Anna pouted for a bit, but got in the car happily and whispered good things to Lottie through the carrier door as he drove. ‘You’ll be okay, Lottie. The vet will take good care of you.’
With his daughter at breakfast club, Nathan drove to work, parked, and then walked across the road to the veterinary surgery with Lottie in her carrier once more. He was kind of proud of his daughter’s little rabbit. Getting through a severe trauma and surviving. It was like finding a kindred spirit, and after getting up all night to check on her he felt he was bonding with her. And though last night he’d almost expected to have to tell Sydney to put Lottie to sleep, the fact that she’d lived... Well, he was kind of rooting for her now.
He was looking forward to seeing Sydney’s reaction. She was an intriguing woman, and he was keen for her to see that the rabbit was still alive and find out her plan of action. But picturing the look of surprise on her face, or even trying to imagine what her smile might be like, was doing surprising and disturbing things to his insides. Things he didn’t want to examine too closely for fear of what they might mean.
The bell above the door rang as he walked through, clutching the carrier, and he headed over to the reception desk, where a veterinary nurse sat.
‘Lottie Jones to see Sydney, please.’
‘Ah, yes. Please take a seat—you’ll be called through in a moment.’
He sat and waited, his nerves strangely on edge. For the rabbit? For himself? For seeing Sydney again? Last night when he’d lain awake he’d thought about her a great deal. She was very beautiful, and totally out of his league, but...she intrigued him. For all that she’d been through—the loss of her daughter—she seemed surprisingly together. A little terse, maybe, but professional and she clearly cared for her animal charges.
What made her tick? What kept her going? Her bravery in the face of immense tragedy was a very positive force, and he liked to surround himself with positive people. He needed that; he tried to stay positive himself. Perhaps just by knowing her a little bit better he might learn her secret? If she ever forgave him for what he’d said. She was a strong woman. Determined. He could see that. The complete antithesis of Gwyneth.
He shook his head as he thought of his thoughtless advice to her. Warm milk?
So busy was he, feeling embarrassed for what he’d said, that he wasn’t ready when she opened her surgery door and called his name. ‘Dr Jones?’
He looked up, startled. Today, her long brown hair was taken up into a messy ponytail. There were little wavy bits hanging free around her face, and even without make-up she looked amazing. He quickly cursed himself for noticing.
He got up, loudly cleared his throat and took the carrier through to her consulting room, determined to be distant and professional.
‘She’s still with us. Lottie survived the night.’
He placed the carrier onto her examination table and stood quite far back, as if the physical distance would somehow stop him stealing glances at her.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Okay. Let’s have a look at her.’
He watched as Sydney’s very fine hands opened the carrier and she gave Lottie a thorough assessment, listening to her chest and abdomen with her stethoscope, taking the rabbit’s temperature, checking the bites and scratches and finally examining the wounded eye.
He tried not to take notice of the small beauty mark on Sydney’s bared neck, her delicate cheekbones, or the way she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated. She had a very fine mouth. With full, soft-looking lips.
Dragging his eyes away from her mouth, he stared hard at Lottie. Focus on the rabbit!
‘It’s impossible for me to see if the eyeball itself has ruptured. The damage is too extensive. But until the swelling goes down I don’t think we should assume that it has. I’m going to prescribe antibiotic drops for her eye, more painkillers, and a drug to keep her digestive system working which is an oral medicine. Rabbits don’t like receiving oral meds, so if you can put the medicine in a food that you know she will eat you can get it into her that way.’
He nodded, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Lottie’s thick black fur so that he didn’t accidentally start staring into Sydney’s soft grey eyes. ‘Okay. How often does she need the meds?’
‘The eye drops three times a day, the oral meds four times a day. Will you be able to do that?’
He thought about his work schedule. It would be tough. But manageable. Perhaps if he kept Lottie in her carrier at work? In an unused room?
‘I’ll find a way.’
‘I’ll need to see her in about four days’ time. The swelling should have gone down by then, we’ll know if the antibiotics have worked, and I’ll be able to see if the eye needs to be removed.’
He risked a glance at her wide almond-shaped eyes. ‘She’d cope with that?’
‘Not all rabbits do well with surgery, and if we do have to remove the eye then she could be susceptible to further infection. Keep it clean. Bathe it with cooled boiled water when you can—three or four times a day.’
‘Like a proper patient.’ He smiled and closed the door on the carrier once again. ‘Thank you, Sydney, for seeing us last night. I appreciate that you were probably closed and your staff were ready to go home.’
She glanced away, her cheeks glowing slightly, before she began typing notes into her computer. ‘It was no problem.’
He watched her where she stood by the computer. It was better with her further away and not looking at him. He could think more clearly. And he wanted to make things right between them. He hated it that she’d left his consulting room feeling stressed and angry. Hated it that he’d insulted her daughter’s memory with a crass piece of advice.
