time to time.

Lola had no doubt Hamish would be up for it. He’d been flirting with her from the beginning and he’d certainly been all in when she’d kissed him on the balcony. The message in his eyes when she’d pulled away had been loud and clear.

If you want to take this to the bedroom, I’m your guy.

And if he hadn’t been Grace’s brother, she would have followed through. And not just because she needed the distraction but because there was something about Hamish Gibson that tugged at her. She’d felt it on the bridge this morning and at the bar.

It was no doubt to do with his empathy, with his innate understanding of what she’d witnessed tonight. She didn’t usually go for men who came from her world, particularly in these situations. Someone outside it—who didn’t know or care what she’d been through—was usually a much better distraction.

Someone who only cared about getting her naked.

Who knew familiarity and empathy could be so damn sexy? Who knew they could stroke right between your legs as well as clutch at your heart?

Lola rolled on her side and stuffed her hands between her thighs to quell the heat and annoying buzz of desire. Wasn’t going to happen. Hamish was Grace’s brother. And she couldn’t go there. No matter how much she needed the distraction. No matter how well he kissed. No matter the fire licking through her veins and roaring at the juncture of her legs.

Lola shut her eyes—tight.

Go to sleep, damn it.

* * *

At two o’clock in the morning, Lola gave up trying to fight it. Grace wasn’t here—she’d texted an hour ago to say she was staying at Marcus’s—and Hamish would be gone in the morning.

What could it hurt? As long as he knew it was a one-off?

Decision made, she kicked off the sheet and stood. She paused as she contemplated her attire, her underwear and a tank top. Should she dress in something else? Slip on one of her satiny scraps of lingerie that covered more but left absolutely nothing to the imagination? She’d been surprised to learn over the years that some guys preferred subtlety.

Or should she go out there buck naked?

What kind of guy was Hamish—satin and lace or bare flesh?

Oh, bloody hell. What was wrong with her? Had she lost her freaking mind? Hamish was probably just going to be grateful for her giving it up for him at two in the morning and smart enough to take it any way it was offered. She was going to be naked soon enough anyway.

Just get out there, Lola!

Quickly snatching a condom out of the box in her bedside drawer, she headed for her door, opened it and tiptoed down the darkened hallway. Ambient light from a variety of electrical appliances cast a faint glow into the living room and she could make out a large form on the couch. She came closer, stepping around the coffee table to avoid a collision with her shins, and the form became more defined.

He’d kicked off the sheet, which meant Lola could see a lot of bare skin—abs, legs, chest—and she looked her fill. A pair of black boxer briefs stopped her from seeing everything and his face was hidden by one bare arm thrown up over it. The roundness of his biceps as it pushed against his jaw was distracting as all giddy up.

As was the long stretch of his neck.

It was tempting to do something really crazy like run her fingers along that exposed, whiskery skin. Possibly her tongue.

But she needed to wake him first. She couldn’t just jump on him, no matter how temptingly he was lying there.

Lola clenched her fists, the sharp foil edges of the condom cutting into her palm as she took a step towards him. Her foot landed on the only squeaky floorboard in the entire room and he was awake in an instant. She froze as his abs tensed and his body furled upwards, his legs swinging over the edge of the couch. His feet had found the floor before she had a chance to take another breath.

He blinked up at her, running his palms absently up and down the length of his bare thighs. ‘Lola?’

Lola let out a shaky breath as she took a step back. ‘I guess it’s true what they say about country guys, then.’

‘Hung like horses?’ He shot her a sleepy smile. His voice was low and rumbly but alert.

She laughed and it was loud in the night. ‘Light sleepers.’

‘Oh, that.’ He rubbed his palm along his jawline and the scratchy noise went straight to her belly button. ‘Are you okay?’

Lola shook her head, her heart suddenly racing as she contemplated the width of his shoulders and the proposition she was about to lay on him. ‘I...can’t sleep.’

‘So you came out for...a cup of warm milk?’

The smile on his face matched the one in his voice, all playful and teasing, and Lola blushed. Her cheeks actually heated! What the hell?

