The Nurse's Christmas Gift

by Tina Beckett

  He repeated the act. Words failed her, a jumble of sensations eclipsing her ability to think, much less talk.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, the release she’d sought just seconds ago now rushing at her much too quickly.

  His voice came from above her. ‘I think it is.’

  His fingertips found her nipples once again and squeezed, the dual assault wracking her body with a pleasure so sharp it made her arch up seeking him. ‘Max.’

  He gave her what she wanted then, thrusting forward and finding her immediately. The movement was so sudden it made her gasp, her fingers clutching his shoulders as he set up a quick rhythm that didn’t give her any room to catch her breath. Instead it tossed her high into the air and held her there for several seconds, and then she was over the edge, her body spasming around his. Max groaned, his mouth finding hers as he plunged again and again before finally slowing, the sound of his heavy breathing wonderfully loud in her ears.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight as the emotions she’d been holding back finally bubbled over, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Annabelle came to a stunning realisation.

  She loved her husband.

  She didn’t just love him. She was in love with him. She’d never stopped being in love with him. She’d submerged the truth—buried it far out of sight—and tried to lose herself in caring for sick children instead. Only it hadn’t worked. Not entirely.

  Because here it was. In plain sight.

  Annabelle loved him. Deeply. Entirely. And she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT HADN’T FELT like goodbye sex.

  The deep sleep that had finally pulled Max under in the early hours of the morning released him just as quickly.

  He blinked a couple of times, trying to bring to mind exactly what had happened last night, but it all blurred together to form a scene of decadence and exhausting satisfaction.

  Annabelle.

  He turned his head to look at her side of the bed only to find it empty—the nightstand bare of anything except a clock. No note. He frowned before remembering that they’d come to London together, so it wasn’t likely that she’d slipped out and caught a train back to Cheltenham. So she was still here. Somewhere.

  She was here.

  He relaxed and rolled onto his back, settling into the pillows with his hands behind his head. It was just seven in the morning. They might even have time for another session before they had to be on their way.

  And do what afterwards?

  He wasn’t sure. But maybe they could start again. In the crush of timetables and thermometers and ovulation charts, Max had forgotten just how good sex—real sex, not something with a goal in mind—had been between them. Last night had brought it all rushing back. Their first year had been out of this world. They’d been so in tune with each other’s needs that it had seemed nothing would be able to come between them.

  Until it had.

  Maybe they could get back to the ‘before’ part of the equation.

  Was he actually thinking of getting back together with her? Could they erase what had torn them apart and start over? If so, they could just put off signing any papers for a while and wander down this lane for a few miles and see what happened.

  Unless Annabelle didn’t want to do that.

  Didn’t someone say that couples who were getting divorced would sometimes fall into each other’s arms one last time as a way of saying goodbye or having closure? What they’d done hadn’t seemed like that. At least not to him.

  Vaguely he was aware of the sound of running water. Ah, that answered the question as to where she was. She was taking a shower.

  Naked.

  She probably had soap streaming down her body.

  Naked.

  When the word popped up a second time, he smiled. Hadn’t he just thought about how it was still early?

  Well, they could kill two birds with one stone. He could soap her back, while doing a few other things.

  Throwing the blankets off, he realised the flat was chilly. The heat must be turned down, since Suzanne hadn’t expected anyone to be living here.

  He’d have to call her this morning and let her know he’d spent the night so she didn’t come into the flat, realise someone had been in there and assume there’d been an intruder. And he’d promised he would call the hospital first thing to see how Baby Hope was doing. This was a good time to do that.

  Bringing up the number on his smartphone, he rang the main desk of the hospital.

  ‘This is Mr Ainsley. Is Miss McDonald in yet?’

  ‘Let me check.’

  The voice clicked off and became elevator music as he was put on hold. The shower was still running. Even if she came out before he was done with his call, he would just coax her back under the spray.

  The music stopped and Sienna’s voice came over the line. ‘Hi, Max. Everything okay?’

  It was more than okay, but that wasn’t something he was going to tell anyone. Not yet.

  ‘Fine. I’m just checking on our patient.’

  He could practically hear a smile form on the other doctor’s lips. ‘We have several patients. Which one are you referring to?’

  This time the smile was on his end. ‘A certain young transplant patient.’

  ‘She’s fine. No more episodes of a-fib.’ There was a pause. ‘I do seem to remember telling you I would call you if there was any change.’

  ‘You did. But I wanted to be able to tell...’ This time it was Max who stopped short. He wasn’t really ready for anyone to know that he and Annabelle had spent the night together. ‘I just wanted to see if I needed to rush back this morning or not.’

  ‘No need to rush at all. She’s doing brilliantly.’

  ‘Good. Thank you for taking over her case during my absence.’

  ‘Not a problem at all. Are you coming back today?’

  ‘Yes.’ Which brought back to mind what he’d set out to do when he got out of bed. ‘I’ll be in around four o’clock this afternoon. Call me if you need me.’

  ‘I will. Have a safe trip.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Max rang off, scrubbing a hand through his hair. And now back to his previous thoughts of Annabelle and that shower.

