Читать книгу Medical Romance November 2016 Books 1-6 - Kate Hardy - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

THE PUB WAS PACKED. And with the clanging of plates and raucous laughter, it was hard to think, much less carry on a civilised conversation. Not the kind of place to go after dealing with a twelve-hour day of work.

But the place was also dark, with just some dim wall sconces lighting the way towards the tables. A few coloured bulbs along the bar were the only concession to the upcoming Christmas season.

O’Malley’s wasn’t a normal hospital hangout, but that was okay. She wanted privacy. Which was one of the reasons Annabelle had suggested it. If they were going to have The Talk, opening up the subject of their past, she didn’t want anyone to overhear the conversation.

And the low lighting would keep Max from seeing her expression. In the past, he’d always been able to read her like a book. It had been no different in that treatment room an hour earlier, when he’d known instantly that he’d hurt her with his words and apologised. She hated that he could still decipher her expressions. And when he’d touched her...

No doubt he’d seen the heat that washed into her face. Well, this time she was going to make it a little harder on him, if she could.

They followed the waitress to a small table for two in the very back of the place. Max waited for her to sit down before pulling his own chair out.

The server plonked a menu down in front of each of them, having to speak loudly to be heard above the din. ‘What would you like to drink?’

Annabelle tried to decide if she wanted to risk imbibing or if she should play it safe. Oh, what the hell? Maybe she should dull her senses just a little. ‘I’ll have white wine.’

Writing her request down in a little book, the woman then turned her attention to Max. And ‘turned her attention’ was evidently synonymous with turning on her charm. Because suddenly the waitress was all smiles, fiddling with her hair. ‘And you, sir?’

‘I’ll have a whisky sour, thank you.’ He sent her a quick smile, but to his credit there was nothing behind it that hinted of any interest in whatever the waitress was offering. And she was offering. As a woman, Annabelle recognised the signs, even though she had never gone the flirting route.

At least not until she met Max.

Evidently realising she was out of luck, the woman shifted her gaze to Max’s left hand, then she snapped her little book shut and flounced off.

Max didn’t wear his ring any more. But then again, neither did she.

‘Thank you for that.’

Max tilted his head. ‘For what?’

‘Not responding to her in front of me.’

Up went one brow. ‘Not my type.’

That made her laugh, and her muscles all loosened. ‘Really? Because she seemed to think you were hers.’

‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Oh, come on.’ She sat back in her chair and studied him. Max had always been handsome. But in the three years since she’d seen him, he’d grown even more attractive, although there was a deep groove between his brows that she didn’t remember seeing when they were together.

‘Seriously. She was probably just being friendly.’

‘Seriously, huh? I don’t know. Maybe we should make a little bet on it.’

‘I don’t bet on things like that.’ The furrow above his nose deepened. ‘Not any more.’

He didn’t bet on what? Relationships? Because of her?

That wasn’t what she wanted for Max. His childhood had been rough as it was, devoid of affection...love. He deserved to be happy, and she wanted that for him. Even now.

‘We never really talked about it. What happened all those years ago.’ Suddenly she wished she’d chosen a place a little less loud as she fingered the plastic placemat in front of her.

‘I seem to remember a lot of talking. Most of it angry.’

Yes, there had been the arguments. Especially at the end, when he’d found her journal, the smoking gun that she was still hoping against hope that she would become pregnant.

Even before that, though, Max had become someone she didn’t recognise. Impatient. Short. And somehow sad. That was the worst of all the emotions she’d seen in him. She’d tried so hard to have a child, thinking it would make everything better between them. That it would bind Max to her in a physical way—give him a sense of roots. Instead, it had only made things worse. The pregnancy attempts had ended up becoming a vicious cycle of failure and then increased desperation. Instead of binding them together, her attempts had torn them apart.

The waitress came and set their drinks in front of them. ‘Are you ready to order?’ Her voice wasn’t nearly as friendly this time.

