Then Ben glanced up and said, ‘Can you explain what you’re doing?’
So much for her peace and quiet!
‘Annie caught the tender skin on her ulcer when she fell,’ she said, pointing out the messy tear so Steve could zoom in on it. ‘I just need to clean it up, check there’s no hidden damage and then dress it. The trouble is that venous ulcers, or ulcers that form because of poor blood supply, can be notoriously difficult to heal, and anything like this just sets it back, which is a shame. And also, of course, there’s the danger of infection with a dirty wound. Annie, what did you fall over, my love?’
‘A shopping trolley—you know, one of those tartan bags on a stick that people drag round after themselves. I just didn’t see it—very silly of me, I know. I hit myself on the corner of a shelf, I think.’
‘So she’s had quite a heavy fall, but inside a shop and there probably isn’t much risk of infection. Before we send her home, though, we need to make sure she’s not got any other injuries lurking that she may not have noticed or thought about.’
‘Any other bumps?’ Ben asked Annie, and she leant over confidingly.
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but perhaps you’d better check me over!’ she said, giggling like a school-girl.
Ben chuckled and patted her hand. ‘You’ll get me in trouble,’ he said.
‘Just so long as it isn’t the other way round!’ she said with a wicked little wink, and he laughed again and told her she was incorrigible.
He was being so nice to her, and while Meg cleaned the wound and dressed it and explained to the camera how the colloidal dressing worked, the other half of her mind—no, make that at least three quarters—was thinking what a crying shame it was he’d given up medicine, because his bedside manner, when he made the effort, was wonderful.
And she didn’t want to think about his bedside manner, not while he was twinkling and flirting and giving Annie the benefit of that incredibly sexy smile.
‘Right, my love, you’re all finished,’ she said briskly, and Annie looked blankly at her for a second.
‘Oh!’ She looked down at her leg and blinked in surprise. ‘That was quick. Thank you, Meg, dear. It doesn’t feel too bad either. Bit tender.’
‘It will be. I’ve put another colloidal dressing on it and I’ll put some Tubigrip on to support your whole leg for a while, just to keep the swelling down.’
She measured the bandage from toe to mid-thigh, doubled it and slipped it over the cylindrical frame, then slid it onto Annie’s leg to give a smooth double layer with a nice snug fit.
‘How’s that?’
‘Lovely. Now, I’d better pull my skirt down before I embarrass this nice young man by flashing my legs at him!’ she twinkled, and Ben laughed, showing yet again this warm and human side of him she’d hardly seen before.
It was just a shame he couldn’t seem to show it to her…
CHAPTER FIVE
‘FLISS?’
‘Meg, hi! How’s it going?’
Meg tucked her feet under her and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder while she peeled the top off a pot of yoghurt. ‘OK, I suppose. Well, no, pretty grim really, if I’m honest. I’d love to see you. Are you busy tonight?’
‘No, of course not. Want dinner?’
Meg didn’t hesitate. The yoghurt was the only thing in her fridge that wasn’t out of date or wrinkled, and she jumped at the chance of some of Fliss’s wonderful home cooking.
‘That would be great. What time?’
She never found out. Her phone beeped three times and died, and she stared at it in disbelief and stuck it back on the charger. Of course, if she’d done that in the first place, the battery wouldn’t have been flat now, and her mobile was flat, too.
Oh, well, she thought with a shrug, Fliss won’t mind if I’m early. I’ll just go.
She eyed the yoghurt, thought of breakfast and put it back in the fridge, then grabbed her bag and keys and let herself out, running down the four flights of stairs to the street door.
That was the disadvantage of living on the top floor, she thought, eyeing her mangled car radio aerial in disgust. She was too far from the vandals to see and hear them. She’d only been home for two hours!
