by Leah Martyn
Ruefully, he looked down at his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the benchtop. It would be the death knell to his hopes if he rushed her. But holding back was hard—harder than anything he'd ever had to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Abbey got out of the shower knowing she was in a state of wild anticipation of the evening ahead.
Oh, for heaven's sake, get a grip! Giving herself the silent admonishment, she padded through to the bedroom. It was merely going to be a quiet evening at home with a colleague, accompanied by an impromptu meal. And perhaps said colleague was a dud cook anyway and the food would be awful...
Who was she kidding? She gave a jagged laugh, throwing her softest, sleekest pair of jeans across the bed, then collected lacy underclothes from the bureau drawer.
The evening wasn't about colleagues or food, good or bad. It was about a man and a woman. And they both knew it!
With an effort, she managed to get her thoughts under control, dressing quickly in her jeans and a close-fitting red V-necked pullover. The colour gave her a sense of power, she decided. Besides, it went well with her complexion.
She took in a calming breath and then picked up her brush, stroking it almost roughly through her hair. In a final dash of bravado, she coloured her mouth expertly with a rose lipstick and fluffed on a light spray of perfume. After one last glimpse in the mirror, she left her bedroom and made her way along the hallway to the kitchen.
Nick was bent over the cook top. The pasta was boiling merrily and he was stirring something in a saucepan on another hotplate. 'Something smells good,' she said, sniffing the appetising aroma as she peered over his shoulder.
'It's getting there.' Grinning, he turned his head and kissed her, a sweet undemanding little smooch that took her by surprise. 'What about setting the table?'
'So, does this concoction have a name?' Abbey got down some large bowls for their pasta.
Nick gave the pot a final stir. 'Officially, Tortiglioni alla zingara. But this version has sweet potato instead of aubergine, otherwise it's pretty much authentic.' He drained the pasta with a flourish and gave it a shake. 'I've left the Parmesan separate— not everyone cares for it.'
Her mouth watering, Abbey watched as he swirled the pasta into a large bowl and then folded the rich red sauce through it. 'It's hardly Italian fare without it, though, is it?'
'Probably not.' Lifting a hand, he playfully ran the tip of his finger down her nose and across the top of her cheek. 'I found some oregano as well in one of your pots. I haven't managed to prepare it yet.'
'I'll do that.' Her heart gave a sideways skip and she gave an off-key little laugh, stepping away from him to the worktop. She took up the rather scraggy- looking bunch of leaves. 'Should I chop it or tear it?'
'Roughly chop, please.' Nick was precise. 'And then chuck it over the pasta.'
They ate with obvious enjoyment. 'How did I do, then?' Nick gave her a look so warm that Abbey caught her breath.
She coloured faintly. 'You did so well I might just keep you.' She laughed. 'Honestly, Nick, this is wonderful.'
He lifted a shoulder modestly. 'But, then, we were both starving, weren't we? Probably bread and cheese would've seemed like a feast.' Something flickered in his gaze, something Abbey couldn't immediately define, and then he looked away.
'It's still very early, isn't it?' They'd come to the end of the meal and Abbey cast around for something to say, and in the process sent a distracted look at the quaint little cuckoo clock on the wall.
'Meaning what, exactly?' Nick's gaze shimmered over her face and then roamed to register the gleam of lamplight in her hair and on the ridge of her collarbone. Hell's bells, he could almost taste her...
Abbey felt panic-stricken. What on earth were they to do with the long evening ahead? What did Nick expect to do? Her teeth caught on her lower lip as she drummed up an awkward smile. 'Meaning, do you play Scrabble—or Trivial Pursuit?'
His gaze went briefly to the ceiling. 'I've a much better idea. Let's make some coffee and take it through to the lounge. Is it cool enough for a fire, do you suppose?'
'Oh, yes, I should think so.' Glad of something to do, Abbey shot to her feet. 'The kindling's all there. If you'd do that, I'll make the coffee.'
She took as long as she dared. Finally, when it was obvious she couldn't delay any longer, she picked up the tray of coffee and walked through the arched doorway to the lounge room.
