Australian Affairs: Claimed

‘What? You don’t think she’s competent?’ Greg asked, frowning over the rim of his coffee cup.

Jake released a breath and rubbed at the tight muscles at the back of his neck. Maybe he’d laid it on a bit strong. It wouldn’t do to sound too defensive. ‘No, I’m not saying that. She’s conscientious—a little too much so if anything. She’s eager to learn and the patients like her. She’ll find her feet soon enough.’

‘Might be just what she needs to boost her confidence,’ Greg said. ‘A meaningless affair with a man she won’t think twice about leaving when it’s time to say goodbye.’

‘I’m not putting my hand up for the job just yet,’ Jake said. ‘Not unless I hand over a thousand bucks to one of my sisters.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I made a bet with her over Christmas dinner,’ Jake said. ‘No sex for three months.’

Greg’s brows rose. ‘So how’s that working out for you?’

Jake gave him a rueful look as he shouldered open the door. ‘Let’s put it this way,’ he said. ‘I’m spending a whole lot more time at the gym.’

CHAPTER FIVE

JAKE was on his way back to his town house after a heavy session at the gym when he saw Kitty in the car park, washing a car that had seen better days. She was wearing a pair of shorts that ended at mid-thigh and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, swinging from side to side as she rubbed the soapy sponge over the duco of her four-cylinder vehicle. She looked young and nubile and so sexy he felt a surge of lust go through him like a rocket blast. Her small but perfect breasts were outlined behind the clingy dampness of her T-shirt, and every time she bent over he caught a delectable glimpse of her creamy flesh. She was humming to herself—a tune he was familiar with but couldn’t quite place. She had a hose in her other hand and it was spraying water all over the concrete, running in wasteful rivulets down the storm water drain.

‘I hate to take on the role of the fun police but you can’t do that around here,’ he said.

She jumped and turned around so quickly the high-pressure hose in her hand shot him straight in the groin with a blast of cold water.

He let out a stiff curse as he stepped out of the line of fire. ‘What the hell?’

‘Sorry,’ she said, pointing the hose at the ground, where it sprayed water all over the concrete at her feet. ‘I didn’t hear you. You scared the wits out of me, coming from nowhere like that.’

He frowned in irritation as he brushed off what water he could from his sodden gym shorts. ‘Will you turn off the damn hose, for God’s sake?’

She gave her head a little toss that sent her ponytail swinging again. ‘I’m washing my new car.’

‘You can’t use a hose to do that.’

‘Why ever not?’ she asked, looking at him defiantly. ‘How else am I supposed to wash it? Lick it clean?’

Jake looked at her mouth—a habit of his just lately that he couldn’t seem to break. He could think of places he would much rather have her lick with her tongue than the dusty duco of her second-hand bomb. ‘We have water restrictions here,’ he said. ‘You can’t use a hose to water the garden or wash your car during summer. You have to use a bucket. If you get caught there are hefty fines.’

‘Oh…’ She looked at the running hose and bit down on her lip. ‘I didn’t realise.’

Jake moved over to turn the hose off at the tap, asking over his shoulder. ‘Where did you get the car?’

Her chin came up a fraction. ‘I bought it.’

He came over and ran a hand over the dented paintwork of the front fender. ‘How much did you pay for it?’ he asked.

She pursed her lips for a tiny heartbeat. ‘It wasn’t expensive,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to spend a fortune because I’m only going to be using it for three months.’

‘Let’s hope it lasts that long,’ Jake said, kicking one of the threadbare tyres with his right foot.

‘I’m sure it’s perfectly fine,’ she said, with a little flash of her grey gaze.

‘Did you take it for a test drive?’

Her eyes flickered a little, as if something behind them had come loose. ‘I drove it around the block at the owner’s house and then back to here,’ she said. ‘It ran smoothly enough.’

Jake grunted. ‘Good luck on restarting it.’

Her lips went tight again. ‘I’m sure it will start first go,’ she said. ‘It’s only had one owner.’

‘How many clicks on the clock?’

A little frown pulled at her brow. ‘Clicks?’

