Читать книгу Tempted by Dr Daisy - Caroline Anderson - Страница 9

WORKWISE, Tuesday was a day like any other.

On a personal level, Daisy thought she was going to go out of her mind. She’d hardly slept, and by the time she arrived on the ward, she’d convinced herself that working with Ben was going to be impossible.

In fact, it was easy.

He greeted her with a smile, and if it hadn’t been for the lingering heat in his eyes, she wouldn’t have known anything had happened between them. It was just business as usual.

No cosy coffees today, just the normal routine of a busy surgical list, including an elective Caesarean on a woman with an old spinal injury who had to have a general anaesthetic rather than an epidural. It was a good chance for him to see what she could do, and he could talk her through it without worrying the patient or her partner.

Although, in fact, he hardly said anything, just nodded reassurance and made the odd suggestion, and then stripped off his gloves and walked out. ‘You’re doing fine. You close, I’m going to get a coffee. Bit of a late night.’

Evil man. Thank God for a mask she could hide her smile behind, and the scrub nurse and anaesthetist deep in conversation about another colleague.

She finished, stripped off her gloves and went out to the staffroom, to find him pouring another coffee and holding it out to her as she approached.

‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Good hands. You remind me of my father.’

‘Is that a good thing?’ she asked, not sure she was flattered.

‘It is if you’re a good vet.’

‘Like James Herriot? All stone barns and stroppy farmers?’

He chuckled. ‘Things have moved on since the forties. You’ve got the makings of an excellent surgeon, though.’

‘Just don’t get me delivering calves.’

The silly banter was just what she needed to take her mind off what had happened last night—or not happened. Except of course the tension between them was still there, the incredible sexual chemistry striking sparks off her every time she was within twenty feet of him. And of all the people for it to happen with—

‘Hey, it’s OK,’ he murmured softly, as if he realised, and then the anaesthetist stuck his head round the door and gave them the thumbs up.

‘She’s round, she’s fine. Ready for the next?’

He got to his feet and went to scrub, and when she’d drained her coffee she joined him and the awkward, sensitive moment was gone.

For now.

Ben closed the front door behind him, rolled his neck and cradled it in his palm, massaging the tight muscles.

He’d been operating most of the day, and on top of lugging boxes all weekend, it was getting to him. Not forgetting lying awake thinking about Daisy all night.

He groaned and shut his eyes. He really, really didn’t need to think about that. It had been difficult enough having to work alongside her all day without coming home and fantasising about her all evening as well.

He put the kettle on, rang the plumber back about the electrician and the plasterer, and made himself a cup of tea. He’d just dropped into a chair in his sitting room to drink it when his mobile rang.

‘So how’s the new house?’

He gave a slightly strangled laugh and looked around at the hideous 1970s wallpaper and the dangling paper on the ceiling. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the trashed kitchen. ‘Let’s just say it’s got potential.’

‘Oops.’

‘Yeah. The bath waste wasn’t properly connected.’

‘And?’

‘I don’t have a kitchen ceiling now.’

‘OK …’ His brother was stifling a laugh, he could tell, and he could feel his own lips twitch.

‘You ought to come up and see it.’

Matt didn’t bother to stifle the laugh then. ‘You have to be kidding. You’ll have me stripping wallpaper and pulling out kitchen units before I’ve taken my coat off,’ he said drily, and then added, ‘So, how’s the job? Any good?’

‘Yes, very good. The SpR’s a bit of an old woman, but the registrar’s excellent. Good team.’

‘And your neighbours? Met them yet?’

‘Ah—yes. Actually, the registrar’s my neighbour. She’s in the other half.’

‘Is she, now?’

Ben closed his eyes and leant back. ‘Yes, she is. And she was very helpful about the leak. I took her out for dinner to say thank you,’ he added rashly, and he heard Matt’s curiosity crank up a notch.

‘And?’

‘And nothing.’

Matt was laughing. ‘Oh, come on, bro, I know you better than that. I thought you were sounding pretty chipper. So let’s have it. What’s her name?’

