Page 27 of Prognosis Bad Timing

Charlie grimaced as he also perused the back seat. ‘I’ll buy you another one.’

Leaning her ass against the remnants of her car, Carrie tried not to think about the insurance excess she’d be facing. She earned good money but her mortgage was hefty and she always ran fairly close to the wire.

‘Come on.’ Charlie herded her away from the car. ‘Let’s go inside and call the police. You can file a report and I’ll drive you home.’

Carrie shook her head. ‘I can get an Uber.’

‘Maybe. But given your car was more than likely vandalised by some of my clients, it’s the least I can do.’

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Back in the clinic, Carrie sat in the lounge chair and accepted the cup of tea Charlie placed in her hands. The police came promptly due, no doubt, to Charlie’s close working relationship with them.

‘Did you say your address is Swenson Street?’

Carrie nodded at the policeman, who looked like he’d just graduated from high school. She had to concentrate hard on his questions because Charlie was sitting casually on the fat, squishy arm of her chair, his leg swinging lazily in her peripheral vision.

‘We’ve just been there. Your burglar’s struck again.’

‘Your burglar?’ Charlie asked, sitting up straighter.

She brushed away his concerns with a flutter of her hand. The police made it sound way more dramatic. There was hardly a master jewel thief at large in their neighbourhood. ‘We have a gnome-napper terrorising the street. Old Mrs Dennis’s gnomes are mysteriously disappearing.’

For a moment he seemed perplexed, his brow furrowing, before it smoothed out. ‘Oh gnome,’ he said, a twinkle of mirth lighting his grey eyes, like the sun shining through rain clouds.

Carrie laughed. “Hey, Gnome-nappers are serious business. Mrs Dennis wants to post a reward.”

After the police left they argued over Charlie’s offer of a lift. The clinic was dark, with the lights turned off in preparation to leave, just the streetlights bathing the waiting lounge in a soft glow.

‘Don’t you trust me?’

His voice was soft, a seductive caress reaching through the gloom to touch Carrie across the short distance that separated them. That was the crazy thing.

She did trust him. She felt perfectly safe. But that frisson didn’t feel safe. That slight tremble to her hand and huskiness in her breath when she thought about sharing a car with him again. Something stirred inside that hadn’t been stirred in a long time.

Something that had started five nights ago.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She gave a half-laugh. ‘Of course I do.” And because it was Friday night in the city, she’d be crazy to knock it back. “Fine.” She conceded. “There’ll probably be surge charging at the moment anyway.’

Carrie’s mobile rang as she did her seat belt up and she answered it while Charlie buckled up and turned the key in the ignition. He pulled out as Carrie was hanging up, his delicious male scent filling the confines of the car, filling Carrie with the insane urge to press her face against his neck and inhale.

Bloody hell. What was happening to her? She was sitting in a car with a man she barely knew, getting high on pheromones.

She just didn’t do stuff like this.

Carrie grabbed hold of the first thing in her head to stop her actually sniffing his neck. ‘That was my sister.’ Pausing for a second, Carrie continued. ‘She was just ringing to remind me about my hair appointment tomorrow,’ she prattled. ‘She’s a hairdresser.’ More prattle.

Charlie pulled out of the alley. ‘Yeah? Maybe I’ll drop by one day and get that sensible haircut my father keeps nagging me about.’

‘Oh, no,’ Carrie admonished immediately, and raised a hand to touch his hair. It was soft and fine and the glide of it through her fingers was a surprisingly sensual experience.

Then she realised what she was doing and dropped her hand abruptly. ‘It suits you,’ she said briskly as heat flushed her cheeks. She wound the window down. “It’s warm in here, isn’t it?”

‘Yes,’ Charlie agreed, wishing for the luxury of aircon as he, too, wound down his window, his scalp tingling where she’d touched.

There was a vibe between them that was hard to ignore, tonight. The rise and fall of her chest had quickened, the fabric of her shirt was pulling across her breasts, her glossy lips glistened in the passing glow of the streetlights. And in his mind’s eye he could see her pulling the clasp out of her hair and him hauling her over onto his lap, ripping open that sexy, silky shirt, the buttons popping everywhere.

Charlie gripped the steering-wheel harder as he squashed the image. Jesus, dude, what the fuck?

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