‘Kilometres.’

‘Oh…’ She nibbled at her lip again and stepped past him to peer through the driver’s window. ‘Forty-two thousand.’

Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Make that two hundred and forty-two thousand—maybe even more.’

She frowned at him again. ‘What do you mean?’

‘That model is ten years old,’ he said. ‘Even a little old lady only driving to church on Sundays would’ve clicked up more than that. You’ve been sold a lemon, Dr Cargill. Someone’s turned the clock back on it for sure.’

She shifted her eyes from his to the car and back again. ‘I suppose you think I’m gullible,’ she said with a hint of defiance.

‘Have you ever bought a car before?’ Jake asked.

‘I…’ Her slim throat rose and fell as she swallowed. ‘I used to share one. I lived close to the hospital in London so I didn’t really need one of my own.’

Jake gave the windscreen wipers a quick inspection. ‘These need replacing,’ he said, dusting his hands on his shorts. ‘I can get a new set of rubbers for you from a mate of mine. He owns an auto parts shop.’

‘I wouldn’t want to put you or your friend to any bother,’ she said, looking resentful and yet vulnerable and adorably cute all at the same time.

‘It’s no trouble,’ Jake said. ‘You’ll need new tyres soon too. That rear one is practically bald.’

She worked at her bottom lip again with her teeth, looking at the car with a defeated look on her expressive heart-shaped face.

‘Don’t worry,’ Jake said. ‘I’m sure it’ll get you to the hospital and back all right. But I wouldn’t take it on any long journeys until you’ve had it checked by a mechanic. I can give you the name of one who’ll take care of it for you without ripping you off.’

‘Thank you…’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a discomfited gesture.

‘I’ll get you a bucket,’ he said. ‘I have one in my garage.’

‘Please don’t bother,’ she said.

‘It’s no bother.’ Jake walked towards his garage and, fishing his remote out of his shorts pocket, activated the roller door. He ducked his head as the door was rising and grabbed the bucket next to his toolbox. ‘Can’t leave a job half done, now, can we?’ he said as he took the bucket over to the tap and filled it.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

Jake took the sponge from her hand, watching as her eyes flared when his fingers brushed against hers. ‘Stand back,’ he said with a lopsided smile. ‘This is no job for a lady.’

‘I’m not sure what gives you the impression I’m completely rubbish at taking care of the simplest tasks,’ she said, bristling like a pedigree Persian cat in front of a scruffy mongrel dog. ‘But I’ll have you know I can wash a car all by myself.’

Jake moved past her stiff little body to soap up the bonnet of the car. ‘It won’t take a minute,’ he said. ‘You’re too short to reach the roof in any case.’

She stood back with her arms folded crossly, her plump mouth pushed forward in a pout. ‘That’s why I was using the hose,’ she said, shooting him a look.

‘Yeah, well, don’t blame the drought on me,’ Jake said, bending over to re-soap the sponge. ‘I suppose you don’t have to wash cars in England.’

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

‘Doesn’t it rain all the time?’ he asked as he cleaned the rooftop of the car.

‘Not all the time,’ she said, with a hint of defensiveness.

A little silence passed.

‘Have you been to Britain?’ she asked.

Jake squatted down to soap up the rim of the nearest tyre. He thought of the ticket to London he’d had to cancel when he’d found out about Rosie’s pregnancy. He’d only planned to go for a couple of months the year after he’d finished medical school. He’d organised for Robbie to stay with a reliable family and the girls with friends. He had counted the days until his first real holiday free of responsibility. But when Rosie had tearfully confessed her predicament he had cancelled his trip and had never got around to booking another.

‘It’s on my list of things to do.’

‘Have you been to Europe?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘I thought a man like you would have gone far and wide to sow your wild oats.’

Jake straightened and tossed the sponge in the bucket like a basketball player landing a game-winning shot. ‘It hasn’t been a priority,’ he said. ‘Australia’s plenty big enough and exciting enough for me.’

‘That’s rather parochial of you, don’t you think?’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘I figure there’ll be plenty of time for me to travel the world when I get other stuff out of the way.’

