The Secret in His Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  She’d stopped that train of thought right there, gone back to bed and tried to sleep, but it had been pointless and she’d got dressed and come downstairs shortly before six, let Saffy out again and made herself a cup of tea, taking it out onto the veranda and huddling up on the bench waiting for James to wake up.

  She’d agreed to come back down to Yoxburgh in two weeks, when Andy was due off on paternity leave, and all she had to do was go back to Angie’s house and pack her things and come back. She didn’t have much to pack. Most of her stuff was in store, flung there in haste after Joe died when she’d had to move out of the married quarters; she still had to go through it properly, but that task would keep until she had somewhere permanent.

  Somewhere for her and a baby?

  She pressed a hand to her chest and sucked in a breath, and Saffy got to her feet and came and put her nose against her arm, nuzzling her.

  ‘Oh, Saffy. I wonder where we’ll end up?’ she murmured, and then she heard sounds behind her and James appeared in a pair of jeans and bare feet, looking tousled and sleepy and more sexy than a man of forty-two had any right to look.

  Sheesh. She yanked her eyes away from his bare chest and swallowed hard.

  ‘Morning,’ she managed, and he grunted.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Please. Just a straight, normal coffee.’

  ‘That’s all you get at this time of day. It’s too early for party tricks.’

  He walked off again, going back into the house and leaving her on the veranda, and she let out the breath she’d been holding and stared up at the sky. Wow. How had she never noticed before?

  Because you were in love with Joe. Why would you notice another man? You had a husband who was more than man enough for you!

  But—James was every bit as much a man as Joe had been, in his own way, and anyway, she had noticed him, all those years ago when she’d first met him. She’d asked about him hopefully, and been told about Cathy. Not that anyone knew very much, just that his wife had died and he didn’t talk about it.

  Didn’t talk about anything except work, really, and didn’t date as far as anyone knew, but then one weekend she’d been out with friends and bumped into him in a bar, and he’d introduced her to Joe.

  And that was that. Joe with his wicked smile and irrepressible sense of humour had swept her off her feet, and she’d fallen hook, line and sinker. Now she was back to square one, noticing a man who still wasn’t interested, who was still shut down, closed off from life and love and anything apart from his work.

  A man she’d tried to talk into agreeing to something that he was obviously deeply reluctant about—

  ‘Hey, what’s up?’

  He set the coffee down on the table in front of her and she looked up at him, searching his eyes for the reticence that had been there last night, but there was none, just gentle concern, so she smiled at him and reached for her coffee, telling herself she was relieved that he’d pulled a shirt on.

  ‘Nothing,’ she lied. ‘I’m fine—just a bit tired. I didn’t sleep very well—it was too quiet and all I could hear was the sound of the sea.’

  ‘I can’t sleep without it now,’ he said wryly, dropping down beside her on the bench and fondling Saffy’s ears. ‘So, how was your night, Saffy? Find anything naughty to do in the cage?’

  ‘She was fine. I came down at three and let her out because I could hear her whining, but I think she just wanted reassurance.’

  ‘I heard you get up.’

  So he hadn’t slept, either. Wondering what he’d let himself in for?

  Nothing, she reminded herself. They were just going to work together, and the baby conversation—well, it was as if it had never happened. They’d just opened the door on the subject, that was all, and he’d shut it again.

  Only, maybe, it would never be the same again. Whatever happened now, that door had been opened, and she sensed that it would have changed something in the dynamic of their relationship.

  ‘Connie? I’m sorry I can’t help you.’

  How did he know what she was thinking? Could he read her mind? Or perhaps, like her, it was the only thing on his mind?

  She nodded, and he reached out a hand—a large, square hand with strong, blunt fingers—and laid it gently over her wrist.

  ‘Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, I’ll always be here for you,’ he said quietly. ‘I promised Joe I’d take care of you if anything happened to him, and I will, and if you decide to take the clinic route and have a baby, I’ll still be here, I’ll still support you in your decision even if I don’t agree with it. You won’t ever be alone. Just—please, don’t be hasty.’

  ‘Oh, James...’

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she put her coffee down and sucked in a shaky breath.

  He stared at her in dismay. Hell. Now he’d made her cry.

  ‘Hush, Connie, hush,’ he murmured, gathering her against his chest. ‘It’s OK. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Come on, now. It’s all right. It’ll be OK.’

  ‘Why are you so damn nice?’ she said unsteadily, swiping tears out of her eyes and wondering why his chest felt so good to rest her head against. She could stay there all day in his arms, resting her face against the soft cotton of his shirt, inhaling the scent of his body and listening to the steady thud of his heart while he held her. It had been such a long time since anyone had held her, and it had been him then, too, after Joe’s funeral.

  He’d held her for ages, letting her cry, crying with her, and nobody had held her since. Not really. She’d had the odd hug but nothing like this, this silent support that meant more than any words.

  But she couldn’t stay there all day, no matter how tempting, so she pulled herself together, swiped the tears away again and sat up.

  ‘So what about this breakfast then?’ she asked, her voice uneven, and he gave a soft laugh and leant back, his arm along the bench behind her.

