by Kate Hardy
This wasn’t meant to be happening.
For pity’s sake. They were in a public place. Among lots of people they both worked with. It wasn’t appropriate to start snogging his face off, as if they were teenagers.
Except then he kissed her. Still light, still gentle. And Florence couldn’t think straight any more after that.
She was aware that the song had changed but the tempo hadn’t. If she had any sense, she’d make herself take a step backwards and suggest he dance with someone else. Except she couldn’t. She wanted his arms wrapped round her and hers round him, cocooning them both. She wanted to feel his heart beating in time with her own.
Even when the music changed tempo again and she managed to back away enough so that they both danced with other people, she was still so aware of Rob and how it had felt to kiss him. It set little tingles running all the way through her, and she was shocked to realise that it was desire.
It had been so long since she’d felt like that about anyone. Since she’d allowed herself to feel like that about anyone, because memories of the bitterness with Dan had held her back. And it threw her, to the point where she had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
Rob hadn’t set out intentionally to kiss Florence. It had just happened. But it had shaken him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this: like a teenager who finally summoned up the courage to risk being knocked back by the girl he’d liked for ages and kissing her.
Florence hadn’t knocked him back.
And he hadn’t known her for ages, just for a couple of weeks.
He needed to be sensible. Like his twin. He remembered the deal they’d made. Be more Ollie. What would Oliver do now? He’d dance with his colleagues and his colleagues’ partners, he’d make small talk, and he’d smile a lot. OK. It was a plan. A good plan. Rob followed it to the letter.
But, all the while, he was so aware of exactly where Florence was in the room. Moth to a flame, magnet, any cliché you wanted to pick: it was a mash-up of all of them. The end result was the same. There was a definite connection between them, and he wanted to explore it and find out what it meant. At the same time, he wanted to back off. And he wasn’t used to being confused like this. He worked in emergency medicine, and all his favourite pastimes needed the same ability he needed at work: to be able to assess a situation and make a fast, informed decision. No dithering.
So why was he dithering now? Why was he such a mess?
Rob had planned to be sensible and say a cheerful goodnight to Florence at the end of the evening, just as he had with his other colleagues, but what came out of his mouth was something different. ‘Do you have to rush off, or could you stay and have a drink with me?’
‘The hotel’s closing,’ she said, her gorgeous brown eyes looking huge in the low light.
‘Not for residents.’
She looked surprised. ‘You’re staying here tonight?’
‘Yes.’ It had been his back-up plan so, if the bone-deep tiredness that still occasionally hit him kicked in, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting back to his rented flat. Not that he was going to tell her about any of that. ‘Come and have a drink with me at the bar,’ he said.
‘A nightcap?’
Would she stay? Or would she back off? He wanted her to stay; but at the same time he wasn’t used to reacting to someone like this. And his mouth felt so dry he couldn’t speak. He just nodded.
‘All right. I’ll have a glass of wine with you, on condition I buy the drinks.’
Funny how that made him feel like punching the air. Not that he’d be stupid enough to do that in front of her. Relief loosened his tongue again. ‘I don’t think they’ll let you pay. The bar is for residents only,’ he said with a smile. ‘Though you can buy me a coffee some time next week instead, if it makes you feel better.’
What?
Why had he said that, as if he was setting up a date?
But she didn’t run a mile. She just nodded. ‘It’s a deal.’
He found them a table in a quiet corner of the bar, checked what she wanted to drink, and bought them both a glass of dry white wine. And, while they chatted, he found himself watching her while she sipped her wine. Remembering how that mouth had felt against his, the warmth and the pressure and the sweetness. He wanted it to happen all over again. Wanted to kiss her back. Wanted to feel her melt into him.
When he caught her eye, she blushed. So was she thinking the same? Was she remembering how it had felt to kiss him? Did she want more?
She put her glass down. ‘I should go.’
That would be sensible. But before he could stop himself, he said, ‘Though there’s another option.’ His pulse kicked up a notch at the very thought of it, making him catch his breath and knocking all his common sense out of his head. ‘You could stay.’
‘Stay.’
She’d clearly just remembered that he had a room. Somewhere they could be private. Somewhere they could explore what was happening between them.
He could see the argument warring in her expression—should she stay, or should she go? What was holding her back? Did she think it would be difficult between them at work?
‘If it makes a difference,’ he said, ‘this would be just between you and me, until we’re both sure where this is going.’
There was a long, long pause.
Finally, she asked, ‘And if I decide to stay?’ There was the tiniest, tiniest crack in her voice.
Did she feel as nervous as he did?
He wanted to reassure her, yet at the same time he needed to let her know that he wanted her. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t planning this.’ It was crazy. He was used to making fast decisions—good decisions—but they were judgements based on past experience.
