Читать книгу Playing the Playboy's Sweetheart - Carol Marinelli - Страница 8

HUGH LINTON CAME with a warning attached.

Emily hadn’t even put on her scrubs for her first shift as theatre nurse at The Royal—a busy London hospital—before being told by Louise, one of the other nurses, that the surgical registrar who was operating this Monday morning was, by anyone’s standards, a heartbreaker.

‘Is Candy very upset?’ Louise asked a colleague as she tucked her long blonde hair into her hat.

‘What do you think?’ came the response. ‘I just saw her in the canteen, crying her eyes out with a little crowd gathered!’ She smiled at Emily. ‘I’m Annie.’

‘Hi, Annie,’ Emily said, but Annie was already back talking to Louise.

‘Mind you,’ Annie continued, ‘I don’t get why she’s carrying on so much—surely everyone should know that if you go into any sort of a relationship with Hugh it’s going to be fleeting at best, heartbreak at worst.’

‘Watch yourself.’ Louise winked at Emily.

‘No need to,’ Emily said, ‘because he shan’t be breaking mine!’ But though she had laughed as she’d said it, in fact she wasn’t joking.

Emily loathed anything remotely fleeting and no one would get close enough to break her heart. She had decided that many, many years ago.

Still, she was somewhat sideswiped by Hugh Linton’s exceedingly good looks because when he first walked into the operating theatre Emily found out first-hand what the word ‘presence’ meant.

He was very tall and his hair was as blond as Emily’s was dark. He had the greenest eyes that she had ever seen and his voice was deep and clear, the type who rarely needed to repeat themselves. His smile, as he chatted with Louise and then caught Emily’s eye, did make a slight blush spread across Emily’s cheeks and confirmed what she already knew—Hugh Linton was far from her ideal man!

‘Morning, everyone!’ Alex, the senior consultant, came in, having just been in to have a last word with the patient before surgery. ‘It’s going to be a long one,’ he warned as he went off to scrub.

The operation was for the removal of an abdominal tumour in a twenty-six-year-old man. It was a complex tumour and before the operation commenced and the patient was brought in, Alex explained why he was doing open surgery as opposed to keyhole, which was his speciality. Then there was time for a little chat.

‘I’ve already heard about your weekend, Hugh,’ Alex said, as he was helped into his gown and gloves. ‘I’ve heard about it from several sources, in fact, and so I don’t need to hear it again.’

Hugh just grinned.

All joking was cast aside, however, when the patient was opened up and the tumour was found to be worse than Alex had been expecting.

Emily was, this morning, the circulation nurse, a part of which meant ensuring the operating field was uncontaminated as well as accounting for equipment. Emily loved most roles in Theatre but circulation or scrub nurse were her two favourites and today it was nice to watch how the surgeons worked from a distance, so she could know their nuances when she scrubbed in.

‘Not good,’ Alex said, once he had opened the patient and taken a good look around. ‘We’re going to be here for a few hours, Rory,’ he said to the anaesthetist.

It was a very long and intricate operation but it went very smoothly, even with a difficult turn of events—though not for the patient. Instead, there was unexpected news for the chief surgeon.

‘Alex, Jennifer is on the phone,’ Louise said, and Emily watched as Alex paused and frowned.

‘Bring the phone over to me.’

Louise held the phone to Alex’s ear and Emily glanced over at Hugh, who was looking at his boss as he spoke to his wife—she had clearly asked not to be put through.

‘Well, they’re under my instructions to put you through if you call,’ Alex said, and then listened for a moment. ‘I’m here for a couple more hours at least,’ Alex said, and then listened some more. ‘Okay, darling, please keep me informed. I love you.’

When Louise turned off the phone Alex was quiet for a moment before revealing his news. ‘Jennifer’s up on the delivery ward.’

‘When is she due?’ Hugh asked.

‘Not for another six weeks.’ He carried on working. ‘How long do fourth babies take, Louise?’ he tossed out to the runner. ‘Small ones?’

‘Hopefully more than two hours.’ Louise answered his black humour with her own. ‘I’m a midwife as well,’ she explained to Emily.

Theatre was an intricate and complicated world.

