Читать книгу The Reunion Of A Lifetime: The Reunion of a Lifetime / A Bride to Redeem Him - Fiona Lowe - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FOLLOWING DAY, the pain in Lauren’s arm was a manageable ache, but who knew bruised ribs bit this much? She’d do something as innocuous as putting a plate in the dishwasher and hot, sharp pain would sear her. It made her wonder at how painful broken ribs must be. From now on she would be far more sympathetic when her patients complained of the same condition.

Moving more slowly than usual, her shower and breakfast had taken longer. Although she had no plans to ever admit this to anyone—especially not to her mother—Lauren had needed to sit and rest for a few minutes after the shower. Lexie had texted, All good here. Will drop around some scripts this afternoon for you to sign.

Sue had telephoned to check in on her, saying, ‘Rest. Lexie and I have everything under control. Peter Li in Surfside is happy to see any sickies and we can work around everyone else.’

Lauren had listened to her mother and murmured appropriately so as not to give Sue any clues that she had no intention of staying home. Today was the day Mackenzie Strickland was coming in for her test results and Lauren was determined to be the one to give them to her. The plan for the day was simple—wait until Sue left on her district nurse round and then drive to the clinic, which was why she was now trying not to flinch as she turned the wheel of her car and pulled into her designated parking spot.

Move slowly, she reminded herself as she cautiously got out of the car. She’d driven past the café on her way and had shivered when she’d seen the police tape. Her mind kept going to the question, what if Charlie had been a second slower in reacting? Last night, her sleep had been broken either by the ache of her ribs or by vivid dreams. All had woken her with a start but she wasn’t sure which dream had scared her the most—the one where fear had gripped her as she was thrown to the ground or the one where she’d snuggled into Charlie’s chest.

This was another reason she was better off at work. Sitting at home gave her too much time to think. She didn’t want to think about how close to death she’d come and she didn’t want to think about Charlie, full stop. ‘Morning.’ She stepped into the clinic, using the side entrance.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lexie’s question was terse with surprise. ‘You’re supposed to be resting.’

‘I’ve rested. I’ve come to sign the scripts and save you a trip.’

‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘I wanted to. Also, I know you cancelled everyone but can you please ring Mackenzie and ask her to come in? I don’t want her to have to wait any longer than—’ Voices drifted up the corridor from the direction of the consulting rooms. ‘Who’s here?’

Lexie, who rarely smiled, did exactly that. ‘Charlie.’

‘Charlie? Charlie Ainsworth?’ she asked inanely, her brain stalling.

‘Of course, Charlie Ainsworth.’ Lexie threw her a look that suggested Lauren had lost her mind. ‘Do you think I’d let Charlie Petroni or Charlie Rogers into the treatment room without a staff member?’

‘But Charlie’s not a staff member.’

‘He is this week.’ Again, Lexie looked at her as if she was a sandwich short of a picnic. ‘If you can’t remember that then he’s right about those strong painkillers messing with your concentration. You shouldn’t be seeing patients. Are you sure you should even be driving?’

‘I’m fine,’ she ground out, suddenly cross. Not that she was exactly sure who she was mad at or in which order. Had her parents overstepped the mark and asked Charlie to work at the clinic? No. they wouldn’t do that, would they? Had he just taken it on himself to work here uninvited? Would he be that bold?

The voices increased in volume and then Charlie was ushering Mackenzie Strickland across the foyer and out of the clinic, his smile as broad as the patient’s. White anger, pure and hot, poured through Lauren. How dare you! That was my news to give Mackenzie.

‘Who’s next, Lex?’ Charlie turned towards Reception. ‘Lauren?’ Surprise widened his eyes and raised his brows, along with a flash of something that vanished as quickly as it had come.

He looked different but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. His ever-present weariness still clung to him, lingering in the lines on his face, but the blue on blue of his eyes positively sparkled. A hypnotic energy whizzed around him in an enticing buzz that drew her in and that’s when it hit her. Charlie looked happy.

‘May I please speak with you in my office?’ she said tightly. Without waiting for him to reply, she stalked down the corridor. The moment he was inside the room and the door closed behind him, she said, ‘What are doing here?’

‘Talking to you?’

‘Don’t be a smartarse. Why are you here?’

He sat down in such a casual manner she wanted to scream. ‘I think it’s fairly self-explanatory. You’re crook and I’m a doctor.’

‘You’re a trauma surgeon, not a GP.’

‘I’m still a doctor.’

