Читать книгу The Midwife's One-Night Fling: The Midwife's One-Night Fling / Baby Miracle in the ER - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 13

CHAPTER THREE

RICHARD LEWIS REALLY was stunning.

Even asleep he managed to bring a little skip to Freya’s heart when she walked in and saw him, lying across several chairs in the staff room.

Pat and Kelly were deep in conversation there, and didn’t seem bothered in the least by the sight of Richard sprawled out.

It bothered Freya—or rather it bothered her senses. She tried not to peek as she stirred her soup, but she didn’t try very hard because her eyes kept wandering over.

He hadn’t shaved again, and Freya knew he must have been working all night. It was now late morning.

She had been at the Primary for a month now, and he was no less intriguing and no less gorgeous.

During the course of her working week Freya saw him regularly. He had a new registrar, who wasn’t yet able to do epidurals unsupervised, so Richard was in L&D quite often to oversee his work. And he was always called if there was a difficulty with a delivery or a Caesarean.

There was rarely time for conversation, though.

Freya considered the Maternity Unit here extremely busy, but his workload was incredible. He rushed to emergencies all over the hospital—and that was aside from Theatre and patients in the ICU.

Of course there were many anaesthetists in such a busy hospital, but Freya, despite her warnings to herself, was only interested in one!

Her instincts had been right. He was a heartbreaker, indeed. She had found that out from the other midwives. Not that they’d actually confided in her! No—she was still struggling to fit in. But she had overheard a couple of conversations, and apparently he’d just ended a brief fling with a nurse in Casualty. And Von, one of the other midwives, was still hoping that she and Richard might get back together.

She looked over at him. He needed a shave and a haircut. Or rather he might think that if he looked in the mirror, but to Freya he looked just fine.

Better than fine!

He was like a bear, Freya thought. Not a fat bear, more like a bear just out of hibernation, all slender and restless and hungry.

And then she smiled at her mad thoughts.

Pat was chatting to Kelly about the film that Freya still hadn’t seen. ‘I was thinking I might go this weekend,’ Pat said.

‘You have to,’ said Kelly. ‘It’s amazing.’

Freya again tried to be brave. ‘I’m dying to see it,’ she admitted.

‘You should.’ Kelly looked over and nodded, and then she stood. ‘Come on, Pat. We’d better get back.’

Once they’d gone Freya let out a sigh. Over and over she’d been mentioning that she’d love to go and see the film, but there had been no takers. How much more of a hint was she supposed to give?

She sat staring at the television and took a sip of her revolting packet soup. And then a voice—one she had really come to like—chimed deep and low.

‘I’ll take you to the bloody film.’

She looked over.

‘I can take a hint.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You keep suggesting it every time I’m near. All you have to do ask.’

‘I wasn’t hinting for you to take me!’ Freya said, and actually found herself going red. ‘I was waiting for one of them to ask me along.’

‘You’re too subtle,’ he said, and lay there smiling at her. ‘Poor Freya-no-Friends.’

‘Don’t!’ she said, but she was smiling.

‘You have to invite yourself—or just go along with them.’

‘What? Just turn up? Like a stalker?’

‘Well, maybe not.’

‘I’ve always had friends,’ Freya said, for she had been giving it some considerable thought. ‘But I’ve realised that’s because we all grew up together. I’ve never actually had to make any.’

‘Rubbish,’ he scoffed. ‘You’re saying that because you grew up in a village you all get along?’

‘It’s not a village.’

‘Well, town or whatever,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure there are people you don’t like there. You’re not automatically friends with everyone you grew up with. God, I loathed Derek next door, and we had to play together all the time.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s for another time.’

He stretched and yawned and sat up, more bear-like than ever as he gave himself a sort of shake.

‘I’m starving,’ he said.

‘I’ve got some soup.’

‘No, thanks.’ Richard pulled a face. ‘I’m going to head down to the canteen. What time do you finish?’

She’d thought he must have been joking about going out. ‘Not until nine.’

‘Well, I’m covering for Simon until eight, so I doubt I’ll get away much before then. I’ll meet you at the entrance to Casualty.’

‘I don’t even know if the film’s on,’ Freya said. ‘Or the session time.’

‘Times,’ he corrected. ‘It’s on everywhere. You’re not in Cromayr Bay now, where they have to come and change the reels...’

He was teasing, yet it made her laugh. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Give me your number and if I can I’ll text you if I’m not going to make it. But if I’m not there by a quarter past, just head for home. It’ll mean I’m stuck somewhere—nothing else. I won’t be avoiding you!’

He even turned the subject of her being a little lonely into a smile.

