One Life-Changing Night

He quickly picked up the eggs and whisked them some more. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I’m starving.’

‘Good.’ He tried not to breathe in all the aromas that she’d somehow brought out with her. There was a hint of lavender and something else sweet, warm and clean. She perched herself on a stool at his breakfast bar and he saw long, toned legs and dainty feet with pink-painted toenails. ‘I’ll make a start, then.’

‘Can’t wait.’

He swallowed hard and turned his back.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE WOKE WITH a start, a bad dream about smelly men in balaclavas still in her consciousness as she blinked quickly and looked about the strange room. Then she remembered.

Tom’s.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Five-forty-two a.m. It was early. But she had to be at work at seven, ready for the shift handover at seven-fifteen, so there didn’t seem much point in trying to go back to sleep. She’d be getting up in twenty minutes anyway. Throwing off the covers, she got up and quickly made her bed, before getting dressed.

She moved quietly, hoping not to disturb Tom. She’d already put him out enough yesterday, especially last night when her presence had meant he couldn’t even relax in his own home. The last thing she wanted was to wake him early and disturb his sleep pattern.

He was a good man, she thought. Despite the prickly exterior. He’d opened his home to a complete stranger, giving her the space she’d needed to just settle and breathe and get over her stressful day.

After their omelettes last night—which, due to something magical he’d done with Tabasco sauce and tomatoes, had been the most incredible she had ever tasted—he had wished her goodnight and disappeared to his room. She had watched him go, silent and strong, his long, lean figure moving gracefully like a cat into the shadows.

She’d taken the opportunity to look around his living space and discovered that Dr Tom Williams seemed very much a solitary man. There was no room for sentiment here. Each piece of furniture or decor had been chosen for its aesthetic appeal, rather than being some old family heirloom. There were no pictures on the walls of family or loved ones, no photo albums. Every surface was clean and uncluttered and only his bookshelves showed some hint to his character—clearly work focused, as all his books had been medical texts.

Was work all he thought about? She saw no sign of any other interest. There were no knick-knacks lying around like those she’d had all over the place. No personal touches. There was just the piano and, even then, she wondered if that was for him to play, or just another element of style. The only homely touch—the flowers—had been brought in by his cleaner.

But Naomi was thankful that he was focused on his work. Because apart from that small chat they’d had whilst he’d been preparing food in the kitchen, he had left her alone. He’d given her space, stayed out of her way.

It was his home and he was hiding in it. Perhaps he wasn’t that thrilled to have her here after all? Perhaps he had felt compelled to suggest that she stay with him because he thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Tom certainly seemed like a gentleman, from the little she knew of him.

Still, she felt safe getting up this early and having a few minutes to herself before he surfaced. Perhaps she could make him a coffee and some toast, or cereal. She had no idea if he would be a cereal type of man. A quick look in his kitchen would tell her what she wanted to know. But it would be good to do something nice for him to show her appreciation. After all, later today she would be out of his hair.

She opened her bedroom door and was surprised to find all the lights on and Tom already up and about in his kitchen. He looked over at her. ‘Good morning. Sleep well?’

She wasn’t used to being greeted like that in the mornings, even when she’d been married. Back then, she’d fall sleep, exhausted, after a long, physical day and when she woke and went into her husband’s room, the first words out of his mouth would usually be to tell her what sort of a night he’d had. Whether he’d got any sleep at all. There had been no hellos. No good mornings.

‘I slept very well, thank you. You?’

‘Seven hours. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Breakfast?’

She stood on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. ‘I was going to make you breakfast. I didn’t think you’d be up yet.’ She saw he must have been up for quite a while—his hair was still slightly damp from the shower, the auburn a deeper red whilst it was wet, and his jawline was freshly shaved.

‘What would you like?’

‘Just toast for me.’

‘Anything on it? Jam? Honey? Marmalade?’

‘You have all of those?’ She smiled.

‘I do.’

She liked watching him in the kitchen. He seemed at home in it. ‘Marmalade will be lovely.’

He cut two fresh slices from a large bloomer and popped the bread in the toaster, then poured her a coffee from a cafetière and passed her the milk and sugar.

‘You’re very domesticated, Dr Williams.’