‘You’re on holidays.’ She caught the flash of unease in his eyes and it quenched her anger, leaving her feeling rattled. ‘You are on holidays, right? A brief visit of a few days?’

‘Actually...’ His fingers tapped out a tune on his thighs ‘...it’s a bit longer than that.’

Her mouth dried. Her heart rate picked up, pumping threads of anxiety through her. She didn’t want or need Charlie in Horseshoe Bay for an extended length of time. She could handle a week. She quickly calculated that as he’d arrived three days ago that meant he only had four left. She could survive four, no problem. Easy-peasy. ‘So a week, right?’

‘I’m here until Easter.’

Six weeks! No. No. No! She sat down before she fell down.

* * *

Charlie watched Lauren’s hand grip the edge of her desk before she skated her chair in close. Granted, he’d been accused by women in the past of missing emotional clues but there was nothing subtle about Lauren’s anger. She seethed with it—its tentacles lashing and whipping him from the moment he’d spied her across the clinic foyer. That she was angry with him was clear. Why she was angry was another matter entirely.

Yesterday, after they’d cleared up a decade-old misunderstanding and he’d apologised, they’d shared a companionable afternoon watching Bogart and Hepburn on TV slugging it out in The African Queen. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat and watched a movie from start to finish without either being interrupted or interrupting himself. But there was nothing friendly or companionable about Lauren now.

Was it pain-induced anger and distress? He’d been surprised to see her at the clinic, especially as the registrar at Surfside Hospital, her parents, Lexie and himself had all told her she needed to take three days off to give her ribs a chance to ease and start healing. She’d appeared to listen and agree and yet here she was, extremely irritable and unhappy. If they had been fencing and she’d been holding a sabre, he’d have been in danger of being run through.

With a brisk and practised move, Lauren clicked on her mouse and her computer screen flickered to life. ‘Please go back to enjoying your holiday.’

Enjoying his holiday? That was an oxymoron. He was more than happy to work. He’d already calculated that if he did two sessions a day at the clinic Monday to Friday—hell, he’d work weekends too—he might just survive the next six weeks of imposed leave. Meanwhile, Lauren’s complexion was tinged with the tight whiteness of pain and he wanted to ease that.

‘Lauren, why are you pushing yourself? No one expects you to work for the rest of the week.’

‘I have patients.’

‘Who I’m more than happy to look after.’ He’d only done two hours’ work so far this morning but already he felt lighter and far more like himself. He loved surgery but he was getting a kick from interacting with patients in a different way. ‘It’s been a bit like old home week. Mr. Colvin remembered me.’

When he and Harry had been twelve and nine respectively, they’d been given the job of meeting the cray boat on the pier. The instructions from their parents had been simple—buy the biggest two. Harry had always winced at the scream when the cray hit the hot water, whereas Charlie had been fascinated by the chemistry of how applying heat to the shell changed it from a dark blue-brown to bright red. It was probably why he’d become a doctor, whereas Harry—His thoughts veered away from all the unfulfilled potential that had been stolen from his brother. The guilt sneaked in anyway.

‘Mr C. brought you a crayfish as a get-well gift. I was going to drop it over to you later but why not take it home with you now?’ Charlie gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Lexie and I have got this. All you need to do is sleep, rest and recuperate.’

‘I’m not asking you to give up your leave.’

‘You’re not. I’m offering,’ he said expansively. ‘After all, it’s what friends do.’

‘No.’ She speared him with a mutinous look. ‘Friends don’t assume.’

Assume? Now she’d lost him. ‘I’m not assuming anything. I deal in facts. Your X-rays prove you’re injured.’

‘Yes, but this is my practice. These are my patients.’

‘Of course they’re your patients, but I can help both them and you.’ He cast around for an example to prove his point and to shore up his position. ‘For instance, Mackenzie Strickland. Her situation wasn’t urgent so Surfside wouldn’t help her and, yes, technically she could have waited until Monday, but given what she’s going through, I was able to ease her anxiety and save you from overdoing things.’ He smiled at her, trying to connect and crack her granite expression. ‘You know, I got as much of a buzz from telling Mackenzie she’s pregnant as I did recently saving a kid’s life.’

Two pink spots burned Lauren’s otherwise pale cheeks. ‘In general practice it’s all about the relationship with the patient. For months I’ve had to give Mackenzie bad news and help her deal with her grief as she experienced yet another miscarriage.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Another lost dream.’

She sucked in a deep breath as if needing to steady herself. ‘The results of her chorionic villi sampling was my news to tell, not yours. You don’t have the right to swan in here and take over without even consulting me. I don’t need your help and I’d like you to leave.’

