She went back to her patient, apologised for keeping him waiting and closed the wound in his forehead with the Steristrips, pulling the edges together neatly.
'There. Even your own mother wouldn't notice that after a few weeks,' she said in satisfaction, and grinned at him. 'Right, keep it dry, come back if you get any problems and you can take the strips off in a week if all goes well. And take it easy on the patio in future. No more falling over the geraniums!'
'Stone cold sober, as well,' he said with a wry grin. 'Ah, well. Thank you, Sister.'
'My pleasure. Mind how you go.'
She checked her watch. Almost eleven-thirty, and she'd been on since seven. More than time for a break, she thought, and sighed. She had a choice. Find something else to do and die of thirst, or go into the staffroom and expose herself to more of Nick's potent charm.
The thought of his coffee pushed her over the edge and, shaking her head slowly at her own weakness, she took a deep breath and surrendered to temptation.
Nick was there, of course, lolling against the worktop chatting up one of her new nurses. The girl snapped to attention, put her mug down and left promptly, her guilty conscience showing a mile wide.
Sally didn't suffer a single twinge. She'd been wondering where the girl was for some time. Obviously she'd have to watch her—her attitude to breaks was apparently a little flexible.
'Coffee smells good,' she said brightly, and Nick chuckled.
He turned to her with a smile and held out a mug, gently steaming with fresh, fragrant coffee. 'Perfect timing,' he said, and his fingers brushed hers, sending heat shooting up her arm.
She nearly slopped the coffee. 'Thanks,' she murmured, and took the lid off the biscuit tin and sighed in disgust.
'Empty again,' she muttered. 'There's never a single biscuit by the time I get here.'
'Fancy one of these?' he asked, proffering an open packet of buttery oat biscuits. Her favourite sort.
She took one and bit into it with a groan of contentment. 'I love these,' she mumbled round the crumbs.
'I know. I remember.'
Her eyes flew up and clashed with his, and their gazes locked. Her heart lodged in her throat, hammering against her ribs and jamming the breath in her lungs. Was there nothing he didn't remember?
'I remember all sorts of things about you.' As if he could read her mind, he went on softly, his voice a caress, 'I remember your favourite shampoo, and the way you used to steal the quilt in the night and leave your slippers in the middle of the floor for me to fall over in the dark. I remember that you don't like broccoli and put tons of garlic in your spaghetti sauce, and you can't read while I'm driving because it makes you feel sick.'
She hardened herself against the soft, lyrical voice that was lulling her so dangerously. 'Do you also remember that I've managed without you for seven years, and that you didn't ring me when I needed you?' she retorted.
'You know damn well I didn't get the message,' he said tightly, and turned away, gripping the edge of the worktop. 'I tried, Sally—believe me, I tried. There was nothing else I could do. By the time I'd got the message, you'd just disappeared.'
'Morning, boys and girls! Is that your coffee, Nick? Smells good.'
'Morning, Ryan,' Sally said mechanically, and put her mug down on the worktop and headed for the door. 'Excuse me, both of you, but I have rather a lot to do.'
She fled from the staffroom and Nick's presence. It was more than she could cope with at the moment. He was more than she could cope with, and absolutely the last thing she needed to undermine her resolve was a trip down memory lane with him.
She focused her mind on the job by finding the junior nurse with the defective timekeeping and giving her a hard time about pulling her weight and not skiving off on unscheduled breaks. Then she softened the blow by taking her for a training session in suturing, when an elderly man came in with a neat slice in his leg from a sheet of broken glass.
'Right, it's a lovely clean cut, so I think, if Mr Brady doesn't mind, you can have a go,' she said after the initial instruction and the first couple of stitches.
'Not at all. I'm quite happy,' he said with a grin. 'Two beautiful women fussing over my half-naked body—it's enough to give me fantasies!'
'Just so long as it doesn't give you a heart attack,' Sally said with a teasing smile, and Mr Brady chuckled.
'I think I'm made of sterner stuff than that. You go ahead, my dears, I'll just lie here and enjoy the view.'
