by Fiona Lowe
Don’t let me down: you’ll put me in therapy for years. ‘The ugly being him telling you that you weren’t woman enough for him?’
Her head inclined slightly and then her eyes glittered with resolute grit. ‘So, now you know all my sordid details. Aren’t you lucky we’re living in the moment and me and my emotional baggage will be heading back to Perth in a few weeks?’
He stood up and walked around to her, pulling her to her feet and into his arms, not really wanting to think about the fact her time here was finite. He stroked some inky-black hair back behind her ear. ‘Did you happen to see the graffiti that you’re a make-out bandit? I think we’ve managed to unpack and throw out the stuff about you not being woman enough.’
She smiled, a hint of hesitation spinning around her.
‘Maybe.’
‘Just maybe?’ He thought about what they’d done in her bed, how every time the darkness threatened to suck him under she managed to keep him in the moment, and how losing himself in her kept the past at bay in a way hard drinking, exercise or work had never been able to. He wanted their sex to help her too.
‘If it’s only a maybe then you need to practise more because I know how much you like to be the best at everything.’ He knew she could never resist a challenge but just in case he pressed his mouth to her ear, tracing the outline with his tongue, knowing that always made her melt against him and kiss him hard.
Her fingers reached for his belt buckle, unlacing the leather with expert ease, and then bluer-than-blue eyes shimmered with wicked intent. ‘Prepare to be exhausted.’
He grinned. ‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Mr Simmonds, there’s a spot on your lung that I want to do a biopsy on.’ Poppy sat in a chair opposite the Vietnam veteran, watching his expression carefully.
‘Cancer?’ He sounded resigned. ‘I’ve been waiting for the thing to catch up with me. Mates I served with have died from it.’
Poppy moved to temper the leap to that conclusion, although most of her agreed with him. ‘Or it could be something else, which is why I want to do the biopsy so we know exactly what we’re dealing with.’
‘This cough’s been with me for six months and the antibiotics haven’t done a damn thing. Doc, I’m a realist. The war never leaves you and this is just another reminder.’ The sixty-three-year-old’s gaze stayed steady.
Poppy was the one who dropped her gaze first. ‘I can only imagine what you went through and it probably doesn’t come close.’
He shifted in his chair. ‘Yeah, but I was one of the lucky ones. Janice and the girls, they’ve kept me going.’
Poppy knew Janice from the choir. ‘She’s a delightful woman, your wife. Being able to share your experiences with her must have helped.’
He shook his head vehemently. ‘I’ve never told her or the girls any of it. Why would I want to taint my home with horrors like that? No, that’s what army mates are for. With Janice I can forget.’
His reply astounded her. How could he have been married for thirty-odd years and completely avoided a topic that had had such an impact on his life? ‘And it’s important to forget?’
‘Yeah, love, it is.’ His head dipped in reverie for the briefest of moments before he looked back at her. ‘So when do you want to put me under the knife?’
Poppy showed her patient the thin, flexible bronchoscope, explained how he would be sedated and how the sample of tissue would be taken. ‘I can do it tomorrow. See Sarah on your way out for the paperwork.’
Her pager bleeped loudly. Need you in Emergency if you’re not scrubbed. Jen.
Mr Simmonds rose from his chair and extended his hand. ‘Thanks, Doc. I’ll let you get on with your day.’
She walked him to the door and then hurried towards Emergency. Jen met her as she pushed through the Perspex doors.
‘Great, I was hoping you weren’t in Theatre.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘There’s a child in the resus room with a broken leg and the pain and stress has triggered an asthma attack.’
Poppy pulled on the proffered gown as she walked towards the room, thinking the break must be pretty bad for Jen to call her. Usually young kids experienced greenstick fractures, which didn’t require surgery. ‘So, Matt’s in with the patient already?’
Jen frowned and shook her head. ‘No.’
Poppy’s hand stalled on the doorhandle, thinking about her very first day in Bundallagong. ‘But he’s on his way, right?’
