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‘Shame the camera isn’t running,’ Anna said tartly. ‘I would have liked my response to that suggestion recorded for the nation’s entertainment. And talking of cameras, if you’re seriously going to stay and try and make this thing work, we need to talk.’
‘More ground rules?’
‘Just a few observations about the way things are going to be. I’ll dump these journals in my room and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We can go through a few things.’
‘Will you be wearing black leather and carrying a whip? I love it when you’re dominating.’ He unzipped the neck of his wet suit and Anna felt her breath catch and something slow and dangerous un-curl low in her pelvis.
Damn. Immediately she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, cursing her female hormones.
How could you react to a man that you didn’t even like?
She of all people, who was so much more interested in the human mind than the human body.
She dumped the magazines on the bed with an impatient sigh. Unfortunately for her, Sam had an incredible body. And he knew it. But fortunately for her, she didn’t like the man. So she was safe.
She sucked in a breath, gathered her thoughts back on track and mentally sketched out a few plans for how they could work together most efficiently. How they could work together with minimum contact.
When she marched into the kitchen fifteen minutes later she was armed with a notepad and determination not to let him unsettle her otherwise perfectly ordered life.
Despite the fact that she’d been quick, he’d already showered and changed and was dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a T-shirt which clung lovingly to the muscles of his broad shoulders. He was standing at the granite work surface, chopping vegetables with the speed and skill of a surgeon. For a moment she stood still, fascinated by those long, strong fingers and his sure touch.
Then she pulled herself together, dropped onto the nearest kitchen chair and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘It’s hot.’
‘Yeah—stuffy. Good night for skinny-dipping.’
Anna sighed. ‘Will you ever grow up?’
‘If growing up means coming down here with a notepad and an official expression then I sincerely hope not.’ He tossed slices of spring onion and ginger into a wok and waited while they sizzled. ‘OK, Captain Riggs. Let’s have it. Outline the plan of attack.’
Just being in the same room as him made her temper sizzle.
‘You can mock all you like.’ Her hair fell forward, brushing the table. ‘But how do you think we’re ever going to work together and deliver a reasonable standard of care for our patients if we don’t do some planning?’
He added chicken to the wok. ‘Do you plan with Dad?’
‘We’d have meetings, yes.’ She tapped her pen on the pad. ‘But he and I have worked together for a long time. We know each other.’
Sam lowered the heat. ‘We know each other, too, Riggs.’
‘Too well.’
‘Maybe.’ He glanced towards her. ‘Or maybe we’ll both get some surprises. Life does that to you sometimes. Just when you think you’ve got it all worked out, the unexpected happens.’
He could say that again.
‘You coming back to Cornwall is certainly unexpected,’ she agreed, frowning as he handed her a glass. ‘What’s this?’
‘An extremely good Sancerre. Excellent for hot weather and it will go well with my stir-fry. It might also soften your mood.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my mood.’
He shot her a look. ‘Just try it.’
She did and had to stop herself moaning out loud with sheer pleasure. It was cool and sharp and the alcohol oozed into her tired bones with immediate effect.
‘It’s good.’
‘A lot of the things I do are good, Riggs. You ought to try a few more of them.’
