‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ she muttered under her breath, snapping the disposable chopsticks apart. ‘Fine.’ She raised her voice and spoke very quickly. ‘Brain damage occurs because a seizure involves maximal brain metabolism and increased muscle metabolism. This consumes oxygen and glucose, which leads to hypoxia. Or they may induce airway obstruction and possibly temporary respiratory arrest, which will also cause hypoxia. A brain deprived of oxygen for too long becomes irreversibly damaged. Can I eat my lunch now, please, sir?’
Something that could have been disappointment or even hurt showed in Mac’s face but his gaze slid away from hers instantly. The way it always seemed to now.
‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘Enjoy.’
They ate in silence for a minute or two. Perversely, Julia wanted Mac to ask her something else. She wanted to hear his voice, even if it meant racking her brains to give him the correct answer to a question or an intelligent response to some information.
Or was it because of the feeling she had done something wrong? Upset him in some way? She had a delicious-looking piece of chicken caught between her chopsticks but hesitated with it in mid-air because she couldn’t help glancing across the table at Mac as she hit a mental rewind button to see if she had said or done anything unacceptable so far today.
Mac had just put a generous forkful of noodles into his mouth but one hadn’t quite made its destination, hanging from one corner. Julia’s gaze was captured. And then Mac put out the tip of his tongue to capture the errant noodle and she was aware of a wave of heat that nearly melted her into a puddle on her chair. It felt like a spark had been dropped into a tinder-dry forest somewhere in her abdomen and it caught with a flash like a small explosion. Heat radiated upwards. She could feel it reach her neck and head for her cheeks.
Her hand must have trembled slightly because she lost the grip on that piece of chicken and it fell and bounced down her overalls, leaving a trail of chilli sauce. Julia made a dive for it, snatching it up and putting it in her mouth, hoping she had reacted so quickly her clumsiness might go unnoticed.
She could feel Mac watching her, however. Could feel the tension making the air she was trying to breathe feel like treacle. Oh, God! Had he been watching her watching him lick up that noodle? That vicious circle spun faster. Out of control. This awareness was driving her just as crazy as Mac’s determination to be Super-Mentor.
Why couldn’t it just go away? If Mac trusted her, it would. A flicker of anger at the hidden insult was generated but confrontation was hardly going to help anything, was it?
‘Oops, busted!’The old habit of making a joke to defuse emotional overload was too hard to change. She grinned at Mac. ‘I’m a piglet!’
But Mac’s smile was tight and Julia felt like an idiot.
Repressed anger grew. She was doing her very best to sort this situation out but Mac wasn’t co-operating. At this rate, what had been a perfect partnership would be poisoned. They would end up actually disliking each other. Julia was already feeling the stirring of resentment that could very easily express itself as antagonism. She could feel her own smile freezing and her gaze hardening into a glare.
The sound of their pagers going off should have been a blessing but it only added fuel to the unpleasant emotional mix for Julia. Good grief! The enjoyment of her job was going down the drain and now she couldn’t even enjoy her food. Scowling, she pushed her chair back and went to the office to get the details of the job they were being dispatched to, ignoring Mac who was following close behind.
Joe was already in the office, looking at a wall map. ‘Police callout,’ he told them. ‘Incident in a known drug house.’
‘Great.’ SERT training involved the kind of specialist work that could come from this kind of police operation. Dealing with gunshot wounds or scenes where tear gas or pepper spray might be used. They usually involved people who had no respect for authority and for whom violence was merely a form of communication. Way down on Mac’s list of preferences any day. Taking Julia into a job like this was even less appealing.
Working with her at all was losing its appeal.
He had been doing so well since that visit to Ken. So confident he could handle this. And then she’d dropped that damned piece of chicken and stained her overalls and that mental key had shot out of its lock. He had lost control big time.
The fabric of those overalls had become invisible and given him such a clear image of what her breast beneath would look like. His body had supplied what it might feel like to touch it. With his fingers…a soft, slow stroke, maybe. Or with his lips…
The effort it had taken to drag his gaze away had been phenomenal and when he had, it had gone in the wrong direction and collided with hers for just long enough to register the way her pupils had dilated. With alarm, no doubt, because his reaction had hardly been subtle. Her skin had been flushed, too, making her look hotter and more enticing that that spicy sauce she had been throwing around.
‘I’m a piglet,’ she’d said, with that winning grin, and Mac had tried to smile back but he knew he hadn’t been forgiven. The look on her face when she’d scraped her chair back. The way she’d ignored him as she’d stomped off to the office. OK, so he’d slipped his control for a heartbeat. It wasn’t going to happen again. It was only a matter of weeks until she packed her bags and disappeared from his life. He wasn’t going to risk another slip and give Julia another opportunity to dismiss him like that. She could stop worrying. He was going to. He wasn’t even going to worry about the potential for this job to be no place for a woman.
‘Come on, then,’ he growled. ‘Let’s go and get it over with.’
It was only a short helicopter ride. They landed in an empty car park between railway lines and the back of a rundown housing estate. Moving to a safe point, Mac was all too aware of how deserted it felt. Dark, blank windows towered menacingly overhead. Tattered plastic bags blew around like tumbleweeds and they walked past a burnt-out car chassis and an off-licence with thick iron bars over its door.
Mac did his best to ignore it but every instinct was telling him that Julia shouldn’t be here. This was professional, not personal, he decided. For the first time they were in a situation where her size and gender were a liability. He had every reason to order her to stay with the police at ground level until this incident was done and dusted. It was part of being a mentor. It had nothing to do with any desire to drag her away and simply keep her safe because he cared about her in an inappropriate way.
Not that she’d co-operate, of course. Even him thinking about the possibility had given Julia time to march right up to the police van and wait expectantly for their briefing.
‘It was a neighbour who made the call,’ they were informed. ‘Sounds of a fight going on and shots were fired. Then there was a lot of screaming. Still is. As soon as we can be sure it’s safe to enter and we’ve found who’s doing the screaming, we’ll send you guys in.’
Mac eyed Julia, the words forming that would be an order for her to stay put while he went in alone. Except that he could almost see a balloon over his partner’s head right now. One that enclosed the words ‘I don’t think so, mate!’ They would end up having an argument in public and that would hardly be professional. Not only that, she might think he was trying to protect her for personal reasons.
The same kind of personal reasons she had just been disgusted with, having caught him staring at the food stain on her chest. Mac stared back at Julia, aware of how frustrating this was. Couldn’t she see that her feistiness only generated problems? If she hadn’t been waiting for him in that car park, that kiss would never have happened and he wouldn’t be struggling to keep the key in that mental box in his head. Or was it his heart? Wherever. It was huge and heavy and dragging him down. And it was more than frustrating. It was infuriating.
Fine, was the silent message he sent back. Do what you like. If you won’t listen to reason, be it on your own head.