by Kim Lawrence
CHAPTER THREE
‘DON’T touch her,’ She heard an authoritative voice grate.
To Hope, this sounded like excellent advice. The pain seemed to be everywhere, but the moment she tried to move it had been obvious the worst damage had been done to her left leg.
‘We thought we ought to give her the kiss of life.’
‘Or put her in the recovery position,’ another voice added.
‘For God’s sake, man, she’s breathing. She’s just fainted, and from the angle of that leg it’s just as well.’ The brusque reply was much closer this time. ‘Where’s that ambulance?’
‘I don’t faint.’ She felt impelled to protest this point.
‘She’s awake; she said something.’
‘What is it, Hope?’ The touch on her forehead was firm but gentle, and she could smell Alex’s distinctive cologne mingled with the warm, musky scent of his body.
‘I didn’t faint.’ She forced her eyes open and found his face very close.
‘That’s too bad. I expect it’s hurting like hell.’
‘My leg?’
‘It looks broken,’ he told her matter-of-factly. ‘Where else does it hurt?’
‘Everywhere.’ Weak tears started to seep from her eyes and she felt ashamed. ‘I’m meant to be modelling swimwear in the Maldives next month.’ A spurt of hysterical laughter followed this admission.
‘The ambulance won’t be long. Just hold on.’ She sensed rather than saw him move away. Agitation made her move restlessly. ‘Don’t try to move, Hope.’
‘Promise you won’t go away,’ she whispered fiercely. Her eyes were glittering feverishly as she caught his hand in a surprisingly strong grip.
A flicker of something close to shock crossed Alex’s face. He froze, and his eyes dwelt momentarily on her tightly clenched fingers before moving to her face. ‘I promise.’ Hope gave a sigh and relaxed.
When the paramedics arrived she was forced to relinquish her hold on Alex’s arm. The loss of contact made her come close to losing her tenuous control.
‘She needs something for the pain,’ she heard him say harshly.
‘Don’t worry, sir. We won’t move her until that’s sorted.’
Too right you won’t, mate, Hope thought, trying to bring the bewildering scene into focus. This being brave business was not all it was cracked up to be. She made sudden contact with a pair of familiar grey eyes. Something in the calmness of his gaze must have transmitted itself to her, because it was suddenly a lot easier to follow the paramedic’s instructions to grip the mask and breathe in the gas and air mixture. This almost instantaneously took the edge off the pain. It didn’t disappear, but it was easier to cope with.
Someone stuck an injection in her thigh before her leg was cocooned in a splint and she was strapped to a stretcher.
‘Are you coming with us, sir?’
Hope pulled the mask off her face. ‘You don’t have to.’ Alex bent his head closer to catch her words and she repeated herself.
‘I’ll come.’ Hope closed her eyes and gave a small, satisfied smile. Why she should feel safer knowing he was within grabbing distance was a mystery she would unravel at a later date.
‘How are you feeling?’ Alex raised his voice against the noise of the siren. Dear God, man, he thought with savage impatience, why not simply talk about the weather? That would be almost as inane! He functioned well in a crisis, but once command of the situation had been taken out of his hands he felt frustratingly impotent.
‘Drunk,’ came back the surprising reply.
Alex looked questioningly to the paramedic. ‘It’s the drugs and the gas and air. It affects some people that way.’
‘Do you know something?’
‘What, Hope?’
‘You’ve got the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen,’ she confided in a slurred tone.
‘That’s very kind of you to say so.’
‘I wanted to say so. Something else I wanted to tell you, Alex—’ she began.
Alex turned and the paramedic swiftly smothered the smirk on his face. ‘I think we might discuss this later on, Hope.’
‘I’ve forgotten what it was anyway.’
‘Well, aren’t you a lucky girl?’
Was she meant to reply to that one? Hope wondered. Wearing a white coat seemed to endow its owner with an endless supply of platitudes.