‘No. I only called you.’
Poppy felt like she was missing something. ‘I’m happy to consult but this is his department and you can’t bypass him. You know how he hates that. You have to call him.’
Conflicting emotions played across the nurse’s face. ‘But the patient’s the spitting image of Annie.’
OK, now it was definite. She was totally missing something. ‘Who’s Annie?’
Jen’s eyes dilated in shock. ‘You don’t know? She was Matt’s three-year-old daughter. Lisa and Annie died together.’
His daughter. A wave of nausea hit Poppy so hard she thought she’d vomit on the spot. Oh, God! She’d thought it bad enough that he’d lost his beloved wife but she’d no clue he’d lost a child too. Lost so much. No wonder the town had no idea how to behave around him. ‘Page him.’
Genuine distress slashed Jen’s face. ‘But, Poppy, it will kill him.’
She shook her head, knowing that Jen’s intentions were good but sadly misguided, and wouldn’t help Matt one bit. ‘It’s not our place to make this decision for him. If he doesn’t want to treat the child, that’s fine. I can do it. But only he can make that choice.’
‘You don’t know him like we do or know what he’s been through. Sure, he’ll bark, but in this case, I know I’m right.’
The unfamiliar exclusion from Jen hit her with a chill, taking her straight back to high school, where she’d never fit in with the girls at school. Part of her wanted to side with Jen, to care for the fledgling friendship she was starting to value, but most of her knew this ‘protection mode’ was the worst thing in the world for Matt.
She tried to keep her voice even. ‘That’s very true.
I don’t know him like you do but this is a hospital, and protocol needs to be followed.’
‘Protocol over people?’ Jen muttered, before reluctantly picking up the phone.
Poppy bit her lip as she pushed open the door of the resus room, knowing she’d just lost a much-needed ally in Jen and, by default, the Perth job had taken another critical hit. But she’d worry about that later. Right now, she had a patient.
A distressed little girl rested against a bank of pillows with a vaporising mask on her face. Jen had correctly commenced a salbutamol nebuliser but the child was still visibly struggling to breathe, her chest heaving as she tried to force air into constricted and rigid lungs. Her left leg was encased in an air splint and a woman Poppy assumed was her mother sat next to her, holding her hands through the side bars of the emergency trolley.
‘Hello, I’m Poppy Stanfield and I’m going to insert an intravenous drip into …’ she picked up the chart ‘… Ashley’s arm and give her some drugs that will help her breathe.’
‘Thank you.’ The worried mother wrung her hands. ‘She hasn’t been this bad in a long time.’
Poppy nodded her understanding and turned her attention to the little girl. ‘Hey, Ashley.’ She picked up a cuddle bear that Jen had provided. ‘Can you give this bear a big hug for me? He’s a bit scared and I know you can show him how to be brave while I put a needle into your arm, OK?’
The little girl’s eyes widened in fear. ‘Will it hurt?’
‘Not as much as your leg does.’ Poppy slid the brightly coloured tourniquet around the child’s small, pudgy arm and prayed she could find a vein on her first attempt. Surgeons didn’t insert IVs very often—that’s what anaesthetists were for.
As she swabbed Ashley’s arm with alcohol and popped the cover off the cannula, she heard r
aised voices outside. Matt’s rough-voiced yell at Jen didn’t surprise her in the least—that she could have predicted. What she couldn’t foretell was how he’d react to Ashley.
Matt strode into the room with blind rage, boiling and ready for a fight. First Jen and now Poppy. Not since her first day had she made an arbitrary decision about a patient and he’d thought they’d worked all that out. So much for collegial respect. He couldn’t understand it because just lately she’d actually been doing pretty well and gaining ground with the staff, but it was stunts like this that made him wonder if she’d ever learn.
Certainly, after hearing her talk about her father, he totally got why her need to win was so deeply ingrained and work was her world but, damn it, in this instance she knew better. He triaged and if she was required for a consult he called her. It didn’t work the other way around.
