Men In Uniform: Mad About The Doctor: Her Little Secret / First Time Lucky? / How To Mend A Broken Heart
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‘By the time we’ve given handover—about seven-thirty.’
‘I’m here till eight, if you want to hang around—I’ll be quicker than the bus.’
He would be, there wasn’t one till ten minutes to.
‘Thanks,’ Alison said.
She cleaned and polished the trolleys, and tried not to think about it as she dealt with the occasional patient, who was seen by the resident and didn’t require Nick.
In the morning, when Moira was still teasing for a loan of his bed and he was skilfully deflecting her thinly disguised offer, the rest of the night team, apart from Mary, sped off on the dot of seven-thirty. Alison hung around for a quick chat with Ellie, put her name on the list for the lifting refresher course and then, when Sheila asked if she had five more minutes to go over some annual leave requests, she nodded. When there was nothing else to linger for, except Nick, he walked down the corridor, blonde, tired, offering a lift. Alison smiled and said thanks.
When with him, when it was just them, the doubts that plagued her when they were apart were silenced as always.
‘Better than the bus?’ Nick asked as she sank back into the passenger seat.
‘This morning—yes,’ Alison admitted.
‘Do you drive?’ He glanced over.
‘Sometimes—I just prefer the bus for work. The traffic getting in and the staff car-park is impossible sometimes so it’s nice just to sit and read the paper.’
‘It’s been nice not driving,’ Nick admitted, ‘but I can’t stand the thought of a bus ride after being on all night—I’d fall asleep.’
‘It’s always happening to me,’ Alison said. ‘I end up being woken by the driver.’
He was so easy to talk to—about the complicated, about the mundane—but even though they chatted easily, there was a definite charge in the air, which had a sleepy Alison on the alert. He must have shaved yesterday morning, rather than before coming to work, because he was clearly unshaven now, she noticed. Just as she noticed when he pulled on dark glasses against the glare of the morning sun. Just as she noticed his long tanned fingers tapping on the steering-wheel as they sat in heavy traffic.
‘Do you sleep well?’ Nick asked, because he had heard about the whole nursing crew’s habits and he wanted to find out about hers.
‘Depends,’ Alison said. ‘Mum’s at work so the house is quiet…’ And her voice trailed off, because somehow that charge in the air intensified, and there was this pause, this silent pondering, a false night that stretched ahead and a shining window of opportunity.
‘Do you want to go somewhere for breakfast?’ Nick asked as the bay came into view.
‘No, thanks,’ Alison said, because she wasn’t thinking about breakfast.
Just bed.
Bed.
And though they were both tired and sleepy and longing for bed, as he pulled up outside her door, there was no denying it—they were longing for each other too—and as naturally as breathing she turned to him. There was no awkwardness, no will he, won’t he, just the bliss of a night spent looking and thinking and pretending you didn’t want to, all melting away now that no one else was around. It was a really nice kiss, a slow, morning kiss that could tip easily to more, but there was no way she was asking him in because Alison knew where his kiss could lead and probably there was no chance of her mum coming home, but she just couldn’t put herself or her mother in that situation.
‘Have a good sleep.’ She pulled her mouth away, but she wanted to dive back in.
‘I doubt it,’ Nick said, and Alison doubted she would either.
She was a kiss away from his bed, Nick knew that, and for the first time in his quest for freedom Nick felt as if he needed to spell out the rules, needed to be very sure that she knew, and so he said it.
He made himself say it.
‘I can’t stay…’
And she smiled and was very brave, even managed a little joke. ‘I didn’t ask you in.’
But he wasn’t talking about that—she knew he wasn’t talking about that as she climbed out of his car.
He watched her walk up the garden path and for the first time in a long time, at least where women were concerned, Nick was confused—Nick the one almost willing her not to turn round—because of how much he wanted her, and for the foreseeable future, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Except this was how it was.
