Page 70 of Special Delivery
Poppy blushed and tugged a sheet around herself. No-one looked at her naked body anymore, not even her.
James smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. ‘Too late,’ he whispered, his nose touching hers. ‘I have committed every inch of you to memory.’
Poppy smiled into him. ‘I actually have no idea what just happened.’
‘Would you like me to explain it to you?’ he teased.
‘I mean, I don’t know how we ended up here. Like, it’s you.’
‘And what? You hate me?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘I definitely considered kicking you in the balls at least once.’
James grinned. ‘Foreplay. This was always going to happen.’
‘Um, as if,’ retorted Poppy, feeling a familiar pang of irritation at his Smuggy McSmugface.
‘Well, I wanted it to happen,’ admitted James.
Whaaaaaaat?!
‘Since when?The Block?’ (This was unexpected and startlingly good news.)
‘Nah, before that,’ said James. ‘Or maybe … I dunno.’ He flipped onto his back to stare at the ceiling again. ‘Even when we first met—even before you’d had Maeve—I just had this feeling you were …’
‘What?’
‘I dunno. You were … different … cool.’
Poppy crinkled her nose. ‘Please tell me you’re not some sicko who gets off on pregnant women or something weird.’
James laughed and wove his fingers through hers. ‘I didn’t mean I had the hots for you then, dumb-arse. You just made me feel …’
‘Enraged, irritated, maniacally defensive of a crappy old car space?’
‘All of the above, actually—and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.’
Poppy chewed her lip. Hekind ofmade sense. But really, he didn’t.
‘I think you must be a sicko.’
James chuckled, his fingers still intertwined with hers. ‘Can I please make it clear that I am not a sicko? Work is work, pregnant women are pregnant women, and women who turn up at my family Easters looking stupidly hot in footy jumpers are in another category completely. I have lots of boxes in my brain where I keep things nice and separate, and Poppy-the-patient fits in the work box, while Poppy-in-front-of-me is in another box entirely. There is no overlap.’
Poppy’s heart was fluttering way too embarrassingly at thestupidly hotcomment. ‘Are you breaking the Hippocratic Oath by being naked in my bed?’
‘Nope.’ James grinned and rolled over to face her.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I checked my textbook.’
Poppy raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s a bit on dating patients. Well, it’s a case study about a consultant who starts dating this nineteen-year-old stripper, and long story short, it’s fine because he only saw her in ED for half a day, and by the time they ran into each other at the stripclub six months later, there was no longer a patient–specialist relationship and a very low chance she’d be an ED patient again—unless she had another pole-dancing injury.’ His tone was pragmatic. ‘So if they were fine, I figure we’re fine too.’
Poppy snorted. ‘I don’t see many similarities between that situation and this.’ She waved her hand around the clothes-strewn room to remind him of whatthiswas.
‘You’re not a stripper?’