‘Daisy.’

‘Daisy! What kind of a name is that?’

‘Don’t mock, you’re only jealous.’

‘Ooh, defensive—that’s interesting! So what’s she like?’

‘Average height, curvy, long dark hair, green eyes, sexy mouth—’

‘Really? How sexy?’

Damn. He sighed and shut his eyes. ‘Didn’t mean to say that.’

He heard a low chuckle. ‘I’ll bet. How sexy?’

He gave up. ‘She kisses like a goddess,’ he admitted, and there was a second of startled silence on the other end.

Then, ‘When did you meet her?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘And you know how she kisses? Already? Sheesh, that’s fast work! And she’s a colleague? You’re normally much more circumspect. She must have really lit a fire under you.’

Oh, yes. For all the good it’d do. ‘It’s not going anywhere. You know I’m not in the market for a relationship, Matt, any more than you are.’

‘So who’s talking about a relationship?’ Matt asked with his usual bluntness, and he sighed again.

‘She’s a nice girl, not someone you take to bed for the hell of it.’

‘I thought you grew out of that years ago.’

‘Yeah, well, I nearly forgot.’

Matt blew out his breath. ‘It must have been some kiss.’ He sounded incredulous, and Ben ran a hand round the back of his neck and sighed.

‘Yeah. Big mistake, kissing her. We—uh—we got a bit swept along on the moment, and we shouldn’t have done. I should have had more sense, and I know it’s crazy, and I keep telling myself it can’t go anywhere, but—hell, I was so tempted to stay, Matt. I was that close …’

He heard her front door shut, and shook his head to clear it. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, she’s home now and these walls aren’t exactly soundproof. I think I’m going round there to talk to her—tell her why it can’t ever go anywhere before she gets ideas.’

‘Are you sure it can’t?’ Matt prompted, his voice soft. ‘Maybe it’s time to move on—find some time for yourself.’

And because he wanted it to be otherwise, because he was blown away by Daisy and wanted to be able to follow through but knew he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—Ben bit back.

‘I don’t see you moving on with your life,’ he said, and he heard Matt suck in his breath again.

‘Back off,’ he warned softly.

‘Sorry, ignore me. Well, no, don’t ignore me. Come up here and stay for a few days. It would be really good to see you and I promise I won’t make you strip wallpaper.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it, but I might come anyway, just to get a look at this Daisy. Good luck with her. I’ll look forward to meeting her one day.’

The line went dead, and he stood up and went out to the kitchen with his mug. He’d give Daisy a few minutes to change and feed the cat, and then he’d go round there.

And stop this thing in its tracks.

She wanted a bath. She’d wanted a bath since Sunday night, and nothing that had happened in the meantime had changed that.

She stared at it, sitting there taunting her with its promise of gentle, lapping water and utter relaxation. She still hadn’t unpacked from the weekend, there was washing waiting to go in the machine, and—

‘Oh, damn it,’ she said, and turned on the taps, poured in a generous dollop of bubble bath, and while the delectably indulgent Victorian claw-foot bath filled with water, she put on some music, turned down the lights and lit a scented candle, then dropped her clothes into the laundry basket, stepped into the bath and slid under the bubbles.

‘Oh, yes,’ she groaned. Bliss.

Except she was twitchy. She could hear Ben moving around next door, unpacking probably. He was going to come round, she just knew it, and catching her in the bath really wouldn’t help. She’d have to run down to the front door looking like a drowned rat, and what little was left of her pride would go straight out of the window.

She rinsed her hair in clean water, dragged herself reluctantly out of the bath, dried and picked up her dressing gown. It still had a tea stain all the way down the front, and there was no way she could wear it again until it had been washed. She really had to do her laundry.

She contemplated her baggy old sweats, and then put on jeans and last night’s top, because she just had a feeling he’d be round. No reason. He hadn’t said he would, but better to be prepared. And she resisted the urge to change the top for one he hadn’t seen.