‘We’ll whip you up to Theatre shortly, and realign that tibia, and you’ll be as good as new in next to no time. The ribs will be sore for a while, but they’re only cracked. You’re really very…’
‘If you tell me one more time how lucky I am, Adam, so help me I’ll realign your nose,’ she said wearily, but with sincerity.
Her brother-in-law cast a dampening glare at his tittering minions. ‘Someone who throws herself into pits and doesn’t break her neck has to expect clichés, Hope.’
Her grin was a shadow of its former self. ‘Has anyone told Mum and Dad yet?’ she asked fretfully.
‘Alex insisted on doing that personally. He thought it would give them less anxiety than a phone call.’
‘I see.’ So that was where he’d gone. Since she’d been placed in the care of her brother-in-law she hadn’t seen him. She did have an embarrassing recollection of clinging tenaciously to his hand, but details were rather hazy. ‘What’s that she’s got?’ she asked suspiciously as a nurse materialised at the bedside.
‘A pre-med, Hope, to calm you down.’
‘I am calm. Any more calm and I’d—’
‘Why don’t you shut up, Hope, and let us do our job? If you’d prefer another doctor you’re entitled…’
‘We’ve been through all that, Adam, and I’m quite happy with you so long as your precious ethics don’t get in the way of treating a family member.’
‘Oh, my ethics can take the strain. It’s the nursing staff I’m worried about.’
Hope was still grumbling quietly to herself when she drifted once more into a drug-induced slumber.
Three days later she was packing up her belongings—or at least giving instructions whilst her mother did so for her.
‘Lovely flowers, dear,’ her mother observed, fondly regarding the large bouquet of yellow roses arranged in a tall vase.
‘Send them to the children’s ward,’ Hope put in quickly.
‘Quite sure?’
Hope smiled grimly. Her mother wasn’t going to find a card no matter how hard she looked, because she had removed it—ripped it up and thrown it away with the other rubbish. There had been just one word on the card; Alex, written in a bold, strong hand.
She’d woken up the previous afternoon to find him standing there beside her bed, holding the roses. It must have been raining outside because his hair had been wetly slicked back, curling slightly over the collar of his leather jacket. A film of moisture had covered the faintly tanned olive-toned skin of his face, enhancing the air of healthy vitality he exuded.
Her eyes had skimmed over the sharp planes of his face, touched the firm lines of his sexy mouth before coming to rest on his eyes—eyes that followed the slanting line of his dark eyebrows, eyes that were silver-flecked grey and, most significantly, eyes that sent an electrical surge spiralling through her body. She’d felt stunned; she hadn’t dreamed this feeling, it had really happened. She’d felt restless, weak and excited all at the same time.
‘Thank you. They look beautiful,’ she’d said shyly.
Shyness wasn’t an emotion Hope was accustomed to and it made her feel awkward. His keen eyes were missing no details of her ravaged face. ‘It looks worse than it is.’ She spoke self-consciously.
Though, spectacular and painful, the bruising which covered most of the left side of her body would leave no lasting damage. She wasn’t vain, but she wanted him to see her at her best, which in all modesty she knew was a pretty good best. Instead she looked like something out of a horror film. Sod’s law! she thought fatalistically.
‘I wouldn’t have thought it was in
your best interests to admit that.’
Confusion settled on her face. Her brain still felt a bit like cotton wool. Had she missed a complete segment of conversation here? What did he mean? Or was he implying she ought to enjoy being a patient? If that was so she could swiftly disillusion him on that score!
‘Don’t worry.’ He forestalled her reply. ‘I didn’t come here to discuss that.’
‘Discuss—?’
He silenced her with an imperative hand. ‘I understand your position completely.’
I wish I did! Hope’s confusion deepened; this grave comment didn’t have the ring of sympathetic empathy to it.
‘I wanted to see for myself how you are. There are no ulterior motives, Hope. I hope you understand that.’
Hope managed to keep her expression neutral, but it took a phenomenal effort. The minute she’d opened her eyes and seen him standing there she’d known—and it seemed he did too. The hazy dream-like recollections of the time immediately following the accident probably told only part of the story. God knows what I did, she thought, humiliation washing over her. God knows what I said.