‘Fish and chips for me and a glass of water, please.’ Annabelle was craving good, old-fashioned fare.

‘I’ll have the same. And a dark ale to go with it, please.’

Annabelle didn’t remember Max being a big drinker. Not that two drinks constituted an alcoholic. He just seemed...harder, somehow. Less approachable. Like his parents?

Once the waitress was gone, Annabelle picked up her wine, sipping with care.

Max, however, lifted his own glass and took a deep drink. ‘I haven’t had one of these in a long time. This place was a good choice.’

‘Ella and I like to come here every once in a while. It’s out of the way and loud enough that you don’t have to think.’

He seemed to digest that for a moment. ‘Not as loud as some of the places I’ve been.’

Interesting.

‘Where have you been? If you don’t mind my asking.’ She didn’t feel like talking about the arguments or failures of the past.

‘I don’t. I joined up with Doctors Without Borders. In between contracts in England, I’ve gone wherever they’ve needed me. Kenya, a time or two, but mostly the Sudan. I spent the last six months there.’

Annabelle listened, fascinated, as he shared what he’d done in the years since he’d left their flat. Some of the stories were horrifying. ‘Isn’t it hard to see that?’

‘Yes.’

‘And yet you keep going back. After this contract is up and Sienna is back from maternity leave, will you return there?’

The waitress arrived with their food and drinks, quickly asking if they needed anything else.

‘I think we’re good, thank you.’

When they were alone again, he drank the last of his whisky. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do once this contract is up. I’ve been thinking about settling someplace on a more permanent basis.’

From what he’d told her, he’d hopped from city to city, country to country as the whim took him.

She was on her first bite of fish when he asked, ‘How long have you lived in Cheltenham?’

It took her a second to chew and swallow. ‘A year. I went to live with my mum for a while after...well, after you left.’

‘Suzanne told me you didn’t stay in the flat for long.’

Annabelle had missed their cleaning lady. ‘Did you think I would?’

‘I didn’t really know what you would do. I went back after my first trip, almost a year later, and you were gone.’

‘I just couldn’t...stay.’

‘Neither could I.’ He paused. ‘Even if you hadn’t asked me to go, I would have. Things were never going to change.’

This was the most she’d ever been able to drag out of him. And she wasn’t even having to drag. Back then they would fight, and then Max would clam up for days on end, his tight jaw attesting to the fact that he was holding his emotions at bay with difficulty.

He’d once told her that his parents had been the same way with him—their anger had translated into silence. He’d struggled with breaking those old patterns their entire marriage. But in the last six months of it, those habits had come back with a vengeance. If she’d tried to probe or make things right between them—with the offer of physical intimacy—he’d always seemed to have some meeting or suddenly had a shift at the hospital. She’d finally got the message: he didn’t want to be with her, except when absolutely necessary for the in-vitro procedures. And then, after her last miscarriage, he was done trying for a baby.

Actually, Max had been done. Full stop. He’d left their relationship long before he’d actually walked out of the door.

She took another sip of her water to moisten her mouth as she got ready to tackle the most difficult subject of all.

‘You haven’t signed the papers.’

There was a pause.

‘No. I’ve been overseas on and off.’ He shrugged. ‘After a while, I forgot about them.’

That stung, but she tried not to let it. ‘Doesn’t it make going out on dates awkward?’

‘I’ve been busy. No time—or inclination—to jump back into those waters.’

His answer made Annabelle cringe. ‘I’m sorry if I’m the reason for that.’

‘I just haven’t seen many happy marriages.’

‘My parents are happy.’

He smiled at that. ‘They are the exception to the rule. How are they?’

‘They’re fine. So are my sisters. Jessica had another boy while you were gone—his name is Nate.’ She didn’t want to delve into the fact that her parents’ and siblings’ relationships had all seemed to work out just swimmingly. Except for hers.

‘That’s wonderful. I’m happy for them.’

