"I'll never get well while I'm worrying about Hans! Every woman who sees him wants him. And he's mine! Mine!"
Deborah's voice rose and Lesley stood up. "Please don't get upset. I'm sure Mr. Redwood wants you to be happy."
"Then why won't he talk about the future?"
Reluctant to continue this scene, Lesley made to leave but was stopped momentarily by the entry of Richard.
"Not interrupting a private chat, am I?" he asked.
"Not at all," she said quickly. "Were you looking for me?"
"Yes. I wanted to have a word with you about one of your patients. He moved further into the room. "Feeling better, Mrs. Redwood?"
"No."
"You'll improve when the snow disappears and you can see the green mountains," Richard said heartily.
"I've no intention of staying here in the summer," Deborah replied.
"Nor I, he echoed and grinned at Lesley.
Deborah looked from one to the other. "Are you thinking of leaving?"
Too late, Richard realised what he had said. "Certainly not. It was just a figure of speech." Tucking his hands into his pockets, he sauntered out.
"What's going on between you two?" Deborah asked.
"Not what you're thinking."
Deborah looked sceptical. "He obviously came in here looking for you and—" She stopped as the door opened and Phillip entered. "Don't tell me you've come to see our lady doctor, too!"
"Too?" he enquired blandly.
"Dr. White was here a moment ago, and he certainly didn't come to see me."
Not waiting to hear any more, Lesley made her escape.
But though she could forget Deborah's teasing about Richard, it was impossible to forget what she had said about Phillip. His refusal to discuss divorce was obviously his way of making sure his wife did not discover Hans Kasper didn't want to marry her. But eventually she would have to learn the truth; indeed she might force Phillip's hand by refusing to be put off by any more delaying tactics. And if she did this, she would also give Lesley the answer to the question that had hammered continually in her brain during the past weeks: had Phillip meant it when he said he no longer cared if a divorce left any scandal in its wake, so long as he was free to make his life again?
Yet even if he did mean it, why should she assume she had any part in his future? She was allowing her own feelings for him to dictate what his might' be. Yet it was impossible to think logically when she was seeing him continually, and she decided that a few days away might bring things into focus.
Having made up her mind, she chose a chance encounter with him on one of the wards to ask for a weekend off.
"By all means," he replied. "When do you want to go?"
"This weekend if possible. Professor Engel said Bobby can stay at the school."
"If you wait until the weekend after, Richard would be able to go with you."
"I want to be alone," she said stiffly. "You shouldn't listen to Mrs. Redwood's gossip."
"I'm sorry. Go on Friday, by all means." i esley arrived in Zurich late on Friday and, in a wild surge of extravagance, decided to stay at the Baur au I ac. It was the best hotel in the city, as evidenced by her large, imposing bedroom overlooking the lake.
She changed into a simple, black velvet dress, put on more makeup than usual and went down to the dining room. She was young, unattached and not bad to look at. Who knew? Perhaps romance waited around the corner.
Her mood of optimism was no match for the large, empty restaurant and she retreated hastily to the lounge where she stared for a moment at the magnificent tapes- l l ies that lined one side of the wall. Far better to go to a small cafe in the town than to eat in solitary state.
She went to the elevator and heard the purr of its descent. The dooi» slid back and a man stepped out as she stepped in. They both stopped and turned.
"Phillip!"
"Lesley!"
I le was the first to recover his composure. "Richard told me you'd gone to Litziruti. Why are you here?"
"I changed my mind. I felt too tired for walking or skiing. I didn't know you were coming here."
"It was unexpected. Professor Zecker returned from the States last night and wanted to see me."
"Then I won't detain you."
'.'I've already seen him. Are you going out?"
"Yes, the restaurant's too empty."
He smiled. "Most guests eat in the grill room. It's world famous."
"Now you've made me feel stupid."
"And you've made me feel clumsy!" He smiled again. "Would you have dinner with me? It seems silly for us to dine alone."
She saw he was wearing a coat. "Don't you like dining in the world-famous grill room?''
"Not when my favourite restaurant is so near at hand. Get your coat while I organise a taxi."
As they drove through the dark streets, she forced herself to concentrate on the passing scene—anything to stop her from thinking of Phillip's proximity. Finally they stopped in front of a plain oak door with the name Franziskaner embossed on it in gold letters.
Phillip escorted her down a narrow flight of stairs into a rectangular dining room, where they were shown to a table against the wall. They were in a basement, and false lights and greenery marked the place where windows would have been. The tables were large and spaciously arranged, so that though the room was full, the hum of conversation remained unobtrusive.
"They have some of the best food in Zurich," he said as she studied the menu. "I hope you're not a dieter?"
"I never diet." She stared at the large card. "I can't read German well enough to know what it says. Will you order for me? All of it sounds absolutely delicious."
He nodded and for several moments talked to the waiter in fluent German.
"I never realise.d you spoke German so well," she remarked when they were alone again. "At the clinic—"
"Forget the clinic," he said abruptly. "Forget who I am or what I am." His mouth quirked. "Do you make a habit of dining with strangers, Miss, er… ?"