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Freya said, and recited her number. ‘And, no, I won’t be upset if...’ she started, but her voice trailed off as Stella came in.

‘Freya, I know you’re not due back yet, but we’ve got a bit of a rush on.’

‘Of course,’ Freya said, and she stood and finished the last of her soup, a little surprised when Richard spoke again.

‘I’ll see you around nine, then?’

Freya felt her cheeks were a little warm as she walked back round to the unit—because he had made it clear in front of Stella that they were meeting up tonight.

It meant nothing, she told herself. It was just two colleagues going out. If it had been Kelly or Pat or anyone else she wouldn’t be giving it too much thought and Stella was surely the same.

‘See Rose?’ Stella said, and pointed over to Rita, the domestic who had done her orientation with Freya on her first day.

‘Rita,’ Freya corrected as they walked.

‘Rita, then.’ Stella nodded. ‘See how it looks like she’s emptying the rubbish...?’

‘Er...yes,’ Freya answered.

‘Well, she’s not—she’s actually collecting all the discarded hearts...’

Freya pressed her lips together as she realised what Stella meant, and even managed a wry smile as Stella spoke on.

‘Oh, look, she’s going under the bed. Must have found another one. You know how he dashes from one emergency to another?’ She didn’t await Freya’s response. ‘Well, he’s the same with women.’

‘Stella.’ Freya stopped walking and gave her senior a wide smile—because she knew his reputation and because Stella had made her smile. ‘We’re going to the cinema. No more, no less.’

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

* * *

It was a slow evening by Primary Hospital standards, which would have meant a chaotic one back home! But by nine Freya was in the changing room. She took her phone from her locker, as she chose not to have it on her at work, and found herself letting out a breath of relief that there was no text from Richard to say he couldn’t make it.

And then she swallowed, because relief possibly wasn’t the right word.

Freya was nervous about tonight.

She so wanted to make friends.

Only this didn’t feel like any friendship Freya had ever known!

She pulled off her horrible uniform, changed into the grey linen dress and ballet pumps she had worn into work and let her hair down, pulling her curls out with her fingers.

In the end it was actually Freya who was a little late, and when she arrived at the entrance to Casualty he was checking his phone.

He was out of scrubs and in a suit, although minus a tie, and beside him Freya felt rather drab.

She looked far from drab, though. In fact, Richard thought as she walked towards him, she was wearing the same dress she had been on the day they had met.

And that was concerning, because usually he couldn’t recall what any woman had worn the previous night, let alone in previous weeks. He’d even joked to a friend that he’d be hell at reporting a missing person because he’d be unable to tell the police what the missing person was wearing.

He didn’t really notice such things, other than thinking, Oh, she looks nice.

With Freya though he’d be able to describe in detail to any police officer that the dress was grey linen, and it was a touch looser than it had been on the day they had met.

Yes, Officer, she had on black pumps and no stockings, just pale slender legs. And her hair was worn down. It didn’t actually sit on her shoulders since it’s too curly for that, it just holds its wild shape there. And she has green eyes, Officer, and soft full lips.

Anything else? the officer would ask.

Well, she’s been a bit lonely since she arrived here, he would say. I didn’t give it too much thought at the time...

But he was giving it some serious thought now.

Not that he showed his concern. Richard, thanks to his job, was incredibly good at that.

‘Right,’ he said as they headed out onto the street. ‘The film is on at ten, so if we skip all the trailers we’ll have time to go and get something decent to eat. I am sick of eating on the run.’

‘That sounds brilliant.’

‘Are you on in the morning?’ he asked.

Freya nodded.

‘And me.’

And then Freya was delivered another thinly veiled warning as Stella dashed past them to a car in which presumably her husband had come to meet her. ‘Enjoy the film, Freya!’

‘I will,’ Freya called back.

‘Has she been telling tales about me?’ Richard asked as they walked out onto the street.

‘No!’

The street was busy enough that it could have been a Saturday during the day back home, and she was glad it was dark enough that he’d hopefully missed her blush as she lied.

‘Of course she has,’ Richard said. ‘And they’re all true.’

‘Then it’s a good job we’re just heading out to see a film,’ Freya said.

‘Indeed.’

But first they would eat...

‘Is Italian okay?’ he checked, and she nodded as he led them to a very lovely casual-looking restaurant, tucked away from the main street.

Freya only realised just how hungry she was as the gorgeous scents inside hit her, and they were guided to a table looking out onto the street.

‘Can I get you some drinks to start?’ the waiter offered.

‘Freya?’ Richard asked.

‘Just water.’

‘And me,’ Richard said. ‘Sparkling?’

‘Lovely,’ Freya agreed.

