‘Anyway, I have to go.’
‘Women waiting for you?’
That prim note in her voice had no business tingling through him like that.
‘Always.’
She shot him a deprecating look and he couldn’t help grinning, even as he moved to the flight of stairs, heading down two at a time.
‘See you around, Anouk.’
He was briefly aware of her grunt before she yanked open the door and shot through it. Waiting a few seconds to be sure the door closed behind her, Sol turned around and headed back upstairs to the neurology department to check on his patients.
He felt somehow oddly...deflated.
* * *
Anouk tapped her fingers agitatedly on her electronic pad as she waited for the lift.
Why did she keep letting Solomon Gunn get under her skin? It was ignominious enough that her body was clearly attracted to him but it was so much worse that she kept wanting him to be different from the playboy cliché—imagining that she saw glimpses of something deeper within him, for pity’s sake.
She who, of all people, should surely have known better?
She’d spent her entire childhood managing her mother. Playing the grown-up opposite her childlike mother—a woman who had perfected all the drama and diva-like tendencies of the worst kind of Hollywood star stereotypes.
She had watched the stunning Annalise Hartwood chase playboy after playboy, fellow stars and movie directors alike, convinced that she would be the one to tame them. It was the same story every time. Of course each finale was as trite as the last. Her biological father had been the worst, by all accounts, but ultimately they’d all ended up using her, hurting her, dumping her.
And Anouk had been the one who’d had to pick up the pieces and put her mother’s fragile ego back together.
Not that Annalise had ever thanked her for it.
Quite the opposite.
Anouk had never quite matched up to her mother’s mental image of how she should be as the daughter of a famous movie star. She’d been too gawky, too lanky; too introverted and too geeky; too book-smart and too gauche.
It had taken decades—and Saskia—for Anouk to finally realise that the problem hadn’t really been her. It had been her mother.
That deathbed confession had been the most desolating moment of all. The betrayal had been inconceivable. It had laid her to waste right where she’d stood.
That was the moment she’d realised she had to get away from her old life.
She’d changed her name, her backstory, and she’d come to the UK. And Saskia, loyal and protective, had dropped everything to come with her.
In over a decade in the UK no one had come close to getting under her skin and poking away at old wounds the way Sol had somehow seemed able to do.
The lift doors pinged and she stepped forward in readiness. The last person she expected to see inside was the cause of her current unease. This was the very reason she’d waited for the lift instead of returning via the staircase. For a moment, she almost thought he looked as unsettled as she felt.
But that was ridiculous. Nothing ever unsettled Sol.
‘Have you decided against getting in after all?’ he asked dryly when she’d hovered at the doors so long that he’d been compelled to step forward and press the button to hold them. ‘Anyone would think you were avoiding me.’
No, they wouldn’t. Not unless he’d equally been avoiding her, surely?
Her mind began to tick over furiously. Her school teachers had called her an over-thinker as a kid. They’d made it sound like a bad thing.
‘I thought you were leaving? Women to meet.’
‘I am.’ He shrugged casually, leaning back against the lift wall and stretching impossibly long, muscled legs in front of him.
‘Up in Neurology?’ she challenged.
‘I forgot something.’
She eyed him thoughtfully. No coat, no bag, no laptop.
‘What?’
‘Sorry?’
‘What did you forget?’ she pushed.
‘What is this?’
He laughed convincingly and anyone else might have believed him. She probably should believe him.
‘The Inquisition?’
‘You were checking on your patients,’ she realised, with a start.
Who was that patient he’d mentioned earlier? Ah, yes.
‘Mrs Bowman, by any chance?’
He swiftly covered his surprise.
‘My patient, my responsibility,’ he commented briskly.
Anouk ignored him.
‘And now you’re going back to support Izzy and her family.’
‘Is that so?’
Her heart thundered in Anouk’s chest and she didn’t know if it was at the realisation of what he was doing, or the fact that she was confronting him about it.
‘You play the tough guy, the playboy, but you’ve actually got a bit of a softer side, haven’t you?’
‘Vicious rumour,’ he dismissed.
‘I don’t think so.’
The lift bumped gently as they reached the ground floor and when she swayed slightly, Sol instinctively reached out to steady her. The unexpected contact was a jolt as though she’d grabbed hold of an electrical power cable with no Faraday suit to protect her.
It coursed through her, zinging from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
His darkening eyes and flared nostrils confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who felt it.
A little unsteadily, she made her way out of the lift with no choice but to walk together across the lobby or risk making things look all the more awkward.
The doors slid open and the cool night air hit her hard. In a matter of seconds he’d be gone, across the car park and into that low, muscled vehicle of his.
Any opportunity would have evaporated. For good.
She stopped abruptly at the kerbside.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Shoot,’ he invited.
She opened her mouth but her courage deserted her abruptly.
