chapter SIX
A WEEK later Mia was examining a severe case of cellulitis around a ten-day-old calf laceration when Luca entered the cubicle. He smiled at her and her breath hitched.
‘Can I help you, Dr di Angelo?’
‘You don’t happen to have an otoscope by any chance? They all seem to have gone walking.’
Mia didn’t register his words. Just the way his eyes crinkled at the edges as he looked at her with a gaze that paid way too much attention to the dip of her cleavage. And the way his lips moved, all soft and full, exactly the same as when they stroked down her neck.
Luca quirked an eyebrow as Mia’s normally clear blue gaze became a little heated. ‘Mia?’
She blinked and her cheeks warmed as she realised she had no idea what he’d asked for. ‘Sorry?’
Luca grinned. It wasn’t often he saw her blush and he liked it. It seemed completely at odds with her feisty, my-way-or-the-highway demeanour, softening her. Cranking up the strong sense of attraction another notch. ‘Otoscope?’
‘Oh. Yes.’ she shook her head to clear it as she removed the equipment from the pocket she’d jammed it in earlier. ‘Here.’
Their fingers brushed as he took it and Luca smiled again as he felt the pulse of awareness in his fingertips and knew she’d felt it too. ‘Thank you.’
It took Mia a few seconds to realise he’d disappeared as her body recovered from just the faintest contact with his.
‘He’s a bit of a hottie, dear.’
Mia looked down absently at Mable Richardson, her eighty-six-year-old patient. She had snowy white hair and a wicked gleam in her eyes.
‘He could park his slippers under my bed any day.’ Mable sighed. ‘If I was only forty years younger …’
Mia stared at her patient open-mouthed, shocked by such ribald frankness from an octogenarian.
Mable cackled. ‘I’m old, deary, not dead.’
Mia laughed. From the twinkle in her eyes, Mable was obviously one of those lovely old ladies who loved to shock.
‘Laugh all you want.’ Mable patted Mia’s hand. ‘You blink one day and suddenly you’re eighty-six. Mark my words, young lady—take your opportunities when you get them.’ And then she winked.
‘Mable, you’re incorrigible.’
Mable cackled again, seemingly delighted by Mia’s description. ‘I hope so, deary.’
Mia returned her attention to Mable’s gardening wound, which had developed an infection in the subcutaneous tissues. Had Mable seen something pass between her and Luca—something intangible—that had prompted such an observation, or was she just someone who appreciated good eye candy when she saw it?
Not for the first time she wondered what the hell she and Luca were doing. Okay, there’d been no more liaisons since the party and they’d only been together a few times anyway. But it was a few times more than she’d ever allowed any other man. And, if his rep was accurate, the same applied to him.
Why did this man, Luca di Angelo of all men, have this … pull, this sway over her?
No.
Mia smiled absently at Mable as she pulled the gurney rail up decisively and excused herself to arrange for Mable’s admission for several days of intravenous antibiotics.
She wasn’t going to analyse what had gone on.
She wasn’t going to give it any importance by pontificating over it.
They were attracted to each other. They’d had a good time. And that was that.
Period.
A couple of hours later the red emergency phone rang and Luca picked it up. He scribbled notes as he listened to the ambulance comms officer on the other end.
Mia and Evie looked at him as he hung up and Mia quirked an eyebrow. ‘Multiple casualties, first five minutes out, from the Douglas army base. Some sort of an explosion. Two critical. One with penetrating chest trauma, the other with a partially severed leg.’
Caroline, on triage, appeared at his elbow and said, ‘On it.’
Luca thanked her. ‘I’ll page Finn,’ he said.
Then everyone scattered to do their jobs, ensuring the trauma bays were fully stocked for the incoming wounded and other departments alerted, including Pathology, Radiology and the operating theatres. Luckily it was Sunday when demand for these services was reduced.
Finn, in his standard surgical uniform of blue scrubs, arrived just as the first ambulance was pulling in.
‘You take the chest trauma,’ Luca said to his colleague, donning a yellow paper gown. ‘I’ll take the leg.’
Finn nodded, accepting a gown from Evie and quickly securing it before snapping disposable gloves into place.
‘Evie, you go with Finn. Mia, you’re with me.’