The menu was delectable, and she decided on a creamy carbonara, while Richard settled for osso bucco.

‘So,’ he said when their order was in, ‘how are you finding it at the Primary?’

‘It’s fine,’ Freya said, and she saw his eyes narrow. ‘Well, it’s a bit overwhelming. I expected it to be busy, of course, but I didn’t realise it would be quite so full-on.’

‘What was it like where you worked before?’

‘I was in a birthing centre attached to a hospital. We saw the mothers for all their antenatal care, then right up to the postnatal check.’

‘How many deliveries at the centre?’ Richard asked.

‘About a hundred a year. So it’s been a big change for me to come somewhere that averages more than that in a week. Still, I wanted the experience.’

‘You could have got that more locally,’ Richard said, tearing open a bread roll. ‘The Women’s Hospital in Edinburgh surely delivers a similar amount?’

‘Yes,’ Freya agreed. ‘I did a stint there during my training. But I wanted something completely different, and it was sort of now or never.’

‘Are your parents back home?’

‘And my brothers.’ Freya nodded.

‘Do you all get on?’ he asked, because despite himself he wanted to know more. Surely there must be more of a reason she had left—not just in her work, but her home, friends and family too?

‘Oh, yes. I’ve got my own place, but I see plenty of them. The older brother, though they’re both younger than me, has got two children. I delivered the younger one.’

‘I can’t imagine having a sister-in-law, let alone being that close to her.’

‘Don’t you have siblings?’ Freya asked.

‘No, there’s just me.’

‘And are you from London?’

‘Kent.’

‘Do you get back there much?’

‘Now and then,’ Richard said, and then he hesitated.

He rarely spoke about his family, but he felt no sense of her probing beyond what he was comfortable with, and actually he found it was nice to sit and chat.

‘I see my father sometimes, and my mother’s here in London. She’s just got engaged.’ He rolled his eyes, just as their meals were delivered. ‘Again.’

Then came the pepper grinder, and the parmesan cheese, and he thought certainly they would speak about the food now, or the film they were about to see—or even, as Richard usually would, get on with flirting. And yet he was still curious to hear more about her.

‘Do you miss your old job?’

‘Yes and no,’ Freya said. ‘I was often delivering the babies of people I’d been to school with, or their wives. And I know a lot of people around town. And while it’s nice knowing your patients...’

He nodded. ‘My father’s a GP. I know only too well the downside. He was never off duty—even going out for a meal like this he’d be interrupted. The only time I remember him getting away from work was if we went on holiday, and even then patients would call him for advice.’

‘I don’t mind that so much,’ Freya admitted.

Her dismissal of the intrusion aspect of things surprised him.

‘It’s more the fact of everyone knowing everyone else’s business,’ she explained. ‘And of course when a pregnancy goes wrong it’s much harder.’

‘It’s just part of the job,’ Richard said.

‘Yes, but it’s more difficult when you know the patient.’

‘Perhaps...’

To Freya, he didn’t sound as if he necessarily agreed. ‘There’s no perhaps about it.’

He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind. It had been a very long day, and they were here to relax after all.

Still, there was something he really would like to know. ‘Was there a break-up involved?’ he asked.

‘Sorry?’

‘Is that the reason you left—is there an ex-Mr Freya back home...’

‘No!’ She laughed. ‘I’ve never been married, but I did break up with someone earlier in the year. It really didn’t have anything to do with my decision to leave, though.’

‘Are you sure?’ Richard frowned through disbelieving eyes.

She was very guarded and, although they were chatting easily, he sensed she was being prudent in her responses.

For once he wanted to dig for the truth from a woman.

‘Well, it might have had some influence on it,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘There’s nothing much worse than going into a pub or a restaurant and knowing there’s a pretty good chance that your ex will be there. It was a bit messy, I guess.’

‘Who ended it?’

‘Me,’ Freya said. ‘We’d been together for ages and I just...’ She didn’t want to talk about Alison’s baby and the pregnancy that had gone wrong. But it had been that which had heralded the end for her and Malcolm. ‘I was going through a bit of a tough time and he didn’t help matters...’ She gave a thin smile. ‘And so, before even the very curl of his hair started to irk me, I ended it. I guess he wasn’t the love of my life.’

‘There’s no such thing,’ Richard declared. ‘Work is the only love of my life and I intend to remain faithful to that.’

‘How do you do it?’ Freya asked. ‘I know how wrung out I feel after an emergency, and yet you deal with them each day.’

‘It’s my oxygen,’ Richard said. ‘There’s nothing I’d rather be doing. Although,’ he admitted, ‘I don’t want to end up like my father. There has to be a balance. I go away a lot on my days off —try to get well away from the hospital.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘I have some choices that need to be made.’

