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Molly went outside to find Mittens. He wasn’t too happy about being brought back inside, but she lured him back in with a thread she found hanging off her coat. She closed the door once he was inside and went back to where Lucas was washing the rice for the rice cooker. ‘What can I do to help?’ she said. ‘Shall I set the table in the dining room?’
‘I don’t use the dining room,’ he said. ‘I usually eat in here.’
‘Seems a shame to have such a lovely dining room and never use it,’ Molly said. ‘Don’t you ever have friends over for dinner parties?’
He gave a shrug and pressed the start button on the cooker. ‘Not my scene, I’m afraid.’
‘Do you have a housekeeper?’
‘A woman comes once a week to clean,’ he said. ‘I don’t make much mess, or at least I try not to. I wouldn’t have bothered getting anyone but Gina needed the work. Her husband left her to bring up a couple of kids on her own. She’s reliable and trustworthy.’
Molly cradled her wine in her hands. ‘Do you have a current girlfriend?’
He was silent for a moment. ‘I’m between appointments, so to speak.’
She angled her head at him. ‘What sort of women do you usually date?’
His eyes collided with hers. ‘Why do you ask?’
Molly gave a little shrug. ‘Just wondering.’
‘I’m not a prize date, by any means,’ he said after another long moment. ‘I hate socialising. I hate parties. I don’t drink more than one glass of alcohol.’
‘Not every woman wants to party hard,’ she pointed out.
He studied her unwaveringly for a moment. ‘Not very many women just want to have sex and leave it at that.’
Molly felt a wave of heat rise up in her body. ‘Is that all you want from a partner?’ she asked. ‘Just sex and nothing else?’
Had she imagined his eyes looking hungrily at her mouth for a microsecond? Desire clenched tight in her core as his gaze tethered hers in a sensually charged lock. ‘It’s a primal need like food and shelter,’ he said. ‘It’s programmed into our genes.’
Molly was more aware of her primal needs than she had ever been. Her body was screaming with them, and had been from the moment she had laid eyes on him on the street the other day. It still was a shock to her that she was reacting so intensely to him. She had never thought herself a particularly passionate person. But when she was around him she felt stirrings and longings that were so fervent they felt like they would override any other consideration.
‘We’re surely far more evolved and civilised than to respond solely to our basest needs?’ she said.
His eyes grazed her mouth. ‘Some of us, perhaps.’
The atmosphere tightened another notch.
‘So how do you get your primal needs met?’ Molly asked with a brazen daring she could hardly believe she possessed. ‘Do you drag women back here by the hair and have your wicked way with them?’
This time his gaze went to her hair. She felt every strand of it lift away from her scalp like a Mexican wave. Hot tingles of longing raced along her backbone. She felt a stirring in her breasts; a subtle tightening that made her aware of the lace that supported them. Her heart picked up its pace, a tippity-tap-tap beat that reverberated in her feminine core.
His eyes came back to hers, holding them, searing them, penetrating them. ‘I’m not going to have my wicked way with you, Molly,’ he said.
‘But you want to.’ Oh, dear God, had she really just said that? Molly thought.
‘I’d have to be comatose not to want you,’ he said. ‘But I’m not going to act on it. Not in this lifetime.’
Molly felt an acute sense of disappointment but tried to cover it by playing it light. ‘Glad we got that out of the way,’ she said, and picked up her wine. ‘You’re not really my type in any case.’
A short silence passed.
‘Aren’t you going to ask what my type is?’ she asked. ‘Oh, no, wait. I remember. You already have an opinion on that, don’t you?’
‘You want someone strong and dependable, loyal and faithful,’ he said. ‘Someone who’ll stick by you no matter what. Someone who’ll want kids and has good moral values in order to raise them.’
Molly raised her brows in mock surprise. ‘Not such a bad guess. I didn’t know you knew me so well.’
‘You’re like an open book, Molly.’
She dropped her gaze from his. He was seeing far too much as it was. ‘I need to use the bathroom,’ she said.
‘The guest bathroom is just along from the library.’
