by Lola Keeley
“I was simply advising.” Veronica pauses to order the risotto.
Edie orders the steak with a particular kind of relish that would be unnerving in someone less lively.
“Ms Taylor was the one looking for a house,” Veronica continues. “Hasn’t had a chance to put down roots since coming out of the army.”
“Well, make sure you don’t get roped into looking every weekend. The market’s a real bastard right now.”
“When is it not?” Veronica’s just glad she doesn’t have to up sticks. “Besides, she’s done and dusted already. Putting an offer in on the second place she saw. And if I know anything about that woman, she’ll get it.”
“Sounds like just your cup of tea, darling.” Edie can’t resist, but her eyes are kind even as she smirks. She’s being the biggest advocate of Veronica finding love again. “But last I heard, wasn’t she complicit in kidnapping Daniel or something?”
“A misunderstanding. One you’ll be stunned to hear I actually apologised for.” Veronica waves it away. The restaurant is pleasantly noisy, one of those high-ceilinged places that used to be a fire station or something. The table linens are spotless and the staff have been friendly, if a little harassed by the lunchtime rush. “Although we did take rather a shine to her new place, if you must know.”
“How so?” Edie hunches her shoulders in anticipation, ready to pounce on concrete gossip.
“Oh, making out like teenagers in the bedroom, that sort of thing. Cut short by an incident call, though.”
“I knew it!” Edie slaps her hand against the table. “And? Come on, getting details from you is like getting blood from a stone, Vee. No way you start fessing up over just a cheeky snog.”
“We may have gone out on Sunday. Some film with that blonde woman you’re a bit gay for, you know the one.”
“That’s no way to talk about my one-day lover, two-time-Oscar-winner Cate Blanchett.” Edie’s tone is almost scolding. “But continue. Necking in the back row, were we?”
“Not quite, but between that and a nice dinner, we did get a little bit of action.”
“So why are you here having lunch with me instead of banging her in the locker rooms? Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t considered it.”
“I have.” Veronica blurts it out without meaning to. She’s usually so good at keeping her counsel, but this time it’s bubbling up inside her. It’s so nice to be excited, to be happy enough to want to share the news. Beats complaining about the surgical schedule and school fees, that’s for damn sure. “Only as part of Travers’ grand scheme, I suspect, she’s been shipped off to a Paediatric Trauma conference up north. Which means someone should probably have her back here.”
“Have you told her everything you’ve found out?”
“A lot of it, so far. More tonight I expect. We text a lot, you know how it is.”
“Not really.” Edie covers the sigh a fraction too late. “Oh, no trouble in paradise. It’s just easy to miss that early spell where you want to hear every thought from each other. There’s a lot less talk about who’s going to pick up sweet potatoes to puree for the littlest one, that’s all.”
They sit in companionable silence for a couple of minutes until the food arrives. The scent of saffron hits Veronica and soothes her in an unexpected way. Comfort food, then.
“You know,” Veronica says, after the first delicious forkful, “if I were some big romantic, I’d rush up there to tell her everything else in person, and formulate a battle plan.”
“Why don’t you?” Edie tears her steak apart with the serrated knife. “It can’t be pleasant up there alone, thinking the Ides of March are coming as soon as you get back.”
“Well, I do have a job. And a son.”
“Chuck a sickie. For, what? The first time in your life?”
“Edie—”
“Vee, the idea clearly appeals to you. I’m sure Daniel is with Angela anyway, and if he’s not she’ll take him to do you a favour. You’ve said for years now that you weren’t going to throw yourself at any passing woman. Tell me, is this Cassie just any passing woman?”
It’s the very question Veronica has been trying to avoid, but it’s bearing down on her now like an express train. She considers, takes a breath, and shakes her head.
“Well, then.” That’s all the conclusion Edie needs, apparently. “Get that rice down you. And before we leave this table, book the day off and start thinking about what sexy underwear you’re packing.”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, you’re not just going up there to talk strategy, and you know it.”
“Have I ever mentioned what a terrible influence you are?” Veronica is hiding behind the question, taking a sip of her unsatisfying white wine. “Just eat your lunch and we’ll see.”
But her mind is already racing through train tickets and the brand-new lingerie bought months ago and stuffed in the back of a drawer.
It might just be time to spring a surprise.
Chapter 26
The last morning of the conference is something of a damp squib, and Cassie has been warned all week that it would be. All the impressive speakers—which somehow include her—did their song and dance earlier in the programme. With the huge party last night, these past few hours are mostly comparing hangovers and chasing down contact details for future collaborators.
She’s still pleased at the amount of response and enthusiasm her presentation generated. Talking trauma with people who deal with it every day, some from military backgrounds like her own, or coming from war-torn countries, has been invigorating.
Except, all the while, Cassie’s starting to worry that this job that suits her so well is going to be snatched away. They can’t be sure yet if the books are being cooked, or if Travers is trying to run Trauma into the ground, but either way Cassie seems to be in the crosshairs.
