Page 17 of Prognosis Temporary

CHAPTER FOUR

Callie had spent allthe intervening days and about every spare second of her time over the weekend trying not to think about Sebastian’s imminent arrival at Jambalyn. But, as she pulled her car into her parking space Monday morning right next to Sebastian’s, it could no longer be ignored.

She was going to see him again. Today. And every other day for the next year!

A nervous tremor ran through her stomach and she placed her hand against it. Why, why, why had she opened up to him like that? Opening her body to him had been far less intimate in comparison to letting him inside her head.

She felt as if she’d let Sebastian – the Sebastian Walker, for Pete’s sake — cross some sort of line. One she’d never let a man over before. And now he knew. And frankly that scared the hell out of her. How had she confessed something so personal to someone she barely knew?

How?

Annoyed, Callie pulled down her sun visor and inspected her reflection. She fiddled with her hair, inspected her teeth for stray food and pouted. Reaching for her voluminous handbag she searched for some lip gloss she knew was stashed somewhere inside, grabbing it triumphantly when she found it almost immediately.

Glancing back up to the mirror, her hand hovered just above her lips. And then sanity returned.

For crying out loud!

What was she doing? Was she trying to look nice for him? Nope. She would not do that. They were not in a relationship and neither were they going to be. She would start as she meant to go on — treating him as a colleague and pretending what had happened hadn’t happened at all.

She was thirty-eight years old, for Pete’s sake! And he was just a man. They were there to work and work only. It was imperative that she acted like a professional and forgot all about that night and the pillow talk that was making her feel unaccountably anxious.

Hopefully he’d get the message that their one-night stand was off-limits. And if he didn’t, she’d just have to make it crystal clear.

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Sebastian looked acrossthe room as Callie — fierce, proud, warrior-woman Callie - strode into his new place of work with her head held high. She was wearing the same sort of clothes she’d worn on the bridge that fateful day. Loose-fitting jeans and a roomy T-shirt in a rusty-brown that set off the honey highlights in her hair.

While there were no uniforms in community mental health, an ID tag hung from a lanyard around her neck and bounced against her breasts. Sensible flat shoes and a large black bag completed the picture. She looked every inch the professional. Poised and confident, ready for another day at the coal face. A far cry from the sexy clothes she’d worn to the restaurant.

The ones that had ended up scattered all over his floor.

As she approached, her bag swung hypnotically against her hip, drawing his gaze lower and distracting him from Geraldine’s fascinating explanation of the appointment system. He had kissed that hip. Those thighs. Those long legs had locked around his waist.

His gaze travelled up again, her necklace peeking out from the V of her neckline. Moonlight had glinted off that pendant as he had pounded into her.

‘Good morning, Sebastian,’ she said briskly, folding her arms across her chest.

He nodded, ignoring the way the action emphasised her breasts. ‘Callie.’

‘I see our new grandmother’s giving you the tour?’

Tahlia had given birth to a baby boy three hours after Geri had left the restaurant.

‘Not any more she’s not.’ Geri grinned, tapping her watch. ‘I have a breakfast meeting with the government community mental health advisor.’ She walked the two paces to her desk to gather some files. ‘Can you show Seb around? Take him out with you later today, too. The sooner he gets to know the local area the better.’

Geri didn’t wait for Callie to agree and Sebastian hid a smile as Callie gaped after her boss obviously not keen on playing babysitter. She was careful not to show it though as she turned to him and said, ‘Seb, huh?’

He shrugged. ‘Most people call me Seb.’

She frowned at him then, or more specifically at the buttons on his crisp white shirt like they’d offended her somehow.

‘You might want to think about going a bit more informal,’ she said, stiffly. ‘I’m sure a man with your reputation must have a debonair image to maintain, and in your private practice your clients probably expect spiffy. But, trust me, in the community there are no expectations and most of our clients find it easier to relate to casual dress.’

Sebastian looked her up and down again. He really did mean just to take an inventory of her casual dress but his eyes refused to move quickly, lingering on her thighs and breasts. Her prickliness didn’t faze him - it was just part of the puzzling patchwork woman in front of him. ‘Casual. Check.’

She swallowed. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said crankily, lowering her voice even though they were the only ones around.

Sebastian gave a half smile. ‘Like what?’

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