Finn opened his mouth to protest but Mia and Luca had already split off and ultimately it didn’t matter who worked with him as long as they were competent. And, as reluctant as he had been to believe it, Princess Evie knew her stuff.
‘You ready for this?’ he demanded as the paramedic opened the back door.
Evie nodded, determined not to show him how much his enquiry rankled. ‘Of course.’ She gave him a serene smile to hide her gritted teeth.
A cry of pain, like that of a wounded animal, penetrated Finn’s cynicism and tore his attention away to the soldier on the gurney, his dusty boots and army fatigues eerily familiar.
It took him back a lot of years.
He knew all about cries like that. Had heard them too often to forget. Had held Isaac, rocked him, as the yelling had quietened and finally abated, leaving only silence as the life had drained from his brother’s trusting eyes.
‘Twenty-eighty-year-old sergeant, bomb disposal officer at Douglas, took the full impact of an explosive device. Safety gear rendered some protection.’
Finn shook his head and blinked as the rapid-fire handover spat out at him like the rat-a-tat of a machine gun. He couldn’t think about Isaac. About a distant battlefield.
This soldier needed him.
But this soldier was about Isaac’s age and cried out in pain just like Isaac had.
Finn pushed it away, knocked it back as the gurney moved rapidly into the emergency department.
‘Matthew! Matthew!’ the soldier called, pulling the oxygen mask aside with bloodied hands.
The paramedic continued his handover above the soldier’s increasingly frantic cries. Evie listened intently while Finn stared at the young man’s bloody face.
‘Matty!’
‘Matthew is his brother,’ the paramedic informed Finn and Evie quietly as he helped transfer the soldier to the hospital gurney. ‘He’s the second soldier. With the … leg.’
Finn gave a grim nod as he looked at the blood-soaked combat shirt that had been cut away from the bleeding chest wound. Isaac had cried out for him, too. He could still hear the panic in his brother’s voice. Finn! Finn!
‘Matthew. Are you okay, Matthew?’
Finn moved in close to the soldier’s head while all around him nurses jumped into action. Tears had cut grimy streaks through his grisly war paint of dirt and blood.
‘Oxygen saturations eighty-nine, tachy at one fifty-nine,’ a nurse relayed.
Finn’s heart thundered in his chest as he fought back a tide of memories he’d thought he’d long ago buried deep. ‘What’s your name, Sergeant?’
Finn’s enquiry was quiet but held a note of authority not forgotten from his own time in the army. It seemed to settle the soldier’s agitation. He looked at Finn, his eyes filled with pain and emotional anguish.
‘Phillips, sir, Sergeant Damien Phillips.’ Damien grabbed Finn’s gown, yanking him close, jarring his already throbbing upper arm and neck. ‘Don’t let me die. I don’t want to die.’
Finn suddenly felt the weight of the promise he’d made to his brother all those years ago. It burned as fiercely on his conscience at this moment as it had that day sprawled in the dirt of a land far away. A promise he’d known, crippled by his own injuries and with help too many precious minutes away, he couldn’t keep.
A promise that had haunted him.
But he could make good on a promise to Damien. In this top-notch facility and with his top-notch skills.
And he’d be damned if he’d lose another soldier on his watch.
‘I won’t, Damien. I won’t.’
Evie looked at him sharply as a nurse passed her a chest tube. The soldier and Finn were practically nose to nose but, still, the husky promise surprised her. And not just because of the raw emotion she could hear in it.
Had Finn gone mad? Why on earth would he make such a promise? Damien’s injuries were extensive—no one could promise that. Not even someone with Finn’s legendary skill!
‘Blood pressure ninety systolic.’
Finn glanced at her and she sucked in a breath at the brief flash of anguish, like the sweep of a lighthouse beacon, she saw there. His piercing gaze clouded temporarily with something she couldn’t put her finger on—pain, compassion, loss?—then cleared as he stood abruptly.
‘Let’s get him prepped for Theatre,’ Finn ordered.
Two hours later, in the thick of the operating theatre after Finn had demanded she scrub in, Evie’s shoulders ached and her neck was stiff as they battled to plug the holes in Damien’s heart. They’d replaced his entire circulation with donated blood products twice over. And he was still bleeding.
