Sally found herself agreeing. She'd seen him on the previous two days working under pressure, calmly making rapid and accurate assessments of severely injured patients, working steadily to stabilise them without drama and haste, and yet getting everything done as necessary.
That was a rare gift. To be able to do something simple like pop a kneecap back so deftly into place in a young lad who knew only too well how painful it could be took a whole different set of skills, and clearly he had them, too.
Blast. She didn't need to add admiration of his professional qualities to her already long list of reasons for falling for him! She needed distance. She needed to be able to look at him and think, He's just an ordinary man.
She didn't need him to be anything special, to stand out from the crowd and make himself any more desirable to her. It had been bad enough before she knew how good a doctor he'd be. Now it was next to impossible.
She sighed and cleared up the cubicle, and found herself wondering if Nick had had any sleep last night or if he routinely had bags under his eyes these days.
He'd looked tired, she thought, and a little pensive. Because of Amy? Or because of her?
Amy, probably. He hadn't wanted to stay for coffee last night after their simple meal, even when she'd offered to let him make it. Stupidly, perversely, that had hurt.
She was nuts. She didn't want to encourage him. Last night when he'd turned up, he'd been the last person in the world she'd wanted to see.
What she needed was a personal stereo, with a constantly running loop of tape reminding her of all the reasons why he was bad news.
All she had to do was remember what they were and she'd be fine...
*
It was a long old day, Nick thought. A long old day after a singularly long and unrefreshing night. And tonight probably wouldn't be any better. Since he'd seen Sally again, all his sleep was filled with dreams of her. Still, he might be having nightmares about his house purchase tonight instead, if the solicitor hadn't got his finger out yet.
He finished work at six, drove back to his motel and phoned the 24-hour conveyancing firm who were handling his house purchase.
'Any joy?' he asked them, and was told that the sale had been completed at noon and the house was now his.
'The keys are with the neighbour,' the solicitor told him. 'You can collect them any time you like. The services have been left on and the meters read, so you've got light and water and the phone all ready for you.'
'Excellent,' he said, and, after discussing a few last details, he hung up, paused for a moment and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.
She'd probably say no. She would if she had any sense, at least. With a rough sigh, he stabbed in her number and waited.
*
She must be mad. Why on earth had she agreed to go and see his house with him? She didn't care where Nick lived, didn't want to know. She didn't want to be able to picture him in it, or know where it was so she could drive past in the night and see if his lights were still on.
Been there, done that, she thought heavily.
And yet here she was, waiting for him by her front door, her eyes fixed on the point in the road where his car would appear, and her tongue was all but hanging out! Stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl—
There he was. The car coasted to a halt beside her and he leant over and opened the door. 'Hi, there,' he said with a grin. 'All set?'
Sally nodded, trying to remind herself that sparkling blue eyes and a sexy grin didn't make him a reliable person. He'd walked out on their relationship before, he could do it again.
This was just friendship—one friend going with another to see his new house and express a little friendly interest.
Nothing else.
So why, she thought as she slid in beside him and fastened her seat belt, did it feel so very much like a date?
'I need to get the key off the neighbour first. I've rung her, and she's in. I just hope she isn't incurably nosy.'
'Bound to be. It's human nature.' And I'm here to fuel the gossip, she thought with a sinking heart. Oh, well.
Nick's new house was in a nicely established village-style development a few minutes from the hospital side of the town, in a very pleasant but fairly modest road fringed with trees. The houses varied from large detached executive-types to semis and little bungalows; it was an interesting mix, and the small detached house on the corner outside which he pulled up seemed at first glance much like one or two of the other middle-of-the-range houses she could see.
Then through the trees she noticed the large hexagonal extension on the back, tall windows almost filling three sides of it and stretching from floor to ceiling. Her interest aroused, she lurked restlessly outside the garden fence while he went to retrieve the keys, trying to peer through without being too conspicuous and wishing he'd hurry up.
After what seemed like an age he came back with a broad grin and a keyring dangling from his fingers, and let them in.
'Welcome to chez, moi,' he said with a wry smile, and looked around him.
'As you remember it?' she asked, recalling that her own house hadn't been.
'Pretty much,' he murmured, running his fingers experimentally over the banister rail. 'Come and have a guided tour.'
Nick led her down the long hall past the stairs and into the sitting room, an L-shaped room with patio doors out to the garden and a bookcase wall that she positively envied him. She still had boxes of books in a spare bedroom waiting for a shelf to put them on.
'Nice room,' she said, looking round. 'The carpets and curtains seem all right.'
He shrugged. 'They're not in their first flush of youth, but they'll do for a while. At least the decor's neutral. Come on, I want to show you the rest.'
'What's through there?' she asked, indicating another door.
'Uh-uh,' he said, propelling her gently back into the hall. 'I'm saving that till last. Upstairs.'
She ran up, looking round the three perfectly ordinary and decent bedrooms and the bathroom with its gleaming white suite.
'Looks new.'
'It is,' he told her. 'The previous owners only did it six months ago, and then she got pregnant again and they decided they needed a bigger house. They've got three children already.'
