One Night...with Her Boss

by Annie O'Neil

  Two weeks. That was all they had left. Two weeks until the big North-South match. It was something he had never thought he’d dread.

  If what he’d had with Ali had only been that one extraordinary night at the hotel, then saying goodbye would have been much easier. She would definitely have been etched on his mind forever, and heaven knew going to the airport would never be a straightforward business again, but one night with this amazing woman would have been survivable.

  Now, with the few dozen nights they’d already notched up... Total annihilation. She’d nabbed him—hook, line and sinker. Getting over Ali at this juncture was going to be near on impossible. Which was why he had to start closing the doors.

  “Are you watching me sleep?” Ali cracked a single eye open, her fingers taking a lazy journey across his chest.

  “Hardly!” He protested with a grin. “That would be creepy.”

  “Yes.” She nodded in sleepy agreement. “That would. It’s not like you’d be falling for me, or anything daft like that.”

  Okay, mind reader. Enough of that.

  “Got it in one,” he replied lightly, as if feigning falling in love would hide the reality.

  “Yeah, right.” She replied with a cheeky grin. “As if The Monk would fall for his fluffy ballerina locum.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” He was straining to keep his voice bright. “What are you up to today?”

  “I was thinking of going into town to buy a lamp.” She pushed herself up on an elbow and began to thoughtfully trace a finger along his shoulder. “I only have the one, and I have to keep dragging it from the lounge into the bedroom when I want to read in bed.”

  Aidan laughed. “It’s a bit late in the game to be making yourself at home, isn’t it?”

  “That’s rich, coming from you.” She gave him a poke in the chest.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He knew what it meant, but it’d be interesting to have Ali’s take on his rather sparse décor.

  “You had the gall to come to my place when I’d been there all of two weeks and mock my one-sofa, two-chair existence, only for me to discover you lived virtually the same way after—how many years has it been, Dr. Tate?”

  “Five terribly busy years.”

  “Five years. And you have...let’s see...two more lamps than I do and a better-stocked larder. Oh, and more throw pillows than you can shake a stick at,” Ali teased, then fell back onto her pile of pillows. “If you like, I’ll give you my new lamp when I go.”

  Aidan rolled over onto his back. He didn’t want to think about that. Or discuss his own “bare bones” decorating style. Staring at the ceiling suddenly seemed less like being under the microscope.

  “It’s easier to clean. Easier to not get attached.”

  “And what are you not getting attached to? Bookshelves? Sets of drawers?” Ali’s voice was still warm with humor, but he definitely felt the conversation train taking a different route.

  “Things I can’t have.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  You, for one.

  He bought himself some more time. “Settling in just always seemed too much hassle. My life is out there—” he pointed out the window in the direction of the stadium “—not in here. Why waste time on home furnishings when my real investment is with the team? When I initially signed on this job was the promise of something more permanent than anything I’d have with a patient in hospital. I’d really get to know the team. Learn and grow with them. Help them.”

  “It’s a bit like that at my clinic.”

  “Yes, I suppose it would be. But with the team—I don’t know. I guess I felt I was signing on for something bigger. Something lasting. And then one player gets transferred, another signs off with injuries, coaches switch teams...” He trailed off. This was all getting a bit heavy for a Sunday morning. “And before you know it, your second-in-command leaves and is replaced by a nymphomaniac from the South.”

  “Hey! I don’t ever hear you saying no!” A full smile lit up Ali’s eyes before she pulled Aidan’s arm around her shoulder and plopped back down on to the pillow.

  “Very true. Then again—you’ll just be another thing to replace when you swan off back to the magical land of London.” Aidan traced his fingers along Ali’s arm.

  “You’d better not replace me!”

  “You’re the one with the contract.”

  “You know what I mean. It will be strange—going back...”

  Aidan bit back the urge to ask her to stay. To say she was welcome to extend their “deal” as long as she wanted.

  “Don’t be crazy—you can have anything you want back there.”

  “Not anything.” All the playfulness had drained from Ali’s voice.

  “Of course.” Aidan slapped his forehead. What an idiot. “Your mum.”

  “My mum...” Ali repeated softly. “I miss her more than anything in the world.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Poor little me!” Ali’s voice came out louder than she’d intended. This conversation had definitely veered toward Gloomsville. “All alone in the world!”

  “You’ve got friends down South, right?”

  Ali barked out a quick laugh, then put on a singsong voice. “The valuable resource of hindsight has allowed me to see that I have been a great boss—but not necessarily so good in the social skills department.”

  “And why is that, then?” Aidan kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. Having this conversation with Ali’s naked body semi-nestled into his was not familiar territory for him. Actually, having any sort of conversation with a naked woman beside him was relatively new. Ali new.

  “Oh... I just couldn’t count on...”

  “Couldn’t count on what?” Aidan pressed gently.

  It was like a light bulb being pinged on. Ali suddenly saw the situation as clear as a bell. “I had friends, and a teacher-cum-mentor who took care of me after my mum died. Then he died when I was in uni, and I guess I just short-circuited. I didn’t want friends anymore. I just wanted a family.”

