Scarlet Wilson - Locked Down With The Army Doc - Locked Down with the Army Doc / The Brooding Surgeon's Baby Bombshell

And then she spoke. “I’m trying to work out if you’re drunk or just in a coma. I’m warning you—I’m off duty tonight.”

The corners of his lips headed upward. Maybe he was imagining all this? Maybe he was already dreaming? Or maybe the jet lag was making him see things. If this was a hallucination, those words were so not what he was expecting. He let out a laugh. “I could actually be a bit of both. Jet lag and drinking—” he held up the whiskey glass “—are probably not the best idea in the world. But do I care right now?” He shook his head as he downed the remains at the bottom of the glass. “Not really.”

Now she laughed as the bartender came over and set a coaster in front of her. “Well, the jet lag explains the accent. But not the complete disregard for your fellow man.”

The bartender caught her eye. “What can I get you?”

She looked at his glass. “I’ll have what Mr. Happy’s having.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at the bartender. “Better just put both on my tab.”

She drummed her fingernails on the bar next to him. “Who said I wanted you to buy my drink?” Her overall presentation was quite glamorous but her nails were short and clean. Curious. Most women these days tended to have glittery painted talons.

“Don’t drink it,” he said smartly. “I can easily drink both.”

She smiled. A genuine, wide smile. The pink tips of her hair matched the bright pink on her lips.

“You are easily the most crabbit man in the room.” She gave a wink. “Is that Scottish enough for you? I learned that from a Scottish colleague.”

He tried not to smile as he nodded his head and furrowed his brow. “It’s a well-used word. My granny might have called a few people crabbit in her time.”

She gave a smile. “Yeah, crabbit. I like that. It means you won’t be a pest.”

“But you will be.”

“Ouch,” she said as the bartender brought over the drinks.

She lifted the glass to her nose and sniffed. “What is this, anyhow?”

“Guess.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Oh...guessing games. I know it’s whiskey. I’ve just no idea what kind. And here was me thinking tonight was going to be totally boring.”

He liked her. He was actually beginning to wake up a little. But that still didn’t stop him putting his head on the bar for a few seconds. He closed his eyes and murmured, “I’m dreaming of snacks. I’ve only eaten airline food for the last twenty-eight hours. And you’ve stolen the peanuts.”

She was still sniffing the whiskey but laughed anyway and grabbed a bar menu. “Haven’t you ordered?”

He sighed as he lifted his head again. “I think I ordered around ten hours ago. Apparently the kitchen is busy, but—” his fingers made the quote signal in the air “—it’ll get here soon.”

She set down the whiskey glass and gestured to the bartender. “Actually, can you give me a glass of rosé wine instead, please?” She gave Jack a sideways glance as she pushed the glass toward him. “This is too rich for my tastes.”

He was still leaning on his hand. After a few hours in a fugue, his brain was kick-starting again, along with his dormant libido.

“I’ve never really met anyone like you before,” he murmured.

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a pickup line?”

He laughed. “I’m too tired and too lazy to try and pick you up, right now. But, hey, look me up tomorrow. I’ll probably have a whole new lease of life.”

“With those circles under your eyes, I doubt you’re even going to see tomorrow. I bet you sleep right through.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. I have to see tomorrow. I’m speaking—at the conference.” He gestured behind her. “I should probably be in there right now, trying to charm my way around the room and into a new job.”

“You’re looking for a new job?” She gave a half smile. “What? Been fired from everywhere in Scotland?”

The bartender set down her wine in front of her, along with the biggest burger and plate of fries Jack had seen in forever. He couldn’t help it. “Praise be. Food of the gods.”

She sipped her wine and he could feel her watching him with interest as he snagged a fry. “I’m warning you. Try and put any of this in an evidence bag and I’ll have to wrestle you to the floor.”

She pushed up from her bar stool, leaning over to steal one of his fries. “You Scots guys. You think you’re tough. You ain’t got nothing on a girl from Milwaukee.”

She bit into the fry and nodded. “Better than it looks. And, because it came fresh from the kitchen, I won’t tell you any horror stories about it. I save them for the bar snacks.”

Her stomach growled loudly and he couldn’t help but laugh again.

He picked up his knife. “Okay, then, mystery woman. Since you’re obviously the least boring person in the room, I’ll make a deal and share with you.” He waved the knife at her. “But let’s be clear. This isn’t normal behavior for me. I’m just too tired to fight.”

He cut the burger in half and pushed her half toward her. “But no more insults. And—” he looked down at her long legs “—I still think I could take you.”

She picked up her half. He liked that. A woman who didn’t pussyfoot around her food. “Okay, then. Because I’m starved and can’t be bothered to wait for room service, I’ll take your offer.” She gave him a sideways look. “You haven’t even told me your name.”

He nodded as he poised the burger at his lips. “Kinda like it that way.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Me too.”

She waited a second then added, “Are you really here looking for a job?”

He waited until he’d finished chewing. “I’m still officially in employment for the next two weeks. After that?” He held out one hand. “The world is my oyster. I’ve had a couple of offers. Haven’t decided whether to take them up or not.”

“Don’t you need a paycheck?”

He paused for a second. “Of course I do. But right now, it’s more important I take the right job, rather than just the first one that comes along.”

She studied him for a few seconds. He could see a whole host of questions spinning around in her brain, but she was far too smart to ask. Instead she grinned as she stole another fry. “Makes you sound old.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

He shook his head. “I’m not old. I’m just...well-worn.”

She laughed again as she took another sip of wine. “At what? Thirty? Thirty-five?”

He choked. “Thirty-five?” He patted one of his cheeks. “Wow. I was really conned by that moisturizer. I wonder if it’s got a money-back guarantee.”

He leaned a little closer. “I’ll have you know I have a whole ten days before I reach the grand old age of thirty-five.”

He narrowed his gaze as he looked at her again. “But two can play at that game.” He gave a slow nod and took his time letting his gaze go up and down her length. “I’m guessing, forty? Forty-six?”

She let out a little shriek. “Forty-six! Oh, no way, buster. You’ve had it now.” She leaned over him again, her soft skin brushing against his as she lifted the whole bowl of fries out of his reach.

“Not the fries!”

She perched the bowl in her lap and nodded solemnly. “Surely you know a woman of my maturity needs to keep her strength up.”

He liked her. He liked her a lot. The room opposite was full of anxious glances and too much “my qualifications are better than yours.” Too many people wanting to talk about how wonderful they were as loudly as they could.

Jack was here for one reason. To present his research. To let people know he’d found something that had made a huge difference in a wartime setting. The difference between life and death.