A thrum of disquiet stirred, underpinned by disappointment laced with worry. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to walk back through the doors of the clinic and face a long day of beachcombing, reading and going crazy. He wanted to work. Needed to work. ‘Surely you can cut a guy some slack for well-intentioned assistance?’

‘It’s not the sort of assistance I need.’

But I need this. ‘I’ll be more consultative, I promise.’

‘Between Surfside, Lexie, my mother, and me working reduced hours, we’re covered.’

Agitation swooped in, pushing out the feel-good emotions of the morning. ‘Why risk falling in a heap from working when you don’t have to? Hell, I’m here. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?’ Damn and blast. He’d meant to sound as if he was doing her a favour but all he could hear was the thread of pleading in his voice.

Her beautiful light brown eyes narrowed. ‘Why does an Australian Aid trauma surgeon on precious holidays want to waste his time working in general practice in Horseshoe Bay?’

‘Hell, Lauren,’ he said belligerently, trying to deflect her. ‘Do you always give people who are trying to help you the third degree?’

‘Only the ones who clearly have something to hide.’

‘I don’t have anything to hide.’

‘Good.’ She pressed the intercom. ‘Lexie, Charlie Ainsworth is just leaving so as soon as you see him exit the building, send in the next patient.’

‘But, Lauren—’

Her finger came off the intercom and Lexie’s voice cut off. Lauren skewered him with a look of icy determination. ‘Enjoy your day.’

His temper frayed. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘Am I? Picture this. Without asking, I stroll into your operating theatre and do the complicated surgery you’ve spent days planning and dreaming about.’

‘I’d welcome it.’

‘Liar. You’d hate it.’

She was right, he’d be ropeable. He sighed. ‘Okay, fair call.’

She gave him a long, assessing look and it took everything he had not to squirm in the chair. Keep it all buried. He matched her with a direct gaze of his own and threw in a sardonic raised brow. She blinked first. Good. Standing slowly, she walked around the desk. As he was still sitting, it was pure power play so he rose and was immediately taller than her.

‘Charlie, what’s really going on?’

‘Nothing.’ He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. ‘Like I said, I was only trying to help you. I should have curbed my enthusiasm.’

She wriggled her nose. ‘I’d understand your help more if we’d had an emergency. What I don’t understand is the help with the mundane stuff that can wait, especially on a glorious blue-sky day with great waves. It’s almost as if you don’t want to be on holidays...’

He gave an ‘as if’ laugh to move her far, far away from the truth.

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, my, God, that’s it, isn’t it? It’s killing you not to be working.’

Every part of him wanted to deny it but she had him cornered. ‘You’ve got me,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’m a workaholic. So, really, you’re helping me by letting me work,’ he quipped, and added a big grin for good measure.

She didn’t laugh. In fact, the expression on her face was more aligned with pity than humour. ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No.’

‘Okay.’

Okay? What woman ever said that to a refusal to discuss feelings? And yet, twelve years ago, he and Lauren had never talked about their emotions so in a way this ‘okay’ made sense. ‘What do you want me to do next?’ he asked, thinking about the patients in the waiting room.

‘According to the radio, there’s flathead biting off the end of the pier. You might be able to fill your day that way.’

‘Very funny.’

She hit him with an uncompromising stare. ‘Or you can tell me why you’re in Horseshoe Bay when you clearly don’t want to be on holidays. Then I’ll let you see some patients.’

‘I thought doctors were supposed to be caring people,’ he grumbled, trying to hide his anxiety.

‘We are.’ Her hand rested on his arm. ‘But we can also be our own worst enemies.’

He gazed down at her, wanting to lose himself in her clear gaze and kiss her until his mind was blank, but she wasn’t looking at him with anything other than concern for a friend. Damn it. He’d been the one to raise the friend issue. He’d planted that seed. What the hell had he been thinking? Every time he looked at her he wanted to pull her close, hold her tight and breathe in her fresh, sea scent. Who was he kidding? He wanted her naked—under him, over him, with him.

He gave himself a shake and decided the bare bones were all she needed—all he was prepared to give. ‘I got caught in a cyclone.’

‘Oh, God. That must have been terrifying.’

Not as terrifying as being home. ‘Yeah.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m fine but Australia Aid won’t put me in the field again until I’ve ticked all the trauma recovery boxes. The thing is, I’m better when I work.’

She tilted her head, her beautiful eyes assessing him, and he got the feeling she saw straight through him. ‘How long since you last had a holiday?’

‘I don’t do relaxation.’