  As the words came out of her mouth she wished she could reel them back in. What a thing to say in front of Mr. Can’t-and-Won’t-Commit!

  “Which is why I’ve come Up North to work with a bunch of testosterone-laden athletes.”

  Aidan threw her a bemused look. “Does working with rugby players put you off having a family?”

  “No!” She waved away his theory. “It pushes me out of my comfort zone. Reminds me there’s no one to depend upon but myself.”

  “You’ve got me!” Aidan remonstrated.

  “Ha!” Ali snorted. “For about two more weeks!” Had he not remembered the conditions surrounding their “friendship?” Work and play—two very separate things, with one very solid deadline.

  “And then what? London?”

  “Hmm. I’m not so sure about London. I guess I pack up my new lamp—if I ever get to the shops and buy one—or give it to you and see what’s next.”

  “You wouldn’t stick around? Stay Up North?” He made a stab at lifting his eyebrows with black-and-white movie star panache. “It’d be satisfying to know someone finally figured out things up here are better than in the big smoke.”

  “Who knows? What is this, anyway? The Northern Inquisition?” Ali filled the quiet space after her question with a laugh, wanting to escape the taut atmosphere their conversation had enshrouded them in.

  She didn’t want to leave. Not one bit. She was genuinely enjoying her work with the team and could easily see herself staying. But in two weeks the clock would run out and her days as medical practitioner to the North Stars would be over. More to the point, her days with Aidan would be over. She was dreading saying goodbye, so ignoring it seemed the easiest wa
y to go. Why play twenty questions?

  “No, it’s not an inquisition,” Aidan drawled. “But I was wondering...”

  “Wondering what?” Ali couldn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat. Would he ask her to stay?

  “I was actually wondering how I could pull my arm out from underneath your dead weight of a head so I could go meet my girls.”

  Ali’s eyes popped wide open, and quickly she pushed herself upright and away from him. “Excuse me?”

  “My girls. Didn’t I tell you about them?”

  Ali grabbed an armful of duvet and covered herself up, an expression of shock playing across her face. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered if you’d told me about your children.”

  It was Aidan’s turn to pop his eyes wide open. And then he started laughing. Hard.

  “Not my children, silly! Well, I mean—yes—in a way...”

  He didn’t stop laughing and it was now officially irritating.

  “This hasn’t really come out the way I meant it to.”

  “What hasn’t come out the way you meant it to, Aidan?”

  Ali’s steely-eyed gaze was hilarious. Aidan knew he could fix it right now if he wanted to—help her grimace relax into a smile. So why wasn’t he fixing it? The silence between them was humming with emotion and with a blast of clarity he realized how easy it was to imagine having children...having a family with Ali. The two of them and one, two, three—however many didn’t matter. But that sort of idyllic future wasn’t meant for him. History had been all too clear about that one. Best put on the brakes. All this talk of family, putting down roots, had clearly unbalanced him. Best return to firmer ground. Get real.

  “I coach a girls’ rugby team. Twelve and under.”

  Ali’s shoulders dropped back into place and—as he’d hoped—there was that smile of hers. The one that worked its way straight into his heart.

  “But it’s probably best you go on ahead with your lamp-shopping. You can’t come along to practice as my g—” He stopped himself before he finished the sentence, knowing it was already too late.

  “Come as your what?”

  Ali’s voice had turned investigative. He was making one hell of a hash of this.

  “Nothing—don’t worry. I don’t really know what I was saying.”

  “Were you going to say girlfriend?”

  She said the word as if it tasted of moldy cheese. Or, more accurately, as if the idea of her being his girlfriend was about as preposterous as things could get.

  “No.” Uh, yes—he had been going to say that.

  “Aidan Tate! You were going to say girlfriend!”

  “I was not!”

  “What?” Ali changed tack and stuck out her lower lip, trying her best to make a monster face. “Is the idea so unappealing?”

  He laughed, but couldn’t stop the curl of uneasiness shifting around his gut. Of course it would be great—better than great—to have Ali as his girlfriend, but that wasn’t how things worked. How this worked. They’d agreed. They’d shaken hands on it!

  Ali’s laughter broke through the silence. “I’m just messing with you, Tate. I know you didn’t mean that.”

  I did. I do. I can’t.

  “’Course not—I just meant I’m their coach, so you can’t take the mick out of me in front of the girls. You’re more than welcome to come, or you can wander off into town and lamp-shop to your heart’s content. Your choice.”

  “Sure thing, ding-a-ling.”

  Ali pushed herself out of the bed and pulled on a T-shirt and some tracksuit bottoms. Aidan let himself get lost in the graceful flow of her movements. He started when she spoke again.

  “I think I’ll take a raincheck on judging your coaching skills.”

  “You know—I’d love for you to meet the girls. It’s just...well... They’re used to it just being me and them.”

  “Right. Fine.”

  Aidan was smart enough to know that when a woman said “fine” the situation was anything but. He was pretty sure he’d just stuck his foot in it. Big-time.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” She gave him a wave and turned to go.

  “Great. Or see you later?” Aidan gave a wave to her disappearing figure, before deflating against the bed’s headboard and smacking himself on the head.