Every swab was counted, every pause noted, every instrument’s date of sterilisation checked, not a single blade or needle went unnoted—a seemingly seamless task but it was the black box of surgery and one that required a whole lot of effort from the first to the last in the room.

A small pause in proceedings ensued as Alex and Hugh had a drink of water and then re-gloved then they got back to work and Alex somehow did what he had to and concentrated on the patient.

There was no rushing.

For the young man on the table Alex Hadfield’s work was his very best chance at life. Emily watched as Alex explained things to Hugh and carried on as if his wife wasn’t in premature labour halfway down the corridor, but close to midday he looked over at Hugh.

‘I can take it from here,’ Hugh said, as Louise took a phone call.

‘I have your wife on the phone,’ Louise said, and Alex pulled of his gloves and took the phone and told Jennifer that he was on his way.

‘Oi,’ called Hugh as Alex walked off. ‘Don’t we get to know?’

But Alex was gone.

Hugh asked for a swab count before he closed, as was procedure.

Then he asked for another one.

Emily took no offence.

The operation had been interrupted, and she was also new.

Emily took absolutely no offence and counted again all the swabs and the instruments carefully.

It was her job to do so.

‘Thanks,’ Hugh said as, satisfied nothing was amiss, he started to close.

Lunch was very welcome but Emily found herself concentrating on more than her food when Hugh took a seat near her.

He smelt fantastic—somehow crisp even after hours spent operating—and his long outstretched legs were far too easy on the eye.

Oh, he was so far from ideal!

Emily’s ideal man came with some very specific prerequisites—looks didn’t matter, she would prefer that he was serious and that he didn’t make her laugh too much.

Neither must Emily’s perfect man imbue in her a sudden desire to get naked.

No, Emily’s perfect man was perfectly nice if somewhat staid.

In her ideal world they would have sex on Saturdays, more out of obligation than necessity—occasionally on Tuesday if Emily was on a late shift the next day and there was nothing good on television.

‘You’re new?’ Hugh said.

‘Emily has been working here for a year now!’ Louise, the nurse who had warned Emily about him in the changing room, quipped. ‘How rude that you haven’t noticed her before.’

It was just a small exchange, a teeny bit of fun, but Emily felt a slight flutter of unease as his green eyes told her that he certainly had noticed!

‘Emily Jackson,’ she said.

Hugh certainly had noticed her—from her pale blue eyes to her creamy skin. He wanted to know if the dark curl that peeked from beneath her theatre hat came from long or short hair and Emily’s soft Scottish accent also had him curious.

‘How long have you been in London?’ Hugh asked. ‘It can be a bit daunting at first.’ He was about to suggest that he could show her around perhaps when she interrupted him with a slightly wry smile.

‘I guess it was at first but I’ve been living here for years now, so I’m completely undaunted.’

She had meant to shut him down but Hugh had merely smiled. ‘Really?’

Let the flirting begin, his eyes said.

Except Emily refused to go there.

Quite simply, he daunted her.

Hugh took a phone call and his face broke into a smile. He offered his congratulations and then told everyone the good news. ‘It’s a little girl and her name is Josie and she’s doing very well.’

‘How much did she weigh?’ Louise asked.

‘I forgot to ask,’ Hugh admitted, and then stood. ‘I’d better go—a hernia repair awaits me.’ He turned and smiled at Emily. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘Same,’ Emily said, and she smiled but, and Hugh couldn’t quite get it, there was something about her smile that he could not put his finger on. It was pleasant, friendly even and yet … he could not find the word.

The afternoon list flew by and Hugh was just about to head up to the wards to check on his postoperative patients when he found out about the hair beneath her theatre cap.

Emily’s hair was long, thick, dark and curly. Without the shapeless theatre scrubs Hugh also noticed a curvy figure dressed in jeans, a heavy jacket and long boots.

‘See you,’ Hugh said.

‘Have a good night.’ There was that smile again and Hugh found the word he was looking for.

Sparing.

It was an incredibly cost-effective smile—it did its job but no more than that.

Already he wanted more.

No doubt Emily had been warned about him, Hugh reasoned, because he had felt the coolness of her brushoff. Or perhaps she was already involved with someone?