Oh, well. At least it wasn’t the windscreen wipers this time, and she had a fair idea who it was. If she could only catch them…
She turned on the engine, turned off the crackling radio and went via the corner shop to pick up a box of chocolate truffles. Fliss and Tom always had wine in stock and knew far more about it than she did, and the garden was stuffed with flowers, but she didn’t like to go empty-handed. Anyway, Fliss was as thin as a rake, despite moaning about losing her waist, so chocolates were fine.
She drove straight round to the back of the house, let herself in through the side gate into the walled garden and banged on the kitchen door. There was no reply, and as the door was open she went in, calling out to Fliss.
Nothing, but she could hear footsteps overhead in the flat, so she dropped the truffles on the kitchen table, went through the connecting door into the rear hall and ran up the back stairs.
‘Fliss, hope I’m not too early but my phone cut out…’ She trailed to a halt in confusion. ‘Ben?’
Oh, yes, it was certainly Ben—stark naked and wringing wet, and as she stared a dribble ran from his hair and trailed down his broad, solid chest, through the scatter of dark hair and down, disappearing into the towel he held clamped firmly against the taut, smooth plane of his abdomen. Her eyes locked on it, mesmerised, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
Forgot her own name, for heaven’s sake, because he was simply…
A hand—the one that wasn’t holding the towel—appeared in her line of sight, held flat at hip height, and he raised it slowly to his mocking eyes.
‘Thank you,’ he said, echoing her reaction at their first meeting, and she felt hot colour scorch her cheeks.
Gorgeous. He was simply, utterly gorgeous. Stunning. She gulped and sucked in some much-needed air. ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t realise you were here. I thought it was Fliss.’
‘No, it’s definitely me.’ He looked down at himself and nodded confirmation. ‘Yup, that’s my body.’
She glanced down, her mouth forming an O, then yanked her eyes back up, her cheeks flaming again.
‘So—how come…?’
‘I’m staying here. The woman in the hotel got a bit much—like a black widow spider. I kept waiting for her to drag me into her lair and have her evil way with me.’
Oh, lord. Did he have to talk about that?
‘Um—I’ll let you get dressed,’ she said, absurdly flustered considering she spent large parts of her day taking people’s clothes off. But not this man’s. Oh, no.
Unfortunately.
Quickly, before she could say or do anything else stupid, she turned and headed for the stairs, but his voice stopped her.
‘Wait. They’re out—they’ve gone to pick up the kids from Fliss’s mother. Make yourself at home here, I won’t be long. I want to talk to you.’
He did? That made a change. Maybe he was finally going to tell her what the hell was eating him.
With a shrug she headed for the sofa and stared resolutely out of the window, trying not to think about him dressing in the room next door, drying those long, muscular legs, rubbing a towel over them, over that flat, taut abdomen, the hair-scattered chest. Dragging on underwear, jeans, a shirt, clinging to the damp skin…
Damp? Try wet. He reappeared in moments, dressed in those disreputable old jeans again with a raspberry-pink T-shirt that was only slightly more respectable. She imagined it had once been red, but no more. A million washes had seen to that. And now there were damp patches appearing on it where the hair lay on his chest, moisture clinging to the curls. She could just picture it…
His feet were bare, and she could see the water gleaming on them as he walked round and stood in front of her, staring down at her in thoughtful silence.<
br />
She leant back against the sofa so she could look up at him without getting a crick in her neck, and after a while he sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair.
‘I owe you an apology,’ he said eventually. ‘I went off on one today, and I shouldn’t have done. I’m sorry.’
Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that, and her jaw must have dropped, because he gave a short huff of laughter.
‘Close your mouth, Meg,’ he said gently.
It snapped shut, and she struggled upright, hitching herself into the corner of the sofa and crossing her legs, her hands tucked down under her ankles. He grinned crookedly.
‘Michael sits like that,’ he said softly, and dropped onto the other end of the sofa with a tired sigh.
She dragged in a breath and searched his face, but there were no clues. She let it out in a whoosh.
‘So what brought that on?’ she asked.
‘The apology? My sense of justice, I suppose. It was hardly your fault. It just makes me angry when kids get injured needlessly.’