‘I can see that. You look exhausted.’

Frustration bubbled in his veins. ‘Listen, I didn’t come to Horseshoe Bay to get the same lecture I’m getting from Australia Aid.’

‘That says a lot.’

‘Again...’ he breathed in deeply and tried to keep a lid on his temper ‘... I already have a counsellor, so...’

Her brows rose. ‘Prickly.’

He wasn’t touching that but his temper frayed anyway. ‘Can I work or not?’

The cogs of her intelligent mind were reflected in her all-seeing eyes. ‘Until I’m back at work, you can do the morning session and finish at one.’

That’s not enough. ‘It makes more sense for me to do the whole day.’

‘Not from where I’m standing. Do you have any idea how drawn you are? How unkempt you look?’

‘What the hell does that have to do with anything?’

‘It has everything to do with it. A lot of my patients are in better shape than you.’ She sighed. ‘Look, Charlie, I don’t know why you’re fighting your R&R but you need it. My offer’s a four-hour workday for three days and then we’ll review it. Take it or leave it.’

The girl he’d once been able to talk round with flattery and kisses was nowhere to be seen. ‘When did you become such a hardball negotiator?’

She didn’t laugh or smile and she didn’t reply using words—she didn’t have to, it was written all over her face. That’s when he remembered what she’d told him just before the car had careened at them.

Divorced.

He had an unreasonable urge to punch her ex-husband.

* * *

‘Watching paint dry is more exciting than this,’ Charlie grumbled.

‘You have to be patient,’ Shaylee said, her elfin face set in a serious and determined expression. ‘Ian says the fish know if you’re in a bad mood.’

Lauren laughed, loving the way children cut straight through the nonsense. ‘There you go, Charlie. Our lack of fish falls firmly at your feet.’

Instead of rolling his eyes, Charlie grinned at her over the top of Shaylee’s head—all white teeth and sparkling eyes as blue as the sea that lay at their feet. A bolt of pleasure whizzed through her, zeroing in between her legs with a flash of heat, making her thighs tighten and the rest of her twitch. Being friends with Charlie was killing her.

It was Saturday afternoon and they were on the end of the pier, trying to catch dinner. Lauren’s ribs were no longer hurting quite as much and after three days of enforced rest she had a bad case of cabin fever. She’d offered to take Shaylee fishing to free up her parents so they could attend and enjoy an eightieth birthday afternoon tea without worrying about a bored eight-year-old. Lauren wasn’t exactly certain how Charlie had ended up joining them on the pier, especially as he appeared to hate fishing, although she suspected he just hated being still. Was that why he was fighting his R&R? Perhaps she should suggest he do an ecotourism high-adrenaline holiday.

I don’t do relaxation, he’d said. He wasn’t kidding. His line was jiggling up and down in his hand like he had a tremor or a tic. Each day, after his morning session at the clinic, Charlie had called in on her at the cottage and given her a quick handover while he made her lunch. She was positive she hadn’t mentioned the fishing plans to him and yet he’d materialised in the car park just in time to help carry the gear. Why? For a moment she’d toyed with the idea that he’d taken on board her advice to find ways to chill out but, watching him, she knew the idea to be ludicrous.

‘You won’t get a bite if you keep jiggling the rod,’ she said, deliberately glancing away from his seductive smile.

‘I’m creating excitement and anticipation in the fish world by constantly moving the hook.’

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing. ‘Interesting strategy. Want to bet on it?’ Seriously? What are you doing?

His eyes lit up. ‘Fifty bucks?’

‘I was thinking more along the lines of the person who doesn’t hook the first fish fillets the catch.’

‘Let’s take it one step further. The loser fillets and cooks.’

His dimples twinkled at her, making her feel giddy. ‘You’re on, Charlie. I’m so going to win this.’

‘Lauren!’ Shaylee squealed. Her line bobbed up and down wildly.

Charlie shot out his right hand to steady it and Lauren reeled in her own line before scrambling to her feet and kneeling behind Shaylee. ‘Okay, honey, we have to do this slowly.’

‘It’s pulling me,’ Shaylee cried with a hint of fear underneath her excitement.

‘Crikey.’ Charlie tightened his grip. ‘You can’t do this one-handed, Lauren. Reel in my line and I’ll help her.’

She grabbed his rod. ‘Slowly, Charlie. Slowly.’

‘I reckon you’ve caught a brick, Shaylee. Put your hands over mine.’ Charlie played the line, his hands looking large under the little girl’s.