Since when did she start blushing?

Most nurses she knew, including herself, were generally immune to embarrassment. She’d seen far too much stuff in her job to be embarrassed by anything.

‘No.’ She held up the condom, her fingers trembling slightly, grateful for the cover of night. ‘I was thinking of something more...physical.’

His gaze slid to the condom and Lola’s belly clenched as he contemplated the foil packet like it was the best damn thing he’d seen all night. ‘I have read,’ he said after a beat or two, refocusing on her face, ‘that physical activity is very good for promoting sleep.’

Lola’s nipples puckered at the slight emphasis on ‘physical activity’ and she swallowed against a mouth suddenly dry as the couch fabric. ‘Yeah.’ She smiled. ‘I read that too.’

He held out his hand. ‘Come here.’

Lola’s heart leapt in her chest but she ground her feet into the floor. They had to establish some ground rules. ‘This can only be a one-time thing.’

‘I know.’

His assurance grazed Lola’s body like a physical force, rubbing against all the good spots, but she needed to make certain he was absolutely on the same page. ‘You’re leaving tomorrow,’ she continued. ‘We’ll probably never see each other again.’ This was the first time she’d met Hamish after all, despite having lived with Grace for almost all the last two years. ‘And I’m good with that.’

‘Me too.’

‘I don’t do relationships. Especially not long-distance relationships.’

He nodded again. ‘I understand. We’re one and done. I am good with it, Lola.’

‘Also... I don’t think we should tell Grace about this.’

He sat back a little, clearly startled at the suggestion, looking slightly askance. ‘Do I look like I took a stupid pill to you?’

Lola laughed. He looked like he’d taken an up-for-it pill and heat wound through her abdomen. Hamish leaned forward at the hips and crooked his finger, a small smile playing on his wicked mouth.

‘Come here, Lola.’

The way he said her name when he was mostly naked was like fingers stroking down her belly. Lola took a small step forward, her entire body trembling with anticipation. She took another and then she was standing in front of him, the outsides of her thighs just skimming the insides of his knees.

He held his hand out and she placed the condom in his palm. He promptly shoved it under a cushion before sliding his hands onto the sides of her thighs. Lola’s breath hitched as they slid all the way up and the muscles in her stomach jumped as they slid under the hem of her T-shirt, pushing it up a little.

Leaning closer, he brushed his mouth against the bare skin, his lips touching down just under her belly button. Lola’s mouth parted on a soft gasp and her hands found his shoulders as their gazes locked. One hand kept travelling, pushing into the thick wavy locks of his hair, holding him there as they stared at each other, their breathing low and rough.

Then he fell back against the couch, pulling her with him, urging her legs apart so she was straddling him, the heat and pulse at her heart settling over the heat and hardness of him.

His hands slid into her hair, pulling her head down, his mouth seeking hers.

Her pulse thundered through her ears and throbbed between her legs and she moaned as their lips met. She couldn’t have stopped it even had she wanted to.

And she didn’t.

He swallowed it up, his mouth opening over hers, a faint trace of his toothpaste a cool undercurrent to all the heat. He kissed her slow but deep, wet and thorough, and Lola’s entire body tingled and yearned as she clutched at his shoulders from her dominant position, moaning and gasping against his mouth.

He was all she could think about. His mouth and his heat and the hardness between his legs. No work, no death, no stricken children, no disbelieving wives. Just Hamish, good and hard and hot and hers, filling her senses and her palms and the space between her thighs.

Lola barely registered falling or the softness of landing as his hands guided her backwards. But she did register the long naked stretch of him against her. The way his hips settled into the cradle of her pelvis, the way his erection notched along the seam of her sex, the way his body pressed her hard and good into the cushions.

He was dominating her now and she loved it. Wanted more. Needed more. His skin sliding over hers. His body sliding into hers. It was as if he could read her mind. His hands pushing her shirt up, gliding over her stomach and ribs and breasts, pulling it off over her head before returning to her breasts, squeezing and kneading, pinching her nipples, his mouth coming back hard and hot on hers, kissing and kissing and kissing until she was dizzy with the magic of his mouth, clawing at his back and gasping her pleasure.

