Risk of a Lifetime (Mills & Boon Medical) (5 page)

He chuckled. ‘You really need to learn to take a compliment, Annie.’

Well, no, she didn’t. She’d had compliments, bucketloads of them, but they’d all been lies and frankly she didn’t care if she never heard another one. As she’d pointed out to him, being suspicious was a habit.

‘Sorry. I don’t trust compliments.’

He frowned, opened his mouth as if to say something and then shut it again, but his eyes were frank and assessing, and she got the feeling there wasn’t much he didn’t see.

And that made her uneasy. She didn’t want to be the object of his scrutiny, so she changed the subject fast.

‘So—remind me of the plot?’

One of those strong, dark eyebrows quirked, but he let her get away with it.

‘Oh, it’s crazy. Two daffy old sisters who poison their lodgers and bury them in the cellar in graves dug by a brother who thinks he’s Teddy Roosevelt and he’s digging the Panama Canal, and another brother who’s in love with the preacher’s daughter. I haven’t seen it for years but it’s very, very funny.’

‘It sounds chaotic. I was trying to remember if I’d ever seen it, but I don’t think I have. What a shame about Elizabeth’s fall.’

‘Mmm. They were really looking forward to it. She’s doing OK, by the way. I rang a little while ago and she was out of surgery and back on the ward and it all went well.’

‘Good. Well, here’s to them.’

She raised her glass, and he clinked his against it and held her eyes with his as he took the first sip.

They smouldered slightly—or was it just her imagination? She looked away, suddenly conscious of his nearness in the now-crowded bar, and she felt the warmth from her brisk walk beginning to make itself felt.

‘Gosh, it’s getting hot in here,’ she said, peeling off her cardi and slinging it over her arm.

‘It’ll be warm in the auditorium, too. We’d better drink up and go and find our seats.’

‘Good idea.’ She drained her glass, felt the wine hit her system and wished she’d had a little more to eat before she’d come out. All she needed was to trip over the steps and fall flat on her face.

But she didn’t fall, and he held her elbow and ushered her politely to her seat, folding it down for her and then sitting after she was settled.

Bone-deep good manners.

And suddenly she felt safer, less threatened, because for all he was gorgeous, he’d said and done nothing to make her feel uncomfortable. It was just her own reaction to him, and she could manage that. It was under her control.

It would be fine.

And it was, right up until the time the lights dimmed, the audience went quiet and her arm brushed against his in the narrow seats.

He’d taken off his jacket, turned back his sleeves and the soft hairs on his forearm teased her skin, making the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

Heat shot through her, and she shifted subtly, moving slightly out of his way, but there was someone on the other side who was taking the whole armrest, so she shifted back again, right into the warm, fragrant air that surrounded him, the scent of cologne drifting over her and making her want to lean closer and breathe him in.

She resisted the urge, just folded her hands in her lap to keep her elbows out of mischief, and then the action on stage caught her attention and she made herself forget about him and let the experience take over.

* * *

‘That was so, so funny.’

‘Wasn’t it? Utterly hilarious. Very physical. I’m surprised some of the cast haven’t been in to see us before now. They did Alan Ayckbourn’s
Noises Off
when I was in Nottingham, and someone came in with a broken leg from falling down the stairs one too many times.’

‘Ouch. The things they do for their art.’ Annie tugged her cardi closer round her shoulders as they headed for the street. ‘Gosh, it’s cooled off. I am an idiot, I nearly brought a jacket but I was running late and it seemed quite warm at seven.’

‘Here.’

Before she could protest, she felt the weight of his blazer draped around her shoulders, warm from his body and carrying the scent of his cologne. It was like wearing him, and she breathed in slowly and drew the heady essence of him deep into her lungs.

‘Better?’

‘Much. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. I could make a wisecrack about you not dressing adequately, but I’m not that mean.’

‘No, of course not. Just for that, I won’t offer it back.’

‘Pride wouldn’t let me take it. And anyway, as I’ve already pointed out, you look lovely so it’s a small sacrifice.’

‘I’m sure you’ll live.’

‘I’m sure I will. But it does mean I have to walk you home to repossess it.’

