The Doctor's Destiny

by Meredith Webber

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she grouched, ‘but you could just as easily have asked Gabi and Alex if you wanted to dilute your mix of guests. Or Kirsten and Josh. Or Daisy.’

  ‘I did ask Daisy and she’s working,’ Jason said, and both Rory and Alana turned to look at him.

  But neither asked the question, though Alana guessed Rory was just as anxious to ask it as she was.

  The ‘when did you see Daisy and why’ question. Questions, really.

  ‘I just saw her in the lift.’ Jason’s explanation came without the questions being asked. ‘I figured with a couple of women already fighting over the Dungeon Master, one more would make it interesting.’

  He shot a cheeky look at his uncle, and ducked out of the way of Rory’s cuffing right hand. Then he caught his uncle’s arm and held it, and Alana, sensing another wrestling match was about to begin, held up her hands.

  ‘Out!’ she said. ‘No fooling around in my flat.’

  They stopped. And though Rory began to follow Jason out, he turned and winked at Alana.

  ‘Spoilsport!’ he whispered, and she knew he was thinking of a very different kind of ‘fooling around’.

  Finally alone, Alana sank down into an armchair and tried to work out exactly what had been happening these last…She checked her watch. Heavens, had it only been two hours since Jason had come down to ask to stay?

  It was five-thirty now, and she’d started on the living room a little after three, which made it just over two hours.

  For her life to change?

  But it hadn’t changed, she reminded herself. Rory Forrester might have kissed her and confessed the attraction she now knew was mutual, but that didn’t change her status as Jason’s friend, or alter Daisy’s perception of how any shift in that status could affect the young lad.

  Who’d already suffered a major loss…

  So why, when nothing could come of it, did knowing Rory was attracted to her make her feel light-headed, and her body, even thinking about that attraction, sizzle with the slow burn of desire?

  Nothing will come of it.

  Nothing can come of it.

  Could they have a secret affair?

  Alana sank her head into her hands while she argued with the bit of brain that didn’t seem to be listening to all the other parts. To the ones making the ‘nothing’ statements.

  Of course there would be no secret affair.

  Actually, the mere thought of a ‘secret’ affair in the Near West building was enough to make another bit of brain tissue positively crackle with laughter.

  But in spite of all these mental remonstrations, a warmth remained, while a devilish delight bubbled up as she considered the opportunity to observe the machinations of the two women vying for Rory’s attention. Maybe dining with them would be fun.

  And an excuse to see more of him, even if it was a case of look but don’t touch…

  CHAPTER NINE

  RORY pushed open the door into the stairwell, intending to return to the flat and do something about starting the evening meal. The longer a curry cooked the better it tasted, and the time for taste improvement was diminishing rapidly.

  But the thought of his uninvited guests made him hesitate, while the after-effects of kissing Alana still throbbed in his body, demanding physical release.

  If he jogged around the block a couple of times…

  Glanced down at his footwear—canvas loafers. Hardly jogging gear.

  Jason had gone back upstairs, which meant Alana was on her own.

  He could go back in and kiss her again.

  Sure! his mind derided. Like she’s just waiting inside the door for you to reappear?

  Like she hasn’t seen enough of the Forrester/McAllister household for one day?

  Though maybe she’d come tonight, and even if he couldn’t touch her, she’d still be there.

  And just the thought of seeing her in his flat made him wonder if his body had ever stirred when he’d thought about Rosemary.

  Back when they’d first been lovers?

  He shook his head, unable to believe he couldn’t remember.

  His indecision, which had kept him pinned on the second-floor landing of the stairs, was interrupted by a clumping noise that suggested either a herd of elephants had been released from the penthouse or Jason was coming down.

  ‘I came to look for you,’ Jason said. ‘Come on, it’s really creepy up there without you. Drusilla wants to chop up the meat for the curry and Rosemary says you hate anyone helping in the kitchen, but Drusilla’s got the cleaver, and any minute now we could be having curried Rosemary in with the lamb.’