‘Those mince pies the other day...were you also the one who decorated the desk with tinsel?’
He grinned.
‘Sometimes in a place like this—’ he bobbed his head back to the hospital ‘—it can be easy to forget Christmas should be a celebration. Don’t underestimate how much a bit of tinsel and a few mince pies can lift the spirits.’
‘Blue and white tinsel hung like an ECG tracing,’ she clarified.
‘Festive and atmospheric all at once.’ He grinned again, and another moment of awareness rippled over her skin.
‘Right.’
‘Indeed.’
They watched each other a moment longer. Neither speaking. Finally, Sol took a step forward.
‘Well, goodnight, Anouk.’
‘Can I ask you something else?’
He stopped and turned back to her as she drew in a deep breath.
‘How is it you know this family so well? Well enough that you’ve saddled yourself with four of the worst shifts of the year just to get the night off to sit with those girls in there whilst your brother is helping their mum?’
A hundred witty comebacks danced on his tongue. She could practically feel them buzzing in the air around the two of them. But then he looked at her and seemed to bite them back.
‘Malachi and I work with a young carers’ group in town,’ he heard himself saying. ‘Katie and Isobel are two of about thirty kids who come to the centre.’
‘So many?’
It was the bleak look in his eyes that gouged her the most.
‘That’s not even the half of it.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve read the reports, probably around a quarter of a million kids are carers for a parent or other family member. All under sixte
en, some as young as four or five. We want to reach them all but we’ve only just got the council on board. Sometimes the hardest bit is getting people to even acknowledge there’s an issue.’
‘You’re raising awareness?’ Her eyebrows shot up.
This really meant something to him? He truly cared?
He watched her carefully, wordless for a moment. As if he was waging some internal battle. She waited, holding her breath, although she didn’t understand why.
‘We’re having a fundraiser on Saturday night, to throw a spotlight on the centre.’
‘Solomon Gunn is throwing a charity gala?’
Something flitted across his eyes but then he grinned and offered a nonchalant shrug, and it was gone.
‘What can I say? Lots of attractive, willing women to choose from, so I guess I get to kill the two proverbial birds with one stone.’
The silence pulled tighter, tauter.
A few hours ago she would have believed that. Now she knew it was an act. And that was what terrified her the most.
Was she being open-minded and non-judgemental? Or was she simply being gullible, seeing what she wished she could see?
‘Come with me.’
She had a feeling the invitation had slipped out before he could stop himself.
She frowned.
‘Sorry?’
For a moment she thought he was going to laugh it off.
‘Be my guest at the gala.’
Something rocked her from the inside. Like thousands of butterflies all waking up from their hibernation, and beating their wings all at once.
She had never experienced anything like it.
‘Like...a date?’
‘Why not?’ he asked cheerfully.
As though it was no big deal to him.
It probably wasn’t.
‘With you?’
‘Your eagerness is a real ego boost for a man, you know that?’
She aimed a sceptical look in his direction.
‘I hardly think a man like you needs any more ego massages. You have women practically throwing themselves at you at every turn.’
‘I’m not asking them, though, am I?’ he pointed out. ‘I’m asking you.’
She schooled herself not to be sucked in. Not to fall into that age-old trap. But it wasn’t as easy as it had been for all those other men who had flirted with her over the years.
Because those other guys hadn’t been Sol, a small voice needled her.
Anouk gritted her teeth.
‘Is that why you’re inviting me? Because you don’t like the fact that I’m not falling over myself to flirt with you?’
‘That’s exactly it,’ he replied, deadpan. ‘I find my ego can’t take the knockback.’
‘Sarcastic much?’ she muttered, but a small smile tugged at her mouth despite herself.
‘I’ll pick you up at half-past seven.’
‘I might be on duty.’
‘You aren’t.’ He shrugged.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Relax. I was just checking the rotas before and I don’t remember seeing your name.’
She told herself that it meant nothing. It was pure coincidence.
‘What makes you think I want to go?’
‘What else are you doing that night? It’s fun, and, hey, you can do something for charity at the same time.’
He was impressively convincing.
‘People will think I’m just the next notch on your bedpost.’
‘Some women are happy to have that accolade.’
‘I am not some women.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘You are not.’
The compliment rolled through her, making long-dormant parts of her body unfurl and stretch languidly. Her head was rapidly losing this battle with her body.
‘How about this?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll give you my ticket and you can take Saskia, or whoever you want, as your plus one.’
‘You would give me your ticket?’
‘Sure. That way you won’t feel like I’m trying to obligate you in any way.’
‘And I could take anyone?’
‘Of course.’
She narrowed her eyes.
‘Even a date of my own?’
‘Oof!’ He clutched his stomach as though she’d delivered a punch to his gut, making her laugh exactly as he’d clearly intended. ‘You know where to strike a man, don’t you? Yes, even a date of your own.’