He kissed down her neck and traced the lines of her collar bones with the tip of his tongue before lapping it over her sternum and circling her nipples, sucking each one into his mouth making her cry out, making her mutter, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ in some kind of incoherent jumble. And he kept doing it, licking and sucking as his hands pushed at her underwear and hers pushed at his until they were both free of barriers.

He broke away, tearing the foil open and rolling the condom on, then he was back and she almost lost her breath at the thickness of his erection sliding between her legs. He was big and hard, gliding through her slickness, finding her entrance and settling briefly.

‘You feel so good,’ he muttered, before easing inside her, slowly at first then pushing home on a groan that stirred the cells in her marrow and lit the wick on her arousal.

She flared like a torch in the night, insane with wanting him, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anybody before, panting her need straight into his ear, ‘God yes, like that,’ revelling in the thickness of him, the way he stretched her, the way he filled her. ‘Just like that...’

And he gave it to her like that and more, rocking and pounding, kissing her again, swallowing her moans and her cries and her pants, smothering them with his own as he thrust in and pulled out, a slow steady stroke, the rhythm of his hips setting the rhythm in her blood and the sizzle in her cells. Electricity buzzed from the base of her spine to the arch of her neck.

Her mind was blank of everything but the heat and the thrust and the feel of him. The prison of his strong, rounded biceps either side of her and the broad, naked cage of his chest pinning her to the couch and the piston of his hard, narrow hips nailing her into the cushions. And the smell of him, hot and male and aroused, filling up her head, making her nostrils flare with the wild mix of toothpaste and testosterone.

Lola gasped, tearing her mouth from his as her orgasm burst around her, starting in her toes, curling them tight before rolling north, undulating through her calves and her knees and her thighs, exploding between her legs and imploding inside her belly, breaking over her in waves of ever-increasing intensity until all she could do was hold on and cry out ‘Hamish!’ as it took her.

‘I know.’ He panted into her neck, his breathing hot and heavy, his body trembling like hers. ‘I know.’ He reared above her, thrusting hard one last time, his back bowed, his fists ground into the cushions either side of her head. ‘Lola-a-a-a...’

He came hard, his release bellowing out of him as his hips took over again and he rocked and rocked and rocked her, pushing her orgasm higher and higher and higher, taking her with him all the way to top until they were both spent, panting and clinging and falling back to earth in a messy heap of limbs and satisfaction.

Lola hadn’t even realised she’d drifted off to sleep when Hamish moved away and she muttered something in protest. He hushed her as she drifted again. Somewhere in the drunken quagmire of her brain she thought she should get up and leave, but it was nice here in the afterglow.

Too nice to move.

Hell, a normal woman would have dragged him back to her bed. It was bigger with a lot more potential for further nocturnal activity of the carnal kind. But then he was back and he was shuffling in behind her, his heavy arm dragging her close as he spooned her and she could barely open her eyes let alone co-ordinate her brain and limbs to make a move.

She was finally in a place where there was nothing on her mind and she liked it there.

She liked it very, very much.

CHAPTER THREE

Three months later...

HAMISH WASN’T SURE how he was going to be greeted by Lola as he stood in front of her door. Sure, they’d spoken in the last few weeks since Grace had arranged for him to live with Lola for the next two months while he did his urban intensive care rotation, but they hadn’t seen each other since that night.

And he still wasn’t sure this was the wisest idea.

He’d assured Lola that he could find somewhere else. Had stressed that she shouldn’t let Grace steamroller her into sharing her home with him because his sister felt guilty about her snap decision to finally move in with Marcus. It was true, someone paying the rent for the next eight weeks would give Lola time and breathing space to find the right roomie rather than just a roomie, but Grace wasn’t aware of their history.

Unless Lola had told Grace. But he didn’t think his sister would be so keen on this proposed temporary arrangement if that had been the case. Neither did he think for a single second that he wouldn’t have heard from her about it if she did know.

