by Sarah Morgan
And not just by exposing her to gossip.
He lifted his glass again, remembering the shyness and the desperate excitement in her eyes in the last seconds before he’d given in to impulse and kissed her. She’d wanted him, badly. He should have been flattered but instead he felt…disgusted with himself. Disgusted with himself for not walking away. He had no idea how much sexual experience she’d had, but he was willing to bet that her lifestyle didn’t encompass meaningless affairs, and that was all he could offer her.
He stared at the bunch of locals gathered around the table, laughing and joking at his expense.
He should be grateful to them.
If it weren’t for them he’d now be suffering from regret instead of sexual frustration. And Flora…Flora would have assured him in that polite voice of hers that everything was fine, but deep down she’d have been horrified at herself for indulging in a moment of madness with a delinquent like him.
Or worse—she’d be looking at him with those huge, brown eyes of hers, wanting things from him that he’d never, ever be able to deliver.
Conner drained his glass, knowing that probably for the first time in his life he’d done the right thing.
With a humourless laugh he studied the empty glass in his hand, sure of one thing. If doing the right thing felt this bad, he wasn’t going to make a habit of it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘HE SAVED the child, can you believe that? Anyway, I always knew there was good in him. It’s not surprising he went off the rails with everything that he had to contend with at home.’ Angela Parker watched as Flora tightened the bandage. ‘I mean, his mother left when he was only ten years old. And his father was a drunk. A violent drunk, some say. Shocking, really shocking. It’s no wonder he was wild. The poor boy.’
‘Yes, Mrs Parker. I mean, no.’ Flora was barely listening. Her mind was on other things. Although part of her was delighted and relieved that the entire island was now treating Conner as a hero, another part of her felt as though something inside her had been ripped out.
It was just because she was tired, she told herself. But she knew that wasn’t true. It had nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with the kiss she’d shared with Conner.
The kiss that had been interrupted.
The kiss that she’d totally messed up.
She kept reliving that moment and wishing she’d done things differently. She wished she’d yelled out, It’s me, Flora Harris, Jim. Yes, I’m kissing Conner so could you just all go away and let us get on with it? She wished she hadn’t been embarrassed. She wished she’d held onto the moment instead of letting it slip from her fingers. She wished…
She wished Conner felt something for her.
But he didn’t.
In fact, not only had he not mentioned it, he hadn’t even talked to her. Several days had passed and he’d been so busy fielding patients eager to consult him about his various problems that she’d barely seen him in the distance, let alone put herself in the position where a conversation might be possible.
At first she’d managed to convince herself that he was just very busy. She’d lingered in the surgery long after the patients had left, hoping that he’d seek her out, and she’d sat in her empty cottage at night, waiting for a knock on the door or the ring of the phone.
She’d thought up a million reasons for the fact that he hadn’t come near her, but in the end she’d run out of reasons. And still he hadn’t disturbed her solitude.
And she couldn’t blame him for that, could she? Not after she’d made it perfectly clear that she’d be embarrassed to be caught with him. It was hardly surprising that he was now avoiding her and she wished she’d done everything differently.
She had no backbone.
She was pathetic.
‘Well?’ Angela peered down at her. ‘You’ve been staring at my leg for ages, dear. Is something wrong?’
‘No, nothing,’ Flora said quickly, and Angela nodded.
‘If you’re worried, perhaps I should make an appointment with Conner.’
Remembering how fast Angela had run from Conner just a couple of weeks ago, Flora gave a faint smile. That was the other reason she was finding it hard to put him out of her head. Everywhere she went, people were talking about Conner. And he treated their attention with as much careless indifference as he’d treated their disregard.
‘Your leg is looking much better, Mrs Parker. The inflammation has settled and I think it’s healing now. Keep up the good work.’
And she had to pull herself together and accept the person she was. She just wasn’t someone who could cavort half-naked in the moonlight with the island bad boy. She cared too much what people thought.
