by Sue MacKay
So much for thinking she was an intelligent woman.
Sanity.
Highly overrated.
She obviously didn’t have any.
Michael Laing ruled her heart. Someone had to as she was obviously incapable.
‘Morning. You look like you had the night from hell.’
As Michael crashed into her reverie for real Steph tripped over her feet and stared at him as if he was a stranger.
‘Why are you up? Didn’t you sleep well?’
There were deep shadows smeared across his cheekbones, but only mild pain in his eyes. Plus a dose of resignation. What was that about?
‘I prefer those nights where I don’t know a thing until the alarm goes off,’ he admitted. ‘Want a cup of tea? Unless you’ve changed your morning fix?’
He remembered. ‘I’ll get it. You stay put.’ He wasn’t putting weight on that leg for her. ‘Want one?’
‘Please. And can you wake Chantelle? She needs to get up and sort Aaron or she’ll be late for work. Oh, and Zac’s outside in the back yard. He was crossing his legs when I came out here half an hour ago.’
‘I received my good morning nudge the moment I stepped out of my car.’ And then she’d shut the door on him, focused on not waking Michael. ‘What sort of doggy mother am I?’ Opening the back door she called, ‘Zac? Where are you, boy?’
A black and tan form charged her, skidded to a halt at her feet, a big head bumping her. Wag, wag, went that thick tail.
A lump filled her throat as she leaned down to rub Zac’s head, then his back. Already she was smitten. Oh, come on. She’d been lost from the first pat she’d given him. Like with Michael. The first day he’d arrived in the ED to start his contract she’d been hooked. Their first kiss had had her falling for him.
Yeah, she’d always been in love with him. It was how all her important relationships had started. She and Jill had known from their first morning on the school mat that they were best pals. Freddy much the same—if not on the school mat. If ever she’d needed proof that she wasn’t going to get over Michael now she had it.
But she already knew that.
Steph sighed and nuzzled her face against Zac’s neck. ‘How come you’re so quick to trust me?’ It didn’t say a lot for his affection for his previous owner. Or did it mean the other woman’s love had taught him there were only kind people out there?
‘He whimpers a lot in his sleep.’
She’d forgotten how near Michael was.
‘I think he does miss his other home, but he’s very happy with you. Sucks up love and attention like a sponge,’ he added.
‘Strange how he turned up at my house and never left. He was there every time I went home. Why, boyo? Did you sense I’d buy you sirloin once week as a treat?’
‘What’s not to trust about you, Steph?’
‘I used to be a flight risk.’ Standing up, she ran a hand over her messy hair. ‘I ran out of Auckland when you finished with me. Then I left Queenstown when the two girls I worked with fell in love and had babies. As for London and Europe—I could never stay in one place for very long. The moment things seemed to be going great I’d find something to be unhappy about.’
Michael flinched. ‘But you’re home for good this time, right?’
‘I am. No matter what happens here, this is where I belong. It’s about the only thing I’m sure of some days.’
She closed the back door to keep the early-morning cold at bay and headed to the bench and that tea she was supposed to be making.
Oops, Chantelle needed rousing.
‘As long as I can keep that at the front of my mind,’ she muttered as she headed down the hall, ‘and not let the fear of being dumped again get in the way.’
* * *
So she loved Michael. She really loved him. Trying to get over him was never going to work. And with her being back here, now she needed a new plan.
A deep breath made her lungs sting. Go after him. Woo him. Show him how she felt. Prove her love was real and honest and for ever.
Steph sagged against the wall. Could she do that? Her heart was already Michael’s, so what was there to lose?
‘Steph? You okay?’ Chantelle stood in front of her.
Great. Now Michael’s sister would have the wrong impression of her.
‘I’m fine. I was coming to wake you up, but seems I wasn’t needed.’
‘Michael won’t believe I’m capable of setting an alarm.’ It was said with a smile but there was weariness in her voice. ‘He’s a work in progress when it comes to trusting me to live my life without mishaps.’
‘He wants the best for you.’
Steph had seen the surprise in Michael’s eyes when Chantelle had rung yesterday to say she’d stay the night here in case he needed help getting about. That surprise had been replaced with relief, showing how worried he’d been about being on his own.
‘If I didn’t know that I’d have left town years ago.’ Chantelle opened Aaron’s door, glanced over her shoulder to Steph. ‘How is Grumpy Socks this morning?’
‘Sitting in the kitchen looking tired. Did you have to get up for him during the night?’ Steph asked.
Chantelle grinned. ‘What do you think? This is Michael we’re talking about—self-sufficient and always giving help, never asking for any.’
Steph huffed. ‘Should’ve known.’
His sister stared at her. ‘How well do you know him? I thought you—It doesn’t matter.’
Was that disappointment in her eyes? Why? For what?
‘We worked together for a couple of years a while back, so I know him well professionally.’
Which meant she knew his stalwart character, his kindness, gentleness, his concern for people in dire situations.
‘So why are you here now? This isn’t a work environment, even if he does need your nursing skills.’
Good question—and one she still wasn’t ready to answer out loud. ‘He begged. I folded.’