'A man of excellent taste.'
Sally looked up at the deep murmur and her eyes clashed with Nick's. 'There's a nasty fracture in the next cubicle waiting for you,' she said a little sharply, and turned her attention back to Sophie's stitching.
Mr Brady chuckled. 'Don't tell me, that's sexual harassment,' he said with a smile. 'How times change. I can remember the days when it was politically incorrect not to compliment your colleagues on their pretty looks.'
'What, even the male ones?' Sally teased, and he laughed and took her hand.
'You're a rum 'un,' he said with a twinkle. 'I reckon you'll make some lucky man a fine wife—or maybe you already have. Whatever, he's a lucky chap, whether he knows it yet or not.'
'Maybe I've got more sense,' Sally replied softly, easing her hand away. 'That's lovely, Sophie. Perfect. Not too tight—that's better. Well done. OK, Mr Brady, we'll just dress that for you and you can go home. Stitches out in ten days if it looks well. You can have it done at your GP's, or come back to see us and we'll do it, or come sooner if they're sore or you have any problems. OK? And don't try to do too much—rest it up on a stool for part of the day, at least for the first few days.'
She sent him off with a note for his GP, and then she and Sophie cleared up the trolley and readied the cubicle for the next patient.
While they were doing it Sophie tipped her head on one side and gave Sally a searching look.
'Sister, don't you mind when they come on to you like that?' she said quietly.
'Are you talking about Mr Brady? I'd hardly call that coming on to me, Sophie. He was a charming man. You wait until you're on duty on Friday or Saturday night when the drunks get brought in by the police and they spend the entire time trying to get their hands up your skirt. Then tell me Mr Brady's a problem,' she advised drily.
Sophie's eyes widened. 'They do that?'
'They do all sorts. You learn to deal with it. You just keep as much distance as you can, stay polite if possible and call for help if you need to,' she said, patting the last pile of forms into order. 'Right, let's go and get on. With any luck it will be a young mother. They're usually pretty safe!'
'What are you doing for supper?'
Sally stiffened, refusing to jump like a startled rabbit yet again, and resolutely turned to face Nick.
'Nothing. Going home and examining the contents of my fridge,' she said firmly.
'Because I'm on call tonight and I've got to stay here, and I'm sick of eating alone.'
'So go and chat up one of the other nurses. I'm sure you'll find someone to fall for your charm and share some disgusting instant noodles in your room.'
He smiled a little crookedly. 'Maybe I don't want someone. Maybe I want you.'
'And maybe I don't want you,' she said crisply, hoping the lie didn't show in her eyes.
It didn't faze him at all. 'You could take pity on me,' he wheedled. 'I'll treat you. There's a little Italian round the corner, I've heard.'
He knew her too well. She could feel herself weakening and tried to drag some common sense into the argument. 'You won't get through the starter without your bleep going,' she warned.
'I'll risk it. Go on, Sally, force yourself. You never know, you might enjoy it.'
Sally hesitated, just long enough for him to see the chink in her armour and press his advantage.
'Just friends, Sal,' he coaxed, and he looked serious for a second. 'We have to work together. Surely we can manage that?'
She felt the fight go out of her, an
d gave him a wry smile. 'Just friends?'
That crooked grin which only a fool would have trusted played across his face. 'Absolutely. What time do you finish today?'
'Right now. I'm already late, as usual—and I'm going home to put on the washing machine and change into something that doesn't smell of hospitals. What time do you want me back here?'
He shrugged. 'Seven? Eight? I don't know. Whenever it's quiet.'
She snorted softly and shook her head. 'It's never quiet. You might do better to go to the canteen and find something there.'
'I'll risk it.' Nick reached up and touched the tip of her nose with his finger. 'I'll book a table for seven-thirty, shall I?'
'That's asking for trouble.'
'Very likely. I'll see you here at seven-fifteen.'
'All right,' she agreed, a little shiver of anticipation warring with her common sense. '
She drove home to her little house, stripped off her clothes and threw them into the washing machine and then soaked in the bath.
