‘See he keeps up his fluids and if he’s in pain, he can have some children’s paracetamol. If you’re worried about anything, contact the hospital. There’ll be someone who can talk to you.’
Voices from inside the room told them Mickey was ready to go.
‘Can I see my scooter?’ he asked as the two women returned.
‘I put it in the bin,’ Mrs Richards told him. ‘It was all broken and we’ll get you a new one just as soon as your lip’s better.’
‘Only you’ll have to learn how to stop it,’ Angus said, and Mickey laughed.
I could go now, should go now, Kate thought as Angus, Mickey and Mrs Richards chatted about scooters. One of the duty doctors will discharge him.
But she stayed until Mr Richards, apparently summoned by his wife, arrived to take his family home.
Kate followed them out the door, only too aware of Angus, who’d stopped to speak to Sam, just a few steps behind her.
Aware too of an inner unease that she’d felt since she’d first seen Angus with the child.
Unease she couldn’t quite define, not sadness—or perhaps a little of that—but more what-ifs.
‘You were terrific with that little boy,’ she said to him as he drew up beside her. Saying something—anything—helped to hide all the physical manifestations of being near him that were now becoming common.
At least they’d chased away the unease...
‘I like kids,’ he said. ‘I’d have liked to have some but Michelle felt, with me away so much, it might not be fair on them. I had to agree with her, but still...’
Michelle’s name acted like a bucket of cold water on Kate’s too-sensitised skin. Or had it been his talk of not having a child?
Practically blinded by the muddle of emotions churning inside her, Kate paused in the bustling hospital vestibule.
‘I need to go back—get my things,’ she said, and fled.
This was madness!
She was rushing into something because her hormones were in chaos, nothing more.
Except there was something more—something to do with feeling alive again, feeling at one with another human being, and wanting to share, to talk and laugh and, yes, make love.
Oh, yes, that was definitely part of it.
But she couldn’t go into it—whatever it might be—with doubts or second thoughts. Wouldn’t go into it that way!
She smiled to herself as excitement built within her once again. It might be just for now, but this was going to be a now she’d remember for the rest of her life...
* * *
Angus frowned as he watched her go. He’d been congratulating himself on being able to talk and joke with Mickey and his mother when all he’d really wanted to do was watch Kate. Not so much watch her stitch a cut lip but just watch her, wonder at the fate that had brought them back together, really look at her to see if he could understand just what it was that attracted him to her—or was it her to him—so strongly.
He tried to make sense of it as he walked out of the hospital, certain Kate would eventually exit but probably through some staff door he hadn’t yet discovered.
She was smart—clever—and he liked that, and driven to succeed—a trait he shared—but that was mind stuff. What really puzzled him was the body stuff. He was sure his heart had probably skipped a beat when he’s seen Michelle way back when they’d begun to go out together, but not every time he’d seem her, more when they’d been parted for a while.
With Kate, the little skip was there not only when he saw her but when he heard her voice, or thought about her agreeing to a short-term relationship.
For now, as she’d called it.
For a moment, he wondered if it had to be ‘for now’, the thought startling him so much he stopped mid-stride. No, the army was his life—well, not so much the army but definitely the tent. He wanted to see it through.
But if he wasn’t in the army?
He pushed the thought away...
CHAPTER FOUR
KATE HAD A quick shower in the staffroom, washing her hair, which always seemed to smell of disinfectant after even a small procedure at the hospital. She towelled it dry, pulled on the clean undies she kept in her locker, then studied the other clean clothes stashed in it. They weren’t up to much, apart from being clean—jeans, a T-shirt, an ancient parka in case it was cold walking home, and...
On a hanger, right at the back, a pair of black slacks and a dark blue cotton-knit sweater that she’d brought along one night when the SDR team were going out to dinner to celebrate something she could no longer remember.
She’d been held up in Theatre so hadn’t gone, but the clothes had stayed in her locker. They’d have to do, although a little bit of her wished she’d had something to dress up in to go out on this ‘date’.
Not that she had much that counted as dressy at home either. Alice had been right. She’d shut herself away for far too long.
Not any more!
Hurrying now, she dressed, applied minimal make-up—a little mascara to her eyes and bright red lipstick—and set off to meet Angus again.
For a date!
Her heart skittered and she paused to wonder if it was normal for a woman of her age to be feeling so—so what? Nervous certainly, yet excited. Upbeat, yet worried about what she might be flinging herself into.
Then the thought of Angus brought warmth rushing through her body, and a glint to the eyes she could see in the mirror.
You only have one life, she reminded herself, thinking of Alice’s words after the accident.
So go live it! she told her reflection, and all but marched out of the hospital.
‘Nice transformation,’ Angus said as he met her, but it was the admiration in his eyes that was her reward. She smiled at him, more at ease now.
They walked up the hill to the restaurant, a light sea breeze teasing Kate’s hair, Angus’s deep voice teasing other bits of her.
How far would a ‘for now’ relationship go?
How far did she want it to go?