No one was surprised when a life-threatening arrhythmia caused a sudden dangerous dip in his blood pressure.
But Finn didn’t give up.
He had the young soldier’s heart in his two bloodied hands and was squeezing it as if he could make the heart start beating again through sheer force of will.
He’d promised.
Too much death. Too many young men like Damien.
Like Isaac.
Damn it! He’d promised.
But as the downtime extended, even he could see the futility of it. Finn found it hard to breathe as he gently removed his hands from around the soldier’s heart and stepped back. He peeled off his gloves and glanced at the clock.
‘Time of death fifteen thirty-one.’
No one spoke as they watched Finn walk out of the theatre. But a little bit of Evie went with him.
An hour later after attending to all the legalities, Evie felt drained, totally strung out from the after-effects of adrenaline and their exhaustive yet futile efforts to save Sergeant Damien Phillips’s life.
Except it wasn’t over because she had to find Finn, who wasn’t answering his page. He had to sign some paperwork.
And she was worried about him …
Her fingers trembled as she pushed the change-room doors open. She needed to get out of these scrubs. They reminded her too much of the tragedy she’d just witnessed.
Of Finn’s hands squeezing Damien’s dying heart.
Her heart leapt in her chest as Finn came into view. He was sitting on the floor, staring at the wall, the lockers supporting his back. His knees were bent up and his hands were hanging between them, his surgical cap dangling from his fingers.
She swallowed. ‘I’ve been paging you.’
Finn heard her voice as if from far away. He didn’t want her there. He didn’t want her to look at him with those calm hazel eyes of hers, eyes that saw too much, and mouth some horrible cliché.
He wanted to go home, pour himself a Scotch. And then another one. Drink until he could be sure he wouldn’t dream about Isaac.
He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the wall. ‘I’ve been ignoring you.’
Evie stared at him, dismayed at the return of his churlish tone. She should have expected it but for some reason, after their frantic efforts with Damien and the shared horror of losing him, she’d thought it’d be different.
He’d be different.
Irritated, she sauntered over to the patch of wall he was fixated on and deliberately parked her butt on it. Now he had no choice but to look at her. She folded her arms.
‘There’s some paperwork for the coroner you need to sign out in the office.’
Finn flicked his gaze up to her determined face. ‘Fine.’
They stared at each other for a moment, the blue of Finn’s eyes even more pronounced against the blue of his scrubs. Evie battled the urge to debrief, as she would normally with a colleague who had shared such an emotionally intense situation. Even a churlish one. But everything about Finn said, Back off.
But, then, when hadn’t it?
‘Damien’s been taken to the morgue and—’
Finn pushed himself to his feet, interrupting her words. He bit down on a wince as a hot needle jabbed viciously into the nerves that ran down his right arm.
‘We’re not talking about Damien,’ he said, turning to his locker, his back deliberately to her.
Evie took in the expanse of his back in his scrubs as she reeled from the vehemence in his words.
But I want to talk about him. I had my hand in his chest too, felt his heart pulsating. I need to talk about him.
She pushed off the wall and took a tentative step towards him and even though she knew she was overstepping the line, she didn’t seem to be able to stop.
‘Finn.’
His back stayed stubbornly turned away. Evie stared at it and let out the breath she’d been holding. She waited for a moment and stepped closer. ‘Maybe it’d help … to talk about it?’ she murmured.
His silence was absolute and out of pure frustration she tentatively placed her hand on his left shoulder. Despite the flinch she felt right down to her soul, Mia kept it there. His muscles were knotted with tension, practically vibrating beneath her hand, and she moved closer again until her body was almost touching his.
Finn shut his eyes as her scent and her warmth enveloped him. He could sense her right there behind him. Could hear the soft huff of her breath and the empathy oozing from every pore. A part of him wanted to unburden so badly it was shocking in its intensity.
Would it hurt to lean back a little, to have just a moment today that made sense?
Even if it didn’t?
Evie held her breath as his body swayed a little and then seemed to slowly relax back against hers. His scrubs felt warm on her skin and she could sense the vitality of him as they stood in silence, cradled against each other, her cheek brushing his shoulder blade.
