‘Let’s just say I don’t think Mrs Q will be nominating me for Locum of the Year.’
‘She’ll get over it. I’ve no doubt she’ll soon be drooling in your wake like May and Barbara were this evening.’
He spluttered, almost spitting out his last mouthful. ‘They were what?’
She tossed him another raised eyebrow. ‘Oh, please. Don’t tell me you don’t love the idea of two old dears fighting over their knitting for you.’
He gave her a cocky smile. ‘Hey, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.’
Truth was, he hoped Lauren would enter the ring and go for gold as well.
Chapter Nine
It didn’t take long for word of Dr Tom Lewis to spread through Hope Junction. With the wedding of the year now over and the honeymooners enjoying their time away, the small town gossips needed something else to focus on. And the new, very good-looking and seemingly eligible doctor was it. He was the topic on the tip of people’s tongues wherever Lauren went, and because the guy in question was staying on her turf, everyone thought they had the right to interrogate her. She couldn’t buy milk or get a drink at About Coffee Time without somebody stopping to ask how the new doctor was.
Even the two places Lauren usually sought solace—her home and the hospital—had become places of torture and frustration. The latter of the sexual persuasion.
At home Tom would waltz around wearing nothing but board shorts and a smile that made her toes curl. That would have been hellish enough but he also constantly found ways to accidentally brush up against her, which was both tantalising and tormenting. And the things he said! At first she thought maybe he acted that way around all women—an inherent flirt, every bit her brother’s best mate—but she’d watched him with the other nurses and he was always the consummate professional. Apart from her, the only women he flirted with were the old dears in the residential wing, and they lapped up every over-the-top compliment like kittens drinking cream.
Work was pure torture. Tom visited more than Hannah Bates or any other locum ever had and he didn’t just do his rounds; he often stayed after hours to chat, flaunting that gorgeousness right in her face. And it wasn’t just his good looks that were getting under her skin—she loved the way he was with her elderly friends. That first night when he’d played Monopoly with Alf and Ned hadn’t been an anomaly; he’d played some sort of game every night since. The other residents were now involved too, their bedtime having been pushed back as they sat around the dining room table arguing over Uno or Cluedo. The old loves were happier than Lauren had ever seen them. The kindness he showed to the residents was almost as attractive as the rest of his package, but she’d found it best not to dwell on things like that.
Wherever she turned, there he was looking all dreamy and irresistible, offering her coffee, another Diet Coke or a lift to the swimming pool to do their morning laps.
Couldn’t he tell how much he was affecting her? The first morning that he’d waited in the kitchen for her wearing his board shorts and towel over his shoulder, she’d almost fainted at the sight. She’d had to pretend otherwise and suffer through the two-minute drive to the pool, his lovely muscular thighs only inches from her own. Even swimming butterfly had barely put a dent in her pent-up frustration.
Her laps were taking longer than usual because she kept getting distracted, peering through her goggles at the impressiveness of Tom powering through the clear blue. Her insides melted with every single stroke he took. And he always leapt out of the pool ahead of her, grabbing her towel before she could and slipping it over her shoulders. When his fingers brushed against her skin, she’d have to chomp down on her lower lip to stop from crying out. So many times she’d almost spun around and hit him with a big smoocheroo.
She deserved a medal for restraint.
It had been eight days—and yes she was counting, every single one of them—since they’d first locked eyes in the hospital treatment room, and she was beginning to wonder if her resolution wasn’t the bees knees after all. She was almost certain the locals had them sleeping together anyway—they couldn’t imagine Lauren sharing a house with a red-blooded hunk and not taking advantage—so really, what was the point in being so damn prim and proper?
She could barely concentrate on anything bar the fantasy of his lips on hers, her legs wrapped around his waist as he took her roughly against a wall. Her dreams were vivid and inventive but they weren’t enough. Not nearly. She wanted the real thing and her attraction to Tom felt stronger than anything she’d had for any other man. Was this what going without did to a girl?
