One Night...with Her Boss

by Annie O'Neil

  Even though she knew this whole thing—whatever it was—was temporary, was just “matey,” she felt safe, cared for. Protected. Was this what it felt like to let someone in? Of course, there was a time limit with Aidan. They’d shaken hands on it. That kind of deal was binding. Just a couple of months. Just enough time to get ready to move on.

  “Want to run over to yours and change?” Aidan moved his chin off of her head and took a glance at his watch. “I’ll meet you by the river in ten minutes.”

  “And if after two minutes I decide I want to back out and come home...?”

  “I’ve got a few unopened box sets waiting to be watched.” He rubbed his palms together gleefully.

  “What kind?”

  “Zombies, intergalactic warzones and old Westerns.”

  Ali couldn’t help the crinkle of dismay from appearing on her face. Yuck! Not her genres in any way. Okay. Deep breath. She could do this. Bike-riding it was.

  “See you in ten.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “DO YOU SEE those swans up ahead? Lovely, aren’t they?”

  “Sure are!” Ali was laughing now.

  Aidan had been playing the distraction game non-stop since they’d hit the bicycle path, and by this point he knew his psychological tactics were well and truly transparent.

  He was proud of her. Seriously, right into the marrow of his bones proud. When they’d started out, just wheeling the bikes across the street at a traffic crossing, she had looked whiter than a ghost. Rosy cheeks and glittering blue eyes wouldn’t even begin to describe the energy pouring from her now. He would like to think he’d had a small part in helping her, but she was a strong woman. She would’ve reached this place on her own eventually.

  Sometimes getting a small push in the right direction was all you needed. Too bad he couldn’t take a dose of the same medicine. Maybe then he’d be open to the possibility of love again. Too bad life just hadn’t handed him the right cards.

  He glanced across at Ali. She was grinning away at the swans circling at the river’s edge. It was going to be hard to say goodbye when the time came.

  “Pub’s not too far beyond them.”

  “Aidan Tate! That’s exactly what you said after the locks, after the chestnut trees, and after the ducks! I’m beginning to think this pub is a bit of fiction on your part.”

  Aidan looked at her as if he were aghast she could suggest such a thing. “I have done no such thing! Look.” He pointed ahead as a gabled roof just started to become visible in the distance. “I can smell the sticky toffee from here. Race you?”

  “You’re on.”

  Ali would know if he let her win, so the only fair thing to do would be to give her a run for her money. Head bent, stomach muscles tightened, he began to press the pedals of his bike with all the welly he could muster.

  * * *

  “This has to be the gooiest pudding I’ve ever had.” Ali put the spoon back in her mouth, knowing that until she had devoured every last drop of toffee she just wouldn’t, in good conscience, be able to leave the table. It would be rude to the chef not to lick the plate absolutely clean. Fifteen miles on a bike—not ten!—was worth every calorie-loaded morsel.

  “You could always eat the plate.” Aidan’s voice was ripe with sarcasm.

  “Hey, mister!” Ali waggled the shiny clean spoon at him. “This whole thing was your idea. You should feel proud all of your brainwashing worked. The dragon has been slayed.”

  As she spoke the words she realized there just might be some truth in them. She would always miss her mother. Deeply so. But burying herself in her work would never bring her back, no matter how hard she tried. Nor would moving on every time she felt as if she just might be getting a friend—or in this case a lover. But she wasn’t quite ready to go there yet. This “friends with benefits” thing would do for now. Even so, today felt like a bit of a breakthrough—almost as if she was looking at the world through a fresh lens.

  “I’m delighted to hear it, O Warrior Princess.” Aidan gave her a wink before trying to steal a bit more pudding. Unsuccessfully.

  “Thank you.” Ali locked eyes with him.

  “For what? Letting you eat all of my pudding as well as your own?”

  “Don’t be coy. You know as well as I do I might never have ridden a bike again if it weren’t for you.”

  Aidan leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin on the weave of his fingers. “As much as I would love to bask in the glory of your leap forward in the cycling world, I am quite convinced the bulk of the credit lies on your side of the table.”

  “How do you work that out? You’re the one who suggested the bike ride.”

  “You’re the one who got on the bike.”

  Ali felt her lips stretch into a huge grin. “I did, didn’t I?” She swiped the spoon in a Zorro-esque X gesture, scooped up the last bite of pudding and then airplaned it over to Aidan. “I suppose it’ll still be a wait-and-see-what-happens when I get back to London...not so sure about the busy streets there. But I still think I owe you a thank-you.”

  “Well, this will do nicely.” Aidan took the spoon from her hand and consumed the enormous mouthful in one fell swoop, eyes staying with hers as he finished it with a satisfied cartoon gulp. “Are you looking forward to going back?”

  Not really. Best dodge that one.

  “It’ll be interesting to see what my colleague has done to my practice.”

  “That’s a lot of trust to put into someone.”

  “Cole Manning is my Old Reliable in the friend department. We went to med school together.”

  “Surely you’ve got a stack of those?”

  “No.”

  Aidan leaned back in his chair. “You sound pretty certain about that.”

