He had been working in her A and E for all of three weeks and she hadn't failed to notice the way he looked at her. His bright, green eyes hardly left her whenever they worked together. Those eyes, she noticed, were quite possibly the most striking eyes she'd ever seen on anybody, ever. They complimented his dark hair and lightly tanned skin in a way that made her wonder why on earth he worked for the NHS instead of some upmarket modelling company. As he brushed past her before handing her a coffee, she inhaled, watching how his muscles flexed underneath his perfectly fitting shirt.
"Thought you could do with this Mrs. Beauchamp," he smiled, his serious face, now highlighted by his smile,
"Thank you, and please, it's Connie," she replied,
"Connie," he repeated quietly, his Irish accent making her shiver. Not visibly she hoped.
"So what are you doing tonight?" he asked, as they moved around each other in the large A and E, not quite touching.
She shrugged, "Can I tell you something?" she asked, watching as he stepped closer to her as he nodded, his head dipping so he could watch her more intently,
"I'm at somewhat of a loss of what to do," she admitted, "I dropped my lovely daughter at her fathers this morning, and I just can't bring myself to attend my friend's New Year's Eve party without a date," she smiled, stopping herself from reaching out and touching his face. "What are you doing Mr. Harding?"
He bit back a comment about spending the night with her and shrugged, "I too, find myself at a bit of a lose end," he replied,
"Gone are the days spent seeing in the New Year getting horribly drunk and dancing hey?" She smiled, her eyes capturing his all over again,
"Forgive me, and please feel free to tell me where to stick my Irish charm, but how about we spend this evening together?" He laughed, before shaking his head, "Not like that… erm… I know a beautiful restaurant overlooking the harbour… the manager owes me a favour,"
"You must have millions of women wanting to take you out… why me?" she asked, closing the gap between them subconsciously,
"Because you happen to be the most wonderful surgeon I've worked with in a long time, if ever… and because you look beautiful stood there in those scrubs," he uttered, his voice trailing off as Cal entered the ED.
She blushed, something that didn't go unnoticed by Patrick, "Okay," she smiled, "As long as I don't have to wear my scrubs to dinner,"
He shook his head, "No… shall I pick you up at eight?"
She nodded, writing down her address and handing it to him on a Holby City post-it, "I'll see you at eight,"
He smiled, his fingertips brushing her own as he took the post-it from her perfectly manicured hands. He was unable to resist capturing her hands in his own, slipping his much larger fingers in-between his, his thumb stroking her own, "I look forward to it," he whispered into her ear, his breathe tickling her neck. She dipped her head, before turning and leaving the ED, trying to remember the last time a man had made butterflies flutter their wings in her stomach like that.