Dash. Back to lettuce and tomato. Her determination got a much-needed boost as she observed Cody roaring out of the car park on his motorbike.
What a bod. What a man. What a dilemma.
She could never ask him to give up his need for a family. It wasn’t fair. She had to learn to see him as a colleague and nothing more. Had to give up this unexpected need to get closer to him, to get to know him better.
She had to learn not to open her mouth and volunteer dumb things like helping with his home decorating.
Though it would be interesting to see where he lived, and what his taste in housing was. It’s none of your business, Harper!
Maybe she should buy that board and paddle, head out to sea and never come back, because all she was doing right now was setting herself up for heartbreak. Concentrate on your work, Harper; that’s what’s real.
The rest of the week flew by without any major incidents, which for Harper now meant someone holding a loaded gun to her head or the department being swarmed with armed police. The drama of an accident paled in significance, which didn’t mean she felt any less concern or worry for her patients. No, they still got to her, had her heart aching for them, as they battled a cardiac arrest, a bleed out or broken bones.
But she felt able to take everything in her stride again—except for walking into Resus One, even when the room was empty; or a curtain being flicked open suddenly; or someone appearing behind her without having made any noise. Those things made her jittery, had her laughing loudly at inopportune moments or dropping a utensil unexpectedly. She’d noticed the same reactions in Jess and Matilda, and had talked to George about getting the young nurses counselling if they wanted it, while turning it down for herself.
The only time she felt completely safe was when Cody was working beside her, his calm demeanour soothing the stress tensing her body.
Now she turned from staring into Resus One to find Cody watching, and said, ‘You seem to be coping with the aftermath. How do you do it?’
His smile was soft, contemplative. ‘Who says I’m coping?’
‘If you’re not then you’re putting on a good show.’
‘That’s a relief. I’d hate for everyone to see I’m really just a scaredy-cat.’
As if that would ever happen. The man was fierce in his gaze, in his determination not to be taken down, in his quiet but thorough way of dealing with anything that cropped up. ‘Do you wake up during the night in a sweat with your heart pounding? Or leap out of your skin when someone comes into a cubicle far too quietly?’
She hadn’t meant to reveal any of that, but around this man her mouth took on a life of its own. She hadn’t decided if that was because he was so hot, or so caring, or helpful and understanding. All those attributes and more added to his sexiness, making him one hell of a package that had any cognizant female drooling and acting totally out of character. She was no more immune than any of them. It might be an idea to remember that and accept her feelings for Cody were probably being repeated everywhere.
He said, ‘All of that, and other things, like looking for short men with cold blue eyes in crowds.’ It was unbelievable how much understanding filtered through his voice.
Her head tipped back and she stared up at him. It wasn’t only in his voice, but it was darkening his eyes and softening his expression. No, they had an affinity for each other. She knew it—couldn’t deny it any more. What she did about it was up for speculation. She told him, ‘I haven’t done that.’
‘Good. Because once you start looking, there seems to be more creeps out there than you’d ever imagined.’ Cody smiled softly, taking the sharpness away from his words. ‘But I think I’m getting over it a little. I’m not as edgy as I was on Monday.’ So why did his voice hold a hint of tension? Why was it husky and low, goose-bump lifting and spine-tingling raw?
Nothing to do with gangsters.
Harper coughed against her hand, trying to remove the sudden dry tickle at the back of her throat. Think about the verbal conversation, not the hidden one. Think practical stuff, not hot bodies and sublime release. ‘I’m hoping the weekend off will help, starting at three o’clock this afternoon.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘In two hours and six minutes, but I’m not counting.’
‘Something to be said for Friday nights and weekends,’ he agreed in that voice that was still doing strange things to her insides. Hell, and her outsides—her skin was tightening at the thought of his hands touching her. Huh? When was that likely to happen? Not at all, if she had any common sense left, and that was debatable at this moment.
Thank goodness for the two whole days and some hours to do absolutely whatever she chose. Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything exciting or distracting that didn’t involve Cody. ‘What have you got planned for the weekend?’ Shut up. Ridiculous, how disengaged her brain had become.
