‘At this point I want to thank you all. Thank you for parting with your money, for donating your time by being here tonight. Thank the hospitals that provide scarce bed space for these overseas children, the accountants who factor it into their budgets, the nurses who care for them, the surgeons whose skills transform these children and the airlines that fly them here. But as we sit here feeling pretty pleased with ourselves I ask that we don’t get too comfortable. That we remember this is just the tip of the iceberg.’
He flicked a button in his hand and a brown-eyed girl stared back, smiling shyly at the camera. ‘Those of you who attended last year will remember me talking about Kimbi, the little girl who fell into a fire and whose lips and eyes were fused closed.’ A far less appealing picture replaced the picture and Rachael felt the colour drain from her face. The features were almost unrecognisable from the girl before. ‘Today, thanks to the generosity of people like yourselves, those eyes are open. Those lips, which could only manage the tiniest sips of rice water, now talk and laugh and share in happy meals with her family. Of course she has scars—this little girl has undergone twelve operations after all—but I think it’s fair to say that she’s pretty much unrecognisable from the little girl we spoke about last year. If you notice my voice soften when I talk about Kimbi, I make no apology—she has a special place in everyone’s heart.’
His green eyes worked the room and there was a tiny pause as he took a sip of water.
‘Kimbi is coming back on Monday for what I hope will be her final operation. The last time I spoke to her, with the help of her translator, Kimbi told me that she wanted to be a doctor.’ Hugh shuffled his notes and looked up again. ‘I don’t have any children, and my speciality certainly isn’t child psychology, but I’m pretty sure that when most ten-year-olds say they want to be doctor, it’s a rather empty statement. But not Kimbi. If any little girl is going to make something of her life, I’m sure it will be her, and who knows what she might go on to achieve? How the seed we’ve sown by giving her this chance might somehow reap rewards far greater than we first dared to dream.’
His voice was louder suddenly, forcing those that were reaching for a drink, starting to murmur amongst themselves, to turn their attention back to the speaker.
‘It would be so easy to leave it there, to pat ourselves on the back and order another bottle of red, but it doesn’t just end there. There are no fire-guards in the remote villages of Papua New Guinea, no central heating or microwave ovens. These horrific injuries are commonplace. Children are children, they play near the fires, they fall and then they burn.’ His expressive eyes worked the room. ‘They burn,’ he said again more quietly. ‘And it’s up to us to take it from there.’
The applause was deafening, and as Hugh sat down modestly it was Rachael who clapped the loudest, her palms red by the time Hugh put a hand on her arm to stop her.
‘You were wonderful.’ Her eyes were shining with admiration. ‘Hugh, I just never realised …’
‘It’s no big deal.’ He shrugged, a tiny blush spreading over his face as Rachael begged to differ.
‘It’s a huge deal! I feel awful.’ She gave him a playful thump. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me bang on about narcissistic tendencies when all time you were doing this type of work?’
‘I was waiting for the right moment.’ He smiled, a devilish smile that made her insides melt. The hot breath of his whisper tickled her ears, sending a million tiny volts through her system. ‘Aiming for maximum impact! Anyway, I love a woman on a guilt trip.’
Rachael sat through the rest of the speeches, achingly aware of Hugh next to her, hugging the knowledge of their talk yet to come like a secret treasure to be opened later. Tonight she had learned so much about him. That he was good-looking and talented were common knowledge, but the depth of his compassion, the way those skills were utilised—for Rachael it was nothing short of a revelation.
‘Dance?’
She could have blamed it on the champagne, blamed it on her impossibly high heels—the fact her knees seemed so impossibly weak and her legs so horrendously unsteady as she crossed the room—but it left Rachael with no choice but to melt into his body, to let him guide her to the music. To feel him strong and lean beneath her trembling fingers as he held her close.
‘Your speech was marvellous,’ she said approvingly.
‘They all went well.’
‘Yours was definitely the best,’ she said proudly. ‘I think you were easily the most persuasive.’
‘And I think you’ve had too much champagne.’
‘Am I embarrassing you?’ she asked, quickly pulling away, but he just laughed and pulled her closer.
