‘Forget it. We all have our moments.’
‘I just don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of loser. I was freaked out, losing my finger, you know? My girlfriend walking out didn’t help either.’
‘She walked out because you lost your finger?’ Fiona sounded shocked. Kind of the way she’d sounded on learning that Nick’s mother had never read him stories. Was she looking at Jeff the way she’d looked at him? With that soft, sympathetic expression? Nick straightened from where he’d been leaning on the wall, watching Shane hose down the ambulance. He hoped she wasn’t.
‘Nah, it hadn’t been going anywhere anyway. Me being down about my hand was just the last straw, I guess.’
‘You’ll get through it.’ Fiona sounded encouraging now.
‘I’ve certainly got a good reason to try.’
Nick started walking towards the storeroom. Did Jeff mean the job he’d been given to help with the fundraising campaign or was he talking about Fiona’s company?
Just why was he making a point about his single status?
A bubble of a nasty emotion formed in his gut. So familiar. The green-eyed monster—jealousy. Nick knew he’d better intensify that force field before he stepped into that storeroom or he might do something incredibly stupid, like punch Jeff on the nose.
It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened.
The memory threatened to switch the force field off completely. Instead of interrupting the couple still in the storeroom, Nick turned on his heel and strode through the office area and into the staff toilet. He turned on the cold tap, filled his cupped hands and splashed his face.
He repeated the action. The third time he simply held his hands to his face, letting the water dribble through his fingers, his breath coming out in a forceful whoosh as he tried to blow the memories away.
The night of his brother’s stag party.
The night before Al had married Fiona.
Nick had been twenty. Still a medical student. Still no more than the gawky teenager who could have been a pinup model for the guy who got sand kicked in his face at the beach. A slightly taller version of the kid who had got asthma from petrol fumes. The family embarrassment.
Stickman, Al had called him.
He’d grown up faster than his family had realised, though. On the inside, anyway.
He understood things like responsibility. Commitment. Morality.
A few beers at the stag party provided more than enough Dutch courage when it became obvious that the stripper engaged for entertainment was going to get lucky and spend the rest of the night with the famous sports star.
The confrontation took place in the restroom of that hotel. Beside basins that looked remarkably like the one Nick was currently gripping as he stared into the mirror.
It wasn’t his face he was seeing. All it required was a bit of a squint and he could see Alistair staring back. With that incredulous expression resulting from Nick’s appalled accusation.
‘You’ve got no intention of being faithful to Fi, have you?’ he’d demanded.
‘I’ve got every intention of living my life the way I want to, thanks very much.’
‘Why are you marrying Fi, Al?’
‘Why not? She’s cute. She adores me. I adore her.’ He’d laughed. ‘I’m in a high-risk game. I’m bound to need my private nurse again.’
‘You “adore” her? And you’d still sleep with someone you don’t even know the night before your wedding? You make me sick.’
‘Ooh! Who made you the moral police, Stickman?’
‘You’re a bastard, Al. You can’t even see how wrong it is. Have you got any idea how much it would hurt Fi if she knew? Do you actually care?’
‘Why should you care? Oh-h, you fancy her, don’t you?’ And Alistair had laughed again. The memory of that nasty sound was still enough to make the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck prickle. ‘What a joke! Listen, mate, your only claim to fame will ever be the fact that you’re related to me. You think someone like Fi would ever look at someone like you? Get real, kiddo.’
The shove had been dismissive, just a physical put-down to emphasise the hurtful words, but it had been the last straw. Nick had shoved back in an attempt to stand his ground. Maybe it had been the notion that if he wasn’t strong enough to make his point then Fi stood no chance.
The marriage was doomed and Fiona deserved so much better.
Alistair had won the fight, of course. Just like he’d always won everything. Nick had ended up with a black eye and a mild concussion, feeling sick as he stood beside his brother in the church the following day, knowing that his physical symptoms were only partly due to the blows he’d taken.