It was bliss—or it would have been if she hadn't felt so edgy. Going to look at his house had felt like a date. What on earth would this feel like—and why on earth was she doing it?
Sally dressed carefully—much more carefully than the casual trousers and top deserved—and put on a lick of make-up. Not much, she never wore much, but just a touch. Something to hide behind.
It was nearly seven. She checked herself in the mirror, closed her eyes at her silliness and went out into the warm and pleasant evening. It was lovely, still light for hours yet, and she wondered why on earth she was going to sit with Nick in a stuffy restaurant and torture herself when she could be taking a stroll by the river or working on her slightly neglected garden.
Needless to say, Nick was busy, tied up with a patient Toby couldn't cope with alone. She waited in the staffroom, sipping old coffee, until he appeared at a quarter to eight.
'Sorry,' he said with a wry smile. 'You were right, of course. Shall we go?'
'Will we get away with it?'
His snort of laughter said it all. He took his wallet out of his locker and stuck it in his pocket, hung up his coat and pulled off his tie. 'Right, let's sneak out before this damn thing goes off,' he said, sliding his pager into his other pocket.
They drove, simply so that he could get back to the hospital quickly, and managed to park outside the little restaurant.
'Inside or out, sir?' the waiter asked, and Nick raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
'Out,' she said firmly. 'It's a lovely evening. It seems a shame to waste it.'
They had the last remaining table in the garden. It was getting cooler now and the sun would soon slide behind the houses, but for now the slanting rays bathed them in a gentle, golden light. The waiter offered them menus, but Nick didn't bother to look. 'I think we need something fairly quick, if you could,' he said with a persuasive smile. 'I might need to get back to the hospital if I'm paged.'
'No problem, sir. I could get you the house special in two minutes—tagliatelle carbonara?'
He looked at Sally, and she nodded. 'Lovely,' she said, her stomach gurgling slightly in appreciation, and she laid a hand over it and laughed. 'Sorry. I'm hungry.'
'Good.' He looked up at the waiter. 'That will be fine, thanks.'
'Garlic bread for you?'
His mouth kicked up and he caught her eye and smiled. 'Please.'
'And can I bring you the wine list?' the waiter asked, but Nick shook his head.
'I'm working, she's driving. Just iced water, please.'
'Very good, sir.'
He faded away, and left them. It was odd, Sally thought, how they could have been alone, even surrounded as they were by the crowd of laughing people at the other tables.
An awkward silence descended over them, and he smiled crookedly.
'I've missed you,' he said, and she felt her heart kick.
'Just friends, you said,' she reminded him, and his mouth quirked.
'I can miss my friends, can't I? Besides, you wouldn't want me to lie to you.'
'You'll have me believe you've been pining for me next,' she said drily, and a fleeting shadow crossed his face.
'Funny you should say that,' he said lightly, and sat back as the waiter put down their plates and left them again.
She didn't know how to answer him, so she picked up her fork and twirled it in the tagliatelle. Had he pined for her? Hardly, she thought. He was much too attractive to have been left alone, and only a fool or a saint could have failed to take advantage of some of those opportunities. In fact, she was surprised he hadn't been snared by some pretty young thing with buckets of sex appeal and too much sense to demand commitment.
'I would have thought you'd be married by now,' he said casually—too casually. She looked up and met his eyes, but they were carefully neutral.
'No,' she said. She didn't elaborate. There was no need. Nick had just reminded her of all the good reasons why she shouldn't be here with him—like the fact that he'd trashed the last seven years of her life and left her in an emotional wasteland.
'I nearly got married,' he said quietly, stopping her in her tracks, and she was astonished at the twist of pain she felt inside.
'Nearly?' she asked carefully.
'Yes—about three years ago. We were just jogging along, as you do, and it seemed like the next logical step. When she started talking about wedding plans, I realised it was a mistake.'
'Too much like commitment?' she said, a leaden feeling inside her that she couldn't understand. Had she hoped he'd changed? Not a chance. Leopards didn't change their spots, no matter how much you might want them to...