‘You never embarrass me. But your bias and sudden admiration has to be put down to something. I’m guessing it’s the champagne.’
‘Maybe a bit,’ she agreed. ‘And if I am a bit tipsy then I’m allowed to ask silly questions.’
‘Ask away.’
‘Why don’t you fancy me?’ She felt him stiffen. Suddenly they weren’t moving any more, just standing in the middle of the dance floor.
‘Rachael.’ That authoritative note was back, that warning tone that said not to push things, but Rachael was past caring, past heeding the warning bells. She adored him, wanted him, needed him and, right here, right now, Rachael wanted to know where she had gone so wrong.
‘Why do you want to just be friends?’ The longest silence followed, apart from the band, of course, apart from five hundred people milling about in a ballroom, but as she held her breath, awaiting his answer, the night was just about the two of them.
‘I don’t.’
She heard the slight waver in his voice as he imparted those delicious words and it was all the encouragement she needed, gave her enough ammunition to fire for the skies.
‘So why haven’t you ever kissed me?’
‘I thought I was doing the right thing …’
‘By not kissing me?’ Her eyes dragged up to his, holding his gaze, utterly refusing to let it be. ‘Didn’t you want to?’
‘Rachael,’ he said again, a note of exasperation in his voice. ‘You know I wanted to.’
She shook her head and only her eyes stayed still, one lock of hair escaping the carefully slicked chignon. His hand reached up, smoothing the tendril behind her ear, tracing the elegant line of her neck.
‘Then why didn’t you?
‘Why—?’ She never got to finish.
His mouth was on hers then, she felt the slight roughness of his chin. An eleven p.m. shadow, Rachael thought as she felt his heavy mouth, his cool tongue that tasted of champagne moving slowly, languorously. His kiss, his touch was everything she had dreamt of, everything she had desired, and there wasn’t even a notion of hesitancy, even a glimmer of doubt as she kissed him back. And when he’d finished kissing her, when any longer with their lips entwined would have bordering on indecency, he pulled reluctantly away, staring down at her flushed, radiant face, a slow smile on his newly kissed lips.
‘Better now?’
She nodded, his kiss her answer.
‘It’s heavenly here.’ With a sigh she leant against him. She loved the smell of him, loved the fact he used too much aftershave. Hugh Connell was too much, much too much to be close to and not be moved. He was excessive, dangerous and tonight …
He was hers.
‘You should see the rooms.’ His arms were wrapped around her and her body reacted to his touch. Her nipples, jutting through the silk fabric of her dress, were almost painful. But it hadn’t been an invitation and Rachael had to bite on her lip to stop a provocative reply as he carried on talking. ‘I went to have a shower, nothing dangerous in that, or so I thought. I nearly took my eye out.’ She gave a gurgle of laughter as he continued, ‘The jets come from all sides.’
‘I’d love to see them.’
It was Hugh that pulled back then, his eyes burning into hers, the tiniest hint of a teasing question in them.
She felt brave, he made her
feel brave. Taking a deep breath, her eyes didn’t flicker away, just held him right there. ‘I think we could both use a cool shower.’ She swallowed. Her blush had nothing to do with embarrassment, just the rosy glow of arousal. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Hell, Rachael,’ he croaked, half laughing, half cursing. ‘How am I supposed to make it back to the table now?’
She nestled against him, laughing at his embarrassment. ‘Looks like we’re going to have to just keep right on dancing.’
There was something incredibly sexy about a deserted ballroom. The lipstick on the glasses, the tired staff listlessly cleaning up, the popped balloons and slowly wilting flowers. Or maybe it had something to do with the two of them sitting at the table, oblivious of the pointed stares from the waiters as they laughed at each other’s jokes, spread cheese on crackers and fed each other like lovers.
‘Let’s walk,’ Hugh suggested.
‘Let’s not,’ Rachael grumbled. All she wanted was for him to take her across the magnificent foyer up to his splendid room, lay her on the bed and make love to her.
‘We need to talk.’
CHAPTER NINE
ONLY in Melbourne.