‘I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.’
Hope cleared her throat, which still felt a little raw after the anaesthetic. ‘I appreciate that,’ she said. His clinical regard sharpened, grew less impersonal as he absorbed the husky catch in her voice. Hope didn’t flinch from his regard and he was the first to look away. She was glad. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, she decided rebelliously. Falling in love was no crime, even when the recipient of those feelings was as reluctant as Alex obviously was.
Privately she thought there was a big difference between blunt and brutal. What does he think? she wondered. That I’m going to fling myself at him and declare my undying passion? It hurt to know he wasn’t prepared to risk it.
He hadn’t even said goodbye… The sound of her mother’s voice pulled her out of her gloomy reverie.
‘I’ll take them along to the nurses’ station, shall I?’ Beth Lacey repeated, with an expression of regret.
Hope wasn’t left alone long before her brother-in-law put his head around the door; the rest of his lean body swiftly followed suit.
‘All set, then?’
‘Thankfully, yes.’
‘You’re a terrible patient.’
‘Says you,’ she replied disrespectfully.
‘Seen Alex lately?’
Hope stiffened at this seemingly casual question. ‘Why should I have seen Alex?’
Adam flicked her a curious but not unkind look. ‘You were screaming at the top of your lungs for him when you came out of the anaesthetic.’
‘There are a lot of Alexes in the world.’ Is there no escape from the man? I can’t even be unconscious in peace!
‘Thousands.’
‘If you mention this to anyone I’ll…’ People did things that were totally out of character when under the influence—bizarre things. Things that had no significance. Her mental protestations offered little comfort.
‘Don’t worry, it’s covered by patient confidentiality.’ Adam gave his stethoscope a casual twirl.
‘By anyone I especially mean Anna.’
Adam grinned, but didn’t respond to this challenge. ‘Duty calls,’ he said, moving purposefully towards the door. ‘Good man, Alex Matheson. I like him.’
If I wasn’t stuck in this damned thing, she thought, banging the sides of her wheelchair, I wouldn’t let him get away with that. Damn that man, she fumed, and it wasn’t Adam she was referring to.
‘We’ll postpone the trip.’
Hope wheeled around awkwardly on the crutches. ‘Don’t you dare!’ Her parents had been planning their world cruise for over a year now, and they’d been talking about it for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t bear being the cause of them missing their dream holiday. ‘I’m quite capable of coping.’
‘I’d only worry about you, dear. If Anna didn’t have her hands full with the babies you could go there…’
‘I don’t need anyone to look after me. I’ve only got a plaster on my leg, Mum.’ It was frustrating to know she was fighting a losing battle. Once her mother made up her mind there was no unmaking it. She silently cursed overdeveloped maternal instincts.
‘There’s the door,’ Beth said, levering herself up from her armchair at the sound of a strident peal on the doorbell. It occurred to Hope, not for the first time in the past two weeks, that for once her mother was looking her age—she needed this holiday; she worked far too hard.
‘I’ll get it,’ Hope responded, gritting her teeth in a determined fashion as she did a neat three-point turn to get through the doorway. She balanced on one leg to open the front door before clutching once more at her crutches. ‘It’s you.’ She immediately flushed under the ironic stare she received in return. Of all the stupid things to say!
‘You’re looking well.’ The purple bruises that had decorated one side of her face, and other areas not on public display, had faded to pale yellow patches in the two weeks since the accident. His eyes narrowed slightly as he examined the visible evidence of her fall.
His deep voice did the most insane things to her metabolism. ‘I’m fine, just fine. Won’t you come in?’ She’d forgotten just how intimidating his physical presence could be. Her eyes ran furtively over the strong, muscular lines of his shoulders and she cleared her throat noisily. ‘Please come in. Nice weather, lovely day…’ She managed to stop the irritating flow of banalities.
‘If it’s not inconvenient.’ The only reaction he made to the parrot-like style of her conversation was a slight inclination of one darkly defined eyebrow.