She was exhausted, utterly and completely exhausted, but though her body ached for bed as she walked up her garden path, she ached for him too. It was just criminal that a few streets apart he’d be in bed and she’d be in bed and they had a whole day, a whole wonderful day, if only she would take it. She had her key in the front door, and she opened it, turned round to give him a wave, and he just sat there, looking at her, and she stood there, looking at him, and wished he’d drive off, would just go, except he didn’t.
Then she panicked that he would drive off, that he’d pull off the handbrake and she’d miss her chance.
Her one lovely chance to be wild and brave and sexy and impulsive.
Alison slammed the door closed again and turned round. She could see his smile even from the garden, see the want in his eyes as she made the one reckless decision of her life and sped down the garden path. He had the passenger door open before Alison got there. She jumped in like an eager puppy, and he was an equally eager master because he was pulling her in and kissing her, this smothering kiss that sighed and groaned with mutual consent of what was to come. There was just a flicker of sanity, of what would the neighbours think because it was eight a.m. and they were necking like teenagers. Then he pulled back and gave her the most fantastic smile and Alison, who had craved wild, craved passion and adventure, took a breath, took the plunge, and what she said was from her wildest dreams, because she said what Alison Carter would never have—looked into eyes that looked into hers, and in the mirror of them she saw herself, found herself, was finally herself. ‘I want breakfast in bed.’
CHAPTER NINE
HE KISSED her even as the front door closed and for a moment, just a moment, she did wonder what the hell she was doing and tried not to worry that she’d been working all night and must smell of hospitals, consoling herself, that so too must he, but then his kiss did its magic, produced an Alison that only he could.
‘You taste fantastic.’ She said her thoughts out loud, because with him she could, and his hands roamed her body, as they had been longing to all night, and she leant against the hall wall and he kissed her some more.
It was a relief to get to the bedroom.
Yes, it had the most stunning view from the bedroom, except they didn’t want to see it. It was an exercise in frustration as they tried to quickly close the blinds and for the first time she heard him swear as it stuck halfway down, but then, yippee, they were closed and he was kissing her again.
‘God, Alison…’ He made light work of the buttons on her blouse because he’d been undoing them in his head all night. He stripped her—it was such a brilliant word, Alison thought. He stripped her blouse, her navy three-quarter-length Capri pants, he stripped her mind of doubt because his hands and mouth adored her, he stripped her of care and worry till all that was left was her bra and panties and a mind that was free. Now it was her turn and she would, Alison decided as she took off the grey shirt he had been wearing that first day, remember this for ever and ever, because she’d been guessing and peeking and driving herself insane with imagination. Now the big day was here and, unlike Nick, she didn’t tear open the wrappers on her parcels. No, she had a nice feel of his chest through the material, tried one more image of what might be inside and slowly, very slowly, tongue on her bottom lip, she peeled one button open, and then another, and he was telling her to hurry but she refused to be rushed.
One more button and she could see a flat brown nipple. She ran her hand over it then bent her head and kissed it, and she could feel his hands undoing her bra, feel the drop of aching breasts as he freed her. Yet still she would not be rushed. She had his shirt open a little more now, down to that lovely flat stomach, and all his online pictures combined couldn’t capture how nice it was in real life, taut and smooth. She ran her hands over him and he was pulling off her bra and she slid down his shirt and then she went back for another taste of his nipple, heard him moan, felt his hands in her hair and then he moved them, because Nick wanted his pants down.
‘Don’t spoil my fun.’ She pushed his hands away and she was cruel and she wasn’t kind. She fiddled with the button and refused to let him help her. He was breathing so hard, his hands toying with her bottom, laid-back Nick, just brimming now with urgency, but she was in no rush.
Well, maybe a little bit, because beneath linen pants that he almost fell over to step out of were the sexiest hipsters and she felt him again, gave her present a little squeeze to gauge it and she couldn’t tease any more, because she wanted to see, she wanted to feel, wanted what was hers. And he was completely spectacular, and hers for now and she held it, over and over she held it, till her breathing was doing strange things now, because he had his hands on the cheeks of her bottom and was pressing her into him, and his mouth was on hers and then he wanted more, more of her than he should sensibly want, because when he should be diving in he was diving down, pushing her on the bed and running his mouth up her thighs, and it was Nick in no rush now.