  Ali sighed and tipped her head into her hands, taking her time to run her thumbs along her temples before looking back up. This man was intent on digging up all her old baggage today, wasn’t he? She was in a great mood, feeling proud, and churning up those dark days, when she’d shut just about everyone who cared for her out of her life... Ugh. She’d done enough dragon-slaying for the day.

  “I think I’ve done more than enough baring of my soul today. Maybe it’s time I turned the tables?” She shot him an impish grin.

  “Fancy some banoffee pie before we hit the road? Potassium is good fuel!”

  Ali laughed. “Nice conversation-changer, Tate!”

  Fair enough. Maybe he didn’t have any old baggage. Then again...that was unlikely. Everyone had baggage—it just came in different shapes and sizes. She’d play along and give Aidan a break. She owed him one for today. Big-time.

  “I think I’ve probably eaten more than the entire ballet company at this one sitting! Ballerinas don’t really do puddings. Nor do gymnasts. It’s been great being around people who eat!”

  “What made you pick dance injuries as your specialty?”

  “It sort of evolved, I guess. No. That’s not right. I’d made my mum a promise. She dedicated her life to helping me reach my dream, so I thought it was only right that I help other dancers reach theirs. A karma balancer, I guess.”

  He nodded, eyebrows lifted with approval.

  “So, you’re totally on your own now?”

  “Yup. That about sums it up! What about you?”

  Now she really did need to switch the tables. Ali felt a fresh sting of tears tickling at the back of her throat. Their day together had been so great—it’d be a shame to mess it up now.

  “Oh, you know...” Aidan looked off toward the fire burning in the far corner of the pub.

  “No, I don’t. That’s why I asked you.” Ali tried to be playful with her taunt but could see there was a lot of hidden history in those eyes of his. Not from anything she’d caused, but there was hurt lurking i
n there somewhere.

  There was definitely more to this man than being an über-confident charm machine who picked up girls at airports. She’d learned that over and over again from the team. They respected him. Why on earth someone so talented, not to mention big and bouncy-balloon-gorgeous was single was beyond her.

  “What do you say we race home, get back into bed and watch one of those box sets?” Aidan crumpled up his paper serviette and popped it on to the table.

  And the crowd goes wild at yet another artful dodge by Dr. Aidan Tate!

  “I think I’ll leave the zombies to you. I’ve got a couple of exciting loads of laundry to catch up on.” She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. If she was going to keep her heart sewed up tight, twenty-four-seven with Aidan Tate was simply not an option. “But, Aidan, seriously, I want to thank you for today. I didn’t think I’d ever be on a bike saddle again, and you’ve just helped me tick off one of my New Year’s resolutions!”

  “Which one was that?”

  “‘Poke Your Demons in the Eye’—number seventeen,” she answered without a moment’s hesitation.

  Aidan laughed heartily. It was nice to see the smile back on his face. Maybe one day he’d rate her as someone he could confide in in the same way he’d been there for her.

  He pushed his chair back and grabbed his bicycle helmet off of the adjacent chair. Today obviously wasn’t going to be “one day.”

  “Just how many of these resolutions do you have to get through?”

  Ali felt a light flush color her cheeks. She might just possibly have gone a bit overboard in the resolutions department.

  “Seventy-three.”

  “Ha!” Aidan hooted to the ceiling. “And you’ve done one? Harty—you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Oh, I’ve done at least two!” she shot back, before she thought better of it.

  “Oh, reeeeally?”

  He drew out the second word, making it all smoky...sexy. Sheeesh. Did the man do anything that didn’t make her want to rip his clothes off?

  “Yes,” she responded primly.

  “And what exactly was this other resolution?”

  “Well, it wasn’t ‘Have a One-Night Stand at the Airport With the Man Who is Your New Boss.’” She popped on her helmet and snapped the straps together with a flourish. “It was ‘Try New Things.’”

  Aidan put his hand in the small of her back as they headed toward the riverside exit to the pub. “I see. So, what new things did you try?”

  “I had a one-night stand at the airport with the man who it turned out was my new boss.”

  Would he take that hand off the small of her back? She was feeling sassy. Super-sassy. She made a beeline for her bicycle, which was chained to a railing at the river’s edge.

  “Sounds exciting.” Aidan was right behind her, his breath teasing along the length of her neck.

  “It was.”

  He turned her around to face him. Heavenly bodies, he knew how to unleash the butterflies. His fingers brushed her cheek as he unclipped her helmet, removed it and pulled her close to him in one incredibly fluid move. Didn’t this kind of thing only happen in movies?

  “The guy must’ve been something special. To catch the eye of a girl like you.”

  He tipped her chin up with a finger and her eyes caught the hungry look in his.

  “Oh, he was all right...” she managed to whisper. Whimper was more like it.

  “Sounds like he had room for improvement.” Aidan’s mouth began a torturously slow descent toward her own.

  “Like I said, he’s all right...” Her voice faded away.

  When their lips finally met Ali felt a rush of desire surge through her so powerfully she could hardly believe it was real. The kiss was soft, tender, and then passionately loaded with all the triumph and depth of feeling she’d experienced that day. And yet—it was just a kiss.

