Her Hot Highland Doc. Annie O'Neil
and gave her shoulders a fortifying shake. Who knew? Maybe she could get someone with bagpipes to rustle up a tune!
The piper’s “K.I.C.K.A.S.S. Anthem.”
Hmm. It needed work.
Regardless, the rhythm of the words sang to her in their own way. They were her link to sanity.
She jumped as a door slammed again. Hearing no footsteps, she thought she might as well suck it up and see what was going on out there. No point hiding out in the toilet! In less than thirty minutes she’d be seeing a patient, and it would probably be a good idea to get the lie of the land.
Kali cracked the door open and stuck her head out—only to pull it right back in when Brodie unexpectedly stormed past. If he’d had a riding cloak and a doublet on he would have looked just like the handsome hero from a classic romance.
Handsome?
She was really going to have to stop seeing him in that way. Rude and curt was more like it. And maybe just a little bit sexy Viking.
He abruptly turned and screeched to a halt, one hand holding the other as if in prayer, his index fingers resting upon his lips. His awfully nice lips.
Stop it! You are not to get all mushy about your new boss. Your new, very grumpy boss. You’ve been down that road and had to leave everything behind. Never again.
She stood stock-still as Brodie’s eyes scanned her from top to toe. A little shudder shivered its way along her spine. His gaze felt surprisingly...intimate.
“That’s one hell of a look, Dr. O’Shea.”
As Brodie’s blue eyes worked their way along her scrappy ensemble for a second time Kali all but withered with embarrassment. Snappy comebacks weren’t her forte. Not by a long shot.
“Once I get a lab coat on it should be all right.”
Nice one, Kali.
“Sure.” Brodie turned and resumed his journey to the front of the clinic. “I’ll just get the patient list.”
Kali did a skip-run-walk thing to catch up with his long-legged strides.
“Would you like me to take a look?”
“That’s generally the idea with a patient list.”
Kali blew out a slow breath, her eyes on Brodie’s retreating back as she continued race-walking to keep up with him. Touchy, touchy! She was next to certain he wasn’t angry with her, but there was a bagpipe-sized chip on that shoulder of his.
“I meant your hand.”
Brodie stopped short and whirled around. Kali only just skidded to a halt in time not to run into his chest. Which, given how nice he smelled, wouldn’t have been too bad a thing, but—
“I’d have thought you’d be too afraid.”
“Wh-what?” Kali instinctively pulled back at Brodie’s aggressive response. She’d been afraid before. Terrified, actually. For her life. And she’d survived.
She pressed her heels into the ground. If she could make a last-minute exit out of an arranged marriage under the threat of death she could deal with a grumpy thirtysomething doctor with a self-induced kettle burn.
“I’ve dealt with difficult patients before,” she continued levelly, her eyes on his hand. Meeting his gaze would only increase the heated atmosphere. “I’m sure we’ll come out all right in the end.”
“Difficult patients with Ebola?”
Brodie thrust his hand forward and with every pore of strength she could muster Kali held her ground. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was not—absolutely, positively not—going to start out her new life fearfully.
“Aren’t you going to touch it?”
He thrust his hand straight into her eyeline—millimeters from her face. What was this? Some sort of hardcore newcomer test? Whatever it was, she was not going to be frightened by Brodie McClellan or anyone—ever again.
* * *
Brodie watched, amazed, as Kali stood stock-still, seemingly unfazed by his ridiculously aggressive behavior. She took his hand in hers, one of her delicate fingers holding open his own as they instinctively tried to curl round the injury. It was the first time he’d been touched by someone outside of a medical exam in weeks, if not months. The power of it struck him deeply.
Kali’s delicate touch nearly released the soft moan building in his chest. He couldn’t—mustn’t—let her see how much this single moment meant to him. He looked at her eyes as they moved across his hand. Diligent, studied. Their extraordinary bright green making them almost feline. More tigress than tabby, he thought.
Moments later, as he exhaled, he realized he’d been holding his breath while Kali was examining him with clinical indifference—examining the burn mark he’d all but shoved directly in her face. It wasn’t a bad burn. His pride had been hurt more than his hand. Her touch had been more healing than any medicine. Not that he’d ever tell her. She’d be off soon. Like all the good things that came into his life. Just passing through.
Her long lashes flicked up over those green eyes of hers meeting his inquisitive gaze head-on. Could she see how strange this was for him? Being treated as if he weren’t a walking, talking contagious disease? No. It ran deeper than that. She was treating him compassionately. Without the stains of his past woven through her understanding of who he actually was.
“That’s all you’ve got?”
“I’m sorry?” Brodie near enough choked at her about-face, bring-it-on attitude.
“Ebola?” She scoffed. “That’s your best shot?”
Now it was Brodie’s turn to be confused. Was she trying to double bluff him?
“I get a bit of hazing, Dr. McClellan. The less than warm welcome, the mocking about this ridiculous outfit. But seriously...?” She snorted a get real snort, took a step back, her hand still holding his, and gave him a smile wreathed in skepticism. “That’s your best shot at getting me to hightail it back to the mainland, is it? Ebola?”
BRODIE PULLED HIS hand out of Kali’s and received an indignant stare in response.
“What? Now I’m not fit to see to a first-degree burn? I am a qualified GP, I’ll have you know.”
This time there was fire behind her words. She was no pushover. He liked that. Decorum ruled all here on Dunregan and it had never been a good fit for him. It was what had forced him to head out into the world to explore who he could be without That Day branded onto his every move.
Enough with the bitterness, McClellan. You’re not a teenager anymore.
“No, that’s not it at all.” Brodie waved away her presumption, opting to get over himself and just be honest. “I think the booking agency might not have been entirely forthright with you.”
“What are you talking about? Four weeks—with the possibility of an extension. What’s there to know beyond that?” Her forehead crinkled ever so slightly.
“I...” Brodie hesitated, then plunged forward. No point in beating round the bush. “I’ve recently finished my twenty-one-day clearance after three months working in an Ebola hospital. In Africa,” he added, as if it weren’t ruddy obvious where the hospital had been.
Three countries. Thousands dead. He’d wanted to make a difference. Needed to make a difference somewhere—anywhere—before coming back here. And he had done. Small-scale. But he’d been there. A pair of hazmat boots on the ground in a place where “risky” meant that sharing the same air as the person next to you might mean death. Only to come back and face a sea of incriminating