What would it be like to stay? he wondered. To get to see Sam grow up? To be in a position to be a father figure instead of a distant uncle?
Heart-breaking, that’s what it would be.
He made the next trip to the bar, having persuaded Fiona to have another glass of wine with the offer to drive her home.
What had he been thinking?
He’d be alone, in a small car, with the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. One that was looking at him strangely tonight. For the second time, when he handed her the glass and their fingers touched, Nick thought he saw an echo of his own desire in her eyes.
It was possible. He had to remind her of Al every time she looked at him. Especially in an atmosphere like this. Al had always been surrounded by crowds. People dressed up and drinking and partying the night away. He’d always been the centre of attention.
The way he had been tonight.
Yes. It was possible that he reminded Fiona of Al enough for Nick to get a lot closer to her if he tried.
As close as he wanted to get. Physically, anyway.
It wouldn’t be him she wanted, of course. He’d be a replacement.
But if that got him to the place he’d always wanted to be, did it really matter?
The temptation was strong. If felt like another click of those tumblers getting very close to falling into place.
He could shake them and make sure it didn’t happen.
Or not.
For a long time the ride home was quiet.
Fiona felt very close to the ground in Nick’s little sports car. It gave an illusion of speed that was probably not justified. Or was that coming from the amount of wine she’d had tonight? Far more than she might normally but it had been hard work to try and keep things normal. To make sure she didn’t scare Nick back to the other side of the world.
Lizzie’s comment tonight had fed the seed of an idea Fiona hadn’t been allowing to take root, but what if Nick did decide he’d like to stay?
How wonderful would that be?
She stole another glance at the profile of the man beside her. His face was relaxed, his hands resting lightly on the steering-wheel. He was in control. So close that Fiona could feel the warmth of his body. Could smell a hint of something too subtle and too masculine to be a commercial aftershave. Something unique.
The smell of Nick.
‘Have I got some pizza stuck to my ear or something?’
Fiona laughed. ‘No. Why?’
‘You keep looking at me.’
‘Do I?’ Oh, help! She wasn’t very good at hiding things after all. ‘I…I guess it’s been a long time since I got driven home after a night out. It feels…kind of weird.’
Nick thought about that for a minute.
‘Weird strange or weird nice?’ he asked as he pulled to a halt near the Murchisons’ gate, which was screened from the lights of the house by a thick hedge. When he flicked the car’s headlights off, the world outside was swallowed by darkness. Then he just sat, smiling. Waiting patiently for a response from his passenger.
‘Weird nice,’ Fiona said finally. Her eyes were readjusting to the change in light as she unclipped her safety belt. Maybe the wine was responsible for more than the sense of speed. It seemed to be making it far easier to hold Nick’s gaze.
‘Nice’ didn’t begin to explain how she felt but, given that the feeling was due to her attraction to Nick, she could hardly try and define it better, could she?
A part of her she’d forgotten existed seemed to have come alive again tonight. Or had that happened in her office a little earlier?
For the last five years she had existed only within the roles of being a daughter and a mother and, more recently, as a paramedic. Tonight she’d had an hour or two of being simply herself.
A woman. One that was in the company of a very desirable man.
Alive was the word for it all right. Her senses felt reborn. Sharpened.
‘I don’t mind,’ Nick said. ‘I think I like it.’
Fiona said nothing. Her heightened sense of hearing was playing with the sound of his voice. Letting it trickle over her like a cool breeze on the hottest of summer days.
‘Like what?’ she asked belatedly, as she noticed the silence.
‘You looking at me.’
‘Oh…’ His smile was perfect. Slow and easy. Just…Nick. She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘I think I like it, too.’
‘Like what?’
‘Looking at you.’
It was a silly conversation but Nick laughed and the soft sound was joyous. Fiona felt absurdly pleased for giving him a reason to laugh. Her smile widened.
‘Happy birthday, Nick.’
Was it an excuse for another kiss? Or was it an invitation?
A second later, it didn’t matter. Nick leaned towards her and the touch of his lips felt suddenly familiar.
Like coming home.
For a moment Fiona revelled in the feeling of safety. Of being held so gently against the warm strength of a large male body. She could feel the slide of Nick’s hands into her hair and even hear the squeak of his leather jacket as he pulled her closer.
And then she was aware of nothing but his mouth. The sensation of his lips and, dear God, his tongue. Fiona was sucked into that kiss so deeply she could have drowned and she wouldn’t have cared.
It was the most amazing kiss.
Stunning.
When it ended Fiona had to consciously close her mouth and stop gaping.
‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered. ‘Nick?’
His voice was oddly rough. ‘That’s me.’
‘What was that?’
‘Just a kiss, hon.’
‘But…’ It was a kiss that was not supposed to happen. Now Nick would know how she felt. The dawning realisation was a wake-up call. Fiona drew back, horrified with herself. She had been kissing Nick.
Sam’s uncle.
Al’s brother.
‘Yeah…’ Nick cleared his throat. He sat up straighter. ‘It was a bit different, wasn’t it? Magic, even.’