And that was why a relationship between her and Conner would never work.
She cared. And Conner didn’t give a damn. The more he shocked people, the happier he was.
Even that night on the beach had probably just been a game to him, seeing if his seduction skills were good enough to persuade boring old Flora to kiss him.
He wasn’t interested in anything more, and she couldn’t blame him for that.
She was boring Flora, wasn’t she? The type of girl who kept her knickers on even when she swam in the sea at night.
Not the sort of girl who would hold Conner MacNeil’s attention for more than two minutes.
Trying to block out Angela’s endless chatter, Flora finished the dressing, washed her hands, completed her notes and saw the woman to the door.
Then she went across and tapped on Logan’s door. ‘How’s Evanna?’
‘Still pregnant. No change. She’s going to the mainland for a check at the end of the week.’
‘And presumably you can go with her now, given that the entire population of Glenmore thinks that Conner walks on water.’
‘I know. It’s brilliant. Overnight my life has changed.’ He smiled at her. ‘I actually managed to have breakfast with my wife and daughter this morning. Conner should be a hero more often. I could resign and grow my own vegetables.’
‘I’m so pleased it’s all worked out. His surgery is so full now Janet’s having to turn people away.’
‘Conner’s a good doctor.’
‘Yes.’ She thought of him with Lily. His sure touch. His skill. His incredible focus when the entire world around him had been panicking.
And then she thought of his kiss. Equally sure and skilled. Did he do everything well?
She gave a little shiver and Logan glanced at her.
‘Are you all right? You’re a bit pale.’
‘I’m fine. Absolutely fine.’ Just confused. Frustrated. Out of her depth. She’d never felt like this before and she didn’t know what to do about it. Her previous relationships had been boringly uncomplicated. She’d been out with two men and neither of them had caused this degree of turbulence to her insides. ‘Tell Evanna to call me if she needs anything.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Logan studied her closely. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Really, I’m fine,’ Flora lied. ‘Just a little tired.’
‘Right.’ Logan watched her. ‘If you’re sure.’
Flora returned to her consulting room and worked her way through her patients, only half listening to the steady stream of Glenmore chatter.
She’d just seen her last patient when the door opened and Conner stood there.
Flora felt her stomach flip and looked at his face, hoping to see something that suggested he felt the same way, but there was nothing. His handsome face was expressionless, his attitude brisk and professional.
‘Lily is being discharged today. You should call on her and her fussy mother—do all the touchy-feely stuff that I can’t be bothered with.’
She tried not to feel hurt or disappointed. What had she expected? ‘You could go yourself. They’d want to thank you. Jayne is so grateful, she can’t stop crying.’
‘All the more reason to stay away. The one body fluid I’m no good with is female tears.’ He gav
e a faint smile. ‘If Lily bleeds again, phone me. Otherwise it’s just emotional support and someone else can do that bit. Someone better qualified than me.’
He wasn’t comfortable with emotion.
Flora thought of the things he’d told her in the velvet darkness. She thought about the mother who had left him and the father who hadn’t cared. And she suspected that he’d been exposed to more extremes of emotion in his childhood than most people experienced in a lifetime.
Was that why he backed away from it now?
Was that why he was backing away from her?
‘I’ll call on her.’
‘Good.’ His eyes held hers for a moment—lingered—then his mouth tightened and he turned to leave.
But there had been something in that look that made it impossible for her to let him walk away. ‘Conner!’ Something burst free inside her and she just couldn’t help herself. ‘Wait. Can we talk?’
* * *
Conner paused, his hand on the door, a man poised for flight. ‘What about?’ But he knew what it was going to be about and he kept his tone cool and his face expressionless because he also knew what he needed to do. And it was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He stood still, hoping she’d lose courage. And perhaps she almost did because she watched him closely and then gave a confused little smile that cut through him like the blade of a knife.