‘Michael begged?’ Chantelle stared at her, her mouth widening into an infuriating grin. ‘My brother begged you to help him out?’
Uh-oh. Trouble lurking.
‘His mates were pushing me to acquiesce. I think Michael asked me to stay over just to shut them down.’
Take that on board and smoke it.
‘You mean Max and Jock?’ Chantelle nodded. ‘That I can believe. I also know exactly what they’re up to. You so don’t know what you’ve got yourself into. You’re fried!’
‘Mummy, I want Bugsy.’
Saved by the boy. Once more. She owed him an ice cream.
‘I’ll get that tea I’ve been trying to make for the last ten minutes.’
Michael was at the bench, his hip propped against it, dropping teabags into mugs. ‘Chantelle in a good mood?’
A scheming one. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’
‘She gets tired with Aaron and studying, and doesn’t always show how happy she is.’ He filled the mugs with boiling water.
‘Go and sit down. I’ll get these.’ Steph nudged him with an elbow.
Michael caught her arm, tugged her to face him. ‘I know you didn’t want to be here with me, so thanks again. I’m trying not to be a pain in the backside.’
Instant heat flared in her arm, sending sparks of desire along her arm. Not want to be with him? Wrong. She definitely wanted to be here. What she didn’t need was getting in a pickle over the sexual heat moving through her body at speed, sending her hormones into overdrive—all because his hand was on her arm.
Run that by me again.
‘Let’s move on. I am here—between shifts, at any rate. Someone has to make sure you don’t mow the lawns or finish chopping that firewood for a few days.’
‘I get it. You’ll be sleeping most of the day. I can’t do any noisy activities.�
��
Take your hand away before I fold into you for an activity not on your mind, let the need churning through me take over completely and make you laugh—at me.
‘Morning, big brother.’ Chantelle strolled into the kitchen. ‘Sleep well?’
Michael instantly dropped his hand and stepped back—too quickly if the groan that ripped across his lips was an indicator. The knuckles grabbing the edge of the counter were white.
Steph pulled a chair close. Put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Sit.’
He didn’t let go of the counter as he sagged onto the chair. ‘Silly bu—’
‘Small boy present,’ Chantelle warned.
‘Uncle Mike, I lost Bugsy. Mummy found him in my bed.’ Aaron stood in front of Michael, tiny hands on narrow hips as he stared at his uncle. ‘Do you want Bugsy to make you better?’
‘Sure.’
Steph kept her hand on Michael’s shoulder until the tension had seeped out of him. ‘Want me to change your dressing?’
‘After breakfast,’ Michael said. ‘Don’t need everyone getting in on the show.’
Zac’s paws clicked on the tiles as he came to nudge up against Steph’s thigh. Her other hand automatically dropped to his head.
A laugh had her snapping her head up. ‘What?’
Chantelle was grinning like a cat with the cream as her gaze roamed from her brother to Steph to Zac and back to Michael. ‘Nothing. Come and have a shower, Aaron. I need to get you to the daycare centre and me to class.’
Thank goodness Aaron raced away towards the bathroom and Chantelle had to follow before he got into mischief or Steph might have brained her for that smartass look in her eyes, as if she thought there was something going down between her and Michael.
‘What do you want for breakfast?’ she asked the man causing her endless problems with her hormones and her heart—and his sister.
‘I’ll fix something when you’ve gone to bed.’
‘Since I’m going to eat before doing that, I can make double. Scrambled eggs suit?’ As if she’d leave him sitting there with nothing to eat. ‘I can make enough for everybody.’
So much for cereal and easy.
‘Don’t start running around after my sister,’ he snapped. ‘She’s more than capable of looking after herself.’
‘Hey, cut it out. It’s no big deal to cook enough for four. Besides, I’d look a prize cow if I didn’t at least offer.’
What was his problem with his sister? Only one way to find out, and as she could hear the shower and Aaron’s chatter through the wall she had no compunction about not remaining quiet.
‘You’re not pleased Chantelle’s here?’
Michael tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling.
For a long moment she thought that was all the answer she was getting, so she went to the fridge to get eggs and cream. She’d make enough for everybody, and if it wasn’t eaten she’d have an egg sandwich for nightshift.
‘It’s not like her to help me.’
‘But you’re close?’ They seemed to be, despite the moments of tension she’d observed. ‘Or is it that you like looking out for Chantelle but don’t want to be on the receiving end of the same?’
He fixed her with a troubled gaze. ‘I’ve always got her back—and Aaron’s.’
She’d run with that—avoid the other idea since it didn’t seem to be sitting well with him. ‘The father’s not in the picture?’
‘He took off before Aaron was born. Which was a very good thing. At the time Chantelle was in a bad place, but pregnancy made her stop and take note of the appalling life she was leading, forced her to rethink her future.’
‘Hence university? That takes courage and strength. You’ve got to be proud of her.’
‘I am.’ Michael blinked as though he hadn’t considered that before. ‘But some days I wish she’d sort out the rest of her act instead of expecting me to always be there, picking up the pieces.’