  ‘Drink your coffee and let me have mine. I can’t function this early, I need a minute. And don’t talk. Just sit and relax and stop worrying. I can hear your mind from here.’

  Sound advice. She didn’t think it had a hope in hell of working, but she was wrong. The distant sound of the shingle sighing on the beach, the drone of bees in the honeysuckle, the whisper of the wind in the tall grass beyond the garden—all of it soothed her, taking away the tension and leaving her calm and relaxed.

  Or was that the touch of his hand on her back, the slow, gentle circling sweep of his thumb back and forth over her shoulder blade? She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall of the house, and felt something that had been coiled tight inside her for so long slowly give way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HE WATCHED HER sleep, his arm trapped behind her, unable to move in case he disturbed her.

  And he didn’t want to disturb her, because as long as she was sleeping he could watch her.

  Watch the slight fluttering of her eyelashes against her faintly flushed cheeks, still streaked with the dried remnants of her tears. Watch the soft rise and fall of her chest with every breath, and hear the gentle sigh of air as she exhaled through parted lips that were pink and moist and so damn kissable it was killing him.

  He looked away, unable to watch her any longer, unable to sit there with his arm around Joe’s wife and lust after her when she’d been entrusted to his care.

  And he’d actually agreed to let her come and live with him and locum in the department? He must have been mad. He’d have to sort the rota so that they worked opposing shifts—not that that would help much, but at least she was living in the cabin rather than the house. And that was essential because if he didn’t keep his distance, he wasn’t sure he could keep these deeply inappropriate feelings under wraps.

  And he needed to start now.

&nb
sp; He shifted his hand a fraction, turning his thumb out to take it off her shoulder blade, and she rolled her head towards him, those smoky blue eyes clear and unglazed.

  She hadn’t been asleep at all, apparently, just resting her eyes, but now they were open and she smiled at him.

  ‘Can I speak yet?’ she asked cheekily, her mouth twitching, and he laughed and pulled his arm out from behind her, shifting slightly away to give himself some much-needed space.

  ‘If you can manage not to say anything contentious.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  That taunting smile playing around her mouth, she sat up straighter, moving away from him a little more, and he had to remind himself that that was good.

  ‘I was going to say, if I’m going to be working with you here, it might be an idea if I knew what I was signing up for.’

  He nodded, knowing exactly what kind of exquisite torture he was signing up for, but the exit door on that had slammed firmly shut already so analysing why he’d done it was purely academic. He was already committed to the emotional chaos and physical torment that was bound to come his way with having her underfoot day in, day out. He must have been mad to suggest it.

  ‘Sure. Want a guided tour of the hospital?’

  ‘That would be good. Can we have breakfast first? I’m starving.’

  He gave a soft huff of laughter and stood up, taking the empty coffee cup from her and walking back inside, and she watched him go and let out an almost silent groan.

  How could she be so aware of him? OK, it had been a while, but—James? Really? Not that there was anything wrong with him, far from it, but there was more than good looks and raw sex appeal in this. There was his relationship with Joe—her relationship with Joe—and she knew for him that would be a massive issue.

  And Joe had made him promise to take care of her? Trust him. Trust Joe to pile that kind of responsibility on his friend, but she reckoned he would have become her self-appointed guardian anyway regardless of what Joe might have said, because he was just like that, so she’d just have to learn to live with it and make very, very sure he got no hint of her feelings.

  Not that she knew what they were, exactly.

  A flicker of interest?

  OK, more than a flicker, then, a lot more, but of what? Lust?

  No. More than that. More than a flicker, of more than lust. And that was deeply scary. This situation was complicated enough without this crazy magnetic attraction rearing its head.

  She got to her feet and stuck her head round the kitchen door. ‘Want a hand?’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  ‘Right. I’ll take Saffy for a quick run. Ten minutes?’

  ‘Barely. Don’t be longer.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  She shoved her feet into her abandoned trainers, put Saffy’s lead on and escaped from the confines of James’s garden. She ran along the river wall this time, retracing their footsteps of the day before beside the remains of the old rotting hulks, their ribs sticking up like skeletons out of the mud of the little natural inlets in the marshy river bank.

  The smell was amazing—salt and mud and fish, all mingled together in that incredible mix that reminded her of holidays in Cornish fishing villages and sailing in the Solent in her childhood.

  Wonderful, evocative smells that brought back so many happy memories. And the sounds—amazing sounds. The clink of halliards, the slap of wavelets on the undersides of the moored boats, the squeak of oars in rowlocks, the putter of an outboard engine.

  And the gulls. Always the gulls, wheeling overhead, keening their sad, mournful cry.

  The sunlight was dancing on the water, and the tide had just turned, the boats swinging round so they faced downriver as the water began surging up the estuary with the rising tide. She stood and watched for a moment as the last of the boats swung round and settled on their moorings.

  Just twelve hours, she thought, since they’d watched this happen together. Twelve hours ago, she’d had no idea of what her future held, just a flat no to her request for a baby and a massive question mark hanging over her next job, next home, all of it. Yet in the past twelve hours all that had become clearer, her immediate future settled and secure if not in the way she’d hoped.