  Rory laughed but, having felt the vice-like tension in the room whenever the two women were sparring, he knew why Jason needed support.

  ‘I never say no to someone else peeling and chopping the onions,’ he told Jason. ‘Let’s get the cleaver back from Drusilla and you can have that job. I’m sure curried finger of Jason will be tastier than skull of Rosemary.’

  Jason joined his laughter, and Rory felt a sudden fullness in his heart.

  The arrival of the two women had thrown him off track, and no doubt their presence in his house, and the resultant confusion in his mind, had made him seek relief by dwelling on what was probably nothing more than a passing attraction for his neighbour and colleague.

  But laughing with Jason had reminded him of what mattered most. His sister’s lad—his closest living relative—a boy who’d already suffered too much in his young life.

  In another few years, Jason’s life would have stabilised, and though he himself might not be a ‘spring chicken’—he’d have to speak to Miss Wright about that comment some time—it certainly wasn’t going to hurt him to put his personal life on hold while this happened.

  They walked into the flat together, where the sight of the two women in his kitchen tempted Rory to turn tail and run.

  ‘We could go to South America,’ Jason whispered, picking up on his uncle’s thought waves.

  ‘Not far enough,’ Rory whispered back, then he slung his arm around Jason’s shoulders and propelled him forward.

  ‘OK, women, out of the kitchen. That’s the men’s domain. Now, Jason, while I get everything out, why don’t you slip upstairs to see if the Grahams are doing anything tonight? If not, they might like to join us. I’ll do a vegetable curry as well, so there’ll be plenty of food.’

  He felt very pleased with himself as he delved into the refrigerator. If Alana did come, an extra two would dilute her presence somewhat, and if she didn’t…

  He didn’t want to think about if she didn’t, he decided, pulling the vegetable drawer right out so he could set it on the bench where he could stand upright to select what he needed.

  It turned into a party when Jason found Josh and Kirsten at the Grahams’ place, and with the open-handedness of youth invited them as well.

  ‘I was sure you hadn’t prepared for a full-scale invasion,’ Gabi said later, leading the influx with a hot casserole dish wrapped in a teatowel. ‘So I brought a kind of all-purpose vegetable dish I can put together in a matter of minutes.’

  ‘And I just happened to have a frozen pavlova in my fridge, so that’s my contribution,’ Kirsten told him, following Gabi into the flat with the boxed dessert and acknowledging the introductions Gabi made.

  Rory held the door, greeted the two male doctors who, waving bottles of wine, had followed their womenfolk, then, as no one else seemed to want to come in, closed it again.

  It wasn’t as if Alana had said she’d come, and if Daisy was right, and he felt instinctively that she probably was, then he certainly shouldn’t be seeing any more of Alana than was absolutely necessary.

  But as he watched Rosemary and Drusilla vie with each other for the hostess role he knew, even for Jason’s sake, he couldn’t marry either of them.

  Though maybe he could go through some form of marriage—a set-up, not the real thing—until after the court case. Or indicate an intention to marry one of t
hem soon. Would that work? His own solicitor might not approve of subterfuge, but he could ask Rosemary—which meant she’d know he intended doing it and would offer to be the pretend wife, then expect to be a real wife and he might just as well shoot himself right now…

  ‘Are you OK?’

  Josh asked the question, and Rory, after staring blankly at the man for a moment, nodded, then admitted grimly, ‘Probably not, but, then, whoever is?’

  Muttering things about food and kitchens, he walked away. He’d keep busy, pretend he was absolutely swamped by his hostly duties, and that way he wouldn’t think about losing Jason, or Alana not coming, or pretend marriages or any of the other guff currently slamming around in his head.

  He put plates out on the kitchen bench, added eating and serving utensils, clean glasses for the wine. What else? Napkins? Surely he had napkins. Jason had put away the groceries. He looked around for the boy, but couldn’t see him, then the door opened and he came in, and close behind him was a tall, slim, tanned woman wearing what looked like a second skin, so closely did the dress slink down her body. The blonde hair—not a rat’s-tail in sight—tumbled seductively around her shoulders, and he had a sudden image of it cascading down to brush his skin as he held her naked body on top of his own.