‘Um…’ What was that supposed to mean, a bit different? Was that good or really bad? ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Don’t say anything.’ Nick touched her lips with his finger and smiled. A crooked kind of half-smile. ‘See you tomorrow, Fi. Sleep well.’
She got out of the car. Walked towards her gate. Stopped and looked back, but it was too dark to see Nick’s face so she raised her hand in farewell and carried on.
Nick watched until she was out of sight. Then he started the car and pulled away a little less smoothly than usual.
He should have expected that.
Had she only realised who she had been kissing when it had ended?
‘Bad luck, Fi,’ he heard himself murmur. ‘It was only me.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT HAD been ‘just a kiss’.
So why was it that every time it crept back into Fiona’s mind, she felt like something was melting deep inside her body? Making her limbs feel liquid and her brain unable to think of anything other than Nick.
It didn’t help that she had every reason to be thinking of Nick the next day when she set out on her shopping expedition. Or that Sam was skipping along beside her, his excitement overflowing.
‘It’s Uncle Nick’s birthday! We’re going to buy balloons!’
Sam helped choose by pointing out the brightest colours he could see for balloons, finding equally festive party hats and several packets of tiny candles. He helped even more by happily disappearing into the toy corner of the bookshop Fiona visited in the hope of finding a perfect gift.
Locating precisely what she was looking for was a thrill. Fiona touch was almost reverent as she turned the glossy pages of the glorious photographic record and beautifully worded descriptions of the settings used for the movie Nick loved. Imagining his pleasure in this gift gave her an anticipation that easily rivalled Sam’s level of excitement and there was the added bonus of a personal sig
nificance with the inclusion of places she had actually taken Nick to visit in the Glenorchy area.
Had it really been only two weeks ago?
With an effort Fiona closed the book and focused on things that still needed to be done. She moved to another section of the shop to choose wrapping paper and ribbon but her choices were made on autopilot because she was still astonished. She felt much closer to Nick than such a short space of time should have allowed for. Far closer than she had felt when she had first known him. By some magic, in the years apart, things had changed enough to make their connection much stronger.
Paying for her purchases, Fiona wondered what Nick was doing. Finishing a Saturday morning ward round, perhaps? There were always a few geriatric patients that needed ongoing care and there could well be a maternity case or something in the emergency department that needed attention. Being an administrator on top of the hands-on medical duties meant that paperwork inevitably accumulated as well.
But maybe Nick had completed all that needed to be done professionally. He might be home again by now. Out walking the dogs, maybe? Standing on the old jetty and letting the peaceful pull of the mountains and lake nudge him into daydreaming?
Was he thinking about her at all?
About that kiss?
What was it going to be like when she saw him again that evening? It would be impossible not to be watching for some kind of signal. An acknowledgement that something had changed between them. An indication that Nick hadn’t been really honest in dismissing what had happened as ‘just a kiss’.
Hoping that he hadn’t been really honest.
She saw nothing. It was Sam who claimed Nick’s attention the instant he stepped through the Murchisons’ door later that day.
‘We’ve got balloons, Uncle Nick. And candles…and cake!’
‘Wow! Is it someone’s birthday?’
Sam’s grin stretched from ear to ear. ‘It’s your birthday, Uncle Nick. Did you forget?’
‘No.’ Nick ruffled Sam’s hair and then swept him up for a hug. ‘I didn’t forget. I just wanted to see you smile, buddy.’
It was Elsie who was smiling when her food claimed Nick’s attention.
‘That was the best roast lamb I’ve ever tasted, Elsie. You’re an amazing cook.’
Elsie blushed modestly. ‘I just hope you like chocolate cake.’
The icing on the cake was threatening to melt under the heat of so many candles.
‘Sam, I don’t think I can blow all these out all by myself.’
Sam made a valiant effort, though it was clearly Nick’s breath that extinguished the candles. It created a surprising amount of smoke, which was enough to start Sam coughing, but the short delay to find his inhaler didn’t dampen the party atmosphere.
‘It’s the best cake ever,’ Nick decreed.
‘I helped,’ Sam told him proudly. He was still a little wheezy but he’d stopped coughing. ‘And I got to lick the spoon.’
‘Lucky you.’
And finally, in the swiftness with which Nick’s gaze met hers at the mention of licking something, Fiona saw what she’d been watching for from the moment he had arrived.
The acknowledgement of that kiss.
But it came with a wariness that was crushing.
Things were not going to change between them because Nick did not want things to change.
He really didn’t want it.
Was she surprised? No. Disappointed? Ridiculously so.
She collected herself, of course. Forced down bites of cake, carefully avoiding eye contact with Nick again. By the time they took their coffee to sit near the fire, when Elsie had shooed them from her kitchen, Fiona was capable of a genuinely happy smile. She was still going to get a lot of pleasure from giving Nick a gift he would appreciate.
Sam sat on the couch beside Nick to help him peel off the wrapping paper.
‘Oh…’ Nick actually seemed lost for words as he gazed as his gift. He opened the cover and seemed to spend a long time staring at the inscription Fiona had written.
To Nick, it said. On your thirtieth birthday. With my love, Fi
She’d added a postscript as well.