‘I’d like to thank you properly, if I may? We got off to a bad start the other day and... Well, we both live in this village. It’d be nice to know I’ve not upset the first person I got to properly meet. Would you join me for a coffee some time? I’d really appreciate the chance to apologise.’
What on earth are you doing?
The invitation had just come out. He cursed himself silently, knowing she would refuse him, but, hell, he kind of wanted her to say yes. He couldn’t just see her about rabbits and sleeping tablets. Part of him wanted to know more about her. About that strong side of her that kept her going in the cruel world that had taken her daughter. That inner strength of hers...
But he also got the feeling that if they were given the chance the two of them might become friends. It had been a long time since he’d sat down and just chatted with a woman who wasn’t a patient, or some cashier in a shop, someone with whom he could pass the time of day.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I—’ She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and continued typing, her fingers tripping over one another on the keyboard, so that he could see she had to tap ‘delete’ a few times and go back, cursing silently.
He focused on her stumbling fingers. Tried not to imagine himself reaching for her hands and stilling them. ‘Just coffee. I don’t have an evil plan to try and seduce you, or anything.’
Shut up, you idiot. You’re making it worse!
Now she looked at him, her hands frozen over the keys. Her cheeks red. Her pause was an agonising silence before her fingers leapt into life once more, finishing her notes before she turned to him and spoke.
‘That’s kind of you, but—’
‘Just a chat. Anna and I don’t really know anyone here, and—well, I’d really like to know you.’ He smiled. ‘As a friend.’
It could never be anything else. Despite the fact that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Despite the fact that he could see her pulse hammering away in her throat. That her skin looked so creamy and soft. That he wanted to lift that stray strand of hair from her face and...
‘I—’
‘No pressure.
Not a date. Just...coffee.’
He realised he was rambling, but he was confused. She confused him. Made him feel like he was tripping over his own words even though he wasn’t. Made him surprised at what came out of his own mouth.
He’d not reached out to a woman like this since Gwyneth had left. He’d tried to become accustomed to the fact that he would spend the rest of his life alone. That he would not parade a stream of women past Anna. That he would not endanger his heart once again because on the one occasion he had given it to a woman she had ripped it apart.
The only female who would have his undying love was his daughter.
Which was as it should be.
Anna didn’t need the huge change that a woman in their lives would bring. He was lucky that Gwyneth had left before Anna knew who she was or formed a bond.
But he missed being able just to sit with a woman and chat about everyday things. He missed asking about another person’s day. He missed having adult company that didn’t involve talks about unusual rashes, or a cough that wouldn’t go away, or could you just take a look at my boil? And he imagined that Sydney would be interesting. Would have intelligent things to say and be the complete opposite of his ex-fiancée.
That was all he wanted.
All he told himself he wanted.
He waited for her to answer. Knowing she would turn him down, knowing it would hurt for some reason, but knowing that he’d had to ask because... Well, because he’d said something stupid to her the other day and he needed to apologise in the only way he knew how.
He waited.
* * *
Just a coffee?
Was there really such a thing as ‘just a coffee’ when a guy asked you out?
Because that was what he was doing. Asking her out. Like on a date. Right? And though he said there was no pressure, there was always pressure. Wasn’t there?
Besides, why would she want to meet him for a drink? For a chat? This was the man who had got her so riled up yesterday, what with his probing questions and his damned twinkling eyes.
Did he not know how attractive he was? Because he seemed oblivious to it. Either that or he was a great actor. With great hair, and an irresistible charm about him, and the way he was looking at her right now... It was doing unbelievable things to her insides. Churning her up, making her stomach seem all giddy, causing her heart to thump and her mouth to go dry. She hadn’t felt this way since her schoolgirl crush had asked her to the local disco. And her hands were trembling. Trembling!
Why had he asked her out? Why did he want to go for coffee? She had nothing to talk to him about. She didn’t know this guy. Except that he was a hot doctor with effortlessly cool hair and eyes that melted her insides every time he smiled at her. Oh, and that he had a daughter. A beautiful little girl who seemed very lovely indeed, but who made her feel uncomfortable because she reminded her too much of Olivia.
If he wanted to apologise to her then why didn’t he just do it? It wouldn’t take a moment. No need for them to go to a coffee shop. He could say it here. Now. Then she could thank him, and then he could go, and it would all be over.
Why would she get any kind of involved with this man? He was dangerous in so many ways. Intelligent, good-looking, attractive. Not to mention his adorable daughter... She pushed the thought away. No.
She wanted to say, We have nothing to talk about. She wanted to say, But there’s no point. She wanted to yell, You’re so perfect you look airbrushed. And I can’t have coffee with you because you make me feel things that I don’t want to feel and think of things I sure as hell don’t want to think about!
But she said none of those things. Instead she found herself mumbling, ‘That’d be great.’ Her voice almost gave out on that last word. Squeaking out of her closed throat so tightly she wondered if only dogs would have been able to hear it.
Oh, no, did I just agree to meet him?
