Second Chance with the Playboy

by Charlotte McFall

  “Anna,” he whispered. Marcus didn’t want to wake her. She looked so peaceful, her head bent slightly to one side. His whole body ached for a moment. He wondered why, then a sharp pain in his side alerted him to the reason.

  Annabel moaned in response as her eyes fluttered open. “Marcus, you’re awake.”

  “Yes, but I hurt like hell.”

  “You will. I had to cut you yesterday and insert a tube. You’ll be staying in hospital for a few days before being allowed home.” Annabel pulled her hand out of Marcus’s, her face filled with embarrassment.

  “Oh, I see. Because you never got to finish your brew, you decide to operate on me.” Marcus tried to laugh, but he cried out in pain.

  “Marcus, try not to make any sudden movements.”

  “Have you been here all night, sweets?” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl.

  “Yes, someone had to keep an eye on you.”

  “Thanks, for being here.” He didn’t know which way to take it. At least they weren’t shouting. “Where am I anyway?”

  “You’re back in Brighton. I thought it would be easier and no need to transport you back when you were feeling better.”

  Marcus nodded his agreement; he didn’t seem too bothered either way. He was glad it hadn’t been anything serious. Or had it? Oh well. Whatever had happened, at least Anna was there with him. He hadn’t done or said too much wrong to make her walk away.

  Just then, the door opened and an oldish gentlemen walked in with a stethoscope around his neck. “I’m glad to see you awake, Mr. Chapman.” The doctor picked up the chart at the end of the bed. “I hope you realize just how lucky you were yesterday.”

  “Er, no.” Bang goes that theory. “To be honest, I can just remember the crash and helping people. After that, it’s all a bit of a blur,” Marcus admitted.

  “Well, you’ve had a pneumothorax.” The doctor looked at him straight in the eyes.

  Marcus stared back, utterly confused. Whatever the doctor just said sounded bad. It was very uncomfortable, whatever he had done. His ribs were strapped up so tightly, he was having trouble breathing.

  “In layman’s terms, you broke several ribs, and one of your ribs punctured your lung.” The doctor placed the chart back at the end of the bed. “We’ve inflated it and want to keep you in hospital for a couple of days, and then you can go home. No strenuous exercise, rest and relaxation, healthy food.”

  “That explains why I feel like I have been hit by a wrecking ball,” Marcus quipped. “Great, no riding for a while. I was just beginning to enjoy that again.” Marcus frowned, but there was one perk to being sick—Anna was at his side. Just like it always should have been.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Chapman, but bikes are totally out of the question for the time being.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Yes, now I have rediscovered the joys of my motorbike, I am definitely not going to give it up.

  “Well, I will leave you two to it,” the doctor replied and left quietly.

  Annabel waited until he had gone. “You know he’s right. You need to completely relax for a while.”

  “Anna, can we talk please?” he implored her.

  “What about?”

  “The past?” Marcus added quietly.

  “There’s no point in revisiting that.” Annabel stood and walked slowly to the door. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “No, you don’t. You took the weekend off, and it’s Saturday. You’re not back at work till Monday.” Marcus moved a little too much, wincing in pain.

  “Why do you want to bring it all up? I was embarrassed enough back then. It will only make it worse.”

  Marcus stared intently into her face. “Just tell me why you never called.” He saw Annabel’s face contort.

  “How the hell was I meant to phone? I didn’t have your number.” Her voice rose slightly.

  He shook his head. “Yes, you did. I scrawled it down on that takeaway box we’d had.”

  “A takeaway box! You wrote your number on something I was going to throw away?” For a moment, Annabel was speechless. “Have you never heard of paper or even staying till I had woken up?”

  Annabel’s dig hit its mark as Marcus flinched at how she must have felt he had abandoned her. They had spent a wonderful night making love, and when the call about his grandma had come, he had to leave. He had no choice. What had he done to the one girl who had given him everything and he had given her nothing in return? “You try finding a piece of paper in that dump of a flat. There was stuff everywhere.”

