Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, her voice miserable.

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about.’

  ‘I’ll, um, get dressed.’

  She wouldn’t look at him, he noticed. Embarrassed? Ashamed? He wasn’t sure. But she had no need to be either. He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’

  ‘What?’ Her muscles were tense and her voice was suspicious.

  ‘Stay with me tonight.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stay with me tonight,’ he repeated. ‘We’re not going to have sex. We’re just going to sleep in each other’s arms.’

  ‘But.’ She met his gaze.

  He could have wept. Did she really think he’d chuck her out of his bed because she wasn’t going to have sex with him? Was her opinion of him really that low?

  ‘Listen, when I brought you here tonight, there were no strings. I didn’t expect you to have sex with me, just because I made you a sandwich. You were upset and I wanted to do what you did for me the other night. I wanted to make you feel better, give you some space.’ He stroked her upper arms. ‘We’re both drained. We’ve told each other things that maybe we haven’t said to anyone else. Yes, I wanted to make love with you. I think you wanted it, too. It hasn’t worked out that way, but we’ll deal with it. Right now, I could do with some comfort—and I think you could, too.’

  ‘I … Yes,’ she admitted, and leaned back against him.

  ‘So let’s heal each other. Just sleep. Nothing more than that.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘And we’ll see where things take us in the future. Slowly.’

  Sophie really hadn’t expected Charlie to be so nice about it. She’d led him on—she’d even begged him to make love with her. She’d told him she wanted him inside her.

  And then the nightmare had returned. She’d panicked. Backed off.

  Shouldn’t he be furious with her for calling it off at the last minute?

  But no. He was holding her, understanding in his voice and his eyes. And he wanted her to sleep with him, just sleep. Give each other comfort.

  Even though she tried to force them back, tears welled in her eyes and splashed down onto her skin. They must have fallen onto him, too, because he held her close, soothing her. ‘Don’t cry, Sophie. You’re safe, here with me. Nothing and nobody’s going to hurt you.’ He shifted so that they were lying flat, his body curled spoonlike into hers, his arm placed protectively round her ribcage and pulling her back against him. ‘We’ve both had a rough week. Let’s just go to sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.’

  Would it? She wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Do you want to keep the light on?’

  ‘I. No.’ She wanted the dark to cover her shame.

  ‘The lamp’s on your side.’ He kissed her shoulder. ‘Touch it three times.’

  ‘Three times?’

  ‘Mmm-hmm. There are three levels of brightness. At the moment it’s on the lowest setting. You need to run through the other two and then it’ll go off.’

  She did as he instructed, and the room was bathed in blessed dark. ‘That’s clever.’

  ‘Mmm. Though it doesn’t work if you touch it with a book. And the brightness doesn’t change if you hold your hand still.’

  Despite her misery, she smiled. She could imagine Charlie wanting to know precisely what made it work. The surgeon in him needed to know exactly how things were put together. ‘So how does it work, then?’

  ‘Capacitance.’ She could hear amusement in his voice. ‘My baby sister explained it to me. Apparently, the neurons in your body complete the electrical circuit.’

  ‘I see. It’s still clever.’

  A shudder ran through her, and he held her closer. ‘Go to sleep,’ he said softly.

  Right now, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep. All her energies were focused on stopping herself crying, holding back the racking sobs that threatened to overwhelm her. But she squeezed her eyelids closed and concentrated on breathing rhythmically. The warmth of Charlie’s body and the softness of his bed did the rest, and she slid into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SOPHIE woke with a blinding headache. Someone was drilling, loudly, from the inside of her head. She kept her eyes shut, raked a hand into her hair and massaged her scalp with her fingertips. She knew from experience that if she increased the blood flow to her scalp, the pain would go away.

  And all because she’d tried so hard not to cry last night. She’d lain in Charlie’s arms and willed herself not to cry any more. And she hadn’t. But the result was one hell of a tension headache.

  Oh, God. Charlie.

