Amy Andrews - Waking Up With Dr Off-Limits

She looked like a professional. Capable. Confident.

She looked all grown up.

‘I’d like to thank you for joining me today,’ he said dragging his gaze from her and getting back on task. ‘Congratulations, you’re all part of a team that’s going to make a huge difference to the lives of nine human beings who would otherwise be outcasts amongst their own people.’

A feeling that she was doing something worthwhile consumed Jess and she started to clap. Others followed and she took the opportunity to look around her at Adam’s team. An anaesthetist, five nurses—three senior, two junior—a surgical registrar and a surgical resident.

She flicked her gaze back to Adam. It was the first time she’d ever seen him in his theatre garb and his magnificence was breathtaking. She’d thought nothing could top the floral sheets but the scrubs definitely made the man.

He looked like every charismatic screen doctor she’d ever watched on television rolled into one. He oozed sexiness and virility and that special brand of confidence that highly skilled surgeons exuded so effortlessly.

In some doctors it would be described as arrogance.

In Adam it was pure self-belief.

‘We’re hoping to begin the three days of surgery in a fortnight,’ Adam continued. ‘There’s a lot of stuff going on behind the scenes—dotting all the Is and crossing all the Ts with the different charities involved and from a humanitarian visa point of view and certainly for Lai Ling, our most complicated case, there needs to be further imaging and bio-modelling to be done before it can go ahead.’

As he spoke Jess was distracted by wisps of his sandy blond hair that had escaped the theatre cap. She was reminded of how it had looked lying against her pillow. All shaggy and badly in need of a cut and crying out to be ruffled.

Gesturing intermittently, his arms also drew her gaze. The blue scrubs were a stark contrast to the deep brown tan that only seemed to accentuate the flex of muscles in his forearms, the dusting of blond hairs unmistakeably masculine.

How was it possible to look so poised and comfortable talking about cutting-edge surgery and yet look like he’d just come in from the beach?

Adam spoke for half an hour, covering all the logistics, and he had his team’s full attention. There were occasional interruptions for questions when pertinent, but otherwise they listened intently. Jess listened too. And not just for the information he conveyed. But the way he conveyed it. The deep sexy timbre of his voice, the effortless way he used wit and humour, the unconscious movement of his body as he gestured with his hands and leaned in towards his team as if gathering them closer.

He wasn’t just a sight to behold. He was exceedingly easy on the ear as well.

The briefing broke up when a journalist and photographer from a weekly women’s magazine arrived at the door. Jess watched Adam stride across the room and greet them, his movie-star smile radiating confidence and charisma.

‘This is Brad Hennegan from Week About ,’ he said, introducing each of his team to the reporter, who was looking a little out of place and very overawed in his scrubs, cap and the blue paper booties he wore over his shoes.

‘Brad’s here to do some publicity shots and will be in and out during the next few weeks as his magazine is doing some feature articles on the project.’

Brad nodded to the assembled staff. ‘I’m looking forward to following the story.’

Adam gestured for Brad and the photographer to precede him out into the corridor. ‘I’ve teed up Theatre Eight with Martha Cosgrove, our nurse manager,’ he said.

Brad nodded. ‘Can I have one of the nursing staff too, perhaps?’ he asked. ‘We want the readers to see it’s a team effort. Get a real feel for how dynamic the operating theatre really is.’

‘Ah, sure,’ Adam said, turning back to the staffroom door just as Jess stepped out.

‘She’ll do,’ Brad said.

Great … ‘Jess?’

Jess felt her pulse kick up a notch as she approached Adam. He had this amazing magnetic pull that was hard to resist. She probably would have gravitated towards him even if she hadn’t been called.

‘What’s up?’ she asked as she drew to a standstill.

‘I was wondering if you’d mind being in a couple of photos with Dr Carmichael?’ Brad asked. ‘Our readers want to know about the nurses involved as well.’

‘Sure.’ She nodded. Her parents, her grandmother and all the folks back home would be tickled pink to see her in the glossy pages of a national magazine.

And if it meant she got to spend more time with Adam then that suited her fine as well. Between her shifts and his social calendar she’d barely seen him since he’d been home.

They all trooped down to theatre eight and Brad chatted with them about the project while the photographer scoped the room out. When Adam divulged that he and Jess were actually housemates as well, Brad became very excited, talking about how it would make another great angle for the photos.

Half an hour later, Jess was thoroughly sick of smiling. They’d had their pictures taken in every place and pose imaginable. Near the operating table, in the anaesthetic room, with trays of instruments and in front of imaging equipment, with their masks on and their masks hanging half off, scrubbing up at the sinks and drying off.

‘Just a couple more,’ Brad said, consulting with the photographer over their cache. ‘How about more casual shots this time? More like two friends, two colleagues having a laugh together after a hard day’s work in the OR?’

Jess thought that Brad watched too much television but if it meant that her facial muscles could soon cop a break then she was game.

‘How’s this?’ Adam asked, slinging an arm casually around Jess’s shoulders.

‘Good, good,’ Brad enthused as the photographer clicked away.

Jess wasn’t so sure about that as her whole body went on alert. Her nipples tightened in her bra and she thanked goodness for the bagginess of her scrubs. All she had to do was a lean a little and her whole side would be pressed against his.

She could smell his clean male aroma, warm and vital in the cool, sterile surroundings, and the urge to turn her face and burrow it into his neck was surprisingly urgent.

‘Now look up at each other,’ Brad instructed to the clicking of the lens. ‘Like it’s been a good day and you’re going home to veg out in front of the tele with a nice cold beer.’

Adam laughed. ‘I usually hit the surf when I get home.’

‘Okay, that’s good.’ Brad nodded. ‘What about you, Jess? What do you like to do when you get home?’

Wait for Adam to come home from the surf in his wet boardies.

Jess swallowed. ‘This time of the day I usually head to the Stat Bar, meet the girls for a drink.’

Adam laughed. ‘You mean perv at the guys that jog by with no shirts on.’

Jess gasped and looked up at Adam. ‘We do not.’ Well, she didn’t anyway. And the other three didn’t any more either.

‘Ruby reckons that’s exactly what you all do.’ He grinned.

The teasing light in his eyes twinkled at her and his smile was so sincere she found herself smiling back. ‘Well, maybe occasionally,’ she admitted.

He laughed and she laughed back, his hand light on her shoulder.

‘Perfect.’ Brad beamed as the photographer nodded at him. ‘Perfect.’

Fifteen minutes later Jess was stepping out of the front door of the hospital in the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn to work, her hair in its regulation ponytail. She sucked in a deep, satisfying breath.

Working in a windowless environment after growing up in the wide open spaces of the outback was something she just couldn’t get used to and she never took that first breath of fresh air for granted.