Lucky them, Sally thought. 'I can see why they'd be a bit crowded. How do you get to the other bedroom?'
'It's only got three.'
'But—the bit at the back...'
He gave a cheeky grin and tapped the side of his nose. 'All in good time,' he said, and led her downstairs and through the galley kitchen to the hexagonal room that had caught her attention.
It was just as interesting as she'd expected, like walking into a huge Victorian bay window with the walls set at forty-five degrees, and because the windows filled the walls and came right down to floor level, it really seemed to be a part of the garden. It had a lovely feel, and in the corner was the answer to her question.
'A spiral staircase!' she said, finally understanding. 'I was wondering if it didn't have an upstairs but just a huge vaulted ceiling, and it seemed such a waste, but I couldn't work out how you'd get to it. So is it another bedroom?'
'No, it's my study, and it's the reason I bought the house,' he told her with a grin. He waved an arm at the stairs. 'Go on up.'
She went, and found herself in a wonderful room with another wall of fitted bookshelves on one side and the fabulous floor-to-ceiling windows on the other.
The branches of a birch tree outside grazed the glass like a natural net curtain and lent the room a wonderful air of seclusion.
'Oh, it's gorgeous, it's like being in a tree-house!' she said, and turned to him with a smile. 'Now I'm very definitely jealous!'
'Tough, it's mine,' he said, his smile smug, but his eyes held a strange expression that made her feel strangely sad. After a second he looked away, drawing in a deep breath and looking round the room in satisfaction.
'It's going to be wonderful to have a proper stu
dy,' he said after a moment. 'I've got so much work to do for my exams, and it will be brilliant to be able to come up here and get on with it in amongst the tree-tops.'
'You always were a tree-hugger,' she teased, but he shook his head.
'I don't have time to look at the trees,' he said with a wry smile. 'More's the pity. I don't have much time for anything.'
'Oh, poor baby,' she said, still teasing, and he rolled his eyes.
'Come on, let's go down and put the kettle on.'
'Is there one?' she asked doubtfully. She hadn't seen one in passing, but their tour of the kitchen had been brief to say the least!
'There is in my car.' He went out and came back with a couple of carrier bags. After unpacking the kettle and other goodies, he filled it and plugged it in.
'There's a card here,' she told him, waving a brightly coloured envelope at him. 'It was propped up on the worktop. From the previous people, I suppose. It's addressed to you.'
Sally handed him the envelope, and he slit it open and read it, then smiled.
'How kind. Here, have a look. You can stick it up on the shelves in the sitting room—it can be my first ornament.'
She scanned the card, just a simple straightforward 'Welcome to your New Home' type of card, but inside they'd written, 'Hope you're as happy here as we have been. Good luck with your dreams. Jo and Ross.'
'Isn't that sweet of them?' she murmured, and wondered what dreams he had, and if Jo and Ross had known about them. She went through to the sitting room and put it in the middle of the shelves. When she turned round he was standing right behind her.
'It's a little lonely,' he said with a crooked smile, and then looked down at her, his eyes tracking her face. 'So, what do you think of the house?' he asked, collecting himself visibly after a breathless second.
Sally ignored the thump of her heart and returned his smile. 'I like it. It's got a nice atmosphere— friendly. And I could hate you for the study, it's gorgeous!'
Nick's grin widened. 'If you're very good and promise not to make a mess, I'll let you come and sit in it from time to time.'
'You're so kind. Am I supposed to be grateful?'
'Try honoured.'
She poked her tongue out at him and went back into the kitchen.
'Tea or coffee?' she asked, and he elbowed her out of the way.
'Coffee—and I'm making it.'
Just like old times, she thought, the teasing banter, the arguments over the coffee.
Except tonight, of course, wouldn't end as those nights had ended. Regret washed over her, and she pushed it aside.
'So where are the chocolate biscuits?' she asked with false cheer, and he gave a theatrical sigh and dug about in the bag, tossing a packet of plain chocolate digestives at her.
'You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you?' he asked, and she looked up from struggling with the packet and dredged up a grin.
'Not a chance. You're too much of a pig—and I seem to remember you always ate most of them.'
'I'm sure I didn't.'
'You did. You dunked them.'
Sally's heart ached with the memory. They'd always had chocolate biscuits with their coffee in the evening, and it had always been Nick's job to get them. It had become a nightly ritual, a prelude to their other nightly rituals, like showering together and then making long, slow love until they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Her smile wobbled, and she looked down, picking fruitlessly at the end of the packet.
'Here,' he said softly, and took it from her, finding the little red tab on the tear-strip and pulling it, opening the packet with ridiculous ease.
Their eyes met, and for an endless moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he put the biscuits down on the worktop beside her and went back to his coffee-making.
Her lungs unlocked and the breath eased out of her in a quiet sigh. So many memories—too many.
She never should have come here tonight.
CHAPTER FOUR
Nick stood in the middle of his empty study and sighed. He'd taken Sally home, and now he was back here alone, morosely drinking yet more coffee that he didn't need and which would doubtless keep him awake all night, and wondering how he was going to get through the next year or even longer working alongside her.