It was a magical moment and she shut her eyes to absorb every second. Everything suddenly seemed … right. Evie felt safe. She felt understood.
‘You were brilliant today,’ he whispered.
Evie eyes fluttered open at the barely discernible words. Had he said it or had she only imagined it? She opened her mouth to return the compliment but a beeping pager shattered the intimacy.
Finn’s eyes opened instantly. His surroundings came into sharp focus, the feel of Evie pressed against him suddenly too, too close for comfort.
What the hell was he doing?
He shrugged her away. ‘I have to go,’ he said gruff ly.
Evie stepped back from him, reeling from the quick severing of the fragile emotional connection they’d just made.
He didn’t even look back as he departed.
Mia headed straight for Pete’s Bar after work later that evening. It had been a harrowing day for all of them, with Evie seeming particularly stressed when she’d finally returned to the department. They’d arranged to meet for a drink and a bit of a debrief session. Her friend was obviously taking the soldier’s death hard.
Evie, however, was nowhere to be seen amidst the surprising Sunday night crowd as Mia made her way to the bar.
Luca, on the other hand, was easily spotted by her specially tuned senses and even if she’d been able to resist his devilish smile, she couldn’t resist his I’ve-been-waiting-for-you stare.
Luca slid over as Mia approached, a sense of inevitability taking hold. What was it about this woman that made him want more? Her complete lack of sexual inhibitions or was she just a novelty, something familiar for a change instead of just another pick-up?
Or maybe it was her emotional unavailability? Knowing that she wanted the same thing he did—no commitments, nothing but a good time.
He watched the tame swish of her ponytail as she came closer, knowing what that hair looked like loose and wild and knowing from the heat in her gaze that tonight was going to get very wild indeed.
Mia refused to look at Luca as she slid in beside him. She didn’t want to alert the two other occupants to what was going on between them. She and Luca were sex—just sex—and she didn’t want the others to get the wrong impression.
She greeted Charlie Maxwell, the orthopaedic surgeon who had operated on the partially severed leg earlier, and Carl Todd, the anaesthetist. They were chatting about the bomb blast at Douglas and the two operations that had followed.
‘He’s not out of the woods yet,’ Charlie said, taking a mouthful of his cola. He was on call and could well be called back to amputate the leg. ‘We managed to save it but I’m not entirely convinced it’ll be viable in the long term. There was extensive blood loss and a lengthy ischaemic time.’
Mia was always surprised whenever Charlie was serious. The lovable, laid-back, ex-pro surfer with his shaved head and wicked sense of humour gave new meaning to the Aussie word ‘larrikin’. It was hard to tell at first glance that beneath it all he was a dedicated and committed professional.
‘The trip from the army barracks isn’t exactly short,’ Mia mused. They were the nearest tertiary hospital to the barracks but in a situation where every second was vital, it was just a little too far away.
‘Absolutely,’ Charlie agreed. ‘You guys did a great job getting him to me as quickly as you could.’
They chatted about the procedure for a while and Mia was pleased to hear that the patient was still stable in ICU with good pulses when Charlie rang to get an update.
Working on saving the leg today with Luca had been an exhilarating experience, and it was good to know that their efforts had contributed to the thus far positive operative outcome.
She glanced at Luca and felt her breath hitch as he chose that moment to glance at her. Heat surged up the side seam of her jeans where their legs touched. Under the table, his hand slid onto her thigh.
She felt her breath seize in her lungs. But, as his fingers started to smooth the fabric of her jeans in light patterns, she didn’t remove it.
‘Well, at least you had better luck than Finn,’ Carl commented, dragging Mia’s attention back to the conversation. He inclined his head to indicate the man in question, who was sitting at the bar by himself, staring into his Scotch.
‘He worked like a demon, trying to save the other soldier. It was like he was possessed or something.’
Even knowing how much Carl liked to embellish things, Mia was startled by the anaesthetist’s description of the frantic efforts in Finn’s theatre that afternoon—no wonder Evie needed to debrief.
‘Evie’s pretty wrecked,’ Mia commented when Carl finished.
‘She’s in the wrong specialty. She’d make a great surgeon,’ Carl mused. ‘Kept her head no matter how testy Finn got.’