If having Tom constantly buzzing about like a (sexy) fly wasn’t bad enough, Mrs Q had returned from Katanning with confirmation of a hairline hip fracture and a UTI that required stronger antibiotics than could be taken home with her. Although she was sleeping in the normal wing of the hospital, she’d once been good friends with Barbara and thus demanded to spend her days in the residents’ lounge area. Her portable bed, to which she was confined, took up a ridiculous amount of floor space and gave her the perfect throne from which to order Lauren and the other staff about.
Once upon a time Lauren had thought Flynn’s grandma a sweet old lady who crocheted tea-cosies for the CWA craft stall and sang in the church choir at Christmas. She’d been wrong. That was all for show; underneath it all Mrs Q was one seriously scary old dame. Some people were good patients and others weren’t—it seemed that the only way Hilda Quartermaine could make herself feel better was to harass everyone around her.
Like now for instance. Lauren had just settled the girls down for a bit of post dinner TV, and was looking forward to a break herself, when Mrs Q clapped her hands together. ‘This show bores me. Lauren, why don’t you get out the hospital Christmas decorations and we’ll brighten this place up a bit? Add some festive cheer.’
Lauren wanted to ask what exactly she meant by ‘we’—it wasn’t as if Hilda could jump from her bed and stand on a chair to put a star on the top of the tree. But she bit down on the sarcasm and said, ‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’
Tom chose that moment to appear round the corner. ‘What’s a bit early?’ he asked, tossing around his too-hot-for-words grin. She wished he’d dress like a proper doctor. The faded jeans and dark polo-neck t-shirt he had on now made him look more like a film star than a man of medicine.
Mrs Q—having quickly forgiven him for her trip in the ambulance—beamed at him. ‘I think it’s time to put up the hospital Christmas decorations, but Lauren here is intent on playing Scrooge. She thinks it’s too early.’
‘Bah humbug.’ May cackled from her recliner. Lauren shot her a warning look.
Tom took a few steps into the room so he was closer to the semicircle of old ladies, but it was Lauren he looked at. His shiny white teeth sparkled at her and his eyes were playful as he said, ‘It is the beginning of December. The city supermarkets have had their decorations up since Easter.’
Trying to ignore the unnerving scent of his cologne or body wash or whatever the hell it was, Lauren ground her teeth together and bit down on the urge to tell Tom that a) this was none of his business, and b) she didn’t give a damn if the city supermarkets kept their decorations up all year round. ‘In that case, Dr Lewis—’ she gave him a sickly sweet smug smile ‘—I’m more than happy for you to do the honours.’
He didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’d love to, Nurse Simpson, but I don’t know where the tree and tinsel are kept.’
She tilted her head to one side in victory. ‘I can show you.’
He turned slightly and gestured down the corridor. ‘Lead the way.’
Less than two seconds passed before Lauren realised her mistake. The tree and tinsel, as he called it, was kept in an isolated storeroom at the back of the hospital. A small, dark, semi-enclosed space. She halted and held up her hand. ‘On second thought, why don’t you wait with the ladies?’
‘And leave you to carry all the heavy boxes? I don’t think so, Lauren.’ The way he said he
r name made every cell in her body hot and bothered. She imagined him crying it out in the throes of passion and her core muscles tightened and clenched.
‘I’m quite capable of carrying a couple of boxes,’ she scoffed, blinking to try to banish that illicit thought.
And then he put his hand against her arm and said in a low, mesmerising voice, ‘Stop fighting it, Lauren.’
Her cells melted again. She swallowed, totally flummoxed now, and certain he wasn’t simply talking about who was going to carry a few boxes. Somehow she managed to shake off his touch and continue down the corridor, hyper aware of his strides matching hers as they headed towards their destination. As they walked by the nurses’ desk, Lauren saw Taryn—a part-timer with a penchant for Pilates and gossip—raise her dark eyebrows.
‘Christmas decorations,’ Tom explained, not at all perturbed by the thoughts that were obviously running through Taryn’s head.