Lola had assured him she hadn’t felt backed into a corner and it made perfect sense for him to live with her temporarily. It would help her out and their apartment was conveniently located for him.

Perfect sense.

Except for their chemistry. And for the number of times he’d thought about her these past three months. He’d told her it had been unforgettable and that had proved to be frustratingly true. How often had he thought about ringing her? Or sending her flirty texts? Not to mention how often he’d dreamed about her.

About what they’d done. And the things he still wanted to do.

Things that woke him in the middle of the night with her scent in his nostrils and a raging erection that never seemed satisfied with his hand. He shut his eyes against the movie reel of images.

Just roomies.

That’s what she’d insisted on when they’d spoken about the possibility of this. Insisted that what had happened between them was in the past and they weren’t going to speak of it again. They definitely weren’t going to act on it again.

Just roomies. That was the deal-breaker, she’d said.

And he’d agreed. After all, it hadn’t seemed too difficult over a thousand kilometres away. But standing in front of her door like this, the reality of her looming, was an entirely different prospect. He felt like a nervous teenager, which was utterly idiotic.

Where was the country guy who could rope a cow, ride a horse, mend a fence and fix just about any engine? Where was the paramedic who could do CPR for an hour, stabilise a trauma victim in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain, smash a window or rip off a door and insert an IV practically hanging upside down like a bat in the shell of car crashed halfway down a mountain?

That’s who he was. So he could share a home, in a purely platonic way, with a woman he was hot for.

Because he was a grown man, damn it!

Hamish knocked quickly before he stood any longer staring at the door like he’d lost his mind. His hand shook and his pulse spiked as the sound of her footsteps drew nearer.

The door opened abruptly and Lola stood there in her uniform. He wondered absently if she was going to or coming from work as his body registered more basic details. Like her gorgeous green eyes and the blonde curls pulled back into a loose plait at her nape, just as it had been that night at Billi’s.

Suddenly he was back there again, remembering how much she’d touched him that night. Emotionally. How much he’d wanted to comfort her. To ease the burden so clearly weighing heavily on her shoulders.

To make her smile.

She smiled at him now and he blinked and came back to the present. It was the kind of smile she’d given him when she’d first met him on the harbour bridge that morning—friendly and open. The kind of smile reserved for a best friend’s brother or a new roomie. Like they were buddies. Mates.

Like he’d never been inside her body.

She’d obviously put what had happened between them behind her. Way, way behind her.

‘Hey, you.’ She leaned forward, rising on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

Like a sister.

It was such an exaggeratedly platonic kiss but his body tensed in recognition anyway. She was soft and warm and smelled exactly like he remembered, and he fought the urge to turn his head and kiss her properly.

She pulled back and smiled another friendly smile and he forced himself to relax. Forced himself to lounge lazily in the doorway and pretend he didn’t want to be inside her again. Right now. Because he really, really did.

This is what you agreed to, dumbass.

‘That all you got?’ She tipped her chin at his battered-looking duffel bag.

Hamish glanced down, pleased to have some other direction to look. ‘Should I have more?’ She didn’t seem impressed by his ninja packing skills.

She tutted and shook her head. ‘After two months in the city you’ll need that for your skin products alone.’

Laughter danced in her eyes and Hamish was impressed with her ability to act like nothing had happened between them while he felt stripped bare. Lola Fraser was as cool as a cucumber.

‘I’ll have you all metrosexual before you know it.’

Hamish laughed. Was that what she liked in a man? A guy who spent more time in front of the mirror than she did? Who used skin care products and waxed places that he wouldn’t let hot wax anywhere near? ‘Thanks. I’m happy with the way I am.’

And so were you. He suppressed the urge to give voice to the thought. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d been anything other than a port in a storm for Lola. A convenient distraction. He’d known full well what he’d been agreeing to that night.

Hell, he’d been more than happy to be used.

‘Ah I see. You can take the boy out of the country—’

‘But not the country out of the boy.’ He laughed again as he finished the saying.

She grinned and said, ‘We’ll see,’ then stood aside. ‘Come on in.’