Still, even with Emily’s best efforts to deny that he moved her, the sparks flew between them whenever they were in Theatre together. So much so that at a Christmas work party a few weeks later Emily was relieved when Gina, an anaesthetist, offered her a lift back to her flat from the party, though she warned Emily that she was leaving in fifteen minutes.

With that deadline in mind, knowing she had a legitimate reason to leave soon, when Hugh offered to get Emily a drink she didn’t refuse.

‘Just a small one,’ Emily said, handing him her glass. ‘I’m going soon and I don’t want to miss my lift.’

Hugh returned with her drink a short while later and an offer too. ‘I can give you a lift if you want to stay a bit longer.’

Emily shook her head. ‘I have to be up early—I’m going up to Scotland tomorrow.’

‘Have you got family there?’

‘My mum.’ Emily nodded. ‘And quite a bit of extended family too.’

‘Do you have family here in London?’

Emily nodded again. ‘When my parents broke up my dad moved to England …’ Emily hesitated; she didn’t want to remember that time, moving in with dad’s girlfriend Katrina and her daughter Jessica. It actually hurt to recall those events so she hurriedly glossed over them. ‘I used to come down a lot to visit.’

‘How much?’

‘Half the school holidays, but when I left school I moved permanently down here to do nursing.’

‘I see.’

‘You don’t!’ Emily rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, we’d be here till next week if I tried to explain it.’

‘I’m fine with that.’

There was a sudden plummet in Emily’s stomach as they moved deeper into conversation; she looked into very green eyes that, though smiling, for Emily spelt danger.

‘So,’ Hugh asked, ‘will you be in Scotland for Christmas?’

‘No.’ Emily shook her head. ‘I’m working, new girl and all that.’

She chose not to tell him that she preferred to work at Christmas. It was always a painful time. Whether she spent it at her mother’s or father’s, Emily always felt like a bit of a spare wheel. Her mum and second husband doted on Abby, their daughter together. As for her dad, he was now married to his latest—Donna—and was a father to one-year-old twins.

Yes, it was far too complicated to explain it all to Hugh.

‘So what are you doing for Christmas?’ Emily asked instead.

‘I’ll be at my parents’,’ Hugh said. ‘My sister has just had a baby, first grandchild …’ He gave a teeny eye-roll. ‘I’m to be on my best behaviour and not upset Kate.’

‘Your sister?’

‘Yep,’ Hugh said.

‘You don’t get on?’

‘We do get on,’ Hugh corrected, ‘usually.’

He was the easiest person she had ever spoken to and for Hugh it was the same. He had tried to talk to Alex yesterday about his sister Kate and had asked how Jennifer was doing, given that their babies had been born around the same time. Hugh had been told that Jennifer was coping beautifully, despite Josie being her fourth and prem.

Hugh had said nothing then about his concerns for his sister, though he voiced them easily now.

‘I think she’s got postnatal depression.’ Hugh said to Emily what he hadn’t to his boss. ‘But I have no idea apparently.’ Hugh sighed. ‘At least, according to my mother, my father, my brother-in-law, oh, and Kate too.’

‘It’s difficult,’ Emily said. ‘I remember when Donna had the twins …’ She faltered and Hugh noticed.

‘Donna?’

‘My dad’s second wife.’

She had tried so hard not to go there but now that she had she told him a bit more. ‘When they were born I had to help out a lot. I was ever so worried.’ She thought for a moment about Hugh’s situation. ‘Can you try talking to her husband again?’

‘I might.’ Hugh nodded. ‘What did your dad do?’

‘Not much.’ Emily gave a tight smile. She could hardly tell Hugh she had been worried that if things didn’t improve, and quickly, that her dad would have been out of the door.

‘So, what did you do?’

‘I took her to see her GP,’ Emily said. ‘I rang them and explained my concerns and then made the appointment for her and took her. Things did pick up. It took a while, but they did.’

Yes, things had picked up. Emily had done everything she could to not fall in love with her two half-brothers, but getting up at night, bathing them, feeding them, of course she had.

‘How is she now?’

Emily chose not to answer.

‘I’d better go.’

‘Emily?’

She didn’t want to answer, she didn’t want to say that, yes, while Donna was fine now, she wasn’t so sure that the marriage was.