She just seemed so distant. Every time he got close to her she backed away. Every time he thought he'd made some progress, she put him down.
He couldn't blame her. Their relationship had left a lot of fall-out that she'd had to deal with alone, and it must have been unbelievably hard for her. He hadn't been able to think about anything but her and the baby since last night, and twenty-four hours later he was still coming to terms with a loss that was by definition remote, to say the least.
He couldn't understand why he was grieving for Amy, but he was. It was odd, and very unsettling. He looked around him one last time and headed for the spiral staircase. He was hungry, he was tired and he wanted to lie down somewhere comfortable and sleep for a week.
Not a chance—and tomorrow night he was on call and would have to sleep at the hospital, and the day after that his furniture was coming and he would have to start unpacking.
He went back to his temporary lodgings in the little motel just outside town and ate the take-away he'd picked up, while he listened to the television next door and the banging of doors up and down the corridor.
Much more of it and he'd go crazy, he thought. The sooner he was in his own house the better.
Nick looked tired again today, Sally thought as she went into the stores for more gauze and Steristrips. She wondered where he was staying until his furniture arrived. Funny, she'd assumed he would have rented somewhere for the duration of his time at the Audley, and the discovery that he'd bought a house just two miles away had thrown her a curve.
It implied some kind of long-term commitment to the area, but surely his post was only temporary? She did a quick mental calculation and realised this was probably his last rotation.
Which meant his next job would be a consultancy, wherever that turned out to be.
Here?
It was a possibility, she thought with a frisson of dread and excitement. In which case he'd be here for years.
Put him out of your mind, she told herself sternly. He's not your business any more. You don't need to think about him.
Right on cue he appeared in her line of sight and crooked a finger at her. So much for not thinking about him!
'I've got a problem,' he said in a low voice.
You and me both, she thought, only you're my problem. 'How can I help you?' she asked, plastering on a bright smile.
His mouth tipped. 'That's a leading question,' he murmured, then in response to her quelling look his smile turned wry and he glanced over his shoulder at the cubicle he'd just vacated. She could hear a child wailing and the sounds of a sobbing woman.
'I've got a toddler I need to examine. He's yelling loud enough to bring the house down, she's not much better and I need someone to hold him still so I can get a look at his ears without inflicting permanent damage. Want to volunteer?'
'Sure. What's wrong with him? Otitis media?'
'That's my guess, but until I Can get a look at his eardrums I can't be sure and he's not having any of it.'
She gave a little laugh. 'Sounds par for the course. Let's see what we can do.'
It took a minute or two, but eventually they managed to distract the toddler and reassure the mother. Then Sally had the baby on her lap with his head clamped firmly against her chest while Nick gently examined first one ear and then the other with the auriscope.
'OK. Give him back,' Nick mouthed. Well, in fact he might have said it, but Sally couldn't hear a thing for the screams of the protesting child.
Once back in his mother's arms, though, he settled to a steady wail and they could hear themselves think again.
'Well, as I thought, he's got a definite ear infection,' Nick told the worried mother. 'It's quite nasty, so I'm
going to put him on antibiotics and a decongestant for ten days, and you should give him paracetamol syrup every four hours to keep him comfortable. He'll soon be better, but if he doesn't improve just take him back to see his GP. I'll give you a letter for him.'
'There's no point. He refused to give him antibiotics for it. I've tried that. He says we should let nature take its course.'
A quick frown pleated Nick's brow. 'Was that recently?'
She shook her head. 'No. Last month. I thought he was better, but then it started again and I thought, I can't take him back to the GP, there's no point.'
'I think there probably is a point, if it's got worse,' Nick explained thoughtfully. 'If the ear infection is only slight, it can be better to let the body deal with it and just use pain relief to keep the child comfortable. However, if it gets bad enough to make the child really ill and distressed, you have to treat it or they can suffer permanent damage. Maybe when you saw your GP it wasn't severe enough to warrant it.'
She nodded a little doubtfully. 'I suppose you could be right. It is worse now. I thought he was just being callous.'
'I'm sure he wasn't.' He printed off the prescription, handed it to her with a note for the GP and sent her off to the pharmacy with her little chap in tow still wailing miserably.
'He really is unhappy, isn't he?' Sally said, listening to the wail retreating down the corridor. 'Was it bad?'
'Pretty bad. The right ear was grim, the left was a little red. My guess is he's had a cold and got bunged up with catarrh and it just hasn't cleared. I've suggested to the GP that he might need referring if it happens again, but there was no obvious heat or tenderness in the mastoid process, so I think it's localised and the antibiotics and decongestant should sort it. Right, what's next? I'm parched.'
'Coffee?' Sally suggested, promptly kicking herself for falling for his hint, and he grinned.
'Sounds good. Is there any made?'
'Not to your satisfaction,' she told him drily. 'I tell you what, you go and put the pot on to filter, I'll see you in there in a minute. I've just got a dressing to finish off and I'll be with you.'
Accidental Rendezvous Page 5
