The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date Page 3

  ‘I’m sorry?’ The fleeting relief she’d felt at finally being spoken to dissolved. But she’d conquered a zillion worse challenges than him.

  ‘Working for Daddy? Very convenient.’

  ‘Oh, whoop-de-dee. Another man who won’t take me seriously. Story of my life.’ Sitting in silence was preferable, but his irritating challenge warranted an answer. ‘Convenient, yes, because I was available at very short notice, not to mention my excellent qualifications and my experience.’ And the emotional bribery. You owe us this, Dani. After everything you put us through. And she did. But what they’d all been through had been a direct result of their outrageous parenting skills. She stifled a laugh. Didn’t skills usually mean doing something well?

  ‘So, you are actually a physiotherapist?’ He leaned closer and looked at her hands. Which made a positive change to the part of her body his gaze had been fixed on for most of the evening. ‘With those nails?’

  ‘For someone who gives the impression of being a real man about town you don’t know much about women. They’re false? Like you and your phoney niceness.’ It felt really good to be honest. Although, the light shuttered down again in his eyes and for a second she regretted her sarcasm. A few times in their brief conversation she’d almost thought he was different to the other men she knew. Almost. But then he kept spoiling it. However, she had to work with him, no matter how much she didn’t want to be here. She needed to remember her poise and her posture. Polite was harder to muster.

  Running her finger round the rim of her glass she forced a smile and tried to soften. ‘I’m a good physiotherapist, actually. Seems all that private education did me some good after all. Graduated top of the class.’

  He nodded, eyes focused, sharp. Scrutinising her, and not just her physical assets. ‘With sports experience?’

  ‘Of course. Oh, for goodness sake, get off your high horse.’ Irritatingly, his pupils flared at the mention of horse. ‘Did you quiz Matt like this? Or the massage guy?’ He had the decency to look apologetic. ‘No, I thought not. Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been working as a physio for eight months. I deal almost exclusively in sports injury. And, okay, so I don’t have the years of experience that Stewy had, but I know what I’m doing.’

  She drew strength and pleasure from the shocked expression on his face as she continued, ‘And I thought this whole thing was about teamwork. You know, I had this weird dream that we could all work together. Or is that just for the boys? Is it too hard for you to understand that a woman might actually be able to do the job too?’

  ‘Whoa. Hold it right there. You can turn me down for sex, but don’t ever accuse me of being a misogynist.’ He held his palms up in self-defence; his eyebrows lifted with a look of indignation all mixed up with frustration. ‘It’s not the fact you’re a woman. I have no problem with that at all. It’s the fact you’re Davide’s daughter. Usually Danatello girls don’t do paid work unless it’s to grace the covers of magazines. I was surprised. You’ve got to admit it’s a bit different to the, er, braids...’ He gestured down his body to his chest as if he was holding two large balls, and grinned. ‘And the fountain.’

  At his woeful impression of her cleavage she grinned back. And just like that her anger whooshed out of her. For the first time since it had happened mention of the fountain incident had caused her to smile. ‘I had to do something. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life living off my parents, getting wasted, not using my brain. Although everyone said I was mad—or even more crazy—when I announced that I wanted to be a physio.’

  ‘But why this? You could have done any number of charitable jobs? You don’t need to work at all, surely?’

  ‘You saw me out there with those media people. I hate the limelight. I don’t want to be a WAG or an It girl—the only letters I want associated with my name are related to academic qualifications. BSc works for a start. And I love fixing people, the physicality of the job, the sports environment.’ Apart from when they treated her like porcelain. Or worse, left her out of the conversation altogether. She shook her head. Did everyone think all she was fit for was baubles and beads and a photo shoot? ‘Sadly, you’re just like my father. You believe the hype and can’t see past what you think you know about me. Nothing more than marriage fodder. If Daddy had his way I’d be shacked up with one of his team. Preferably the one he couldn’t lure here without the unspoken promise of bedding his middle daughter. Lady Bloody Godiva.’

  He gently reached out and moved her hair-wrapped finger away from her mouth. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Oh.’ Again already? Hours of therapy wasted. But she only did it when she was wound up.