This felt new. Like a step into the unknown. And it made him catch his breath.
Or maybe the admission was the reassurance she needed: that he felt as much at sixes and sevens as she did. Because then she smiled. ‘Yes.’
One little word.
And it made all the difference.
He stood up in silence and stretched his hand out to her. She stood up, took his hand, and walked to the lift with him.
The lift was surprisingly small, only just big enough for both of them to fit. Once the doors had closed behind them, Rob cupped her face gently in his hands and brushed his mouth lightly against hers.
She shivered when he broke the kiss.
‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,’ he said softly, ‘but life throws curveballs as well as good things. And nowadays I’m minded to catch the good things.’
‘Me, too,’ she said, and the look on her face told him she’d had some hard curveballs in the past.
He took her hand as they left the lift and kept holding it all the way down the corridor.
Please don’t let the card key fail him and break the understanding between them. Please let them stay in this glorious, shiny bubble. Just the two of them and this shimmery feeling.
To his relief, his card key worked first time. He opened the door, stood aside to let her go into the room first, then slid the card into the slot by the light.
The lamp in the corner of the room was the only one lit, and she looked suddenly nervous as she perched on the edge of the chair. Yeah. He knew how that felt.
‘You can change your mind,’ he reassured her quietly. ‘I can call you a taxi. There’s no pressure to do anything you don’t want to do, Florence.’
Giving her the choice seemed to decide her. ‘Or there’s another option,’ she said, her voice husky.
His heart skipped another beat. ‘What might that be?’
She stood up, closed the gap between them and kissed him.
It felt as if fireworks were going off in his head, splinters of gold and silver and starlight. As if he’d c
ome back to life again after all these months of being stuck. She didn’t see him as a patient; she saw him as a man. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. And this was going to happen.
When he broke the kiss, he turned her round and undid the zip of her dress, kissing his way down her spine as he did so.
She gave a little wriggle. He wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or awkwardness, so he erred on the side of caution and turned her back round to face him. ‘Everything all right?’ he checked.
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ He kissed her lightly, then eased the dress over her shoulders and let it pool on the floor.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered, and traced the lacy edge of her bra with one finger.
She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, and his pulse speeded up.
‘You’re fully dressed. I think we need to even up the balance,’ she said.
‘I’m in your hands,’ he said.
She struggled a bit with his bow tie, but finally managed it. His shirt was next, and he found breathing difficult as she undid each button, her fingers brushing against his skin and sending little shocks of pleasure across his nerve-ends.
Waiting wasn’t something he was good at; but if he rushed her now he knew she’d back away and he’d never have another chance. So he let her set the pace, let her fingers explore the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles of his back. Every stroke, every touch drove him crazy with need. He was practically quivering when she stopped. ‘Florence?’
Please don’t let her call a halt. He took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed each fingertip in turn. ‘I’m trying to let you set the pace,’ he said. ‘But my self-control is shredding by the second. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.’
* * *
Oh, the things that rueful smile did to her insides.
Rob Langley was charming, and he knew it.
But he was also sexy as hell, and Florence wanted him. The way she’d felt when he’d danced with her—it had been a long, long time since she’d felt like that. For a couple of years before her marriage had turned bad, if she was honest about it. And she wanted to feel like that again. Come back out of the cold loneliness of her life. Let him heat her blood to boiling point.
He’d given her the control.
Time to make it snap.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
Things went a bit fuzzy after that. The next thing Florence knew, they were lying on the bed together, both naked. She had absolutely no idea who had removed whose clothes and when. And it wasn’t because she’d drunk too much wine: it was Rob’s touch that made everything else feel irrelevant. Rob was kneeling between her thighs and kissing his way down her body, nuzzling the hollows of her collar bones, working his way downwards to tease each nipple in turn, then kissing his way down over her abdomen.
All Florence could think of was the way he made her feel. The warmth spreading through her as he stroked her skin, teased her with his mouth and his hands until she was quivering and nearly hyperventilating with need. She wanted him so much, it made her head spin.
Her climax shimmered through her unexpectedly. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like, that rush of pleasure bubbling through her.
‘OK?’ he asked.
‘Very OK.’ She couldn’t help grinning.
He grinned back. ‘Good. I wanted the first time to be for you.’
An unselfish lover. Something Dan hadn’t been when their marriage had been exploding. Sex had been more like fighting. The memory made her catch her breath; but it wouldn’t be fair to dump this on Rob now. So she made herself smile as if nothing was wrong.
The brittleness must’ve shown, though, because he kissed her very gently—reassuring, not demanding. ‘You can still change your mind.’
‘No, it’s...complicated,’ she said.
‘There’s someone else?’