Cody’s eyes widened slightly and he studied her as though looking for an answer to a question she had no idea about. Then he shrugged oh-so-nonchalantly and picked up a file. ‘Not sure.’
‘Not painting?’ She still hadn’t been to his place. Her impatience as she waited for the invitation she knew wouldn’t come was getting to her.
‘Probably not.’ He deliberately glanced down at the paperwork in his hand. ‘I’ll go and get our next patient.’
Ouch. ‘Cubicle Four,’ she snapped, not happy at being put in her place. It seemed Cody wasn’t having any problems keeping her at a distance after all. She must’ve imagined those intense looks, or misinterpreted them.
By the time he returned with a man holding a heavily bandaged hand against his chest, Harper had managed to pull on her professional face. ‘I’m Dr White. What have you been doing to yourself?’ she asked the patient as he settled onto the bed with help from Cody.
‘I was replacing a pane of glass in my glasshouse and it slipped through my fingers.’ The man winced as he held his hand towards Cody so he could unwrap metres of gauze. ‘Silly old coot. My wife always tells me to be careful.’
A quick glance at the patient notes. Sixty-nine…nothing in his medical history to be concerned about. ‘I’m sure you were careful, Henry, but accidents do happen. You weren’t feeling lightheaded or dizzy when this occurred?’
‘Not at all.’ He was staring at his hand where all four fingers were sliced on the inside.
As his face turned pale, Cody gently pushed him onto the pillows. ‘Lie back and let Dr White take care of you.’ Glancing across to her, he added, ‘I’ll get the suture kit.’
The curtain flicked behind him as he strode out. His face had been inscrutable, not an expression she was used to seeing when it came to Cody. Looking at her watch, she sighed. One hour and fifty-eight minutes of cold shoulder to get through. His sudden mood change annoyed her. What was so damn wrong with asking about his weekend plans?
‘How bad is it?’ Henry asked as she gently prised his fingers open again and studied the wounds.
‘The cuts don’t appear to have gone too deep but I’m going to put stitches in each finger. You won’t be using this hand for a few days.’
Henry didn’t look too unhappy. ‘Will you give me something for the pain, doc?’
Her head shot up and she glared around the cubicle. Doc. He was here. The gunman had returned.
A large, gentle hand settled between her shoulder blades. ‘Easy, Doctor White. Harper.’
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Cody’s calm tone instantly returned her to normal and brought her back into the cubicle with a man dressed in his gardening clothes, requiring sutures, waiting patiently on the bed, unaware of the shock he’d given her. Her breath sighed over her bottom lip. ‘Thanks.’
Cody’s mouth softened, and the corners lifted enough to show that everything was all right between them. His voice was low and husky as he told her, ‘I’ve got your back, Harper.’
There really was no escaping the fact they were more than colleagues, not when he looked and spoke like that. Suddenly she let it all go, gave up trying to pretend she had to keep him at arm’s length. Her heart lifted, expanded and warmth trickled throughout her body. Her eyes also got in on the act, getting a bit wet, and she hurriedly had to wipe her forearm over them. ‘I know.’ She did too. Even while feeling that resurging fear she’d known Cody would be there for her.
‘Do I need antibiotics?’ her patient asked, bringing her back to reality.
No, that wasn’t true. She was already there. Whatever was going on between her and Cody, it was real. She found a smile for Henry. ‘Yes, and a painkiller.’
She got on with stitching the injured fingers: the only sewing she found interesting and actually ever finished, she acknowledged with wry amusement. That pile on her table at home was destined for the bin, or to go to someone who’d actually enjoy working with the fabrics.
Cody returned to the cubicle after showing Henry out, flicking the curtain closed. ‘At the risk of being turned down again, I’m going to extend the same invitation as I did last Friday. Want to go for a drink with all the crew when we’re done here?’
‘I’d love to.’
Surprise registered in those green eyes, lightening them to her favourite shade—spring grass. ‘Good,’ he muttered, his gaze firmly fixed on her.
So firmly she felt as though he was boring into her, seeing behind all the nonsense she put out there to try and keep him at a distance. The longer and harder he watched her, the softer and warmer she felt. Her mouth formed one word. ‘Cody.’