Dr Gabriel Devereux was the most delicious surprise!
Fearing that her legs would not hold her upright much
longer, Lauren leaned against the kitchen counter and affected what she hoped was a nonchalant pose. She didn’t
feel
remotely nonchalant. Any minute now she was going to do something uncharacteristically shocking, impulsive and embarrassing…like throw herself wantonly into his arms and ravish him.
Gabriel’s sudden arrival had taken her off guard. She was disconcerted that she had not been aware of his presence and wondered how long he had stood there watching her. But the fact that she had not seen him in the shadows and had only formed a distinct visual impression when he had stepped into the brightly lit kitchen stirred inner anxieties she was unwilling to deal with. That he was wearing only an ivory towel was a suitable diversion, however, and she grabbed the excuse to ignore her disturbing concerns, unable to resist the temptation to observe him in detail.
She saw bare bodies, or bits of bodies, every working day, but she had never seen one that made her heart hammer, her mouth water and that robbed her of breath as Gabriel’s did. Goodness! Her hands clung to the counter as she greedily inspected him. She feared she was about to melt into a puddle at his feet. Nice feet, too, she couldn’t help but notice. Very nice. Like the rest of him. Her gaze slowly climbed back up his scrumptious frame.
Strong, lean legs were braced hip-width apart and the towel slung low around his hips revealed a tantalising glimpse of pleasingly muscled, hair-brushed thighs. A narrow line of dark hair in the centre of his flat stomach dipped past his navel and disappeared below the towel. She licked her lips, resisting the urge to touch as she looked over his perfect athletic body, toned abdomen, well-defined chest and broad shoulders, all supple flesh and rippling muscle. He’d clearly just stepped out of the shower as droplets of water glistened on his delicious dark caramel skin, its colour hinting at a French
Caribbean ancestry. Lauren swallowed, battling against the overwhelming desire to press her lips to that warm, damp masculine flesh. She still remembered the faint scent of him when they had been close and shaken hands…tangy citrus soap and clean male, heady and earthy and arousing.
Topping six feet, he was more than impressive. The close-cropped dark hair suited him, accentuating the classically beautiful but supremely masculine bone structure of his face, the slash of high cheekbones, the straight nose and the carved lines of his jaw. Her palm itched to smooth over his head, to feel if the razor-short hair was rough or soft to the touch. His mouth was undeniably sexy, his bronze lips sensually curved and designed for kissing. She yearned to press her own against them, to learn the shape and feel and taste of him.
Twin dimples creased his cheeks when he smiled, while laughter lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, adding character and hinting at an active sense of humour. Finally, she looked into those thickly lashed eyes. They were the richest brown she had ever seen. As Gabriel met and held her gaze, his pupils dilated, darkening the irises to the colour of finest coffee. The flare of masculine interest was unmistakable and caused a tightening ache of want in the pit of her stomach that was so strong and so sudden she barely suppressed a gasp.
What in the world had come over her? Yes, it had been a while since she had enjoyed male companionship. She had broken up with her long-term boyfriend, Martin Bennett, six months ago, but to all intents and purposes they had been apart a long time before that. They had gone their separate ways amicably, both knowing their lingering on-again-off-again relationship had been based more on old friendship than grand passion and had been leading nowhere. Martin was desperate to get out of Cornwall, to explore and experience new things, while Lauren was content to remain in Penhally, enjoying her job, her friends and her hobbies, including her painting.
Unwelcome and worrying thoughts intruded once more. She hadn’t painted much lately and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to face the reasons why. Determinedly, she returned her full attention to the exquisite man before her, a quiver running through her at his thorough inspection, as if he had touched her physically.
Since midwife Kate Althorp had met Gabriel at Nick’s house in the summer, she had reported that Penhally was in for a treat when the French doctor arrived in their midst. Kate’s comments had caused some of their colleagues to tease Lauren about her soon-to-be neighbour. Lauren had ignored the ribbing. But now she could acknowledge first hand that Kate had not been exaggerating. Dear heaven, the man was
gorgeous
!