Collecting Aaron from daycare when she was late being one of those pieces. Steph got it, but if it was her she’d be happy to grab what time she could with her nephew.
‘She made you dinner, stayed the night. That suggests a two-way helpline going on here.’
Michael blinked again, muttered slowly, ‘Yes, she did...’
Through the wall she heard the shower stop running so returned her attention to making breakfast. But while whisking cream into eggs and adding salt and pepper she was still seeing Michael’s face—filled with pain when he moved too quickly, with love when he looked at his nephew, exasperation when he talked about his sister. And confusion when he touched her arm.
The guy had a lot going on in that head. How much of a distraction was she? Did he ever think about their affair and wonder if he’d made the right decision to call it off? Did he want to spend time with her, get to know her better? Or was he glad he’d made the call and now couldn’t wait to be back on his feet and have her gone?
Of course he was.
The whisk flicked raw egg over the bench and the front of her uniform jersey and she cursed. She needed to get it cleaned for work that night. Banging the bowl in the microwave, she quickly wiped the bench before tugging her jersey over her head. And found Michael’s gaze locked on her—make that on her breasts as they stretched the buttons of her shirt.
At least that was what she thought he was staring at. Judging by the lust in his eyes, she knew she was right. He wanted her.
She still didn’t know for how long. Didn’t know if he needed one night in bed with her or a month’s worth.
Then he shook his head and glanced at the microwave, which was beeping. And now she had another answer. He might be feeling the need, but he wasn’t following through. Not because of his injury, but because he just wasn’t. Didn’t do the commitment thing.
She hated the fact that she could still hear those chill, heartbreaking words as if he’d said them yesterday.
‘I am not interested in a long-term relationship, with you or anybody.’
Blunt. Honest. Hurtful.
Carefully stirring the eggs, she swallowed the second lump in her throat of the morning.
Have breakfast, take Zac for a walk, then hit the pillow and get a few hours’ shut-eye. Let the day unfold as intended.
Her new and boringly normal life was reality. Shoving the bowl back in the microwave she pressed the start button. That was how it was.
You forgot about changing Michael’s dressing, seeing and touching his thigh, feeling his heat while you’re at it.
No, she hadn’t—she was deliberately avoiding thinking about it, that was all.
Nor had she forgotten that she was going to change his mind about trying to make him fall for her. Once she’d worked out how to go about it.
Aha. She already had Chantelle’s attention. Help might be around the corner.
* * *
Michael swallowed some painkillers and hobbled on his crutch to the lounge and the TV remote. Breakfast had been a shambles. Not the food, but Steph had gone into a funk for no reason he could fathom, and that had annoyed the hell out of him.
He liked having her around. No denying it. When she walked in the door after a night on the ambulance it seemed as though she’d always been doing that—as if she belonged here, with him.
Which was a perfectly good reason why he should be pleased her mood had changed and he was being kept at a distance.
When she’d changed his dressing she’d been aloof, the ultimate professional. Definitely not a friend or an ex-lover. Then she’d yawned—so unprofessional he’d have laughed if he hadn’t been afraid for his thigh. Exhaustion had been pulling at her shoulders, and her eyes hadn’t been their usual sparkling toffee shade. Night shifts did that to people not used to them, and Stephanie was still getting into her stride.
Zac had had his wal
k, he’d been offered more tea on their return, and then Stephanie had disappeared down the hallway to the bathroom for a shower. She hadn’t come to see him before she’d shut herself in the bedroom she was using. Was she sound asleep? Or tossing and turning in search of oblivion?
He could remember the sheer frustration of not being able to sleep after a long night shift in the department when he was training. It had felt as though his body had been craving sleep so much it couldn’t shut down.
The TV came to life and he waved the remote in the general direction of the channel button. What was happening in the world? Flicking channels, he listened to the news without really hearing it. Today he couldn’t drag up any sympathy or interest or outrage for the heinous crimes people were committing against each other all around the world. This morning his weary mind kept wandering to Stephanie. Cursing the fact that she should be annoying even when she wasn’t near.
He’d have enjoyed another bath—needed one really, if that pungent sweaty odour was anything to go by—but it would have to wait until Stephanie woke up, hopefully in an improved mood. If only he could bath himself, but taking a tumble on those tiles would not be a good look, and it wouldn’t help with getting back to work ASAP. And it would certainly not be sensible—which he was prone to be about most things.
Though not about Stephanie Roberts.
Oh, yeah? Meaning...?
Meaning that somehow she’d managed to get under his skin again. Could be she’d never actually got out from there. She definitely had him thinking about her far too often, in ways that had nothing to do with work or being friends. His mind, overruled by his body, kept fixating on the stunning curves her uniform did nothing to hide. He knew those curves, the silky skin covering them, Steph’s heated reaction to his fingers and lips skimming over her body.
Big mistake, having her stay here. But he’d really, truly believed he didn’t want a long-term relationship. Had he been lying to himself? Whether he had or not, it didn’t change the fact the he was still frightened of failure. Falling in love and then crashing and burning had been painful once—it would be catastrophic a second time.