A different stirring inside her now, giving her an answer, so when Angus linked his arm through hers, she let him draw her close and sensations as powerful as a kiss flooded through her.
And through him, that he drew her into the deep shadows of an overhanging tree and kissed her hard and long?
Her legs were shaking as she drew away, desire flaming through her, heating her body, sensitising her nipples.
‘I can cancel our reservation,’ he whispered, telling her he’d felt it too.
‘I guess we have to eat,’ she said, denying the new surge of emotion.
‘I guess we do, but perhaps...’
They’d reached the restaurant and hesitated in the light outside it, and the matching heat of desire in Angus’s eyes all but stole her breath.
‘One course,’ she said softly. ‘And a glass of wine, not a bottle.’
He grinned, devilment dancing in his dark eyes.
‘And all the time I’ll be thinking what we’ll do—what I’d like to do to you and like you to do to me.’
Kate felt the heat flare in her cheeks.
‘Perhaps we should have cancelled,’ she murmured, the huskiness of her voice a dead give-away of her feelings.
Alex took her elbow and swept her up the steps.
‘Come on, I’ve booked a table with the best view of the beach.’
The waiter showed them through onto a small balcony, and Kate could only shake her head.
‘It’s beautiful! I’ve seen the suburb at night but never like this,’ she said.
“So glad m’lady approves,’ Angus said, doffing an imaginary hat and bowing low.
Blushing again, Kate sank into the chair the waiter was holding then breathed in the fresh sea air.
Things were moving far too fast
for someone who’d been a loner for two—three really—years. Yet she wanted this man in a way she’d never felt before—wanted to be in bed with him, hot and hard and urgent in her need.
‘What?’ she demanded, turning back to see him smiling at her.
‘You could never play poker,’ he teased.
‘Why not?’ she asked, and he laughed.
‘Every thought you have is written on your face, every doubt is shadowed in your eyes.’ And, still smiling added, ‘I won’t rush you into this, Kate.’
This time any colour in her cheeks would be from embarrassment, but she didn’t have the words for her unease. Perusing the menu took a bit of time, and ordering a little more, but when that was done Angus reached across the table and took her hand.
‘What’s bothering you?’
She smiled, partly because his holding her hand was very nice indeed but also because it was easy to talk to Angus.
‘Every single thing about this whatever it is—not the actual getting together bit of it, or even the “for now” part, but I suppose it’s because we don’t really know each other, do we, yet later tonight we’ll probably be in bed—’
This time his grin sent goose-bumps down her spine.
‘Getting to know each other better,’ he pointed out, and she gave up.
She’d tuck all doubts—particularly about secrets—deep down in her heart, and go with the flow, see where it led, knowing it would end when the army sent him somewhere—tomorrow, or next week, or, with any luck, maybe in a month.
Or two?
Now you’re being greedy, she chided herself, removing her hand from Angus’s grip as their meals arrived.
They talked of Mickey and his mother, which led to childhood accidents.
‘I fell out of a tree when I was six,’ Angus told her. ‘Mum saw me lying on the ground and fainted, which was helpful. Fortunately, a neighbour had heard me yell and came rushing in. He called an ambulance and they thought it was for Mum, who was still lying on the ground, so no one took much notice of my broken arm until they’d made sure Mum was all right and had driven away.’
‘So, what happened then?’ Kate asked, mainly to divert her mind from picturing Angus as a young boy.
‘Oh, the neighbour drove me to hospital. I think he fancied Mum but she never looked twice at him. Or at any man after my dad died. He’d been in the army and was killed in a helicopter crash—not shot down in anger, just a chance malfunction of some kind back at home.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Kate said, and he shook his head.
‘It was for Mum but I didn’t really remember him. I was barely two so my memories are from photos of him in his army uniform.’
‘And your mother?’
‘Died when I was ten. The official word was cancer, but Gran, who brought me up, with a bit of help from a couple of uncles, always said it was grief.’
It was Kate’s turn to reach across the table to touch Angus’s hand, but although he squeezed her fingers in response, he wouldn’t accept sympathy.
‘Don’t feel sorry for me, I had a perfectly happy childhood. Gran was fantastic. One of my uncles is a doctor and so I chose the army for my father and a doctor because of him, which got me to where I am today.’
‘But losing your mother like that,’ Kate murmured.
Angus shrugged, broad shoulders rising.
‘Mum was sick for a long time so Gran had always been my rock—’
He paused, looking at the woman across the table—the woman he barely knew yet felt he knew.
‘A bit like Alice was yours, I imagine,’ he finished, and was pleased when Kate smiled.
‘Only too true,’ she said, pushing her empty plate away. ‘Shall we go?’
As a hunger unlike any he’d ever felt before had been gnawing away at his intestines since she’d walked out of the hospital—slim and upright, the blue top thing she wore making her eyes seem bluer—he didn’t argue.
He gave the waiter his card, signed the bill and, as quickly as decency allowed, led her out of the restaurant.
‘Should you phone Alice?’ he asked.