That Gabriel Devereux would be close by, at home and at work, for the next twelve months was wonderfully thrilling. Already the year ahead was filled with new and unexpected possibilities. Everything feminine within her stood to attention and all the hormones that had been switched off and uninterested since long before her split from Martin now started doing a happy dance like over-enthusiastic cheerleaders. She looked into Gabriel’s eyes, excited by the answering desire she saw there. Oh, yes! She was most definitely interested! She just hoped he was in England alone, uninvolved, and had no wife or girlfriend tucked away at home in France.
‘It is kind of you to bring things for the kitchen, Lauren,’ Gabriel said, the dimples forming in his lean cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
She could drown in that smile. And as for his accent, the way he said her name…He made her tingle all over. His English was perfect but delivered with a soft burr and all the Gallic charm imaginable. There was so much she wanted to learn about him but she reined in her rush of questions, scared that she would frighten him away before he’d even properly arrived. There would be time in the days and weeks ahead to
explore the inexplicable and immediate connection she felt with this man. Or so she hoped. Better to play it cool for now.
‘It’s no trouble,’ she answered, not sure how she managed to form any words at all, let alone sensible ones. ‘I promised Nick I would make sure you had all you needed.’
Relaxed and at ease, he folded his arms across his chest, the play of muscle distracting her. ‘Thank you. I am sorry I took you by surprise arriving early.’
‘No problem.’ Returning his smile, she couldn’t prevent herself looking over his superb body once more. Oh, it was no problem at all!
‘Are you also responsible for airing the house and providing the clean linen and towels?’
‘Yes.’ Almost overcome with nervous anticipation, she tucked some strands of hair behind one ear, her hand unsteady. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Very much so. I was planning to ask the solicitor who to thank for making the house feel so welcoming.’
‘I’m glad to help,’ she assured him, warmed through and pleased by his thoughtfulness.
He watched her for a long moment, then glanced at the greyhound who whined and nudged against her legs. ‘And who is your companion?’
‘This is Foxy. He lost his owner in the flood and was found distressed after searching the rubble,’ she explained, a catch in her voice as she gently stroked the dog. ‘Both the RSPCA and Lizzie Chamberlain, who runs the local kennels, were overrun with extra work and animals needing help during the crisis. Foxy was always nervous of people, but he knew me and we bonded, so I was happy to give him a home. He’s adjusting but still wary. At least he’s started eating again. He needs time and lots of love.’
The approval and flash of admiration in Gabriel’s eyes made her feel good. She held her breath as he turned his attention to
Foxy. Speaking softly, he hunkered down and held out his hand for the dog to sniff. Calm and patient, he waited for the dog to be comfortable, making no sudden moves. Lauren was surprised and delighted when Foxy inched forward and allowed Gabriel to touch him, something he had permitted few people but her to do in the last ten days. Slowly he was forming a tentative bond with her friends Chloe and Oliver. Foxy’s current reaction and his instinct to trust Gabriel was more than interesting and told her much about this intriguing man.
As if satisfied with the early progress, Gabriel didn’t push things, moving carefully back and rising before returning his attention to her, causing her heart to pound once more.
‘Nick mentioned the flood in an email but I had no idea how bad things were. I was shocked when I drove through town.’ He paused, a pout of consideration shaping his mouth and giving her all manner of wicked ideas. ‘Are you busy this afternoon, Lauren? Do you have plans?’
‘No. Why?’ She was filled with sudden hope that she might be able to spend more time with Gabriel. She wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
‘I was going to make myself a late lunch. Will you join me? It would be good to talk, to learn more about Penhally and the surgery…and what has gone on in the last couple of weeks.’
Not wanting to appear as shamefully eager as she felt, she forced herself not to rush her agreement. Maybe Gabriel’s reasons for asking her to linger weren’t all she had hoped for, but at this point she would accept any opportunity to enjoy his company. Who knew where things might lead?