She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t do that. Just...a bit of baggage. Unwanted baggage. Ignore it.’
‘Better than that. I’ll try to make you forget it,’ he said softly. He kissed her again, and aroused her with his hands and his mouth until she was quivering with need; it shocked her how desperately she wanted this. He ripped open the foil packet, slid on the condom, knelt between her thighs and eased into her. He waited for her to adjust to the feel of him inside her, and then he began to move.
The waves of pleasure built again and she wrapped her legs round him, drawing him deeper.
This time, they hit the peak at the same time, and they held each other tightly until the little aftershocks had died away.
‘Better deal with the condom,’ he said, gently disentangling himself, and headed for the en suite bathroom.
Was this her cue to leave?
It had been so long since she’d done anything like this. She couldn’t remember what the etiquette was. Did she get dressed and leave? Or did she stay?
She was still trying to work her way through the dilemma when he came back from the bathroom. And that was when she noticed the scar on his lower abdomen. It was in the same place as she’d expect to see a scar from an appendectomy, but the colour of the skin made the scar look newer than he’d said it was.
Clearly he realised what she was seeing, because he grimaced. ‘Sorry. I should’ve put a towel round me or something.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not that. It looks...new.’
* * *
He could trust her—or he could back away.
He took a deep breath while he thought about it, then decided. ‘OK. Short version: I had a kidney transplant back in June. My consultant cleared me to go back to work part time, so I’m easing myself back into things. That’s why I’m only doing three days a week on the ward.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘A kidney transplant is a pretty major thing.’
He sighed. ‘I know. The head of department knows about it but we agreed to keep it between us. I don’t want people thinking I’m weak or I can’t do my job.’
‘Why would they think that?’
‘Because...’ He sighed. ‘Because that’s how I’ve felt for months, being unable to do anything I’d normally do. I’ve hated people treating me as if I’m fragile. That’s not who I am.’
‘Definitely not a delicate little flower,’ she agreed.
‘Are you...?’ She was. That little glimmer in her eyes. She was teasing him. All the fight went out of him. He gave her a rueful smile. ‘No. Though I’m kind of behaving like one. It’s just...you’ve seen me as me. I don’t want that to change.’
‘I’m not going to judge you,’ she said. ‘It sounds to as me as if you’re already doing quite enough of that for yourself.’
‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘It’s messed with my head, not being able to do what I’ve always done. Feeling as if I’ve been stuffed into a box that gets smaller every day.’
‘Tell me,’ she said softly. ‘It isn’t going any further than me.’
‘I’ve already worked out for myself that you’re not a gossip.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Just for the record, I didn’t tell anyone what I heard you say about your appendix.’
‘Thank you.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I was volunteering for a humanitarian aid organisation, helping out after an earthquake. I have skills that can be useful and I like working in challenging situations. I’d been feeling a bit rough, but I put that down to a change in water and food.’ He shrugged. ‘It turned out it was my appendix, which then ruptured. I ended up with severe blood poisoning and it wiped out my kidneys. I was on dialysis for a while.’ And he’d felt every second dragging by, slower than a glacier scraping across a valley. ‘I needed a transplant. Ollie—my brother—was a live donor and gave me one of his kidneys.’
‘That’s an amazing thing to do for someone,’ she said.
‘I know. He’s an amazing man.’ He looked at her. ‘And I appreciate you listening.’
‘No problem.’ She looked at him. ‘So what now?’
‘Now I’ve completely ruined the mood?’
‘I was the one who brought up the subject,’ she said. ‘So you can’t take the entire blame.’
‘I guess,’ he said wryly. ‘I can call you a taxi, if you’d like. Or...’ He took a deep breath. ‘Or you can stay. Fall asleep with me. Let go and forget the world, just for a little while. Just you and me. No baggage.’
It was tempting.
So very, very tempting.
After all, what did she have to go back to? An empty flat that still didn’t feel like home. Or she could stay here, curl up in the arms of the man who’d just made her feel so amazing. Forget everything that had made her miserable in the last few years. Enjoy this warmth and closeness, just for a while. No promises, no complications.
The decision was easy.
‘I’ll stay,’ she said.
He smiled, and helped her tidy up their clothes, before taking her hand and drawing her back to bed. He lay on his back, and she curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her fingers entwine loosely with his.
She’d worry about tomorrow later.
Tonight, she’d just be.
CHAPTER THREE
THE NEXT MORNING, Florence woke, feeling warm and comfortable. It took a moment for her to realise she wasn’t in her own bed. And another to realise that a body was cuddled round hers, an arm wrapped round her and keeping her against him. And another to remember the night before: dancing with Rob, kissing him, making love...
Which meant she’d just made her life complicated.
They hadn’t actually made any promises to each other.
