Locked Down With The Army Doc: Locked Down with the Army Doc / The Brooding Surgeon's Baby Bombshell

She gave a tiny shudder. That was what happened when you made assumptions. She lifted her head and looked at him again, angry with herself.

She’d found him attractive. She’d liked flirting with him. The truth was, more than she’d expected to. And now he was here. Standing right in front of a room full of professionals and addressing the room.

And boy, could he speak. She sat mesmerized along with the rest of the audience as he described his time in Afghanistan and the sometimes limited resources. He showed a new wound dressing he’d developed—a mixture of clay and algae that could stop severe bleeding and form a clot within twenty seconds.

Amber could almost see the ears pricking up in the room and people sitting a little straighter in their seats. Those twenty seconds could be the difference between life and death.

His accent drew the audience in—as did his demeanor. He was a commanding figure, especially in uniform. He spoke with passion about his work, but was also realistic and even a little self-deprecating. All things that had drawn her to him last night. He acknowledged everyone who’d worked alongside him, fellow doctors, surgeons and army medics. He showed pictures of some of the soldiers who had been treated and had their lives saved by this dressing that had been used in the field. Finally he showed cost pricing for the wound dressings along with approximations of lives that could be saved across the world. She could sense the buzz in the air; it was almost infectious.

Then he just stopped.

After a few seconds people started glancing nervously at each other. The presentation had finished and his image was now being shown on the large screen behind him in intimate detail. As she watched she could almost swear she saw a little twitch at his right eye—those brown eyes that had almost seemed to bewitch her last night. She gave herself a shake. Where had that come from?

His eyes seemed to focus and he started talking again. “This product was conceived in a place of war. It was needed. It was essential to save lives—and it will be essential to saving lives in the future. War is never a situation you want to be in. People die. Families are devastated and lives change...forever.”

He took a deep breath. “What makes me sad is that we need something like this. I’m sad that, even though we’re no longer in a time of war, because of gun and knife crime, this product will continue to be needed.”

His words echoed across the room. It was the way he said them, the change in timbre of his voice. She could hear the emotion; she could almost reach out and touch it. Even though the temperature in the room was steady, she could swear that a cool breeze swept over her, prickling the hairs on her arms.

People around her were openmouthed. Then slowly, but surely, applause started throughout the room. Within a few seconds it gathered pace and Amber couldn’t help but smile as she glanced at the nods of approval and the conversations starting around her.

“Do you think we should get it?”

“It would be perfect for paramedics.”

“What an investment opportunity...”

The professor crossed the stage again, shaking Jack’s hand enthusiastically. He then launched into the next introduction. “Our next speaker is a doctor from the Disease Prevention Agency.”

Amber felt a wave of panic.

“Amber Berkeley has been working there for the last five years. She specializes in meningitis and will be presenting some of the latest research into emerging strains. Please welcome Dr. Amber Berkeley.”

Darn it. She stood up quickly. She’d come in looking for distraction and Jack Campbell had certainly met the criteria. Usually she would spend the five minutes before a presentation going over things in her head and taking some time to do controlled breathing. But she hadn’t even thought about the presentation the whole time she’d been in here. Somehow her attention had all been focused on her mystery almost-suitor from last night.

She walked smartly down the auditorium, climbing the steps and shaking the professor’s hand. Her heart was thudding so loudly she almost expected everyone else to hear it.

She glanced at Jack, who was giving her an amused look. Rat fink. Could he sense her panic? “Dr. Berkeley,” he said with a nod of his head as the corners of his lips turned upward.

“Dr. Campbell,” she answered as coolly as she could, trying not to take in how he filled out his army fatigues. She was sure he could have worn his more formal uniform for an event like this, but somehow the fatigues suited him—made him look more like Jack.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she set them on the podium, waiting for the professor and Jack to leave the stage. She tried to still her thoughts and let her professional face slide into place. She’d always been bothered with nerves. It was weird. Put her in a clinical situation—even an epidemic—and she could deal with the pandemonium of that no problem. Put her in a classroom setting, or even an interview setting, and her heart would race at a million miles an hour, making her thoughts incoherent and her words even worse. She’d had to work at this. She’d had to work hard.

She took a few deep and steadying breaths. Truth was, she could do this presentation in her sleep. She knew the information inside out. But could she present with the commitment and compassion that Jack just had? He was a hard act to follow.

A horrible queasiness came over her. That familiar feeling of not being good enough. The way she’d constantly tried to prove herself to her father by getting perfect grades, being the first in her class, qualifying for med school—all just to gain a second of his attention. Those memories ran deep—even though her father was gone. She hated feeling this way. And as she looked out over the sea of expectant faces, she felt her anger spike.

She looked up as Jack descended the stairs to her right. At the last possible second he turned his head, gave her a cheeky grin and winked at her. Winked at her.

A little spurt of adrenaline raced through her body. The cheek. Right now, she could cheerfully punch him. Anything for an outlet to the bubbling frustration she was feeling inside.

She lifted her head and looked out at the still-waiting audience. She could do this. She could. She could be good enough. She could deliver her presentation with the same passion and commitment as he had. She would deal with Jack Campbell later. She tilted her chin upward and plastered her most professional smile on her face. “Thank you so much for inviting me here today...”

* * *

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.”