  He closed his eyes, hoping she might be a mirage, but when he opened them she was still there, greeting her friends, chatting to Drusilla, turning to speak to Jason, who immediately left her side and crossed towards the kitchen.

  ‘Alana cooked these,’ he said, setting a clingfilm-wrapped plate of poppadoms on the bench. ‘She said she’s sorry she didn’t have more to offer. You should give more notice, she said.’

  He glanced over towards her, and felt a fiery rush of desire so strong he wondered if a human body could self-combust.

  ‘She brought this, too. Should I put it in the fridge?’

  Jason’s voice prompted reminders of Daisy’s warning—used as an example according to Alana but still powerfully applicable to the situation.

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ Rory said. ‘And ask her if she’d like a glass of that particular wine or the one that’s already opened. You might take the bottle around and fill up any other glasses.’

  That way I won’t have to go near her, and have to fight the compulsion to touch the shining hair and skim my hands across the slinky dress.

  Would his guests think he’d gone mad if he let out a loud groan?

  Would taking Rosemary to bed—after all they’d been lovers right up until Alison had become ill—cure what ailed him?

  Probably not, although the resultant complications could mean Drusilla would kill him. Then with his uncle dead and his aunt in gaol, Jason would have no one but his shifty, unreliable father—

  ‘Can I give you a hand?’

  Rory was so lost in his useless stream of conjecture that the voice startled him, and he turned to see the smiling redhead from the flat opposite the Grahams’. Kirsten—engaged to paediatrician Josh Phillips—friend of Alana’s.

  ‘I’m just going to put all the dishes on the bench and let people help themselves,’ he told her. ‘I was going quite well, then stalled at the cutlery stage.’

  ‘Probably when Alana walked in,’ Kirsten said in a kindly tone. ‘I think all the men in the room stalled about then. Alex and Josh are so used to seeing her around the place in her uniform or gym clothes or tennis gear that they always do this open-mouth thing when she turns up dressed.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’ Rory asked, because personally, now this had been pointed out and he realised both men had gravitated to Alana, he’d have liked to have murdered both of them.

  Kirsten, however, was smiling happily.

  ‘I think I’d be more worried if Josh didn’t notice her. After all, she’s a very beautiful woman.’

  Rory looked across the room—and nodded.

  ‘She is that!’ he said abruptly, then turned away, fussing quite unnecessarily with the big pot of curry. ‘I think this is ready to serve. Shall we do it?’

  From the far side of the room, Alana watched him moving about his kitchen, looking more masculine than ever in what might be considered a woman’s domain.

  She shouldn’t have come, but Jason had tapped on her door—there to see if she was ready—and she hadn’t been able to disappoint him. Seeing her friends as soon as she walked in the door had helped her overcome her initial trepidation, and a glass of wine had eased a little of her inner tension.

  Two glasses of wine might be even better, but when Jason, circulating among the guests, tilted the bottle towards her, she shook her head. Two glasses might also unleash demons better kept on a very tight rein.

  Then Jason filled it anyway, and grinned at her.

  ‘If I fill it up for you then I can have a sip or two later,’ he said, then the smile faded as he added with his usual inbred politeness, ‘If that’s all right with you, of course.’

  Alana offered him a sip, which he took then grimaced.

  ‘I think I’ll stick to soft drink.’

  ‘Come and get it!’

  Kirsten called them to eat and in the shuffle that followed getting food and finding a seat, Alana ended up on a most uncomfortable couch, with Drusilla beside her.

  ‘It’ll be good for Jason to get back to school,’ Drusilla said, the remark so seemingly innocuous that Alana agreed.

  ‘Children his age need plenty to occupy their minds or they end up in trouble,’ the ‘child’s’ aunt continued, while Alana imagined Jason’s reaction to being called a child.