‘Bricks don’t bite hooks, silly.’ But she was gazing up at Charlie as if he was some sort of hero.

Lauren knew that look—a long time ago she’d been guilty of it herself. Now she was wiser. She was never putting a man on a pedestal again. ‘Don’t break the line,’ she instructed—her shame and regret about Jeremy making the words more brusque than necessary.

‘Like that’s my intention,’ Charlie muttered, as he gave the line some slack.

A small crowd of anglers and onlookers gathered around them, many offering suggestions and pondering out loud what Shaylee might have caught.

‘Could be a flathead,’ a tourist offered.

Spiros Papadopoulos rolled his eyes at the ill-informed holidaymaker. ‘Have to be a bloody big one to bow the rod like that. More like salmon or whiting.’

‘What if it’s a shark?’ Shaylee asked, eyes wide.

‘Then we’ll get our picture in the paper.’ Charlie’s excitement matched the little girl’s.

As Charlie followed Spiros’s instructions, Lauren’s gaze fell to the play of muscles on his back, easily seen due to the combination of his current lack of weight and the thin and worn T-shirt. Ever since he’d told her about the cyclone, she’d found herself worrying about him. Being caught up in a natural disaster was bad enough but adding in the car accident made him a prime candidate for PTSD. That was, if he didn’t already have it.

I have a counsellor. But was he telling the counsellor the real story?

Lauren knew smart people were more than capable of using smoke and mirrors to lead counsellors away from the real issue or issues. She had a gut feeling Charlie was doing exactly that to her, let alone a counsellor. Each day at lunch he’d lean casually against the counter and draw her out. ‘Any flashbacks? You sleeping okay? Come on, eat a bit more than that.’

Yesterday, after three days of sitting around doing nothing, she hadn’t been hungry, and after eating half her sandwich she’d handed him the plate. ‘You have the rest.’

He shook his head. ‘Gran’s got lunch waiting for me. I’ll put some cling wrap over this so you can have it later.’

She wanted to believe he ate a late lunch each day with Anna, except the only problem with that was his grandmother was diabetic. If diabetics indulged in late lunches, they risked collapsing. When she added in the fact that Charlie was underweight for his height and breadth, she was certain he wasn’t eating enough. It was the reason that eluded her and brought her full circle back to PTSD.

Or cancer. Or a million other possibilities.

The doctor in her itched to examine him and run a raft of tests. The woman in her wanted to—what? Feed him? Help him? Hug him? Despite trying hard not to want to do anything, she was leaning towards all three.

‘Get a net,’ Charlie yelled. ‘Whatever it is, it’s big.’ He heaved and his back leaned into her—his warmth and enthusiasm giving her a rush.

She grabbed the net and scurried to his left, ready to scoop the flailing fish the moment it broke the surface.

‘Yuk!’ Shaylee shrank back into Charlie. ‘What’s that?’

Charlie laughed. ‘It’s a cracker of a squid, sweetie. It looks yuk but it will taste amazing.’

Lauren caught the prehistoric-looking cephalopod in the net to the cheers of the crowd and plunged it into the bucket to avoid being inked. Charlie stood up and held Shaylee’s arm aloft, as if she was a champion boxer. ‘Shaylee, the squid wrangler.’

One of the anglers sighed. ‘I’ve got a state-of-the-art squid jig and you caught it on a hook.’

His friend slapped him on the shoulder. ‘You gotta give her the luck, bro.’

‘She deserves it,’ Lauren said, thinking about Shaylee’s mother. ‘Hold it up, honey, and I’ll take a photo.’

Charlie helped Shaylee hold what looked to be about a two-kilogram squid. As Lauren lined up the yellow square in preparation for the photo, she read unadulterated joy on both their faces. It struck her that it wasn’t an emotion either of them wore very often. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Don’t be pathetic...again! ‘Smile.’

‘Ian! Sue!’ Shaylee called after the photo was taken. ‘Look!’

Lauren turned and waved to her parents, who were strolling along the pier arm in arm.

‘That’s a beaut, Shay. Looks like you’ve been having fun.’ Ian winked at Lauren before swinging the little girl around. ‘We’ll be eating well tonight.’

Lauren’s heart rolled. Her father had so much love to give and she was fortunate to be his daughter, even if there’d been times growing up when she’d wished she didn’t have to share him with quite so many other children. She loved her parents, but their well-developed sense of social justice sometimes left Lauren feeling unworthy. Although neither Ian nor Sue had ever said anything, she knew they were disappointed they weren’t already grandparents. Lauren was disappointed for them too. For herself. The sad memory of that long-ago miscarriage suddenly rushed her and one lone tear resisted her rapid blinking and spilled over. She was thankful she was wearing sunglasses.