‘What other stuff?’ she asked. ‘Career stuff? Surely it’s in your interests career-wise to have lived and worked overseas as so many of your colleagues do?’

Jake emptied the bucket and rinsed out the sponge at the tap. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘To further your career?’

Her eyes moved out of range of his. ‘Of course it is.’

He picked up the bucket of rinsing water. ‘Three months isn’t very long,’ he said as he set to work on the car again.

‘It’s long enough.’

‘To further your career or mend a broken heart?’

The air stiffened in silence.

‘I haven’t got a broken heart,’ she said.

Jake looked at her over the top of the car. ‘Looks like it to me.’

She straightened her slumped shoulders and sent him one of her Jane Austen looks. ‘And I suppose you know all the signs because you’ve broken so many female hearts yourself,’ she said.

‘I haven’t broken any just lately,’ he said. ‘Anyway, it’s not something I set out to do deliberately.’

She gave a little laugh that was not even a distant cousin to humour. ‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said, kicking at one of the tyres with her foot. ‘My ex claimed he didn’t do it on purpose, either.’

‘How long were you together?’ Jake asked.

She let out a long sigh before she faced him. ‘For ever.’

He came back around to her side and leaned against the car. ‘Want to talk about it?’

Her eyes skittered away from his. ‘Not particularly.’

‘I take it he found someone else?’ Jake said.

Her gaze was glazed with bitterness, like a coating of shellac. ‘My best friend.’

‘Ouch,’ he said, wincing in empathy. ‘That would’ve hurt.’

‘It did.’ She bit her lip until the blood drained away. ‘It does…’

Jake hardly realised he had moved away from the car and put a hand on the top of her slim shoulder until he felt the lightning strike shock of the contact run up his arm from the cup of his palm.

Her eyes met his and locked.

Electricity zapped and fired.

Desire roared through his veins like a runaway freight train. He could see the answering flare in her grey gaze. He felt the gentle shudder of her flesh beneath his hand. He stood mesmerised as the tip of her tongue snaked out and brushed over her soft lips in a single heartbeat of time that seemed immeasurable.

He lowered his head fraction by fraction, frame by frame, like a film being played in slow motion. The stop signals and flashing red lights in the rational side of his brain were overruled by the need to taste the sweet pillow of her mouth, to press against those soft contours and forget about everything but the sensual energy that flowed in a spine-tingling current between them.

He cupped his other palm against the soft satiny curve of her cheek, watching as her serious smoky grey eyes registered the contact with a dilation of her pupils.

Her lips parted slightly, her vanilla-scented breath tantalising him as he came even closer.

The dark fan of her eyelashes lowered over her eyes, but just as he was about to make contact her eyes suddenly sprang open and she stumbled backwards out of his light hold.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘I can’t do this.’

Jake gave a casual whatever shrug and put his hands out of temptation’s way in the pockets of his shorts. ‘No problem,’ he said.

She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment, actively avoiding his gaze. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me…’

‘My bad,’ Jake said. ‘I overstepped the line. Blame my sister Rosie.’

She cautiously met his gaze. ‘Your…sister?’

‘I’m trying to win a bet,’ he said. ‘No sex this summer. I’ve just about made it too. Only twenty-two days to go.’

Her cheeks turned rosy red. ‘How morally upright of you,’ she said. ‘So come the first of March anyone is pretty much fair game?’

He gave her a glinting look. ‘I do have some standards.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said with her customary hauteur. ‘A strong working pulse. I almost forgot.’

Jake smiled wryly as he picked up his bucket. ‘Do you want me to run a chamois over your car to dry it off?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you,’ she said, with schoolmarmish primness.

He tapped the bonnet with his hand. ‘Give me a shout if you need a jump start in the morning,’ he said. ‘I have the necessary equipment.’

‘I’m quite sure I won’t be needing any of your equipment,’ she said, that dainty chin going up another notch.

‘Well,’ Jake said, giving her a deliberately smouldering look, ‘you know where it is if and when you do.’