As Molly came back from the bathroom she took a quick peek at the library. It was a reader’s dream of a room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stacked with old editions of the classics with a good selection of modern titles. The scent of books and furniture polish gave the room a homely, comfortable feel. She ran her fingers along the leather-bound spines as if reacquainting herself with old friends.
She thought of Lucas in his big private home with only books for company. Did he miss his family? Did he miss the wide, open spaces of the outback? Did he ever long to go home and breathe in the scent of eucalyptus and that wonderful fresh smell of the dusty earth soaking up a shower of rain?
Molly turned from the bookshelves and her gaze came upon a collection of photographs in traditional frames on the leather-topped antique desk. She picked up the first one—it was one of Lucas with his family at Christmas when he’d been a boy of about fifteen. His parents stood proudly either side of their boys. Lucas stood between his brothers, a hand on each young shoulder as if keeping them in place. All of them were smiling; their tanned young faces were so full of life and promise.
Within two years it would be a very different family that faced the camera. The local press had hounded the Bannings after the accident. And then the coroner’s inquiry a few months later had brought the national press to their door. Sensation-hungry journalists had conducted tell-all interviews with the locals. Even though the coroner had finally concluded it had been an accident and Lucas was not in any way to blame for Matt’s death, the press had painted a very different picture from the gossip and hearsay they had gleaned locally. They had portrayed Lucas as a wild boy from the bush who had taken his parents’ farm vehicle without permission and taken his best friend for a joyride that had ended in his friend’s death. Jane and Bill Banning had visibly aged overnight, Lucas even more so. He had gone from a fresh-faced teenager of seventeen to a man twice that age, who looked like the world had just landed on his shoulders.
Molly reached for the other photo on the desk. Her heart gave a tight spasm as she saw Matt’s freckled face grinning widely as he sat astride his motocross bike, his blue eyes glinting with his usual mischief.
The last time she had seen her brother he hadn’t been smiling. He had been furious with her for going into his room and finding his stash of contraband cigarettes. She had told their parents and as a result he had been grounded.
For every one of the seventeen years since that terrible day Molly had wished she had never told their parents. If Matt hadn’t been grounded he might not have slipped out with Lucas that night behind their parents’ backs. Matt had hated being confined. He’d got claustrophobic and antsy when restrictions had been placed on him. It was one of the reasons he had been thrown from the vehicle. He hadn’t been wearing a seat belt.
‘I thought you might be in here,’ Lucas said from the doorway.
Molly put the photo back down on the desk. ‘I hadn’t seen that picture before,’ she said, and picked up another one of Ian and Neil with their current partners. ‘Neil’s been going out with Hannah Pritchard for quite a while now, hasn’t he? Are they planning on getting married?’
‘I think it’s been discussed once or twice,’ he said.
She put the photo down and looked at him. ‘Would you go home for the wedding?’
His expression visibly tightened. ‘Dinner’s ready,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to make it short. I have to go back to the hospital to check on a patient.’
Molly followed him back to the kitchen, where he had set up two places, one at each end of the long table. He seemed distracted as they ate. He barely spoke and he didn’t touch his wine. She got the feeling he had only eaten because his body needed food. He seemed relieved when she pushed her plate away and said she was full.
‘I’ll walk you home on the way,’ he said, and reached for his coat.
‘You’re not going to drive?’
His eyes shifted away from hers as he slipped his hospital lanyard over his neck. ‘It’s only a few blocks,’ he said. ‘I like the exercise.’
They walked in silence until they came to the front door of Molly’s bedsit. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I find another place to rent,’ she said. ‘I hope it won’t be more than a few days.’
‘Fine.’
‘Thanks for dinner,’ she said after a tight little silence. ‘I’ll have to return the favour some time.’
‘You’re not obliged to,’ he said, and glanced impatiently at his watch. ‘I’d better get going.’
‘Bye.’ Molly lifted her hand in a little wave but he had already turned his back and left.
CHAPTER THREE
LUCAS DIDN’T LEAVE the hospital until close to three a.m. and the streets were deserted as he trudged home. The chilly wind drove ice-pick holes through his chest in spite of his thick woollen coat and scarf. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and wondered what it was like back home at Carboola Creek. He loathed February in London. It was so bleak and miserable. If the sun did manage to break through the thick wad of clouds it was usually weak and watery, and while the snow was beautiful when it first fell, it all too soon turned to slippery brown slush.