He kissed and he teased and he relished her throb in his mouth, but there was this strange moment, a warning almost, because though it felt like sex and tasted of it too, it was teetering into something more. A place where he had to remember to stop, to put on a condom, not just slide up and slide in as he so badly wanted to. A different place, because as he drove deep within her, why was he saying her name over and over?
And this was what he did, Alison reminded herself as she tried to hold back, tried and failed to cling onto that last bit of restraint.
This was what that smile promised, Alison told herself, except her body didn’t want to register dire warnings, it wanted to be free, and trapped beneath him, finally she was.
‘It’s the quiet ones you have to worry about.’ She lay next to Nick and smiled at his voice as she came back to earth and when half an hour later, still neither were sleeping, she said yes when he offered to make a drink and lay there, just a little awkward as to what he was thinking as she heard him walk out to the kitchen.
What was he thinking?
Nick wasn’t sure as he filled a glass with water and emptied it in one and then, rather than think, he flicked on the television as he waited for the kettle to boil. But there was no solace there, an armchair psychologist was telling him to face up to feelings, to be honest with himself—only Nick didn’t want to.
‘How many sugars?’ he called down the hall, because that was how it should be, except he remembered before she even answered.
‘Have you got any sweeteners?’
He didn’t, so she settled for sugar then grumbled that it tasted different as he climbed in bed beside her, then admitted, as Nick lay there, that she actually preferred the real thing.
‘It’s bad for you, though,’ Nick said, and he’d forgotten to turn the television off, so he padded back out and aimed the remote like a loaded gun, because honesty was not the best policy here.
It wasn’t just Alison he was worried about hurting here.
It was himself.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE could tell it was Tuesday the second she stepped inside. The slow cooker was on and the scent of beef stroganoff filled the house. Her heart was in her mouth as she waited for her mum to appear and say she’d been off sick and where the hell had she been all day, but the house was still and silent. Alison checked her mobile and the house phone and there were no messages, and starving Alison had some stroganoff between two slices of bread and butter then showered and headed straight to bed, to cram in a couple more hours’ sleep, which she managed amazingly well. She was woken at six-thirty by her mum’s knock on the door.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Really well,’ Alison said, hiding her guilty blush.
‘Good. I tried not to wake you when I came in. Dinner’s almost ready.’
‘How was work?’ Alison asked as they sat and ate dinner. It was a nice dinner and a nice conversation and they even had a laugh. Alison would miss this and did love her so, it was just the little things that added up, like Nick wanting the crossword and Paul’s garlic bread, that built and built until they became big things and change really was needed, because a row with her mother, hurting her mother, Alison would avoid at all costs.
Little things like Rose insisting she take leftovers for her meal break.
‘I can put some in a container and you can have it on your break,’ Rose offered.
‘Put it in the freezer,’ Alison said. ‘I think I’ll get something from the canteen.’
‘From the vending machine?’ Rose said.
‘They do sandwiches and things and there are nice vol-au-vents.’
‘Why would you pay for something when you can take it in?’ Rose said, pulling out a container and filling it with Tuesday’s beef stroganoff.
‘I just fancy—’
‘You need to be more careful—you’ve got a mortgage to think of now.’
She took the stroganoff.
Still, it was appreciated.
By Nick, who was sick of canteen sandwiches and mushroom vol-au-vents.
To describe a busy week of night shifts as the best week of her life would have once been laughable, but for the first time since the tragedy Alison actually glimpsed normality in upside-down week.
A gorgeous normality where work was busy, a happy normality where she ate dinner with her mum each night and packed leftover dinner for her evening break.
An easy normality, where she didn’t have to lie, well, not outright, and she didn’t have to race home at midnight. All she had to do was be.
Nick would drive her home. More often than not she’d see her mum at the bus stop or pop in just to check that she had gone, and, just to be sure, Alison would leave a little note on the kitchen bench that read something like, Gone shopping, or At dentist, which she’d tear up when she got home at four. Then she’d grab some clothes and race down the street to Nick’s car, to him, to a gorgeous normality, where they shut the blinds on the world and lay in bed and talked and laughed, and made lovely love, or rather, she corrected herself, had torrid, wild sex and slept.
