Luca's Bad Girl - By Amy Andrews Page 0,6
obsess over the slightest blemish.
‘I’m not most women.’
Luca chuckled. ‘Yes. I think you are right.’
Mia sat still as he opened the packet and secured the wound edges together, applying firm tension through each sticky strip. Then he applied an adhesive dressing over the top. She watched as he absently brushed the pad of his thumb back and forth over the dressing as if he were a parent, rubbing a boo-boo better.
Just like her father had done.
‘You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,’ he murmured.
Unfortunately, he was right. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her father since Stan’s episode. It had probably been the first time ever she’d been confronted with how emotionally untenable it had been for him to stay.
‘It’s busy,’ she said brusquely, rising from the chair and clearing away the detritus from her dressing and tossing it in the bin. ‘We can’t just skulk in here all night.’
‘The team have got it covered. And you’re not going back out there until you’ve had a break. Try and get some sleep.’ She opened her mouth to protest and he stood. ‘That’s an order.’
Great! What in the hell was she going to do alone in here with a bunch of unwanted memories that wouldn’t quit? Things she just wanted to forget.
‘What if a bus crash comes in?’
Luca grinned. ‘I’ll come and wake you.’
Mia felt the grin right down to her toes. It twinkled in his eyes and gave the devil a whole new degree of wicked.
The fact that she noticed his twinkling eyes rankled. ‘Are you flirting with me?’ she demanded, crossing her arms.
Luca chuckled. She didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Would it be a bad thing if I was?’
‘Yes,’ she said. Something told her he wouldn’t be an easy man to walk away from. Not disposable, like the others. ‘Stop it. I have no desire to become a notch on what I understand is your very crowded bedpost.’
Luca regarded her for a moment. In her top and jeans, arms crossed, a frown knitting her brows, she looked quite fierce. But Luca knew women. He knew them well.
And Mia McKenzie was definitely protesting too much.
His gaze slipped to her mouth. ‘Are you sure?’
Mia felt her lips tingle beneath his heated stare and felt her resistance ebb. Now, he was something that could make her forget for a little while.
Luca grinned, pleased to have discomforted her. ‘Goodnight, Mia. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’
By four a.m. Luca was ready to head home. The craziness had settled and things were quiet—for now anyway.
He’d checked on the MVA from earlier—the laparotomy had found a perforated bowel. Stan had been admitted to the psych unit on a ninety-six-hour hold. The baby was settled into the special care nursery for overnight monitoring.
And his paperwork was up to date.
Just one last thing to do—check on Mia.
He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob of the on-call room. Prickly little Mia probably wouldn’t appreciate being checked up on.
Her prim I have no desire to become a notch on what I understand is your very crowded bedpost, had played on his mind ever since she’d uttered it.
She obviously disapproved.
What the hell was wrong with indulging in a little flirtation here and there? Spending an enjoyable few hours with a woman who was fully aware that one night was all he was interested in?
He was always open and honest about his intentions. And he never made the mistake of giving false hope by going back for seconds. He knew his limitations where relationships were concerned—had learned them at a very early age.
Best not to set expectations—that way you couldn’t let anyone down.
He loved women—bronzed, natural, fun-loving Australian women in particular—and they loved him. And he was a healthy adult male.
Still, Mia intrigued him. Her resistance even more so. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want her.
He twisted the knob and opened the door. She wasn’t around and the light had been turned out. Sleeping room one had its door shut and he padded over to it, knocking lightly when he reached his destination.
No reply was forthcoming. He hesitated again before gently twisting the knob and opening the door a crack—checking on her was the right thing to do.
The sight stopped him in his tracks.
She had fallen asleep in a semi-upright foetal position on the triple-seater couch. Her head was snuggled against the fat cushions of the sofa, her spine propped up against the squishy arm, her legs, tucked in close to her bottom,