One More Time - Louisa George Page 0,4

I’ll let you into a secret...’ He finished his beer. ‘We transform.’

She mustered indifference, holding her laugh back. ‘I’m only interested if you transform me another mojito.’

‘A virgin mojito for sure.’ He motioned to Bill to bring an alcohol-free drink despite her protests. ‘Er... I still don’t know your name.’

‘You are very annoying.’ And damned gorgeous, and way off-limits. And all the things she’d been warned about. And funny and sexy, too, and there was that strange pull to him that she was trying to ignore. But they were going to be working together so he’d find out her name soon enough. ‘Charge Nurse Radley. Gabby, to my friends.’

‘Well, Gabby, pleased to meet you.’ He stuck out a hand. ‘Do you have any interesting secrets you’d like to share?’

Not even if hell froze over. She’d moved to Auckland to restart her life, not relive it. Freedom. At last. Space of her own. No one to tell her what to do.

She regarded his hand with as much disdain as she could muster. God, she’d met her match here. Most men had run a mile by now.

In another life this could be fun. He could be fun.

Dodging his question, she bristled. ‘Like I said, you don’t get to call me Gabby. I’m Charge Nurse Radley.’

‘Gabby. So that is Gabrielle? Gabriella?’ His grin widened as she stuck her tongue out. It was as if he knew exactly which buttons to press, and definitely how to tease. ‘Ah, Gabriella, your eyes give so much away. Nice name, and I’ll stick with Gabby, thanks.’

‘Are you this forward with everyone or is it just me?’

‘Considering it’s your first day in a new job, I’d have thought you’d want to make a good impression.’ He laughed, his chin jutting up. ‘Here’s a hint—you could make it easier for people to get to know you.’

‘I do, usually. Just not people like you.’ And not today, when she just wanted to be left alone. ‘Don’t worry, I can do professional and competent. Tomorrow.’

‘I can’t wait. Any more frostiness and we’ll need to increase the central heating. I’ll make sure I pack a scarf.’ He checked her half-empty glass and then his watch. His smile turned from friendly to insanely wicked. ‘Gabby, you’ve got the wrong impression of me. Or you’re delusional. Or drunk. Whichever, clearly you’re a danger to yourself. So, if you’re done, I’m taking you home.’

‘Whoa, buster. You are not.’ She’d had enough of people telling her what to do. ‘I’m not ready to go home...’ She paused.

Home? Where the heck was that? Certainly not the new shared flat she’d dumped all her boxes into yesterday.

Or Wellington, with its bittersweet memories and dark, dark comers.

But she’d determined not to think about any of that. Apart from tonight. The whole day had been exhausting—a new job, new people. A sweet baby fighting for his life. Piling a tumult of more emotions to the anniversary she kept, like a vigil, every year.

And now Mr I’m-sexy-and-I-know-it was piggy-backing on it. Adding a hint of danger to the heady cocktail of anger and hurt.

‘Thank you, but I’m fine on my own.’ She dragged on her jacket, lost her balance and slid off her chair, slamming into his hard wall of stomach. ‘Oops.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ His voice sent a breeze against her neck followed by ripples of something hot pattering through her stomach. ‘Because if there’s anything I can help you with...’

Well, she had been sure. Sure she wasn’t tipsy, sure she was going to walk away.

But now? Not so much. Maybe the mojitos had made her a bit woozy after all. She wasn’t used to drinking, to meeting men in bars. To the dizzy lights of a strange new city, or the safe embrace of a man like Max Maitland.

Strong arms circled her waist as he hauled her upright and led her outside into the dark street. Heat fizzed through her body. His smell, woody and heady, washed over her. She put her hands out to his chest to create space, but something held her there—her body flat refused to move. A wave of awareness jolted through her.

As her gaze travelled up his chest, over his too-damned-sexy mouth and up to his bright blue eyes, she realised it was no good fighting it. What he hadn’t offered in words she could see from the spark, feel from his increased respiratory rate. God, she was still thinking like a goddamned nurse. How long had it been?

Too long.

She’d managed to keep