French Fling To Forever

‘No, dear. You do what you have to.’ Like a professional blood donor, Mrs Jackson held out her arm and tapped on a raised blue vein. ‘That’s where they usually go for.’

The translucent skin was already punctuated with fading bruises from similar procedures. Lola cleansed the area with a wipe, grateful that she wouldn’t have to put this lovely lady through the ordeal of chasing a suitable site to insert the needle.

‘I think you could get yourself a job here,’ Lola said as she tightened the tourniquet around the upper arm.

‘Ach, away with you. I could never put in the hours you youngsters do. Sure, when would you ever find time to catch yourself a husband? Unless you’re waiting for one of those handsome male doctors to sweep you off your feet?’

The inquisitive patient brought an uninvited picture of the suave Henri Benoit into Lola’s head. Even there he looked smug that she was thinking about him.

‘If you could just make a fist for me that would be great. Now, you’ll feel a little scratch,’ Lola said as she inserted the needle and let the woman’s last question fall without an answer.

Thankfully she had managed to avoid said handsome doctor and the embarrassment of that evening thus far. So why did her senses conspire and refuse to let her forget him? The sound of his accent, the smell of his aftershave and the memory of his rarely seen smile wouldn’t leave her. It was a godsend that their hands had only touched briefly or she would surely have ended up a victim of sensory overload.

She tried desperately hard not to think about taste.

Since that final humiliation at the club, he was the last person she would turn to for help. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her inadequacy in action. Regardless of how many times she carried out standard procedures confidently and correctly, she couldn’t shake off that look of disappointment he’d given her. Her fender bender in the car park had been the only time she’d witnessed the scowl slip from the registrar’s face and the smile had somehow been worse. It had made him human, showed a softer side to him, and it had made her want to impress him so she could see it again.

‘Could you hold that cotton wool for me there, Mrs Jackson?’ Lola withdrew the needle and the helpful patient dabbed the spot of blood left behind. ‘Now, you rest until we find a bed for you on the ward, and I’ll get these sent off.’

‘Thank you, dear.’ The previously animated pensioner lay back, flattening her head of white curls into the pillows, and showed the first signs of fatigue.

Lola vowed to take all the necessary steps to get Mrs Jackson rehydrated and back on her feet as she returned to the nurses’ station—and walked into a flurry of activity.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked Jules, who was passing by in the herd of medics apparently gearing up for something more serious than an old dear having a turn.

‘Emergency call. Ambulance is on the way with a patient in cardiac arrest.’

As Jules chewed on her pen Lola could see her body thrumming with anticipation for the arrival. Maybe it was the extra year’s experience Jules had over her, but Lola hadn’t quite reached that stage of life-or-death excitement.

‘Would you care to join us, Dr Roberts?’

Apparently it took the invitation to be issued in a French accent to get her pulse racing.

‘Pardon?’ She turned to face Dr Benoit, incredulous that he had asked her to participate as if he was issuing an invitation to dinner.

‘I’m sure they can spare you from treating minor cases for a while, and I think the experience will be good for you.’

He barely glanced in her direction and carried on flicking through his notes. A prod of disappointment poked Lola in the abdomen as he dropped back into aloof doctor mode. A far cry from her sparring partner in the car park, but at least she knew where she stood with this version of Henri Benoit—and she wouldn’t let him get the better of her.

Lola lifted her chin to meet the challenge. ‘I would love to join the team.’

Equipment gathered in preparation, the assembled medical staff waited for the starting pistol, ready to get off the blocks, whilst Lola willed her limbs to stop shaking. The paramedics slammed through the door and galvanised everyone else into action.

Here we go.

‘On the count of three.’ Henri took charge as they surrounded the trolley. ‘One, two, three.’

Between the paramedics and the doctors the seemingly lifeless body of an overweight middle-aged man was transferred from the stretcher onto the bed and hooked up to a bank of monitors.

‘Get a line in, please, Lola,’ Henri instructed.