‘OK.’ She cursed the breathlessness of her voice but could do nothing to temper her excitement. ‘I can stay a while longer.’
At Lauren’s confirmation, Gabriel felt a wash of relief course through him and he expelled the breath he had not realised he had been holding. He was nowhere near ready to let her go.
This was ridiculous. He felt like some gauche sixteen-year-old boy with a crush, rather than the thirty-six-year-old man he really was. Then Lauren looked over him once more and his body instantly heated and tightened in response, as if her touch had been an actual caress. He hoped the loose towel hid the evidence of the arousing effect she had on him.
‘Give me five minutes to get dressed,’ he requested as he turned away and headed to the door.
‘Gabriel?’
Her soft voice halted him and he glanced back. ‘Yes?’
‘I could prepare a quick meal while you’re gone,’ she offered.
‘Are you sure?’
Her head bobbed in assent. ‘It’s no trouble. Is there anything you don’t like?’
Dieu!
He couldn’t imagine anything Lauren could suggest that he wouldn’t like, but he managed to focus his attention on food. ‘Mushrooms, shellfish and red meat,’ he informed her, catching her surprised smile.
‘Me, too.’ Mischief gleamed in her eyes. ‘And I confess I’m not keen on boiled cabbage, tapioca or mushy peas either.’
‘Believe me, Lauren, you are not alone!’ Chuckling, he left the room.
‘I certainly hope not—not any more.’
Had he really heard those final whispered words? And could they mean what he hoped they did? He was confused by his instinctive response to this woman. It was unlike him. And that was disturbing. He’d not been so spontaneously attracted to anyone for years—if ever. The timing was unfortunate. He had never considered such a thing happening to him, especially not while part of his world was in turmoil and he had decisions to make about his future. Coming here was meant to give him space to declutter his life, not add more complications to it.
But he couldn’t deny the way his body had reacted to the
sight, scent and sound of Lauren Nightingale. Anxious to dress and return to the kitchen as quickly as possible, Gabriel hurried up the stairs. Had he dreamed it all? What if the sizzle of electricity between himself and Lauren had been a figment of his overactive imagination? What if it wasn’t? He was here for a year. To work. To think. Did he even want to consider any kind of involvement? He hadn’t been at the Manor House an hour and already he was feeling alive at an unexpected awareness, filled with a sense of wary excitement at the possibilities that might lie ahead.
Perhaps it had just been too long since he had dated a woman. After his most recent experience with Adèle, and with his mother’s continued interference, he had become cautious, untrusting. But that had been a year ago. And Lauren knew nothing about his life—or his family circumstances. More importantly, Yvette, his mother, knew nothing about Lauren. If anything happened between them, it would be because of who and what they were…no ulterior motives, no deception, no scheming.
Unzipping a suitcase, he pulled out fresh clothes and dressed in record time, favouring casual jeans and a warm cashmere jumper. As he made his way out of his bedroom, tantalising aromas teased his senses and sharpened his hunger, and he increased his pace, keen to discover both the food awaiting him and the intriguing woman who was preparing it.
Lauren occupied his thoughts. He would be cautious about rushing into anything, but he wanted to spend time with her, to get to know her better. If the connection and charge of desire he had felt between them
was
real…
L
AUREN
set the plate of food she had prepared on the table in the rustic kitchen and tried very hard not to stare at Gabriel. An impossible feat. He looked almost as gorgeous with his clothes
on
…and just as impressive. The sweater he wore—over the kind of faded, body-hugging jeans that ought to be made illegal, so lethal were they to a woman’s blood pressure—looked expensive, the mulberry colour warming and flattering the espresso-coffee tones of his skin.
He sat down, a quizzical expression on his face as he noted she had only laid one place. ‘You are not eating, Lauren?’
‘No.’ The breathlessness was back in her voice—an uncharacteristic reaction that seemed to afflict her at every sight and sound of Gabriel Devereux. ‘I met up with friends in town. We had soup and sandwiches at the farmers’ market.’
