One Step At A Time

by Caroline Anderson

  Kate hardly saw her. She was too busy trying not to scream. All her worst fears had suddenly come home to roost. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she asked bluntly, glaring at the occupant of the wheelchair.

  Dominic, dressed only in T-shirt and boxer shorts, grinned unrepentantly. ‘I was bored. I thought I’d come home.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘DOMINIC, you cannot do this!’

  They glared at each other across his consulting room.

  ‘Oh, I can, Kate. This is my clinic, my home, and it’s my body. If I want to come home, I will, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!’

  ‘But you shouldn’t be here—’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s foolish! You need medical attention!’

  ‘Yes—and you’re a doctor. I also need physiotherapy, hydrotherapy, rest and drugs—all of these I can have here. Damn it, Kate, this is a rehabilitation clinic! Everything I could possibly want is here on tap, and above all it’s my home. I want to be here.’

  She glared at him again. ‘You are so stubborn!’

  ‘That shouldn’t come as any surprise to you,’ he snarled. ‘I always was. That’s why this place works—because I won’t give in.’

  ‘Well, don’t expect me to look after you,’ she snapped back, ‘because I haven’t got time!’

  ‘Have I asked?’

  She turned and stared out of the window. The sun was shining and the trees were whispering gently in the breeze. And she was angry.

  ‘I knew you’d discharge yourself too soon,’ she told him through tight lips.

  ‘Why is it too soon?’

  ‘Dominic!’ She wheeled on him. ‘You haven’t even had your stitches out! It’s been five days—five miserable short days!’

  ‘Five miserable long days, actually, and five equally long and miserable nights. Kate, I couldn’t stand it.’

  ‘Tough.’

  Anger darkened his features, and his eyes flashed furiously. ‘It is not tough,’ he said, deadly quiet. ‘It is my home, my decision. If you don’t want to supervise my care, fine. Jeremy can do it. You’re fired.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘Fired? What the hell are you talking about? Who’s going to took after the patients when his wife has the baby?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘You can’t!’

  ‘Watch me. Just remember, Kate, you’re my ex-wife. If it doesn’t affect Stephie, you don’t have a damn bit of say in what I do or where I do it!’

  Their eyes locked, and after an endless moment Kate looked away.

  ‘Fine. At least I know where I stand,’ she said at last. Did the hurt show in her voice? She didn’t know—didn’t really care. She just wanted to get away from him.

  She dodged round his wheelchair and left the room, running through the courtyard, over the grass in the walled garden and in through the back door of the cottage.

  Damn him. How could he? All that talk about getting to know each other again, and it was all so much hogwash. As soon as they were together it was fight, fight, fight. And all because she cared about him, because she wanted him to be looked after.

  She dashed the tears from her eyes and ran up the stairs, throwing things together on the bed and then sagging down in a heap in the middle to weep out her frustration.

  More than her frustration. There was an ache inside, a deep, painful ache of loss, of disappointment. Had she really expected them to be reconciled? Had she really felt they’d stood a chance?

  She must have been crazy.

  She heard her name, and, yanking the suitcase out from under the bed, she threw her things into it willynilly. To hell with him. She was going. There was nothing more to say.

  ‘Kate? I want to talk to you!’

  ‘Tough,’ she muttered. ‘Go to hell.’

  Wash things, she remembered, and went to the bathroom next door to retrieve them. There was washing in the laundry basket, too. Blast. She pulled it out, taking Stephie’s too. Should their daughter stay? Another decision. She hesitated, then picked up Stephie’s wash things as well. She could come home—at least until Dominic was a little better. He seemed to have given up yelling, anyway. Perhaps he’d gone.

  No such luck. As she came out of the bathroom she saw Dominic, just an arm’s reach away from her, drag himself to his feet at the top of the stairs and sway wildly against the banisters.

  ‘What the hell are you doing now?’ she yelled at him, catching his sleeve and pulling him round the corner to safety. ‘For God’s sake, you’ll fall down and break your stupid neck—’

  The tears wouldn’t be held back, and she sagged against the wall, hands over her face, and sobbed her heart out.