Meg nodded, knowing exactly where he was coming from. ‘You’re absolutely right, of course. Parents should make every attempt to ensure their children are safe, but I didn’t feel that that woman at that precise moment needed a lecture, and she has a point. Kids can make Houdini look like an amateur.’
Ben nodded. ‘I know,’ he said gruffly. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry I laid into you and stalked off like that.’
Conceding the point and apologising? Wow. Tipping her head, she asked, ‘So where did you go?’
He shrugged and shook his head. ‘Dunno. There’s a park somewhere near the hospital. I went for a run, then found a café and got a coffee, then gave in to my conscience and went back.’
‘So can I ask why you overreacted?’ she said softly, but his mouth tightened into a grim line.
‘Let’s just say today was too close for comfort.’
So Meg let it go. For now.
‘Oh, well, you get a day off tomorrow,’ she reminded him, but he shook his head.
‘No. I’m shadowing you on and off duty for a week. That’s the deal, although it doesn’t make you any happier than it makes me. As you said, we’re stuck with each other.’
Did her dismay show on her face? She hoped not. ‘The viewers will die of boredom. I need to do something to my flat, because it’s a bit of a pigsty at the moment, and the only thing in my fridge is a yoghurt, so it’s not going to be exactly riveting.’
‘Or we could skive,’ he said slowly.
‘Skive?’
‘As in bunk off—play truant—run away?’
The idea had definite appeal, and it certainly beat doing her washing in public! ‘Where did you have in mind?’
He gave a deep grunt of laughter. ‘Somewhere Pete Harrison can’t find us,’ he said drily.
‘Alaska?’ she suggested, and he chuckled.
‘Bit chilly. How about a walk on the beach?’
‘There’s a place near Southwold,’ she suggested. ‘It’s pretty empty. There’s not a lot goes on there, just a few holiday cottages and the gulls for company. You’ll get some privacy, especially if we go early in the morning.’
She half expected him to baulk at that, but he didn’t.
‘We could go for a run—is it sandy?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Yes. There’s a shingle bank at the top, but it’s lovely by the water—firm and smooth.’
‘Then we’ll do that. I’ll pick you up. We’ll go at five, before Pete starts to nag, and we’ll get breakfast somewhere on the way back, and then, if they really insist, they can follow us for the rest of the day while you do your shopping.’
Meg rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, joy,’ she said, but all she could think about was running on the beach with him in less than twelve hours, and her heart gave a little jiggle.
‘This is gorgeous.’
She smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favourite places in the world.’
‘And my mobile’s not about to ring, so no Pete to nag us.’
‘What a shame.’
He returned her grin, and waved a hand at the beach. ‘OK, lead the way.’
She set off along the sand, the wind tugging at her hair and Ben beside her, easily keeping pace, measuring his stride to hers. And it was heaven. The sun was crawling slowly up into the sky, its early rays not yet too hot for comfort, and the beach was utterly deserted.
She flashed him a smile, and he smiled back, looking utterly relaxed for the first time that week. Relaxed and happy, and because of that she relaxed too, and filled her lungs with the fresh sea air, and stopped thinking.
Stopped thinking about Ben, and whatever it was about the hospital that made him so uncomfortable, and why he’d given up medicine, and concentrated instead on putting one foot in front of the other and enjoying his company in the glorious dawn.
And then, of course, because nothing lasted for ever, they reached the end of the long stretch of beach and slowed to a walk.
He turned to her, hands on hips and breathing fast, and grinned. ‘What now?’
She grinned back and shrugged. ‘Up to you. We can run back, we can walk back—’
‘Or we could go for a swim.’
‘I haven’t got my bikini.’
‘Neither have I.’
His mouth twitched, and she bit her lip.
‘Are you suggesting we skinny-dip?’ she asked, and he gave one of those Gallic shrugs that turned her heart inside out.