Nick had the fire going and he'd lit one table lamp at the end of the comfortable old sofa. He was sitting under the light, leafing through one of her Town and Country magazines, and when she walked in he looked directly at her, his face still in shadow. 'I thought you must have gone to Brazil for the coffee beans,' he said blandly.
Abbey felt herself beginning to flush. 'Sorry if I was a bit long. I stacked the dishwasher as well.'
He raised a dark eyebrow. 'I didn't know we had one.'
'It's in the laundry for the moment.' She placed the tray on the mahogany chest in front of the fire. 'We're still waiting for the plumber to do the necessary adjustment so it can go in the kitchen,' she lamented. 'It certainly would make things a lot easier.'
'Well, don't look at me!' Nick raised his hands in mock horror. 'My mechanical skills stop a long way short of anything to do with plumbing.'
'Surely you can replace a tap washer?' she teased.
He looked baffled. 'Taps have washers? That's news to me.'
Abbey's mouth tucked in on a grin as she sent down the plunger on the coffee. They were shadow dancing again—fooling about, as if it was obvious to both of them that if their conversation became too serious, too personal, it would all be too confronting.
And because anything else would have seemed ridiculous, she took her place beside him on the sofa, feeling his gaze on her as she leant over and poured his coffee.
'Thanks.' Nick's fingers brushed hers as she handed him the steaming brew. 'That smells wonderful.' His mouth quirked in the faintest smile. 'Well worth the trip to Brazil.'
Abbey hiccuped a laugh and their gazes met and clung. His look was warm and heavy and on reflex she moistened parched lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, almost burning her with intent.
With fingers that shook, Abbey poured her own coffee, taking several deep breaths to steady herself.
'How long does your contract have to run?' he asked.
She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat. Where on earth had that sprung from? 'Six months or thereabouts. Why?'
'Just wondered.' He took a careful mouthful of his coffee. 'Any plans to come back to the coast?'
At his question, their gazes swivelled and caught and Nick's eyes held hers for a long moment, before he looked down broodingly into his coffee-cup.
'I...hadn't actually thought about it.' Leaving her coffee untouched on the tray, Abbey wrapped her arms around her midriff, as if warding off his question. 'It would be very difficult to find a replacement. The people had been waiting for over a year for a full-time medical officer when I came.'
'So, what are you saying?' Nick's jaw hardened. 'That you're bound here by some kind of emotional and ethical blackmail?'
Abbey's sound of disgust indicated what she thought of that. 'Does it occur to you I might like it here?'
'It sure looked like you were having a barrel of laughs coming down that cliff today,' he growled. 'I hate the thought of you taking those kinds of risks, Abbey.'
She bristled. 'For heaven's sake, Nick! It's not like Wingara has a team of paramedics on call. Attending the scene of an accident is my job!'
The silence fell thickly between them.
Jerkily, Abbey picked up her coffee, taking several quick mouthfuls. 'You can't tell me what to do, Nick,' she said quietly. 'It's none of your business anyway.'
'What if I were to make it my business?'
'And how would you do that?' More composed now, although her heart was rattling against her rib- cage, she turned her head towards him, leaning back into the softness o
f the sofa, her coffee balanced high against her chest.
'Convince you to come back to Sydney with me.' His eyes locked with hers, dark in shadow, caressing, powerful.
'You're asking me to dump my patients?' She barely controlled the accusation in her voice. 'I'd have to find your offer pretty damned irresistible to make me even consider that.' Their eyes skittered away from each other and then reconnected and all of a sudden, once again, it was dangerous territory.
'Perhaps you will.'
Abbey opened her mouth and closed it and then opened it again. 'So, the chase is on, then?' she blurted, almost unable to believe they were having this conversation.
He sent her a dry smile. 'If you want to put it like that, yes, Abbey Jones, the chase is on.'
His meaning was quite clear and her response was instinctive. 'This is insane, Nick. But much more fun than Scrabble, I have to say.' She finished her coffee slowly and placed her cup back on the tray. 'So, what would you like to do now?' She tilted a slightly challenging look at him, letting her shoes drop to the floor and curling her legs beneath her.
Nick's sudden action made her jump.