He grinned at her with that little-boy grin, and she smiled back, her eyes softening. ‘That’s fine, I’ll let you. I don’t think you’re about to turn into a stalker. Thank you for taking me this evening, by the way.’

‘You’re welcome. Thank you for coming. You do realise if you hadn’t been able to, I would have been obliged to ask Kate.’

She laughed softly at his shudder. ‘Why didn’t you ask her in the first place? I can’t believe you’re really scared of her.’

He chuckled. ‘No contest. It was you or Kate, and you were the obvious choice. Apart from the fact that Jerry gave us the tickets and not Kate, I’d far rather be with you. I think we have the same sense of humour.’

‘And Kate doesn’t?’

His mouth quirked. ‘Kate isn’t interested in humour. She just wants my body.’

Annie spluttered and clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress the laugh. ‘That’s outrageous!’

‘It’s true. She as good as said so. I told her I wasn’t interested.’

‘She’ll be gutted. She fell in love with you yesterday when she saw you through the glass.’

He chuckled, but there was a tinge of colour on his neck and it made her smile.

‘So—just out of curiosity,’ she asked after a moment of companionable silence, ‘and feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but who was your grandmother putting to bed?’

‘Ah. My grandfather. He’s—’ Ed broke off, and his face looked troubled.

‘Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.’

‘That’s OK. He’s in a wheelchair and he’s a bit difficult to deal with sometimes.’

She nodded slowly. ‘Is that why you’re here? To help with caring for him?’

He looked down at her, surprised by her intuition, but maybe he shouldn’t have been because she seemed to be able to read him easily.

‘Yes,’ he told her, because it was the truth, if not the whole truth. ‘He’s going downhill fast now, and Marnie really can’t manage any longer, but she’s determined to look after him herself. I don’t know how long he’s got, but I promised her I’d be around for her until he’s gone.’

‘And then?’

He shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

‘So do you live with them?’

He shook his head, surprising her. ‘No. I’ve got my own place closer to the hospital. I’m renting it from the Walkers. He’s an obstetrician. James put me in touch with them when he offered me the job.’

‘And does she mind? Your grandmother?’

‘No,’ he said, but he wasn’t sure it was true. ‘She would probably rather have had the company, but I told her I needed to be nearer the hospital and she was OK with it.’

‘So where do they live?’

‘On the clifftop near the golf club.’

She frowned. ‘But—that’s only about a mile or so away from the hospital.’

‘I know, but mine is closer, and that’s five minutes in an emergency, and she hasn’t questioned it. And I needed my own space.’

‘And you couldn’t say so.’

He smiled wryly. ‘No. Not directly. Not like that.’

Annie nodded slowly. ‘Families are tricky things. Juggling all the obligations. The guilt.’

‘Tell me about it.’ He looked down at her again as they strolled slowly along the pavement. ‘So where does your mother live?’

‘With me. Or, rather, we live with her. I’ve got two daughters. Twins. Chloe and Grace. They’re nearly three. She took early retirement and moved down to London to help me when I went back to work, and we lived in my rented flat, but then my grandmother needed more support so we moved back up here to Mum’s bungalow when a job came up last summer. I’ve been here nearly a year and it’s been brilliant, but we couldn’t afford a big enough house for all of us so we’re living in Mum’s for now until I’ve cleared my debts from my maternity leave. It’s a bit crowded, though, and sometimes I just long for my own space.’

He nodded. ‘I can understand that. Even if it’s just for a short while every day, it’s important, and I imagine that’s even more true with twins. That’s pretty hard-core parenting, I should imagine, especially in the early days.’ He hesitated for a minute, then went on, ‘And their father?’

‘Not part of our lives,’ she said firmly, and he heard the door slam firmly closed.

That was fine. He had enough no-go areas in his own life to understand she had hers, but it didn’t stop him despising a man who could abandon his own children. Some people didn’t know how lucky they were.

She’d come to a halt, pausing in front of a small detached bungalow in a leafy avenue just around the corner from his rented house.

‘This is me,’ she said, and he opened the garden gate and walked her to the door. The porch light wasn’t on and the area was shaded from the streetlight by a tree, creating an intimate little space.

Too intimate.