Her first instinct is to march right back in there and confront him on Monday. Call him out, hope for a straight answer, and take it right to whichever boss or committee sorts it all out. Only, if it were that simple he’d have been more discreet about it. There are so many things Cassie can’t prove: the emails sent from her account, her signature showing up on memos and circulars she’d swear she’s never seen.
At least Veronica is on her side. As much as the dating and the kissing and everything else, Cassie feels glad in a bone-deep sort of way that someone has her back. Not knowing most of the players makes it hard to strategize. That doesn’t seem to be a problem for Veronica. Every call and text update so far has explained another bit of information unearthed, more hospital gossip mined. It’s impressive to see her in action, even from far away. Clearly Veronica knows the hospital the way Cassie knew her way around warzones, all the flashpoints and valuable intel mapped out for reference. It’s paying off now as all the whispers and rumours about Travers are being offered up, painting a picture of a man they’re right not to trust.
Cassie has the hotel room for another night and an open return ticket. A part of her is tempted to visit her old haunts, but something like that would be nicer to do with company. Something she might like to share with Veronica one day, for example.
Which is rather putting the cart before the horse. Outside of this brewing Travers problem, they haven’t spoken much, and last night brought no contact at all. Veronica’s last text had mentioned a lunch with Dr Hyatt-Wickham, and then radio silence.
And perhaps Cassie had let herself enjoy a few beers too many. Not to mention the shots those nurses from Newcastle had roped her into. There had been a tall dark-haired girl giving Cassie the eye, as much as her rusty little gaydar could be sure of, anyway, but the lack of interest on Cassie’s part had been absolute.
She’s always been this way with women. Once one captures her attention, that person becomes the sole focus of Cassie’s restless attraction and sexual energy. Other options pale
in comparison, even when she’s fully aware of them. Now Veronica is the tune running through Cassie’s head night and day, while everyone else is a static radio with the sound down low.
Just as she’s despairing into her plate of avocado toast, Cassie’s phone lights up.
Did you say you were staying at the Marriott?
It’s a random question coming from Veronica, who’s probably one short surgery and two meetings into her morning already, but Cassie’s fingers itch to answer. Still, she makes herself take a steadying sip of orange juice before picking up the phone.
Yes, just having breakfast. Conference is all over but the handshakes.
The interminable three dots torment Cassie for a long minute. Should she have asked about Travers? Veronica might only be getting in touch with an update.
Gone down to the restaurant when you could have had breakfast in bed? I bet you’ve been to the gym, too.
Cassie is quick to correct her.
I haven’t actually.
She sets her phone back down and drains her coffee cup. Only to almost spit the entire mouthful across the table when a voice says right at her ear. “Oh please, the post-exercise glow is blinding.”
“Veronica?” Cassie spins around in her chair, not quite believing her ears. “I… You…”
“There’s that Cassie Taylor eloquence that St Soph’s has been missing so much.”
Cassie stands, because that’s how you should greet a lady. Or something. “Are you… Did you eat?”
“Yes, thank you. First-class tickets come with a bacon roll and all the coffee a girl can drink. Nice digs.”
Veronica sits without having to be invited, because even here and unexpected, she’s at ease in her own skin. Cassie envies that more than she’s comfortable with.
“Did we… I mean, what are you doing here? And so early? It’s barely ten.”
“Time enough to go to the gym and lie about it. I got an early train. Simple, really.”
“No, I went for a run, actually. Down by the Albert Docks.”
“Sounds touristy.”
“It’s quite lovely, in fact.”
“Well, let’s just be glad you didn’t fall in,” Veronica says. “Avocado? Really?”
“What’s wrong with avocado?” Cassie demands. It’s been bloody everywhere since she came back, and after taking the plunge and trying it, she’s become rather fond of the creamy green fruit.
“Just a bit…you know. Anyway, here I am.” Veronica slides her hand over the crisp white tablecloth to wrap her fingers around Cassie’s.
“Yes. But I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Neither did I. You can blame Edie for putting the idea in my head. There I was telling her about your work predicament, and somehow we got to talking about the whole dating situation.”
Cassie waves down the waiter and orders another flat white. As stalling tactics go it’s not a great one. Veronica declines to add anything. All business.
“So it’s a situation?” Cassie has to ask.
“Yes. Given that someone’s trying to push you out of the place where we both work. Which might change your house-buying plans. Or staying-in-London plans. All these potential things that might change dating from a possibility to… Well. Not being one, I suppose.”
Cassie swallows hard around a sudden lump in her throat. It’s one thing to have been panicking about these things on a loop inside her head. It’s quite another to hear someone listing all the horrid events out loud.
“Aside from my professional and personal ruin, then”—Cassie hopes she isn’t barking up the wrong tree—“are you saying that an outcome where dating isn’t a possibility would be…”
“Quite unacceptable. Now, while we’re asking important questions of one another… Are you staying here tonight? Or do I need to go and book a room?”
“I… Yes. One more night.”
“Excellent.”
“Is it?” Cassie’s voice is almost a squeak. “Only I thought we were going with more of a ‘slow and steady wins the race’ kind of approach?”