  Just a kiss? That’d be like calling Rudolph Nureyev just a chap who wore tights. If they hadn’t been in public she probably would’ve torn Aidan’s fleece and everything else off him right then and there. Not that he brought out the wild animal in her or anything. Or that it was part of their “deal.”

  “Well, then!” Ali pulled back from Aidan, using the railing as ballast. “Guess we better get you back to your box sets!”

  Aidan dropped another one of those flirty winks in her direction. “I’d hate to keep you from your laundry.”

  Oh, we’re getting to the laundry, all right! Just the emotional kind. And it feels an awful lot like the spin cycle!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “SO, HAVE THINGS improved with Tate?”

  In a manner of speaking...

  “They’re going all right.” Ali crossed her fingers, relieved that her friend and new head of En Pointe couldn’t see her face. She was a terrible liar. They were having their weekly “clinic catch-up” chat, and keeping Aidan off of the topic list was getting harder.

  “When I worked with him he was definitely a hard nut to crack—definitely keeps himself to himself—but I thought you two would hit it off.”

  That’s one way to put it.

  Better stay on safer territory. “So, what have you done to my practice? How has the team taken to your new-fangled American ways?”

  “Oh, I’d say I’ve been dragging this little house that Ali built into the twenty-first century!”

  “What?” Ali sat bolt-upright. She had a Class A clinic and knew as well as her former classmate did that it was miles ahead of other clinics in the city, let alone the country. He was lucky she trusted him so much.

  “Chillax, Lockhart. Don’t worry. I’ve actually dragged it back a few centuries. One of the girls—the Russian one—”

  “Which Russian one? There are heaps of them!” Ali couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I don’t know—Katarina, Alexandra, Olga—anyhoooow...” Cole Manning drew out the word in his usual leisurely Southern drawl. The man sure could drag out a story. “I got an acupuncturist in to help her with some of the tendonitis. Seems to have made a difference.”

  “That’s great! It’s probably Alexandra—the ballet doesn’t have many Olgas. At least not the way you say it.”

  “How do I say it?” Cole was laughing now, too.

  “Like anyone called Olga is a troll. Does she have long blond hair?”

  “What do you want from me, Ali? They’ve all either got long blond or long black hair. The least you could’ve done was color-code them a bit more for me!”

  “Listen, mister!” Ali cried, despite the laughter burbling away in her throat. “If you mess with my clinic—”

  “Hold on, girl. Don’t you mean my clinic? That was the deal, wasn’t it? I get you a top locum position Up North and you keep your mitts off while I have my wicked way with En Pointe—Britain’s number one destination for ballerinas and gymnasts on the mend.”

  “Cole Manning—you just remember I have put my life’s work into that place. If you—”

  “Easy, there, tiger. I’m only messing with you. Everything’s fine. The clients are fine—the list is growing, in fact.”

  “What? Who?” Ali sat up straight. She loved a new challenge as much as the next doctor, but equally she knew all of the local prima ballerinas personally—and a new client meant a new injury. An injury that could spell the end of a career.

  “Erm—let me have a look.”

  She could hear papers being shuffled across a desk. “You haven’t made my—your—desk a complete pigsty, have you, Cole?”

  Ali grinned at the phone as she spoke the words. Of course he had. The man was a certified genius—but he scored in the negatives when it came to tidiness. So much for the “tidy desk, tidy mind” adage.

  “Look, Little Miss Everything Has
Its Correct Time and Place, I thought this whole switcheroo was to shake things up a bit?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Yeah, but nothin’.” Now Cole was serious. “You did not trek up to the far North of England and surround yourself with a bunch of testosterone-laden menfolk just to keep everything clinical and perfect like you always do.”

  “I hardly think—”

  “That’s precisely your problem, Ali. You think too much. Stop it. Live a little, why don’tcha?”

  If only he knew.

  “You’re lucky you said all that with your cute Southern accent, Cole. Otherwise, I might have half a mind to come down and clean up my—your—desk right now,” she playfully sniped back.

  But his words had the sting of truth about them. Then again, one-night stands, kickboxing and having a time and date-stamped affair were all pretty big steps in the Leaping Emotional Hurdles department, right?

  * * *

  Aidan couldn’t resist. He lightly traced his finger along the lock of hair shading Ali’s sleeping face and tucked it back behind her ear. Fourteen. That was the number of light freckles that made up a tiny constellation across her nose. Two. The number of nibbly, kissable, lush lips he was currently trying to resist. Two. The number felt leaden now. The number of weeks left in Ali’s contract.

  He gave her cheek a stroke with the back of his hand and rolled onto his back, his arm still trapped by her head.

  She was a snuggler. And he had to admit he was loving every wiggly, cuddly, close-as-you-can-get moment of being with her. And it wasn’t just the sex. Make no mistake—the sex was good. Ridiculously good. But Ali was the whole package, and as the days wore on—or ran out—he was feeling less and less like this whole “what goes on the road, stays on the road” affair was fair.

  Ali deserved more. Someone who would—could—open up his heart and giftwrap her in lashings of love. Deep, full-bodied love.