Unknown (11 page)

'We've done things kind of back to front, haven't we?' His smile was wry, but Ginger thought his words smacked of supreme understatement. 'Let's get to know each other properly. We can do this, Ginger.'

Taken aback, she frowned, not sure this was what she wanted at all. 'I don't know...'

'Please. I'm not going to give up.' His voice was seductive, wearing down her defences. 'Give us a chance. A day at a time.'

Despite all her reservations, she found herself giving a brief, wary nod. She was mad to agree, for all kinds of reasons. He allowed her to open the door and they left the office, making their way down to the ground floor. Not only was it dangerous to get to know more about him and his work, to like him more, to be sidetracked from her own goals, but her feelings for him were decidedly unprofessional. She only had to be in the same room as him and she wanted to rip his clothes off!

'Ginger, I'll be here on Wednesday.' They lingered in the wide, airy foyer of the hospital outpatient reception, his loose grip on her wrist detaining her and making her pulse race. 'We'll arrange something for Friday evening. Is that OK?'

'Um, fine.' Ginger sighed, thinking it was anything but fine yet unable to help herself.

Unfathomable grey eyes looked into hers for endless moments before he released her and stepped back. 'See you.'

Ginger watched as Cameron walked away, her heart thudding, her insides aching with unfulfilled need. What on earth did she think she was doing? It was wrong to even consider seeing him again, given the circumstances and the conflict between them. They were in a competition that only one of them could win. Someone was going to get badly hurt before this was over. Seeing Cameron again, even in a professional capacity, was opening herself to even more heartache. Yet she hadn't been able to say no. She shook her head, mystified how everything had shifted out of kilter and spun so thoroughly out of her control.

Lost in thought, Cameron sat on the wooden steps that led down from the decking to the garden at the rear of the Chamberlains' cottage. Tomorrow night he would see Ginger, talk to her. At last. Provided nothing else went wrong. It had been a horribly frustrating couple of weeks. After cajoling her into agreeing to see him, and securing a promise to exchange information about each other's work, he had banked on enjoying her presence at his self-help group within a few days. Things hadn't worked out that way.

He had worried that Ginger was deliberately avoiding him, and putting him off, because Friday hadn't worked out and neither had the following Tuesday. It had been days since they had spent time together and he was panicking, desperate to see her, even if only at work. All he had managed had been the occasional glimpse of her rushing between appointments or visiting her sick patient on the ward. The chances for a chat on the run had been even fewer. As for touching her, kissing her...well, he could forget it.

He'd been far busier at the hospital than he had expected, but that just proved how much his services, and his new clinic, were needed. However, hours at the hospital were escalating until there was little time left after his private consultations and his self-help groups to work on his own project. Less still for a social life. And all the while he found himself distracted by thoughts of Ginger, watching out for her, yearning to hear her voice, to hold her, make love to her, and he cursed himself for his foolishness. There really wasn't time in his life for anything but work, yet this thing with Ginger, whatever it was, went beyond anything he had ever experienced. He couldn't give her up. Not yet. Not before they had even had a chance.

On the plus side, the last couple of weeks had delivered him an unexpected ally. Ginger's friend and colleague, Pip Beaumont, the matronly nurse, had shared a few cups of coffee with him during snatched breaks between consultations. Pip encouraged him not to give up and had let drop some interesting snippets of information. He now knew that Ginger worked ridiculously long hours and that she'd not had any kind of social life since her last relationship had ended over a year ago. Pip had also told him that Ginger's rare days off were spent indulging in some thrill-seeking sports to blow off steam. That had surprised and intrigued the hell out of him.

Yesterday, he had finally pinned Ginger down to a promise to attend his Friday group meeting. It had taken Pip's help, along with the good news that the patient she was so worried about, Danielle Watson, was out of Intensive Care and making small strides towards recovery, but, barring some unforeseen act of God, he would be seeing Ginger tomorrow evening. Thanks to Pip, he also knew that Ginger was off for the weekend on some exciting jaunt. He hoped to wangle himself an invitation to go with her. Whatever it was. Just so long as it didn't involve anything like potholing or caving.