Veronica leans across the short distance between them and kisses Cassie with tender, insistent lips, knocking the breath from her in an instant. “That was one option. But tell me, Major, with everything that’s going on, do you really want to put this off? I had you pegged for a woman of action.”
Cassie gulps her coffee down in three quick gulps, wincing only slightly at the temperature.
“Action. Good. That I can do.” She stands up, extending a hand to Veronica. “Since my room is just upstairs…”
Veronica takes her hand almost immediately, and they’re in motion towards the lobby and its lifts without another word.
It takes considerable willpower not to kiss Veronica until they’re inside the hotel room. Cassie supposes she’s rather out and proud these days, as much as anyone ever asks about it, but she’s still wary when it comes to any kind of intimacy. There’ll forever be that little voice in her head telling her to watch out for a lurking superior officer, a disapproving guardian, or a bunch of leering guys who’ll shout out sordid things.
That’s the last thing she associates with Veronica, in her immaculate, belted creamy-coloured coat and simple striped blouse and pencil skirt beneath it. Even on the static-inducing hotel carpets she walks with perfect precision in shiny black heels, somehow leading Cassie down the corridor even though Cassie is the only one who has the room number.
It takes three slightly trembling attempts with the white plastic rectangle that’s supposed to open the door. Each mortifying whirr and little red light makes Cassie long for an actual key. Once they’re in, Cassie is glad she keeps her quarters clean out of habit, and the only sign of her having been there for days is her toothbrush sitting by the sink.
The room is comfortable enough, with a few generic splashes of decoration that substitute for a personal touch. Cassie doesn’t get to explain away the décor, though, because Veronica has her backed against the wall of the room’s little entryway, and Veronica is really, really good at kissing. Even knowing this from the weekend can’t tamp down Cassie’s excitement.
With her hands free to wander, she traces the curves of Veronica’s body, clutching and squeezing as she likes. When it makes Veronica moan faintly into the kisses, Cassie knows she’s an absolute goner. Frankly it’s been too long since she’s felt this amazing tingling feeling sweeping through each of her limbs.
“Nice room,” Veronica says, her voice barely a murmur against Cassie’s cheek. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that this isn’t happening in some tent somewhere.”
“Excuse me,” Cassie answers, trailing kisses down the side of Veronica’s neck. “But you were there when I put an offer in on an actual house.”
Cassie prides herself on giving every bit as good as she gets, even daring to be a little more aggressive than she might normally on the first time with someone new. It helps that this is their own private haven, away from prying eyes, to do with exactly as they will. Cassie’s first decision is to slip Veronica’s light coat from her shoulders and toss it vaguely in the direction of the open wardrobe.
Veronica responds by hooking her fingers through the belt loops of Cassie’s brand-new smart black trousers and pulling her even closer.
“Still, this will do for now.”
It’s hard to think of anything else to say as Veronica’s hands move to the buttons of her own blouse, undoing each one with that steady surgical precision, before dropping it gently to the carpeted floor. Her bra is black but gauzy, barely there at all in the parts between the lace trim. Cassie hears a faint whimper before even realising that it came from her.
They kick off their shoes, and they land who knows where. Cassie, eager to keep up, pulls her simple grey top up and over her head. The bra is more functional than frivolous, but she doesn’t
mind much the moment Veronica’s fingers skim over the thin fabric. Cassie realises all over again how good they look together as they stumble together towards the bed, Veronica’s darker skin contrasting beautifully against her own pale complexion.
When she’s pictured this—and God, has Cassie pictured it a lot this past week and before—she rather assumed she’d be taking charge. Women have always expected that from her, not so much asking as folding themselves into the less dominant role by default. That has been incredibly fun, perks of the title and the position and all that, but when faced with an equal like this, Cassie finds her inherent curiosity wondering what it’s going to be like if Veronica starts calling the shots. Right about the same time she finds herself on her back with Veronica lightly pinning her in place.
And Veronica has her first shot all right, seeking out the sensitive spots on Cassie’s collarbone as though provided with a map. She can’t help but react, arching into the caress of Veronica’s mouth with growing enthusiasm, feeling the wetness between her legs increase with each passing second.
“I thought you’d like that,” Veronica says, and she’s so quiet compared to the harsh way they’re breathing already, the want making Cassie’s chest tight and her head a little dizzy.
It’s not long before Veronica has Cassie’s trousers slipping down her legs, joining the other discarded clothes on the floor. Cassie makes a happy sound somewhere at the back of her throat as Veronica’s fingers massage their way back up her bare legs, especially when they encounter the more sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
“You,” Veronica says as she leans in for another quick kiss on the mouth, as though she’s missed Cassie’s lips during her brief absence and can’t resist another visit. “Are one gorgeous lady. I guess you know that. I see it in the way you walk. But I think it’s worth mentioning.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” is as much wit as Cassie can muster in return. What would the rumour mill at St Sophia’s have to say right now? If they could see their Head of Trauma, skin flushed and chest heaving with anticipation that the most capable surgeon in the hospital will keep touching her, keep kissing her? Cassie can’t remember the last time she felt this alive, and maybe it takes someone else who understands the realities of working with death to bring it out in her.