Maybe in a hundred other cities in the world you could walk along the river barefoot in a ballgown, holding hands, on the threshold of the love affair of a lifetime, but Melbourne was one of the few places in the world you could do it in utter safety, barely meriting a glance. Jeans or jewels were treated with the same friendly politeness. They shared a smile as they sat at an outdoor café, accepting the coffee the waitress placed in front of them.
‘I hope that’s the groom.’ Rachael followed Hugh’s gaze and grinned as she watched a bride in full regalia pull off her shoes then jump onto her husband’s lap.
‘You asked why I didn’t kiss you.’
Suddenly she felt incredibly shy. Maybe she had instigated all this, but that had been when in a ballroom full of people, the best part of a bottle of champagne doing unmentionable things to her usually shredded confidence. Two coffees later and suddenly Rachael didn’t feel so brave any more.
‘Do you remember your first day back?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Do you remember what earrings you were wearing, what colour hair tie you had on? How many pens you had in your pocket?’
She stared at him, dumbfounded, no idea where he was heading.
‘I do,’ he said simply. ‘I remember every tiny detail. The second I stood up and turned around and saw you, something happened, Rachael. I don’t know if it was love at first sight, but if it wasn’t it was a damned good imitation.’ He stirred his coffee as she sat there, trembling. ‘I’ve never reacted so violently to anyone. Hell, Rachael, I get on with everyone, and there I was, ten minutes after meeting you, on the verge of losing my temper.
‘Then you told me about Amy.’
She watched the froth in her café latte disperse, fiddled with her teaspoon and tore at yet another packet of sugar, which she slowly drizzled over her drink.
‘I knew then that I had to take things gently. Yes, I was attracted to you, yes, I wanted to get to know you, but you’d been through so much already, I just thought a relationship probably wasn’t on your agenda.’
‘It wasn’t,’ Rachael admitted half to herself, then added more forcibly, ‘In fact, it was the furthest thing from my mind.’ The softest sound escaped her lips, a gentle, thoughtful sigh. ‘Then you came along.’
‘Sitting in that restaurant …’ he gestured along the river, pointing her thoughts to where it had all begun, not so long ago yet a lifetime away ‘… I thought I could do it, thought I could be there for you, and, I’m sorry if this sounds presumptuous, I wanted to be the one to be there for you. Wanted to make things better.’
‘To be the good guy?’ She shook her head when he didn’t answer. ‘No one can make it better, Hugh,’ she said without a trace of self-pity. ‘Not even you.’
‘I don’t believe that. I know life can never be perfect for you, I know there will always be a part of you that’s grieving, desolate, but I truly believe it can still be better.’
He sounded so sure, so confident she almost believed him.
‘I thought you needed a friend.’ Hugh’s hand was edging over the table. With a flash of impatience he jerked the teaspoon away and grabbed at her hand, commanding her to concentrate. ‘And, fool that I am, I thought I could be that friend, put the attraction I undoubtedly felt on the back burner and be there for you. And if in time something grew, then all the better.’ He closed his eyes and Rachael waited in silence for him to continue. ‘You come with a lot of baggage, Rachael.’
Pulling her hand away, she reached again for the spoon. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said sarcastically, but his hand reached across for her chin this time, forcing her eyes up to his.
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for, and I don’t care a damn about your past, not in that sense anyway. What I care about is you. I can’t be a friend to you, Rachael. When you were hissing and spitting, I could just about manage it, but when you relaxed, when you started to unwind …’ He let out a long sigh. ‘Driving you home that night, I knew for a fact I couldn’t be what you needed.’
‘So I wasn’t imagining things?’ She gave a low laugh. ‘How do you know what I need? How can you know when you haven’t even asked?’
‘The way I feel about you, Rachael, it isn’t going to be a casual fling. I’m crazy about you, you’re all I think about.’