She leaned into him, kissed his cheek.
‘Did it from the hospital—told her not to wait up. But I’ll have to go home sometime, I’m on an early shift.’
‘Then off for three days, is that right?’
She chuckled, a soft warm sound that sounded like small bells in his ears.
Small bells in his ears?
What was that about?
‘Yes, three whole days,’ she was saying when he’d pulled himself together.
‘Shall we go away?’
She turned to face him, obviously puzzled.
‘Go away?’ she echoed.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘together, somewhere nice—well, different—just the two of us. To Sydney maybe.’
‘We’re already in Sydney,’ she pointed out as he steered her back down the street.
‘But right in Sydney, in the city, a big anonymous hotel, do the sights, Luna Park, the Zoo, ferry rides to Manly or up the river. Let me show you my home town. There’s more to Sydney than Bondi Beach, you know.’
‘Hush your mouth,’ she said, laughing as she spoke. ‘Don’t let anyone around here hear you say that!’
So they were both laughing when they reached his hotel, and although he could feel her body, close beside his, grow tense as they walked in, she didn’t falter, standing beside him while he got his key and following him to the elevator, his hand now clenched in hers.
‘Hey,’ he said softly, using his forefinger to tilt her head to his as the elevator rose, ‘we don’t have to do this, you know.’
The ping told them they’d arrived, and he put his arm around her shoulders and steered her down the hall to his door.
But once inside he held her lightly in the circle of his arms, face to face.
‘I like you, Kate, and I’m attracted to you, and I’d like to get to know you better—both in bed and out. It’s not just about the sex so if you’re not comfortable with it just tell me.’
He dropped a light kiss on her lips and waited.
‘I suppos—’ she began. ‘I don’t—’
She hesitated again. ‘Oh, damn it all!’ she finally said. ‘Just kiss me, Angus. I don’t want to analyse it all.’
He did as he was told and kissed her, and she kissed him back, which led eventually to a frantic shedding of clothes before they fell on the bed, wanting each other but prolonging it, learning each other’s shape and textures, teasing, heightening the pleasure until neither of them could wait any longer.
* * *
Kate must have dozed and she woke in Angus’s arms, filled with a peace and contentment she hadn’t felt for a long time.
Would she wake him if she moved?
Was not waking him enough of an excuse to stay?
She smiled to herself and ran her free hand along the arm that held her, up to his shoulder, warm, and hard with muscle.
Sneaked a finger further along to touch his cheek, his straight nose, his close-cut hair.
Would the ba—?
She pushed the thought away, far away, back down into the bottom of her heart.
She was with Angus here and now and the past would stay the past...
And she had to leave—had to get home, grab a couple of hours’ proper sleep and get to work.
Reluctantly she eased her way out of the warm comfort of his arm, away from the treacherously tempting body that had filled her with such delight.
He slept on. An army thing, she imagined, grabbing sleep when it was available because who knew when they’d need to not only be awake but aware with every sense of the enemy around them.
She scrabbled around the room, finding her hastily shed clothes and pulling them on, raking her fingers t
hrough her hair, aware that walking out of the hotel at two in the morning was going to be highly embarrassing.
But well worth it, she decided as she crossed the road to her apartment block and crept silently into her own bed where she could close her eyes and remember—relive the sensations—as she fell asleep.
But when the alarm woke her, what seemed only minutes later, she tucked all the memories and sensations away in a new box in her mind—the ‘for now’ box—and concentrated on what might lie ahead of her when she reached the hospital.
She’d barely shut her handbag away in her locker when her pager summoned her back to the ED. One of the young doctors on duty apologised as he explained.
‘She’s not entirely sober and she fell through a glass coffee table. Eight-inch gash on her upper right arm and other minor injuries. We’ve flushed the arm wound. Apparently, the table broke cleanly into three pieces, rather than shattering.’
He led the way into the suture room where a large woman in tight jeans and a red bra was sitting on an examination couch, crying quietly. A nurse was holding a pad to the injured arm, and the local anaesthetic and sutures Kate would need were laid out on a tray at the side of the room.
‘So silly,’ the woman said to her new audience. ‘I was fighting with my boyfriend—just yelling, not pushing and shoving kind of fighting, and he made me so mad I stormed across the room and, bang, there I was with the table broken all around me.’
She paused, peering over her shoulder to watch Kate take the dressing from her arm.
‘Now he’s going to be really angry because he loved that table. He didn’t even bring me to the hospital, just phoned for an ambulance and it took for ever and now I’m going to have a great ugly scar down my arm—’
‘We’ll try to make sure it isn’t a great ugly scar,’ Kate said quietly, pleased to see the wound, though deep in parts, hadn’t damaged any major blood vessels.
Her brain was racing. She understood why the staff here had called her, rather than send the woman up to Theatre. According to the chart, she’d eaten a full dinner at about ten the previous night and been drinking wine and nibbling on cheese and biscuits until shortly before she’d fallen, so she couldn’t have a full anaesthetic.
Healed by Her Army Doc Page 6