Nick dried his face and headed for the door. He shouldn’t feel any of that old guilt. The marriage had been wonderful, hadn’t it? Maybe Fiona had never found out.
He couldn’t have told her at the time, could he? She wouldn’t have believed him and the only thing he would have achieved would have been to spoil a perfect day for her. A wedding fit for royalty with wall-to-wall cameras waiting to record the joy on her face.
The smug satisfaction on Alistair’s face.
The black eye that make-up had only partially covered on the face of the best man.
‘Best man?’ Al had managed a final jibe after a few glasses of champagne at the reception. One of the last times Nick had spoken to his brother, in fact. ‘What a joke. We both know who the best man is, don’t we Nicholas?’ The grin had been one of pure triumph. ‘The best man won, didn’t he?’
‘Nick, hi!’
Fiona hoped her welcoming tone and smile didn’t convey too much relief but she was delighted by his appearance in her office. Jeff had been standing just a little too close to her as she had been showing him the maps on the wall and the area the ambulance service covered. It was making her feel uneasy.
The rumble of Shane driving the ambulance into the garage beside them meant that the office was going to be even more crowded any minute.
‘You got enough for now, Jeff?’
‘Yeah. Thanks. I like your idea of using real people and stories to get the point across about how vital the service is. You get some exciting rescues.’
‘We don’t want to focus only on the dramatic stuff, mind you. There are far more people who rely on us for the majority of our work. Medical crises like heart attacks and asthma and diabetes and stokes and so on.’
‘So you’ll find people I can talk to?’
‘As soon as I get a spare minute or three.’ Fiona walked to the office door and Jeff seemed happy to take the hint and leave.
Or maybe not. He was taking a good look at the cluttered desk he was passing. And then he paused, leaning in to admire the picture of Sam that took pride of place beside the telephone.
‘Cute kid.’
‘That’s Sam,’ Fiona said proudly. ‘My son.’
‘And my nephew,’ Nick added. He had his arms folded and the look he was giving Jeff was distinctly cool. If it hadn’t been a crazy thought, Fiona would have considered it challenging.
‘Oh?’ Jeff’s quick glance went from Nick to Fiona and back again. She could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out what their relationship was. Leaving him puzzled might not be a bad thing, she decided, given that uncomfortable feeling of proximity she’d just experienced. Her private life was not part of the available information package.
‘Why don’t I give you a call next week?’ she said briskly. ‘When I’ve had the chance to chase up some contacts.’
‘Sure.’ Jeff was really leaving this time. He flicked another glance at Nick and then smiled at Fiona. ‘Call me any time.’
Shane was whistling cheerfully in the garage as he completed packing up for the day. He waved at Jeff and then poked his head into the office.
‘See you guys down the road later, then. I’m going to duck home and get changed.’
‘Down the road?’ Fiona queried.
‘Nic
k’s shouting everybody, didn’t he tell you yet? It’s his birthday.’
Fiona rounded on Nick as Shane headed home. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, I feel awful! I haven’t got you a present or a card or…anything. And it must be…your thirtieth, isn’t it? That’s special!’
‘It’s no big deal.’ Nick’s tone was reassuring. ‘Look, I’ve been known to forget my own birthday at times with the weird places I’ve been living in. And I’ve always hated parties and fuss. It was just a last-minute idea to have a few drinks. Think of it more as me wanting to get to know my temporary colleagues a bit better.’
‘No way. I’ll get you a present tomorrow. You’ll have to come home for dinner so we can have a family celebration. Sam loves parties! And, hey!’ Fiona stepped close and threw her arms around Nick. ‘Happy birthday!’
She kissed him.
The way you would offer a kiss to any family member or friend on their special day. She aimed for his cheek, of course, or maybe the corner of his mouth, but Nick moved to return the hug and his face moved and the kiss moved all at the same time.
And Fiona found her lips touching Nick’s.
Just briefly. Softly.
It shouldn’t have meant anything.
