In Bed With the Boss

‘You’re starting to sound like my father,’ she said with a rueful twist to her mouth. ‘He thinks I need a bodyguard and has even offered to pay for one.’

A brief flash of annoyance passed over his features at her comment. ‘I’ll see you in about ten minutes,’ he said. ‘Or do you need longer?’

Georgie gave him a pert look. ‘It takes time to put on lipstick, Mr Blackwood.’

His eyes held hers for a pulsating moment.

‘Right, then,’ he said, heading towards the male change rooms. ‘I’ll give you twelve minutes.’

Georgie dived into the shower, quickly shampooing her hair and combing through some conditioner. She dried herself off and dressed in the fresh casual clothes she’d brought in her backpack. She didn’t have any make-up with her but she did have a little tub of strawberry flavoured lip-gloss which she dabbed on her lips. She gave her hair a quick blast with the hairdryer on the wall and, finger-combing it into place, walked out to reception.

Ben looked up as she approached, his stomach giving a short, sharp kick of reaction at the sight of her glossy mid-length hair lying loosely about her shoulders. His fingers started to twitch with the impulse to run through the shiny strands and he had to clench his hands to deaden the urge. She was wearing white cotton drawstring trousers and a low-cut T-shirt that hugged her small but firm breasts lovingly. Her waist was tiny and her arms slim and toned, the hint of a golden tan giving her skin a healthy glow. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen a more naturally beautiful woman.

Desire, hot and urgent, pulsed through him as his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips were plump and glossy, just begging to be kissed.

God, it had been so long since he’d felt a woman’s soft touch. He could almost feel the gentle glide of Georgie’s smooth hands over his body, touching him, her soft pouting mouth tasting him.

‘Everything OK?’ she asked, looking up at him.

Ben gave himself a mental shake and smiled. ‘Yeah, sorry, I was thinking about something else.’

She fell into step beside him as he led the way outside. ‘It’s like that, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Work plays on your mind so much you don’t have room for anything else.’

He glanced down at her, breathing in the sweet fresh fragrance of her shampoo, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she moved past him in the doorway. ‘Yes, it’s amazing how any of us turn out normal when you think about the punishing hours we have to put in,’ he said.

He opened the passenger side of his utility for her and wondered if she’d turn up her nose at the faint smell of lucerne hay from his weekend down at the farm.

‘Hang on a tick,’ he said, reaching past her to shove some feed bills aside. ‘There you go.’

‘Thank you,’ Georgie said as she got in. ‘Wow, this is cool. Do you have a farm?’

He got in the driver’s side before he answered. ‘My mother and stepfather run a property at Mudgee. Cattle mostly, although they’ve got a few vines in for a wine-maker further up the road. Normally they’d be growing feed crops but the drought has hit them hard.’

She turned to look at him. ‘Did you grow up in the bush?’

‘Yep.’

‘How often do you go out to the property?’

‘I try to get out t

here once a month at least,’ he answered.

‘Sometimes I manage twice a month but that’s not always possible with private practice commitments.’

‘Are you going to continue as a staff neurosurgeon or make a total move to the private sector?’ she asked.

He changed gear as he headed out into the stream of traffic. ‘The financial rewards of private practice are very tempting, but I can’t help feeling the public system deserves support. I juggle both with the hours I have available. I enjoy working in a large teaching hospital and, to me, research is a high priority.’

‘What’s the focus of your research?’ Georgie asked, her gaze drifting to his hands, her stomach giving a little kick of reaction as he changed gear again.

‘Improving outcomes in cerebral aneurysm,’ he answered. ‘I’m looking at a couple of different methods of reducing cerebral metabolic requirements in patients with leaking aneurysms, pre-, peri- and post-operatively, to look at outcome improvements. I have some suggestions for a research project for you if you haven’t already thought of anything.’

‘I have a few ideas,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from those long, tanned fingers. ‘Ultimately I’m interested in paediatric neurosurgery, but one of my ideas might tie in with your project.’

He flicked a sideways glance her way. ‘Is that where you intend to eventually end up—paediatrics?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I love kids, I always have. I guess it’s because I’m an only child. I would have loved brothers and sisters.’