  The more she thought about last night, the more she wanted to bury her head under the duvet and never come out again. The whole thing had been a disaster from start to finish. One, she’d told him about what had happened when she’d been in med school. Two, she’d as good as told him that she hadn’t slept with anyone since. OK, so she hadn’t—but that had only been because she had been concentrating on her career, not her love life. It wasn’t because she was scared of sex. Three, she’d begged him to make love with her. Four, she’d called it off at the very last second. Five, she’d cried all over him. And, if she thought about it, she could add a few more gaffes in there as well.

  This had to rank as the most cringeworthy, hideously embarrassing situation in her entire life. How the hell was she going to be able to work with him now?

  Worse still, how was she going to face him this morning?

  He was still asleep. Heavily asleep, judging by his regular, even breathing. She hoped he wasn’t one of those people who seemed fast asleep but woke at the slightest unfamiliar noise. Because she sure as hell wasn’t going to face him stark naked. She’d get her clothes on, drag her dignity out of the rock it had crawled under and they’d discuss it like adults. Coolly, calmly and professionally.

  Though there definitely wouldn’t be any bacon sandwiches involved.

  Cautiously, she slid out from under the duvet. Then she made her first mistake: she looked at Charlie. He was lying on his back, one arm thrown above his head and the other straight by his side. The duvet had slid halfway down his chest. His lips were very slightly parted, and he looked absolutely edible.

  What she really wanted to do was lean over and kiss him awake.

  If they’d made love last night, maybe she would have done.

  But embarrassment at what had actually happened flooded through her again. She couldn’t wake him. Not after last night’s fiasco. She screwed her eyes tightly shut to focus herself, took a deep breath and then retrieved her clothes. Half of them were tangled with his. All of them were crumpled. So anybody who saw her would be in no doubt about what she’d done last night—why else would a woman walk through the streets on a Sunday morning wearing yesterday’s crumpled clothes? She’d obviously spent the night at her lover’s house and they’d got so carried away that she hadn’t given her clothes a second thought.

  Squirming inwardly, she tiptoed out of Charlie’s bedroom and into the bathroom.

  A shower was out of the question—it would be way too noisy. She didn’t even dare risk splashing water on her face in case the sound woke him. Oh, what she would give for a pair of dark glasses to hide her eyes! She dressed swiftly. Her hair. Well, as long as she could find the clasp, she could pull it back so severely that nobody would notice just how mussed it was. All she had to do was brazen it out until she was back at her own flat. She could do that.

  ‘You look a mess,’ she whispered to her reflection. ‘And the mess you’re in is even worse. Why on earth did you go home with him at all last night? Why didn’t you just say thank you for the sandwich and leave?’

  She didn’t want to answer those questions. Didn’t want to face what she felt about Charlie Radley.

  She stared at her reflection. If anything, she had less dignity when she was dressed than she had when she’d been naked. She didn’t even know where to begin talking it over with Charlie. The longer she
stayed in his flat, the more likely it was that he’d wake up. She wasn’t ready to face him. And she didn’t belong here. She didn’t come from a world where the floors were proper polished hardwood, not laminate; where the rugs were expensive wool or silk, not some manmade fibre; and where the pictures on the wall were framed and signed originals rather than cheap and cheerful prints.

  Last night had been one of her biggest mistakes ever.

  And she needed some space between her and Charlie so she could work out how to deal with it.

  Quietly, she left the bathroom. She knew she ought to leave him at least a note, but she really didn’t know what to say to him. She’d call him later. Explain. For now, she just wanted to be home. Her own home. Where she belonged.

  She walked through to the kitchen. No sign of her clip anywhere. She didn’t want to risk searching for it either—the longer she stayed here, the more likely it was that he’d wake up and she’d have to face him. She needed to go. Now. She retrieved her shoes, handbag and jacket, and left Charlie’s flat, clicking the door closed behind her.