He thought longingly of Bannington Homestead. If he closed his eyes he could almost smell the rain-soaked red dust of the plains. It seemed a lifetime ago since he had felt the bright hot sun on his face.
He opened the door of his house and a piteous meow sounded. ‘Damn you, Molly,’ he muttered as the little cat came limping towards him with its big possum-like eyes shining in welcome. ‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ he addressed it in a gruff tone. ‘You’re not staying long.’
The cat meowed again and ribboned itself around his ankles before moving way to play with the fringe of the Persian carpet. Lucas caught a faint whiff of Molly’s perfume in the air as he moved through the house. It was strongest in the library, or maybe that was just his imagination. He breathed in deeply. The hint of jasmine and sweet peas teased his nostrils, reminding him of hot summer evenings sitting out on the veranda at the homestead.
He let out a long weary sigh and picked up the photograph of his family. His parents were in their sixties now. They were still working the land alongside Neil. Ian was the other side of town on another property. His parents had come over to London for visits a few times. He had loved having them here but it made it so much harder when they left. His mother always cried. Even his stoic father had a catch in his voice and moisture in his eyes. Lucas had come to dread the airport goodbyes. He hated seeing them so distraught. He had not encouraged them to return and always made some excuse about being too busy to entertain visitors.
Lucas wondered if they missed him even half as much as he missed them. But it was the price he had to pay. He put the photo back down and looked at Matt’s photo. He saw echoes of his mate’s face in the pretty features of Molly. That dusting of freckles, the same uptilted nose, the same light brown hair with its sun-bleached highlights.
Was that why he felt so drawn to her?
Not entirely.
She was all woman now, a beautiful young woman with the whole world at her feet. He saw the way the male staff and patients looked at her. It was the same way he looked at her. He had been so close to pulling her into his arms and kissing her. He had wanted to press his mouth to the soft bow of hers to see if it felt as soft and sweet as it looked.
But he could just imagine how her parents would react if he laid a finger on their precious daughter. He thought of what his parents would feel. They wouldn’t say anything out loud, but he knew they would find it hard to accept Molly. It wasn’t her fault, but any involvement with her would make moving on from the past that much more difficult for them and for him. Did he want her so badly because he knew he couldn’t have her? Or was it just that she was everything he had always wanted for himself but didn’t feel he deserved?
When Molly got to work the next morning Su Ling, one of the registrars, pulled her over and said in an undertone, ‘Keep away from the boss. He’s in a foul mood. We had a death overnight—David Hyland in Bed Four. He went into organ failure and Lucas was here until the wee hours with him and the family.’
Molly glanced at the empty bed and felt a sinking feeling assail her. David Hyland had only been forty-two with a wife and two young children. He’d developed complications after routine gall-bladder surgery and Molly had only spoken to his wife the day before about how hopeful they were that he would pull through.
Deaths in ICU were part of the job. Not everyone made it. It was a fact of life. Miracles happened occasionally but there was only so much medicine and critical care could do. She wondered if every death on the unit brought home to Lucas the death that haunted him most.
‘Don’t you have anything better to do than to stand there staring into space?’ Lucas barked from behind her.
Molly swung around to face him. ‘I was just—’
‘There are two families waiting in the counselling rooms for updates on their loved ones,’ he said in a clipped, businesslike tone. ‘I would appreciate it if you got your mind on the job.’
‘My mind is on the job,’ she said. ‘I was on my way to speak to the Mitchell family now. Do you have any further updates on Claire that I should make them aware of?’
His eyes looked bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept the night before. ‘Claire is stable,’ he said. ‘I can’t give them anything other than that. We’ll try and wean her off the sedation again tomorrow. We’ll repeat the scans then as well.’
Molly watched as he strode away, barking out orders as he went. Megan, one of the nurses, caught her eye and raised her brows meaningfully as she walked past with a catheter bag. ‘He obviously didn’t get laid last night.’
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