'What are you doing?' she gasped, as he swung her feet around and then lifted them onto his lap.
'Just this...' With strong, supple hands, he began to massage the soles of her feet.
Abbey felt like purring. No one had ever massaged her feet before. She'd had no idea anything could be so seductive and, in a way, so liberating... 'I shouldn't be letting you do this.'
'Indulge me, hmm?' His dark head came up, his mouth curling slightly, as his hands moved up and down her feet and ankles, first her left and then right. 'Good?'
Abbey took a shaken breath then smiled, false brightness covering a multitude of mixed emotions. 'It's fantastic.'
As he'd known it would be.
'I could go to sleep,' she murmured a bit later. Her head had dropped back on the cushions and her whole body felt like liquid silk.
'I'll help you to bed,' Nick promised softly.
'No, you won't.' His words had her shooting determinedly upright, bracing her hand against the back of the sofa and preparing to lever herself off.
But Nick was quicker. Before she could properly make her move, his arms had cradled her and scooped her up. 'Bed for you, Dr Jones,' he murmured into her hair. 'It's been a very long, very full day.'
'It's not that late.'
'Maybe it's later than you think.'
'Nick, put me down!' But her outrage was muted and only half-hearted.
'Don't argue, Abbey.' He carried her easily as if she weighed no more than an armful of roses.
She made a tiny sound in her throat. It felt so good in his arms... So safe. Safe? Now, that was odd... She was aware of him opening the door to her bedroom and carrying her inside.
The moon was out in earnest now, striping the walls and the white bed cover with soft light.
'Nick... ?' Abbey reached up to stroke his face, and felt him stiffen. 'Will you start the dishwasher?'
His mouth twitched. 'You're a real romantic.'
'You're trying to seduce me...'
'Of course I am.' She felt his smile on her temple as he pressed a kiss there. 'But not tonight.' He lowered her to the bed. 'Sleep well.'
'Mmm.' Her eyes were already closed.
Abbey rose earlier than usual next morning but it was obvious Nick had risen earlier still. She found him in the kitchen, his hands wrapped round a mug of tea.
'Oh...' Her gaze ran over his attire. 'You've already done your run.' Her tone showed her disappointment. She'd been hoping some exercise would have helped chase away the inner turmoil she'd felt from the moment she'd woken. 'I was going to come with you.'
'You have to be up early to catch me.' The sides of his mouth pleated in a dry smile. 'Sleep well?'
'Yes, thank you,' she murmured, her throat suddenly dry. Jerkily, she turned her back on him, helping herself to a cup of tea from the pot he'd made.
'You had a phone call last night.'
'Was it the hospital?' Abbey spun round, cup in hand.
Nick shook his head. 'Your friend, Andrea Fraser. I introduced myself, said you'd turned in early. She's invited us out to their place today. I accepted. I hope that's all right?'
'It's fine.' Abbey swallowed some of her tea. 'And it'll be nice. I haven't seen the Frasers in a while,' she remarked with a tiny frown. 'You'll like their property, Risden. There's a lovely expanse of river and places to picnic. What time do they want us?'
Nick lifted a shoulder. 'As soon as we'd like. I said we'd need to do a hospital round and so on first.'
'I'll do that.'
'I prefer to check my own post-op patients/ he said evenly.
So, thanks but, no, thanks. Abbey could have let it go but didn't. 'Don't you trust me to know what to look for?'
He made an impatient click with his tongue. 'It's not like we're swamped, Abbey. Lighten up.' He swung to his feet, brushing her arm as he emptied the dregs of his mug into the sink.
She moved away as if she'd been stung, his scathing tone negating any closeness she'd felt towards him last night. She brought her chin up. 'We should arrange an on-call roster, then. I certainly don't want to be treading on your precious toes every time I open my mouth.'
'Now you're being childish,' he said mildly. Dumping his mug in the sink, he walked out.
'I know who's childish!' she flung after him. 'Nick...' She went after him, catching up with him in the hallway opposite his bedroom. 'Why are you being like this?'
He folded his arms, leaning back against the wall and looking big and determined. 'Like what?'