‘Honestly?’ She blinked a couple of times. ‘But you seemed so … so detached. All that talk about being friends …’
‘Rachael, I’ve been going crazy trying to be nice, trying to keep my feelings hidden. Sitting with you in the movies, sharing a bottle of wine, you’ve no idea how hard it’s been to pretend I don’t want you.’ Hugh gave her a smile. ‘Guess what? I hate cricket, can’t stand the wretched game, but, watching you rub in that oil, it was either fall in love with the game—and quickly—or risk taking you to bed then and there.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’ His voice was suddenly serious. ‘I don’t want you to regret anything. I don’t want you to regret tonight, for it to be an impulse thing because we’re both looking good and have had a bit too much to drink.’
‘There’s nothing impulsive about my feelings, Hugh.’ It was Rachael who now took his hand. ‘You know that picnic basket? Do you remember how I nearly jumped out of my skin when you offered to take it out to the car for me?’ She watched him frown as he recalled the incident. ‘Well, guess what was in it?’
‘Chicken.’ He shrugged. ‘Chicken and wine.’
‘Uh-uh,’ Rachael shook her head. ‘Two condoms.’
‘Condoms?’ The bride and groom sitting nearby stopped kissing and looked over, along with the rest of the café. Hugh recovered quickly and gave her a deep, intimate smile, the sort of smile that had her stomach turning somersaults. ‘Two wouldn’t have been enough, you know.’
‘I would hope not.’ Rachael felt like picking up the table, picking it up and hurling it into the river such was her need to be beside him. But Hugh was right. They needed to talk, needed to get things out in the open, and it wasn’t quite finished yet. ‘They’re not mutually exclusive.’
His forehead creased as she tentatively continued, ‘Friends can be lovers, too.’
But he shook his head. ‘You know what I mean. I want you, Rachael.’ His words caused a warm glow to spread through her, shielding her from the inevitable ‘but’ that was about to come. ‘What if Richard comes back?’
‘He’s not going to.’
‘You were together eight years, Rachael, that has to count for something. You’ve just lost a baby … Surely that’s enough to test even the strongest marriage.’
‘It wasn’t a strong marriage,’ she reasoned. ‘Amy’s death just brought it to a head. In some ways it destroyed me, while in others it strengthened me.’
‘That evening, when I came round after Sheila die
d, you were wearing his shirt.’
‘So?’
He gave her a long look. ‘It just seemed … I don’t know, intimate, I guess.’
‘You think that means I still want him?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered honestly. ‘I just don’t know what to think where you’re concerned, Rachael. You don’t exactly come with a user manual.’
‘It was an old shirt,’ Rachael said, a smile spreading on her face as she watched Hugh’s reaction, understanding how such a seemingly insignificant detail would be enough to compound his doubts at such a vulnerable time. ‘I don’t even think he ever wore it—it probably wasn’t expensive enough for him. I think I’ve even done the gardening in it. Honestly, Hugh, I wasn’t having a melancholy night in, dreaming about Richard. It was you I was thinking about.
‘You,’ she said again softly. ‘And, if you must know, you’re all that I seem to have been thinking about recently.’
‘Rachael.’ Richard’s voice, incredulous, tentative, was like an unwelcome ghost, and she literally froze as Hugh looked up in stunned disbelief.
Only in Melbourne.
Only here would your ex-husband be strolling hand in hand along the river with his date. A city it might be, but it wasn’t quite big enough to get lost in.
‘Richard.’ In a flurry of nervousness she jumped up. ‘Hugh, this is Richard, my—’
Hugh didn’t even bother to be polite. ‘I think I get the picture.’
‘You’re looking marvellous,’ Richard enthused. ‘Marvellous.’ He eyed her up and down with undisguised admiration. ‘You’ve lost so much weight.’
Those five little words were enough to snap Rachael back to attention and she sat back down, trying to catch Hugh’s eye to give him an apologetic smile. But he was staring fixedly ahead, not even bothering to attempt small talk.
The desperate socialite, Richard attempted to flog a dead horse. ‘Beautiful night. We’ve just been to Grant Hisslop’s engagement—you remember Grant?’ He seemed to remember then that he had company. ‘This is Susie.’ His partner flashed a toothy white smile, her face bored and impassive. ‘So, where have you two been?’ Richard asked in a friendly voice that was so false it set the hairs on Rachael’s neck on end.
The Surgeon’s Gift Page 10