To get to the storeroom, they also had to pass reception (which was thankfully closed at this time of night) and the kitchen (which unfortunately had a couple of nosy and talkative care assistants cleaning up the remains of dinner). Despite knowing they’d been seen, Lauren’s awareness heightened the closer they got to the storeroom. This end of the hospital was dimly lit in the evening and she thought about what old Lauren might have done with this opportunity. Pretending to trip and fall on top of Tom wouldn’t have been out of the question. Neither would groping her way up.
Her cheeks burned and practically her whole body tingled, but she mentally told old Lauren to take a hike. She wasn’t that person anymore.
‘The stuff’s in here,’ she said, not daring to look at Tom as she pushed open the storeroom door. She immediately felt for the light switch, flooding the small room so that it almost blinded them.
‘After you.’ Tom smiled suggestively as he gestured into the confined space.
Even if Lauren weren’t skilled in the game of flirting, it would have been impossible to misread the desire in his eyes. She’d been trying to ignore it—his and hers—all week.
‘I thought you were here to carry the heavy boxes. They’ll be those ones at the back—the ones labelled “Christmas Decorations”. I’ll grab that.’ She reached past him to the tree, which was off to one side, undressed but still in one piece because no one had bothered to box it up last year. She couldn’t wait to wrap her hands around its plastic pines; anything to keep them from reaching out to Tom.
But he stepped forward at the same time she did and their bodies collided in the doorway. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the hard planes of his chest against the softness of her breasts. His hands came up and landed on her waist to steady her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, looking into her eyes.
She couldn’t speak. Her heart was beating so damn fast that the breath seemed to have been sucked from her lungs. His lips were mere centimetres from hers, his masculine jawline with its delicious smattering of five o’clock shadow close enough to touch. Her fingers twitched. That cologne she’d smelled earlier made her head spin in a potently good way.
She ached for his touch, and it suddenly seemed pointless to deny herself this simple pleasure when he was so obviously attracted to her as well. She felt her resolve slipping. Her head inched forward and her insides tightened as he moved to close the gap between them.
His lips touched down ever so lightly on hers and sparks ignited all over her body. She melted against him, desperate to feel and taste as his hands slipped around her back and snuck up into her hair. He cradled her head and pulled her even closer as his tongue snuck into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
Swooning, she let out a moan of pure bliss—he was every bit the good kisser she’d known he would be and she was desperate to have him. Still lip-locked, he gently swivelled her around so that she was up against the door jamb and then slid one thigh between her legs. Need pulsed as her desire hit fever pitch. The hands that had been tangling in her hair trekked lower, teasing the soft flesh below her neck. She gasped as his lips dipped to kiss her there.
‘You’re gorgeous,’ he murmured, pulling back a moment to gaze into her eyes. Bedazzled by his kiss and touch, she couldn’t manage a word. He reached out as if to close the door behind them, but froze when they both heard footsteps coming down the hall.
Lauren’s resolve reared its head and slammed into her, scolding her lack of decorum and her utterly unprofessional behaviour. She palmed her hands against Tom’s chest and pushed hard. Surprised, he stumbled back and steadied himself just as Taryn appeared in the doorway.
‘I was wondering if you need any help carrying the decorations?’ Taryn said, eyeing them with suspicion.
Lauren cringed. If she was half as flushed as she felt, Taryn would be able to guess exactly what they’d been up to and what likely would have happened if she hadn’t made such a timely—or untimely—appearance. If Taryn hadn’t interrupted, Lauren would quite possibly have added hospital storeroom to the long list of unusual places where she’d had sex.
Shame washed over her and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Was something wrong with her? She was thirty years old, not fourteen. At her age, she should be able to control her hormones.
‘Actually, it would be great if you could help Tom. I’ll take my dinner break.’ Before either of her colleagues could reply, Lauren rushed past them and headed for the staff bathroom. She bolted the door shut behind her and stared at herself in the mirror. The face looking back repulsed her. With her ponytail half out of its band, lipstick smeared across her cheek and her shirt ruffled, she looked more like a drunken tart than a professional. Tears fell and she prayed that by the time she emerged, Tom would have gone. She couldn’t bear to face him just yet.