He paused briefly to consider her words. ‘Because I can make toast and pour coffee?’

‘Because you know how to make someone feel welcome. I can appreciate it must be hard to have a stranger in your home, but you’ve made me feel like it’s okay to be here, so … thank you.’

His ocean-blue eyes met her mocha brown just for a brief second. He gave a quick glance of gratitude, of appreciation and then looked away again, busying himself with the breakfast. ‘Any idea of what you’re going to do about your flat?’

He was changing the subject. She wondered if she’d made him uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got work first, so I guess I’ll have to sort it out later.’

‘Everywhere will be closed later. Why don’t you take the day off?’

‘On my second day? No chance. No, I’ll just have to hope for the best. Find someone to fix the door somewhere …’

He looked torn, as if he had something to say, but couldn’t say it.

The toast popped up and he handed it over on a plate, piping hot, along with a choice of marmalades, one with bits and one without.

‘Oh … er … thank you.’

‘It’s no problem.’

She hoped he was telling the truth.

‘Josephine McDonald?’

Her first patient of the day had already been seen by the triage nurse, who had noted on her card that earlier that day Josephine had misused her father’s nail gun and had a six-inch nail shot through the end of her index finger.

Naomi looked out across the waiting room and watched as a young woman stood up, grimaced and then walked over to her, clutching at her left hand that was wrapped up in a tea towel.

It was an impressive-looking nail.

‘Let’s take a look at that, shall we?’ Naomi walked Josephine back to a cubicle and sat her down, pulling the curtain closed. ‘So, how did this happen?’ She took hold of her patient’s hand, slowly turning it this way and that, to see what damage had been caused.

‘I was helping my dad out with a job. He’s a carpenter and he was letting me use the nail gun. I got … distracted … and somehow my finger ended up getting pierced.’

Naomi could understand. She was the accidental type, too. ‘What distracted you?’

Josephine blushed. ‘A guy.’

Naomi smiled at her patient. ‘Oh. I see. Was he worth it?’

Josephine nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh, yes! Definitely!’ She sighed dramatically. ‘What can I say? A girl gets her head turned by a handsome man and always gets hurt.’

Naomi smiled again and checked for capillary refill on the girl’s nail, which was fine, and stroked her finger. ‘Can you feel this? And this?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I don’t think there’s any nerve damage. Can you bend the finger?’

‘Yes. But I can feel it pulling on the nail.’

‘We’ll need an X-ray to make sure it’s not gone through the bone and if you get the all-clear we can pull it out. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?’

Josephine blanched. ‘I think so. Just a year or two ago. Pull it out? Won’t that hurt?’

‘We’ll do a nerve block beforehand and you can suck on some gas and air if you need it. Is your father with you? Someone to hold your hand?’

‘Dad’s in the waiting area.’

‘Didn’t you bring the hot guy with you?’

‘Er … no. Apparently he doesn’t do well with blood.’

‘Right.’ She smiled.

‘What can you do? You see a hot guy, you have to give him the old “come hither” look. I just wasn’t coordinated enough to be alluring and shoot a nail.’

Naomi smiled, trying to picture herself giving anyone a ‘come hither’ look. But then she stopped herself. Why would she do that? She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She was happy being single and independent for a while. This was her first foray into the world alone, without her mother sticking her oar in, or without having to consider her husband’s needs. She was finally free to do as she pleased.

‘It’s not bleeding, so let’s get you round to X-ray.’ She turned in her chair, reaching for the X-ray referral card, and filled in the details. ‘Take this—’ she handed it over and reopened the cubicle curtain ‘—and head straight down, follow the red line on the floor, round to the right and past the second set of chairs. Put the card in the slot and they’ll call you through when they’re ready.’

‘Thanks.’

She watched the patient walk away and then started to clean down the cubicle. They hadn’t really used it, but she stripped the bed of its paper sheet, wiped it down with clinical cleansing wipes and redid the sheet. As she did so the cubicle curtain next to hers was whipped open. ‘Dr Williams!’

Was her heart beating just a little faster than normal? It definitely felt that way. She took a steadying breath to calm herself and inwardly gave herself a dressing-down. There was no need to get nervous with the man. He was her boss, yes, but that was all he was. She’d be moving out of his flat later.