Poppy’s left hip rested on the edge of the trolley and her hair, which caressed his face every night when they had sex, cascaded down her back in a sleek, silky ponytail. She was leaning forward, deep in concentration, and he saw her hand reach for the pre-cut strips of tape on the dressing trolley. The angle of her body blocked his view of the patient but, no matter; he’d see him or her in a moment when he asked Poppy to step down.
‘I’m sure you’re required elsewhere, Ms Stanfield. I’ll take over here.’
She turned and something in her cornflower-blue gaze sent a shiver of disquiet through him. He’d seen those eyes steely with the determination of a woman on a mission, shadowed by the memories of inflicted hurts, filled with the burning fires of lust, and sated with the fog of complete satisfaction. Not once had he ever seen sympathy in their depths, and although it made no sense that is exactly what he saw.
‘Ashley, Beth, this is Matt Albright, our emergency specialist. I’m sorry he wasn’t here to greet you—there was a slight miscommunication with the nursing staff.’ She adjusted the flow of the IV and then moved aside.
His chest tightened so fast air couldn’t move in or out of it. A little girl with a riot of blonde curly hair and clutching a hospital bear stared at him through huge, violet eyes.
Daddy, look! I’ve got a doctor bear with a white coat just like yours.
No. No! This isn’t possible. His heart thundered hard and fast, pushing blood through a body that was both icily numb and throbbing in pain. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he blinked rapidly, as if that would help change the image in front of him. But when his eyes refocused, his daughter’s double was still there on the trolley, struggling to breathe but, unlike his Annie, still breathing.
‘I’ve started Ashley on IV methylprednisolone.’ Poppy pulled a stethoscope out of her pocket and held it out towards him.
He snatched it like a lifeline. ‘I’ll page you if I need you.’
‘I can stay.’ The quiet tone of her voice matched her eyes.
His stomach churned and bile seared his gut. God, she knew. How the hell did she know? The town had gone silent, never mentioning the two people he’d loved as much as life itself, and he damn well hadn’t told Poppy about Annie because he didn’t want her to know. He’d never wanted to see ‘that look’ in her eyes.
‘Get out.’ He heard Beth’s shocked gasp at the aggression in his voice but he didn’t care. No way was he having Poppy in here with pity in her eyes, offering to take over or watching him struggle to keep it all together. Worse still, fall apart. He got enough of that from all the staff.
Her hand crept towards her pendant but stopped short. She rolled her shoulders back and stripped off her gloves. ‘Ashley is in excellent hands, Beth, and hopefully the break is a clean one that only requires a cast.’ She took a quick step forward and touched Ashley’s hand with genuine caring. ‘You look after that bear for me, won’t you?’
The scared little girl nodded behind the mask as if she was petrified by the thought of Poppy leaving.
At that point Matt didn’t know who he hated most—himself, Poppy or the universe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALTHOUGH Ashley didn’t require surgery, a burns victim from the day before did, and that had tied Poppy up in Theatre until past six. She’d been thankful to have been kept busy because thinking about how much Matt was hurting was just too painful. She hurt too, even though she didn’t want to, but the fact he’d never told her about Annie ate at her, making a mockery of everything they’d shared.
What did you expect? The deal you made was no-strings sex. That’s want you want, remember, because it’s safe.
Except you’ve been sharing meals and sharing stories, laughing together, and he’s become a friend.
The thought chafed like a rash of doubt; hot, prickly and decidedly uncomfortable. Turning her doorhandle, she realised they probably weren’t likely to be sharing anything any more. Not when he’d ordered her to leave ED in a voice that could have cut steel, and the look in his eyes had packed the velocity and damage of a bullet ripping through flesh. She stepped inside and the low glow of a lamp greeted her.
‘Poppy.’
With a start she turned towards the sound of the deep but expressionless voice and instantly recognised those familiar and tormented eyes. Surprise became tinged with concern and her heart beat faster. ‘Matt? I didn’t exp—Are you all—?’ But his taut face stole her words, silencing her.