  “Oh great, so not only did you leave me high and dry, but you’re having a dig about my flat too.” Annabel got up to leave.

  He tried to hold his arms out to stop her leaving. “Look, don’t go. Sit back down, and let’s discuss this, and at least pretend we’re adults.”

  Shaking him off, Annabel sat back down. “I guess it was messy back then,” she conceded. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him her house was pretty much as the flat had been.

  “My gran was rushed into hospital. That’s why I left.”

  Annabel listened. Was he telling the truth? His voice didn’t waver, and he was looking straight at her with those gorgeous blue-gray eyes of his. Someone had once told her that the eyes never lie, just look into them, and she would see.

  He placed his hand on hers, sending a shiver down her spine. “I came back a few days later, but you had gone. No one would tell me what uni you were at.”

  Somehow, Annabel thought he hadn’t looked very hard either. “What happened then happened. I was a convenient notch on your bedpost. A deranged woman you saw as an easy lay.”

  Marcus raised his voice several octaves. “You are not now nor were you ever a notch on my bedpost!” Disgust etched his face.

  She had always assumed that is what she had been.

  “I can’t believe your opinion of me is so low.”

  “I…I—”

  “Your comment shows me just what you really thought of me.” Marcus stared out of the window. He wanted to know how she had formed such a bad opinion of him.

  “Marcus, I’m sorry I assumed—”

  “I know what you assumed.” Had Annabel been so naïve? “You were so unlike any of the others.” He wasn’t going to tell her that she was the one he wanted to be with. That she had left him alone just as he had been falling in love with her. Then Josie had come along and caught him at his lowest ebb. Annabel had disappeared, and Josie was his rebound girl. But Emily, his little girl, now, she was the best thing to ever happen to him. Should he tell Annabel? Would she even understand why he had done what he had?

  She looked utterly embarrassed. Had she really made him into the bad guy without even checking her facts?

  “I’m so sorry, I…”

  “Look, come here,” Marcus said, patting the bed.

  Annabel approached cautiously. Had it really been a misunderstanding? They had wasted so much time; maybe, just maybe, they had a chance to sort this out.

  “Marcus.” She touched his face with her hand, and electricity arched between them.

  Was she too shy to ask for what she wanted, too scared to make the first move?

  Marcus lifted his arm up and snaked his hand around her neck, ignoring the pain that he felt. He moved Annabel’s face to his until he could feel her hot breath on his face. Brushing her lips gently with his, and when she didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. Marcus needed her. He had to show her just what she had always meant. Twisting his fingers into her hair, he held her tight against him.

  When she wrapped her arms around his neck, Marcus sensed she was being careful not to hurt him. He was dizzy, and his whole body tingled with anticipation. The noises he had heard a few minutes before from the corridor vanished. In that one moment, it was just the two of them, in their own world.

  A white heat filled his belly as he tried to keep hold of his sanity and not get carried away with a knee-weakening kiss. Marcus didn’t know how much more he could t
ake.

  What he wanted more than anything was to run his hands all over her naked body, for their hearts to beat as one, as their lips danced to an unheard tune.

  Chapter Six

  Marcus pulled away wincing in pain.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Annabel gasped pulling back quickly, horrified she might have hurt him.

  “Shh, I’ll survive.” Subdued pain laced his quiet chuckle. “I got a little…carried away too.” Marcus couldn’t believe his luck! Annabel had kissed him back with as much passion as he felt for her. “When I get out of here, do you want to do something?”

  Annabel smiled. “Yes, I’d love to,” she said while sitting back in the chair at the side of the bed, “as long as it’s a quiet something. We’ve had enough excitement for a while.”

  “I wonder how they’re all getting on with the ride.”