She knew from the start, though, that it couldn’t last.
‘Can I borrow you before you go, Nick?’ Amy clipped in for her day shift at the end of the week, all scented, suited and gorgeous, as an exhausted Alison subtly hung back for her lift.
‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Nick managed as he disappeared into his colleague’s office, but no matter how many times Alison checked the staff roster, and no matter how chatty her colleagues were, by eight-fifteen she was starting to look as if she had no home to go to.
‘Where is Amy?’ Sheila barked from a cubicle, then marched out to the intercom. ‘It’s all very well swapping her shifts, but the occasional appearance on the shop floor would be nice.’ Her voice was a lot sweeter when she pressed the button. ‘Amy, we need you out here.’
‘Is it urgent?’ came Nick’s voice, and Sheila rolled her eyes.
‘Pressing, not urgent.’
‘Let us know if that changes,’ came Nick’s firm reply.
‘Good luck!’ Alison smiled to Sheila as she heaved up her bag and headed for the bus stop, but despite a rapid run she missed it and despite the sun she shivered at the stop, tired and, as Nick’s car pulled up a full twenty minutes later, just a little fed up.
‘Sorry about that.’
It would have been childish not to get in.
‘I was thinking…’ Nick negotiated the early-morning traffic easily, even laughed when she grumbled about rush-hour, telling her she should try driving where he lived in England if she wanted a real rush-hour, and then he got back to thinking. ‘How about we do the Sydney Harbour Bridge climb this weekend?’
‘I can’t even think about bridges and climbing at this hour.’
‘It will be fun.’
Alison could think of other words to describe it and her eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard—had she left on time and taken the bus, she’d already be in bed. ‘What did Amy want?’ It was a childish question to ask perhaps, or perhaps it was the edge to her voice, because Nick glanced over.
‘There was something she needed to discuss.’
Which gave her no answer and the silence wasn’t comfortable as he stopped at the traffic lights and again he looked over at her.
‘Don’t ask me to betray a confidence, Alison, just because we’re…’ His eyes shuttered for a moment, perhaps ruing his near choice of words. ‘Work’s separate,’ Nick said. ‘We both agreed.’
It wasn’t a row, it wasn’t anything she could pin down, yet stupidly she felt like crying, relieved almost when Nick stopped at a corner shop and got out. ‘I need milk.’
And it was a tiny time out, a welcome time out, because by the time he came out of the shop, all gorgeous and yawning, Alison had convinced herself she was tired, that was all, not questioning and jealous, just ratty, premenstrual and coming off a full week of sex and nights.
‘Here.’ He handed her one of two newspapers he had bought, gave her a kiss and then smiled. ‘There’s always a simple solution.’
There just wasn’t to this.
And even if they were talking, even if there hadn’t been a row, things felt different this morning.
Nick had a call from his boss in the UK then another from his mum, both reminding Alison there was a world that was waiting for him to rejoin it, and she was all too aware that next week she’d be back on days, which meant home by midnight, that the slice of freedom she’d carved for them was drawing to a close and it was either lie there and cry or just pretend to be asleep when a long hour later, damp from the shower, his tired body slipped into bed.
‘Alison?’ She heard his voice and didn’t answer, lay with her eyes closed till she didn’t have to pretend any more, didn’t have to pretend that she could do this, but it was a fitful sleep, an uneasy sleep. She woke at two, and looked over at him and he really was exquisite.
Alison didn’t generally prefer blonds—she just preferred Nick.
He must have felt her wake, because he stirred a bit beside her, rolled a little toward her and his legs trapped hers and pulled her in a bit so her face was closer to his chest. She’d been enjoying looking, but now she was enjoying feeling the sleepy body beside hers as she lay awake, exploring the sensation of his long limbs loosely wrapped around hers and the scent of him. There was more than just thought there, because it woke him, this energy, this want that hauled him from slumber, because he slid her up a little till their faces met.
‘Morning.’
