A Surgeon for the Single Mom

by Charlotte Hawkes

  ‘That’s a fascinating but I fear highly diluted story of what brought you to the air ambulance.’ He hadn’t intended his voice to sound so raw, so raspy, but she had him on edge tonight. Even more than usual.

  Effie flushed, sucking in her bottom lip in a way that shot right through his body.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘I think you do. You haven’t really told me a single thing about you.’ He had no idea why it even mattered, and yet the words kept coming. ‘My few questions about your childhood were met with a wave and a comment that it was just like everyone else’s—fairly standard. When I enquired after your family you smiled prettily and pointed out that in a job like ours we’re so busy we never get to see people as much as we would like.’

  ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with that.’ She leaned back in her chair defensively.

  ‘They weren’t particularly intrusive questions, Effie. Just the usual kind of questions when two people are getting to know each other on a date.’

  ‘Well...’ She shrugged awkwardly, as though looking for an excuse, babbled on as soon as she thought she’d found one. ‘Well, this isn’t a date, is it? You said it yourself—it’s just shoring up the falsehood of our being in a relationship to distract your extended family from pushing the idea of an arranged marriage.’

  Yes, he had said that, hadn’t he? Tak clenched his fist, unseen. The problem was, even at the time he had known that wasn’t true. Even in that moment when he’d asked her on a date a part of him had known that it was because he’d genuinely wanted to take her out.

  Fooling his extended family was merely an added bonus, a justification. Though whether for Effie’s benefit or for his own, he couldn’t be sure.

  And so all through the meal he’d felt his frustration growing as she fed him her all too practised response, telling him the carefully crafted version of her life that she wanted him to hear.

  Nothing more, nothing less. Certainly not the truth. Nothing that would help him to understand the real Effie.

  And he realised with a jolt that he wanted to know the real Effie. More than that, he needed to know the real Effie. Even if he couldn’t understand why any more than he could understand why, as he’d listened to her prepared formulaic story, he’d let her soft, lilting voice distract him into imagining that mouth doing so many other things. Imagining her in his bed. As though he was some kind of hormone-ravaged teenager.

  It was galling. He didn’t want to want her, and yet since she’d swept into his life he’d felt as though everything he’d carefully built up around himself had been knocked down. And the solid foundations he’d thought he’d put down were now shown up for little more than wet sand.

  From the instant Hetti had thrown Effie into his path as his plus one he’d been entranced. He could dress it up any way he wanted, label it with any number of excuses, but the unavoidable truth was that Effie made him hard, and greedy, and savage. And he wanted her with an intensity that was almost suffocating.

  All the things his father had claimed to feel about every one of his mistresses when he had rubbed them in the face of Tak’s mother. The old man had never shown an ounce of respect for his wife or for his children. And he hadn’t had a shred of self-control over his own vices. His father had been selfish right to his very core.

  Fury and self-disgust flooded Tak’s body. He’d spent his entire life trying not to be like his father—ensuring he wouldn’t be like him by avoiding any kind of serious relationship. Which wasn’t to say he hadn’t enjoyed casual relationships...girlfriends lasting a few months...good sex.

  But nothing had come even remotely close to this...hunger gnawing inside him ever since Effie Robinson had walked into his life. He wanted her. In the most primal way that a man could want a woman. He wanted her. Only her. And he couldn’t pretend otherwise any longer.

  ‘Why did you agree to accompany me to the hospital ball that night, Effie?’ His voice was harsh, commanding, yet he still couldn’t read the expression which flitted across her face.

  ‘You know why. This is a new place for me...there are men who view my single status as a challenge, and I have a daughter who is the sole focus of my life. Fake dating you was the quickest way to make anyone else back off, and when we “break up” I get to pretend that I’m not dating because I’m not over you.’

  ‘You have it all worked out, don’t you?’ He ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass, if only to stop himself from reaching over the table and touching her.

  ‘As much as you do,’ Effie hedged, with that inscrutable darkness shadowing her eyes again.

  ‘Except that you’ve made me curious about you. I want to know why you’re so untrusting of people. Of men.’

  ‘It isn’t just about men,’ she answered—too quickly, not realising she was giving herself away until it was too late.

  There was no reason for it to feel like such a victory. And yet he leapt on it all the same. ‘Everyone, then. Why?’

  ‘That isn’t what I meant.’ She flushed crossly.

  ‘It isn’t what you meant to say, no. But it is what you meant. Deep down.’

  ‘I thought tonight was about giving a convincing show?’ she bit out. ‘Not about delving into areas of each other’s lives which are best left unexplored.’

  It had been. Only he’d changed the rules. Unfairly, perhaps, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. It seemed his usual sense of boundaries was slipping, sliding away from him. Certainly where Effie was concerned.

  Why would he have offered to take Nell to that party if not because he wanted to make Effie happy? To show him she needed him?

  Why?

  The realisation hit him hard and low, and something gathered inside him, gaining momentum, and power, and a voice. So loud that it howled inside him with all the truths that it brought.