Suddenly the air was filled with tension, crackling with electricity, heavy with expectation and suppressed emotion. His? Hers?

Both?

He couldn’t kiss her. It would be crazy. They were colleagues. He’d told his grandmother that. Hell, he’d told Kate that, and he didn’t want to muddy the waters at work.

But he wanted to kiss her.

Despite all his best intentions, despite the serious talking-to he’d given himself the night before, he wanted to kiss her.

And she wanted to kiss him. He could feel it, in the tension coming off her in waves, in the hesitation, the breathless sense of anticipation.

He reached for her, his hands pausing briefly on her shoulders, then common sense intervened and he slipped the jacket off her shoulders and stepped back.

‘Goodnight, Annie. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

For a nano-second she didn’t move, but then he felt the tension snap and she nodded, slipped her key in the lock and vanished inside the door, closing it softly in his face.

He let his breath out on a long, slow sigh, turned on his heel and walked back to the pavement. He hesitated, then turned right instead of left and walked slowly along the quiet streets towards his grandparents’ house, deep in thought.

He hadn’t kissed her. He’d so nearly done it, but then at the last second he’d bottled out.

No. Not bottled out. Come to his senses, in the nick of time.

The wind picked up, the sea breeze teasing his skin with cool fingers. He shrugged into his jacket, and it was still warm from her body, the scent of her perfume lingering on the fabric, and he realised he hadn’t come to his senses at all. He’d just delayed the inevitable.

CHAPTER THREE

A
NNIE
LEANT
AGAINST
the front door and blew her breath out slowly.

She’d been
sure
he was going to kiss her, and when he’d moved in like that, reached out for her, she’d
known
he was going to.

And then he’d lifted the jacket off her shoulders.

She’d forgotten about the jacket. Forgotten about all sorts of things, like the fact that
it wasn’t a date
and
she wasn’t interested in him
and
she didn’t do this with anyone, especially not a work colleague!

She groaned softly and buried her face in her hands, just as her mother came out of the sitting room.

‘Annie?’

She lifted her head, brushing her hair back off her face, and smiled. ‘Hi. How were the girls?’

‘Fine.’ Her eyes were searching. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes, of course. I’m just a bit tired all of a sudden.’

‘It’s not sudden, you’re always tired. You have a hectic job. So, how was it? The play?’

‘Hilarious. Very, very funny. It’s a nice theatre, it’s all been done up. You ought to go.’

‘I might. I haven’t been in there for years. So, did you have ice cream? Someone at book group said it was very good.’

‘It was. Really creamy. I had strawberry. It was lovely.’

And Ed had had chocolate, and she’d asked him what it was like and without a word he’d scooped up a dollop and put it in her mouth.

With his spoon.

She’d felt herself melting faster than the ice cream.

‘Sorry—what?’

‘I said, was it local ice cream?’

Local
—? ‘Um—I’m not sure. It could have been. Why?’

‘Oh, the person at book group said something about that. You can buy it in farm shops round here, apparently, if it’s the one she thought. So, did your friend walk you home? I didn’t hear a car stop.’

OK. It hadn’t taken long, and she’d known it was coming, could almost see the antenna twirling slowly in the background. She nearly laughed at her mother’s predictability.

‘No, we walked. He was going this way. He lives near here.’

Which might not be a lie, but since he hadn’t actually told her where he lived, it was hard to know. But she wasn’t telling her mother about borrowing his jacket, or the almost-kiss that wasn’t. Using the word
he
was more than enough information.

‘Cup of tea?’ she asked, heading for the kitchen, and her mother followed her.

‘That would be nice. So, was this anyone I know of?’

‘The new guy,’ she said, busying herself with the mugs and teapot so she didn’t have to look her mother in the eye. ‘Ed. We were working on the patient together, and they gave us the tickets. It would have been hard to refuse—and, anyway, I never go out. I thought it might be fun. And it was.’

‘Well, it was nice of you to go with him. I expect he’s a bit lonely if he’s new to the area.’

‘Oh, he’s not, he knows it well. His family all live in the area and I think he was brought up here. That’s why he’s here—his grandfather’s not well. He helps his grandmother with him.’