Mia glanced at Finn again just as Suzy plonked herself down in the chair next to him. The theatre nurse was a regular at Pete’s and Mia had seen her flirting with Finn here before, but a blind fool could see that Finn was not in the mood for company.
He gave her one of those polite frozen smiles she’d seen Finn give once too often to hapless medical students or to Eric Frobisher in particular, but Suzy seemed as oblivious or impervious to Finn’s signals as Eric did.
Luca’s signals, however, as his fingers continued to brush against her thigh, were loud and clear. Mia fought the urge to turn her body towards him, raise her mouth to his.
Carl looked over his shoulder again. ‘Well, well, well. Looks like Finn’s found a little distraction for the night.’
Mia just stopped the eye-roll. Carl was a top-class anaesthetist and still fancied himself as a bit of a ladies’ man but he obviously wasn’t a student of body language—he was way off the mark.
Luca winked at her. ‘Oh, you think so?’ he asked, watching an obviously distant Finn.
Carl took a swallow of his beer. ‘Oh, yes.’ He tapped his nose three times with his index finger. ‘I’ve been around long enough to tell when there’s hanky-panky going on between the staff.’
Luca felt Mia’s thigh tense beneath his palm and he grinned. ‘Really?’ he murmured as he resisted Mia’s sudden attempt to remove his hand from her thigh.
He easily won the necessarily subdued struggle.
Carl nodded. ‘Of course. I picked Luke and Lily long before anyone else did. And this bloke …’ he jerked his thumb towards Charlie. ‘… is virtually an open book.’
Charlie looked affronted. ‘Me? What about him?’ Charlie pointed to Luca. ‘His reputation preceded him.’
‘Ah, well.’ Carl laughed. ‘That’s true.’
Luca laughed good-naturedly. ‘And what about Mia?’ he enquired innocently, daring to stroke his fingers closer to the apex of her thighs. He didn’t even wince when his ankle suffered a short, sharp jab from a hard pointy toe. ‘Any gossip on her?’
Carl shook his head with a faux crestfallen look. ‘Oh, no. Mia informed me a long time ago that fooling around with someone from work was a recipe for disaster. I think they were the words, right, Mia?’
Mia nodded her head graciously. She’d told Carl that most emphatically one day just after he’d tried to come on to her. And she meant it as much now as she had then.
So why the hell was she sitting at a booth with an Italian devil who was practically bringing her to orgasm in front of two oblivious colleagues?
Surely Carl could see the pheromones wafting off her body?
‘What?’ Luca feigned shock, looking down into Mia’s face, gratified to see heat shimmering in her eyes like a mirage as his finger found her inner seam. He noticed her knuckles whiten as her grip on the edge of the table tightened. ‘There’s been no work flirtations?’
‘Oh, no,’ Carl answered for her. ‘As far as I can tell, there’s been no one. And I have a pretty good radar,’ he added, tapping his nose again and smiling at Mia.
Luca flicked a finger across the seam that ran down from the bottom of her zip where it joined the two inner thigh seams. He felt her resistance melt to nothing as her legs eased apart a little and he thought, Carl, you are a fool!
Mia knew she shouldn’t. They were in a public place, for crying out loud. A place that was crawling with staff from The Harbour. But his fingers were creating such delicious havoc … and no one could see …
She spread her legs a little further and smiled at Charlie as she changed the subject.
Evie was late to Pete’s but that was the nature of the job. A last-minute patient had kept her involved for a while, which had been fine by her. Becoming absorbed in her work had helped keep her mind off Finn and what had happened between them today.
Because, whether he liked it or not—whether she liked it or not—something had happened. She’d had a glimpse of his humanity and no matter how many patients she’d seen since, she just couldn’t banish that from her head.
And that brief moment when he’d leaned into her … It had felt like some kind of … surrender.
She’d never seen Finn emotionally vulnerable but today had been different. Today he’d leaned on her. Actually let himself go for once and trusted her enough to drop the cantankerous-but-brilliant-surgeon facade and just be a doctor who’d lost a patient. Be human. Be a man.
She could still feel the imprint of him against her. The flat of his shoulder blade against her cheek, the warm, solid roundness of his shoulder beneath her palm, the press of his broad back against her chest, their hearts beating almost as one.