The goofy smile he gave her in return made her temperature rise by a significant amount of degrees, and when he said goodbye and left the room she had to stand for a minute and fan her face with a piece of paper. She berated herself inwardly for having accepted. She would have to turn him down. Maybe call the surgery and leave a message for him.
This was a mistake.
A big mistake.
* * *
Nathan waited for his computer system to load up, and whilst he did he sat in his chair, staring into space and wondering just what the hell he had done.
Sydney Harper had said yes to his coffee invitation.
Yes!
It was unbelievable. There must have been some spike, some surge in the impulse centre of his brain that had caused his mind to short circuit or something. His leg muscles would sometimes spasm and kick out suddenly—the same must have happened with his head. And his mouth.
He had no doubt that they would get on okay. She would show up—a little late, maybe—pretend that she couldn’t stay for long, have some excuse to leave sooner than she’d expected. Maybe even get a friend to call her away on an invented emergency. But...they’d get on okay. He’d apologise right away for what he’d said. Be polite as could be.
Surely it was a good thing to try and make friends when you moved to a new area? That was all he was doing.
And how many guys have you invited for coffee?
The only people he really knew in Silverdale were Dr Preston, some of the staff at the medical centre and his daughter’s teacher at school, and they were more colleagues than actual friends. He’d left all his old friends behind when he’d moved from the city to this remote village. They kept in touch online. With the odd phone call and promises to meet up.
Sydney could be a new friend. A female friend. That was possible. How could it not be in today’s modern age? And once he got past her prickly demeanour, made her realise he was sorry and showed her that he was no threat to her romantically, then they could both relax and they would get on like a house on fire.
He had no doubt of that.
So why, when he thought of spending time with Sydney, did he picture them kissing? Think of himself reaching for her hand across the table and lifting it to his lips while he stared deeply into her eyes. Inhaling the scent of her perfume upon her wrist...
And why did that vision remind him of Gwyneth’s twisted face and her harsh words?
‘I can’t be with you! Why would anyone want to be with you? You’re broken. Faulty. The only thing you can offer is a lifetime of pain and despair and I didn’t sign up for that!’
Determined not to be haunted by his ex-fiancée’s words, he angrily punched the keys on his keyboard, brought up his files and called in his first patient of the day.
Sam Carter was a thirty-two-year-old man who had just received a diagnosis of Huntington’s Disease. His own father had died from it quite young, in his fifties, and the diagnosis had been a terrible shock to the whole family after Sam had decided to have genetic testing. Now he sat in front of Nathan, looking pale and washed out.
‘What can I do for you, Sam?’
His patient let out a heavy sigh. ‘I dunno. I just...need to talk to someone, I guess. Things are bad. At home. Suddenly everything in my life is about my diagnosis, and Jenny, my wife... Well...we’d been thinking about starting a family and now we don’t know what to do and...’
Nathan could see Sam’s eyes reddening as he fought back tears. Could hear the tremor in his patient’s voice. He understood. Receiving a diagnosis for something such as Huntington’s was very stressful. It changed everything. The present. The future. His own diagnosis of multiple sclerosis had changed his life. And Anna’s. It had been the final axe to fall on his farce of a relationship.
‘What did your consultant say?’
Sam sniffed. ‘I can’t remember. Once he said the words—that I had Huntington’s—I didn
’t really hear the rest. I was in shock... He gave us leaflets to take home and read. Gave us some websites and telephone numbers of people who could help, but...’ He looked up at Nathan and met his eyes. ‘We wanted to start a family! We wanted babies! And now... Now we don’t know if we should. Huntington’s is a terrible disease, and I’m not sure I want to pass that on to my children.’
Nathan nodded. It was a difficult thing to advise upon as a general practitioner. He didn’t have a Huntington’s specialty. He didn’t want to give Sam the wrong advice.
‘I hear what you’re saying, Sam. It’s a difficult situation and one that you and your wife must come to an agreement about together. I’m sure your consultant could discuss giving you two genetic counselling. A counsellor would be able to advise you better about the possibility of passing Huntington’s to your children and what your options might be in terms of family planning. Have you got another appointment scheduled with your consultant soon?’
‘In a month.’
‘Good. Maybe use the time in between then and now to think of what questions you want to ask him. Just because you have Huntington’s, and your father did too, it does not mean that any children you and Jenny have, will develop it. It’s a fifty per cent chance.’
‘They could be carriers, though.’
‘That’s a possibility, yes. Your consultant will be much better placed to talk this over with you, but if I’m right CVS—chorionic villus sampling—can be used to gain some foetal genetic material and test for the disease. And I believe there’s also a blood test that can be performed on Jenny to check the cell-free foetal DNA, and that would carry no risk of miscarriage. How are you coping on a day-to-day level?’
‘Fine, I guess. I have a chorea in my hand sometimes.’ A chorea was a hand spasm. ‘But that’s all, so far.’
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