With a very small chance of bringing the patient back, there was no room for her to freeze or panic.

‘Starting CPR,’ Henri announced, starting chest compressions.

Lola’s scrubs clung to her suddenly clammy skin as she fought to insert the cannula. They needed it to inject adrenaline and try to restart the heart, and he had tasked her with the important job. Thankfully, with Henri pumping the chest to get blood and oxygen flowing around the body again, he made it possible for her to find a vein.

‘I’m in.’ She managed to keep the relief from her voice in a room full of people who did this every day of the week.

‘Get the paddles on. Do we have a shockable rhythm?’

Henri’s voice carried above all other noise and she focused on it alone to guide her through what was happening.

‘Everyone stand back. Shock delivered. One milligram of adrenaline in. Stop for rhythm, please.’

They paused and listened for signs of life. Nothing. More chest pumps, more adrenaline and more shocks were delivered by the defibrillator to kick-start the heart—until he uttered the words she longed to hear.

‘He’s back.’

Lola stood back in awe as Henri’s cool command brought a dead man back to life, indicated by the steady blip of his pulse on the screen.

Once the patient was stabilised Henri addressed the team. ‘Good job, everyone. Lola, you too. You can go back to what you were doing.’

That commanding tone had turned softer, something she was unaccustomed to, and it was a wonder she heard it above the pounding of blood in her ear as the last minutes caught up with her.

Unable to speak, she flashed him a grateful smile and made her way out of the resuscitation room. The less frantic corridor outside was a welcome respite from the drama, and Lola took a minute to catch her breath. Only now did the reality hit her that she had played a part in saving a man’s life. With no time to worry over who was watching as she administered the adrenaline, she had acted on pure instinct and skill.

A hand rested on her shoulder and forced Lola to concentrate on not collapsing onto the polished floor.

‘Are you okay?’

Henri’s brown eyes bored into hers until she felt her feet gradually slipping from under her.

He directed her to a seat. ‘Here, sit down.’

‘I’m fine. Really,’ she insisted, wanting him to disappear as quickly as he’d arrived and leave her to stew in her own embarrassment.

‘It is okay to have a little wobble.’

His pronunciation of that last word sounded so ridiculous for the sophisticated doctor she felt better already.

‘These things—they are intense and difficult to handle at the beginning, but you did your job. You were part of the team that brought him back and you should be proud of yourself, Lola. Now, take five minutes and get yourself a cup of tea whilst it’s quiet.’

As he left her Lola couldn’t be sure if it was the first sign of compassion from him or his continued use of her first name that had sent another bolt of adrenaline to bring her own body back to life.

On doctor’s orders she soon found herself in the canteen, paying for a cure-all cuppa. Her first time as part of the resus team had left her a little shaky on her feet, so she couldn’t wait to sit down and take a time-out.

A ‘Bonjour!’ much too cheery for it to have come from her superior greeted her in the seating area. The familiar figure of her burlesque instructor waved her over to a table in the corner.

‘Come and join us. I didn’t know you worked here. I take it you and Henri know each other?’

Angelique, dressed more conservatively than the last time Lola had seen her, directed her to a seat. She was accompanied by a teenage girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to Henri and his other half. It was unfair that one family had hogged all the would-look-good-in-a-bin-bag genes.

Naturally any child with that combination of DNA in her genetic make-up was bound to be a beauty, but she’d clearly been in the wars. Her otherwise clear skin was marred by a series of angry red abrasions across her cheek, whilst the beginnings of a purple bruise ringed her right eye.

‘You could say that. I’ve just started my placement in A&E. I’m Lola, by the way.’ She introduced herself to the Benoit mini-me as she sat down with her tea.

‘Gabrielle,’ the girl mumbled, in that barely comprehensible manner all teenagers used in the presence of strangers.

‘Are you here to see Henri?’

‘Yes, but they told us he’s busy with a patient. We’ll just have to wait until he comes home to speak to him.’ Angelique shifted restlessly in her seat, clearly more bothered about not seeing him than she was willing to let on.