There was a whirlwind of packing up, of Sue and Ian making a fuss of Shaylee and pumping Charlie’s hand, thanking him for being there to help, and then her parents and Shaylee were in the car, driving away. Suddenly she was standing alone with Charlie under the Norfolk pines.

‘Still think fishing’s like watching paint dry?’

He grinned. ‘I think it’s more like being on call. There’s a lot of boring hanging around waiting and thumb-twiddling and then, wham! An adrenaline rush.’ He gazed down at her, the shadows cast by the sunlight pouring through the tree branches dancing on his face. ‘Of course, the best part of today is that you’re cooking.’

‘Hah! In your dreams. Shaylee caught it.’

His head dropped closer. ‘I reeled it in.’

Her stomach fluttered as his crisp, fresh scent circled her. ‘I netted it to stop it from slipping away.’

‘I see a problem.’ He tucked some strands of her hair behind her ear before his fingers lazily caressed it then slipped along the length of her jaw.

Mini-explosions of delight fizzed in her veins before seizing control of her mind and making all cogent thought difficult. It’s not Charlie making you feel this way, she quickly reminded herself. Ben or any other nice guy would generate the same buzz, because it’s been such a long time since you’ve been touched like this.

Lost in the bliss of his touch, she dug deep to find her voice. ‘You...you do?’ she said huskily.

But he didn’t reply, seeming also to have forgotten what they had been talking about. In an old but familiar way, the blue of his eyes deepened by the second, tugging her towards him as if she were hooked on a line and powerless to resist his pull. A tiny part of her cautioned, Don’t do this, but it held no sway. Curiosity was a far stronger beast. Would he kiss the same way he had all those years ago? Had he learned anything new? She had. She’d learned a lot—not so much about kissing but about men and about herself.

So, really, if she kissed him, it was all about proving the hypothesis that she was now a world-weary woman with eyes wide open, instead of a naïve eighteen-year-old weaving impossible dreams. This kiss was merely an experiment to prove to herself he was just another man.

She wasn’t aware if he lowered his mouth to hers or if she rose on her toes to close the slight gap, but the scratch of his stubble was prickling her cheek as his lips missed the mark. Not a perfect kisser after all, she reminded herself. Yet another faulty memory you’ve attributed to him. Then his hands gently cupped her cheeks, tilting her head, and he angled his mouth over hers—warm, soft lips—in a perfect fit.

A sigh rolled through her but she cautioned herself—she’d be a poor scientist if she allowed the first data to overwhelm her.

His touch was light yet firm, generously giving but with a gentle enquiry—Are you sure you want this? In the pursuit of her own scientific endeavours, she opened her mouth under his and he slowly and leisurely slipped in. It was in sharp contrast to the younger Charlie, who had kissed her long and hard until she’d run out of breath and seen stars. Regret for the enthusiasm of youth tugged at her.

Did he taste different? While she trawled her memory, her tongue was flicking, savouring and dissecting his flavours. Peppermint, coffee and something delicious. What was it? She stroked his mouth again and he suddenly groaned. His arms wrapped around her hips and he pulled her in close until she was flattened against him. Every part of him pressed her from chest to toe, filling every nook and valley.

Heat exploded, blasting her and igniting her desire until it was a raging fireball that melted her into a puddle of delicious and addictive sensations. Charlie’s restrained kiss vanished, replaced by an all-encompassing onslaught that made resistance not only futile but impossible. The squawks of indignant seagulls, the gentle lap of the sea against the sand, the low buzz of traffic and the occasional shouts of children receded. She no longer had the ability to examine, question and deduce.

All that mattered was Charlie’s touch, his taste, and the wondrous feel of him. She rested her cast on his chest and gripped his shoulder for support while her other hand roved through his hair. As their mouths duelled hot, hard and with an intensity that demanded their all, her breath came fast and shallow. Silver spots shimmered and spun behind her closed eyes and she didn’t know if she wanted to passively allow him to kiss her so she could savour it all or if she wanted to take control and dominate him.

His mouth slipped along her jaw, burning a trail of wonder and promise. Without any conscious thought her head fell back, exposing her neck. She craved his touch like a starving woman craved food and she took everything he offered. As he nuzzled her neck, his lips and tongue marking her skin with his touch, his hair brushed her face. The faint scent of cedar and masculine sweat tangled in her nostrils and she dragged in a deep breath, filling herself with it before kissing his hair. His lips reached the top of her tank top and the swell of her breast. He gave a gentle nip.

