Soliman, Wendy - The Name of the Game (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (21 page)

“And now I’ve made you cry.” He arrested a tear as it trickled down her face.

“Then you’d better make it up to me,” she said, tears giving way to sultry laughter as, once again, passion consumed her.

He pretended to be annoyed. “I suppose I better had.”

They showered together afterward. Then they had breakfast and went their separate ways. Even this precious weekend wasn’t to be spent exclusively alone. Matt had to go to the office for a few hours. Ashley quelled her disappointment. She hadn’t told him so, but she’d arranged the loan of a friend’s horse at her yard. She’d hoped that they’d hack out together, but let him go without argument. And without mentioning the horse.

“I’ll give Lucius a quick workout, and then I need to get back to my spreadsheets,” she said, not looking at him.

“Hey, it won’t always be like this.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms round her waist. “Put your glad rags on,” he said. “We’re going out tonight.”

“We are?” She turned to face him, not bothering to hide her surprise. “Anywhere nice?”

“You bet. I never did get to buy you that slap up birthday meal.”

“Oh, are you sure? Is it wise?”

“Who cares?”

“You do,” she said quietly.

“I’ll risk it, if you will.”

“Is that a challenge, Mr. Templeton?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” He kissed the top of her head. “Gotta run. See you later.”

The rest of the weekend flashed by. The meal in the upmarket restaurant Matt chose was every bit as special as he’d promised her it would be. She relished every second, having this Adonis sitting across from her at the candlelit table, making love to her with his eyes, entertaining her with stories about his misspent youth. Almost making her forget about his wife.

Almost.

They fell into bed when they got back to the flat but their lovemaking was interrupted by Matt’s phone ringing. It was Eve, of course. Ashley felt the passion drain out of her as she listened to Matt’s terse responses to his wife’s endless questions. Finally the call came to an end, and Matt turned to her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s almost as if she knew what we were doing,” Ashley said, shivering. “How else would she know to ring so late?”

“It’s just a coincidence,” he said, pulling her back into his arms. “Don’t let her come between us.”

Easy for you to say.
“What did she want?”

“Nothing really.”

“Well, there you are then.” Ashley refused to be mollified. “She’s a witch with second sight.”

Matt kissed her shoulder, his lips inevitably drifting lower. “Forget it, don’t let her win, Ash.” He sounded almost desperate.

“Does she often ring you after midnight?”

Matt shrugged. “She’s a law unto herself.”

“And unto me. I shall be back in the firing line next week.”

“Don’t forget that I’ll be down for a couple of days.”

“Oh yes, the big meetings on Wednesday and Thursday.” Ashley was cheered by the thought.

“I’ll keep her away from you on those days.”

“That’s what worries me,” Ashley said, aware that she sounded petulant, but unable to help it. "When I didn’t know her, I didn’t mind so much, thinking of the two of you together. It’s different now.”

“Nothing’s changed,” he said, pulling her against him and caressing her back with wonderfully soothing strokes of his large hands. “Except that I love you more than ever.”

Chapter Twelve

“You two are getting to act like an old married couple,” Sandy said, laughing as Ashley and Matt dropped Freckles off with her on Monday morning.

“Count on it,” Matt said, kissing Ashley and heading for the door. “See you Wednesday, babe,” he said, waving over his shoulder.

“You look happy,” Sandy said, giving Ashley a swift once over. “But not completely happy. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” Ashley grimaced. “Other than having to go to Southampton and face Matt’s bloody wife again.”

“I thought she was in the West Country.”

“She is, but I expect she’ll be back.”

“You don’t sound too sure. Doesn’t Matt know?”

“Not really. I don’t think he even asked. Anyway, we both know you can’t rely on anything Eve says. She enjoys her little mind games.”

“I was wrong about your Matt,” Sandy admitted, switching off the kettle. “It’s obvious that he’s nuts about you.”

Ashley felt a goofy grin spread across her face. “Yeah, he’s spent most of the weekend proving it, so I can’t argue with that.”

“He’ll be down in Southampton himself this week?”

“Yes.” Ashley grimaced. “We’ve all be working like crazy to prepare for big meetings with the other lot. I’m as ready as I can be. I’m just not sure if having Matt there will make things better or worse.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’ll be hard for him not to reveal his feeling for you.” Sandy handed Ashley a cup of steaming coffee. “The way he looks at you…well—”

“I don’t have time for coffee. I have to hit the road.”

“Course you do. You’ve spent half the weekend working. You can relax for five. Besides, the M25 will be gridlocked at this hour.”

“I suppose.” Ashley sat at the kitchen table and filched a biscuit from the open tin. “It’s all going to come to a head pretty soon now,” she said, almost as though she was trying to convince herself. “However the chips fall, Matt and I can go public then.”

