What? No. It was just unseasonably warm tonight. Or a vasoconstrictive response to the wine. Or something. Whatever was making her body parts flush it was definitely not Isaac Blair. ‘Oh, yes, the swanky South Ken penthouse. I’ve heard it’s going to be very nice. Very swish and expensive.’ Very uncluttered, too, no doubt. Isaac liked to keep things simple—most notably his love life, which, she’d observed over the years, was more like a revolving door of heartbroken women trying to ensnare him, and nothing stable or serious. Or committed. Ever. ‘And the renovations will be finished when?’ Hope rose.
‘A couple more months, I imagine. There’s Christmas coming and everything shuts down so there’ll be no progress made for a few weeks. Mid-February?’
Hope fell, but, God knew, she needed the cash to fund her home loan. Alex might well have spent all his inheritance but he’d had a good time in the process. All she’d got out of ploughing her grandmother’s inheritance cash into a bijou flat was a financial noose around her neck, dodgy plumbing and four-legged furry friends. Regardless, she didn’t feel overly comfortable being on her own with Isaac and flushing unmentionables. ‘Okay, so you stay on longer than February the twenty-eighth and I’ll charge you double rent.’
His eyes widened. ‘You drive a very hard bargain, Dr Spencer.’
‘Indeed I do.’ Her eyes locked with his and there was a strange rippling in the atmosphere between them. Was she imagining it or did he feel it, too?
He dragged his gaze away, but not before she caught a glimpse of tease there. Maybe a little heat. Whoa. Isaac? Heat? With her? Maybe she hadn’t imagined it.
‘So it’s just you and me here tonight, then?’ he asked.
‘It appears so.’ And why did that make her feel suddenly nervous? No, not nervous … tingly. Tingly happened to other people. Not her.
She looked across the wooden floor to the dark hole under the TV and tingly mingled with fear. Although she had to admit she did feel a lot better with Isaac in the flat. ‘Just you, me and our furry friend, of course … plus his babies, wife, mother, grandparents, probably a community the size of a small tropical nation living in the rafters, the walls … under my bed.’
‘I’ll get a trap tomorrow from the hardware stall at the market and have a word with the café and let them know we have guests. They’ll need to know for their own health and safety measures.’
‘Oh, I don’t want it hurt, or dead. I just want it gone. Out of here.’
‘Like me? Right.’
Got it in one. She couldn’t hide the smile. ‘You can stay if you can keep the rodent population to a minimum. Humanely. Yes. Yes. The mice. Do things … with them.’ Was she rambling a little?
‘Is that all I’m good for, really?’
She could think of a few things—starting with that mouth. Her stomach joined her head in all kinds of woozy. Definitely too much alcohol on an empty stomach. ‘I’m sure you’re good for a lot of things, Isaac …’
‘I’ve never had any complaints.’ He stood up, the flash of cheekiness gone. She wondered how it would be to really flirt with him, just a little. But then she didn’t know how. He brushed down his T-shirt and strode towards his bag.
There was something she was supposed to ask him. She couldn’t remember … Something about work or Christmas … Her head was getting foggy … Oh, yes … She held up a finger. ‘Wait. One thing.’
He stopped and turned, the bag still in his hand. ‘Yes?’
‘I have a problem.’
Smug eyebrows peaked. ‘Oh? Just the one?’
‘Don’t be cheeky. I’m organising the department Christmas party and the venue has double-booked us. Any chance Blue could fit us in? I’m in a bit of a pickle because I’m organising the party …’ Had she already said that? He might just save the day. She put her hand on one hip and flashed him her best winning smile. ‘Pretty please?’
It appeared to have little effect apart from the eyebrows rising further. ‘Now you’re just being nice because you want something. Poppy, Poppy, should I charge you double rates, too? What night?’
‘Next Friday.’
‘I’ll check the diary tomorrow. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. That’s early for a Christmas party.’
‘Things tend to hot up the closer we get to Christmas. Everyone wants a Christmas baby so they either try to hold on … or try to get it out early. We want to get the party out of the way so we can focus.’ Focusing was a bit of a problem right now, but she figured she’d be fine by Christmas.
‘So you’re working over Christmas? Not going home?’
She snorted at the thought. ‘You’re joking, right? I offered to work Christmas Day so the staff with families that actually cared for each other could spend time together. That way I have a good excuse to stay away from the family pile. So do me a favour and make sure my work Christmas party’s a good one? I want at least one thing to look forward to this festive season.’ Give me a good time, Isaac?
Geez, she was funny.
‘Okay, I’ll see what I can do. And now, I’m definitely going to bed.’ He turned again, his back straight, shoulders solid and that backside giftwrapped in jeans, all tight and firm and … her mouth watered.
What in hell was she thinking?
She watched him reach the door and felt an overwhelming desire to talk to him just a little more. She didn’t want to be on her own. And for some reason she felt a tingling down low and a need to … to what?
She hadn’t been able to think about sex for so long and now … well, right now she was thinking about it a lot. And not just because she was on the obstetrics and gynaecology rotation, although if that job taught her anything it was that women were either doing it a lot or not able to do it and wanting her to fix problems so they could do it some more.
But she deserved a little fun—and some much needed sexperience—maybe Isaac would know how she could find some. ‘Hey, Isaac, wait.’
‘What now?’
‘You have fun, right?’
She couldn’t read his expression as he turned to face her. Something between grumpy and irritated. And downright insanely sexy. ‘Sure. I work hard so I figure I should play hard, too.’
‘That’s it … that’s just it, right there. I’ve worked so hard for so long and I just want … more. Is there more? What more is there? What am I missing? How do you … you know, have fun without getting messed up in the process? Do you understand?’ She wasn’t sure she did. Not a lot of anything made sense right now. Except that Isaac had come closer and was looking at her with those bluest of blue eyes—okay, he was a little out of focus … And she wanted to stroke his hair. No, she wanted to breathe in his smell. It was smoky, very masculine. Yummy. She wanted to breathe him in and stroke his hair. ‘Is there more, Isaac?’
‘Oh. Okay, I see, we’re at stage three already.’ He disappeared into the kitchen and brought back a pint glass filled with water. ‘Drink this.’
She took a sip. He pushed it back towards her mouth and she drank a whole lot more; it was refreshing but nowhere near as nice as the Shiraz. ‘Stage three of what?’
‘It goes like this. The tipsy stage. The funny stage. The “pondering the universe” stage. Then, the “I love you, you’re my bestest ever friend” stage. And finally, the upchuck. We see it all the time at work and, trust me, you do not want to get to stage five.’
She put the glass down on the