  “I’m not sure. I will give them a ring and tell you later.” Annabel glanced at her watch and let out a heavy breath. “I need to run.” The dull throbbing from her wound had become a toothed monster in the last couple of hours. She could no longer ignore her own need for sutures and clean bandages.

  “My bike?” Marcus’s loud shout shocked her.

  “Don’t worry. Someone is bringing it back to Brighton.” Annabel stared at the wall for a moment. “Not sure what condition it will be in after the ride.”

  “Oh, okay. It’s just that it’s a classic, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”

  Annabel laughed harshly. “You’ve suffered a serious injury, and all you’re concerned about is getting your bike back in one piece.” His priorities seemed a bit out of whack.

  “Well, I love my bike more than any woman,” he retorted.

  “Not surprising.”

  “Look, no one comes between a man and his toys.”

  “That death trap isn’t a toy.”

  Annabel was conflicted. She still didn’t like motorbikes but had to admit the feeling of freedom was liberating. “Marcus, what exactly do you do for a living? I mean, to be able to afford a bike like that?”

  “It’s boring really,” said Marcus, looking down at his hands. “I make people money. And lots of it. I started out as an accountant and went from there.”

  “Do you still do that?” Annabel paused as Marcus looked up at her. “Accounts, I mean?”

  “Yes, I do my own and for a couple of friends. Why?”

  “Oh, it’s probably nothing. I might need your help later.”

  “You only have to ask,” came his reply.

  Annabel was relieved she had someone to help, but in reality she so wanted to be wrong. The horrible niggling feeling kept eating away at her. She looked at Marcus. He looked so tired that overstaying her welcome wasn’t a good idea.

  “You need to rest, Marcus.” Annabel moved against the bed, taking his hand in hers. “I will come back later to check on you.”

  “No, don’t leave yet. Tell me what is worrying you.”

  “Well, do you know the hospital is shutting the children’s ward?” Annabel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “There’s something strange going on. I can’t explain. I don’t know.” Annabel ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “Not yet. I might learn something later.”

  “You know I will do anything to help you.”

  “Tell me about you. What has my bad boy biker been doing for all these years?” Annabel cringed. She’d let his old nickname slip.

  “Nothing much. After that summer, I knew it was time to get serious. I was nearly thirty, and I was still out having fun. It’s lucky I owned my own business. Otherwise, I would have got the sack for taking the whole summer off.”

  She loved the little naughty schoolboy smirk he had just given her. “Why did you never marry?”

  Marcus suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I just never found the right person.”

  Leaning over, she kissed him tenderly before she left the room.

  Annabel pressed her back against the wall just outside Marcus’s room. What just happened? She had just become comfortable with the idea of reestablishing a friendship with the man. That foundation was still unstable. Do I want a relationship? Do I want to chance ruining—no, no, no, she chided herself. Marcus wasn’t marrying or boyfriend potential. She dipped her chin to her chest and shook her head. Her fist balled at her sides, and her teeth grated together. She couldn’t think straight anymore. She perked up, righting her posture, and giving herself a firm nod. Paperwork. I have loads of paperwork, which means loads of time to think through this mess!

  She really had to get her arm seen to before she did anything else. Perhaps the nurses on this floor could do it. The only problem she could see would be if she did have glass embedded in the wound. Annabel spotted one of the nurses.

  “Do you have a minute, nurse?” she enquired.

  “Certainly, Doctor.” The young nurse seemed pleasant enough, her uniform a lighter blue than everyone else’s. A trainee, well she will do.

  “I cut my arm. Is there a chance you could clean it up for me, please?” Annabel used her sternest ward voice.

  “Certainly, just come with me.”

  They entered a small hospital room, fully equipped with everything the nurse would need. Annabel winced as she took her coat and t-shirt off. Blood had congealed, sticking her top to her body. Wonderful. My favorite t-shirt ruined.