CHAPTER SIX

KITTY was putting her things in the locker in the staff changing room the next morning when one of the nurses on duty came in.

‘Hi, Dr Cargill,’ the nurse said. ‘I’m Cathy Oxley. I haven’t been rostered on with you yet. How are you settling in?’

‘Fine,’ Kitty said. ‘It’s a bit of a steep learning curve. I’m still finding my feet.’

Cathy’s brown eyes twinkled meaningfully. ‘I’m sure our gorgeous boss is helping you with that after hours.’

Kitty felt her cheeks heat up. ‘I’m not sure what you mean by that,’ she said, closing her locker door with a little rattle. ‘I’m not seeing Dr Chandler after hours.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ Cathy said. ‘I must have got my wires crossed. I could’ve sworn someone said you two were dating. Mind you, it would be a first for him if you were.’

‘A first?’ Kitty frowned. ‘In what way?’

‘I don’t think he’s ever dated anyone on his immediate staff before,’ Cathy said as she stored her bag in a locker two doors away from Kitty’s. She closed and locked the locker and turned back to face Kitty. ‘One of the nurses last year actually asked for a transfer to another department so he would take her out. Not that it lasted all that long. But that’s Jake-break-your-heart-Chandler for you. It’ll be a very special woman indeed who manages to lure him to an altar any time soon.’

Kitty turned and worked on smoothing over her tightly restrained hair in front of the mirror. ‘Not all men are cut out for the responsibility of commitment and marriage,’ she said. ‘It’s all a matter of maturity.’

‘I don’t think Jake would like to hear you describe him as immature,’ Cathy said with a little chuckle.

‘Men can be commitment-shy for all sorts of reasons, I guess. Particularly if they haven’t had a great experience of commitment in their own family.’

‘Jake doesn’t talk about his background,’ Cathy said. ‘He’s a bit of dark horse in that regard. I know he’s got siblings. His brother’s just as gorgeous in looks, apparently. A younger sister of one of the nurses on the neuro ward went out with him a couple of times.’

‘Looks aren’t everything,’ Kitty said. ‘What about character and values?’

‘Our Jake’s got those as well,’ Cathy said. ‘You just have to go searching for them. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.’

‘Has he even got a heart?’ Kitty asked with an arch of one of her brows.

Cathy grinned as she shouldered open the locker room door. ‘Last time I looked—but who knows? Maybe someone’s stolen it by now.’

Kitty had barely been on the floor of the unit thirty seconds when Jake Chandler informed her there was a critical incident unfolding right outside the A&E department.

‘Two teenagers have been knocked down by a car,’ he said, issuing orders to the nurses on duty as he strode through. ‘Cathy, Tanya, get airway and trauma kits, hard collars, IV equipment and spinal boards.’

Kitty followed Jake and Lei and four nurses out to the street outside the A&E receiving area, where the police were diverting the traffic and securing the scene from bystanders.

She felt her heart pounding behind the framework of her ribs. She was used to dealing with patients in the unit, not out on the street. She had never attended a real accident, only mock-up ones.

Two kids—a girl and a boy—in their mid-teens were lying on the road. Horns were blaring. Sirens were screaming and lights were flashing. People were screaming and shouting. The police were doing their best to control the scene, but it was nothing short of mayhem given it was smack-bang in the middle of peak hour.

‘Dr Cargill,’ said Jake, calmly but with unmistakable authority. ‘Take Cathy and Tanya and do a primary survey on the girl and tell me what equipment you need. Lei, take Lara and Tim and get started on the boy.’

Kitty started her assessment of the girl who was unconscious. ‘AVPU is P,’ she said. ‘I don’t have an airway.’

‘Get the neck stable and get her intubated,’ Jake ordered.

Kitty felt a flutter of panic rush through her stomach like a rapidly shuffled deck of cards. ‘I can maintain her airway without intubating her out here.’

‘You need to secure the airway and get the rest of the primary survey done now,’ Jake said. ‘We’re not moving her until she’s assessed. Do you want me to intubate her?’