  Unless he changed his mind? Unlikely, but just in case, she’d make sure she kept a lid on her feelings and kept them to herself, and then maybe...

  She glanced at her watch, and yelped. She was going to be late for breakfast, and he’d told her not to be longer than ten minutes. She had three to get back, and she made it with seconds to spare.

  He was propped up in the doorway, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle, and his lips twitched.

  ‘Close,’ he said, glancing at his watch, and she smiled, hands propped on her knees, her breath sawing in and out.

  ‘Sorry. I was watching the tide turn. I could watch it all day.’

  ‘Well, four times, anyway. Scrambled or fried?’

  She straightened up, chest heaving, and grinned, oblivious of the effect she was having on him. ‘Scrambled.’

  Like his brains, he thought desperately, watching her chest rise and fall, the wild tangle of blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, the faint sheen of moisture gilding her glowing skin—

  ‘Can I do anything?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said blandly. ‘Get the dog out of the kitchen. She’s eyeing up the sausages.’

  They left, and he braced his hands on the worktop, breathed in and counted to ten, then let the air out of his lungs on a whoosh and turned his attention to the eggs.

  Working with her, all day, every day, and having her here at home? For months?

  It was going to kill him.

  * * *

  ‘This is such an amazing building.’

  ‘Isn’t it? It’s all a front, of course, all this beauty, and it hid a hideous truth. Apparently it used to be the pauper lunatic asylum.’

  ‘How frightfully politically correct.’

  He grinned wryly. ‘Not my words. That’s the Victorians for you. Actually it was a workhouse taking advantage of the inmates, and I’d like to be able to say it’s moved on, but in the last few months I’ve wondered.’

  ‘Ah, poor baby. That’ll teach you to be clinical lead.’

  He rolled his eyes and punched her arm lightly. ‘Do you want this job or not?’

  ‘Is this a formal interview?’

  He laughed. ‘Hardly. Any qualified doctor with a pulse would get my vote at the moment. The fact that you’ve got all the necessary and appropriate qualifications and outstanding experience to back them up is just the cherry on top. Trust me, the job’s yours.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m flattered.’

  ‘Be flattered. I’m fussy who I work with. That’s why there isn’t anyone. We’re round here in the new wing.’

  He drove round the corner of the old building and pulled up in a marked parking bay close to the ED, and her eyes widened.

  ‘Wow. That’s a bit sharper. I did wonder if we’d be working by gas light.’

  ‘Hardly,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘We’re very proud of it—of the whole hospital. It was necessary. People living on the coast were having to travel long distances for emergency treatment, and they were dying—back to your platinum ten minutes, I guess. We can treat them much quicker here, and if we have to we can then refer them on once they’re stable. That said we can do most stuff here, but it’s not like Camp Bastion.’

  ‘Hopefully it doesn’t need to be,’ she said quietly, and he glanced down and saw a flicker of something wounded and vulnerable in her eyes and could have kicked himself.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag it all up.’

  ‘It’s OK, it’s never far away.’ She gave him a too bright and very fleeting smi
le. ‘So, talk me round your department, Mr Clinic Lead Slater.’

  He took her in via Reception so she could see the triage area where the walking wounded were graded according to severity, and then went through into the back, to the row of cubicles where the ambulance cases were brought directly.

  ‘We’ve got four high dependency beds where we can keep people under constant observation, and we can accommodate three patients in Resus at any time. It’s not often idle.’

  They stood at the doors of Resus and watched a team working on a patient. It looked calm and measured. A man looked up and smiled at James through the glass, waggling his fingers, and he waved back and turned to her. ‘That’s Andy. He’s been damn lucky. He had an awake craniotomy and had to talk through it to make sure his speech centre wasn’t damaged when they removed the meningioma, but the post-op swelling gave him aphasia. He lost his speech—nothing else. He could understand everything, all the words were on the tip of his tongue, he just couldn’t find them, but of course he couldn’t work until he got his speech back, and he was tearing his hair out for weeks.’ He grinned wryly. ‘So was I, because there was no guarantee he ever would recover completely.’

  ‘You still are, aren’t you? Tearing your hair out, trying to replace half of him?’

  He shrugged. ‘Pretty much. It’s a bit frustrating trying to get anyone decent all the way out here, but he’s brilliant and getting anyone as good as him is just not possible on a part-time contract. And no,’ he said with a smile, holding a finger up to silence her, ‘before you say it, that’s not a criticism of you, because I know you’ve got bigger fish to fry and you aren’t here for the long haul. I wish to God you were. You’d solve all my problems at a stroke.’

  Well, not quite all. Not the one of having enough distance between them so that he wasn’t being constantly reminded of just how damned lovely she was and how very, very inaccessible.

  Not to mention asking the impossible of him...

  The door to Resus opened and Andy came out, his smile a little strained. ‘Hi. Did you get my text?’

  ‘Your text?’ he said, getting a bad feeling.