‘Apart from the fact this is hardly a rough area, it’s just a car. A box on four wheels.’
Er, no. It was a seriously expensive sports car, and you had to be on a waiting list to get one.
He gave her a sidelong look. ‘Or there’s another option.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’ll take you about thirty minutes to cook salmon and new potatoes, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘How far away is the nearest chip shop?’
‘About five minutes.’
‘Right. So that’s twenty minutes to drive up the coast and back to your chip shop, five minutes to queue, and five minutes to get back here. How about it?’
She looked longingly at the car. It was hugely tempting. ‘James, aren’t you worried that the fish and chips will make your car smell?’
‘W’re Enot eating in the car,’ he pointed out, ‘and I’ll have the windows open. So, no. Come and have some fun with me, Charlotte.’
This time, she didn’t think about it. Didn’t stop to check if there were any paparazzi around. She just gave in to the impulse. ‘Let me lock my front door, and you’re on.’
Driving in his car was just fabulous. It made her feel like a film star; no wonder he loved his car so much.
‘Next time we have a teenage boy in, you can tell him you’ve sat in my James Bond car,’ he said.
‘It would be better still if I told him I’d actually driven it,’ she retorted.
‘He wouldn’t believe you—James Bond wouldn’t let a woman drive his car.’
She laughed. ‘And now you’re being sexist.’
‘You want to drive?’ He pulled over, removed the keys and tossed them to her.
She caught them automatically. ‘James! I—No. Supposing I crash?’
‘You won’t crash.’
‘Or scrape it? Or dent it? Or—?’
‘Charlotte, it’s a only a car,’ he interrupted.
‘It’s gleaming. You must polish it every single day.’
‘Well, yes,’ he admitted.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘You thought you couldn’t dance,’ he pointed out. ‘Yet you danced with me tonight.’
And kissed him back. ‘That was different.’
He smiled. ‘Not so very different. It’s just a matter of confidence.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Actually, we’d better get going or we’ll be late for the chips.’
Just as he’d promised, they were back at her house within the half-hour.
‘Thank you,’ Charlotte said softly, when he finally got up to leave.
‘What for?’
‘Being patient with me. I didn’t expect that.’
‘It’s not my strong suit, I admit,’ James said. ‘But I’m happy to try.’
‘I’m happy to try, too,’ Charlotte said.
‘Thank you,’ James said. And when he kissed her goodbye in the hallway, Charlotte felt safe enough with him to return the kiss.
Because James was most definitely different.
CHAPTER NINE
THREE weeks after her lumpectomy, Kate had her first radiotherapy session. She’d already met the radiology team, who’d marked tiny dots on her skin to show the area where she’d need treatment, and they’d advised her not to use any perfumed shower gel, deodorant or talcum powder because it might make her skin sore: plain soap and aqueous cream would be better.
‘I know your appointment’s not until eleven,’ Rob said, ‘but if we leave at ten, that allows us plenty of time for traffic. And we can always go and have something in the café if w’re Ereally early.’
Kate hugged him. ‘I really appreciate this, Rob.’
‘I know. And I also know you’d do the same for me, so don’t start getting any silly ideas.’ He hugged her back. ‘You don’t have to worry about Jem, love. We’ll wait with you until you’re called in, and then we’ll go for a walk or the boys will play on their consoles. And then we’ll play it by ear—see how you feel. If you’re tired, we’ll go home, I’ll make you a sandwich and you can sit with your feet up while I take the boys swimming; if you’re feeling OK, maybe we can do something together.’
As a family.
The idea warmed her.
‘Have I told you lately that you’re wonderful?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he said with a grin, ‘but I’m quite happy for you to keep telling me.’
On Wednesday night, James didn’t turn up at their usual time for their dance lesson. Charlotte tried his mobile, but it was switched over to voicemail; she didn’t bother leaving a message, assuming that he was on his way and kept his phone switched to voicemail while he was driving.