Don’t say it, Flora. Don’t say it and then I won’t have to reject you.
She rubbed her hands nervously down her uniform and took a deep breath. ‘All I wanted to say was that…well, you—you really don’t have to avoid me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ He kept his answer blunt, knowing that it was the only way.
‘Why? Because you kissed me?’ She shrugged awkwardly. ‘Do you ignore every woman you kiss?’
‘No, normally I corrupt them totally before I ignore them. You escaped lightly.’
‘Is that supposed to make me feel lucky?’ The colour bloomed in her cheeks but she didn’t back off. ‘Because it doesn’t.’
Her response almost weakened him and Conner reminded himself ruthlessly that this time he was doing the right thing, not the easy thing.
He watched her for a moment, his eyes fixed on her face. Then he closed the door, slowly and deliberately, giving them privacy. ‘It should make you feel lucky. If they hadn’t turned up I would have taken you, Flora.’ His voice dangerously soft, he closed the distance between them in a single stride. Shock tactics. Perhaps shock tactics would work. ‘You would have been mine. That’s how close you came.’
She shivered with excitement. ‘Yes…’
‘And then I would have dumped you, because that’s what I do with women. And you would have cried.’
She swallowed. ‘Maybe.’
Definitely.
Unable to help himself, Conner lifted a hand to touch her but then saw the trust shining in her dark eyes and took a step backwards, letting his hand drop to his side. ‘You’re the sort of woman who deserves to wake up next to a good man.’ His hand curled into a fist. ‘That isn’t me, Flora.’
‘You’re a good man.’
‘No.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because a good man wouldn’t do what I’m about to do,’ he muttered, knowing that he’d lost the fight. He reached out a hand, yanking her against him and crushing his mouth against hers.
A kaleidoscope of colours exploded in his head and any hope of pulling away vanished as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer. He kissed her roughly but she gave back willingly and her mouth was sweet and warm under his.
And since when had sweetness had any place in his life?
He released her so suddenly that she swayed dizzily. ‘Conner—’
‘Don’t.’ With a rough jerk he disengaged himself from her arms. ‘Don’t offer yourself to me, Flora.’
‘Why not?’ Clearly sensing the tension and anger boiling inside him, she lifted a hand to his cheek, pushing aside her natural shyness. ‘It’s what I want.’
‘No, it isn’t what you want.’
She stood, looking hurt and vulnerable. ‘It is. I want you.’
The blood throbbing in his veins, Conner turned away from her, knowing that he couldn’t say what he had to say if he was looking at her. None of the things he’d ever done in his life had ever felt as hard as this and he steeled himself to do what had to be done. ‘Well, I don’t want you.’ His tone was rock steady. ‘I’m sorry if that hurts, but it’s better to be honest up front. I don’t want you, Flora. There’s no chemistry there at all.’
Her soft gasp was like a punch in the gut. ‘Conner—’
‘You kiss like a child, Flora. You don’t even turn me on.’ This time he altered his tone so that he sounded careless, even a little bored. Then he gave a dismissive shrug and strolled towards the door. ‘I suggest you find someone of your own age to practise on.’
Then he left the room, slamming the door so hard that the entire building shook.
Only when he was safely within the privacy of his consulting room did Conner finally release the emotion he’d kept firmly locked inside. He let out a string of expletives and thumped his fist against the wall. Then he sank onto his chair and stared at the door, willing himself not to walk back through it and tell her that he hadn’t meant a single word he’d just said. Because if he did that—if he sought her out and apologised—he wouldn’t be righting a wrong, he’d be making things worse.
Yes, he’d hurt her.
He’d hurt her so badly that he felt physically sick at the thought, and he knew that her gasp of pain and the shimmer of tears in her eyes would stay with him for a long time.
But he also knew that the pain would be infinitely greater if he took their relationship any further.