  His arms were hard and strong and tender, and one large hand cupped the back of her head and held it against his chest as he leaned with her against the wall.

  His words rumbled against her hair, soothing her despite her anger and frustration. ‘Oh, Kate, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.’ His hand smoothed her hair. ‘Don’t cry,’ he said again. ‘Hush, sweetheart, hush...’

  His heart was thrashing under her ear, telling of the effort it had cost him to mount the stairs. Fool. He was such a fool. Her eyes welled again. ‘I only want what’s best for you,’ she said tearfully. ‘How could you be so silly? You should be in bed, for God’s sake...’

  He sighed and held her for a moment, then eased away. ‘What’s it like to be right all the time?’ he asked wryly.

  She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. ‘I have no idea.’

  He laughed—a short, painful sound. ‘I need to lie down. Can you help me get to your bed, please? At the risk of you saying “I told you so”, I have to admit I’m really not up to this.’

  She straightened away from him and sniffed hard, then put her arm round his waist. ‘Lean on me,’ she instructed, and slowly, bit by bit, they made it to the bed in her room. She shovelled the clothes and case off onto the floor and helped him down, then sat beside him. ‘Idiot,’ she chided tenderly, smoothing the damp hair back from his forehead, her tears forgotten. ‘You’ve gone white as a sheet.’

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ he muttered. ‘Lie down—let me hold you.’

  Panic flooded her. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea—’

  ‘Please? I just want to be on the same level for a change. I’m sick of people looking down on me. I hope to God I’m never a paraplegic.’

  She lay down very carefully, avoiding his leg, and his arms closed round her again, pulling her against his chest with a rumbling sigh.

  She laid her arm low down over his waist, so that she didn’t press on his bruised ribs, and let her head lean against his shoulder.

  It brought back so many memories. How many times had they lain together like this in the past? His heart had steadied now, and there was an even, reassuring thud under her ear. She felt herself relax against him, and breathed deeply.

  Beyond the smell of hospital and essential oils was the familiar fragrance of his skin, and memories flooded her. Her right arm was draped over him as always, and she could feel the warmth of his body through the thin T-shirt he was wearing. It was like coming home. Her hand flattened against his side and hugged gently, careful of his bruises.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she murmured.

  ‘Mmm. It’s easing. It was coming upstairs.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘You should have asked me to come down.’

  ‘Would you have come?’

  She sighed. ‘Probably not. I heard you call.’

  ‘There you are, then. That’s why I came up.’

  The logic was irrefutable.

  ‘Why did you want to talk to, me?’ she asked.

  ‘To stop you leaving.’

  She lifted her head and met his eyes. ‘But why? You don’t want me here. You said so.’

  He sighed, and his hand came up and caressed her shoulder, easing. her back down against him. ‘I’m s
orry. It’s crazy. One of the reasons I came home was to be near you, and yet the first thing I did was tell you to leave.’

  Her heart—silly, stupid thing—did a back flip in her chest. He wanted to be near her? Oh, Lord...

  ‘I still think it’s awfully soon to discharge yourself, though. Clinic or no clinic.’

  He sighed again. ‘I know, but the fact is I can be looked after here, and if I’m sitting in a wheelchair on the premises and there’s a problem with someone’s treatment plan I can always be consulted.’

  She laughed, It was almost what she’d hoped for on Saturday, and it would solve her problems with Jeremy’s absence when the baby came—if only he would be prepared to take a back seat. Would he, though? ‘I knew you’d only come back to interfere. You promised me you wouldn’t,’ she reminded him.

  ‘And I won’t—not unless you ask me. But Jeremy’s wife really is on the point of producing this baby, and I didn’t want you having to carry the responsibility alone.’

  ‘So you discharged yourself, for all these good reasons, and then promptly walked upstairs!’

  ‘I didn’t walk,’ he corrected drily. ‘I dragged myself up on my bottom.’

  ‘And how do you propose to get down?’