"Only the ones I pick up in elevators." She entered into his mood. "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name, either."
"Phillip. And yours?"
"Lesley. And it's not Miss; it's doctor."
"What a coincidence!"
They smiled at one another and in that instant reestablished the intimacy they had shared at the Post Hotel. As before, he sloughed his official aura and everything was forgotten, even the fact that his wife was lying in bed not many miles away.
"Black suits you," he said. "You should wear it more often."
"Plus my stethoscope!"
"I get the point. I'll arrange for you to have a normal eighty-hour week!" He appraised her. "What have you done to yourself? You look different."
"More makeup and earrings."
"They're nice."
"Richard bought them for me when I qualified."
The instant the words were out she felt him withdraw, and there was an uncomfortable silence broken only by Ihc arrival of the waiter with the first course. It was trout in wine followed by breast of suckling pig and tomato cups filled with a white, creamy mixture, which Lesley liberally sampled.
"Ugh!" Tears rushed into her eyes and she spluttered wildly. Hastily she reached for some water and gulped it down. "I thought I was being burned. What on earth is it?"
"Horseradish sauce whipped into cream. It fools a lot of people."
"You mean you knew?"
His smile was sharp. "You deserved it. Next time I say forget about the past, don't start talking about your boyfriend!"
"I don't have a boyfriend." Deliberately she changed the subject. "The pianist plays well. It's unusual to find music in a Swiss restaurant."
"One can dance here, too. If you've any favourites I'll ask him to oblige."
"Any Cole Porter tune."
He nodded but waited till their entree was eaten before leading her to the alcove where the pianist was playing. A note passed hands and then Phillip w
as by her side again.
In the dim light as his arms closed around her, she could discern a tenderness in his expression, and she was angry with herself for the way her body trembled. Music flowed around them and they began to dance, lost in the nearness of each other.
Night and day you are the one,
Only you beneath the moon and under the sun
She closed her eyes. How fitting the words were and how aptly they expressed her hopeless longing.
"We'd better finish our dinner," he said thickly. "We can dance again later."
Back at the table Lesley looked suspiciously at the blackberries steeped in wine and topped with cream.
"What's worrying you?" he asked.
"I'm wondering if it really is whipped cream!"
He helped himself liberally. "Does this satisfy you?"
She laughed and followed suit. "You chose a wonder- ful meal."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Would you like anything more?"
"I daren't. Think of my figure."
"I wish I could forget it!" There was a tense pause. "You're blushing," he added.
"Old-fashioned of me. I'm sorry."
"For God's sake don't apologise for being adorable." The pause this time was longer. "Forgive me, Lesley. It hasn't been a great success, has it?"
"What hasn't?"
"Our effort to forget our past. You should have gone out without me. You'd have had a better time."
She swallowed. "Would I?"
"Damn it, no!" He caught her hand. "Let's dance again."
For the rest of the evening they managed to recapture Iheir earlier mood, though it was marred for Lesley by the knowledge that it was merely a suspended moment in time.
It was well after midnight when they left the restaurant, choosing to walk for a short while before hailing a taxi. It was bitterly cold and she shivered as a few icy snowflakes caressed her face.
"You aren't dressed for this climate," Phillip said, hailing a passing cab.
Gratefully she climbed in, still shivering, and he unwound the scarf he was wearing and placed it around her neck.
The soft wool was still warm from his body, and as she pressed her chin into it, she could not suppress a tremor, though this one was not caused by the cold. Her emotion communicated itself to him for he gave a sharp intake of breath and pulled her into his arms.
"It's no good, Lesley. I want you too much to go on fighting."
"Do you?"
"Don't you know?"
"I wasn't sure. For days you've practically ignored me.
"How else can I behave when we're surrounded by a hundred pairs of eyes! Do you think I don't want to be with you all the time? That I don't ache with the need to hold you… to touch you?"
Before she could reply his mouth came down hard on hers. It was their first real physical contact, a dream translated into reality, and she gave herself up to its delight without any thought of the consequences. His lips were firm yet soft, demanding her surrender without having to resort to brutality.
It seemed barely a moment before the taxi drew into the courtyard of the hotel and Phillip was helping her out.
"I can't let you go yet," he said as they reached the elevator. "The bar's closed but I've some whisky in my room." His look was quizzical. "Unless you're worried about the proprieties?"
She shook her head and, still without speaking, followed him to his room.
The moment they were alone she knew an unexpected sense of embarrassment, and quickly she walked over to the window.
"You have a view over the lake, too. It's wonderful, isn't it? It must be even prettier in the summer when there are little boats on it, gliding up and down—"
"You're talking too much, Lesley!" He came over with the glasses and handed her one. "I thought you said I lie proprieties don't bother you?"
"They don't, /bother me!"
With a groan he set the drinks down and drew her into his arms. "You sound so much like a little girl I can't believe you're a highly intelligent doctor."
"I'm just a vulnerable woman where you're concerned."
"Then you must trust me not to hurt you."