Nice weather, lovely day—inwardly she groaned as she felt the rivulets of sweat trickle down her spine. It had only stopped snowing half an hour ago, and the driving conditions were appalling. What’s wrong with me? Pull yourself together, girl!
‘I know you don’t want to see me.’ His dark, sombre face was impossible to read.
‘I don’t?’ She was treading warily. There was transference if ever she’d heard it, she thought sourly. It must be something urgent to make him voluntarily seek her out. He was probably going to warn her not to stalk him!
‘But my lawyer couldn’t contact your agent today, and there are a few details that need to be sorted out without delay…’
She was totally at sea. ‘Jonathan?’
‘Jonathan Harkness is your agent, isn’t he?’ Impatience was evident in his tone.
‘Well, I’ve only got one.’ And sometimes he was more trouble than he was worth. Jonathan’s agenda for her career and her own could diverge pretty dramatically at times.
‘I know you don’t want to get involved personally, but—’
‘Can we just stop there?’ she interrupted. ‘It’s not very comfortable for me standing for too long.’ She glanced pointedly at her plaster-encased leg. ‘Come along to the sitting room.’
‘Alex, how lovely to see you. I’ll go and get some tea, shall I?’ Beth said to nobody in particular before she disappeared.
Subtle as a sledgehammer, thought Hope, left with a strained smile on her face. ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me what’s brought you here.’ Since it wasn’t the charm of my personality, she added silently. She avoided the armchair—once she got down there it was difficult to get back up. Instead she sat in a oak ladder-backed chair with a sagging rush seat.
‘The fact that I’m perfectly ready to accept responsibility was meant to facilitate a speedy conclusion to this affair. However, your legal people appear to take that as a sign of weakness.’ He began to pace the room. He moved softly for a big man. His anger was evident in the rigidity of his straight spine. ‘The demands they’re making now are absurd by anyone’s reckoning. This last fax I got…’ he began, his voice like subdued thunder.
He abruptly pulled a rumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and crushed it in one strong hand, before flinging it savagely onto the floor. ‘You’ve picked on the wron
g man if you want a fight, Hope. I won’t be manipulated. I’ll accept responsibility, but I won’t lie down for anyone to walk over me.’
‘Alex,’ she said quietly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ There was no mistaking the menace he was emanating, but the cause was a total mystery to her. Anger began to supplant her confusion. She’d done nothing to deserve being on the receiving end of his threats.
‘Do you mean to tell me you didn’t tell Harkness not to accept my offer?’ He regarded her with scornful disbelief.
‘I don’t even know why you should know Jonathan,’ she said firmly. ‘If you’re going to look at me as though I’m something nasty and slimy underfoot, I’d at least like to know what I’m meant to have done!’
His eyes searched her face. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ he said slowly. ‘You really don’t know what I’m talking about.’ He shook his head in disbelief and sank into an armchair. He was a big man and he looked to be firmly wedged in the floral-patterned chair.
‘You might need a crane to get you out of there.’ From out of the blue her devilish sense of humour re-surfaced.
The smile slipped slowly from her face as her eyes dwelt on the muscled contours of his thighs, moulded by the denim of his black jeans. How would it feel to touch…? The steamy graphic flow of speculation was debilitating. Her body felt as if it had been abruptly isolated from her energy supply. If she hadn’t been sitting she’d have fallen.
Good God, this had to stop! She’d always thought people who acted crazy when they fell in love were slightly pitiful. ‘If the man’s a monster or he doesn’t love you go look for someone else,’ she’d told friends on numerous occasions—it had all seemed so simple then. What she hadn’t understood then was that love wasn’t pliable at all; it was the poor sucker who’d succumbed that did all the bending.
‘Harkness approached me the day after the accident—’
‘You still don’t believe that I know nothing about it, do you?’ she interrupted, bristling with antagonism. The resignation in his voice made it clear to her he was going through the motions; he couldn’t actually bring himself to believe she was as ignorant as she claimed.