It certainly shouldn’t have had the effect of a bomb going off. Nerve endings exploding into an electrifying jolt. Fiona stepped back quickly. So quickly she almost overbalanced, given that Nick let her go instantly.
Cover it up, her instincts screamed. Bury it. At least hide it!
So she laughed. ‘Whoops! Better not do that when I’ve had a glass of wine or two, had I?’
No wonder Nick was giving her a strange look. Bemused, even.
Distraction was a good ploy. ‘I’ll follow Shane’s example and go home and get changed.’ Did it sound like she was babbling? ‘What time is everybody getting there?’
‘About seven.’
‘Great. The night-shift volunteers will be taking over in half an hour or so, which will just give me time to get sorted.’ The papers on her desk didn’t really need shuffling but Fiona had to do something.
‘I’ll go and get the dogs fed and watered.’ Nick’s look was cautious as he moved to the door. ‘See you later, then.’
‘Absolutely.’ Fiona gave Nick the brightest smile she could summon.
A smile that faded the instant he walked out.
She sat down at her desk. Buried her face in her hands and, finally, allowed herself to face the internal havoc her body was still buzzing with.
The realisation that she was attracted to Nick was as unexpected as it was undesirable. This was no simple appreciation of an extremely good-looking man. Neither was it a result of the warmth you could get from a good friendship.
This was…huge.
The first time Fiona had felt like this in…
Oh, Lord—it felt like the first time she had ever felt like this.
She would just have to deal with it. Hide it. Make damned sure Nick didn’t guess.
There was no harm in making a little extra effort to look good for going out, though, was there?
Not that anyone got really dressed up to go to the Hound but her black jeans fitted well and looked good.
Sexy…
The top with diamanté on its deep scooped neckline might be a tad over the top but this was a special occasion.
‘Is it really Uncle Nick’s birthday, Mummy?’
‘It sure is.’
‘Why can’t I come to the party?’
‘It’s not really a party tonight. And it’s just for grownups.’
‘Will there be balloons?’
‘No.’
‘A cake? With candles?’
‘No. We can have those tomorrow night. We’ll need to buy some candles.’
‘How many?’
‘Thirty. Do you know how many thirty is, sweetheart?’
‘No. Is it lots?’
‘Heaps.’ But not as many as Fiona would need. Even if she’d met Nick with no history between them, he wouldn’t be interested. He was Shane’s age, for goodness’ sake, and Shane’s girlfriend was twenty-five.
Fiona was thirty-six. An older woman. A much older woman. And why was she even thinking about the difference in their ages, anyway?
‘Is Ga going?’
‘No. She’s staying home with you.’ Fiona decided to leave her hair loose. It wasn’t that it made her look younger or anything. It was just more festive. She brushed it until it shone and then slipped on a thin silver headband to hold it back from her face. ‘She’s going to bake the cake for tomorrow and you can help.’
‘What sort of cake?’
‘Chocolate.’
‘Do I get to lick the spoon?’
‘Of course.’ Fiona scooped Sam up for a cuddle. ‘That’s the best bit, isn’t it?’
Nick had to lick the string of melted cheese off his fingers but nobody seemed to notice his lack of table manners.
The group of Lakeview Hospital’s staff were crammed into a corner booth of a pub that was doing its best to look like a bit of Olde England, with its crackling open fire, heavy exposed beams and solid, dark furniture. The homely smell of hot food masked a faint hint of stale beer and the laughter, animated conversation and camaraderie of the group made it a good place to be.
Fiona was having trouble with the cheese as well. She caught the long string dangling from her slice of pizza and put her tongue out to catch it.
A shaft of desire powerful enough to take his breath away came from nowhere to twist Nick’s gut.
He couldn’t look away. Could barely hear the sound of Megan’s voice from right beside him.
‘So how old are you today, Nick?’
‘Thirty. Really ancient.’
Fiona had caught him staring at her mouth. Now she was staring back at him.
‘What exotic Third World location did you have your last birthday party in?’