  Girlfriend.

  He hadn’t let himself call any of the women he’d seen over the years a girlfriend. In truth, none of his “relationships” had warranted it. He’d made it clear as day that he wasn’t one for long-term. And now here he was, tables turned, trying to convince himself—no, to convince Ali—that he didn’t want her to be his girlfriend, when he knew deep in his heart that was all he wanted. All he wanted and more.

  * * *

  Ali stared at the recipe she’d ripped out of the Sunday paper. What was braising steak anyway? Could you get that at a butchers? Were butchers even open on a Sunday? How long did one “reduce” stock? Why weren’t there more details? Disasterville. This was never going to happen.

  She flicked the paper over to see what another option might be.

  Super Simple Pizza.

  Pizza! Perfect. She could do that. Easy-peasy.

  She’d already cleaned her flat, done all the laundry and folded her clothes. Three times. Then she’d gone out shopping, totally forgetting what it was she’d left home for in the first place, and returned home empty-handed. To the darkness. When she’d remembered she had gone out for a lamp. Oh, and then she’d gone for a run by the river. A long one.

  She was still buzzing with excess energy and needed to take things down a notch. Aidan always looked so relaxed when he cooked, so she thought she’d give it a whirl. Not that he was her go-to resource for how to fix a problem.

  Urrrrrrgh!

  She was tense. Shoulders-up-in-her-ears tense. The whole debacle that morning with Aidan over the word girlfriend just made her cringe.

  She didn’t know why she’d said it. Well—she did know why she’d said it. It was ruddy obvious Aidan was laying down the ground rules. He didn’t want her involved in his personal life. They weren’t “a thing.”

  Which she knew! Of course she knew... Even though that little-girl, pink-clothes-wearing, dreaming-of-princesses part of her occasionally slipped through the chinks of her armor and let herself imagine...what if?

  No. There was no “what if?” about it. They’d made a deal, shaken hands and agreed. They were “Colleagues Who Canoodled.” Some mighty fine canoodling to boot. The type of canoodling that had sunbeams shooting out of her ears and little sighs of contentment slipping past her lips like a happy, sexy kitten.

  Well. A mature kitten. A tigress? Maybe the whole cat analogy was a bad one. At this juncture any analogy was a bad one, because she didn’t know if she’d just blown the lid off of what they had by—by what, exactly? Daring to dream of something more?

  Ali began yanking open the kitchen cupboards on a quest for some zero-zero flour, as per the so-called “super-simple” recipe. She knew she didn’t have any, and suddenly the fact that any old flour wouldn’t do was a further source of irritation. The contents of her culinary arsenal hadn’t really changed from when she’d moved in.

  Aidan generally cooked when they were at his place, and they’d have takeaway when they were at hers. And they’d had a fair few away games, too. Away games when, given the chance, she and Aidan would send each other a drink with a wink and a bar mat complete with a hastily scribbled room number. And then... Bah!

  This whole thing was a disaster. She didn’t know why she’d thought she’d be able to rein her heart in and just see Aidan as a bit of edible eye candy when they weren’t at work. He was so much more to her. Smart, thoughtful, funny, generous, with about the best head of hair she’d ever run her fingers through in—well, foreve
r. Not to mention the possessor of a bagful of exceedingly sensual moves that had released more than one cry of rapture from her.

  Surprise! She’d never known she was a screamer.

  She stomped to the kitchen counter and stared at the recipe some more, as if the ingredients would magically fly out of the piece of paper and assemble themselves into a mushroom and mascarpone pizza before her very eyes.

  Nope. No good. All she could see was Aidan, giving her his come-hither man winks. Urrrgh! They were so good together, and as every minute passed it was getting harder and harder to contain her willful heart. She flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the remote. She wasn’t really hungry anyway. Perhaps a bit of culture would stem her appetite.

  She clicked on the television. Her stomach gurgled.

  Terrific.

  The buzz of her phone had her launching herself across the flat to answer it. Cole was the only one who ever rang “out of hours,” and she could do with a dose of her pal right now.

  She didn’t bother to check the number before answering, “Oh, Lordy, I need to hear your voice!”

  “Five hours too long for you, then?”

  Ah. Not the person she’d expected.

  “Sorry, Aidan. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Oh, so it wasn’t my voice you were missing?”

  Not just your voice...

  “What’s up? How did your training session go?”

  “I was just calling to see if you had anything in that pathetic excuse of a kitchen of yours.”

  Mind reader.

  “I’m cool.”

  “I know that, Ali, but I’m guessing you don’t have anything for your dinner. How does pizza grab you?”

  Spooky.

  “Mushroom and mascarpone?”

  “Just picked it up from the shop. Put your oven on. See you in twenty.”

  Ali practically skipped to the oven to flick it on to a high heat—they both liked their pizza super-crispy, and it always needed a top-up sear after its journey. And there’d be a huge green salad with peppers and tomatoes tossed in. Not that they were beginning to know each other’s preferences or anything. Like a boyfriend and girlfriend would. No...nothing like that at all. Just a couple of colleagues sharing a companionable pizza...