‘Morning,’ Alison answered, even if it was mid-afternoon and, better than a kiss, he answered what was still on her mind.
‘Amy was offering me more work.’
‘Overtime?’
‘Extra time,’ Nick said. ‘She was just sounding me out, there’s nothing definite…’
‘Isn’t Cort coming back?’ Alison blinked, curious for other reasons. Cort had taken leave suddenly three months ago, and all the senior staff had been tight-lipped as to why—as Nick was being now.
‘It’s not that.’ He closed his eyes. ‘You can’t say anything.’
‘I wouldn’t.’ But Nick wouldn’t reveal any more. Still, that he was considering staying was what she wanted to hear, but she knew his struggle, because hers was the same. ‘What about Asia?’
‘I can’t do both.’
‘Could you, though?’ Alison asked. ‘Could you take more time off?’
‘They very reluctantly gave me this year.’ It was too much to think about, too much to consider, so he pulled her closer instead and there were forty-seven minutes, give or take, till she had to up and leave, and they both smiled at that pleasurable thought.
Both awake, and even if their minds were racing with new possibilities, their bodies were still pliant and just a little lazy, because they moved in just a little closer, and his legs wrapped around hers a little tighter. The bed was so warm and it felt so nice, and Alison gladly kissed him back, which was so much better than thinking about Asia and careers and sky-high bridges, except the thoughts were in the bed with them too, because it wasn’t fair, Alison thought, as his kiss deepened. It wasn’t bloody fair, his mouth agreed as he pulled her in tighter. A little lazy, a little bit angry, a little bit reckless, or just greedy for a little bit more. When he pulled her even closer, Alison didn’t move back, or away. She could feel his warm, heavy length between her legs, and she wanted him there, and he wanted to be there, because there he stayed a while.
She felt a low tremble in her body as he ran his tip over her moist place, she could feel his kiss deepen even more, feel the tightening of her throat and the flood of desire that bade him on, not consciously, more naturally, just a deepening kiss at both ends of their bodies, and he was just a little way in and her body willed him to go further, beat for him to join her. But sense hauled them back from that dangerous place, Nick rolling over and sheathing himself, Alison dizzy at what they had almost done but grateful for common sense prevailing. Then he was back and, yes, they were both angry, not with the other but at time that wouldn’t pause. With every thrust she counted the days and her hips rose, defiant at the injustice.
She was angry.
And he let her be.
He let her be selfish and taste his mouth and his chest for as long as she wanted, he let her tension rise till she thought she might push him off, because she didn’t know how to feel like this, she didn’t know how far she could go. So he showed her, he pushed her, he waited for her, till she stopped counting the days and berating the past, stopped chasing the future till she was in an empty, silent space that was theirs alone to fill—with her scream and his release, with new sensations, deeper sensations than either had felt before.
And something shifted, something definitely shifted, because a little while later, when the alarm bleeped its warning, for the first time Nick grumbled, pulled her back when she said she had to go. ‘Stay a bit longer,’ Nick said. And she did.
Alison reset the alarm and climbed back in, wondering if in a few weeks he’d do the same for her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LIKE Louise Haversham’s toothache, sometimes the agony woke her, but for a while, if she didn’t push or probe, Nick’s nearing departure was kept at a niggle, a gnawing in the background. Two months had never seemed long enough. In fact, by the time she’d met him, a week of that had already passed, by the time she’d decided to just go for it, another week, and since then she’d seen Sydney thorough the eyes of a tourist, had been on whale-watching trips and a jet-board ride, though she’d declined his suggestion for a tandem sky dive! With the keys to the flat soon to be hers, they were in the final countdown and it wasn’t just her feeling it, at every turn she was reminded of the fact. But the hint that Cort’s return might be delayed was her ray of hope on the horizon and Alison was determined to let it shine.
‘These are for you!’ David said. ‘For all of you.’ But he smiled especially at Alison as he handed over a large tin of chocolates and he was a different man indeed from the one she had met just a month ago. ‘Rebecca’s here for her outpatient appointment. We just wanted to stop by and thank everyone.’