The unit had its own coffee-shop area for patients. Larger, well-ventilated and more voluminous than anywhere in the main hospital, and off limits to anyone not in the transplant suite, the coffee shop was somewhere post-op patients could go without being exposed to any number of coughs, colds or other bugs.
Settling into a comfy chair without argument, she let him get the drinks and bring them over. Then he selected a sturdy-looking round tub chair opposite her and folded one ankle over his opposite knee before taking a casual sip of the hot drink.
She dragged her eyes up from his thighs and eyed his coffee enviously before casting a reproachful gaze at the glass of cool, filtered water he had handed her.
‘Drink it,’ he commanded, not unkindly. ‘Your fluid input will be noted on your chart later.’
‘Thanks for that.’
But at least it raised a weak smile. Max relaxed. They would get there. Together they would find a harmonious balance and, by the time Evie was cleared for discharge, they would know what they were going to do for their daughter’s future.
* * *
‘I can’t believe she crashed like that.’ Evie sighed as he headed back down the stairs, having put Imogen into her cot for the first night home since the transplant.
‘I can.’ Max chuckled from the hallway. ‘The excitement at seeing you home again wiped her out. Snatching a couple of hours with you morning and evening hasn’t been the same as finally having her mummy home.’
Evie swelled with pride, and Max marvelled at how far the two of them had come since that first day post-op in the hospital. It was hard to believe that was a week ago already. He had visited religiously, bringing Imogen to the window so that Evie could see her daughter and talk to her through the opening. And then Imogen had been able to come in to visit her, and he’d done everything he could to ensure he didn’t take his daughter anywhere she could pick up any bugs to pass on to Evie.
Evie. She looked beautiful, and vivacious, and exhausted. He should pack her off to bed.
Alone.
Whilst he did something to distract himself from the fact that as their friendship had burgeoned over the last week, so too had his reviving feelings for Evie. Which was going to be the last thing she wanted to hear from him.
Hence his need for a distraction. Like watching some mindless film on TV.
Although, given Evie’s reaction to him in the hospital corridor when they’d first bumped into each other a couple of weeks ago, it was patent that there were still some residual feelings of their former attraction to one other. But was it purely sexual chemistry, or was there something more?
And as much as he wanted Evie, could happily take her to bed right now, he knew he couldn’t. It would never be the fun, no-strings fling of last year. They had a daughter together and they still needed to work out the best solution for her future, without complicating things unnecessarily.
And yet, sex was all he could guarantee. He was still the same man he’d been beforehand, still committed to his career, unable to risk splitting his focus. He couldn’t give either Evie or Imogen the family life they would get closer to their own family.
So he wanted her, he could admit that. He wanted her in the most primal way. But the difference was that he was evolved, and this was one base need he was going to have to overrule.
‘Anyway...’ he pushed aside all his concerns, as he had been doing for the last ten days ‘...a good, peaceful night’s sleep—for both of you—and you’ll be ready for more time together tomorrow.’
‘I am pretty beat,’ Evie conceded reluctantly.
‘So get some sleep.’
‘I can’t.’ She shook her head. ‘I mean, I know I won’t be able to drop off. My mind is still racing and I’ll just lie there staring at the clock if I go now.’
Yeah, he could relate to that.
‘I thought I might watch a film or something. You want to join me?’ she offered.
‘A film?’ he echoed sharply.
So much for his idea of distracting himself. They’d watched a few films together during their brief fling. After all, they’d needed some rest and refuelling—as incredible as the sex had been, even they hadn’t managed it twenty-four hours a day. That said, their film watching had inevitably ended only one way.
‘Why not?’ She shrugged nonchalantly, her brain apparently not in the same gutter as his. ‘I could just do with a bit of relaxing with some mindless entertainment.’
He resisted the urge to make a wry quip.
‘Okay, let’s watch a film together.’
‘You choose one. I just want to change...’
‘Into something more comfortable?’ he teased, the cliché slipping out before he could swallow it down. ‘That is, more comfortable over the incision site?’
He cringed internally. He’d had no intention of revealing to Evie just how fragile his control over himself was right now. Thankfully, she seemed too preoccupied with her own thoughts to notice.
‘Right,’ she muttered. ‘My wound.’
‘Okay. Meet you in there when you’re ready.’ He retreated into the kitchen for something to eat.
He wasn’t even that hungry but he felt the need to occupy his hands if nothing else. His mind trying to put the brakes on the X-rated thoughts going on in the background, Max yanked the cupboards open with unnecessary vigour.
A bag of microwavable popcorn. That would do.
By the time he returned to the lounge Evie was gliding in, dressed in a light grey jersey pyjama-style tracksuit. He tried not to look her up and down, but it was impossible. The clothes emphasised long, slender legs, which had once wrapped so tightly around his hips, a slim waist he had held with his palms and, as the light material clung to the contours of breasts he could picture whenever he closed his eyes, his fingers itched to pull down the zip to reveal more than just that delicious glimpse of cleavage on offer right now.