‘But you will join me here, yes?’ He drew out the chair nearest to him before extending a hand and inviting her to sit.
Gratified by his suggestion to be near him, Lauren hastened to take her seat, hoping she looked far less flustered than she felt. ‘Thank you.’ For goodness’ sake. She was a thirty-year-old woman, not some blushing schoolgirl!
‘Forgive me tucking right in, I’m hungrier than I thought.’ The appreciative look he sent her, and the readiness of his
smile, heated her right through. So much for cool, calm maturity. ‘This looks and smells wonderful.’
Cooking was not her greatest talent, but Gabriel gave every evidence of liking her food. She’d made him a simple omelette with cheese and chives, serving it with a warmed granary roll, plus a tomato, rocket and watercress salad…all fresh ingredients she had picked up on her shopping trip that morning. He was eating with relish, his enjoyment making her smile with relief. And she had even more to be grateful for, she admitted to herself—she’d not had any accidents or set fire to the kitchen which, given her current run of clumsy
faux pas
, was a major achievement.
Foxy, having quenched his thirst from the bowl of water she had set down for him, now sprawled his long, too-skinny body beside her chair, his paws twitching in his sleep, blissfully unconcerned by the electrically charged atmosphere crackling between the two humans. Lauren couldn’t help but be aware of it. Aware of Gabriel. She was glad she had made herself some tea. It gave her something to do with her hands. Anything to avoid the temptation—the compulsion—to touch him. She cupped the mug, watching from beneath her lashes as he finished his meal. When she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip of her drink, she looked up to find mocha eyes watching her intently, and a fresh dart of feminine recognition zinged through her body.
‘That was delicious.’ Gabriel’s smile and sexy accent undid her every time. ‘Thank you, Lauren.’
‘My pleasure.’
After taking a drink from his glass of water, he turned so he was facing her, giving her his undivided attention. She could feel fresh heat tinge her cheeks. ‘It seems a long time since breakfast.’
‘Did you come over from France this morning?’ she ventured, struggling to appear cool and composed.
‘I took the chance of an earlier ferry from Cherbourg to Poole yesterday, then I stayed the night with an old friend in Bournemouth before driving down here today.’
A bleakness shadowed his eyes, so fleeting it was gone before she could be sure. But she was left with a sense that there was more to Gabriel’s departure from France than he had let on. She wondered what had happened, and whether there was a woman involved.
Instead of satisfying her curiosity and asking outright, she endeavoured to be more subtle. ‘Wouldn’t getting a ferry to Plymouth have been easier?’
‘Not really. Cherbourg is only about thirty or forty minutes from where I was based in St Ouen-sur-Mer. If I had gone to Plymouth, it would have meant a long drive through France to Roscoff and almost twice as long for the Channel crossing.’ His eyes twinkled as he sent her a wry smile. ‘I am not the best traveller on ferries! And I prefer to be in control of my own destiny. Besides, the drive down from Dorset to Cornwall today gave me the opportunity to reaccustom myself to English roads.’
‘How did you come to take this job?’ she asked, propping her chin in one hand as she looked at him.
‘I volunteered.’ Pushing his empty plate aside, he leaned closer and rested one forearm on the table. ‘I was only working in St Ouen-sur-Mer on a temporary basis to help out a friend from medical school. François is head of the clinic and his wife, Celeste, is also a doctor there. Another of the partners, Marianne, had a baby last Christmas and was on maternity leave. Then, in early January, François badly broke his leg in a skiing accident. He was having trouble finding a replacement doctor, so he called me. As I had reason to leave Paris for a while, I was happy to provide cover. I’ve been there ever since. But now François is back on his feet and Marianne is ready to return to work. It was time for me to move on.’
‘I see,’ Lauren murmured, toying with the handle of her mug. Clearly Gabriel was loyal to his friends and ready to help in a crisis, but she wondered what had made him so eager to leave Paris in a hurry at the start of the year. He had sounded relieved to have received François’s initial call…and now to be in Cornwall.