Once again their lips met and his smooth sensitive hands caressed her, stroking the tawny hair and gently roaming over the firm contours of her body, arousing her to a desire she had never before experienced. Then with a moan he pushed her away and handed her the tumbler of whisky.
"It'll be safer if we drink. We both know the facts of life, but I'm not prepared to guarantee I can control them!"
The humour of his words eased the tension, and she raised her glass.
"What toast shall it be, Phillip?"
"The obvious one. To our future."
"I can't see any future for us," she said huskily.
"Then you're extremely myopic. I see a loving and devoted couple. The wife is a doctor and the husband a surgeon: a most convenient setup, for it means they have ideas to exchange with each other… when they're not making love, of course! And the loving will produce two adorable children: a beautiful little girl, taffy brown hair and a—"
"Phillip, don't!" The tears were streaming from her eyes and she set down her glass again and buried her head on his firm shoulder, trembling as she did so.
"What is it?" he asked urgently. "Have I said something wrong?"
"Not wrong," she whispered. "Just unexpected."
For an instant he seemed at a loss to understand what she meant, then she felt him stiffen.
"What sort of relationship did you expect me to offer?" She did not answer and her silence goaded him to anger.
"I'm not looking for a mistress or someone to go to bed with when I have a free weekend! I love you and want to marry you."
"I… I… wasn't sure," she stammered. "Until tonight you've never given me a clue."
"How could I when I still haven't said anything to Deborah? I wouldn't have told you now if we hadn't met like this. But being with you all evening__________________________________ "
"I'm glad you've told me. At least I have something to look forward to."
"Forward," he echoed. "But how far forward? I daren't talk to her yet. If she told Kasper she was going to be free, he'd run a mile!"
"He might be willing to pretend… at least till she's well again."
"I can't take the risk!"
With a sigh, Lesley agreed, then with deliberation moved away from Phillip.
"You aren't thinking of leaving the clinic, are you?" he asked. "It won't be easy for you to see Deborah every day."
She debated his remark. "I won't mind as long as I know you're not in love with her." She could not forbear adding, "You once were, though. Very much."
"Yes. It was like a madness that blinded me to reason.
If you call that love…" He took a step toward her, checked himself and remained where he was. "I don't feel the same toward you."
"Don't you?"
She hoped she kept the pain from her voice. How could she expect Phillip to love her the blindly passionate way he had loved Deborah? Deborah—with her finely chiselled features and fragile body, her mocking smile and sharp tongue. Compared with that personification of feline grace, Lesley felt herself to be pedestrian in the extreme.
"No, I don't," Phillip replied. "What I feel for you is so much deeper, so much more real and lasting. It isn't just passion, Lesley—though heaven knows I can't think straight when I'm near you—it's a need to talk to you and feel close to you. To share my thoughts and hopes with you. Sometimes I've watched you in the wards, talking to the patients, and there's such a warmth and tenderness about you that I ache to come close and share your calm. Without you, I have nothing."
"Darling," Tear choked, she ran over and twined her arms around his neck.
Once again they clung together, her body yielding to his like a parched flower to water. Again and again they kissed, his lips exploring the sweetness of her mouth and the smoothness of her flesh. His hands released the zip of her dress and the gar
ment slipped to her waist. She was slim as a sylph, encased in satin that shimmered on the curves of her breasts.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "There's a beauty about you that——— "
He had difficulty continuing and she stretched out her arms and drew his head down to rest on her shoulder. At once his mouth found her breasts, savouring their roundness as they grew taut with the desire he aroused in her—a desire so urgent that she forgot everything except her need to make him a part of her.
"No, Lesley." The words were barely audible, but the way he pushed her back indicated what he meant. "We must still work together at the clinic. Deborah's there and you'd hate yourself if—"
Her hand against his lips stopped him. "I know, darling. And you're right. But I've waited so long to fall in love. I never have until now. Do you believe me?"
"I can see it in your eyes." His own were dark with his need of her. "But pray God we won't have to wait much longer. As soon as Deborah's well enough, I'll talk to her."
Shakily Lesley readjusted her dress, doing up the zip hurriedly, as if she knew the danger of letting Phillip touch her again. "Do I look respectable?" she asked, smoothing her hair.
"As respectable as it's possible for any woman to look when she's nearly been—" He stopped. "You'd better go before I forget my good intentions!"
She picked up her bag and coat and opened the door. "Don't see me to my room. It's only on the next floor."
She hurried down the corridor, oblivious of her surroundings until a man walked out of a doorway directly into her path.
"Entschuldigen sie mir, "he apologised.
She acknowledged it and headed for the stairs, conscious of his eyes on her.
As she entered her bedroom the telephone was ringing and she picked it up.
"I just called to say good night again," Phillip said.
"I was debating whether to call you when I got back," she admitted. "But I don't think I would have."
"Why not?"
"Because I still can't believe it's really happened."
"I can't do any more to convince you—at least, not yet."
"Oh Phillip." She sank onto the bed. "I love you so much."
"And I love you. When I think you're so near—" Abruptly his voice changed. "What time shall I see you tomorrow? Is ten-thirty too early?"
Rachel Lindsay - Love and Dr Forrest Page 10