  Charlie stretched, yawned—and then sat bolt upright. He was alone in bed. Which meant something was very wrong—un-less he’d only dreamed what had happened last night. Though he was pretty sure he hadn’t been hallucinating, because he could still smell Sophie’s scent. Vanilla and chocolate. There was a dent in the pillow next to his, where she’d slept. But her side of the bed was empty—and, judging from the coolness of the bed linen, had been empty for some time.

  He frowned. He couldn’t hear the boiler going, so she couldn’t be in the bathroom. And there were no sounds from the kitchen, no scent of coffee. His frown deepened. Surely she was still here. They needed to talk after last night. They definitely needed to talk. No way would she have just left without a word. Not when she’d spent the night sleeping in his arms.

  And she had slept with him. He’d lain awake until the small hours after she’d fallen asleep, with his body curled protectively around hers. The only thing was, when he had gone to sleep, he’d slept extremely deeply. Vicky and Seb were both convinced he could sleep through an earthquake. So maybe she’d got up, had a shower and was sitting in his living room, reading a journal and waiting for him to wake up—too shy or too embarrassed to wake him herself.

  A swift glance round his bedroom told him that, whatever she was doing, she was fully dressed. Her clothes had gone, though his were still scattered on the floor where he’d dropped them last night.

  Last night, when he’d had Sophie naked in his bed.

  Frowning, he grabbed a clean pair of boxer shorts from his drawer, hauled them on and padded barefoot into his living room.

  No sign of Sophie.

  The bathroom was empty.

  So was the kitchen.

  Her shoes and her handbag were gone, too, which meant she’d left. Hurt prickled at the back of his neck. Why hadn’t she waited for him? Unless she’d been on duty. Yeah, that must be it. She’d probably left him a note.

  Nothing on the kitchen table.

  Nothing on the worktops.

  He returned to the living room. Nothing propped on the mantelpiece. No clearly visible scrap of paper or envelope or anything.

  Maybe she’d left him a note on his pillow and it had fallen down the back of the mattress or something.

  When a thorough search yielded nothing, he had to face it. Sophie had left. Without a word, without a note. She’d just left.

  It took Charlie two cups of very strong coffee to get his head around it. Sophie was clearly embarrassed about what had happened between them—well, probably more about what hadn’t happened—and this was a tactical retreat while she gathered her composure. If he called her, pushed her too hard, she’d probably back off even more. The best thing he could do was give her space. Let her come to terms with it. And—please, please, please—when she’d had time to think about it she’d realise that he wasn’t angry with her and he wasn’t going to push her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. And then, maybe, she’d trust him with herself.

  He was just making his third cup of coffee when the phone rang.

  He punched the air mentally and grabbed the receiver. Yes. It was her. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Good morning, bro’,’ Seb’s voice drawled into his ear. ‘You sounded rather eager just then. Expecting someone else to call, were you?’

  ‘No,’ Charlie lied, swallowing his disappointment. ‘And to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your dulcet tones at this time on a Sunday morning?’

  ‘Thought I’d better warn you. Vic got a call from La Mama this morning. She’s planning to come up to London some time soon.’ There was a pause. ‘Charlie, you’re not going to subsidise her this time.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I mean it.’ Seb made an exasperated noise. ‘The woman’s a vampire. She’s bleeding your bank account dry.’

  ‘She’s our mother, Seb. I promised Dad I’d look after her.’

  ‘There’s looking after, and there’s being taken advantage of. You’re such a soft touch where women are concerned. You let them walk all over you.’

  ‘I do not,’ Charlie retorted, stung.

  Though did Seb have a point? Was Charlie letting Sophie walk all over him?

  ‘Yes, you do. And, before you say it, I know that woman is our mother. Sometimes it wouldn’t hurt her to remember that and actually act like a mother instead of a sponge.’

  ‘Seb, I’m not in the mood for this.’

  There was a brief pause. ‘Charlie? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like it.’ Seb cleared his throat. ‘Want to talk?’