'Something like that,' he said lightly, but his eyes were giving nothing away as usual.
Oh, damn. Sally twirled pasta, munched garlic bread and wondered why the sun seemed to have gone in.
You're such a fool, she chastised herself. All that time you should have been getting over him, and you're just as weak-willed and defenceless against him as you ever were.
Because I still love him.
Idiot. Of course you don't. He's a disaster for you.
His bleep was almost a relief. He pulled it out of his pocket, stifled it quickly and read the message on the little screen.
'RTA coming in—just for a change. I need to get back.'
'I knew it,' she told him, struggling for a smile. 'You never get to finish a meal when you're on call in this place. A cup of coffee's hard to fit in without interruptions.'
'I had noticed.' He hailed the ^waiter, asked for the bill and looked apologetically at her. 'You stay and finish. I'll try and join you for coffee.'
'Get real,' she told him, and pushed away her plate. She wasn't hungry any more anyway. 'I'll come back with you—save me walking. I've been on my feet all day already.'
He paid the bill and they left, arriving back at the hospital as a fleet of ambulances started to pull up.
'Uh-oh,' Sally said under her breath. 'Looks like a lulu. Want a hand?'
'Try half a dozen,' he said, his mouth tight, then turned to her and gave her a little half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'We can manage if you want to get home.'
'I was thinking of the patients,' she told him, and followed him through the doors. 'I'll put scrubs on and see you in Resus.'
'You're a star,' he murmured, and followed her. 'Scrubs seem like a good idea.'
He stood beside her in the changing room and tugged off his shirt and trousers, standing next to her in nothing more than a pair of skimpy briefs and making her mouth go dry.
He'd bulked up, she realised, grown more solid over the years. Solid muscle, flexing under the smooth skin as he tugged on blue theatre pyjamas.
He shot her a glance and paused, balanced on one leg like a stork, half in and half out of the trousers. 'It's all yours,' he said softly under his breath. 'Just say the word.'
Released from her trance, she turned away and pulled off her blouse, dragging the top on over her head. '
In your dreams,' she muttered, but he'd gone, the door swishing softly shut behind him.
She sagged against the front of the lockers and sighed. Just friends, indeed! Not in this lifetime.
Anyway, there was no way she was going to let him tempt her into yet another transient affair. He'd just admitted to another failed relationship, another commitment he hadn't been able to make. She might be many things, but she wasn't a complete fool.
Just a little bit.
Like ninety-nine per cent.
With a disgusted snort at her weakness, she finished changing and headed for Resus.
It was a truly horrendous night. They fought to save the lives of three people—and twice, they lost. One man died of very serious head injuries soon after arrival, the other, a woman in her twenties, began to bleed internally on the way in and they couldn't transfuse her fast enough to get her stable.
They had three lines in, they were squeezing the bags of blood in flat out, but it still wasn't enough and a little after ten-thirty, she slipped away from them.
Nick ripped off his gloves, threw them in the bin in disgust and stalked out, slapping the door out of his way with the flat of his hand and striding down the corridor with a face like thunder.
Toby, still holding a bag of blood, looked after him warily.
'He's just angry with himself because we lost her,' Sally said gently, and took the bag out of Toby's hand. 'He'll be all right. He'll calm down in a minute.'
'I thought it was you that was supposed to have the temper?' Toby muttered under his breath, but she heard him and smiled.
'Oh, I have, too.'
'Dangerous place, then,' he said with a quick grin, and looked down at their patient, his smile fading. 'It seems such a waste.'
'I know.'
'Her parents are outside, apparently,' Meg, the staff nurse told them. 'Do you want me to clean her up? Take all the stuff off?'
Sally shook her head. 'No, it's all right, Meg. I'll do it. Someone needs to tell them. It really ought to be Nick.'
'Should I find him?' Toby asked, looking a little reluctant.
'He'll come back. He knows what he's got to do.' She stripped out all the IV lines and took out the tube in the young woman's throat, her hands as gentle as if her patient were still alive.
Accidental Rendezvous Page 6