‘When the position came up to work here for a year, I was interested in taking it,’ he continued, and she lost herself in the sound of his huskily accented voice, captivated by the way he looked at her, maintaining eye contact as though she was interesting and important to him. ‘I speak English—’
‘Perfect English,’ she interjected, halting his explanation.
An amused smile curved his mouth at her praise. ‘Thank you,
chérie
.’
‘Sorry, I interrupted you.’ She smothered a groan of embarrassment.
‘That’s all right.’ Her skin tingled as Gabriel briefly reached out and whispered his fingertips across the back of her hand. She sucked in a shaky breath and struggled to concentrate as he continued to speak about his reasons for moving to Penhally. ‘I was the only doctor at the clinic who was single and without commitments…the others did not want to uproot their families to come here. And I’ve worked in England before—in London. I enjoyed it, but I was eager to experience small-town, rural medicine, too.’
Again Lauren thought there was more to the story than he had told her, but she was exceedingly glad he was here. She had also noted with a shiver of hopeful anticipation his comment that he was single and had no commitments. Surely that was a good sign? She had no idea why, but she had felt a deep connection with and recognition of this man from the outset.
‘So, Lauren, tell me about the flood.’ Gabriel broke the silence, drawing her from her thoughts. ‘What happened?
How much damage has there been? You said Foxy’s owner was tragically killed but was anyone else hurt?’
Lauren huffed out a breath, taking a few moments as she wondered where to begin recounting the events of that never-to-be-forgotten and emotional day.
As Gabriel waited for Lauren to speak, he resisted the fierce urge to keep touching her, remembering how silky her skin had felt beneath his fingers. Instead, he reflected on what he had told her about himself and his reasons for coming to Cornwall, hoping he had said enough to curb her interest without giving away any of his secrets…or his inner turmoil.
It was true that the request from François in January to help out in his clinic on Normandy’s west coast could not have come at a better time. He had been deeply sorry for the injury that had caused François so many problems, but his friend’s need had provided Gabriel with the chance to leave Paris—and Yvette—far behind. Time away to come to terms with all he had suddenly learned about his family, and to put space between himself and home, had been exactly what he had needed. But that space had not proved great enough, so the offer to work in Penhally Bay had been even more welcome. The width of the English Channel would surely be a suitable barrier. Here in Cornwall he felt he could breathe again and hear himself think.
His early departure from France had been sparked by another summons from home—one more demand, one more threat he had chosen to ignore. Things were increasingly strained with his mother. Not that Yvette Devereux had ever been particularly
motherly
towards him, he reflected with a cynical twist of his lips. She had never been the warm, nurturing and understanding type, but always stiff, distant, with her rigid view of duty and propriety. Now he knew why.
A light touch on his arm startled him from his disturbing
thoughts and he glanced up to find Lauren watching him with a frown on her face.
‘Are you all right, Gabriel?’
‘Yes, of course.’ His skin felt warm and alive long after her fingers had been withdrawn. He managed a smile, grateful for the interruption and thankful to push family troubles to the back of his mind again. ‘I was miles away. Please, you were going to explain the events of the last couple of weeks.’
‘You hear about these things happening, but you never expect them to affect your own community,’ she began, a serious tone to her voice. ‘We had no warning. The sky went black, there was thunder and lightning, and the most torrential rain I’ve ever seen or heard. It poured off everything. Combined with the run-off inland, something collapsed upstream and the deluge swelled watercourses, causing a flash flood that swept away everything in its path. The river Lanson burst its banks, funnelling massive amounts of earthy-black water laden with debris down through the centre of Penhally, hitting us full force.’
‘What happened to you?’ Gabriel asked with concern, noting how Lauren shivered, rubbing her forearms in reaction. ‘Were you caught out in it?’
