Page 17 of One Night with the Doctor

What was she doing? Was she trying to look nice for him? Nope. She would not do that. They were not in a relationship and neither were they going to be. She would start as she meant to go on – treating him as a colleague and pretending what had happened hadn’t happened at all.

She was thirty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake! And he was just a man. They were there to work and work only, not make goo-goo eyes at each other. It was imperative that she acted like a professional and forgot all about that night and the pillow talk that was making her feel unaccountably anxious.

Hopefully he’d get the message that their one-night stand was off-limits. And if he didn’t, she’d just have to make it crystal clear.

Sebastian looked across the room as Callie – fierce, proud, warrior-woman Callie – strode into his new place of work with her head held high. She was wearing the same sort of clothes she’d worn on the bridge that fateful day. Loose-fitting jeans and a roomy T-shirt in a rusty-brown that set off the honey highlights in her hair.

While there were no uniforms in community mental health, an ID tag hung from a lanyard around her neck and bounced against her breasts. Sensible flat shoes and a large black bag completed the picture. She looked every inch the professional. Poised and confident, ready for another day at the coal face. A far cry from the sexy clothes she’d worn to the restaurant.

The ones that had ended up scattered all over his floor.

As she approached, her bag swung hypnotically against her hip, drawing his gaze lower and distracting him from Geraldine’s very fascinating explanation of the appointment system. He had kissed that hip. Those thighs.

Those long legs had locked around his waist.

His gaze travelled up again, her necklace peeking out from the V of her neckline. Moonlight had glinted off that pendant as he had pounded into her, he had trekked the path of the chain with his tongue.

‘Good morning, Sebastian,’ she said briskly, folding her arms across her chest.

He nodded, ignoring the way the action emphasised her breasts. ‘Callie.’

‘I see our new grandmother’s giving you the tour?’

Tahlia had given birth to a whopping baby boy three hours after Geri had left the restaurant.

‘Not any more she’s not.’ Geri grinned, tapping her watch. ‘I have a breakfast meeting with the government community mental health advisor.’ She walked the two paces to her desk to gather some files. ‘Can you show Seb around? Take him out with you later today, too. The sooner he gets to know the local area the better.’

Geri didn’t wait for Callie to agree and Sebastian hid a smile as Callie gaped after her boss obviously not keen on playing babysitter. She was careful not to show it though as she turned to him with a neutral expression and said, ‘Seb, huh?’

He shrugged. ‘Most people call me Seb.’

She frowned at him then, or more specifically at the buttons on his crisp white shirt like they’d offended her somehow.

‘You might want to think about dressing a bit more informally,’ she said, stiffly. ‘I’m sure a man with your reputation must have a debonair image to maintain, and in private practice clients probably expect spiffy. But, trust me, in the community there are no expectations and most of our clients find it easier to relate to casual dress.’

Sebastian looked her up and down again. He really did mean just to take an inventory of her casual dress but his eyes refused to move quickly, lingering on her thighs and breasts. Her prickliness didn’t faze him – it was just part of the puzzling patchwork woman in front of him. ‘Casual. Check.’

She swallowed. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she ordered crankily, lowering her voice even though they were the only ones around.

Sebastian gave a half smile. ‘Like what?’

Shoving her hand on her hip, she glared at him. ‘You damn well know like what.’

‘Sorry.’ He held his hands up in a surrender motion. ‘I’d forgotten how… great you look.’

Taking a deep breath, Callie’s eyes flicked around the room, checking they were still alone. ‘Don’t, okay? Just don’t. Don’t look at me like that and don’t think about the other night. You and I are going to pretend it never happened. We’re going to forget about it. Okay?’

He regarded her for a moment as if he was weighing up what he wanted to say. ‘You do know that what happened, the things we did and said, are private between us, right? I would never break your confidence.’

‘I should bloody hope not,’ she said waspishly even though she was relieved by his reassurance.

Callie knew discussions between psychologist and client were confidential but she wasn’t his patient – they’d fucked – and pillow talk wasn’t governed by the Hippocratic oath.

‘But if you think I’m going to forget about that night—’ His voice dropped lower. ‘The things we did, the things we talked about – you’re wrong. I know how hard that was for you and I understand that at work you need to be able to put that side of you away and be the bolshie professional. And I also understand that we’re not going to happen again. But I’m not into denial and I will not pretend or forget it happened.’

It was said gently but his tone held an unmistakable air of command as he looked at Callie with calm authority. Like he had when she’d mistaken him for a cop, all brooding and serious in his flak jacket. Like he did in his author photo on the back dust jacket of his book, which Callie had purchased and looked at obsessively the last few days.

His quiet words hit her in the chest with an impact that belied their volume. She should have known after their altercation on the bridge that Sebastian wouldn’t be pushed around easily.