‘Stay for a bit longer,’ Hugh pushed.

She didn’t want to, though, because she opened up too easily to him.

Fleeting.

She recalled Annie’s words.

Heartbreak.

Neither of those did she need.

She wanted her perfect man—one that meant she could hold onto her heart.

Right now that heart was hammering in her chest and very possibly about to be set free if that lovely, sexy mouth moved just a few inches closer, which it was possibly about to do.

‘I really do have to go …’ Emily chose to play it safe.

‘Why?’

‘I told you—I don’t want to miss my lift.’

‘And I told you—I’m very happy to drive you home.’

Hugh had more than noticed Emily and had hoped to get to know her some more tonight.

In the weeks she had been at The Royal she had intrigued him—Emily was friendly yet distant at the same time, and not just with him. Yes, she chatted easily with her colleagues and there was no doubt she was an extremely efficient nurse yet, and Hugh couldn’t quite put his finger on it, she held back, really revealing nothing.

Until tonight.

That small sliver of information about her parents had Hugh wanting to know more about Emily.

She was a curious girl, Hugh thought.

Something told him there was a lot more going on in that sensible head of hers and her cool exterior told Hugh that the full force of his charm would not be welcomed just yet.

Yes, his intention had been to take things very slowly until Gina called Emily’s name.

‘Emily!’

Hugh watched as she turned to the sound of her name but this time it was Hugh’s stomach that plummeted as he realised that it was Gina who would be driving Emily home.

Just yesterday Hugh had voiced his concerns about Gina to Alex and then Mr Eccleston, the head of anaesthetics. The decision as to whether or not to speak with Gina’s boss had been eating at him for weeks. Hugh had been through medical school with Gina—they were good friends and he had always looked out for her.

But he had to look out for the patients first.

He could not turn his back so had voiced his concerns and the truth was tonight he wasn’t sure that Gina hadn’t been drinking, or even if she was on something else.

All he knew now was that he could not let Emily get into a car with Gina and, given the delicate nature of his complaint, neither could he share his concerns with Emily. He instead chose to act on the undeniable sexual tension between them.

‘I’m taking you home.’

His words were very decisive and Emily looked back at him. An alarm was ringing in her head, warning her to just walk away now, except there was something else signalling louder.

Instinct.

She had never been more aware of it. Simply, her instinct told her to accept the kiss that was nearing.

‘Emily!’ They could both hear Gina calling her name again, but this time it seemed to be coming from a very long way off.

She caught the fresh tang of him, a scent that had remained trapped in her senses since the first day they had met. Oh, where was her perfect man when she needed him? The one that didn’t move her so.

Hugh lowered his head and his mouth brushed hers. Soft and warm, it made her own lips want to part like the Red Sea but she somehow held them closed. Except that meant she inhaled his scent, and the scent of Hugh was possibly more potent so she borrowed the wall behind her to lean on. His lips were more insistent now, nudging hers as his hands held her face, and finally their mouths commenced their first dance—a gentle dance at first to accustom themselves, then a playful dance that began to tease, but when their tongues met it was like an accelerant.

Hugh actually felt the shift. One minute they were kissing and the next their mouths belonged to each other. The party disappeared, the only noise was them—cool to his words she was hot to his mouth, Hugh felt as if he’d tripped and found a portal as he held the passion that burned in his arms. His hands left her face and moved to her hips without thought and were made very welcome for her bottom left the wall and the press of her body was as suggestive as his.

He pulled back but only because to continue would have them on the edge of indecent. Emily could taste his breath, see his lips wet from hers and she wanted to be back there now, yet she resisted the call of her body and moved her hips away from him.

Oh, it wasn’t that Hugh was bad that terrified her, it was that he was so, so good.

‘I really do have to go.’

She moved to the side and slipped past, and Hugh watched as she walked off, both trying to get his breath back and trying to ignore the fact he had been dismissed. Then he smothered the smile that came to his lips when Louise told Emily that Gina had just gone. ‘She said you looked busy.’

There was a flush on Emily’s cheeks but it wasn’t from embarrassment, it was from arousal by the man who was now by her side.

‘Let’s go.’