‘We were dealing with an emergency admission downstairs, but I’m sure he’ll be free soon. Is there anything I can help you with in the meantime? If you want I can take you down after this and take a look at those cuts on your face?’

Lola turned her attention to the young girl, with her head bowed as she played with the food on her plate, a curtain of raven hair now falling over her face to hide the marks from view.

‘That won’t be necessary, thanks. The school nurse cleaned Gabrielle up before they phoned me to collect her. It’s nothing serious, but they don’t take any chances these days.’

Angelique’s fidgety hands on the table gave away her real concern, and Lola thought perhaps she was simply being polite and didn’t want to bother her.

‘It’s no trouble. As you say, it’s better to be safe than sorry.’ Besides, she was sure Henri wouldn’t take too kindly to finding out his daughter had been sent away without some sort of examination.

‘I’m fine. I tripped and fell in the playground—it’s not a big deal.’ The surly teen rested back on her chair, arms folded across her chest, practically daring Lola to disagree.

‘Honestly, that’s not even why we’re here. We have a cake emergency that requires immediate attention. So, unless you know someone who can whip up a dinosaur-themed birthday cake in twenty-four hours, I’m afraid you can’t help.’

A diplomatic Angelique stepped in to change the subject to one even closer to Lola’s heart than her job.

‘Whose birthday is it?’

‘My son’s. Bastien will be six tomorrow, and he’s decided at the last minute that the only thing he wants is a dinosaur cake. I can’t find one in the supermarkets, and bakeries need more notice than I can give. I was hoping to brainstorm with Henri—or get him to take a crash course in baking.’

The stressed mother let out a sigh as she planted an image in Lola’s brain of the usually suave doctor up to his elbows in flour.

‘I’ve been known to do a bit of baking myself.’

That was like saying Beyoncé did a bit of singing. The kitchen was Lola’s natural habitat, and where she went to unwind at the end of the day. She didn’t usually do commissions, but she’d made all manner of themed cakes for her brothers over the years. Where money had been scarce, imagination had been plentiful. A dinosaur might be fun.

‘Are you saying you could do it?’ This time Gabrielle appeared to be totally enamoured by her new acquaintance, her dark eyes shining with excitement.

Lola understood the love a sister had for a brother, and the need to see him happy even when he could be a royal pain in the butt at times.

‘Maybe…I mean, I’m no expert or anything…’ She knew she was capable of doing it, but those doubts crept in that her standards mightn’t be good enough for a third party.

‘I don’t care if it’s nothing more than a blob with eyes and scales, as long as I have something to give him. You’re a lifesaver. Now, if you could have it ready by tonight, I can send Henri to get it. How much do you need for supplies, et cetera?’

Angelique began to rifle in her handbag, immediately dampening Lola’s spirit. She baked out of love—not for financial gain.

‘Whoa! I haven’t agreed to do it yet. What if Henri doesn’t want me involved? He sees enough of me here.’

There was also the matter of Lola not being thrilled with the idea of crossing paths with him again outside of work. She’d only just sorted out the last mess she’d made—with Jake’s help. He’d stepped in and dealt with the aftermath of the fender bender so she didn’t have to.

‘It’s not Henri’s call.’

Lola didn’t want to end up in the middle of a domestic dispute, especially when she really didn’t know these people.

She drained her cup and stood to leave, hoping they would follow suit. ‘Why don’t we check with him anyway, before we make any definite plans?’

Henri probably wouldn’t deny the child his birthday wish, but Lola couldn’t afford to stuff things up again. As far as she was concerned this was his call.

Henri might have broken his vow to keep his distance from the pink princess after his lapse at the club, but it was worth it if his interference today had boosted her confidence even a fraction.

He knew Lola’s capabilities were there, if she could just stop overthinking her every move. Whilst her job meant being able to assess a situation, it also meant being decisive. Aside from her fine display of booty-shaking, today was the first time he had seen her act without second-guessing herself. If a push out of her comfort zone was what it took to make a doctor out of her, then as her superior he felt obliged to continue. It was absolutely nothing to do with him getting a kick out of seeing her fired up.