‘I don’t do parties.’ He never had. Not since that awful night when the glow surrounding the hero of his childhood had been irreparably tarnished. People drank too much at parties. Did things they later regretted. Or should regret.
‘This is a party,’ Fiona said. She was still holding eye contact and her smile was soft. ‘Happy birthday, Nick.’
‘Yes! Happy birthday,’ everyone chorused.
‘Thanks.’ Nick had to tear his gaze away from Fiona before he started looking like an idiot. He managed but he knew the success wouldn’t last for long.
God knew, he was trying but it was a losing battle tonight. It had been a struggle ever since Fiona had walked into the Hound looking like she’d poured those long legs into the dark jeans, with the sparkle of little jewels on her neckline making the creamy flesh above them an irresistible visual target and her hair flowing down her back like black silk.
Nick wanted to grab a fistful of that hair. To wind it around his hand until Fiona’s head was caught and tilted to just the right angle. To feel her lips against his. Not the brush of a butterfly’s wing kind of kiss that she’d given him in her office today.
A real kiss.
‘I wonder where you’ll be celebrating your next birthday,’ Lizzie said.
‘No idea,’ Nick said lightly. ‘I haven’t resigned from MSF yet so I could get deployed anywhere, any time, as soon as I’ve finished this locum.’
‘Don’t you get sick of travelling?’ Megan asked. ‘Wouldn’t you like to settle down somewhere?’
‘Yeah.’ Shane raised his glass of beer in a toast. ‘Thirty’s getting on, mate. Might be time to start thinking about putting down some roots.’
Nick just smiled. Shane didn’t need to know it was much safer not to put down roots. That way, they couldn’t get ripped up. He’d be gone from this place in a few short weeks and that was probably just as well, the way he was feeling tonight. Just how long could a force field last?
He caught Fiona’s glance again. The lighting in this pub was extremely dim. He could actually imagine something in her
gaze reflecting the way he was feeling.
Man, it was too hot in here with that blazing fire. Nick could feel the thud of his pulse as his heart rate increased.
‘This isn’t a bad place to live,’ Lizzie was saying. ‘You might want to think about it, Nick.’
‘Yes.’ Megan sounded encouraging. ‘We’d love you to stay.’
‘Sam must be loving having a real uncle around,’ Shane put in. ‘Is that right, Fi?’
‘He sure is.’
‘Must be almost like having his dad here.’ Shane grinned. ‘Or didn’t you two look much alike, Nick?’
‘I was better-looking.’ It was easy not to catch Fiona’s eye this time. He didn’t want to see confirmation that his presence was welcome because he was a replacement for his brother. ‘Your medical director will be back in town in no time,’ he added. ‘You don’t need two of them.’
‘We could do with a surgeon, though,’ Lizzie said. ‘Didn’t you say you’d like to do more than your basic training in general surgery?’
‘One day, yes. But it won’t be here.’
‘Why not?’ Steve came back with a tray of new drinks for everybody. ‘We’ve got great facilities. We just can’t use them for anything more than minor stuff.’
‘Jenny would be keen,’ Fiona said.
‘Who’s Jenny?’
‘One of our GPs. She trained in anaesthetics, thinking she’d be able to use the skills here at least part time.’
‘So why don’t you advertise for a surgeon?’
‘Logistics,’ Fiona said. ‘The case load isn’t enough. It’s more effective to fly patients to larger hospitals and you’d have to do that for anything major anyway. Mind you, it would be great to have someone with the skills to stabilise critical cases before we evacuated them.’
‘Sounds like a job for someone ready to retire.’
‘Or someone who wanted something really different. A job with lots of variety.’
‘Someone like you,’ Megan offered. ‘You must do a bit of everything in war zones and places like that.’
‘True.’
For a while they quizzed Nick on his work with MSF and then the conversation shifted and they talked about Steve’s interest in rock climbing and diving and Shane’s determination to learn to ski this year. Megan was enthusiastic about dance classes she’d started but Nick was only half listening.
Her Four-Year Baby Secret Page 9