Her body jerked. Pleasure whipped her from head to toe, ramping up her need to fever pitch. She was no longer human—she was a mass of spinning and whirling elements driven by a yearning that dominated everything and left her panting. Every cell in her body hungered for him, demanding to be fed and filled. She heard a low, animal-like growl but she couldn’t tell if it came from him or her.

Her blood pounded loud in her ears, deafening her, but slowly the insistent buzzing and the shrill and regular ring of a bell penetrated her haze. Gasping, she gripped his head and somehow managed to stutter, ‘Ph-phone.’

Charlie drew back, his chest heaving, and he stared at her with unfocused navy eyes lit with a desire that matched her own. The pull was so strong she almost threw her arms around him again but the shriek of a child broke the spell. She took in their surroundings. They were standing just off to the side of a public car park. Oh, God, who had seen them?

‘You going to answer that?’ Charlie asked hoarsely.

Her trembling fingers pulled her phone out of the pocket of her shorts. ‘H-hello.’

‘Lauren, are you running?’ Her mother’s voice rattled down the line confused and concerned.

‘N-no.’

‘Then why are you out of breath?’

Because I’ve just been kissed senseless. But before she could coordinate her lust-soaked and scattered mind to muster a reply, her mother continued, ‘Are your ribs okay? I hope you’re not overdoing things.’

‘No, Mum. Promise.’

‘Good. The reason I’m ringing is that Shaylee says you and Charlie had a bet about the calamari. Something about the person who didn’t hook the first catch cooks? Anyway, she got very upset when I started preparing the squid and she’s insistent the two of you are coming over to cook it.’

Lauren’s stomach fell as she recalled her and Charlie flirting over the top of Shaylee’s glossy-haired head. ‘The bet was just a joke, Mum,’ she said quickly.

Charlie shot her an enquiring look and she shook her head. Just as she turned away she heard his phone ring.

‘The thing is, darling,’ her mother said firmly, ‘Shaylee believes you were serious. You know how often she’s been let down and how hard Dad and I have been working to get her to trust us. She’s eight, Lauren. She doesn’t understand jokes like that. To her it’s the truth and I really don’t want this to set her back.’

Lauren was spun back in time to her childhood. You’re the lucky one, Lauren. You know we love you. Now, share your toys. Childhood guilt at being asked again to set aside her own needs tangoed with her adult self and she swallowed a sigh. ‘I get it, Mum. I’ll come over.’

‘Thank you.’

She heard the rumble of her father’s voice in the background. ‘But you’re going to have to teach me how to prepare and cook calamari.’

‘You never know, Charlie might be an expert.’

Her mouth dried. ‘Mum, I doubt Charlie will come.’ Especially as there’s no way in hell I’m asking him to a family dinner. ‘He’s in Horseshoe Bay to spend time with his grandmother and we can’t steal him away from her.’

‘Oh, Charlie’s coming, darling, and so is Anna,’ her mother said breezily. ‘Your father’s just spoken to him.’

What? She spun around to see Charlie sliding his phone into his pocket. He gave her a thumbs-up.

Fabulous. Just freakin’ fabulous. She slumped against the Norfolk pine, immune to the rough bark sticking into her and the likely chance of resin staining her clothes. So much for a logical, rational and dispassionate kiss proving she was no longer attracted to him. Her experiment had run off the rails in spectacular style. She’d held nothing back and even if Charlie had been a stranger, not an ex, he wouldn’t have to connect very many dots to know she’d been on fire for him. Wanted him. Had come close to committing public indecency with him. Even a guy without a surgeon’s ego would be strutting like a rooster after such a display.

It took everything she had not to drop her head in her hands and moan. After Jeremy, she was determined never to reveal anything of herself to a man other than superficial and non-important thoughts and feelings. No man was ever going to have power over her again and yet, with one kiss, she’d handed Charlie power on a plate. To add insult to injury, now they had to cook together in the close confines of her parents’ kitchen and under the eagle eye of her mother, who saw everything and missed nothing. If Lauren had any chance of surviving this evening with her dignity intact, there needed to be rules—very clear, concise and rigid rules.

* * *

Charlie had the sudden urge to whistle and, so help him, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d chirped out a tune. His life might be in a tailspin but thankfully some things didn’t change—Lauren Fuller could still kiss. His memory hadn’t failed him: she was as responsive and as generous with her kisses as she’d been at eighteen. The hot and demanding play of her mouth under his, the flat press of her breasts against his chest and the brush of her thigh between his legs had brought dusty memories roaring back to life in vivid, living colour.