  It was one thing to want Effie physically. Sexually. But it was quite another to sit here, in this restaurant, in the middle of this performance, and realise that he wanted more. That he wanted her on an emotional level, too.

  He wanted to know about her life and her family, about what had happened to mould her and shape her, about every single event which had led up to her and her daughter living in that awful flat in that awful building.

  He wanted to know her, truly know her, and to understand her. And he wanted to tell her all the things he’d never been able to tell anyone in his life before. Not even Hetti.

  The urge was almost overwhelming. He even opened his mouth to speak. But nothing came out. An internal struggle was going on inside him and it was as though he was floating outside his own body, able only to watch. Never to intervene.

  Somehow he managed to rein himself back in. Curb himself. Stifle this insane compulsion which had come out of nowhere.

  But it cost him. He couldn’t talk to Effie. Not about any of it. He would never be able to do that. Because if he did then it would mean he was putting his own selfish desires ahead of what he knew to be best for others. Just like his father had done.

  He knew the pattern. He’d seen it so many times before, and each time he’d watched it rip out another little piece of his mother’s soul.

  Once this initial fervour wore off—and whether that was in a month, six months, a year, much as it felt impossible now, he knew it would happen, it was inexorable, just as his father had always said—he would end up letting Effie down. Hurting her. Betraying her.

  Yes, he knew the pattern. He’d just never imagined he’d be the one copying it. It was madness and it had to stop.

  He had to stop it. Now.

  * * *

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Effie peered at Tak and tried to control her racing heart. The entire evening had been unsettling, from the fancy restaurant to Tak’s too-close-to-home questions. In all her life she had never found it so hard to recite
her practised lies. Never before had she felt such a desperate yearning to throw away her mask and finally let somebody see the real Effie.

  But what if Tak hated that person? What if he hated the mess, the ugliness that was her past? And it was so very, very ugly. There was no dressing it up and passing it off as something palatable.

  An ache pooled deep in her belly as she watched Tak through lowered lashes. He looked more incredible than ever tonight, in that sleek, smart-casual suit. A lesson in sheer male perfection—all hard lines and intriguing shadows. Solid and utterly, devastatingly imposing.

  And he was all hers.

  At least he was pretending to be.

  And that was the irony of it, wasn’t it? They were out in public so that they could fool other people, but the person most at risk of falling for the charade was herself.

  ‘I’m quite well, thank you.’

  His rich voice glided over her skin like silk.

  ‘Did you imagine otherwise?’

  ‘You seem...distracted,’ she offered, before correcting herself. ‘On edge.’

  ‘On the contrary, I’m feeling very much at ease in your company.’

  It wasn’t so much the way he said it—in that throwaway style of his, as though it was an easy compliment but didn’t mean very much at all. It was more the way his eyes darkened sinfully, possessively, almost as though against his will.

  Her pulse beat out a thrilled tattoo. She could feel it thrumming in her neck. And she could feel it thrumming somewhere altogether more intimate.

  Everywhere Tak went people turned their heads to watch him, to admire him. He inspired admiration and envy alike, and his renowned career made him a man to hold in the highest esteem.

  But when he looked at her like that he made Effie feel as though she was the only thing in the world that he saw. The only woman he would ever want. And when he laughed it was as if he’d shot her through with a thousand bright volts. It was heady, and intoxicating, and utterly, completely dangerous.

  Because it made her forget that this was all simply a game.

  ‘So, what’s the plan? We’ve been here an hour already. Do you think the news will have got back to your family, or do we need to do something more memorable?’

  ‘More memorable?’ he arched an eyebrow. ‘What, exactly?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Effie chuckled, for no obvious reason but that he made her feel happy. ‘Maybe... Well, perhaps... Hmm...

  ‘Causing a scene about the food before sending it back?’ he speculated, making Effie gasp.

  ‘No. That would be horrible! The staff—goodness the chef!’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me? I imagine you’re the kind of person who smiles and says the meal is lovely even if it truly is ghastly.’

  She knew she looked sheepish. She certainly felt sheepish. ‘I suppose that is what I do,’ she conceded. ‘Not that I dine out often, that is.’

  ‘Perhaps we should do something about that.’ He laughed, and then, before she could ask him what he’d meant by that, he changed the subject. ‘So, if not memorable that way, then how?’

  It made no sense that her heart should be beating so hard. And this time when she smiled it didn’t feel quite so easy. ‘I don’t know. Forget I said anything.’

  ‘Do you suppose I should stand up and come around the table? Haul you into my arms before kissing you? Not a light peck, you understand, but a thorough, unmistakable kiss, designed to conquer rather than simply confide.’

  ‘No!’ she denied, even though every fibre of her was screaming that she was lying. ‘Of course that isn’t what I was saying.’

  And then she swallowed. Hard. It was a fatal mistake.

  Tak’s eyes snapped to her throat, then locked onto her gaze, and it was as though she was laid bare and he could read every inch of her soul. Could appreciate every last one of her darkest desires.