'Here you go, Cameron.'

Iain's voice drew him from his reverie, and he glanced up, taking the bottle of beer his friend handed him. 'Thanks. And for dinner. It was great.'

'Maxine's giving Harry a feed and putting him down to sleep.' Iain sank down on the steps beside him with a contented sigh. The September evening was warm, the moonlit sky silhouetting the wooded hills across the valley. 'So, who's the woman?'

'What woman?'

'The one who has your thoughts in such a tangle.'

Cameron frowned, trailing a finger through the condensation on the outside of the cold bottle. 'What makes you think there's a woman?'

'I know you've hardly been Casanova since your experience with Lisa, but work has never put you in this kind of edgy, troubled mood.' Iain glanced at him but the smile failed to mask his underlying concern. 'What's her name?'

'Ginger.'

Iain's smile broadened. 'That's unusual.'

'She's an unusual woman.' Cameron took a pull of his drink, feeling warm inside as his thoughts returned to the woman who had dominated his existence since the day they had met. 'Ginger is feisty and fiery. She works hard and plays hard. She fights for what she thinks is right, she's loyal to her friends and colleagues, and she's a staunch champion for her patients. She's passionate and gutsy, and she cares desperately about those affected by eating disorders.'

'Wow! She's certainly made an impression on you in a very short time.'

His friend's amusement was evident. 'Yeah. I'm crazy about her, Iain.'

'That's good.'

'No. It isn't good. I can't allow anything to deflect me from getting my clinic off the ground.'

'You're the most driven person I know. I can't say I haven't worried about you, about the way you've taken this on like some kind of crusade after Molly...' Silence stretched for a few moments as Iain touched on a no-go area, and Cameron tensed, as he always did at the mention of the name. 'It wasn't your fault, buddy. You blame yourself about Molly, but you couldn't have done any more.'

'I failed her,' he said through gritted teeth, his hands tightening around the bottle.

'No, you didn't. Cameron, I admire your dedication, the way you've thrown yourself into this and taken up the battle for people who self-harm, but...'

'But what?' he demanded, unable to stem the thread of anger and unease.

Iain sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder. 'You need some balance in your life. This project is taking you over. A woman is just what you need. How crazy are you about Ginger?'

'Never-get-out-of-bed kind of crazy.' Groaning, he set down his bottle and rubbed his face with his hands. 'This is all too complicated.'

'It's amazing, that's what it is! I never thought I'd hear you talk like this about a woman again, not after Lisa.'

Cameron sobered at his friend's words. 'Neither did I. But you haven't heard the worst of it.'

'What does that mean?' Iain asked, wariness in his voice.

'Ginger is also my sole competition for the Ackerman money.'

Iain swore and his expressive comment hung between them. 'Did you know that when you met her?'

'No. Neither of us did.' Cameron closed his eyes, recalling that one magical but unfulfilled night in London.

Frowning, Iain paused for a moment's thought before he continued. 'But Ginger knows now?'

'Of course.'

'What does she say?'

Cameron let out a frustrated huff of breath. 'She thinks one of us is going to get hurt, that it's best if we don't see each other any more.'

Iain whistled. 'And what do you think?'

'That she's probably right. But I can't stop, can't let her go. I've never felt anything like this before, Iain. What Ginger and I have is explosive, special.'

'Oh, man. You sure don't do anything the easy way, do you?' Iain shook his head.

'Whichever one of us wins the funding—well, it means we prevent the other from fulfilling their dreams.' Ginger was right about that, Cameron admitted to himself. And it was a horrible price to pay. The trouble was, the knowledge still wasn't enough to stop him needing her, wanting her. 'I'm seeing her tomorrow night.'

'Damn it, Cameron. I hope you know what the hell you're doing.'

A wry laugh escaped. Iain wasn't the only one, Cameron thought, draining his beer. Not that he'd known what he'd been doing or been in control of his senses since meeting Ginger. From the first moment he'd felt like he'd been hit by a speeding truck.