When another hour had passed, she tried again. Still voicemail. ‘James, this is Charlotte. I’m assuming that you can’t make it this evening,’ she said. She hung up and made herself a coffee. When she still hadn’t heard from James half an hour later, she was about to give up waiting and run herself a bath, then her doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, James stood there, looking drawn. ‘You look terrible,’ she said.
‘I feel it,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been in Theatre all day.’
‘Come and sit down. What’s happened?’
He sank onto the sofa. ‘The special care unit called me. They delivered a baby last night with a narrowed aortic valve—Tom. He wasn’t up to surgery, so he was in ICU while they hoped to get him a bit stronger. He was cyanotic, and oxygen and prostaglandin therapy didn’t do much. So that left me as his best chance. Let’s just say it was a bit tricky.’ He sighed. ‘I did try to ring you, but your phone was engaged.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She sat down beside him and took his hand. ‘Let’s skip the lesson tonight. You look shattered—and I bet you haven’t eaten, have you?’
‘Well, no,’ he admitted. ‘I was too busy. And I’ve gone past hunger.’
‘And your blood sugar will be dropping like a stone. Stay there and I’ll fix you something,’ she said.
‘Really, you don’t have to,’ he protested.
‘It’s going to take me five minutes to make you an omelette. No big deal. Stay put.’ She left to pour him a glass of orange juice, then went back into the living room. ‘Have this for now. I’ll call you when it’s ready.’
But when she slid the omelette onto the plate, there was no answer. She walked through to the living room, and James had simply fallen asleep where he sat. And, to her surprise, Pandora was curled up on his lap.
He must be exhausted, she thought, deciding not to wake him. ‘Good girl. Stay there,’ she whispered to the cat, and tiptoed back out into the kitchen.
Half an hour later, James’s mobile phone rang, and he woke with a start. He was even more shocked to find Pandora curled up on his lap. Since when…? And he couldn’t even remember falling asleep.
He grabbed the phone from his pocket. ‘James Alexander.’
‘James, it’s Rita from SCBU. We need you back in Theatre, I’m afraid,’ the nurse told him. ‘Tom isn’t doing too well.’
‘On my way,’ James said. Gently, he stroked Pandora. ‘Sorry, Puss. I’m going to have to move you.’ He scooped her up and stood up just as Charlotte walked into the living room. ‘Sorry, got to go back to Theatre.’
‘Tom?’ she asked.
He nodded bleakly. ‘And you made me dinner and I wasted it. Sorry.’
‘James, it was only an omelette. Look, I’ll make you a sandwich to go while you wash your face to wake up a bit.’ She took Pandora from him. ‘Come on, you. Let the poor man go. Bathroom’s top of the stairs, right in front of you,’’ she said.
When he came down after splashing his face, she’d wrapped up a sandwich for him. ‘Take care. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said softly. And then she really shocked him by taking the lead and kissing him. The warmth and sweetness stayed with him all the way through a tough evening in Theatre, and all the way back to his office. And when he closed his eyes to drift into sleep, it
was Charlotte’s face he saw.
The following morning, Charlotte was sorting out her paperwork before clinic when there was a knock at her door.
She’d never seen James look like that before. His hair was unkempt, his face—usually clean-shaven—was covered with stubble, and his clothes were creased. ‘James?’ she asked.
‘Sorry. I feel rubbish.’
He looked it.
‘I know it’s completely inappropriate of me to ask, but I could really do with a hug.’
To her horror, she could actually see tears in his eyes. Something had happened. Something awful. Immediately, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms round him. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened with your family?’
‘No.’ He swallowed hard and rested his head against her shoulder. ‘Just, sometimes, I hate my job.’
‘What’s happened, James?’
He dragged in a breath. ‘You know I came back to Theatre last night—well, I stayed here last night, in case I was needed.’
That explained his dishevelled appearance.
‘And Tom died, Charlotte. I couldn’t save him. I let him down, I let his parents down, and I let the team down.’
‘Hey. You did your best—if you couldn’t do it, nobody else could.’