Popping a chip into her mouth, she tried not to think about how different their childhoods had been. Max’s parents had seemed unhappy to be tied down with a child. They’d evidently loved to travel, and he had cramped their style.

Annabelle’s home, on the other hand, had been filled with love and laughter, and when her parents had travelled—on long road trips, mostly—their kids had gone with them. She had wonderful memories of those adventures.

She’d hoped she and Max could have the same type of relationship. Instead, she’d become so focused on a single aspect of what constituted a family that she’d ignored the other parts.

Had she been so needy back then that she’d damaged Max somehow?

Well, hadn’t their breakup damaged her?

Yes, but not in the way she’d expected. Annabelle had grown thicker skin over the past three years. Before, it seemed as if her whole life had been about Max and their quest to have a family. When that had begun breaking down and she’d sensed a lack of support on Max’s side to continue, she’d become more and more withdrawn. She could see now how she’d withheld love whenever Max hadn’t done exactly what she’d wanted. Just as his parents had.

She regretted that more than anything.

‘So what do you want to do about it?’

He set his glass down. ‘About what?’

Did she need to spell it out? ‘About the paperwork. Maybe this is the reason we’ve been thrown back together. To tie up loose ends.’

A smile tilted up one side of his mouth. ‘So I’m a loose end, now, am I?’

Nothing about Max was loose. He’d always been lean and fit, but now there was a firmness to him that spoke of muscle. Like the biceps that just peeked out from beneath the polo shirt he’d changed into before leaving the hospital.

They’d checked on Baby Hope before taking off. She was still holding her own, against all odds. But if a donor heart was not found soon...

She shrugged off the thought. ‘You’re not a loose end. But maybe I’m one of yours. You could be happy, Max. Find the right woman, and—’

‘You’re not a loose end, either.’ His hand covered hers, an index finger coaxing hers to curl around it. The sensation was unbearably intimate and so like times past that she was helpless not to respond to the request. Their fingers twined. Tightened. The same heat from the exam room sloshed up her neck and into her face.

‘Are you done with your meal?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘Would you mind coming with me for a minute?’ He threw some notes onto the table, and, without even waiting for the bill, got to his feet.

She swallowed hard, wondering if he’d had enough of this conversation. Maybe he even had his signed divorce papers back in his office. If so, she hoped she wouldn’t burst into tears when he presented her with them.

But he’d just told her she wasn’t a loose end. And he’d held her hand in a way that had been so familiar it had sent a sting of fear through her heart.

So she picked up her coat and followed him through the pub, weaving through tables and people alike. When their waitress made to stop them, Max murmured something to her. She nodded and disappeared back among the tables of customers.

At the door, Max helped her into her coat and they went out into the dark night. It was chilly, but it wasn’t actually as cold as she expected. When Max kept on walking, rather than stopping to let her know why they’d left the restaurant, she remained by his side. She had no idea where they were going, but right now she didn’t care.

A taxi stopped at the kerb. ‘You looking for a fare?’

‘I think we’re okay.’ Max glanced at her as if to confirm his words. She gave a quick nod, and the cab driver pulled away in search of another customer. The bar was probably a perfect spot to do that, actually, since anyone who’d had a few too many drinks would need a way to get safely back to their flat. Putting her hands in her pockets, she waited for him to tell her why he’d brought her out here. Maybe something was wrong with him physically. Could that be why he’d come home from the Sudan?

A few minutes later, she couldn’t take not knowing. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘It’s still there, isn’t it, despite everything?’

She frowned, moving under one of the street lamps along the edge of a park. ‘What is?’

‘That old spark.’

She’d felt that spark the second she’d laid eyes on him all those years ago. But he wasn’t talking about way back then. He was talking about right now.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

She wished to hell it weren’t. But she wasn’t going to pay truth back with a lie.

‘Anna...’ He took her hand and eased them off the path and into the dark shadows of a nearby bench.

