Page 6 of One Night with the Doctor

And, oh Christ, not only had she been snippy but she’d flashed him!

Callie sat. So did he. ‘I’m sorry… I thought.’ She felt like a complete airhead. She should have paid more attention to the introductions at the bridge instead of mulling over what she’d been going to say to Noelene. ‘This morning. I thought you were a cop.’

Hell, it would have been much easier if he had been. She could have put him in a neat little box. Police officer. Off-limits. She did not sleep with cops. She did not trade hot looks or share silent vibes with them. She did not give them any encouragement at all.

Never.

Cops were off-limits. Her reputation was paramount and cops were, by and large, a great big boys’ club. And, as with a lot of boys, bragging often got the better of them. A close psychologist friend of hers had found that out the hard way and she had no desire to be the centre of grubby gossip.

Of course, work colleague should have sent up a big red flag as well. But slowly frying in the heat of his stare, it came a poor second.

He shook his head. ‘Afraid not.’ Then he grinned. Clearly he was enjoying this element of surprise. ‘I have experience in hostage negotiation. The police, like a lot of organisations, sometimes outsource. I’ve worked as a civilian negotiator for different police forces from time to time. The Queensland police were eager to have me.’

Of course. Because, revolutionising psychotherapy for prisoners and being a leading expert in PTSD obviously weren’t enough feathers in his cap!

He shrugged. ‘The pager rarely goes off.’

‘Lucky me,’ she murmured, dropping her gaze, desperate to break the incendiary connection.

This could not be happening! Why hadn’t she googled him when she’d found out he was coming to Jambalyn? She might have known what he looked like, then. And why in God’s name hadn’t she paid more attention today when he’d introduced himself?

Sure it was the bridge and the anniversary and her crashing need to get to Noelene, but still…

She’d really been looking forward to tonight. To meeting him and to working with him, but with his gaze prickling awareness across her skin she wasn’t so sure.

It felt dangerous. And she was no adrenaline junkie.

‘Speaking of which…’ Christopher Martell, another of Jambalyn’s psych nurses, butted into the conversation. ‘We heard you flashed every cop in Brisbane this morning. I think the news helicopters even got a gawk. You’re the talk of the town.’

Callie blushed and risked a look at Sebastian. His eyes told her that while he’d been determined to not play her game this morning and to keep his eyes up, his peripheral vision was twenty/twenty.

More than that – they told her he’d liked what he’d seen.

That he wanted to see more. It made Callie think about the secluded alley just outside which was dark and private and, most importantly – close.

And to hell with inhibitions and social mores.

She dragged her gaze from Sebastian and gave a careless shrug as she got her head back in the conversation. ‘You learn to get bolshie in this job.’

The conversation moved on and Sebastian let it flow around him. His new colleagues were articulate, expressive and dedicated. Chris, Magella, Cynthia and Callie were the nurses. Geri and Donald were social workers. Nell was the lawyer. Rodney was the receptionist.

They’d obviously been together for a while and could laugh and unwind – debrief – effectively. But more than that, they very clearly liked each other – respected each other – and he looked forward to working with them in the challenging setting of community-based mental health.

Even if it was only temporary.

It would certainly be a very welcome change of pace. Exactly what he craved after the day-to-day tensions and uncertainties of his last few gigs. Exactly what he needed before heading into the much more sedate world of private practice.

It was gratifying to see that none of them were too awed by his reputation, and he quickly slipped into a groove with all of them, except Callie. She was clearly distracted.

And distracting.

The way she talked and smiled as she indulged in banter with her friends was distracting. The way she dropped her head to one side as she listened and absently ran the silver pendant at her throat along its chain, was distracting.

And when she laughed? Very distracting.

Full and throaty as if it had come all the way from her toes, her eyes crinkling, her head tossing, her neck bared to view. Other diners looked around at her laughter and smiled.

And then there was the enticing shadow of that deep V neckline and the soft cling of fabric to her breasts. Breasts with which he already had a passing familiarity. And the way, when their gazes swept each other’s paths, like two opposing lighthouse signals, there was the merest pause before hers skittered away. But in that fraction of time, it was as if they were the only two people in the restaurant.