* * *
So her name was Amber Berkeley. It suited her. A tiny bit quirky, with a hint of grace.
He’d had no idea she was a speaker at the conference. That was the thing about not sharing names and trying to be a little mysterious—it made you miss out on other things.
He’d left the stage and stood at the back of the auditorium listening to her. Her nerves were clearly evident. Her hands had been shaking and she’d been white as a ghost as she’d stepped up to the podium. Last night she’d been brimming with casual confidence. He’d liked that better.
But as he’d stood and watched, the woman he’d met last night had slowly emerged. It was clear she knew and understood her subject matter. She spoke eloquently about meningitis and its spread, the way that the different viruses adapted and changed and the problems that could cause. He was impressed with the way she handled random questions that were thrown at her about the new emerging types of meningitis and the difficulties in diagnosing quickly enough for appropriate treatment.
He’d learned something new. And as she stepped down from the podium and walked back up the aisle toward him, he waited for her at the door, pushing it open as she approached.
The light in the foyer was bright compared to the auditorium. She stepped outside, blinked for a few seconds then unfastened her jacket and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“You winked at me, you cheeky...” She left the last word missing.
“Did I?” He raised his eyebrows.
She shook her head and sagged against the wall for a second. “Thank goodness that’s over.”
He looked surprised. “You were good. What on earth were you worried about?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Who said I was worried?”
“Do your hands normally shake?”
Her tongue was stuck firmly inside her cheek. She waited a second before replying, then pulled her shoulders back and started to walk past him. “For that, you owe me breakfast. I couldn’t eat anything earlier but right now I could probably eat the entire contents of the kitchen.”
He held his arm out, gesturing toward the nearby hotel restaurant, trying not to fixate on the swing of her hips in that skirt. “Your wish is my command.” Then he gave a little smile. “I seem to buy you a lot of food.”
She tutted and shook her head as she walked past him, letting one of the waiters show them to a table looking out over the Pacific Ocean. The wind had whipped up outside, bringing the earlier dark clouds closer and making all the parasols on the beach shake.
Amber glanced outside. “What’s that all about? I came here for sunshine and good weather.”
Jack shrugged. “Almost looks like a day in Scotland instead of Hawaii. Must just be in for a bit of bad weather.”
Amber sat down quickly as the waiter showed them to a table. She didn’t hesitate to order. “Can I have coffee, please? Not just a cup—a whole pot. And some eggs, sunny-side up, and some rye toast, please.”
Jack gave a nod and tried not to smile again. “I’ll have what she’s having—and some orange juice, please.” He waited until the waiter had left. “So, you didn’t want to hear the next speaker?”
She laid her hand on her stomach. “Are you kidding? If I’d stayed in there I’m sure all five hundred delegates would have heard my stomach rumbling. I had to eat.”
Her hair was tamer today, tied back in a slick ponytail instead of piled haphazardly on top of her head. The pink tips were just visible when she turned her head. The simple black suit and white shirt were elegant, but as they sat at the table, she pulled off her jacket and rolled up her shirtsleeves midway, revealing a host of gold bangles.
“You ducked out on me.”
She looked up quickly. For the briefest of seconds she looked a bit startled, but he could almost see her natural demeanor settling back into place. “How do you know I ducked out? You were too busy snoring.”
He shook his head. “I don’t snore. You, however...”
“You never told me you were a doctor.” The words were almost accusing.
“Neither did you.”
For a second she didn’t speak. It was almost like a Mexican standoff.
He could see her swallow, and then she gave him a haughty stare. “I don’t mix with fellow doctors.”
Jack leaned forward. “What does that mean?” He held out his hands. “And what do you call this?”
“This,” she said firmly, “is breakfast. Breakfast is fine.”
He kept his elbows on the table, wondering if he could lean even closer. “Oh, so I can buy you food. But you can’t spend the night with me?” He wanted to laugh out loud. She sounded so uptight, and that seemed a total turnaround from the woman he’d met last night.
But now he was curious. “So, what exactly is wrong with doctors? After all, you’re one.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “I know. It’s just...” He could see her try to find the words. “It’s just that I don’t like to mix work with...” She winced.
“Pleasure?” He couldn’t resist.
She closed her eyes for a second.
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “So, if I’d told you last night in the bar I was a doctor, you wouldn’t have come back to my room with me?”
She bit her bottom lip. He could tell she knew she was about to be challenged.
“Well, yes.”
He held open his arms. “It’s a conference full of medical professionals. The hotel is full of them. Who did you think you might meet in the bar?”
She shrugged. “There’s more than one conference on in this hotel. I thought you were maybe one of those—” she waggled her hand “—business, economic-type guys.”
He let out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. From the second he’d started studying medicine it had felt as if he practically had doctor stamped on his forehead. He put his hand on his chest. “Me? You honestly thought I was some kind of accountant, computer, business-type geek?” He shook his head. “Oh, my army colleagues would just love that.”
She looked distinctly uncomfortable and he tried to rein in his amusement.
“Why are you getting yourself so worked up? Nothing happened. You know it didn’t.” He gave her a kind of sideways glance. “Maybe...if things had been different and jet lag hadn’t been involved then we could be having an entirely different conversation today.”
He was probably pushing things. But it was true. There had been a spark between them last night. He wouldn’t let her try and deny it.
Her face was pinched; there were faint wrinkles along her brow. He couldn’t actually believe it. She really, really did have an issue with the fact he was a doctor.
He’d worked with colleagues in the past who didn’t like to mix work with relationships. It wasn’t so unheard of. Maybe if he’d adopted that rule he wouldn’t have ended up losing someone. He wouldn’t have felt the need to shut himself off entirely from the rest of the world.
But even as he had that thought he knew it was ridiculous. Relationship or not, they would still both have been posted to Afghanistan. He’d been tortured with what-ifs for a long time before he realized nothing would have changed.
He saw a glimmer of something in Amber’s blue eyes. A spark at his words. Baiting her was easy.
She flung her paper napkin at him. “No way.”