‘No,’ Kitty said, mentally crossing her fingers and her toes. ‘I can manage.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Get it done and then give me the primary survey.’ He turned to the registrar. ‘Lei, what’s your assessment?’

‘GCS thirteen, Dr Chandler,’ Lei said. ‘Airway patent, multiple fractured right ribs and a flail segment. Probably right pneumothorax. Pulse one-twenty, BP one hundred on sixty. No external bleeding.’

Kitty kept working on her patient, wishing she were half as confident as the registrar appeared to be.

She tried to focus.

To keep calm.

This was not the time to doubt her skills. She had been trained for this. She had worked on similar cases inside A&E.

Come on, she gave herself a little pep talk. You’ve intubated loads of patients before. Why should this one be any different?

‘Good work, Lei,’ Jake was saying. ‘Is it a tension pneumothorax?’

‘No tension, Dr Chandler,’ Lei said. ‘Fair air entry and no mediastinal shift.’

‘Brilliant,’ Jake said. ‘Get a collar on and do a quick secondary survey. Log roll and check the spine. If that’s all, pack him up onto the spinal board, get in a cannula, get him inside and continue in there.’

‘Will do.’

Kitty could feel the sweat pouring down between her shoulderblades as she tried again to intubate the girl. The sun was burning down like a blowtorch on the top of her scalp. Panic was no longer fluttering in the pit of her stomach; it was flapping like a bedsheet in a hurricane-force wind.

This was not a dummy patient.

This was someone’s daughter, someone’s little girl, someone’s sister and someone’s friend. If this young girl died someone’s life—many people’s lives—would be shattered.

The sun burned even more fiercely and the trickle of sweat down between the straps of her bra became a torrent. Her head started to pound as if a construction site had taken up residence inside. The sunlight was so bright her vision blurred. She blinked and white flashes floated past her eyes like silverfish.

‘What’s the problem?’ Jake asked as he came over.

‘This is not the ideal environment to do an intubation,’ Kitty muttered in frustration. ‘It’s too bright and I can’t see the cords.’

‘Accidents don’t happen in ideal environments, Dr Cargill,’ he said. ‘We’re not moving her until the airway and neck is secured. You stabilise her neck while I intubate.’

Kitty moved aside as Jake came around to the head of the patient and took over the laryngoscope. ‘Hold the head from below,’ he ordered.

She did as he directed and watched as he inserted the laryngoscope. It was genuinely a difficult task, which should have made Kitty feel less of a failure, but it was pretty obvious Jake had had extensive training and was far more experienced at resuscitating on site. Everything he did he did with cool and calm confidence. He kept his emotions in check. Not a muscle on his face showed any sign of personal distress or crisis. He was simply getting on with the job.

‘Listen to the chest, Dr Cargill,’ he said. ‘What’s the air entry?’

Kitty listened to the patient’s chest. ‘There’s no air entry on the right and mediastinal shift to the left.’

‘Get a needle in the chest,’ he said. ‘We can put a chest tube in inside.’ He called out to the nurse. ‘Kate—here. Ventilate the patient while I get the collar back on and get a drip in.’

Finally the patients were transferred inside and taken to ICU once stabilised.

‘Good work, everyone,’ Jake said, stripping off his gloves and tossing them in the bin.

Kitty couldn’t help feeling she didn’t deserve to be included in that statement. She concentrated on washing her hands at the basin, hanging her aching head down, feeling the sweat still sticky beneath her clothes.

‘You too, Dr Cargill,’ Jake said as he reached for some paper towels alongside her basin. ‘That was a tough call.’

Kitty looked up at him. ‘I was out of my depth and you know it,’ she said.

‘You’ll get better once you do EMST,’ he said. ‘It’s all a matter of confidence. The same skills apply inside here or outside there.’

‘I was nearly roasted alive out there,’ she said. ‘It looked like you didn’t even break a sweat.’

His dark blue gaze scanned her flushed face. ‘You look like you caught the sun,’ he said. ‘Your nose is a little pink.’