Chapter Ten
‘No, no, no, that’s not right at all.’
Back in the residential wing, Tom turned to face Mrs Q, May and Barbara as they tried to tell him how to dress the hospital’s crummy old Christmas tree. The place was in serious need of some new decorations and he was in serious danger of losing his temper. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that these ladies had little joy in life—the least he could do was try to appease them in the decoration department. But he simply couldn’t concentrate on the task.
His lips were still buzzing from their brush with Lauren’s. Not to mention the rest of his body. He was tight all over, but physical release wasn’t his first priority. He couldn’t forget the look of horror in Lauren’s eyes when Taryn had almost stumbled across them in the act. It was more than just embarrassment at being caught in an unprofessional clinch—she’d seemed genuinely appalled by what they’d done.
It was just a kiss—albeit a fairly heated one—but they hadn’t done anything seedy. He wanted to do it again. And more. Yet her reaction worried him. Had he misread the attraction between them? He’d thought he was pretty good at reading female body language, but Lauren was harder to work out than one of his logic puzzles.
‘Are you even listening?’ Hilda Quartermaine’s irritated question broke his reverie.
‘I think Dr Lewis has other things on his mind,’ Taryn said coolly. She’d been watching the goings-on from a stool next to Ned’s recliner.
He ignored the nurse and looked to Hilda and the other ladies. ‘Sorry. How do you suggest I hang the tinsel, Mrs Q?’
She began a series of elaborate instructions, telling him to twist it evenly around the tree. When she finally gave her tick of approval, he started on the actual Christmas decorations—baubles and fake candy canes. By the time he’d strung up the fairy lights and put a Merry Christmas banner across the mantelpiece of the fireplace, he was exhausted and it was time for the residents to head to bed.
Like clockwork, Lauren returned and, without even a glance in his direction, set to work.
‘Would you like me to help Ned again?’ he asked
‘Sure, that’d be great.’ But she didn’t look up as she replied, and the ill feeling in Tom’s gut intensified. He didn�
��t want things to be awkward between them.
‘Okay then.’ He placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘You ready?’
Ned nodded and Tom stood there ready to assist if needed. As he went through the motions of helping him use the toilet, brush his teeth, get into his pyjamas and climb into bed, Tom’s mind never strayed far from Lauren working away in the other rooms. He said goodnight to Ned and then went out into the corridor, torn between hanging around for Lauren and going home to wait for her there. Either way, he didn’t want either of them to go to sleep with the way things were between them.
Outside Ned’s room he met Alf on his way home. ‘You heading for the car park?’ Alf asked.
‘Uh, yeah.’ Tom looked across the corridor to where Lauren was still assisting May in the opposite room.
‘Are you enjoying your time in Hope Junction?’ Alf asked as they started to walk. Although still sharp of mind and fairly fit for his age, Alf was slower than Tom and he slowed his pace to match.
‘So far, so good. It’s a nice town. Have you lived here long?’
‘All my life.’ Alf’s tone told Tom he viewed this as a good thing.
‘How about Nancy?’
‘We went to school together, got married when we were both only twenty, had a gorgeous family. Our oldest son runs the farm now with his wife and kids. We’ve had a good life but old age is a cruel thing.’
‘It is,’ Tom agreed.
Alf seemed in the mood to chat. His steps got even slower as they approached the exit. ‘I can’t stand leaving her here every evening,’ he admitted. ‘I feel like I’ve let her down by not being able to take care of her at home. But she started to wander, you know. And do things that could be harmful to herself. As much as it pains me, at least I know she’s safe here. The nurses are grand. We’re very lucky. And now I’m just grateful for every moment I get with her while she still remembers who I am. She doesn’t remember the kids anymore.’
The Road to Hope Page 9