He grinned—it had been a hell of a walk down memory lane accompanied by the delicious release of a torrent of feel-good memories. Now those memories tempted him with many more—Lauren, naked and with shining eyes, straddling him. Both of them naked, sweaty and moaning as he slid into her—

The hot blast of desire sent his blood south, making him hard in a way he hadn’t known in a long while. There was no doubt about it. Lauren was still good for him and, going on that kiss, she still wanted him. He planned to put that knowledge to good use so they both benefited. Closing the small gap between them, he pressed his hands against the bark above her head and gazed down at her.

She slowly raised her head and fixed her luminous eyes on him. He’d been expecting to see the same bright lust that had shimmered so brightly in their depths just five minutes ago. But instead of naked need, they glinted sharp and clear, in focus and with businesslike intent. ‘As you know, my parents are expecting us and—’

‘Don’t stress. I get it.’ He tapped his nose. ‘No kissing in the kitchen.’

Relief filled her face. ‘Exactly. Or anywhere in my parents’ house.’ She ducked as he lowered his head to steal a kiss. ‘And no more kissing in public places either.’

‘Spoilsport,’ he teased. ‘Just for the record, I’m totally on board with kissing in private places.’ He waited for her to laugh in agreement, but she swallowed and her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. It took every gram of restraint that he had not to kiss her.

‘Actually, Charlie, I don’t think us kissing is a very good idea, full stop.’

If he’d anticipated her reply, it wasn’t this. ‘Why on earth not? I definitely got the impression you enjoyed it as much as I did.’

She raised her hand as if she was going to brush his cheek but instead let it drop back to her side. ‘Enjoyment has nothing to do with anything.’

‘Enjoyment has everything to do with it.’ For a second he thought he felt her prevaricate, topple even towards the desire that constantly spun around them, drawing them together. But when she spoke, he knew it had been wishful thinking.

‘Yesterday we agreed that you’re going to continue working one session a day at the clinic. That means, come Monday, we’re working together.’

When she had informed him that she was coming back to work part time next week, he’d almost begged her to let him continue working at the clinic. So, they were both working at the surgery, big deal. No matter which way he came at it, he couldn’t see a problem. ‘But we’re not technically working together. We’re doing opposite sessions.’

‘It still makes us colleagues. Look, I just don’t need the locals gossiping and I really don’t want my parents misinterpreting anything and...’

‘And what?’ He needed all the information so he could debunk it and lead her back to what he wanted—Lauren in his arms and in his bed.

She sighed and embarrassment burned two pink spots on her cheeks. ‘I don’t want them getting their hopes up when we’d only be having fun.’

‘R-r-r-right,’ he said slowly but thinking fast. First up, Lauren clearly wasn’t entertaining a future with him—good.

Really?

Yes!

Second, he knew all about the hopes and dreams parents held for their children. He was also intimate with the vitriol that inevitably followed when hopes shattered and disillusionment and disappointment set in.

He liked Sue and Ian Fuller and he didn’t want to set up any unrealistic expectations either, but kissing Lauren had kick-started a need for her that, if he was honest with himself, despite twelve intervening years, had never really left him. ‘What if I gave up the sessions at the clinic and we keep us secret?’ For a moment she was completely still and then she laughed—a huge, body-rocking belly laugh that shook her, sending her hair bouncing around her face.

Indignation shot through him. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Oh, come on,’ she spluttered. ‘Even you must hear how ridiculous that statement sounds. You’re a workaholic, Charlie. You’re barely coping with afternoons off as it is, let alone filling a whole day.’

It was true. Although he enjoyed Gran’s company, he’d sought out Lauren’s company every day after work to help pass the long hours. God, he’d even turned up at the pier today to fish when he’d overheard Ian chatting to Lexie about it. Still, right up until now, fishing had paid off in spades.

‘And,’ she continued, the laughter completely gone, ‘I’m not a hobby to help you pass the time.’

‘I never intimated that you were.’ Her words—so off the mark—stung but he quickly recovered, pushing down his hurt—the intensity of it surprising him. Stepping back, he said purposefully, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be the perfect guest in your parents’ home.’

‘Charlie...’

But he didn’t want to hear platitudes or excuses—especially ones that wouldn’t change a damn thing. He clapped his hands as he did just before surgery when he was focusing his team. ‘So, we’re cooking calamari. I’ll pick up Gran then meet you there. What’s your parents’ address?’