His eyes slid to the doorhandle and he gritted his teeth and looked away, ruthlessly ignoring the urge to go back and comfort her. Talk to her. What was there to say? He’d already said it. And better now than later. Better a small amount of private pain than public humiliation when the entire island discovered their affair.
They’d tear her apart and he wasn’t going to let that happen to her.
There was a tap on the door and he looked up with a growl of impatience, furious at having been disturbed. ‘What?’ He barked the word and the door opened slowly and a woman peeped nervously into the room.
‘Janet said to come straight through.’
‘What for?’
She blinked. ‘Surgery? I have an appointment with you.’
Conner stared at her blankly and then realised that kissing Flora had actually driven everything out of his head. Everything, including the fact that he was supposed to be seeing patients.
‘Of course. Sorry.’ He managed something approximating a smile. ‘Come in.’ And then he recognised her. Agatha Patterson, the elderly lady who lived in the converted lifeboat cottage on the beach. ‘I expect you’ve come to exact your revenge. I seem to remember raiding your flower-beds one night.’
‘You gave them to that girl—the pretty blonde one. I still remember how pleased she was.’
Conner gave a faint smile. ‘That was at least sixteen years ago so I’m guessing you’re not here because you’re worried about your memory. Am I supposed to apologise for helping myself to your flowers?’
‘Goodness, I don’t want an apology! I should be the one thanking you.’ Agatha closed the door and walked stiffly into the room. ‘You livened up my life. You were always down on the beach below my property. I liked watching you.’
Remembering some of the things he’d done on the beach below her house, Conner inhaled sharply. ‘How much could you see?’
‘Well, my eyes were better in those days, of course.’ She chuckled and walked slowly towards the chair, her body bent in the shape of a question mark. She was a grey-haired lady with a jolly smile and a twinkle in her eye that hinted at a lively past. ‘I was always amazed by how successful you were. Quit
e the lad, Conner MacNeil.’
Conner gave a reluctant laugh. ‘All right, that’s probably enough of that conversation. Did you want to ask me something or are you just here to threaten me with my wicked past?’
‘Oh, no, nothing like that. I heard what you did for little Lily, by the way. I think you’re amazing.’
‘Thanks.’ So amazing that he’d left a woman crying in the room opposite. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Patterson?’
‘Well, funnily enough, it’s my eyes I’ve come about. They’re incredibly sore.’
‘Too much watching people on the beach,’ Conner said in a wry tone, and she gave a delighted smile.
‘There’s been hardly any action since you left. These days everyone is too worried about being arrested. Not that you ever worried about that sort of thing. Anyway, I wouldn’t normally bother you with anything so pathetically trivial, but my eyes are so sore that the pain is reducing the time I can spend on the internet.’
Conner stared at her. ‘The internet?’
‘And if you’re thinking of telling me to reduce the time I spend on the computer, you needn’t waste your breath. I’m careful never to do more than eight hours a day.’
Conner glanced at his own computer screen, searching for the information he wanted. ‘You’re…eighty-six, Mrs Patterson. Is that right?’
‘Eighty-seven next week.’
‘And you’re spending…’ he cleared his throat, intrigued by his patient ‘…how long on the internet?’
‘No more than eight hours a day.’ She curled her fingers around the strap of her bag. ‘Given the chance, I’d spent longer, but with my eyes the way they are…’
Conner gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘I have to ask this—just what are you doing on the internet, Mrs Patterson?’
‘Everything,’ she said simply. ‘I mean, for an old lady on her own like me, it’s a doorway to a whole new exciting life. Last week I spent a morning looking around a new exhibition in a fancy gallery in London, just by clicking my mouse, then I spent an afternoon gazing at a beach in Australia—amazing webcam, by the way, you should try it. Last month I spent an entire week in Florence—I visited somewhere new every day. But it’s not just travel and art, it’s food, conversation. I just love chat rooms.’ She leaned forward and winked at him. ‘I bet you didn’t know there was a chat room for the over-eighties.’