Amy Andrews - Rescued by the Dreamy Doc

Noelene looked at her. ‘I was just looking down at the water, minding my own business.’ She frowned. ‘And this cop car pulled up, telling me not to jump…I had no intention of jumping. But they were yelling and coming towards me and I got scared.’

‘I know. Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted. I’ll be with you.’

‘I need to be there to pick the kids up from school.’

‘Yep. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you, expediting the process.’

They reached the barricade. What’s-his-name held out his hand for Noelene and helped her through the maze of barricades. Callie was grudgingly impressed by his gentle smile and his unhurried demeanour as he made sure Noelene didn’t trip.

Then he turned back to her. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, holding out his hand.

Callie’s gaze locked with his and she felt a giddy shift—not something she welcomed, standing on a bridge.

But, damn, the man was sexy. His frank gaze, his lips curled into a slight smile, his height and breadth surrounding her, his voice oozing over her like warm honey.

The background noises faded, their surroundings dimmed, as time and motion coalesced in this one electric moment. If they’d been in a bar she would have taken his hand and led him to the nearest dark corner.

But they weren’t. They were on a bridge—a damn bridge, for crying out loud—surrounded by what seemed like a hundred policemen. She ignored the hand. ‘All in a days work.’

‘Hey, Zack, how’s it going?’ Callie asked, the phone pressed to one ear as she blindly hooked a hoop earring into her other ear.

‘Good thanks, Aunty Cal.’

Callie smiled at her ten-year-old nephew’s chirpy greeting. It was good to hear her little man’s voice. Since he’d gone back to live with his mother a couple of months ago she hadn’t known what to do with herself. Some of the anxiety that had knotted her stomach over the heart-wrenching decision had dissipated, but after eight years in her care, it was hard to let go entirely.

And he would always be her brother’s son.

‘How’d you do in the cross-country today?’

‘I came second! You should have seen me, Aunty Cal.’

Callie’s heart strings twanged painfully. She hadn’t missed a school event since he’d started pre-school six years ago. But she was trying to step back, give Aleisha a chance to bond with her son.

‘Mummy said I ran like the wind.’

Callie gripped the receiver hard. Her brother, Zack’s father, had been an athletics champion at school. He’d had such promise.

Until everything had gone wrong.

‘I bet you did, my Za Za.’ She smiled.

Her nickname for him fell easily from her lips but sat very uneasily in her churning gut. She wanted him here with her again with a startling ferocity. She wanted to put her arms around his skinny shoulders and hug him tight.

Like the polite little boy she raised him to be, he asked, ‘How was your day, Aunty Cal? How many people did you help?’

She smiled at how grown-up he sounded. Callie knew that Zack was very proud of the way his aunt helped people like his father—even if he didn’t really have an understanding of what that meant.

‘Zillions,’ she joked, and laughed as Zack’s boyish giggle warmed her down the phone line.

He was too young to tell him about her day. About her morning on the very bridge his father had thrown himself off eight years earlier. Zack had never really known his dad and that wasn’t the way Callie wanted him to remember Andy anyway.

She hung up a few minutes later just as a horn beeped outside. Callie looked at her watch. Argh! She was running late and two earrings did not make her dressed for dinner!

Sebastian thought he’d actually conjured her up when Callie Duncan appeared in front of him at the restaurant. After all, she’d rarely been out of his head since that morning so seeing her in the flesh again seemed almost natural.

‘We meet again,’ he murmured, taking in her sexy pin-striped trousers, soft, white, collared blouse with a deep V neck, and very large frown.

‘Oh, hi.’ Callie’s mouth dried as she took in the commanding redhead from the bridge and turned to Gerri. What the hell was he doing there?

Geraldine raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve met?’

‘Er…yes, um…He…That is…’ She gestured to the man with that floppy fringe and that voice and that stare and whose name she still couldn’t remember. She could hardly call him what’s-his-name to his face!

Sebastian quirked a brow and smiled at her verbal groping. ‘Sebastian,’ he supplied. ‘Or Seb. I answer to both.’

Callie nodded, relieved. For a moment. And then realisation slowly dawned. Sebastian?

Uh-oh.

Sebastian Walker?

‘Sebastian was the negotiator today,’ she said automatically as her sluggish brain tried to catch up.

She glanced at him and the intenseness of his gaze stole her breath. It was still there, that thing from this morning. Big and large and growing between them as she took in his casual dress shirt, the rolled-up sleeves, the top two undone buttons.

‘At the bridge,’ she added completely unnecessarily.

‘Huh, what a coincidence,’ Gerri said, looking from one to the other. ‘Well, as you know, as of next week, he’s the new temporary psychologist at Jambalyn.’

He was Donna’s maternity leave replacement?

Sebastian Walker? The Sebastian Walker. One of the most eminent and renowned young psychologists in the country? Who’d written the modern-day bible on PTSD?

She hadn’t quite been able to believe it when Gerri had told them that he’d applied for the one-year relief position in their lowly community mental health centre. It was even harder to believe that he was the man from the bridge.

And she’d flashed him!

Callie sat, frowning, still not quite figuring it out. She felt like a complete airhead. ‘So, you’re not a cop?’

She’d just assumed this morning…

It would have been much easier if he had been. She could have put him in a neat little box. Police officer. Off-limits. She did not sleep with cops. She did not trade hot looks or share silent vibes with them. She did not give them any encouragement at all.

Never.

Cops were off-limits. Her reputation was paramount and cops were, after all, by and large, a great big boys’ club. And, as with a lot of boys, bragging often got the better of them. A close friend of hers had found that out the hard way.

Of course, work colleague should have sent up a big red flag as well. But frying in the knowing heat of his stare, it came a poor second.

Sebastian shook his head. ‘Afraid not.’ He grinned. ‘I have experience in hostage negotiation. The police, like a lot of organisations, sometimes outsource. I’ve worked as a civilian negotiator for different police forces from time to time. The Queensland police were eager to have me.’

Of course. Revolutionising psychotherapy for prisoners and being a leading expert in PTSD obviously weren’t enough feathers in his cap!

He shrugged. ‘The pager rarely goes off.’

‘Lucky me,’ she murmured, dropping her gaze, desperate to break the incendiary connection she felt every time she looked at him.

This could not be happening! She’d really been looking forward to tonight. To meeting him and to working with him, but with his frank gaze prickling awareness across her skin she wasn’t so sure.

It felt dangerous.

And she was no adrenaline junkie.

‘Speaking of which,’ Christopher Martell, another of Jambalyn’s psych nurses, butted in. ‘We heard you flashed every cop in Brisbane this morning. I think the news helicopters even got a gawk. You’re quite the talk of the town.’