So much for his desire for self-control.
He tried not to remember the sweet hollow spot at the base of her neck, which was on clear view now as Evie’s long hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail. She unselfconsciously reached for a handful of popcorn, oblivious to the less than pure thoughts running through his head right now.
He seriously needed to pull himself together.
‘All set.’ He gave a long-forgotten just friends smile and gestured to the home control pad in his hands as if that clarified things. Selecting the movie, he commanded the home system to dim the lights just as Evie held out the bowl.
‘Popcorn?’
As she moved a familiar gentle perfume, essentially Evie scent, reached his nostrils. In an instant, his jeans grew taut over his groin. Odd, how the olfactory sense was so powerful it could evoke the most vivid of images. Not least right now when he had a flashback to Evie, wild and abandoned in his bed as he grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin just below her ear. And the added low lighting certainly wasn’t helping matters.
Grateful for the proffered snack food, he grasped the bowl and rammed it almost painfully down into his lap.
Since when had he turned into a horny, fifteen-year-old adolescent? He had a feeling he wasn’t going to remember much of this film, after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVIE WOKE UP and lay for a moment in the darkness, trying to get her bearings.
She was back in Max’s home. And after last night, living here with Max felt even more loaded with frustrated longing than before she’d gone in to hospital.
The whole week, ever since that moment when she’d been scared before the transplant and Max had reassured her, she’d felt the old feelings resurfacing with a vengeance. And feeling her whole body change, almost overnight, when Annie’s kidney had begun to clear out her body naturally, Evie had realised there was no more dialysis, no mor
e feeling sluggish, no more telling herself how unattractive she was, no more missing out on the fun things because she was lacking in basic energy.
Her whole life was going to improve, something she hadn’t dared hope before. Her relationship with Imogen was going to be so much better now she had more strength and energy. And her relationship with Max was blossoming as she felt her former confidence returning.
Yet last night...well, what had happened last night?
She didn’t remember a single second of the film; she’d been too busy being hyper-aware of every move Max had made. She’d been sure she hadn’t misread the signals; that they both felt the attraction, and she’d been equally sure that, given half a chance, they could revisit something of their fling last year.
By contrast, Max had been absorbed in the film, and oblivious of her more X-rated thoughts. Hardly the greatest ego-boost she could have hoped for. She didn’t know how she’d got it all so wrong, but the humiliation still stung her cheeks whenever she thought about it.
So right now she really needed a release mechanism. A brisk walk on the treadmill in Max’s gym would not only meet the daily exercise goals of her post-op recovery, but it would help to expend some of her pent-up energy.
Maybe.
At least the gym being in the basement meant that she wouldn’t wake either Max or Imogen. Although with its high-level windows allowing plenty of natural light, it had never felt like a claustrophobic space to her, plus it was well-ventilated enough to more than satisfy her transplant requirements.
Easing herself carefully out of bed, Evie dressed quickly, only struggling to put her socks and trainers on, and then crept quietly out of the master suite and down to the basement.
The last person she expected to see was Max.
A hot and sweaty Max.
She hovered in the doorway and wondered if he’d seen her or if she could discreetly back away.
‘Are you coming in, then?’ he asked.
Clearly not the latter, then.
Evie scanned the room. A towel was hung over the treadmill and weights were scattered around his bench; he’d clearly been here a while. He looked pumped, slick, and impressively fit.
Of course he did.
‘Um, I was after the treadmill, but you’re obviously busy. I can come back later.’
‘No need.’ Max sprang up with enviable energy and ducked across the room to retrieve his towel. ‘I finished on there before. I just have a few reps here and I’ll be out of your hair if you prefer.’
‘No, no, that’s fine.’
It wasn’t really. She didn’t need Max seeing her pathetic attempt to walk a couple of miles whilst he knocked out reps like some elite athlete.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she offered, willing her feet to move. After some objection, they mercifully obeyed.
‘Me neither. But our daughter is gently snoring her little head off.’
He jerked his head and a baby monitor blinked at her from the small side table. So it wasn’t Imogen keeping him awake, then.
‘Has she been asleep all this time?’
‘No chance. I think the excitement of seeing you home last night got to her.’
Evie smiled warmly. Their reunion, as brief as it had been and given Imogen understood so little, had been the most uplifting experience she could have imagined.
‘Just as we suspected, her tummy woke her in the night and she had a good feed and a little play. So she’ll probably sleep longer than usual this morning.’
‘Oh, right.’
She wanted her daughter to rest, but she was longing to cuddle the little girl again.
And as for Max—did it make things better or worse that it was just overtiredness keeping him awake? For one brief moment she had allowed herself to think it might be the same sexual frustration that she’d been feeling, that maybe last night hadn’t been as easy for him as she’d believed. But she’d only been fooling herself.
Stepping onto the treadmill, Evie started off her mid-speed walk and tried to concentrate on the low-level music.
Don’t look.
At least she was getting fitter and stronger every day.
Think of anything else but the fact that he doesn’t even have a shirt on.
