He was still leaning on his hand. After a few hours in a fugue, his brain was kick-starting again, along with his dormant libido.
“I’ve never really met anyone like you before,” he murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a pickup line?”
He laughed. “I’m too tired and too lazy to try and pick you up, right now. But, hey, look me up tomorrow. I’ll probably have a whole new lease of life.”
“With those circles under your eyes, I doubt you’re even going to see tomorrow. I bet you sleep right through.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. I have to see tomorrow. I’m speaking—at the conference.” He gestured behind her. “I should probably be in there right now, trying to charm my way around the room and into a new job.”
“You’re looking for a new job?” She gave a half smile. “What? Been fired from everywhere in Scotland?”
The bartender set down her wine in front of her, along with the biggest burger and plate of fries Jack had seen in forever. He couldn’t help it. “Praise be. Food of the gods.”
She sipped her wine and he could feel her watching him with interest as he snagged a fry. “I’m warning you. Try and put any of this in an evidence bag and I’ll have to wrestle you to the floor.”
She pushed up from her bar stool, leaning over to steal one of his fries. “You Scots guys. You think you’re tough. You ain’t got nothing on a girl from Milwaukee.”
She bit into the fry and nodded. “Better than it looks. And, because it came fresh from the kitchen, I won’t tell you any horror stories about it. I save them for the bar snacks.”
Her stomach growled loudly and he couldn’t help but laugh again.
He picked up his knife. “Okay, then, mystery woman. Since you’re obviously the least boring person in the room, I’ll make a deal and share with you.” He waved the knife at her. “But let’s be clear. This isn’t normal behavior for me. I’m just too tired to fight.”
He cut the burger in half and pushed her half toward her. “But no more insults. And—” he looked down at her long legs “—I still think I could take you.”
She picked up her half. He liked that. A woman who didn’t pussyfoot around her food. “Okay, then. Because I’m starved and can’t be bothered to wait for room service, I’ll take your offer.” She gave him a sideways look. “You haven’t even told me your name.”
He nodded as he poised the burger at his lips. “Kinda like it that way.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Me too.”
She waited a second then added, “Are you really here looking for a job?”
He waited until he’d finished chewing. “I’m still officially in employment for the next two weeks. After that?” He held out one hand. “The world is my oyster. I’ve had a couple of offers. Haven’t decided whether to take them up or not.”
“Don’t you need a paycheck?”
He paused for a second. “Of course I do. But right now, it’s more important I take the right job, rather than just the first one that comes along.”
She studied him for a few seconds. He could see a whole host of questions spinning around in her brain, but she was far too smart to ask. Instead she grinned as she stole another fry. “Makes you sound old.”
“You think?”
“Definitely.”
He shook his head. “I’m not old. I’m just...well-worn.”
She laughed again as she took another sip of wine. “At what? Thirty? Thirty-five?”
He choked. “Thirty-five?” He patted one of his cheeks. “Wow. I was really conned by that moisturizer. I wonder if it’s got a money-back guarantee.”
He leaned a little closer. “I’ll have you know I have a whole ten days before I reach the grand old age of thirty-five.”
He narrowed his gaze as he looked at her again. “But two can play at that game.” He gave a slow nod and took his time letting his gaze go up and down her length. “I’m guessing, forty? Forty-six?”
She let out a little shriek. “Forty-six! Oh, no way, buster. You’ve had it now.” She leaned over him again, her soft skin brushing against his as she lifted the whole bowl of fries out of his reach.
“Not the fries!”
She perched the bowl in her lap and nodded solemnly. “Surely you know a woman of my maturity needs to keep her strength up.”
He liked her. He liked her a lot. The room opposite was full of anxious glances and too much “my qualifications are better than yours.” Too many people wanting to talk about how wonderful they were as loudly as they could.
Jack was here for one reason. To present his research. To let people know he’d found something that had made a huge difference in a wartime setting. The difference between life and death.
That was the privilege of being an army doctor. He got to try things—sometimes out of desperation—that private clinics and hospitals around the world would throw their hands up at in shock.
But, so far, some of the best medical inventions ever had come from the battlefield. Freeze-dried plasma, handheld inhalers for pain relief, a specially designed applicator for ketamine to treat trauma casualties, and his own particular find—a type of wound dressing part clay, part algae that stopped severe bleeding in under twenty seconds. It had already saved over a hundred casualties who would have surely died. If they started using it in trauma bays around the globe, it could potentially save millions.
Ms. Mystery next to him leaned over and put her hand on his arm. “Hey? Everything okay?”
The feel of her warm hand sent pulses up his arm. He blinked. “Yeah, of course.”
She gave a gentle smile. “Thought I’d lost you for a second there. Maybe the jet lag is getting to you after all.” Her tone had changed a little. It was almost as if she’d just had a look inside his brain for a second and seen what he’d been lost in.
He gave a small sigh and tried to imagine meeting her in any other set of circumstances than these. “If I was any kind of gentleman, I should be trying to charm you and be swirling you around the ballroom floor in there.”
She leaned her head on her hand. “But that’s what I like. You’re not trying to charm me. In fact, I should be insulted, because it seems as if you couldn’t care less.” She wrinkled her nose. “I did hear that Scots guys could be grumpy.”
He straightened up. “Hey, that’s the guys from Edinburgh. Not the guys from Glasgow.” He tugged at his shirt, trying to make himself look more presentable. “And anyway, I have charmed you. I bought you chips.”
She stared down at the bowl. “Chips?”
He shook his head. “You call them fries. We call them chips.”
She pointed to a box behind the bar. “Oh, no. Those are the chips.”
He smiled and leaned a little closer. “No, no. They’re crisps. And I was just being polite earlier, calling them fries. Didn’t want to confuse you.”
She threw back her head and laughed, revealing the pale skin on her long neck, then shook her head and leaned a little closer. “The more tired you get, the stronger your accent gets. Any more Scottish and I’ll need a translator.”
His brow furrowed. “Nothing wrong with my accent.