It was another half hour before Ashley hit the road—and sat in gridlocked rush hour traffic. She couldn’t see any police cars anywhere near so pulled out her mobile and broke the law by making a call whilst behind the wheel. A harried-sounding woman answered the phone.

“Doctor’s surgery. How can I help?”

“Oh hello, I wondered if I could make an appointment to see Doctor Andrews.”

“Are you a patient?”

“Well no, I’m only in the area temporarily, but I need a repeat prescription for my thyroid medication.”

“Sorry, but Doctor Andrews is on holiday. The other doctors are all fully booked, and I can’t fit you in with one of them until the beginning of next week.”

Damn, just her luck. “Oh, never mind then. I’ll try somewhere else. Thanks anyway.”

She cut the connection, inched a few feet forward in the clogged traffic, and called another surgery. That doctor—the one who was listed as the G.P. for the other dead policyholder—was on holiday as well. Ashley tapped her fingers on her thigh, wondering if that was one coincidence too many. This particular doctor, Doctor Simpson, would be back on Wednesday and could see Ashley in the morning. She ought to be able to make the morning appointment and still be in time for the big meeting, just so long as the doctor wasn’t running late. When weren’t they? Still, she had to take the chance. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

The road ahead finally cleared, and she was able to take the exit that led to the M3. Traffic was heavy but flowing. She’d be in Southampton within the hour.

Charlie accosted her as soon as she got to her desk.

“Morning, angel,” he said, examining her face and grinning. “Looks like you had a relaxing time this weekend.”

“If you can call working all the hours God sent on your flaming spreadsheets relaxing,” she said, cursing her inability not to blush beneath his close scrutiny.

“You’re wedded to your work, Ms. Wilde.”

Ashley rolled her eyes, wishing like hell that he’d stop baiting her. “My dedication knows no bounds.”

“Come in at eleven, will you. We’re having a departmental meeting, just to go over a few things.”

“I’ll be there.”

As soon as he left her, Ashley fired up her computer to see what she could find out about the two doctors. She ought to have thought to do it at home, but having Matt there made her lose focus. Dr. Andrews was in partnership with three other doctors. There was a professionally posed picture of the four of them on a website for the practise, which not only served National Health patients, but also catered for those with medical insurance. Andrews was youngish, probably no older that forty, but had already lost most of his hair. He was tall and his dark-framed glasses made him look competent. He was the sort of health professional whom it would be easy to trust. She recognized Dr. Owen as the G.P. for the other claimant. He looked close to retirement age, solid and dependable. If one doctor in that practise had tampered with records, Ashley was willing to bet it was the younger man.

She went in search of information about Dr. Simpson next, and what she discovered came as a bit of a surprise. He was a she. Ashley had, for some reason, supposed that both doctors would be male. There was no picture of her, so Ashley had no idea how old she was. She had just one partner and dealt only with National Health patients.

Ashley fielded a few phone calls and caught up with the office manager, who had several issues to run past her and needed help preparing for Charlie’s meeting. An hour later, alone again, she returned to surfing the web, looking for something—anything—that linked the two doctors. She found it in the most unexpected place. Dr. Andrews worked as a consultant for a plastic surgeon, and there was a picture of him, attending some black-tie event pertaining to that industry. He was photographed with his wife.

Doctor Valerie Simpson.

Ashley felt a bolt of adrenalin surge through her. “The plot thickens,” she muttered.

Charlie walked past her desk at that precise moment and looked at her askance.

“You okay?” he asked. “You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

“Oh what, yes, fine thanks. I was just thinking, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?”

Charlie’s mirth gave way to a convincing expression of concern. “Hello, earth to Ashley. Are you receiving me?”

“What, sorry.”

“Come on, Einstein, you can do your thinking in my office. It’s meeting time.”

“Oh, so it is. I’d lost track of time.”

Ashley sat in the meeting, answering the questions that were thrown at her without having to think about her replies, her mind occupied with thoughts of married doctors. What could Charlie possibly have on them that would persuade them to expunge records and risk being struck off? Perhaps she’d find out on Wednesday morning when she visited Doctor Simpson.

By the time the meeting broke up it was lunchtime. Ashley, relieved not to have seen or heard anything from Eve, declined an invitation to join her fellow managers for lunch. She had to try and get hold of Matt and tell him what she’d discovered. It was too important to wait. She brought a sandwich and a bottle of water and went to the park. Satisfied there was no one from Interactive anywhere near her, she pulled her phone from her bag and rang Matt’s mobile. She was on the point of giving up when he answered.

“Can you talk?”

“What’s up?”

They spoke together.

“You first,” Matt said. He spoke formally, not using her name, and she could hear muted voices in the background.

“Sorry, I can hear you’re busy, but I needed to tell you that I’ve found a connection between the doctors.” She could hear the excitement in her own voice.