‘It doesn’t feel like it right now.’
‘You’re a good surgeon. And I should know, because I’ve seen you work.’
‘I don’t lose many patients.’ He held her closer. ‘But it hurts like hell when I do. I was meant to save people, Charlotte, not lose them.’
She stroked his hair back from his forehead. ‘Listen to me. You were in Theatre all day yesterday and most of the evening. And where did you sleep last night?’
‘The chair in my office,’ he admitted.
‘Which meant you got practically no sleep.’
‘I cat-napped.’ He shrugged. ‘ But that’s par for the course, a skill a surgeon has to learn early on.’ He shivered. ‘I hate my job, Charlotte. I really hate it when it doesn’t work and I have to make the call. I hate it when I have to say the words “time of death”. I hate having to tell the parents I couldn’t save their child and I see the light go out in their eyes—when I see the grief and desperation just seeping through them, and I should’ve been able to stop it happening.’ The last words came out overlaid with pain.
‘You’re being way too hard on yourself, James.’ Her heart ached for him, but at the same time she was glad he’d confided in her, had taken off the mask of the flash playboy doctor and let her see the man underneath. He was a good man, who was hurting—a man who needed her.
She had no idea how long she stayed there, just holding him, letting her strength prop him up. But one thing she was sure about: if the positions had been reversed, James would be holding her and he’d be the strong one, letting her lean on him.
He’d once told her that they’d make a fabulous team.
And she had a feeling that he was right.
The week before the ball, James asked Charlotte to come over to his place for the dance lesson. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with your place, but we need to try our routine in a larger area.’
‘And your place is huge, right?’
‘It’s rented, so it’s not strictly my place,’ he said, ‘but…um…yes. It’s pretty big.’
That barely described it, Charlotte thought when he ushered her inside. The living room took up the entire top floor of the three-storey house—an enormous expanse with a sea view, a balcony and a proper wooden floor. Not to mention a state-of-the-art audio-visual system and enormous, butter-soft leather sofas.
Funny how far they’d come in four weeks. Four weeks of working together, dancing together, sharing bits of each other’s lives. To the point where she’d even kiss him in her office, not worrying that someone might spot them and start gossiping. Four weeks ago, when she’d first danced with him, she’d stumbled over everything. And now she was gliding with him, at one with him, practically feeling his heart beat in time with hers.
He switched on his sound system and the first notes of the waltz from Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty floated into the air. As they began dancing, she realised that he was right. Even with the furniture pushed back, her living room had been limited in space. Now they spun together and it was like floating. She actually closed her eyes, trusting in the rhythm of the music and James’s lead. With one sense temporarily missing, the others grew more intense—she was aware of the hard muscle beneath her fingertips, the warmth of his hand in hers, his clean masculine scent.
At the very end, instinctively she tipped her face up towards his to welcome his kiss; her mouth tingled, her blood seemed to fizz in her veins, and she slid her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck to pull him closer.
When they finally broke the kiss, they were both shaking. ‘Charlotte. Stay with me tonight,’ he said softly.
For a moment, she almost said yes. James was the first man she’d wanted to make love with since Michael—and she really did want to touch him, explore him, find out what gave him pleasure and what blew his mind. And let him explore her just the same way.
Though she knew it wasn’t fair to take things further without telling him the truth about her past. Something that she wished now she’d done earlier, because she had no idea how he’d react. He’d be angry on her behalf, she knew that much, but when he’d had time to think about it, would it make him reject her?
‘I…It’s the wrong time of the month,’ she prevaricated.
It wasn’t true, but it was the best excuse she could think of right at that moment.
He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘Stay anyway. You can still sleep in my arms. Even if I don’t touch you the way I’m desperate to touch you.’