‘I had thought of underwear. We can always go commando on the way home. But skinny-dipping’s cool by me.’
She looked around. Nothing. Not even the dog walkers were out yet. She mentally scanned her underwear and could have groaned. Because they were running, she’d put on her sports bra and proper knickers—hardly the sexiest things in the world, and certainly nothing she’d want to show off to Ben.
But they knocked spots off removing everything completely!
‘I promise I won’t look,’ he said, but his eyes were full of mischief and she didn’t believe him for a moment.
And suddenly she decided she didn’t care. It was a gorgeous morning, there wasn’t a soul around, and if she wanted to swim naked with the sexiest and most intriguing man she’d ever met, there was nothing to stop her.
Except cowardice.
‘Race you,’ she said. Ripping off her T-shirt and shorts, she kicked off her trainers, tugged off her socks and pelted for the sea.
‘Fraidy cat,’ he yelled, racing past her clad in a pair of clingy jersey boxers and diving cleanly into the waves.
Maybe, but she wasn’t ready to bare all in front of him, sexy and intriguing or not, and it seemed she wasn’t alone.
She hit the water less than a second after him, and the cold took her breath away.
She shrieked as she came up for air, and he laughed and dived under the surface, coming up behind her, sluicing the water off his hair and shaking his head like a dog. She turned and splashed him, and the next minute they were playing like dolphins, diving and twisting and laughing, always laughing, until finally they came to a halt, just inches apart.
Their eyes locked, and she felt her smile fade.
‘You’ve got hair in your eyes,’ he murmured, and his hand came out and lifted a wet strand away from her face. For one breathless, endless moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and her heart stopped.
Then he turned away, diving into the water and swimming strongly out to sea, leaving her treading water and watching him carve his way through the waves as if he’d been born there, while her heart hiccuped and started to beat again.
Her hand came up and covered her lips, tingling with anticipation. She’d really thought he was going to kiss her. Could have sworn it. She ached for his touch—ached to hold him, to be held by him.
But it wasn’t to be, apparently.
With a weary sigh she turned, making her way slowly through the shallows to the firm, wet sand of the be
ach. Without looking back, she tugged on her T-shirt and shorts, then stuffed her socks into her shoes and moved up onto the dry sand. She was cold now, and she sat hugging her legs and shivering as she watched him make his way slowly back to shore.
Ben dressed in silence, then came and stood over her, holding out his hand without a word. She let him pull her to her feet, and without releasing her he turned and headed slowly back the way they’d come.
They strolled in silence, although not really a companionable silence. It was too full of anticipation to be simply companionable, and Meg felt the tug of attraction between them humming with tension as they walked.
Was this the beginning of something between them? Or just a truce? She didn’t know, but the question burned in her mind as they walked along the water’s edge, their bare feet leaving imprints in the wet sand.
At regular intervals along the shoreline the remains of the old wooden breakwaters marched out into the sea, sticking up like rows of black and broken teeth out of the sand, and beyond one there was a drop.
He jumped down, turned and lifted her, sliding her down his body so she could feel every inch of him. His hands had slipped up her ribcage to come to a halt under her breasts, and as he set her on her feet his eyes locked with hers. For a moment he hesitated, then released her and turned away.
She bit back a sigh of frustration and fell in beside him. So, just a truce, then. Well, if he wouldn’t kiss her, maybe he would talk. Open up a bit, reveal something of himself—anything! She was getting sick of knowing so little, and he intrigued her. Boy, did he intrigue her! She tried to keep her voice casual.
‘So how did a nice guy like you end up in a place like this?’ she said, and he chuckled.
‘Is Suffolk so bad?’
‘I meant the TV thing. It’s a bit off the wall.’
He shrugged. ‘I’d done a bit of TV doctor stuff—nothing significant, but I had contacts. I needed a job—they were looking for a lunatic to take on the show and I fitted the bill.’
She chuckled. ‘A lunatic?’
Holding Out For a Hero Page 7
