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Cassie laughed softly.
‘What?’
‘Trevor would have said there wasn’t time and gone to lunch. The patient would have had to have waited, possibly till tomorrow. Actually, no, he would have finished quicker than you because he wouldn’t have bothered about the first hip to such an extent, and the thumb he would have hardly bothered with at all!’
‘I can’t believe he gets away with it,’ Nick murmured.
‘He gets away with anything he chooses. Did you hear Richardson? “Under the weather” indeed! We’re all under the weather — difficult to be above it unless you’re in a rocket!’
Nick chuckled. ‘Lunch?’
‘Have we got time?’
He shrugged. ‘A sandwich?’
‘Done. Give me two ticks to change.’
They went down to the canteen and got a sandwich and a cup of coffee each from the snack bar, then slumped in the corner with their feet propped on each other’s chairs and munched in contented silence. Then Cassie looked up.
That’s Trevor’s old man over there — grey hair, navy suit, paunchy, balding.’
Nick eyed him steadily, then nodded. ‘Right. Thanks. I’ll remember.’
There was a coldness about him that Cassie hadn’t seen before, and she suddenly got a bad feeling about the whole business.
‘Nick? You’ll be careful, won’t you? He could wreak havoc with your career.’
Nick laughed softly. ‘That overgrown puffball? My career’s more solid than that, Cassie. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything rash. I’ve got friends in high places, too. The difference is, I don’t choose to use them. Now, about tonight.’
She blinked. ‘Tonight?’
‘Yes — tonight. How about a quiet supper in a bistro somewhere? Nothing wild — I’m still tired after the weekend. I think I’ve done a week’s work in three days.’
‘Then are you sure you want to — ?’
‘Yes — absolutely certain. I’ve missed you.’
She laughed, a little self-consciously. ‘I’ve missed you, too. Silly, isn’t it? I hardly know you — how can I miss you?’
His smile was tender and very dear. ‘I’m glad you do. What time?’
‘Seven?’
He nodded. ‘I should be finished by then. I’ve got a clinic with Miles Richardson this afternoon, to ease me in, but that should be over by six at the latest.’
‘He’s very prompt — a bit of a stuffy old boy, but he’s a dear, really, and very good. Actually you remind me of him a bit when you’re operating — you’re very alike to work with.’
‘You mean you sidle up to him like that and rub yourself against him?’
She flushed. ‘Certainly not — and I don’t do that with you, either!’
He chuckled. ‘No, of course not,’ he teased. He was practically sitting on her foot, so she lifted it slightly and kicked him ever so gently on the back of the thigh.
‘Ouch.’ He grabbed her foot, and before she could wriggle away he slipped off her shoe and tickled her mercilessly.
She shrieked, just as Mary-Jo came and dropped down into the chair beside her.
‘Having fun, children?’
He released her reluctantly, his fingers sliding over the top of her foot with a very different touch, and smiled at Mary-Jo.
‘Hi. Thanks for your help over the weekend.’
‘My pleasure. Trevor’s an idle waste of space, isn’t he? I wonder when he’ll get his comeuppance.’
Nick smiled enigmatically and stood up. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we? Seven, Cassie?’
‘Fine.’
They watched him walk away, and Cassie shook her head. ‘I have a bad feeling about him and Trevor, Mary-Jo.’
‘You do? Me, too. He’s got a hell of a temper under that placid, easygoing exterior, I fancy. Witness the way he ripped into you the first night, without any warning.’
Cassie flushed scarlet and busied herself with the dregs of her coffee. ‘I was miles away.’
‘Mmm — down his trousers.’
She flushed again, even more hotly.
‘Mary-Jo, you’re disgusting.’
‘No — just honest. Hey, I’m just jealous. You two have obviously hit it off really well. Another date tonight?’
‘Another?’