‘Nurse Bloom.’

He dismissed his patient, who hobbled away on newly acquired crutches, and then he turned back to smile at her. He looked very dashing today in his dark navy trousers and matching waistcoat against a crisp white shirt. She had to admit she did like a man that dressed well. Vincent had always worn quite loose-fitting clothes like tracksuit bottoms and T-shirts. They had been the easiest things to dress him in and he’d liked to feel comfortable whilst in his wheelchair. So to see a man who knew how to dress well, who took pride in his appearance, without being vain, was a nice thing to see and enjoy.

‘The department looks decidedly less Christmassy today.’

She laughed good-naturedly. ‘Yes. There should be hearts going up soon, in readiness for Valentine’s.’ She blushed slightly at the inference she’d made that it was time for hearts and romance. Her mind scrabbled to redirect their conversation. ‘Or perhaps eggs for Easter? I’m sure the shops have them already.’

‘You like to celebrate all the holidays?’

Naomi shrugged as she walked alongside him back to the central desk where a lot of the staff filled in paperwork or checked information on the computer. ‘Well, I like the chocolate aspect. Is that wrong?’

‘Absolutely not. In fact, I think it’s almost law.’ He sat down at the desk, opened his file and started writing his notes.

She noted his hands. He had fine hands, with long fingers, like a pianist’s. So, perhaps he did play that beautiful instrument in his home. He wore a simple band on his middle finger, which might have been tungsten, or platinum. It looked as if it could be a wedding band, but it was on the wrong digit.

It’s none of my business.

Irritated with her own response to that thought, Naomi picked up the next card from triage and glanced at it. It was a child with a head wound. As she went to leave she heard Tom’s voice call her name.

‘Nurse Bloom?’

Turning, she looked at him, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the flicker of muscle as he clenched and unclenched it, as if he were debating with himself. ‘Yes?’

‘When you have a moment … when you have a break, would you come and find me? There’s something I’d like to run past you.’

Run past me?

‘Have I done something wrong?’ She frowned, not knowing what it could be and worried that she might be in trouble again already. Now her heart really was pounding in her chest.

‘No. Just … something personal. That’s all.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Something personal.

That’s all.

She wondered what it could be. Maybe she’d done something she shouldn’t have done back at his flat. Had she left something out of place? Not put the lid back on the toothpaste, or something? He might be picky about things like that. It had certainly been neat. Everything in its place.

Worried, she headed back to the waiting room and called her next patient.

After she’d seen the child with the head injury, Naomi dealt with an elderly lady with a bad chest infection, then a sprained wrist and after that a young man with a buildup of blood behind his fingernail that needed releasing. Whilst she treated them all, she worried about what it was that Tom was going to ask her.

Something personal.

If it had nothing to do with work, then what could it be? He knew nothing about her, really. She’d made her bed in the flat. She’d cleaned up after herself, and been the perfect guest, hopefully. As her break time arrived she let the sister know she was going and then she began to look for Tom, her stomach in knots, her mouth dry.

She did not need complications. She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime. This was the start of her new life. She’d moved away from her old one and had come here to London, to the city, to prove to herself that she was independent and strong and could live her own life, with her own rules. This was her chance to be free of routine and stress. To only have to worry about herself.

Maybe he was going to ask her to make sure she moved out by the end of the day. She hoped not. After a full day shift until four p.m., she’d be lucky to have time to get back to her flat on St Bartholomew’s Road and then find someone to fix her door, or a locksmith to add locks. She also wondered how much it would all cost. She didn’t have bags of money and the small amount of savings she did have was meant to go towards a deposit on a better place. It wasn’t supposed to pay for repairs to an old flat she didn’t even like!

Tom was at the doctors’ desk when she finally found him.

‘Tom. I’m on my break now.’ She fidgeted with the pens in her top pocket and straightened her fob watch.

‘Let’s grab a coffee and a bite to eat.’

He walked her up to the cafeteria and bought both of them a cappuccino. He ordered a grilled breakfast for himself and when he asked her what she wanted she just shook her head. ‘You’ve got to have something.’ He placed a yoghurt and a banana onto his tray and, once he’d paid for it, they settled down at a table.