Once Henri had made sure his coronary patient was stable he went to his office to strip off his scrub top. He could shower at home, but for now a clean shirt would help peel away the layers of stress from the day.

I know there’s one in here somewhere.

He pulled open drawer after drawer, until a light tap on the office door interrupted his shirt search.

‘Come in.’

‘Dr Benoit…’ Lola’s voice trailed off as she caught him half-naked. Her wide eyes registered his state of undress, then shot towards the floor, the ceiling—anywhere but his bare chest.

‘What is it?’ he snapped, miffed by her visual dismissal. A white T-shirt rolled up at the back of his bottom drawer saved him from self-doubt and he pulled it on over his head.

‘Angelique and Gabrielle are here. I…er…thought you would want to know.’

She scuttled away but Henri caught up and grabbed her arm.

‘Where are they? Is something wrong?’

Lola let out a yelp and wrestled out of his grasp. ‘They’re outside. Gabrielle has taken a tumble at school, but insists she’s fine, and Angelique wants to talk to you about Bastien’s birthday. I’m just making sure you aren’t too busy to see them.’

Lola backed away, rubbing the skin on her arm where he’d grabbed her.

Henri immediately regretted being so rough. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but the thought of the girls in trouble had made him act without thinking.

‘I always have time for my family.’

‘In that case I’ll show them in.’ Lola frowned at him, making no attempt to hide her displeasure at his behaviour, and rightly so.

‘Thank you, and…er…sorry about—’ He gestured towards her arm when he realised Sorry for manhandling you would sound totally inappropriate.

‘It’s okay.’ She managed a half smile before she opened the door to let Angelique in.

Gabrielle followed her mother inside and Henri spotted the red marks crisscrossing her pale skin. Emotion overwhelmed him once again. ‘What the hell happened?’

‘It’s just superficial,’ the rational voice of his junior assured him, even though he could see that for himself.

It didn’t stop him from worrying.

‘Gabrielle? How did this happen to you?’

His niece gave an exaggerated tut. ‘I keep telling everyone it’s no big deal. I fell over. End of story.’

Henri knew he wasn’t getting the whole picture when she turned her face towards the wall and refused to look at him.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Angelique’s shake of the head, meant only for him—an indication that he wasn’t to pursue the matter any further. It wasn’t in his nature to stand idly by and pretend things was okay when they blatantly weren’t, but in parental matters he had to defer to his sister.

‘At least get a cold compress for that eye to stop the swelling.’

‘I’ll do it when I get home.’ An eye roll accompanied the insinuation that he was being a fusspot.

‘I actually wanted to talk to you about Bastien’s birthday. He’s changed his mind about a pirate party and decided he wants a dinosaur cake instead.’

The uncle/niece stand-off ended with Angelique’s intervention and a completely different tangent in the conversation.

Now Henri was the one rolling his eyes. His young nephew changed his mind more often than Angelique changed costumes. The never-ending parade of after-school activities as he bored easily with one and moved on to the next attested to that. There wasn’t time for a dull moment with him around, and Henri’s life was the better for it. Without his sister and the kids to occupy his thoughts he’d probably be just another self-absorbed playboy, like so many he’d met in the profession.

‘Surely that’s an easy fix and not one that warrants Dr Roberts’s time?’ Lord knew what Lola must think, being called away from her patients to deal with trivial family matters. Especially when he’d called her out on her first day of placement for doing exactly the same thing.

‘Not as straightforward as you might think at such short notice, and Lola has offered to help out. She thought we should get your approval before moonlighting as our personal cake decorator.’

There was definitely more than a hint of sarcasm there as his big sister was forced to change the dynamics of their relationship by asking his permission to do anything. Lola stood quietly waiting for his approval and he got the impression she’d been strong-armed into helping.

‘You dance and bake?’