  He laughed. ‘God knows. Acupuncture? Handfuls of pills? Both, probably.’

  ‘I could thrash you with nettles—test the theory?’ she offered.

  He turned half on his side and tipped her chin with his hand. ‘Sadist,’ he murmured, and then without warning his mouth found hers and heat poured through her.

  She felt the soft sweep of his tongue against her lips, and with a little moan she opened to him, arching against him as he plundered the velvet softness of her mouth.

  She wanted to die—now, while she was already in heaven. His tongue dallied with hers, chasing it then drawing it into his mouth and suckling on it until her body felt like jelly.

  After a moment he pulled away and she cried out, but he didn’t go far, his lips moving over her throat in hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her ache for more.

  ‘Nick,’ she sighed, and her hand slid round his waist and up his back, savouring the warm, supple skin beneath the T-shirt. He felt wonderful—firm and strong and so familiar.

  He had filled out in the past twelve years, of course, but still she knew his body as well as she knew her own, and her fingers revelled in the feel of it against her skin.

  The urge to touch wasn’t hers alone, though. She felt his hand slide down from her shoulder and cup her breast, and a groan was torn from his throat. His mouth returned to hers, searching desperately, clinging and plundering as his hand cupped and squeezed and caressed, leaving her aching.

  His thigh nudged between hers, but as the weight of her leg moved across his he grunted and pulled away, rolling to his back and swearing softly.

  His leg. Oh, Lord, how could she have forgotten? She lifted herself up on one elbow and looked down at him, racked with guilt. ‘Nick? Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.’

  He opened his eyes. ‘I’m OK. It was just a twinge.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘Well, maybe more than a twinge. Still, it’s probably just as well. I guess it’s as effective a form of contraception as any other.’

  She rolled away from him and sat up, the heat draining away from her as effectively as if he had doused her with cold water. What on earth were they thinking about? She covered her face with her hands and groaned aloud. ‘Dominic Heywood, you are so sneaky.’

  ‘Sneaky?’ She felt the bed shift, then his hand, warm and heavy, on her shoulder. ‘Kate, I swear, I didn’t mean to start anything. You were just there, so close—I’m sorry.’

  She turned her head and looked at him, lying behind her, his eyes brilliant blue and touched with remorse.

  ‘I really wasn’t making a move on you, Kate, I promise. I just forgot myself.’

  She looked way. Those incredible eyes would have her believing anything. ‘Well, don’t do it again,’ she warned him. ‘I mean it, Nick. It would be so easy to fall into bed with you all over again, but I really don’t want to. It would just confuse everything.’

  His hand on her shoulder squeezed lightly then slid down her arm, settling at her wrist like a shackle. She could feel her pulse pounding under his fingertips, and knew that he could feel it too.

  His voice was soft and husky, sliding over her senses. ‘It’s still there, Kate, isn’t it—that old chemistry that used to keep us awake?’ His fingers trailed up her arm. ‘Can you remember?’

  She snatched her arm away. ‘Of course I remember,’ she whispered.

  ‘It was always after midnight—after your parents were asleep and there was no one to hear us—can you remember that, my Katie? The way we’d touch, the passion we’d unleash like a tiger in the night? You used to bite my shoulder to stop from crying out. I had a permanent bruise.’ His hand found hers again, his fingers trailing over her skin like live wires. ‘You were beautiful, Kate—sweet and warm and wild. We were good together then. Remember?’

  ‘I remember the rows,’ she said, her voice rough with emotion. She jerked to her feet, but he reached out and caught her by the hand before she could run away.

  ‘So we used to fight. There were good times too, my love,’ he murmured. ‘It wasn’t all bad.’

  She looked down at him. ‘No. No, it wasn’t all bad, but the good bits weren’t enough. Not then, at least.’

  ‘We were kids.’

  ‘Yes—and we behaved like kids. We’re adults now, Nick. All grown up. It’s time we remembered it. I’ve got patients to see. Let me help you downstairs and then I’ll get one of the nurses to come and settle you in bed with a drink and something to read.’