  To the world’s biggest cynic? No way would Charlie ever discuss last night with Seb. Seb would just say he was being suckered. ‘No. Last time I talked to you, you grassed to Vicky. Who decided to check Sophie out in person.’

  ‘We did have your best interests at heart.’ Seb paused. ‘Is that what’s wrong? Something’s happened between you and Sophie?’

  ‘No, it hasn’t.’ Which was most of the point. ‘Will you get off my case?’ Charlie snapped.

  ‘Hey. If she’s upset you, Vicky and I—’

  ‘Will do absolutely nothing. Stay out of it, Sebastian,’ Charlie warned. ‘Everything’s fine.’ He just wished he could be as confident as he sounded.

  ‘If you’re sure. Look, I can cancel my plans for this afternoon, if you want to go for a drink or something.’

  Seb—who was even more of a womaniser than he was a cynic—was offering to give up a hot date for him? Charlie’s irritation at his younger brother suddenly melted, and he grinned. ‘Watch it, Seb. You’re beginning to sound a bit too much like me.’

  ‘No chance. I don’t have rose-tinted glasses,’ Seb said, laughing back. ‘I’ll catch you later. If you change your mind, you know my mobile number.’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ Charlie replaced the receiver thoughtfully. No, Sophie wasn’t walking all over him. She just needed some time. She’d call him later. He was sure of it. For now, he’d go for a walk. Clear his head. And maybe she’d call when he got back.

  Thank goodness she was on a late shift, Sophie thought. It meant she had enough time to go home, shower, wash her hair, pour enough caffeine down her throat to steady her nerves, and be back to the white-coated professional everyone knew her as at the hospital.

  Even without dark glasses, Sophie managed to avoid anyone’s eyes on the way back to her flat by the simple strategy of keeping her gaze fixed to the ground and buying her tube ticket from the machine on the wall rather than the station clerk. But, despite the length of her walk, she was still no nearer knowing how to deal with this. What to say to Charlie. She’d made it even worse by running from his place without so much as a note.

  ‘Talk about stupid,’ she berated herself.

  After her third cup of coffee—and knowing that she only had five minutes before she had to leave for the hospital—she summoned up the co
urage to ring Charlie. Their department protocol was that all senior doctors had the consultant’s home number in case of emergencies. This wasn’t an emergency, but it certainly wasn’t a normal situation either.

  She waited for him to pick up the phone. Maybe he was still asleep.

  The answering-machine kicked in, with his familiar deep, posh voice. ‘Sorry, I can’t take your call just now. Leave a message after the beep.’

  She froze. What the hell did she say now? Sorry I ran out on you? Sorry I waited until the moment your body was going to slide into mine and changed my mind? Sorry I ruined your night?

  Nothing sounded right.

  She took a deep breath, and was about to speak when there was a second long beep and the phone went dead.

  Hell. He would have one of those machines that only gave you a limited time to record a message.

  She couldn’t bring herself to ring him again. And she would be late for work if she didn’t get a move on.

  Work. Was Charlie in today? As a consultant, he was probably off duty on a Sunday. Then again, he’d been in last night. Saturday night, the shift everyone hated working.

  Well, she’d deal with it when she had to. Right now, she had a job to do.

  To her relief, he wasn’t at the hospital when she walked into the ward. She went through the handover, then checked on Lois.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

  ‘Scared. Sore.’ Lois shuddered. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘Home, or to a safe place?’ Sophie asked gently. ‘We can get the police to arrange it, if you’d feel safer somewhere else. Or maybe you’ve changed your mind about calling your parents?’

  Lois shook her head. ‘I told the police it was a stranger, someone I didn’t know, but that wasn’t strictly true.’

  Statistics showed that most rapists were known to their victims, so Sophie wasn’t that surprised. ‘That’s OK. Nobody’s forcing you to tell anybody anything you don’t want to. It’s entirely your choice.’

  ‘I want to ring my mum, but I can’t. I just can’t.’ Lois wrapped her arms around herself. ‘How can I tell her that she’s going out with the man who did it?’