She raised a shoulder uncertainly. 'So...cross.'
'Cross?' The word seemed to amuse him.
Abbey sucked in her breath. 'You know what I mean.' Her gaze steadied on him. The faint shadows under his eyes were obviously a residue of a restless night. Could that mean...? She felt weak suddenly, too near him. 'Didn't you sleep well?'
His shoulders lifted in a long-suffering sigh. 'I slept fine, thanks.' He rubbed a hand through his hair, his mouth compressing on a wry smile. 'I promise I'll be more reasonable after a shower and some breakfast.'
Abbey's thoughts were churning. 'I'll, um, make something, then. I'm quite good at scrambled eggs...'
Several expressions chased through his eyes. 'I know for a fact you're good at any number of things, Dr Jones,' he said, his voice not quite even. 'See you in a bit.'
They left for the Frasers' property just after ten.
'We'll take my car,' Nick said. 'Roads OK?'
'Fine.' Abbey's felt her nerves tighten. Dipping her head, she slid into the passenger seat as he held the door open for her. 'It's about fifty K's out and we'll be travelling in the opposite direction to Jumbuck Ridge,' she told him. 'The country is much more pleasant, softer.'
'So, fill me in about your friends.' Nick was obviously enjoying himself, gunning the Jag along a straight stretch of country road.
'Stuart's a born and bred local. Risden's been in his family for ever. But he's the new-breed grazier. Been away to university and all that stuff. He's a lovely guy. And Andrea and he are just so well suited. Where he's rather considered in what he does, she's all bubbly and spontaneous.'
'Do they have children?' Nick asked interestedly.
'Two. Michael who's eleven and Jazlyn who's nine, I think. They do school at home. Andi was a teacher so she's able to see to all that.'
Nick raised a dark eyebrow. 'How did they meet?'
'Andi was transferred to Wingara Primary. They met at a fundraiser for the hospital.'
For a while then there was silence, until Nick said quietly, 'It really is something special out here, isn't it?' He silenced a self-deprecating laugh, a little amazed at how some inner part of him had begun to respond almost unconsciously to the rich, bold colours of this huge landscape. The true deep blues and rusty reds were stuff from an artist's palette. And the stillness was so intense, he could almost hear h
is own heartbeat.
'It all kind of takes you over.' Abbey's eyes glowed. 'The landscape seems so pure and clean. And everything seems so incredibly still.''
He swung his head towards her and lifted an eyebrow. 'How did you know that's what I was thinking?'
'Just did,' she answered on a half-laugh, and saw a frown notch his forehead. Now what? Was it all right for him to guess her thoughts but not the reverse? Turning her head, she stared out through the side window, her eyes following the distant line of trees that marked the river.
Her thoughts began spinning this way and that. He'd set out deliberately to spend this time with her. Was he now in a way being hoist with his own petard—being made vulnerable by the same physical closeness he'd orchestrated?
The breathtaking thought sent a wild ripple through her veins that powered to a waterfall when his hand reached out, found her fingers and carried them all the way to his lips.
'Well, aren't you the dark horse?' Andrea's blue eyes were alight with conjecture.
'Who, me?' Abbey pretended innocence. She was helping her friend stack the dishwasher after a delicious barbecue lunch of best Risden-produced steaks, potatoes cooked in their jackets in the coals and heaped helpings of salads.
'Yes, you.' A muted 'tsk' left Andrea's mouth. With brisk precision, she slotted the dinner plates into their racks in the dishwasher. 'How long has this been going on?'
Abbey felt warm colour flood her cheeks. 'Nick and I met a few weeks ago in Hopeton—at the TV station of all places. Over a medical debate scheduled for the Countrywide programme.'
'Oh, my gosh!' Andrea's hand went to her heart. 'That's brilliant!'
'You wouldn't have thought so if you'd been me,' Abbey said with feeling, 'Anyhow...' she lifted a shoulder expressively '... Nick kind of followed it up.'
'Followed you up, you mean!' Andrea was blunt. 'It's obvious something's clicked between you. He can't take his eyes off you. Are you just as keen?'
Abbey groaned. 'Andi, it's early days and it's complicated.'