‘I was lucky. I was visiting a patient at the time. The power went out, the telephone lines were down and mobile phone coverage was patchy, but I received a message to go to one of the two evacuation points. I spent the rest of the time at the school, helping out.’ She raised her gaze to his, her eyes registering grief. ‘It was really frightening. People were missing, we didn’t know what had happened to friends. There were a number of minor injuries, some more serious ones…and two people died.’
Gabriel listened to Lauren’s explanation of the disaster with shock. ‘
Dieu
. I had no idea things were so bad,’ he murmured, taking one of her trembling hands in his, needing
to comfort, to touch her. ‘I am so sorry. It must have been horribly traumatic and such a loss for the whole community.’
‘Yes, it was. Is.’ Hearing the waver in her voice, he tightened his hold on her hand, linking their fingers and brushing the pad of his thumb across her wrist. ‘Audrey Baxter was one of our regular patients at the surgery. Elderly and with health problems, she was a bit of a busybody but she meant well. She had recently taken Foxy in as a companion from the rescue centre and having him helped her emotional well-being considerably. They helped each other, I suppose. Anyway, Audrey was caught outside when the flash flood came. She never stood a chance with that wall of water. The local vicar, Reverend Kenner, plunged in to try to save her, but he was lost, too, when the end of the Anchor Hotel collapsed on them. He was such a good man. He did a great deal for this community. And it was tragic for his daughter, Rachel. She’s just a teenager, and with her mother dying a few years ago her father was all she had. They were very close. Now she’s pregnant and alone. Her aunt and uncle in Plymouth are caring for her.’
‘Lauren,’ he murmured, wishing he had the words to ease the pain and horror of what she and the rest of the town had been through.
‘It’s all so unfair!’
‘I know.’ He stroked her arm, aware of the softness of her skin and the beat of her pulse. ‘Sometimes it is impossible to understand why these things happen.’
Her fingers returned the pressure of his and she looked at him with a sorrowful smile. ‘That’s the truth.’ She shook her head, a sigh escaping.
‘Thank goodness you had such excellent rescue aid or things could have been even worse for the town.’
‘Yes, we were very grateful. I think people are finding it hard to accept we’ve been affected like this again. It’s not that
long since Penhally’s last great tragedy. The big storm ten years ago took many lives, including those of Kate Althorp’s husband James and Nick Tremayne’s father and brother.’
‘How are people coping now?’ Gabriel asked after a short silence, one that saw them both lost in thought.
‘A lot are still displaced after the flood. The caravan park above the cliffs on Mevagissey Road has taken in several families, while others are staying with relatives and friends or renting temporary accommodation.’
‘It looked as though much has been done to begin clearing up.’
Lauren nodded, her voice stronger again now. ‘Everyone has worked very hard. It’s amazing the mess and damage water can cause. I think it will be months before some of the homes are fit to be lived in again.’
‘Many of your patients must be needing extra care and understanding,’ Gabriel allowed, looking down at their joined hands, thankful that Lauren had not pulled away.
‘Yes, there’s been trauma and anxiety. And it’s hard for some to come to terms with losing irreplaceable and sentimental possessions. We also had to be careful because of things like polluted water and so on as some people failed to heed the safety advice in the aftermath.’
Gabriel watched as she tucked a couple of wayward strands of hair behind her ear. Adjusting his hold on her hand, he played with her fingers and traced a circle on her palm with his thumb, aware of the growing connection between them.
‘So, tell me about your regular patients,’ he suggested after a few moments, relieved to see a lightening of her expression.
He listened with interest as Lauren talked of little Timmy Morrison, nearly five months old and diagnosed at birth with cystic fibrosis, of eleven-year-old Paul Mitchell, coping spiritedly with Duchenne muscular dystrophy, and of older patients like Harry Biscombe in sheltered accommodation at
Gow Court, with osteoporosis, whom she had been visiting when the flood had hit, and Stella Chamberlain, currently in the Harbour View Nursing Home with Parkinson’s disease.