  At his touch something strange and electric zinged through her body. Why was she nervous around him? Was it truly nerves? Or just a by-product of her frustration at coming back to the family fold, or was it something else entirely? Something she hadn’t felt before. Something wild that put her on edge. Something she didn’t know how to deal with. ‘Is it such a crime to want to help people instead of screw them for everything they’ve got?’

  He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. His eyes were kind and warm. A tiny crease crinkled at the corner of his eyes as he smiled. ‘I misjudged you. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’m used to it.’

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t be.’

  ‘Welcome to the whacky world of the Danatellos.’ She inhaled, then blew out a long slow breath. This displaced feeling would soon go; she was only here for a few short weeks, the craziness of the tournament. Then she could be back in her apartment, back to her lovely job. ‘Whatever. I spent one long month in the Inner Sanctum facing a lot of demons. The only thing that made me feel better was time out chatting to the staff. People actually listened to what I wanted instead of dictating what I should do. But by the end I itched to stop talking and start doing something. One of the nurses mentioned her brother was a physio at a college, helping kids recover from their sports injuries. It seemed such a nice thing to do. So normal.’

  His dimple appeared as he smiled and shrugged. ‘Hey, I come from a long line of stuffy academics. I grew up on dusty geological digs and boarding school. What’s normal?’

  She laughed. This was normal. Talking, laughing, being the person she wanted to be. Being accepted, not judged. Even if it had taken a little time, and she still had a long way to go. ‘Okay. Enough about me, and my boring story. Tell me about the condoms.’

  He coughed, and spilled the water in the glass he was holding. ‘You heard?’

  Glad to get a reaction out of him she offered a napkin. ‘I have superpower hearing. Watch out.’

  He dabbed at the water, leaned back, crossed his feet at the ankles and gave her the most mischievous smile she’d seen in a decade. She almost swore that wicked dimple winked at her. ‘Dani, I have superpower stamina. Hence the condoms. Watch out.’

  A flash of heat inflamed the pit of her stomach and hit her cheeks in nanoseconds. The idea of him naked rebounded into her brain again. Along with the sudden idea of how good he’d look against her Egyptian cotton sheets.

  No. She pressed a cool hand against her clammy neck.

  She was no good at this flirting; being playful wasn’t her thing. She’d perfected the art of aloof. Besides, flirting was off limits. He was off limits. Men were off limits. After Paul’s heartbreaking betrayal she didn’t want to think about trusting another man. But she didn’t know what to do with the butterflies in her stomach or the raw energy she got from talking to Zac.

  Glancing around the room she realised the music had stopped, waiters were clearing the last of the plates and most of the party goers had left. The players had been under strict orders for an early night. Even Daddy had gone. For some reason she knew it would be safer tucked up in her bed, alone, than spending any more time here with Zac Price. ‘Okay. Well, I’m going to bed.’

  His gaze moved away from her and scanned the emptying room. ‘Good call. Looks like we’re the last ones at the party. I’
ll walk you to the elevator.’

  His exotic woody scent filled the air, reminding her of how close she’d been to him when he’d saved her from the press. The aroma was comforting and exciting at the same time, with undertones of something else—his own natural smell, which was heady, all male. And intoxicating.

  ‘Which floor?’ She reached out to the panel of buttons in the elevator, now wired at her body’s strange and intense reaction to someone she barely knew, her hand shaking, as an intense pulse throbbed in the tiny enclosed space.

  ‘Eleven.’ He leaned forward and his hand brushed against hers as they went for the same number.

  ‘Oh, me too.’ Her voice cracked and she snatched her hand away, shifted into the corner, as far away from him as she could possibly get.

  ‘Apparently management are clustered in the same area.’ A lazy sexy smile smothered his lips; he seemed so comfortable in his skin. She guessed that mouth had seduced many a hapless girl. Well, she wasn’t going to be another of his conquests.

  ‘That’s cosy. But I suppose it helps for meetings and things.’

