One More Time - Louisa George Page 0,22

mouth. Judging by the wicked smile he gave her, he thought it was due to his hyped-up animal magnetism. He was probably right.

His eyes locked with hers, glinting with mischief. ‘Oh, go on. Have a sip. Taste it. Then you could give me a score...out of ten? For the drink...obviously.’

Before she could answer he’d taken everyone else’s order and disappeared to the bar.

Rachel grabbed the glass. ‘Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll do the honours.’ She took a long gulp. ‘Delish. And tell me, Gabby, how does Max Maitland know what your usual is?’

From the heady heights of fun and relaxation things were rapidly going downhill. Gabby played the indifference card and shrugged. ‘He probably asked the barman. I was in here a few weeks ago and tried the cocktails.’ It wasn’t technically a lie.

‘Probably ’cos you’re the charge nurse,’ Rachel whispered, ‘trying to get into your good books. Always good to have the boss on side.’

Trying to get into my... No. Do not go there. ‘Yes, probably.’

‘Or maybe you’re in already...’ Rach nudged her. ‘You know what I mean? But be warned; he’s broken a few hearts already, that guy. Won’t commit. Maybe he’s still in love with Mitchell’s girlfriend.’

Gabby choked on her lemonade. ‘I doubt it. On all accounts.’

Did he? Was he?

A small knot of anxiety tightened in her gut. She just couldn’t imagine a scenario where Max would sleep with his brother’s girlfriend.

If he knew the gossip machine wheels were greased by lies about his love life the man would be mortified. And worse... If they were true? Did she want to get involved with a man who’d do that to his brother?

Involved? Yeah, right. She was definitely getting ahead of herself.

Too soon he was back, edging into the gap Andrea had left. He slipped into the space, slipped into the conversation. Slipped far too easily into the forefront of Gabby’s focus.

She watched him laughing and joking with the others, the attention he gave the women. The jokey camaraderie with the guys. He dominated the conversation. The life and soul of the party. The centre of the group. All ideas bounced off him. All his comments were noted with due respect.

She watched the way he chatted with Rachel, her new knowledge about him tainting the way she read his behaviour. Charming, funny, attentive, but definitely not stepping over the line. Not like the other night when something had connected between them.

And hopefully he didn’t kiss other charge nurses the way he’d kissed her the other day. Maybe he did. Maybe kissing charge nurses was his hobby. Others did motocross or tennis. He did kissing. Hell, he’d perfected the art.

Perhaps Mitchell had read too much into a flirty conversation between Max and Jodi. Perhaps... Oh, the whole scenario was making her brain hurt.

But asking him?

As if. How could she insist he didn’t ask her questions and then break that very rule herself?

How she managed to get through the next two hours was beyond her. The more she focused on him, the more aware she became of the tiniest touch, the merest glance in her direction. The way he ran his hand through his hair when he talked about serious stuff. Or when his smile hit his eyes and she felt like the sun was shining.

Somehow, she agreed to join the ward touch-rugby team. Stumbled through a conversation about the latest boy band to hit New Zealand. The best ski lodges for parties. The merits of beer versus spirits.

All the time trying not to inhale his scent. Trying not to react to the brush of his skin against hers. Ignoring the fire raging in her belly when he leaned against her or when he glanced in her direction for her opinion on the dangers of snowboarding. When he caught her eye and gave her a cheeky wink or the heat of his palm on her thigh when he shifted to allow someone out of the group.

And the way that simmering tension between them seemed to grow exponentially until she felt she’d go mad if she didn’t touch him. Run her finger down his cheek, through his hair. Press her lips against his.

Suddenly, Rachel looked at the emptying table and checked her watch. ‘Oh, goodness. Look at that, it’s getting late. Got to dash. I’m on an early tomorrow. But it’s been great. We should do this again.’

Gabby gathered her rapidly diminishing senses as she watched Rachel leave, realising that if she didn’t go she’d be left alone with