He was learning something new about her every day. Probably more than he should. Events seemed to be conspiring against him—and his rule about not fraternizing with his A&E colleagues outside of work. He had doctor friends, of course, but he preferred not to muddy the waters between himself and the junior staff.

Apart from friendships becoming strained when he had to exert his authority at work, there was also the temporary nature of their position here. There was little point in forging new relationships which detracted from his family responsibilities only for them to move on to their next placement. Not that he was anticipating spending any more time with Lola than was normal—she just seemed to be there, everywhere he turned.

‘I do one much better than the other.’

The woman in question flushed pink as she underplayed her talents, but Henri had seen her in action.

‘Well, I know you can dance…’ He watched the bloom rise in her cheeks at the reminder that he’d seen her moves in all their glory.

Until that moment when he’d witnessed Lola giving herself over to the music he’d never seen the beauty of burlesque. Thus far it had represented everything he hated about life after his parents’ deaths—the financial struggle and the guilt he harboured for being Angelique’s responsibility when she was nothing more than a kid herself. That perception had altered when he’d watched burlesque empower a shy doctor before his eyes. It had brought Henri some understanding of his sister’s insistence that she danced for no one but herself.

If it hadn’t been for Angelique coughing, Henri might have forgotten he and Lola weren’t alone in the room.

‘So, Lola can make the cake and you will pick it up from her house tonight, Henri—yes?’

‘Wait…what?’

‘Great. You two can sort out the details and Gabrielle and I will go and buy the rest of the party supplies. Thanks again for offering to help out.’

Angelique swallowed Lola into her embrace in that gregarious manner which made it impossible to say no to the woman. The mere mention of culinary skills and Henri’s unassuming colleague would have been a lamb to the slaughter in her presence. And even he now found himself roped into paying Lola an out-of-hours visit when it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Still, it wouldn’t do to make a scene and have her think there was an issue. It was simply a matter of keeping his nephew happy. He’d have a discreet word with his sister later, about not putting him into compromising positions with his staff in future.

Lola watched open-mouthed as the French tornado blasted back out through the door, taking her offspring with her and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Henri was frozen to the spot, probably wondering what the hell he’d agreed to. Somehow Lola’s offer to bake a cake had led to an appointment with Henri at her apartment. Her safe haven was about to be breached by the one man who could bring her temper to a boil with one flick of a switch.

Without Angelique’s huge personality to fill the room Lola found herself alone with Henri in his tight white T-shirt. Although she was off men for the foreseeable future, it didn’t mean she was immune to fine man candy. She could still picture his half-naked body when she’d walked in earlier—the speed bump abs and the trail of dark hair dipping from his navel into the waistband of his trousers, reminding her that he had the body to match the hint of sexy in his eyes.

It was enough to give her the vapours, trying to match the creases in his shirt with the defined muscles she’d only caught a glimpse of.

An awkward silence ticked between them as Lola played a game of hide and seek with his abs. At some point she was either going to have to make conversation or ask him for a quick flash to get reacquainted with his six-pack. She chose the option less likely to start a cat fight with his significant other.

‘If you have a pen and paper to hand, I’ll write my address down for you.’

‘Of course.’ Henri, too, snapped back to life and scrabbled on his desk for the requested stationery. ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been inconvenienced. Angelique takes no prisoners, I’m afraid.’

‘It’s all right. What kind of person would I be to leave the birthday boy without a dinosaur cake? Anyway, I should think this makes us even now. I hit your car—I bake you a cake. Debt repaid.’

After this there was no reason for either of them to venture into each other’s social territory, or for her to ogle her registrar again. The image of him stripped to the waist was imprinted on her brain for ever anyway.

She handed him the piece of paper with her hastily scribbled address. ‘I’ll need a couple of hours after work to get it done. Shall we say eight o’clock?’

Her steady voice belied her insides as they danced a jig at the thought of him waiting on her doorstep. She wasn’t particularly relishing explaining it all to Jules, either.

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