It could have been an awkward ride home except Emily knew that she was possibly approaching the ride of her life.

Never, in all her twenty-three years had a man detonated her the way Hugh had.

His hand was on her thigh as they drove and she took no offence for hers was on his and it was suggestive down to her fingernails in a way she had never been before. The relief when he turned off the engine at the same time as he pulled up the handbrake had her snap off her seat belt in haste to return to his mouth.

‘Emily …’ His hand was up her skirt like two out-of-control teenagers and the spinning wheels in her head slowed as he halted. ‘Not here.’

She was going to ask him in.

Sex.

Brilliant, sex and, and …

Emily pulled back her head and denied instinct.

‘I’m going in …’

‘Sure.’ Hugh would, of course, rather she asked him in too but, well, this would be so worth the wait.

She watched his mouth move and offer dinner, a catch-up next week, though his hand between her thighs told her it would definitely end in bed and it was time to bring things to a halt.

‘Hugh.’ She let out a breath. ‘I don’t know …’ She changed tack. ‘It’s just …’ How could she deny the want that thrummed between them? For Emily there was but one thing left to do so she came up with a rapid lie. ‘I’m seeing someone.’

‘Oh.’

‘Gregory.’

‘It’s fine, I get it …’ Though he didn’t. Poor Gregory, Hugh thought as he reclaimed his hand, because five minutes from now he’d have had her knickers off.

‘He’s in Scotland, so we don’t see each other as much as—’

‘You really don’t need to explain.’

And so the phantom Gregory was born.

When her father and Donna broke up in the New Year it was to Gregory she turned, rather than Hugh, though they did touch on it once, because Hugh came into the staffroom when Emily was on the phone.

‘Donna, I get it that you have issues with my father but I don’t understand what that has to do with me. If you don’t want to see me that’s fine but can I just take the twins to the park or for an ice cream every now and then …?’ She turned in her chair and saw that Hugh had come in just as Donna told her that, no, she’d prefer Emily didn’t have extra contact with the twins—she could see them when her father bothered to.

‘Is she not letting you see the twins?’ Hugh asked when she came off the phone.

‘I can see them when they’re with my dad, which isn’t very often. I asked if I could take them out at the weekend but it unsettles them apparently.’

‘Can she do that?’

‘Of course she can.’ Emily stood and went to walk past but Hugh caught her arm.

‘Emily?’

‘What?’

‘Do you want …?’ Hugh didn’t really know what he was offering.

Emily did.

Yes, she did want.

She wanted to burst into tears, she wanted him to take her out and not cheer her up, just share …

She wanted to share with him.

Emily looked down at the fingers that still held her wrist.

Oh, he could hurt her, Emily thought, and then looked up to his eyes. He could really, really hurt her.

‘I’ll sort it out,’ Emily said. ‘Gregory is going to try and speak with her.’

At the mention of Gregory his hand disengaged from her arm.

For the next three months, every time Emily went to visit her mother Hugh was brought up to speed through vague conversations. However, just as he was starting to wonder about the fact that Gregory never seemed to come down to London, Emily actually found her perfect guy for real, so Gregory was swiftly dumped.

Marcus was perfect.

Dark haired, terribly serious, he was a social worker at the hospital and liked to hike at weekends. Sex happened on Saturdays, occasional Tuesdays, and Emily developed solid calf muscles from trips up hillsides.

It was perfect for close to two years when the breaking news arrow shot across the hospital grapevine that Marcus had been found in a compromising position in the X-ray department with Heidi, the Swedish radiographer.

Hugh, now a senior registrar and going out with Olivia by then, expected tears in the staffroom, blushes and drama—the usual type of thing that happened with a very public break-up. With Emily that didn’t happen, though …

Oh, she was a curious thing.

Emily just shrugged it off and got on with work.

The very next Monday they stood in Theatre and Emily glanced up as the alarm went off on the cardiac monitor when the anaesthetised patient kicked off a few ectopic heartbeats.

‘All fine,’ Rory, the anaesthetist, called as the patient’s heart steadied back into a regular rhythm.

There were no flashing lights, no drama—it was hardly an event really.

And that was just how Emily liked things.

It was how she kept control.