  ‘Things...yes.’ His eyes glinted. ‘I’m rooming with Matt. You?’

  ‘On my own.’

  ‘Nice.’ He held her gaze. Something unspoken fired between them. Something hot.

  Something she should not, could not, would not, act on.

  When the door pinged she darted out, walked as fast as her silly shoes allowed down the corridor, fumbled in her clutch for the swipe card. But he was at her shoulder every step of the way.

  ‘In a hurry?’

  ‘Got to get my beauty sleep, you know.’ She swiped the card. Red light. Swiped it again. Red. Come on. Give me a break. Open up before I say or do something utterly stupid.

  ‘Need a hand?’ He took the card from her fingers and swiped. ‘There you go, first time lucky. If you need anything just holler. As luck would have it, I’m right next door.’

  She swallowed hard. Closed the door behind him and breathed a silent goodnight. Then she switched the air conditioning to freeze-your-socks-off and prayed she could get through working in close proximity with Pretty Boy and the weird sensations rippling through her body. Glancing over to the interconnecting door she knew every ounce of her willpower would be tested to the limits.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AS ZAC STEPPED back for Dani to climb aboard the team coach ahead of him, excitement pinged through his veins, and not just because they were en route to the opening ceremony. If he thought seeing her in a cap and tracksuit would dampen his attraction to her he’d been sorely mistaken. He watched the tight curves under the figure-hugging black fabric and swallowed hard. To add insult to injury, the bus stank of muscle rub and testosterone, but the only thing filling his nostrils was jasmine and flowers.

  As if his job wasn’t hard enough.

  For the past three hours they’d pummelled the players into some kind of shape. Worked smoothly side by side, focused and determined.

  He hadn’t been distracted by the soft texture of her skin, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled or the tiny mole just below her left eye. He hadn’t thought about how good she’d felt in his arms as he’d escorted her into the ballroom last night. The way she raised his blood pressure—in a good way—even when she hurled abuse at him. In fact, he also hadn’t lain awake thinking of her only feet away in the next room, wondering what she wore to bed. If anything. Nah, he hadn’t thought about her at all.

  Frustrating didn’t come close. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on making a good impression and getting the team match-fit if his head was constantly tuned to the bright light of her smile? Not to mention the sweet curve of her...

  Focus.

  He’d promised Tom he’d do this, chase his dream and make it work. As he thought about Tom again he fought against the memories that almost overwhelmed him—promises and guilt: a heady formula for success.

  Now he surveyed the full coach with dismay. The only available seat was halfway down, next to her, and cheers erupted the length of the bus as he sat down next to her. He shook his head and wiggled towards the aisle. Too much closeness and too much Dani were stoking a heat in his groin that he needed to ignore. ‘Looks like the Fates have put us together again.’

  ‘Oh, lucky me.’ She gave him a look that said she felt the opposite of lucky, but she winked in a kind of camaraderie way, long thick eyelashes grazing soft cheeks. Three hours of rubbing muscles and talking shoulder joint rehab had placed their relationship on a more even professional footing. Or so he wanted to believe.

  He ignored the sarcasm and flicked his thumb behind them to the squad who were now singing the national anthem with great aplomb. ‘At least someone’s in good spirits.’

  She shrugged, her cheeks pink, eyes gleaming, more with frustration than frivolity. ‘You heard the boss, they should be focusing on the game plan, not getting carried away with the excitement.’ She stood up and turned to the back of the bus. He had to admire her confidence. As a woman she seemed a little afraid of the world, but as a physio she oozed professionalism. Far from shouting, as he thought she’d do, she spoke to two players a few rows back in a quiet voice that commanded attention. Not the kind of leery attention she was probably used to—but sincere and genuine attention. She’d shown them in the treatment room that she could handle a hamstring strain as well as the next person. In the captain’s run she’d managed the five kilometres as if it was a Sunday morning stroll and had worked through the injury list in a calm efficient manner. ‘Okay, earphones in everyone. Focus. Jaxon, keep that thigh warm. Manu, if you stretch up like that again you’ll end up being sidelined. Now settle down.’

