He reached up and gave one of her wayward locks at little tug, a sexy smile crossing his face, “This hair of yours, it’s driving me crazy. I keep wanting to grab a pair of scissors and lop this off.”
Her hand reached up too, brushing the side of his face and touching his brown hair that was mussed up around his ears. “Likewise,” she whispered.
For a few seconds neither of them spoke. Callie had no idea what she was doing. She was in the middle of the biggest potential outbreak of her career, in a strange city, with no real idea of what could happen next. There was nothing in the plan about this. There was nothing that told you what to do when your colleague was sick and you had to take over the management of a situation like this. She needed a friend. She needed someone to reach out to.
“I saw your hand shaking earlier. Are you scared, Dr. Turner?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. No one else could possibly hear them.
“Scared?” she repeated. “Matt, I’m terrified.” She felt a whoosh of air come out of her lungs. It was the first time she’d said the words out loud. She’d spent the last twelve hours thinking them but she couldn’t have imagined actually saying them to someone. It was like laying herself bare. To a man she hardly knew. It had to be a recipe for disaster.
He raised one eyebrow. “Like I said earlier, we’re all scared. There’s not a person in this E.R. right now who wants to be here—except, of course, for a few DPA geeks. Most people would sell their right arm to get out of here.” He touched the side of her arm, running the palm of his hand up and down it. “Fear of the unknown is one of the most terrifying fears that there is.”
She nodded, knowing what he was saying was true. There was something soothing about his voice. Something reassuring.
Her hand touched the side of his cheek. He almost flinched. She could see it. But he stood firm, his pale green eyes fixed on hers. “I can’t work you out, Matt Sawyer. You’re supposed to be a bad boy—a rule-breaker. Mr. Nasty. But right now I’m seeing a whole other side to you.”
He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?” She sniffed the air around her. “I can’t smell anything.”
“It’s weird. Like strawberries or fruit or something.”
She smiled. It was proof that they were standing too close to one another. “It’s raspberries. It’s my shampoo.”
He moved even closer, his nose brushing against the top of her head as he inhaled again. “Almost good enough to eat,” he murmured.
She couldn’t wrap her head around all this. Maybe it was the time of night and her befuddled brain. She’d heard that Sawyer had lost it after his wife had died, had finished treating the patients he’d had to, had roared at everyone and walked off the job. He’d refused to make contact with anyone after that.
But here he was. Obviously struggling. But here.
His hand reached up and tightened around hers. There was an edge to his gaze. A shield going up right before her eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know that I want to know anything. I guess I just want to find out for myself. If I’d listened to Evan Hunter, I wouldn’t have spoken to you at all when I got here, but I like to go on instincts.”
“And what are your instincts telling you, Callie Turner?”
Wow. What a question. Because right now her instincts were telling her she was acting like a seventeen-year-old girl rather than a twenty-nine-year-old woman.
He moved their hands from the side of his cheek to resting both of them on her breastbone. Could he feel her heart beating against the skin on his hand? A man who had seen her virtually naked a few hours before?
What was she thinking about? Outside, down at the desk, there were a million things that she should be doing. Being in here, with Matt Sawyer, wasn’t on the list that she’d prepared earlier.
But the words came too easily, “My instincts are telling me that Callum Ferguson is one of the wisest men I’ve ever known. And if he had hope for you, then maybe I should too.”
He was even closer now. She could feel his breath on her cheeks, warming her skin. He bent forward, his lips brushing the side of her ear. It felt like the most erotic touch she’d ever experienced. “What if I told you I’m still a bad boy? What if I told you I left my last two jobs in Alaska and Connecticut before they could fire me?”
And then it happened. Callie just let go. Just like she’d done on the phone earlier with Evan. She didn’t think, she just acted. She spoke the words that came instantly into her brain. What was happening to her? “I’d say you found problems in the places you were working. I’d say you told them what was wrong and how to fix it. I’d say they probably didn’t like it.”
He tilted his head to one side, the lazy smile still fixed on his face. “I knew you were young. I thought you didn’t know anything. I thought you only followed rules.”
His words were supposed to be teasing but something else happened.
Something flooded through her veins. Adrenaline, laced with fear.
She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be in here with him. It was compromising her ability to think straight.
He was right. Following rules was what she knew. Following rules was safe.
Last time she hadn’t followed the rules it had ruined her life.
No. It had ruined her sister’s life.
So, getting involved with a rule-breaker?
Not an option.
His phone buzzed, in that gentle, quiet way it did when it was switched to vibrate instead of ring. She sprang backwards. “I need to go, Matt.” She pushed the door open, flooding the room with light.
“Wait!” He grabbed her arm as he glanced at his phone. “I’m guessing here as I’m not sure of the number but I think it’s my sister. She’s the only person I know who would be so persistent.”
“Your sister?” The words cut through her like a knife. Her back-to-reality jolt was instant. “You have a sister?”
Something had just happened. And Sawyer didn’t understand it. One minute they’d been almost nose to nose in the darkened room—as if something was about to happen. The next minute he had almost seen her building the wall around herself.
He had no idea what had made her just snap like that.
Miss Hoity-Toity had looked almost inviting a minute ago. For a second he’d almost thought about...
No. Not possible. He didn’t think like that any more. Well, not unless he was in a bar
and halfway through a bottle.
But for a few seconds she’d looked vulnerable. She’d looked like someone who could do with a hug. And he wasn’t the hugging type.
And that smell from her. The raspberry shampoo. More enticing than any perfume he’d ever smelt.
It was weird what confined spaces could do to a person.
She was still looking at him with those too-wide eyes. What was with her? What was the big deal?
“Yes, I’ve got a sister.”
“I meant to ask you if there was anybody you wanted to notify that you had been quarantined. Haven’t you told her what’s happened?”
His eyes fixed on the floor. This wasn’t going to be pretty. “My sister’s called Violet. Violet Connelly.” He waited for the penny to drop.
And it did.
“Violet Connelly’s your sister?” Her voice rose, filling the quiet room.
He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms. He was well aware he was trying to look laid back, but he was feeling anything but. All of a sudden he was hit by a wave of emotions that he didn’t want to deal with. He tried to focus on the face in front of him. “Yes. Why so surprised?”
“Violet Connelly is your sister?”
“You’ve already said that and I’ve already answered.”
She wrinkled her nose. It made her look kind of cute. “Why hasn’t she said anything? I’ve never heard her mention you and I’ve been at the DPA for the last three years.”
“I’m the family black sheep.” Explanations weren’t really his thing. It seemed the easiest solution.
“Bull. Violet’s not like that at all.”
Okay. Maybe not.
“And why don’t you have your sister’s number in your phone?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been out of touch for a little while.”
“With your sister?” Her voice rose in pitch. “How can you be out of touch with your sister?” Little pink spots had appeared on her cheeks.
“She has a different name. How come?”