‘Such as...?’

He gave a small shake of his head that told her not to go there. And when she didn’t push for more information Richard could have reached over and kissed her there and then.

He didn’t, of course, but the thought was there as their eyes locked.

Freya felt the heat spread over her cheeks as their eyes held, and yet she did not tear her gaze away.

God, he was good, Freya thought, for he turned her on without so much as a touch.

And despite her insistence that tonight was about nothing more than seeing a film, she was now heeding Stella’s warnings.

It had been lust at first sight, she knew.

And she would not be acting on it.

Freya wasn’t like that. One boyfriend at the end of school and throughout her nursing training. A gap of two years and then Malcolm.

A fling with a sexy anaesthetist was so not something Freya would do. And it would be a fling, for he’d warned her—was warning her right now—that everything she’d heard about him was true.

So she reached for her water and tried to think of something to say as she peeled her mind away from sex.

Because that was all it would be.

Sex.

Ah, but it would be sex with him.

‘So your mother’s engaged?’ Freya asked. ‘Again?’

He knew she was changing the subject.

Although they were speaking about his family, their minds had just been on sex. He wanted to feel her hair...he wanted to delve into those mixed message eyes.

She almost scalded him with a look, and behind the walls she’d put up there lurked desire.

And he liked her odd sullen moments, interspersed by the brightness of her smile.

But, no, this was not what she needed.

He might have a well-deserved reputation, but he wasn’t an utter bastard.

Freya was by her own admission a little lonely, a touch overwhelmed, and he would not be meddling with that pretty head.

So, back to her question. He had to think for a moment what it was. Ah, yes, the many loves of his mother’s life.

‘My mother is about to enter into her fourth marriage. My father isn’t quite so bad. He’s only been married and divorced twice. I doubt he’ll be taking that step again.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘Thank God! It really is hard coming up with a new speech each time.’

‘Her fourth!’

He nodded. ‘She left us when I was fifteen, and I’m now thirty-three, so it’s not quite as bad as it sounds.’ He saw her wide eyes. ‘Well, maybe it is. My mother is high-end drama and she just wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a country GP. She loathed it. And since she broke up with my father—’

He went quiet, for the first time since they had met. And then...

‘Freya?’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘We’ve missed the film.’

‘Oh!’

She looked around the restaurant and noticed the other diners were thinning out, and then she glanced at her phone. It was coming up for eleven.

‘Do you want dessert or coffee?’ he offered.

‘No, no...’ She shook her head.

He walked her to the Underground station and there, she assumed, they would go their separate ways.

‘I’ll see you home,’ he said, when she told him where it was.

‘It’s only four stops,’ Freya protested—but not too much. She still wasn’t quite used to the Tube, and she did feel a bit nervous at night. It would be nice to have company.

Or rather it would be nice to have his company.

‘We’re here,’ Freya said as they arrived at her flat.

‘Well, I’m sorry you didn’t get to see your film.’

Freya wasn’t sorry.

‘It’s fine,’ she said, toying with whether or not to ask him in and deciding that it would be foolish at best. There was a kiss in the air—she could feel it—and as she looked up at him she wondered how that gorgeous unshaven jaw would feel pressed hard against hers.

‘Well, another time, then,’ Richard said, resisting the urge to kiss her against the wall.

She wanted a friend, he reminded himself. No more than that.

‘Thanks for a nice night. It was good to...’ She gave a shrug. ‘Well, it was nice not to be talking about babies.’

‘All work and no play?’ Richard said.

‘Something like that.’

She took out her key and he watched as she put it into the lock. That was the difference with Freya—she didn’t stand there awaiting his kiss. She didn’t seem to want the complication of them either.

And yet there was want.

It was a sultry summer night that deserved to end in bed, but Richard was behaving himself.

‘Night, Freya.’

‘Night, Richard.’

She walked inside, closed the door behind her and leant against it, taking a long breath in.

Had there been a double-lock she would have turned it. Instead she made do with the security chain.

But only to keep herself in.

There was a kiss waiting on the other side of that door—she was sure of it.

And not just a kiss.

Who was she kidding?

It hadn’t been a kiss in the air out there—it had been sex.

But a fling with Richard Lewis would be foolish at best. Freya didn’t do that type of thing. And it would be a fling—she knew that. He’d as good as told her so himself.

She told herself that she could never regret a sensible decision. That in the morning she would wake up and be delighted that she’d avoided the awkwardness that would have surely followed.

Except in the morning Freya didn’t feel delighted.

She only felt regret.