‘Great,’ she said with a rueful grimace. ‘More freckles.’

‘Kisses from the sun,’ he said. ‘Or so my mother called them when I was a kid.’

‘But you don’t have any freckles.’

The corner of his mouth tipped up and a glint appeared in his eyes. ‘None that you can see.’

Kitty flushed to the roots of her hair but stalwartly held his gaze. ‘I’ll pass on the guided tour, thanks very much,’ she said.

‘I wasn’t offering one.’

His blue eyes played tug-of-war with hers in a moment that vibrated with palpable tension.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Jake,’ Gwen said as she approached. ‘Your brother is here to see you. He’s waiting in Reception. He told me to tell you it’s important.’

Jake’s expression tightened, and then locked down to a blank impenetrable mask. ‘Call me on my mobile if anything urgent comes in,’ he said gruffly to Kitty. ‘I’ll be ten minutes.’

Gwen let out a sigh as Jake disappeared through the entrance to A&E. ‘I wish Jake would tell me what’s going on.’

Kitty frowned. ‘Going on?’

‘With Robbie,’ Gwen said. ‘I can tell Jake’s worried sick about him but he won’t talk about it. I guess he’s used to dealing with his family on his own. God knows he’s been doing it long enough.’

‘What do you mean?’ Kitty asked.

‘Jake’s mother was killed in a car accident when he was sixteen,’ Gwen said. ‘And that’s another thing he won’t talk about. I only heard about it because one of the paramedics who attended the accident worked with my husband in the fire department. A drunk driver hit Jake’s mother head-on. She made it to hospital but died a few hours later.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Kitty said. ‘What about his father?’

Gwen rolled her eyes. ‘That’s another one of Jake’s no-go areas,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he’s seen his father since he was a kid. I don’t think Robbie has even met him.’

‘Who looked after Jake and his siblings after their mother was killed?’ Kitty asked.

‘I think they stayed with his mother’s parents for a bit, but it didn’t last,’ Gwen said. ‘They’d disowned their daughter when she hooked up with Jake’s father. They didn’t even know the kids when they were plonked on their doorstep. Jake got his own place as soon as he could afford it and made his own way. Can’t have been easy. He’s done such a good job of taking care of them all, but now Robbie’s got some sort of issue. God knows what it is. Jake certainly won’t let on.’

Kitty looked towards the doors Jake had just gone through. She thought back to her conversation with him about why he hadn’t travelled abroad. Had he stayed home in order to watch over his siblings? How had he coped financially? Had his mother left them well provided for or did he have to struggle to make ends meet? What else had he sacrificed to be there for his family?

The image of him as a protective father figure was at odds with her impression of him as a fun-loving, laid-back playboy. But then she thought of the day she’d seen him at the beach with his young nephew. No one could ask for a more devoted uncle and mentor. Strict but fair, strong but nurturing—all the things young kids and in particular boys needed to grow. Jake had apparently had no such mentor himself. Instead he had been the man of the house for most of his thirty-four years.

Kitty turned and saw Gwen looking at her speculatively. ‘What were you two talking about just then, anyway?’ Gwen asked. ‘You looked rather cosy.’

Kitty felt a flush pass over her cheeks. ‘It was just…nothing.’

Gwen gave her a motherly smile of caution. ‘Tread carefully, my dear,’ she said. ‘He’s a gorgeous man in looks and in temperament, but he doesn’t play for keeps.’

‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell everyone I’m not interested in Jake Chandler,’ Kitty said with an irritated frown.

Gwen’s look was long and measuring. ‘Not that you wouldn’t make a lovely couple or anything,’ she said. ‘I can see the sparks that fly between you.’

‘I’m sure you’re imagining it,’ Kitty said, still frowning. ‘Personally, I think he can’t wait until I hop on that plane back to Britain. He thinks I’m not up to the task.’

‘You’re handling things just fine,’ Gwen said. ‘Jake’s not one to stroke egos unnecessarily. If he was unhappy with your work he’d soon let you know.’

Kitty gave her a grim look. ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,’ she said, and turned back to the unit.