Go for neutral. ‘You finished up earlier than I did.’
With his mouth grim and tense, he strode straight to her, his hands gripping the tops of her arms. Silently, he hauled her up onto her toes, pulled her against him, and then took her mouth in a kiss, plundering it with a frenzy close to desperation.
Surprise spun through her at the fact he was there at all, and intensified at the knowledge he still wanted her given what had happened in the ED. She opened her lips under his, wanting and trying to claim her place in the kiss and struggling to find it. She’d never been kissed quite like it, urgent need spinning together with what she guessed was misery.
With a gasp he pulled his mouth away and, still silent, grabbed her hand, tugging her up the hallway to the bedroom. Her feet stumbled at the speed and she should have been angry, perhaps even on one level scared, but all she could feel was his pain roaring through her like a hot wind.
Then his mouth was on hers again, hot, hard and frantic, and she was tumbling back onto the bed. ‘This is in the way.’ With clumsy movements he pushed her dress upwards but his hands fumbled with her bra.
‘Let me do that.’ She quickly undid the clasp and unbuckled his belt, and when the clothes were gone, she wrapped her arms tightly around him. Holding him close, trying to give him comfort, and then she kissed him. Softly.
He returned the kiss and for one brief moment his shuttered eyes opened and she saw ragged pain and torment. Her heart cramped so hard she felt the spasm tear clear through her, sending his searing hurt into every cell. She knew then he needed her to be there just for him.
His mouth pressed against her neck, marking a line of ownership as if she might vanish underneath him. Her hands soothed him by caressing his back while he kissed her, but it was like there was an invisible wall between them. But then his mouth took her breast in the way he knew she loved, and her body started to rise on a familiar stream of pleasure. As her mind slipped into bliss and her hips rose to meet his, he entered her, burying himself deeply.
Sensations built, spinning through her, and she wrapped her legs around him, feeling all of him and giving all of herself to him. She touched his face as she always did, seeking his gaze that filled her with joy. But like a man in a trance he looked right through her and all she could see was the reflection of a man trying to outrun his demons. A man who still loved his dead wife.
She swallowed her gasp of hurt. She wanted to wave a wand and change everything. For her. For him. She’d do anything to take away his pain and hurt but she had no power to do that. So she did the only thing she could. She held him tight and sheltered him until he sank with a sob against her, exhausted and spent.
/> Matt felt Poppy move under him and like a shock of electricity ripping through him he jolted back to earth, realising what he’d just done. He’d taken and not given much in return. He rolled off her, immediately stroking her hair. ‘Hell, Poppy. I’m sorry.’
Her clear gaze hooked his and she put a finger against his lips. ‘So you got it wrong once. Just don’t make a habit of it.’ She shot him a cheeky smile. ‘Of course, if you’re feeling guilty at not totally meeting my needs, you can always buy me flowers, chocolates, champagne and fill my freezer with delicious meals from Lizzie’s Kitchen.’
An uncomfortable relief settled over him and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. A breath of thanks. Pressing a tender and appreciative kiss to her forehead, he said, ‘Is that all? Nothing in a pale blue box?’
She fingered her pendant. ‘No, thanks, I buy my own.’
And that was Poppy to a P. Completely independent. Deep down something ached. He knew he owed her a full and detailed explanation about what had just happened but he couldn’t do that until he’d made amends. He trailed a finger gently along the curve of her jaw. ‘Can I start to make it up to you now?’
Black brows rose. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘A neck massage. I know surgeons spend a lot of time looking down, which is tough on the neck muscles.’
She reached out and pressed her hand against his chest, in the same way she always did, with fingers splayed wide. ‘Hmm, that might be nice, but I don’t have any massage oil.’
Damn. Why hadn’t he ever thought of buying some? He covered her hand with his. ‘Well, I could massage you in the shower, using soap.’
‘Perhaps.’ She pouted, her lips slick with the sheen of desire. ‘Surgeons also get aching shoulders and backs.’