‘You’re probably wondering what this is about?’

She smiled and watched him tuck into his food with gusto. It did smell delicious and she tried to ignore the gorgeous scent of bacon and what smelt like pork and leek sausage as she opened her peach yoghurt. ‘You’ve got me curious.’

‘I want to help you.’

She sat in the seat opposite, staring at him, waiting for the axe to fall. ‘Okay.’

‘In the interests of my wanting the department to run smoothly, I’d like you to feel you could stay at my place. For an extra day or two whilst you get your flat sorted.’

‘Stay? I thought—’

‘It’s not ideal, I know, but I’ve been thinking about your situation and I would feel remiss if you felt that you had to leave when your circumstances aren’t exactly sorted.’

She blushed. Wow. She had not been expecting that. ‘That’s very generous of you, Tom. Thank you.’

He sipped his coffee. ‘Not generous. I’m just being practical.’

Practical. Right.

Tom saw her face change. The uncertainty and nervousness that had been there a moment before dissipated and surprise and relief manifested themselves instead.

He’d almost been as surprised about the offer himself. If someone had asked him yesterday whether he’d have taken in a waif or stray, he would have said no. If someone had asked him if he would then have offered that beautiful young woman the chance to stay in his own home for a few more days he would have said they were crazy.

Last night he’d felt uncomfortable with her being there. He’d made as little interaction as he could get away with without being rude. But he’d looked out for her, cooked for her, talked to her a little and had found himself intrigued. He was interested by this woman whom he’d suddenly acquired in his department and in his life.

Not that he was interested in her in that way. There was no point in pursuing that. There was only ever one true love, one true soulmate for a person, and he’d already met his, even if she had been taken from him too soon. Meredith had been killed in a tragic accident that had taken her from him before they’d even had their first full year of marriage. His heart had truly belonged to her and now he kept it locked away, safe and protected from the outside world where cruel things happened and people in love were tormented. No, there were going to be no more women for Tom Williams.

They were off-limits. Even if last night he’d been plagued with thoughts of Naomi in the next room. He’d lied to her about getting that good night’s sleep. He should have had seven hours. But instead, he’d lain in his bed, thinking about her, seeing those long legs that had emerged after her bath, gazing into those eyes of hers that he couldn’t bear to look at for longer than a second in case she saw the interest in his own eyes. Oh, and the way that she laughed. The way her whole face lit up with genuine joy when she did.

So he couldn’t allow himself to think about Naomi. She was everything that went against his self-imposed rules. But he could help her with her living situation.

‘This is so unexpected.’

He nodded. ‘Yes. But expecting you to get your place sorted in one night seems both impossible and impractical. St Bartholomew’s Road? It’s not a nice place. I’m sorry. I’m not normally judgemental, but you seem to deserve … better.’

‘And I can stay at yours for the next few days?’

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t believe it! That’s so sweet of you. Are you sure? Don’t you want to know more about me? I mean, I could be a crazy axe murderer, or something.’

‘I know enough. And if you handled an axe on a regular basis, I’m sure you’d be missing a limb or something by now, from what I’ve seen so far. My place is big enough for us both to be able to do our own thing. We won’t get in each other’s way. And then, with a few days’ grace, you can find a better flat. Something more suitable.’

‘Less rough, you mean?’

‘Less … challenging.’ He smiled at her quickly, then looked away. He’d been thinking hard about this all morning. Did he really want to do this? Could he really open up his home to a stranger? It had already been odd having her there in Meredith’s old room. It had been strange knowing she was there doing whatever it was that women did when they spent ages in the bathroom, but … he could arrange it for them so they had different shift patterns so that they wouldn’t be running into each other all the time.

Naomi sat forward and this time sipped her drink, thinking carefully. ‘Why do you want to help me?’

Because I can’t get you out of my head and the idea of you living in that dump terrifies me.

‘Because I think anyone would deserve better.’ He couldn’t tell her it was because he’d actually quite liked seeing her there this morning. He’d liked having someone to talk to, even if it was only briefly, over breakfast. Normally, once he was dressed, he’d head straight out to work, not talking to another soul until he arrived.

This morning had been different and he’d found he liked it. It had been like it had when Meredith was around.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.