  The nurse set to work cleaning the wound with sterile water, and after making sure there wasn’t any glass, stitched it up. Annabel was relieved that she had received a painkilling injection to numb the area. Now she could get back on with her job. Half a day spent not working was enough to drive her insane, at least she had an excuse, and now she could happily go back to work without feeling like her arm was trapped in a vise.

  Her footsteps echoed off the walls as Annabel wandered down to the lifts, to reach her floor. Mr. Wild appeared out of nowhere. It was very uncharacteristic of him to be near the ICU. He didn’t normally come into the wards unless to check on supplies. Just as slippery as a snake, aren’t you, Mr. Wild?

  “Am I to assume by your presence in the hospital, your charity bike ride hasn’t happened then?” he sneered.

  “It has, actually,” Annabel retorted.

  “So why are you back so early?” Mr. Wild looked at her in disgust. “You aren’t going to win against me, Dr. Simpson. Found yourself a new job yet?” He turned away for a moment and then looked back at her. “Don’t forget that I will need to bank all your charity money.”

  “No, you’re not touching that money.” She jammed her hand in her jeans pocket. “I am not going to find another job either. You will be the one leaving and looking for a new job.”

  “I would love to see you try and stop me with either.” Mr. Wild stepped into the lift. He turned to face the open doors. “We shall see who wins, Dr. Simpson,” he warned just as the doors closed.

  Annabel waited for the next lift. “What are you up to, Wild?” Why was he so certain he was going to get rid of her? Marcus might be able to help, but how could he help when she didn’t even know what Mr. Wild was up to? How much did she want Marcus to be involved with something that was clearly hospital politics?

  Whatever happened, there was one thing Annabel knew for sure—Mr. Wild was not getting his hands on the money they had raised to keep the children’s ward open. Whom did Mr. Wild think he was saying he would be the one to put it in the bank?

  She would ask Margaret Higginbottom for some time in her busy schedule this afternoon. The stern and old-fashioned woman was one of the many board members. While she wasn’t someone you wanted to invite over for Sunday dinner, she’d done several interviews with the papers, trying to help Annabel keep the children’s ward open. The rest of the board sat on the fence about the whole issue. If they couldn’t figure out why there wasn’t any money, Annabel wouldn’t be able to, at least not on her own.

  Once a meeting had been arranged, she tried phoning Rachel to see how the
ride was going and to tell her what had happened between her and Marcus. The call went straight to voicemail, so Annabel left her friend a message. Hopefully, at the next rest stop, Rachel would phone her back, if she wasn’t too busy with her hunky biker friend.

  Now all she had to do was kill time until four o’clock when Margaret showed up in her office. Annabel took a look around her office. There was paperwork strewn over her desk and medical journals in every corner. It seemed like a good time for a bit of a cleanup. The time she spent with her patients took away from maintaining her office, but with a bit of time on her hands and some excess energy to burn, maybe it was time to make her office reflect her approach to healthcare. The firm knock on her door came as she put away her last journal.

  “Come in,” Annabel shouted.

  “Dr. Simpson. How very nice to see you,” Margaret replied.

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I need to ask you something that’s puzzling me.” Annabel let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I’m wondering where all the money has gone for the children’s ward.”

  “I’m not sure. We have a third-party company buying the equipment. But otherwise, there shouldn’t be any problems.”

  Margaret had garnered Annabel’s attention. “A separate company buying medical equipment? That is strange.”

  “No, not at all. It is done so we do not get money for equipment mixed up with the money for the running costs.”

  Margaret’s condescending tone always raised Annabel’s hackles. As usual, Annabel was thankful when their conversation concluded. She watched Margaret leave her office as quickly as she came in.

  Annabel sank into her chair, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling tiles. Something was hurting Marcus. Something he wouldn’t share with her. What happened to his bravado and selfish attitude? He rarely laughed, and when he did, the laugh didn’t reflect in his eyes. What are you hiding, Marcus? It pained her to admit it, but she needed him. The trust issue—could she trust him? She was running out of people and places to turn.