  Silence hit the bus like an out of control railroad truck. She sat and swiped her hands together. ‘Well, that told them.’

  ‘Sure did. Next time I need a bodyguard I’ll know who to ask.’

  That raised a brief smile, but her eyebrows lifted in derision. ‘Don’t you get carried away with the excitement as well. And don’t forget I have a degree in doing odd things with sticky tape. And I’m not afraid to use it.’

  So she wanted to play. He could play. One eye on the journey, the other on her. No harm done and a very nice way to get to the stadium. ‘Sounds like fun. Any particular place on my body you’d prefer to start...?’

  ‘Your too-smart mouth? And then...’ Her eyes met his and heat zipped between them. The air around them palpably thickened and his gaze dropped to her lips. No lipstick today, but perfect pink lips pressed together in a sarcastic, possibly sadistic, smile. An unbidden need to run his tongue along those lips powered into his head.

  No.

  When he dragged his gaze back to her eyes he saw the hint of desire. God, he’d spent over a decade wooing women. He knew when a woman wanted him. And Dani’s want fired something in him. It had been a long time since his body had reacted so strongly to a woman.

  Then her father climbed aboard. And just like that her confidence seemed to leach out of her. She scanned Davide’s every move as he waved royally to the players, then took the seat the driver had reserved for him up front. Her eyes fixed on the thick rolls of moley skin on the back of his neck; her hands fiddled with her hair as he’d seen her do twice already when she was nervous. Zac’s hands clenched in an involuntary reaction—he knew how it felt to crave a father’s attention, to be brought to the brink with anxiety. To be found wanting.

  But whereas Zac had fought against it and thrown himself deep into proving himself in every which way he could, clearly Dani had internalised it all.

  Once they’d set off Zac felt a tap on his shoulder and as he turned Matt thrust a tabloid newspaper in his hands. ‘Here. Page twelve. Don’t let her see it.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ A knot fisted in his gut as Zac twisted further into the aisle and peered at the grainy photograph of Dani and himself, arm in arm on the red carpet. The moment where he’d told her to imagine the hacks naked, her face alight with laughter looking up at him with bright ey
es. The angle of the picture emphasised a closeness that hadn’t been there.

  The headline read Lady Godiva and Sir Lancelot?

  Sir Love-A-Lot, more like. In a rare public outing celebrity recluse Dani Danatello and her rumoured-to-be new beau, Dr Zachary Price, walked the red carpet last night for a private charity ball organised by Danatello Investments. Clearly excited to be with him, Dani could barely keep her hands off her man, and who could blame her? Price has the allure and physique of one her father’s rugby players. And a pedigree to match. His parents, Marguerite and Rufus Price, are the esteemed and outspoken heads of the internationally award-winning Price Institute of Geology. Famed for his denigration of popular culture and a society based on celebrity, excess and falling academic standards Rufus espoused his opinions in his recent book, Going to Hell. So the News Women’s Page can’t help wondering what Rufus’s reaction would be to his son mixing with the very type of people this leading academic scorns.

  ‘What’s that?’ Dani’s voice got louder and the jasmine aroma intensified. The hairs on the back of Zac’s neck prickled as he sensed her closing in. A sudden need to protect her mixed with the fury swimming in his gut, she didn’t deserve such scrutiny and lies. And neither did he. If Davide got a whiff of this there’d be hell to pay.

  Snapping the paper shut he forced a smile. ‘Nothing. The usual dross.’

  ‘You are such a bad liar. You do know that hiding it makes me want to read it even more? And I can buy it from the local store any time today. Or look it up on the internet.’ She took out her phone and began jabbing at it.

  ‘Okay, take it. But I’m warning you, it’s not pretty.’ He handed her the paper and shook his head. She was right—she’d see it anyway. Clearly she didn’t want saving. She’d fought some demons and come out stronger, that was for sure. But that relentless attempt at jovial sarcasm was testament to a woman who didn’t want to let anyone close. And yet, the message her eyes gave him, way too many times for him not to notice—the heat, the flash of reluctant desire—made him think she was fighting other demons too.