If she had a boyfriend, it was someone tame and safe, he decided. Someone who hadn’t taught her the meaning of passion.

‘Well—I’ve held you up long enough. Morning surgery can be a long one.’ Her gaze slid to his legs, encased in black leather. ‘You know, people might feel more comfortable with you if you changed.’

‘I am who I am, Flora.’

‘I meant your clothes.’ She pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. ‘You could change your clothes.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘Because the patients expect a doctor to look like a doctor.’

‘Flora.’ He failed to keep the amusement out of his voice. ‘It wouldn’t matter whether I was wearing a set of theatre scrubs or a white coat, the inhabitants of Glenmore would still struggle to believe that Bad Conner is a doctor. Just as you’re struggling.’

‘I’m not. Not any more. But I don’t see why you should confirm their prejudices by dressing like a biker.’ She flushed. ‘Do you always have to antagonise people? Break the rules?’

‘Yes. I think I probably do.’ Conner watched her. ‘Just as you always like to please people and do everything that is expected of you. In our own ways we’re the same, you and I. We’re both working hard to meet society’s expectations of us.’

She looked at him, her dark eyes reproachful. ‘There’s nothing wrong in being part of a community.’

‘True. But neither is there anything wrong with not being part of it,’ he said gently. ‘Do you really think the way I’m dressed is going to compromise my ability as a doctor?’

‘No. Of course not. It’s just that you look—’ She broke off and he knew he shouldn’t follow up on that comment but he couldn’t help himself.

‘How do I look, Flora? Tell me. I want to know what you think of the way I look.’

She looked hot and flustered. ‘I-intimidating,’ she stammered, eventually. ‘I wouldn’t want to bump into you on a dark night.’

‘Is that right?’ Conner gave a slow smile and gave up trying to subdue his wicked streak. ‘In that case, we’ll have to make sure that we leave the lights on, angel.’

* * *

He was impossible and she was never going to be able to work with him.

Flora tried to concentrate on the dressing and not reveal how shaken she was by her encounter with Conner. He’d played with her, toyed with her carelessly, like a predator having fun with its prey before a kill. And as usual she hadn’t been able to think of the right thing to say because she’d been trying to sort out surgery business and he’d been—well, he’d been Conner. Selfish, indifferent and supremely cool. Just the thought of him seeing patients—or not seeing patients—in the room next door unsettled her.