Mary-Jo shrugged and grinned. ‘He turned up in Theatre at three on Sunday morning in a DJ, for God’s sake. Of course the guy had been somewhere. His eyes were wild and he was as crabby as an ousted tom-cat — you didn’t need a degree in psychology to know where he was coming from! Anyway,’ she shrugged again, ‘I asked him.’
Cassie groaned, and Mary-Jo laughed.
‘Hey, it’s OK, kid, I was subtle.’
Cassie laughed out loud. ‘You? Subtle? That’ll be the day.’ She stirred the chilly dregs in her cup again. ‘So … what did he say?’
‘He said he’d kill Trevor when he caught up with him — something about permanently disrupting the man’s sex life.’
Despite herself, Cassie chuckled. ‘I wonder how?’
Mary-Jo gave an evil grin. ‘I dunno — he had a scalpel in his hand at the time. I volunteered to help.’
Cassie laughed again. ‘Get in the queue! I have a vested interest!’
Mary-Jo shot her a keen look. ‘So, things could get pretty serious with you two, then?’
Cassie lifted her shoulders slightly. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll see.’
Her friend studied her face for a second, and then a broad smile broke out over her features and she nodded slowly. ‘At last. Well, good on you, kid. It’s about time.’
‘Right, that about wraps that up.’ Miles Richardson shut the last file and leant back in the chair, steepling his fingers and studying Nick openly.
‘How’s it going so far?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Fine. No problems.’
‘Trevor?’
Nick looked away and chose his words carefully. ‘I get the feeling he’s not going to be the most cooperative colleague.’
Miles snorted. ‘Jumped-up little toad — he’s a lousy surgeon, a rotten diagnostician and a manipulative snake in the grass. Still, we lose him in three weeks or so — off to A and E to wreak havoc. He’s on general practice rotation, thank God. Think you can cope that long?’
‘If I see this little of him, I would say it’ll be a breeze.’
They exchanged an understanding smile, and Miles stood up.
‘Belinda rang — said would I like to ask you over for supper. Nothing special, just pot luck, but you’re more than welcome.’
Nick hesitated. ‘Er — thank you, that would have been very nice, but I have actually made other arrangements.’
‘Cassie Blake?’
He exhaled sharply, then laughed. ‘Yes — how did you guess?’
Miles winked. ‘Tom-toms. Can’t keep a secret at St Augustine’s. Bring her along, if you like — or would that cramp your style?’
He debated turning the invitation down, but the man was his boss, and he had already got off on the wrong foot with one of the department. Anyway, Cassie had said she liked him …
‘Not at all. Thank you, I will bring her, if you’re sure your wife won’t mind —’
‘No, no — be delighted, dear boy. Cassie’s a charming girl — best damn scrub-nurse I’ve ever worked with. Funny, that —’ he paused pensively ‘— only Trevor’s ever complained about her.’ He shook his head as if in puzzlement, then fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. ‘Here — expect you at seven-fifteen. Think you can find it? It’s just round the corner.’
Nick glanced at the card. ‘No problem — I can always ask someone. Thank you.’
Now all he had to do was break the bad news to Cassie.
CHAPTER THREE
‘SORRY about that.’
Cassie smiled at him warmly. ‘Don’t worry, I enjoyed it. They’re a charming couple.’
He wrapped his arm round her shoulders and squeezed her gently. ‘I would still rather have had you to myself.’
His words warmed her, and she slipped her arm up round his waist and hugged him back.
They had walked to the Richardsons’ house, as it was a lovely clear evening. It was cold and crisp, but the stars were bright and their breath frosted on the air. There was very little traffic about on the little side-roads around the hospital, and as they walked back Cassie was very aware of Nick, of the steady crunch of his footsteps, the solid jut of his hip against hers as he matched his stride to hers, his other hand that had found hers on his waist and now clasped it lightly, shielding it from the cold.
It was still early, only just after ten when they arrived back at the hospital, and she sensed his hesitation as they reached the door.
‘Would you like a coffee?’ she asked tentatively.