  ‘I’m not two,’ he said mildly.

  ‘No, just stupid.’

  He sighed and sat up, slowly easing his leg to the edge of the bed nearest the door. As he stood up a spasm crossed his face and he swore softly.

  ‘Come on,’ she said more kindly, her heart softening. ‘Let me help you.’

  He slung his arm round her shoulders and leant on her, then hopped slowly out to the landing. ‘Let me lean on the banisters,’ he said. ‘I can press harder on them.’

  He worked his way to the end, sat on the top step and rested for a moment, his face grey.

  ‘You are such a fool,’ she scolded softly.

  ‘I noticed,’ he bit back, and then slowly, step by step, he worked his way down the stairs on his bottom. By the time he reached the wheelchair he was exhausted and shaken, and she helped him into it and wheeled him through to the bedroom, then half lifted him onto the bed.

  He fell back with a ragged groan and she eased his legs up onto the mattress, laid the covers lightly over him and left him to it. She had work to do. Someone else would have to sort him out.

  She couldn’t stop herself from giving him the kiss, though—just a light brush of her lips against his cheek and a murmured farewell as she opened the French doors and went out through the garden.

  So he was home—in agony, crabby and irritable, and overdoing it copiously. Everything she had expected and more—because he was also apologetic and surprisingly humble.

  Maybe he really wanted a serious chance at their relationship. She caught her lip in her teeth. Would it work? Could it work? Physically it would. She had no doubts about that. They had never had any problems in that department. Emotionally, spiritually, mentally, though—did they have what it took to be friends as well as lovers?

  Only time would tell.

  The next few days were hell for Kate. If she’d thought she’d won, and that he would stay in bed, she had been mistaken.

  The rest of the first day, Tuesday, he did spend in bed, exhausted after his mammoth excursion up the stairs. Wednesday, however, found him scooting round the clinic in a wheelchair, with his leg stuck out in front of him on a fracture board, interfering.

  That was how she saw it, anyway. He was at the case conference at eight, catching up on the patients and scheduling
Brian Pooley for his dorsal column stimulator implant for the following day.

  ‘You can’t possibly operate!’ Kate objected. ‘Dominic, you’re mad!’

  He gave her a level look. ‘I will do what’s necessary. It takes a very short while. I can assure you I can and will do it, tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You are so stubborn,’ she muttered under her breath.

  ‘Very likely, but it gets the job done,’ he bit back. ‘Now, how is Karen Lloyd settling?’

  ‘Her muscles are very tight,’ Lucie, her physiotherapist, reported. ‘I did some soft tissue work on her back and shoulders yesterday, and I used the ultrasound, I think we need some really deep tissue work—perhaps some work on trigger points. She’s suffering a lot of pain from nerve entrapment where the nerves travel through the different muscle layers. The muscles are so tight that the nerves are being crushed. I hate to say it, but I think she needs acupuncture.’

  Dominic nodded. ‘OK, I can do that this morning.’

  ‘Dominic,!’

  He just looked at Kate, and she subsided. He had already tried to fire her once. She would be more use to him if she just stayed quiet and did as much as possible without him being aware of it. That would leave less for him to do.

  Anyway, she had something else up her sleeve.

  ‘Right, is that it?’ he asked as they finished discussing the last patient.

  ‘Ah, no, there is one more patient,’ Kate said quietly.

  His brows twitched together in a frown. ‘Who?’

  ‘You.’

  He blinked. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. I want to check you thoroughly, then you’ll need a programme of physio, possibly manipulation—is your neck still troubling you?’

  ‘What makes you think it is?’

  She laughed shortly. ‘The way you keep rolling your head? The fact that your hand goes up every now and again to squeeze the muscles? After all, you smacked into the steering wheel hard enough to break your nose and mash your chest. Why shouldn’t your neck suffer too? You can’t have hydrotherapy until your stitches are out and the entry wound for the pin’s healed on your hip, but you could do some upper body stretches and resisted exercises in the gym—when you’re not resting, of course.’