She sat down, before she fell down. His voice... She would recognise that tone anywhere. He sat beside her, still holding her hand.

‘You’ve changed,’ he said.

‘So have you. You seem...’ She shook her head, unable to put words to her earlier thoughts. Or maybe it was that she wasn’t sure she should.

‘That bad, huh?’

‘No. Not at all.’

He grinned, the flash of his teeth sending a shiver over her. ‘That good, then, huh?’

Annabelle laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. ‘You wish.’

‘I actually do.’

When his fingers shifted from her hand to just beneath her chin, the shiver turned to a whoosh as all the breath left her body, her nerve endings suddenly attuned to Max’s every move. And when his head came down, all she felt was anticipation.

* * *

Max wasn’t sure what had come over him or made him want to leave the safety of the bar, but the second his lips touched hers all bets were off. The fragrance of her shampoo mixed with the normal sterile hospital scents, and it was like coming home after a long hard day.

His fingers slid up her jawline, edged behind the feminine curve of her ear and tunnelled into her hair. Annabelle’s body shifted as well, turning into him, her arms winding around his neck in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long. Or with any other woman.

The truth was that simple. And that complicated. No woman would ever be able to take Anna’s place—so he’d never even tried to find one.

He deepened the kiss, tongue touching her lips, exulting in the fact that she opened to him immediately. No hesitation.

They’d always been good in bed, each instinctively knowing what the other wanted and each had been more than willing to oblige. Soft and sweet or daring and adventurous, Anna had always been open to trying new things. Until it had become all about...

No. No thinking about that right now.

Not when she was clutching the lapels of his jacket as if she could tug him into her very soul.

He angled his head, thrusting a little deeper into the heat of her mouth. Maybe they should just forget about the cold park and head back to the warmth of his cottage and the heat they’d find in his bed. There were taxis on practically every corner.

That was what he wanted: to have her. In bed. Skin to skin. With nothing between them but fire and raw need.

Just as he was getting ready to edge back enough to ask her to go with him, the sound of voices broke through the haze of passion.

Not Anna’s voice, but someone else’s. Close enough that he could tell they were man and woman.

Annabelle beat him to the punch, pulling back so suddenly that it left him reeling for a few seconds. She glanced at him and he looked back at her. They both smiled. Young medical students caught necking. It had happened before, when they’d been dating. Only that had been a police officer, who’d not been quite as amused by their antics.

‘Caught again,’ he murmured.

‘So it would seem.’

He looked over to see who was walking past and his smile died, icy fingers walking up his spine. It was indeed a man and a woman, but they were pushing a pram. Bundles and bundles of blankets were piled on top of what had to be a young infant. And their faces.

God. They were happy. Incredibly happy.

His gaze went back to Anna’s to find that all colour had drained from her skin, leaving her pasty white. The young man threw them a smile and a quick hello.

Somehow Max managed to croak something back, but the mood was spoiled. He could tell by Anna’s reaction that she’d been thrown back to the tragedy that had been their shared past. At least that was what he took her stricken gaze to mean—the way her hungry eyes followed that pram as it went past and disappeared into the darkness.

His teeth gritted together several times before he had the strength to stand up and say what needed to be said. ‘I think we’ve both had a little too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.’

Anna’s one glass of wine and his two weightier beverages did not constitute drunkenness by any stretch of the imagination. Unless you considered being drunk on memories of the past as over-imbibing. It had to be all the reminiscing they’d done in the restaurant and the way her face had softened as she’d looked across the table at him. He’d always had trouble resisting her, and tonight was no exception. After one smile, he’d been putty in her hands. But he’d better somehow figure out how to put a stop to whatever was happening between them before one of them got hurt.

He’d opened his heart to her once before only to have it diced into tiny pieces and handed back to him. Never again. He would do whatever it took to keep that stony organ locked in the vault of his chest.

Far out of reach of her or anyone else.