  All of which seemed to centre around him.

  ‘You do want me to do that,’ he declared, and she might have believed that he had not truly thought so before. That a part of him even welcomed the revelation.

  But then his expression turned hard, cold. ‘I was given to understand that you don’t want a relationship with anyone. It was one of the reasons I agreed to take you to the ball as my plus one.’

  She felt as if he had stamped his foot into her chest and crushed it down. Later, when she actually thought about it, she still wouldn’t understand how she didn’t crumple with shame right there in front of him.

  ‘You invited me as your date to the ball because it was mutually convenient. We were each other’s buffers and we played our roles to perfection.’

  ‘Yet now here you are...wanting more.’

  She could feel the heat spreading across her neck, her cheeks, but she lifted her head and refused to be intimidated. ‘I have never suggested I want more. You are the one who insisted Nell and I couldn’t stay in our flat. You are the one who was so quick to open your door to us. And you are the one who has been interrogating me about my past and my family all evening. Almost as though you’re interested. Perhaps I might suggest that this unexpected talk of kissing is more a reflection of your state of mind than mine.’

  It had been a ruse. An attempt to bat the proverbial ball back into his court. Effie certainly hadn’t expected her words to elicit any reaction—and certainly not one that suggested her words might not be as fantastical as she had thought them to be.

  She watched, fascinated, as he scowled, and his eyes glittered almost black as he sat unnaturally still—rigid, even—in his seat. Her words had hit a target she hadn’t even known existed.

  ‘I’m right...’ she breathed, almost in awe. ‘You want me.’

  His mouth flattened, and his glower was enough to intimidate even the boldest of women, but Effie stood her ground even as the blood roared in her ears.

  And then, unexpectedly, the frown cleared and he eyed her in a way which was far more threatening—for it was pure desire and unrestrained hunger.

  ‘You’re right. I do want you,’ he murmured at length. ‘Just as you want me.’

  She opened her mouth to deny it again, then snapped it shut. What was the point in lying? She didn’t even know who she’d be lying to most. Tak or herself.

  ‘Therefore why not embrace it? Use it to our advantage?’

  ‘Use it?’ she echoed, not following.

  ‘Use this sexual attraction, this chemistry...’

  His mouth curled into something so spectacularly sinful that she could feel the heat blooming through her very core.

  ‘And fool everyone into thinking there is something really serious between us.’

  ‘You mean, pretend...more?’ she asked.

  ‘I mean, pretend less,’ he growled.

  It took her a moment before the full implication of what Tak meant hit home.

  Effie gasped. ‘You mean, give in to this...this physical thing between us?’ Her voice sounded too raw, too naked. ‘Indulge? Have...have sex, or whatever, and let the rest of the world draw their own conclusions?’

  ‘I’m curious,’ he said almost idly. ‘What’s the whatever?’

  She shook her head, confused. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You said, “have...sex, or whatever”. I want to know what the whatever is? It sounds deliciously naughty.’

  His lips curved licentiously and he made no attempt to hide his amusement. Effie’s entire body trembled—and not, she feared, with disgust.

  ‘You’re being deliberately provocative,’ she accused shakily.

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘It’s...aggravating.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Tak demurred. ‘Any time you think I have it wrong, be sure to let me know and I shall stop at once.’

  And there it was. The way to put this entire evening back twenty-four hours, to ma
ke it clear that she wasn’t interested in anything other than a pretend show. All she had to do was tell him he was wrong.

  Instead, she deflected. ‘This all started because I asked you if you needed a scene to ensure word of our date got back to your family.’

  ‘I remember,’ he agreed, a little too knowingly. ‘And I asked if you meant me to kiss you.’

  ‘I told you I didn’t.’

  ‘Which I believe we’ve already established was a lie. We appear to be going around in circles, priya.’ Abruptly he stood up, dark and intent. ‘Allow me to break the cycle.’

  She knew what he was doing even before he moved around the table. She ought to say something. She had to stop him. Instead she raised her hands slightly to meet his as he drew her out of her seat.

  And then she was pressed against his body. Soft heat against inflexible steel. White-hot explosions in her body competed with the thrilling fireworks in her head. She was like a coiled spring, held under tension, and it was all the more unbearable as Tak lowered his mouth to hers and held it there. Refusing to close that gap completely. The heat of his breath on her lips was driving her delirious with longing.

  ‘Do you think they’ve had a good enough show?’ he pondered.

  ‘Hmm...?’

  ‘The other diners. Will they have their phones out yet?’

  She might have been insulted, but she heard the crack in his voice and knew he was only holding on by the skin of his teeth.

  ‘Good point.’ She stopped, as though to consider, although it nearly killed her. ‘A little longer, I think.’

  Her reward was a rumble of disapproval from Tak before he lowered his head to claim her lips.

  The kiss was every bit as electrifying as their first one outside her apartment door. Had it only been ten days ago? It felt like a lifetime. Or a life sentence. Perhaps because she’d been waiting her entire life for a kiss like this. For a man like this.