Part 12 (1/2)

He picked her up and swung her round and round, ending up in the centre of the room.

'Put me down, Charlie,' Carrie protested, laughing hard and hanging on tight to his arms. She could feel the solid muscle beneath her hands and suppressed the urge to run her hand up under his sleeve.

Charlie placed her back on the floor, laughing. 'Thank you.' His heart was hammering and he was slightly breathless from his spontaneous act.

'My pleasure,' Carrie replied, and then wished she had chosen her words more carefully as she watched his gaze grow hot like molten metal and his pupils dilate.

'No, the pleasure was all mine.' Charlie noticed a flare of flame heat her whiskey eyes and her soft lips part. His gaze settled on her lips. They were full and moist and inviting and he wanted to kiss her. Very, very much. He remembered how responsive she'd been that night at her place and needed to feel her against him again.

'Carrie,' he whispered.

She felt caught in a bubble. The world faded away and there was just the two of them. Her mouth, her lips suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara and she moistened them, her tongue flicking out to wet them.

Charlie followed the darting movement and groaned. It was all the encouragement he needed. He dropped his head and claimed her mouth. It tasted like honey and he was instantly addicted. He deepened the kiss and a shot of adrenaline buzzed through his system as his tongue stroked across her bottom lip. He wanted more. He wanted to push her back against the table and feel her legs wrap around his waist. His hand trembled as it slid beneath her jacket and smoothed the soft silk of her blouse where her waist curved into her hip.

Carrie was drowning. Suffocating. Dying. This was madness. Pure madness. They had to stop. They were at work. But his mouth felt so good and his hand was hot where it touched her and she wanted him to move it higher. To feel the heat against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her nipples hardened instantly.

No! No! No! This was insane. Carrie wrenched her mouth away with difficulty, her chest heaving, her pulse points bounding. The look of naked desire in his gaze, the unsteadiness of his breath called to her and she took a step back out of temptation's reach.

'Carrie.' He took a step towards her.

His voice was husky and she felt a surge of heat between her legs. 'No.' She shook her head and held out her hand to ward him off.

The door opened and they both started. 'So, are the results in yet?' Joe asked, bustling into the room. 'Oh, hi, Carrie.' Joe walked between them, oblivious to the tension. 'It's OK, we can talk later,' he said, flicking on the kettle.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, his gaze not leaving Carrie's face. 'It's OK,' he said. 'Carrie knows.'

Joe leant against the sink. 'Oh, right. So?'

Charlie broke eye contact with Carrie and looked at Joe. 'Negative.'

'Aha! That's great.' Joe surged forward and wrapped his friend in a big bear hug. He slapped him on the back. 'Woohoo! After a year of abstinence it's going to be a hot time in the old town tonight, my friend.'

Charlie looked back towards Carrie, who was now busying herself with her things.

'We're still on for The Mill tonight?'

Charlie wasn't really listening to his friend. He was too busy watching Carrie withdraw into her sh.e.l.l. The woman who had just kissed him into oblivion hiding behind her papers and pinstripes.

'Charlie!'

'Hmm, what? Oh...yes,' he said distractedly.

Carrie ground her teeth as she powered up her laptop and then castigated herself for her reaction. Why wouldn't he be out there again? A year was a long time for a virile male to go without, wasn't it? She thought about her own nearly five-year record and felt suddenly depressed. It hadn't seemed to matter until now.

'Charlie.' Angela bustled into the room. 'Your first patient's here.'

'Right,' he said, still staring at Carrie. He willed her to look at him but she tapped away on her keyboard instead. 'See you later, Carrie,' he said.

'Uh-uh,' Carrie replied, staring resolutely at the screen.

Carrie dragged herself into work the next morning after a sleepless night. Every time she'd shut her eyes the kiss had replayed in her head and heat had surged through her body, making sleep impossible. And then she'd got angry with herself. She'd bet Charlie wasn't lying awake, tortured by images of their kiss. He was, no doubt, making out with some babe he'd picked up, their intimate moment completely forgotten in his rush to get laid.

But it became apparent quite quickly that Charlie was as grumpy, if not grumpier, than her. Carrie raised an eyebrow at Joe as Charlie snapped at him over something trivial and stormed back to his office.

'I take it no one fancied him last night?' The idea seemed ludicrous to her but he certainly wasn't acting like a man who'd spent a night divesting himself of a year's worth of s.e.xual frustration.

'Are you kidding? They were swarming. He just wasn't interested. If I were him, I would have been champing at the bit to clean out...' Joe stopped in mid-sentence, realising it was hardly an appropriate thing to say in front of a lady. 'Er...sorry, well, you get my gist.'

Carrie laughed. 'Yes, Joe. I get your gist.'

'I think celibacy has fried some of his brain cells.'

Carrie felt stupidly smug and surprisingly happy that Charlie hadn't cheapened their kiss by going out and finding himself a convenient warm body the very same day. Not that the kiss had meant anything, of course. It had just been a crazy spur-of-the-moment celebratory thing. Pure reaction to good news. A release of pent-up emotions. She knew that. But still...maybe it had meant more to him?

By lunchtime the next day, however, Carrie was wis.h.i.+ng Charlie had got laid. They all were. His mood seemed to get worse as each minute pa.s.sed. Angela and Joe were ready to have him committed. Joe had decided not to even come to the clinic and play basketball at lunchtime and Angela, who usually ate in the staffroom, decided that anywhere but the centre would be a good place to eat her lunch.

Carrie was working through lunch as usual, munching on a sandwich at the front desk while she performed a data search on Angela's computer. Two girls came rus.h.i.+ng in the front door.

'Help.'

Carrie looked up over the bench. One of the girls was heavily pregnant and clutching at her stomach. She didn't look any older than sixteen and was panting furiously.

'Charlie,' Carrie called, raising her voice as she rushed to the girl's aid. 'What's wrong?'

'She's having the baby.'

Charlie strode out of his office. 'Treatment room,' he urged.

'What's your name?' Carrie asked as she ushered the girls into the room.

'Donna,' the pregnant one panted, sobbing and panting at the same time.

'How pregnant are you?' Carrie asked, helping her up onto the high bed.

The girl cried out as another contraction swept through her and clutched at Carrie's shoulder.

'We don't know,' her friend said. 'She's never seen a doctor.'

Charlie saw the look of surprise on Carrie's face. It was common enough around these parts. The labouring girl looked like a street kid if her general unkempt appearance was anything to go by. Street kids rarely sought any antenatal care.

'How long have the pains been coming for?' Carrie kept going, her mind sorting methodically through the required information.

'They started about half an hour ago and they've just been getting worse.'

'Have her membranes ruptured?' Carrie asked.