‘And you would miss out? On something as important to you as you’ve suggested these young carers are?’
‘Oh, I won’t miss out,’ he said airily. ‘I’ll just go as someone else’s plus one.’
It shouldn’t hurt to hear. Yet it did. Anouk arranged her features into what she hoped was a neutral expression.
‘Of course. You must have a whole host of potential dates just waiting for you to call.’
‘So many it can become exhausting at times,’ he concurred blithely.
‘I’ll leave the tickets behind the Resus desk for you before your shift ends tomorrow.’
And then, before she could answer, or say anything uncharacteristically stupid, Sol walked away. The way they probably both should have done ten minutes earlier.
CHAPTER THREE
‘THIS PLACE IS STUNNING,’ Anouk breathed as she gazed up at the huge sandstone arches that lined either side of the gala venue, and then up again to the breathtaking vaulted ceiling.
‘Isn’t it?’ Saskia demurred.
‘I feel positively shabby by comparison.’
‘Well, you don’t look it.’ Saskia laughed and Anouk wondered if she’d imagined the tension she’d noted in her friend over the past few months. ‘You look like you’re sparkling, and it isn’t just the new dress. Although I’m glad you let me talk you into buying it.’
‘I’m glad I let you talk me into buying it, too,’ admitted Anouk, smoothing her hands over the glorious fabric.
It was amazing how much confidence the dress was giving her, from its fitted body and plunging sweetheart neckline to its mermaid hemline. Three strings of jewelled, off-the-shoulder straps swished over her upper arms whilst the royal-blue colour seemed to complement her blonde hair perfectly.
‘You look totally Hollywood.’
‘Don’t.’ Anouk shuddered, knowing Saskia was the one person she could be honest with. ‘I think I’ve had enough of Hollywood to last me a lifetime.’
‘Me, too. But still, the look is good.’
‘Maybe I should have been in more festive colours.’ She glanced at Saskia’s own, stunning emerald dress, which had looked gorgeous on the rack, but on her friend’s voluptuously feminine body seemed entirely bespoke, complementing Saskia’s dark skin tone to perfection.
‘I look like a Christmas tree.’ Her friend laughed, before waving towards the glorious eighteen-foot work of art, complete with elegant decorations, that dominated the entrance. ‘Although if I looked that amazing I’d be happy.’
‘You look even better, and you know it.’ Anouk laughed. ‘You’ve only just walked in and you’ve turned a dozen heads.’
‘They’re probably looking at you, and, either way, I don’t care. Tonight, Anouk, we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves.’
‘We are?’
‘We are.’ Saskia was firm, taking a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter, her beam of thanks making the poor guy fall for her instantly. ‘Starting with this.’
She passed the drink to Anouk.
‘You still feeling sick?’ Anouk frowned.
‘Yeah.’ Saskia pulled a rueful face but Anouk didn’t miss the flush of colour staining her cheeks.
If she hadn’t known better she might have suspected that Saskia was pregnant. But that surely wasn’t possible? Up until ten months
ago Saskia had been engaged and, for all Saskia’s confidence and effervescent personality, Anouk knew her ex-fiancé had been only the second man her friend had ever slept with.
But he hadn’t been as loyal, and Anouk had never really taken to him. Whenever she’d looked at him she’d seen yet another playboy—just like her mother’s lovers.
Just like Sol, a voice whispered in her head.
‘Relax.’ Saskia nudged her gently. ‘Enjoy your drink.’
‘I don’t really like...’ Anouk began, but her friend shushed her.
‘You do tonight.’
Anouk balked.
She still wasn’t sure what had happened at that nightclub. She had the vaguest memory of starting to relax and trying to have a little fun, and then a sense of panic. After that it wasn’t clear, but she’d ended up back home, in her own bed, alone.
Safe.
The popping bubbles looked innocuous enough—fun, even—but all Anouk could see was her mother, downing glasses and popping pills. Had anything else passed her lips in those final few years?
‘One glass doesn’t make you your mother.’ Saskia linked her arm through Anouk’s, reading her mind.
Anouk offered a rueful smile.
‘That obvious, huh?’
‘Only to me. Now go on, forget about your mother and enjoy this evening. You and I both deserve a bit of time off, and, anyway, we’re supporting a good cause.’
‘We are, aren’t we?’ Anouk nodded, dipping her head and taking a tentative sip.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. In fact, it was actually quite pleasant. Not the cheap plonk, at least, with no bitter aftertaste. Including that of her mother.
Sighing quietly, Anouk finally felt some of the tension begin to uncoil within her.
This was going to be a good evening. She was determined to enjoy it.
* * *
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming after all.’
His voice was like a lightning bolt moving through her, pinning her to the spot. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and even her legs gave a traitorous tremor beneath the gorgeous blue fabric.
Unwrapping the Neurosurgeon's Heart Page 3