  Before he headed for the bathroom, though, he made a quick detour down the hallway and turned the heating up to a tolerable level—the amazing thing was they hadn’t noticed the cold last night when they’d been making love. Then he padded back to the bathroom, stopping just outside the door.

  The shower was definitely running.

  He hadn’t put on any clothes before falling asleep so that saved him a step. His mouth watered. He could certainly use a shower. Now more than ever.

  Trying the doorknob and finding it unlocked, he eased into the room. Steam enveloped the space. She’d been in here a while. But then again, he remembered Annabelle had loved long, luxurious baths and showers. Her skin would be soft and moist...

  Gulping, he removed his watch and placed it on the counter and then turned towards the shower enclosure. He could just barely make out Annabelle’s form through the frosted glass. His body hardened all over again. How did she do that to him?

  It was almost as if they’d been given a clean slate. Something he’d needed—they’d both needed.

  With that thought in his head, he wrapped a hand around the handle of the door just as the water switched off.

  Damn!

  Yanking the door open, he found a pink-faced Annabelle, her hair streaming down her back, eyes wide with surprise.

  ‘Max! I thought you were still asleep.’

  ‘I was. But then I heard the shower and thought I might take one too.’

  Her slow
smile lit up the enclosure. ‘I think I might have left you a little hot water. If you can be quick.’

  ‘Did you forget? We had an on-demand unit put in. I can be as slow as I want to be.’

  ‘Can you?’ Her smile widened. ‘I may have missed a spot or two, then. Do you mind if I join you?’

  ‘I was counting on it.’

  With that, Max closed the door and turned on the shower. Then, with the sting of hot water pelting his back, he put everything else out of his mind as he moved to turn on Anna.

  * * *

  Annabelle stretched up to kiss Max’s shoulder one last time, her body warm and limp as she stood on the warm tiles of the shower enclosure. ‘Were you able to call the hospital yet?’

  ‘How did I know you were going to ask that?’ He gathered her hair in his hand and squeezed the excess water out. ‘I’ve missed doing this.’

  ‘Showering?’

  ‘Showering...with you.’

  ‘I’ve missed it too. Along with...’ Her hands swept down his chest, heading to regions below, only to have him catch her before she reached her destination.

  ‘Witch. Is that all you’ve missed?’

  Was there a hint of insecurity in that voice? Impossible. Max was never insecure. He always knew exactly what he wanted. Or didn’t want.

  A chill went over her.

  No. He’d said he’d missed her. Or had he? Hadn’t his exact words been that he’d missed showering with her? Having sex with her?

  Not exactly. He’d stopped her from stroking him. Had asked if that was all she’d missed. Maybe he was seeking reassurance.

  ‘No, it’s not all I’ve missed. I’ve missed...us.’ She tried to let the sincerity in her voice ring through.

  Threading his fingers through hers, he nodded. ‘So have I. And yes, I called the hospital. Hope is doing fine.’

  ‘Thank God. Maybe this will be a happy Christmas after all.’ She wasn’t above seeking a little reassurance herself.

  ‘I’m hoping it will.’ Letting her go, he stepped out of the shower, leaving her alone. Just when the worry centres began firing in her head, he came back, a thick white towel in his hands. Another one was wrapped around his waist.

  ‘I guess this means fun time is over?’

  ‘Didn’t you say you had a shift this afternoon?’

  ‘Oh! That’s right.’ How could she have forgotten that? Maybe because when Max was around, she tended to forget everything.

  When she went to grab the towel from him, he held it just out of reach. ‘Not so fast. There’s something else I’ve missed.’

  With that, he opened the fluffy terry and proceeded to pat her dry, starting with her face and gently moving down her body, until he was kneeling before her, sweeping the towel down her thighs and calves. A familiar tingling began stirring in her midsection. ‘You’d better be careful, or I’m never going to let you out of this room.’

  ‘I can think of worse things than being kept as your prisoner.’

  The towel moved between her legs, teasing more intimate territory.

  A low moan came from her throat before she could stop it. ‘That’s so not fair. You didn’t let me touch you.’

  His eyes came up to meet hers. ‘You have more control than I do.’

  ‘Wanna bet?’ She tangled her fingers in his hair, letting the warm moist strands filter between them. ‘I’ve never been able to resist you. I really do need to get to work, though.’

  He stood. ‘See? More control. Bend over.’

  ‘Wh...what?’ The word sputtered out on a half-laugh.

  ‘Naughty girl. Not for that.’ He grinned, the act taking years off his face. ‘Now bend over.’

  She did as he asked, and Max flipped her hair over until the strands hung straight down. Then he wrapped the towel around her head and twisted it, enveloping her wet locks in it. A glimmer of disappointment went through her. Max had it all wrong. She had no control when it came to him. She wanted him. All the time.

  And now that things seemed to be easing between them, maybe she’d be able to have him whenever she wanted him. At least that was what she hoped. Surely he felt the same way as she did.