Hamish picked up his duffel bag and followed her inside. Lola gave him a quick tour even though he was familiar with the layout from that night three months ago and nothing appeared to have changed.

The couch was definitely the same. He had no idea how he was going to sit on it with her without some seriously sexy flashbacks.

‘And this is Grace’s room.’ Lola walked past a shut door on the opposite side of the short hallway, which Hamish assumed was Lola’s room. ‘She moved out a couple of days ago.’

Hamish hadn’t been in his sister’s bedroom when he’d last been here. He hadn’t been in Lola’s either. Not that that had stopped them...

‘Make yourself at home.’ She swept her arm around to indicate the space. ‘It’s a good size with big built-in cupboards and several power points if you want a TV or something in here.’

Hamish looked around. Grace had left her bed for him and the bedside tables. Everything was ruthlessly clean as per his sister’s ways. They could have taken an appendix out on the stripped mattress. Although now they were both in the room together with a massive bed dominating the space, other things they could do on the mattress came to mind.

Lola was staring at it too as if she was just realising the level of temptation it represented. ‘There are sheets, pillows, blankets, etcetera in the linen cupboard in the hallway.’

‘Thanks.’ Hamish threw his bag on the bed to fill up the acres of space staring back at them. And to stop himself from throwing her on it instead.

The action seemed to snap Lola out of her fixation. ‘And that’s it.’ She turned. ‘Tour over.’

Once again Hamish followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she grabbed her bag and keys off the counter top. ‘I’m sorry, I have to run now or I’ll be late for work. I couldn’t swap the shift.’

She didn’t sound that sorry. In fact, she was jingling the keys like she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

‘It’s fine.’

A part of him had assumed she’d be home this weekend to help him get settled. Which was ridiculous. He was a thirty-year-old man living in one of the world’s most exciting cities—he didn’t need to have his hand held.

And Lola was a shift worker, just like him. With bills to pay and a twenty-four-hour roster she helped to fill, including Saturdays. She had her own life that didn’t involve pandering to her friend’s brother.

‘I’m sure I can occupy myself. What time do you finish?’

She fished in her bag and pulled out her sunglasses, opening the arms and perching them on the top of her head. ‘I’m on till nine-thirty tonight. I should be home by ten, providing everything is calm at work.’

‘Cool.’

‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. There’s a supermarket three blocks away, if you’re looking for something in particular. Grace and I usually shopped together and split the bill but we can discuss those details tomorrow.’

Hamish nodded. ‘I’m having dinner with Grace and Marcus tonight actually. At their new apartment. So we’ll probably be getting in around the same time.’

‘Oh...right.’ She glanced away and Hamish wondered if she was remembering the last time they’d been here together at night. She had some colour in her cheeks when her gaze met his again. ‘Don’t feel like you have to be home for me. If you want to have a few drinks and end up crashing at theirs, that’s fine. I’m often here by myself, it doesn’t bother me.’

Hamish didn’t think anything much bothered Lola. There was a streak of independence about her that grabbed him by his country-boy balls. But he knew that under all that Independent Woman of the World crust was someone who could break like a little girl and he really hoped she didn’t feel the need to pretend to be tough all the time to compensate for how vulnerable she’d been the last time they’d met.

That would be an exhausting eight weeks for her.

And he just wanted Lola to be Lola. He could handle whatever she threw at him.

‘And miss my first night in my new home?’ He smiled at her to keep it light. ‘No way.’

‘Okay, well...’ She nodded. ‘I’ll...see you later.’

She turned and walked away, choosing the longer route rather than brush past him—interesting—and within seconds he was listening to the quiet click of the front door as it shut.

Well...that was an anti-climax. He’d been building this meeting up in his head for weeks. None of the scenarios had involved Lola bolting within twenty minutes of his arrival. Still, it had been good, seeing her again. And she had definitely avoided any chance that they might come into contact as she’d left.

That had to mean something, right?

Hamish rolled his eyes as he realised where his brain was heading. Get a grip, idiot. Not going to happen.

And he went to unpack and make up his bed.

* * *

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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