Carol Marinelli
With love to Fiona McArthur
I love our chats
C xxx
‘SORRY, JUAN, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ Cate Nicholls stopped twisting a long brown curl around her finger and cringed at the sound of Juan’s deep, heavily ac- cented—but clearly sleepy—voice when he answered the phone.
‘It is no problem. Is that you, Cate?’
‘Yes.’ She blushed a little that Juan had recognised her voice. He had only done a few locum shifts at the Melbourne Bayside Hospital emergency department, but the tension between them sizzled. Cate had tried everyone she could think of before finally accepting Harry’s suggestion and phoning Juan to see if he could come in. A fully qualified anaesthetist from Argentina, he was travelling around the world for a year or two and was as sexy-as-sin as a man could possibly be and still remain popular. ‘I’m really sorry to have disturbed you. Were you working last night?’
‘No.’
‘Oh!’ Cate glanced up at the clock—it was two p.m., why on earth would he still be in bed? Then Cate heard the sound of a female voice and cringed again as Juan told whoever the woman was that he took three sugars in his coffee. Then his silken voice returned to Cate.
‘So, what can I do for you?’
‘Sheldon called in sick and we haven’t been able to get anyone else in to cover him.’
‘Does Harry know that you’re calling me?’
Cate laughed—Harry, one of the senior emergency department consultants, went into sulking mode whenever Juan was around; he was still annoyed that Juan had knocked back his offer of a three-month contract to work in the department. ‘It was Harry who suggested that I call you.’
‘So, what time do you want me to come in?’
‘As soon as you can get here.’ Cate looked out at the busy emergency department. ‘It’s