And soon she would be back to normal.
And what else?
Then she could take Imogen back to Annie’s.
Nope, it was an exercise in futility.
Her eyes snapped inexorably back to Max. She hungrily drank in the sight of his body rippling and pumping oh-so-deliciously as his muscles worked in exquisite harmony. She had no idea she’d been effectively ogling for a good twenty minutes until he wound up his reps and she glanced at the screen on the treadmill.
‘So, how are you going?’ he asked, sauntering casually over once he’d cleared his weights away.
She was only grateful she hadn’t chosen to wear a heart monitor. It would be bleeping like crazy right about now, and it had nothing to do with how hard she was pushing herself in an attempt to drown out her lamenting libido.
‘Not too bad.’ She breathed out hard.
Max frowned.
‘Are you sure that isn’t too fast?’
‘Brisk,’ she countered. ‘That’s the key. Once I’ve got over the first few weeks, I can probably start on a bike, or the cross trainer.’
‘Fine, I’ll show you how to use that one over there when you’re ready. It’s not the most user-friendly model I could have chosen.’ Max slotted his water bottle into the holder on her machine. ‘Here, drink this.’
Evie didn’t answer. Did he really expect her to still be here in a few weeks’ time? Wouldn’t he be expecting her to leave soon?
‘Okay, I’m going to leave you to it. Imogen will be waking soon and I wouldn’t mind a shower before the nappy changes and feeding begin.’ He chuckled.
He was trying, but they were both aware how stilted the conversation was.
‘Good idea.’
‘Everything okay?’
How was it he could read her so easily?
‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all,’ she lied, hating the fact that she was using the transplant as an excuse but not wanting him to guess at the real reason for her distraction.
Evie waited, only releasing her breath as he dipped his head in a curt nod, then left the room. She threw herself into her walking for the next twenty minutes, but once the timer ended she still wasn’t ready to return upstairs. Everywhere she went in this house had X-rated memories haunting every inch of her brain. Selecting a harder, longer, uphill programme, Evie was determined to clear her mind of everything but getting better.
By the time she finished the second exercise programme and left the home gym to climb the first set of stairs from the basement, she already knew she’d pushed too hard. Every muscle ached. The last thing she needed was to collide with the rock-solid, Max-shaped wall with an undignified oomph.
‘What the...? Have you been in the gym all this time?’ he demanded angrily. ‘No, don’t answer that, I can see it for myself. You’re practically white, Evie.’
‘I think I did a bit too much,’ she admitted quietly, wondering if she was going to be sick or whether she just thought she was going to be.
‘You think?’
‘I just... Hey!’ She panicked as he scooped her up into his arms. ‘I need a shower—what are you doing?’
‘I’m doing exactly what it looks like. I’m carrying you into the kitchen because, frankly, you’re never going to make it upstairs by yourself, and I think you could do with something inside your stomach. Your shower can wait, unless you want to risk collapsing?’
‘You’re right,’ Evie answered slowly, trying to ignore the way every nerve ending in her body felt it was on fire beneath Max’s
touch. ‘I think I probably am a bit hungry.’
At least her stomach didn’t let her down, giving a thunderous rumble of agreement at the mention of food.
She wasn’t quite prepared for the indignity of Max instructing her to peel off her damp tee shirt and handing her his warm fleece jacket. Not even the sight of her in her bra caused a raised eyebrow from him, she thought glumly. A far cry from the fervour with which they had repeatedly devoured each other a year ago.
But within moments she was seated on a chair, a mouth-watering glass of no-longer-forbidden orange juice in front of her, Imogen in her line of sight and playing happily with some soft blocks, whilst Max whisked up two omelettes.
Evie watched in silence considering how, to an outsider, it might have looked like a scene of blissful domesticity. How wrong they would be. She pushed the thought from her head, wondering why she felt so down. But last night had only proved that whatever attraction had once bounced between her and Max, it was now gone. At least, on his part. So she might as well just enjoy the here and now with him as the father of her child, if nothing else.
‘D’you know I haven’t been able to eat a whole-egg omelette for almost a year?’ She forced herself to smile, realising that it wasn’t all that difficult as Max set the warm plate down in front of her and slipped into the far seat so that he didn’t block her view of their daughter.
‘Well, I make a mean omelette if I say so myself. Plus there’s a bagel with cream cheese and some smoked salmon if you want it.’
‘You remembered.’ She was surprised. Not that she could eat all that now, but it had been her favourite breakfast when working in the hospital, and Max had made it for her a couple of mornings during their fling. When they’d dragged themselves out of bed, that was. Or the shower. Or the swivel office chair.
They ate in companionable silence before Evie reluctantly pushed her chair back, carrying her plate over to the worktop.
‘Thanks,’ she told him sincerely. ‘I guess I’d better go and get a shower before the sweat dries on me and I get a chill. Can’t imagine Professor Goodwin would be amused.’
‘Not really,’ Max agreed. ‘Leave that, I’ll sort it.’
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