She wasn’t stupid enough to read anything into it. But she was intrigued. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know what had happened in his past to make Damien’s case so personal to Finn. So personal that he’d let his guard down to her, of all people. Let her touch him. Let himself touch her back.
You were brilliant today, Evie.
Those words had meant more to her than any compliment she’d ever received-professional or personal. She hugged them to herself as she crossed the road to Pete’s.
If Finn was at Pete’s, she was going to repay the compliment. She was going to buy him a drink, tell him he was brilliant and badger him until he talked.
Staff at The Harbour always talked about what a maverick he was, what a legend. They held him in awe, hoisted him on high like some kind of trophy, made him untouchable. Like he was a machine, a robot. But they seemed to forget, underneath it all he was also a man.
But she hadn’t. She’d seen the man today.
And men needed to be touched too.
Finn probably most of all.
Finn wasn’t really listening to Suzy as she prattled on about some movie she’d just seen. He didn’t want her there, he didn’t want to talk or make light conversation.
He didn’t want to hook up. Even if Suzy was extremely attractive and obviously up for it.
He came to Pete’s for one reason only. To drink.
Sure, he could drink at home. And he’d do that too. But drinking a little in public tempered the urge to drink a lot when he got back to his apartment.
The Scotch helped with the pain from his injuries and it helped obliterate the events that had caused them.
Suzy couldn’t do that. No woman could. Not even Lydia.
And then Evie’s lovely face entered his vision and for one crazy moment panic rose in him as he thought he’d conjured her up. But then she pushed the heavy door open wider and their gazes met.
For a moment there was a shimmer of recognition between them, a whisper of what they’d both endured together, and then she smiled at him, a smile that seemed to see right inside him. A smile that said, I know you’re hurting; let me help you.
And for one mad instant he wanted that. He wanted to feel again what he’d felt that afternoon in the change room cocooned against her. That strange kind of peace—like nothing he’d ever known.
The panic intensified.
The sheer power of these strange, unwanted feelings Evie evoked overwhelmed him. He dragged his gaze away, his heart beating like that of a wild animal suddenly caged and fighting for his life. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know anything about him. How could she? Princess Evie couldn’t even begin to comprehend where he’d come from, the things he’d seen, the promises he’d broken.
He turned to Suzy and dazzled her with a smile. ‘Whaddya say we get out of here?’
Evie, her heart light as she spotted Finn, made a direct line for him. She stopped three paces later when she realised he wasn’t alone. The smile he gave the blonde, one she’d seen him with here before, took her breath away and she struggled with the sudden urge to turn on her heel and run.
Or slap someone. Back off!
But he wasn’t hers to make such an order. The realisation brought with it a sudden crushing sense of despair. Just because they’d shared a moment, that didn’t make him hers.
Finn smiled down at Suzy as she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Her cleavage was exposed to his view and he looked his fill.
It was an impressive cleavage and he was a man, damn it.
A man who appreciated a woman’s body but did not get emotionally involved with them. And the sooner Evie got that through her head, the better.
He wasn’t some wounded hero that needed saving. He was a cantankerous bastard beyond redemption.
‘C’mon,’ he said, sliding off the stool, putting his hand out to help Suzy off hers but looking directly over her head, meeting Evie’s shocked look with practised indifference. ‘Let’s go back to my place.’
Evie couldn’t move for a moment, the cold of Finn’s piercing gaze freezing her to the spot. He seemed totally unreachable as his eyes told her things he couldn’t say in a crowded bar.
Like, what happened this afternoon meant nothing.
You mean nothing.
Suzy smiled up at Finn, disconcerted to find he wasn’t looking at her. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
Finn dragged his gaze away from the emotions in Evie’s hazel eyes. There was hurt and disgust and even a touch of scorn.
And he deserved every one of them.
He threw another dazzler Suzy’s way before tucking her hand in his, straightening his back and making a beeline for the door.
Evie watched him go, a veritable storm of emotions raging inside. Anger, repulsion, despair.
Where was the Finn from earlier? The one who had leaned into her and told her she was brilliant?
She looked back to find Pete watching her. He was holding up a cold beer and a shot glass and his gaze radiated warmth and sympathy.
Thank God for Pete.