She’d dry her hair, and put on a touch of makeup—just a flick of mascara and some concealer under her eyes to hide the bags, because two nights without sleep showed on her fair skin—and then she’d unpack and tidy her room.

Not that she needed to worry about Ben seeing it, anyway, she thought with irony as she dabbed on the concealer. He’d been the one to walk away, while she’d been teetering on the brink.

And in any case, what on earth was she thinking? She didn’t want him in her bedroom! There was no way she was getting involved with another divorced man, because she was still dealing with the devastating emotional fallout from the last one. And he was her boss! And her neighbour!

‘Huge great big fat no, Daisy,’ she said firmly, and picked up her mascara.

She heard him run downstairs, then the sound of his door closing. A moment later, there was a knock on her own door, and even though she’d tried to convince herself it was the last thing she wanted, her heart raced with anticipation and her hands started to shake.

She put the mascara down before she could poke her eye out, went downstairs and opened the door.

He had flowers. A huge bunch of pure white longiflorum lilies, the scent astonishing, and he held them out to her.

‘Are you trying to soften me up or is this a peace offering for trying to take advantage of my innocence?’ she asked, taking them from him warily, and he felt his mouth kick up in a wry smile. If he’d wanted to take advantage of her innocence, he wouldn’t have had to try very hard, she’d been with him every step of the way …

‘Neither. I thought they’d mask the smell of damp plaster clinging to me.’

She gave a disbelieving little laugh and walked off, and he followed her through the door she’d left open—presumably for him—to the kitchen. She was putting the flowers in a tall vase and fiddling with them, pulling off leaves, trying to arrange the stubborn stems, and he could tell she was nervous.

Why? In case he tried anything again? No way. She was safe on that front, at least.

‘Have you eaten?’ he asked, and she felt her brow crease in a little frown.

‘No. Not yet. I was going to have that ready meal.’ Don’t ask me out again, Ben, please, don’t ask me out.

‘Can I change your mind? I thought maybe we could find a pub somewhere, grab something to eat and have a chat.’

Her stomach fluttered, and she squashed the quiver of anticipation ruthlessly. ‘I don’t really want to go out. I could do with an early night, to be honest,’ she lied, and jammed another lily stem into the vase.

He watched her thoughtfully. ‘Is that, “Ben, sling your hook,” or “I don’t want to go out but we could have a takeaway”?’ he asked, trying to read her body language.

She gave up on arranging the flowers and dumped the vase in the middle of the dining table. ‘Neither. Ben, why are you here?’ she asked a little desperately.

He propped himself up against the table next to her, hands thrust into his trouser pockets, and sighed quietly.

‘I think we need to talk about what happened last night.’

‘Nothing happened last night.’

His laugh was low and mocking. ‘Get real, Daisy. We were that close.’ He held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger almost touching, and she felt heat pooling in her at the memory.

She made herself meet his eyes, and then regretted it, because they were glittering with an intensity that should have terrified her.

It did terrify her.

She looked away. ‘Well, spit it out, then, because you’ve obviously got something to get off your chest,’ she said briskly, and she felt the huff of his quiet laugh against her cheek.

‘It’s—complicated.’

She gave a derisive snort and straightened one of the lily stems. ‘The last man to say that told me he was going back to his wife and family,’ she said drily, and he found himself wondering about the bastard who’d hurt her.

‘I’m not going to say that, exactly.’

She felt relief try and break free, but sensed it was a little early and squashed it. And that ‘exactly’ was hanging in the air like an unexploded bomb. ‘So what are you saying, exactly?’ she prompted. ‘That you’re my boss and it’s a bad idea? You’re divorced? We’re neighbours? I’ve already worked all that out, and I absolutely agree.’

‘I have a daughter,’ he said, dropping the bombshell of all bombshells without preamble. ‘She’s nearly three, and she’s called Florence. That’s why I’m here, why I’m in Yoxburgh. My ex moved back to be near her family and friends, and I’ve followed.’

Here we go again, she thought, and her heart sank. ‘Because you want to get back with her and she won’t play ball?’