  ‘I told Rory that months ago. I wasn’t in agreement about him taking time off school when Alison was ill, and I still feel he’d have got through the whole business better if he’d been made to follow his usual routine.’

  Whole business? Was this woman talking about Jason’s mother’s death? Was that how she summed it up?

  Biting back an urge to argue, she let Drusilla talk, listening with growing disbelief to some of the most ridiculous child-rearing theories she’d ever heard, until finally she was compelled to say, ‘Jason is a teenager now. I don’t think toddler taming techniques work for them.’

  Drusilla fired a supercilious ‘what would you know’ look at Alana, who quickly ate the last bit of delicious curry and drained her wine. Then, knowing she was likely to explode if she had to listen to any more drivel, she stood up, saying, as politely as she could, ‘I’d better take this plate into the kitchen.’

  Where she found the host propped against the kitchen sink, surveying his visitors.

  ‘Look,’ she said, setting her plate down but keeping the wineglass and waving it towards him as she spoke. ‘I realise you might have to get married in order to keep Jason, but for heaven’s sake don’t marry the aunt. The woman’s got the weirdest ideas. Given even the slightest bit of control, she’d drive poor Jason batty in a week.’

  ‘And what about me?’ Rory asked, his blue eyes fixed on her face but totally unreadable.

  ‘What about you?’ Alana demanded crossly. Her body was cataloguing the man as if it didn’t understand it wasn’t allowed to be interested in him, and the catalogue points were having their usual effect on unreliable nerves and wayward flesh and rubberised bones.

  ‘Don’t I get some consideration in the marriage business?’

  Alana frowned at him.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘After all, you’d be doing it for Jason, not yourself, though, of course, you’d have to live with the person, and in an adult-to-adult relationship, Drusilla mightn’t be bad. I mean, I don’t know her at all, it’s just her child-rearing theories I’ve heard so far, which is why I’d worry about Jason.’

  The inscrutable mask remained in place, but the rest of his body just had to be communicating with hers, Alana decided. As he’d said himself, it was too strong to be one-sided.

  But it was no good being attracted to Rory Forrester…

  ‘Perhaps I’d better go and sit with her again. Find out her thoughts on h
ow a marriage should work.’

  ‘And if she asks what you think?’ Rory said quietly.

  Alana felt a feather-light shiver touch her spine and wondered if they were still talking about Drusilla.

  ‘I’d have to say I don’t have any set ideas,’ she said, while the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as if there were subtitles to everything they were saying. ‘Apart from a vague notion of a partnership. My grandparents have had what I guess you’d call a traditional marriage—Pop worked and Nana stayed home—but, just seeing them together, you realise they’re a team.’

  She smiled, and found herself relaxing, just thinking about the loving couple who’d been so much part of her life. In fact, she’d go and visit them tomorrow. That should shake all the strange fancies out of her head.

  ‘Special to you, are they?’ Rory murmured, and when Alana looked up at him the mask had dropped, and there was a warmth and understanding in his eyes that stopped her breath.

  ‘Hey, your glass is empty and I haven’t been drinking it so you must have. I’m going to open another bottle. I’ll pour you one.’

  Alana was so grateful for Jason’s interruption she could have hugged him, but, aware a public hug would be as welcome to a teenager as chickenpox, she resisted the urge.

  ‘I’ll pass on the wine. I’ve a long drive tomorrow, and don’t want a hangover for company.’

  Jason, of course, asked where she was going, so she explained about her grandparents and their small property two hours’ drive north of Westside.

  ‘Your grandparents have goats and llamas? You’re all animal-mad. I’ve never seen a llama—only in pictures or on TV—could I come?’

  Rory’s ‘It’s polite to be asked’ came at the same time as Alana assured Jason she’d love the company. They moved away together, talking about arrangements, Alana pleased to be able to escape the effects of being in close proximity to Rory.

  And genuinely happy at the thought of having Jason’s company the following day. Her grandparents loved the company of young people.

  The day cemented her friendship with Jason and reminded Alana of the solid foundations her mother’s and grandparents’ love had built into her own life.