He paused, as if he was struggling with himself, then nodded. ‘A quick one. I want to talk to you, actually — about Saturday.’
She opened the door and flicked on the light, then busied herself with the kettle.
‘What about Saturday?’ she asked as casually as she could manage. In truth, she didn’t feel very casual about it. She had felt edgy for days, and then today in Theatre had stirred it all up again, only somehow worse. She had actually been relieved when they had gone to the Richardsons’ rather than a bistro where they would have been alone in the crowd, but walking back her awareness of him seemed to have reached new heights.
She felt terribly vulnerable with him, somehow exposed, as if she had behaved rather foolishly and precipitately on Saturday night. She would have given him anything he asked that night — anything at all. For her, at least, what was blossoming between them seemed incredibly precious, something to be cherished and nurtured. She didn’t know quite how she would feel if he didn’t feel the same, but she knew she was being unrealistic. He was a man, after all, and men — well, they were different. They didn’t see and feel things the same as women, and she knew for a fact that he would define her emotions as sentimental clap-trap.
He was clever, though, practised with women. For all her lack of experience she knew that. Knew, too, that he would play the game by the rules and pretend an element of romance and sentiment to satisfy her.
His hands on her shoulders were warm and gentle, turning her round into his arms. His voice was soft, gruff even, utterly sincere.
‘I didn’t want to leave you — God knows how I walked away from you that night. I have no idea what I did in that theatre — all I could think about was you. Then, as the days seemed to rush by without time to see you again, I got to thinking that perhaps it was just as well, that perhaps it was better if we didn’t rush into such an intimate relationship. Maybe, if I hadn’t had to go up to Theatre, if we’d come back here and made love — maybe you would have regretted it in the morning.
‘I don’t know why, quite, but that really matters. I don’t want you to hate me, Cass.’
She was stunned. She had never expected this, almost a confession. Either it was a very good line, or he was being painfully honest and revealing his feelings.
She wished she could trust him. Damn Simon for destroying her faith so she was afraid to believe anything anybody told her.
She turned her face up to his and met his eyes, and could have drowned in the emotion so clearly visible in their cobalt depths. ‘I don’t think I would have hated you, Nick,’ she murmured.
‘I wouldn’t like to risk it.’
‘I mean it. I’m a big girl, Nick, I know my own mind. You’re probably right, it would have been hasty, but it was going to happen.’
He searched her eyes. ‘And is it still?’
She paused, her breath lodged in her throat. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.’
His eyes grew heavy-lidded with desire. ‘Oh, Cassie,’ he murmured, and then he was kissing her, gently at first and then more urgently, until finally they broke apart for breath.
For a long time he stared into her eyes, his own dark with need, then his lids drifted shut and he leant his head against hers.
‘I must go — now, while I’ve got the strength. I’m so tired I wouldn’t do you justice tonight — and anyway, there’s no rush.’ He hugged her briefly, his mouth lifting in a tender, wistful smile. ‘Think of me.’
And then he was gone.
She stared at the door for a long while, debating whether to go after him or not, but then her common sense reasserted itself — that, and her natural reticence. What if he didn’t really mean it? Only a fool would believe him. He was a natural, a gifted, skilful, charming rake, and Cassie didn’t believe in reformed rakes any more than she believed in fairy tales.
But he had sounded so sincere …
Cassie made herself a drink and curled up with it in her bed in front of the television. There was nothing much on, but it didn’t matter. All she could see were the cobalt depths of his eyes.
‘Think of me,’ he had said. How could she do anything else?
The following weekend she was off duty, and so, apparently, was Nick. Rake or not, Cassie found to her dismay that she desperately wanted to spend it with him. She waited, hopefully, for him to suggest that they get together, but he didn’t.
Finally on Thursday evening, over a plate of spaghetti in a local bistro, he told her he was going away for the weekend.
‘I try to spend every other weekend with my parents,’ he said, ‘and it’s their turn this weekend.’
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