P.S. Magic happens
Nick had his arm around Sam as he finally looked up at Fiona.
‘I love it,’ he said simply. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you so much.’
There was no wariness in his gaze this time. There was something so much softer that Fiona felt her heart squeeze painfully.
With my love, she had written.
She just hadn’t realised how much truth those few words held.
She wasn’t just attracted to this man.
She was in love with him.
Sam was bemused by the silence around him. ‘Show me,’ he demanded, snuggling closer to Nick. ‘I want to see the pictures, please.’
Fiona sat very still, watching as Nick carefully turned the large pages and Sam leaned in. She heard his eager questions and the rumble of Nick’s deep voice as he answered them, but she wasn’t listening to what was being said. The sight of the two of them bent over the book, so close to each other, was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
The need to keep Nick in Sam’s life—in her life—was overwhelmingly powerful. If she was unexpectedly in over her head, it was her problem. She owed it to Sam to find a way to mask her feelings.
If Nick was this wary after that kiss, imagine how fast he would disappear if he had any idea of the truth she had just confronted.
They would never hear from him again. He’d cut himself off once before, hadn’t he? The only time Nick had spoken to Al after the wedding had been at the funeral of their parents. If his original family ties hadn’t been enough to prevent him vanishing, how could something as new and fragile as what he had found here stand a chance? Maybe there wasn’t enough time to strengthen it on this visit but, at the very least, Fiona could try and make sure the idea of a return visit was attractive.
Somehow she had to make Nick feel safe. To reassure him that nothing would change if he didn’t want it to.
‘Another glass of champagne for anyone?’ Elsie came in with the unfinished bottle Fiona had purchased on the shopping trip she had enjoyed so much that morning, when everything on her list had reminded her of Nick. ‘It’s a shame to waste it.’
The promise of something more than a birthday to celebrate had already evaporated. Champagne was out of place.
Or maybe not.
With a flash of insight Fiona could see perfectly clearly the path she needed to take right now.
‘Not for me,’ Fiona said firmly. ‘I had enough to drink last night to last me quite a while.’ The smile Nick received was apologetic. ‘Too much, I suspect, and I’m old enough to know better.’
The message was unmistakable and it felt so like a punch in his midriff that it was actually hard to suck in a new breath.
Fiona was telling him she’d only kissed him because she’d had too much to drink.
But, then, he’d already guessed that she’d imagined herself to be kissing a ghost. Why else would she have said his name with that undertone of appalled realisation?
He could still hear the echo of that whisper.
‘Oh, my God…Nick?’
It was a put-down that Nick couldn’t shake for the rest of that evening. Especially when things seemed to go from bad to worse. It should have been fun, spending a little time playing cars with Sam before he went to bed, but Fiona had been close by.
‘Where’s your red and white car, Sam?’ she asked brightly. ‘Daddy’s favourite car was red and white.’
Sam delved into the toy basket. ‘Here it is!’ He grinned up at Nick. ‘I’m going to win now, Uncle Nick. Just like my daddy always did. Did you see him race his red and white car?’
‘I sure did, buddy.’
‘Did you see him win?’
‘Sure.’ Somehow Nick found a smile. ‘Lots of times.’
Even Elsie was apparently happy to help the slide of Nick’
s spirits.
‘Alistair was a lot older than you, wasn’t he, Nick?’
‘Ten years.’ Would it make any difference to Fiona if she knew how little their relationship had resembled one of brothers? ‘He was more like an uncle than a brother.’
‘Good grief! That made me like your aunt, then?’ Fiona’s laugh sounded as forced as Nick’s smile had been.
‘You’re my uncle,’ Sam declared.
No. Nothing was going to help. Nick had been put firmly in his place tonight. The younger brother. The uncle.
No chance of being anything more.
No way of stepping out from the long shadows of the past.
Fiona must have guessed how he felt about her, which was hardly surprising, given that extraordinary kiss. A mistake, from her point of view, and she was now being kind but very carefully building a wall between them.
Brick by brick.
And every one of those damned bricks had his brother’s name on it.
It hadn’t worked.
The last thing Fiona had wanted was to drive Nick too far away. All she had been trying to let Nick know had been that she was aware of the age gap between them. That she had been his brother’s wife and wasn’t about to forget how important a role model Al had been for Nick. And that she wouldn’t dream of trying to make her relationship with Nick anything other than one of friendship and family.
Instead, she had created a barrier that seemed to be pushing them apart and the distance between them grew over the next few days, as though it had a life of its own.
Not that she had noticed on Monday. It had been so busy that their only interaction had consisted of patient handovers.
‘This is Mrs McKay. She’s fifty-seven years old and has had an angina attack, which was unresponsive to her GTN. She still has four out of ten chest pain, is tachycardic at 120 and tachypnoea of 30…’
‘This is Hayden. He’s eight and has a Colles’ fracture of his left arm after falling off his bike on the way to school…’
‘Siobhan is six months old. Vomiting and diarrhoea since yesterday and she’s not feeding well today. Temperature of 38.6…’
Her Four-Year Baby Secret Page 10