Sighing, he acknowledged that his friend was right. He
was
driven. Driven by the determination that no more families would be ripped apart, that no other parent would have to suffer the horrific pain of loss and sense of failure that darkened his days and nights. He couldn't let his patients down. Whatever it took, he would fight to ensure they received the support and treatment they needed. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Ginger would do the same for those in her care. All he could hope was that, despite all the odds, they wouldn't destroy each other in the process.

The situation was no clearer in his mind the next evening. The members of his group arrived at the hall in dribs and drabs, some talking nervously, some keeping to themselves. Even Jamie, the young man he had met in Casualty his first day at the hospital, had turned up, his anxiety painfully apparent. Cameron felt on edge himself, wondering if Ginger would come, wondering what she would think of the work he did.. .wondering if he could hold on to her after the meeting was over and persuade her to spend some time with him.

After talking with Iain last night, Cameron couldn't help but be aware of all the pitfalls of taking his relationship with Ginger further, neither did he fail to recognise the dangerous ground he was walking on. But as the door opened and Ginger stepped inside, her flyaway hair tousled by the evening breeze, he met her pensive gaze and his heart stopped. She wore a long, multi-coloured skirt with a knee-length cardigan over a smart T-shirt, and a coat draped over her arm. She looked curvaceous and lushly feminine. His heart started beating again, far too fast, and he sucked in a much-needed lungful of air as he rose to his feet and crossed to greet her.

Aware of the curious speculation of his group members, he took Ginger's hand, trying to ignore the immediate awareness that raced through him when the connection was made, and drew her forward.

'Everyone, this is Ginger O'Neill. She's a friend and colleague who specialises in eating disorders. I've invited her to sit in. Is that all right with all of you?'

There was a hum of wary agreement and shy greetings. Cameron was conscious of Ginger's skill in putting people at their ease, and that quality was at the fore now as she focused on each person in turn, keeping things light and friendly, unfazed by the very different characters. Distracted as he was, by her presence and the very sight of her, he watched her draw up a chair into the circle and take her seat, expectation on her face as she waited for him to begin.

Ginger wanted them to keep things on a professional footing, but that had never been an option. They were fooling themselves if they thought that was going to work. The sexual chemistry was too strong, too compelling. But inviting her here, pursuing this electric connection, had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done. They were playing with fire. Before much longer they would be eaten alive by the flames and he could only hope they came out of it unscathed—singed, perhaps, but not badly burned.

'My name
is Eleanor, and I'm seventeen.
I
don't want to die, I want to live, and that's why I do this.' The voice faltered, scared dark eyes scanning the room before she swallowed and seemed to regroup and gather her strength to go on. 'I've been cutting myself for three years and I never thought of telling anyone about it until I came here a few weeks ago. Life's really crappy, you know? Things have been bad at home. Seriously bad. I found that if I did things to myself, cut myself, it soothed the terrible inner pain I couldn't share with anyone else. It helps me go on.'

Ginger wanted to cry. She couldn't look at Cameron. Instead, she stared intently at a point on the wall behind Eleanor's head and forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly, blinking once— hard—to push back the threat of tears. She heard some dreadful stories every day of her working life, but the bravery and the pain displayed by these young people Cameron worked with humbled and moved her.

'I find it's, like, if I bleed, I'm letting out the hurt,' an older girl said now. 'I'm Tracy. I'm twenty-one, and I dropped out of university last year. No one understood. I had everything. Big home, rich parents, everything. But they've always pushed and pushed and pushed me to follow their dreams, rather than my own. I tried to do it their way but it wasn't what I wanted, wasn't what was right for me. I started cutting and burning myself when I was thirteen. We've always had big rows but they threw me out when I refused to return to uni. But that was OK. I have my own place now, a job in a bookshop—and thanks to Dr Kincaid I'm going to art therapy classes,' she added with a shy smile in Cameron's direction. 'I like it; it helps. I find I can get my frustrations out on paper. I've not injured myself for a month...although sometimes I still feel I want to.'