  She tightened the towel and then stood upright again, letting the end of it slide down the back of her head. Luckily there was still a hairdryer in the flat. She’d found it when searching through the drawers.

  Max opened the shower door for her and let her step out. A wave of steam followed her as he wrapped her in a second towel. ‘Good thing we don’t have an alarm that is triggered by heat.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a very good thing.’ He encircled her waist and pulled her back against him. ‘I can think of several times during the night when we might have set it off, if so.’

  ‘I can think of several times that you went off too.’

  He dropped a kiss on her hair, and she felt something stir against her backside. He gave a strangled laugh. ‘Maybe we’d better not talk about that right now.’

  Maybe they shouldn’t. Because the tingling that had started when he’d towel-dried her was getting stronger. ‘Okay, let me get dressed and dry my hair, and I’ll be ready.’

  He tipped up her head and gave her a soft kiss. ‘Okay, but it’s under duress.’ Letting her go, he dragged his hands through his own wet hair, which settled right into place.

  ‘That is so not fair. You don’t have to do anything to look great.’

  ‘Neither do you.’ He tapped her nose with his finger. ‘You are perfect just as you are.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, but I do feel perfectly satisfied.’ She went over and opened a drawer, finding the hairdryer she’d discovered earlier. She picked it up, laughing as a thought hit her. ‘After all those contortions we did years ago, wouldn’t it be funny if last night or this morning did what all the hormone treatments couldn’t? So...do you want a boy or a girl?’

  It was only when she picked up her hairbrush that she realised Max wasn’t laughing. He had gone very still.

  He slipped his watch around his wrist, before looking up. His eyes were completely blank, although a muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘A boy or a girl?’

  A sliver of alarm went through her at the slow words. Where was the man who had just made love to her as if he couldn’t get enough?

  She forced a smile to her face. One she didn’t feel. ‘It’s just that it would be ironic, if I got pregnant when we weren’t even trying.’

  Actually, it wouldn’t be funny. Or ironic. Or anything else. Why had she even said that?

  Max turned and went into the bedroom. With a panicked sense of déjà vu, Annabelle followed him, finding the bed was perfectly made. So perfectly that if she hadn’t remembered writhing like a maniac beneath those sheets, she might have thought it was all a dream.

  Only that exquisite bit of soreness in all the right places said it had been very real.

  Except there was that weird vibe she’d picked up after joking about getting pregnant. He hadn’t looked or sounded like someone who would be thrilled about that happening. Maybe she should put his mind at ease. She moved closer.

  ‘Hey, are you afraid I might get pregnant because of what we did?’

  His pupils darkened, expanding until they seemed to take up his entire iris. ‘I think the more appropriate question would be: are you afraid you won’t get pregnant?’

  She blinked. ‘No, of course not. I was joking.’

  ‘Were you? Because right now, I don’t feel like laughing.’

  Neither did she. She had no idea why the pregnancy thing had crossed her mind. Maybe because it had been so long since they’d had sex that was totally spontaneous.

  Nothing like bringing up a whole slew of bad memories, though.

  He turned away and picked up his overnight bag, setting it on the
bed.

  Annabelle caught at his arm, forcing him to face her again. ‘Look, I’m sorry. Obviously it’s still a touchy subject.’

  ‘Touchy would be an understatement.’ The thin line of his mouth was a warning she remembered from days past. ‘Is this why you were so eager to get back to the flat last night—were you trying to hit a certain magic window? If so, you’ve got the wrong man.’

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything of the sort! You’re being ridiculous.’

  It was as if everything they’d done last night had been swept away, dropping them back into the same angry arguments from their past.

  ‘I’m being ridiculous?’ His tone was dangerously soft. ‘Funny you should say that, because I seem to remember a whole lot of ridiculousness that went on during our marriage. That journal you kept being one of them.’

  The words slapped at Annabelle, leaving her speechless for several seconds. He considered their attempts to have a baby ‘ridiculousness’?

  The pain in her gut and the throbbing in her chest were duelling with each other, seeking the nearest available exit: her eyes. But she couldn’t let the gathering tears stop her from trying one last time.

  ‘Max, I wasn’t serious about what I said in the bathroom.’

  It was as if he hadn’t heard her at all. ‘We should have used some kind of protection. I meant what I said three years ago. I don’t want children.’

  His words stopped her all over again.

  ‘Ever?’

  ‘Ever. I thought I made that perfectly clear.’

  He had. But that had been three years ago. A lot had changed since then. Maybe more than she’d thought. He’d never once mentioned still loving her. Not last night. Not this morning. The closest he’d come was the word ‘spark’.

  Oh, God, how could she have been so stupid? And just to prove that she was, the words kept pouring out.

  ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

  ‘No? I’m saying this was a mistake, Annabelle.’ He glanced one last time at the open bag on the bed. ‘When we get back to Cheltenham, I’m going to find those divorce papers and sign them.’ There was a long pause, and she suddenly knew the hammer was going to fall and crush her beneath its blow. ‘And if you haven’t already, I’m going to ask that you sign them too.’