She really hadn’t expected that sweetness from him. And it made her want to cry. ‘James, I…’
‘It’s OK. I’m not going to rush you. I can wait until you’re ready.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead and gently disengaged himself from the dance hold.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘So have you decided on a dress yet?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she admitted. She’d been so busy learning to dance that she’d forgotten about the dress. And she wasn’t used to glitzy, glamorous clothes. She didn’t go to glitzy, glamorous places—just on team nights out, to the bowling alley and to the cinema and to restaurants where casual clothing was perfectly acceptable. ‘Sorry. I’ll go and find something at the weekend.’
‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘for being a bit pushy.’
‘Pushy?’ she asked, not understanding.
‘Stay where you are and close your eyes.’ As if he sensed that she was about to ask why, he added with a smile, ‘Humour me. It was OK last time, wasn’t it?’
When he’d fed her chocolate. ‘Uh-huh.’ Warily, she did as he asked.
‘Don’t open your eyes or you’ll spoil it,’ he warned.
She heard him walk out of the room; a few moments later, she heard him ask, ‘Are your eyes still closed?’
‘Yes.’
There was a rustling sound. ‘You can open your eyes now.’
She did so, and blinked in a mixture of surprise and delight as she saw the most incredible dress hanging on the door. ‘Wow.’ Then she bit her lip. ‘James, that’s a really lovely gesture, but this must have cost a fortune.’
He shrugged it off. ‘As I said, I’ve been a bit pushy, but I really wanted to buy you a proper ballroom dancing dress. Do you mind very much?’
‘Mind? James, it’s beautiful. Thank you.’ The dress was cornflower blue, the skirt was ankle length, silky and swirly, and the top was strappy. There was a floaty strip of silk running from the shoulder to a small cuff on her wrist; the back was low, but it wasn’t the glittery thing she would’ve expected him to choose. It was subtle, and beautiful, and incredibly feminine. ‘It’s like a fairy princess dress.’
‘Well, w’re Edancing to the Sleeping Beauty walt
z. I thought the dress went with the song.’
She smiled. ‘I’m fairly sure it was Cinderella who had a blue dress, not Sleeping Beauty, and from memory it was a much paler blue.’
He laughed. ‘This one’s the same colour as your eyes. That’s why I chose it.’
He’d noticed the colour of her eyes?
And then another thought hit her. ‘How did you know what size to buy?’
‘Guesswork,’ he said. ‘Bearing in mind what my mother did for a living, it’s something I picked up from her, not because I’m a leering Lothario who sizes up every female in my path. But it is a guess, and that’s why I’m giving it to you now, in case it needs alterations. If you want to try it on, my bedroom’s down the stairs, first door you see.’ His bedroom.
She felt the colour flood into her face.
‘Uh, that came out wrong,’ he said hastily. ‘We’ve already established that w’re Enot sharing a bedroom tonight. What I meant was, you can change in the bathroom if you want, or use my room if you want somewhere with a full-length mirror. And I’ll be on the balcony if you want to come and see me when you’re dressed.’
He really was trying, she thought. Really wasn’t taking it for granted that she’d be like all the women in his past. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly. On impulse, she walked over to him, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘For—well. Lots of things.’
‘Go and try the dress on.’ He flapped a hand at her. ‘Before I try to change your mind.’
The back of the dress was much lower than she was used to, but it also meant she could handle the zip herself. And it fitted perfectly. She took her hair out of the French pleat she usually wore it in and let it fall over her bare shoulders.
‘You look amazing,’ he said when she joined him on the balcony. ‘Turn round, so I can see it properly.’
‘Obviously I’ll get proper shoes,’ she said. ‘With heels the same height as the ones I’ve been using when we’ve practised.’
He nodded. ‘And spray the soles with hairspray. It’s another of my mother’s tips—it means you’re less likely to slip on the floor.’ Almost as if unable to help himself, he curled the ends of her hair round his fingers. ‘Your hair is beautiful like that,’ he said softly, ‘but it’s easier to dance with it up. Just leave a couple of curls at the front to soften it.’
Caroline Anderson, Anne Fraser, Kate Hardy, Margaret McDonagh Page 42