Free Doctor's Orders by Ann Jennings

answered disdainfully.
    Isabel stood up angrily; what right had he to say such things? “I don’t care what it looked like to you,” she snapped, piling up the plates. “I’m taking these through to the kitchen and then I’d be glad if you would take me back to the hospital.”
    â€œYou can’t dictate to me when I should take you back,” he replied dourly, leaning back in his chair, one elbow on the table. From his stance he looked as if he intended to stay that way for the night!
    â€œOh really,” exploded Isabel crossly, “if you are going to be so difficult, I shall walk!” With that, she picked up the plates and marched smartly into the kitchen. She was fully aware that he had followed her, but ignored that fact and dumped the plates into the sink. “I shall do the washing up, and then I shall go,” she announced staring straight ahead, out of the window, trying to ignore his disturbing closeness.
    â€œThere’s no need,” he replied sounding amused, “there’s a dishwasher.” He indicated the machine standing in the corner of the room.
    â€œThen I’ll load everything into that,” said Isabel crossing to the dishwasher and proceeding to stack the dishes inside. Her task finished, she straightened up, only to find herself about an inch away from him, her eyes level with the knot in his tie.
    â€œLook at me,” he commanded curtly.
    Against her will Isabel reluctantly looked up, her annoyed gaze disintegrating before the disconcerting lights in his dark eyes. She tried, but couldn’t stop her mouth trembling slightly, as with a quiver she attempted to say lightly, “Well?”
    â€œWell,” he echoed slowly, “don’t I deserve a kiss for preparing and giving you dinner?” he asked.
    â€œI wasn’t aware that we had entered into any such agreement,” said Isabel. Her voice faltered and she quickly turned her head away, trying to avoid the mocking gleam in his eyes. “I reserve my kisses for people I like,” she said stiffly.
    â€œI see, you like Cliff Peterson,” he asked quickly, his voice stinging, “but not me?”
    â€œI didn’t say that,” replied Isabel, trying to keep her voice steady, wondering at the same time how it was that she had suddenly got herself into deep water! She shivered, chill fingers feathering along the length of her spine. “I like you both, but…”
    â€œThen why kiss him and not me?” he demanded, and putting his hand firmly beneath her chin he tilted her face to his. “I’ve tried to say sorry for today,” he said, “can’t you be nice to me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth came down on hers with a sort of hunger that shook her to the core of her being. She had been kissed before, but never before had any man’s kiss awakened such a tumultuous eruption of raw, untamed passion in her.
    Before she was aware of what was happening, she found she was kissing him back with a hunger that matched his, her slender arms sliding up around his neck, pulling his head closer to hers, her body yielding and pliant in his strong, sensuous hands. He wasn’t holding her tightly, against her will. She could have drawn away at any time, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to. His mouth, moving with a soft gentle sensuality over her own, was sending delicious tremors quivering throughout her being, alerting her capricious nerves to a height of awareness she never dreamt she even possessed. The kiss went on and on until she felt that she was melting and being fused into one with him.
    It was Mike Blakeney who drew away at last, his dark grey eyes looking down at her with something like mocking amusement gleaming in them as he said, “Don’t tell me you would have wanted to miss that?”
    Isabel felt herself blushing, flustered and shy beneath his derisory, but still sensual, gaze.