A Consultant Claims His Bride

‘But the party’s hardly started,’ he protested, and she shook her head.

‘It’s over as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Oh, come on!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s not like you to walk out on a slap-up buffet.’

His brown eyes were dancing and suddenly it was all too much for her—Brian’s email, her rotten day—and something inside her snapped.

‘You mean I’m a big fat pig who would go anywhere she could stuff her face,’ she retorted. ‘Well, thanks, Jonah. Thanks for nothing.’

The laughter in his eyes died instantly.

‘I didn’t say that,’ he protested. ‘I would never even think it. Look, what’s the matter with you? You’ve been stretched tighter than a wire all day.’

‘Why does there have to be anything the matter with me?’ she demanded, trying to push past him, but it was like trying to move a boulder. ‘Why do I always have to be happy Nell? Can’t I ever feel down, or miserable, or…or just plain fed up?’ Oh, Lord, if she didn’t get out of there soon she was going to burst into tears. ‘Get out of my way, Jonah.’

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ he said.

‘Jonah, if you don’t get out of my way, I swear I’ll stomp on your foot.’

He thrust the glass of wine he was holding into the hands of a startled passing junior doctor, then folded his arms over his chest. ‘Stomp away, Nell, because I’m not moving.’

He meant it. She could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, but she could also see concern on his features, concern and kindness, and the tears she’d been trying so hard to keep in check all day filled her eyes.

‘Take me home, Jonah,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Please. I just want to go home.’

Well, she’d done it now, she thought, seeing his eyes narrow. He was going to want to know why she was in such a state, but to her amazement he didn’t say anything. Not when he tucked his arm under hers and created a pathway for them towards the door. Not even when they travelled down together in the elevator or walked out of the hospital.

‘I’m sorry for shouting at you,’ she said with difficulty when they reached his car. ‘It was wrong of me, and I apologise.’

‘Nell, you don’t need to apologise to me,’ he said. ‘I obviously said something that upset you.’

‘You didn’t. Honestly, you didn’t.’ Tell him. Tell him what’s happened. But she couldn’t. ‘Can we go now?’ she said instead, and after a moment’s hesitation he nodded.

To her relief they drove in silence to her flat, but from the sidelong glances he kept giving her she knew it was only a temporary respite and, sure enough, when he drew his car to a halt, and she reached for the passenger door, he put out his hand to stay her.

‘Can I come in?’ he said. ‘Just for a minute?’

Part of her wanted to say no, that she was tired, that she didn’t want to answer the questions she knew he was going to ask, but the other part also knew she didn’t want be alone in her flat, surrounded by memories of Brian. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the night wondering how she’d screwed up, why he’d found somebody else when he’d said-he’d sworn-he loved her, and so she nodded.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’ she said after she’d unlocked her front door and ushered Jonah into her sitting room. ‘I’ve tea, coffee, or there’s a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge.’

‘A coffee would be good.’

He could have whatever he wanted just as long as he didn’t go, she thought as she went into her kitchen, switched on the percolator, then opened the fridge.

‘Are you sure about the coffee?’ she said, carrying one of the bottles of wine into the sitting room. ‘It won’t take a minute but I thought I’d try some of this. It’s supposed to be very good.’

Leastways, Brian had said it was when he bought it, and as he was never going to drink it now…

‘I’ll stick with coffee as I’m driving,’ he said, but as he watched her open the wine and pour herself a liberal glassful, a frown pleated his forehead. ‘Nell, I’ve known you for two years and this isn’t like you. Something’s clearly upset you and I want to know what it is.’

He wanted to know what it was. Fine, she would give him part of it.

‘My hair…’ She reached up and touched her short, straight bob self-consciously. ‘Jonah, the blonde highlights are fake.’

‘And very nice they look, too,’ he said with a smile as he sat down on the sofa.

‘Jonah, did you hear what I said?’ she said in exasperation. ‘My natural hair colour is brown. Plain, ordinary, mousy brown. The blonde highlights are fake.’

The frown on his forehead reappeared. ‘And what’s that got to do with anything? My sisters change their hair colour so frequently I have to ask them for an update before they visit otherwise I’d never recognise them.’

‘There’s more,’ she said, downing her wine in one gulp. ‘I was thirty-two last month, Jonah. Thirty-two.’

He looked even more puzzled. ‘And I’ll be thirty-six next February. So what?’

‘It doesn’t matter for you,’ she said, sitting down in the armchair opposite him and topping up her glass. ‘You’re a man. No matter how old and wrinkly you get, everyone will simply say you’re mature. I’m a woman and people are soon going to be calling me an old bat.’

He smothered a laugh. ‘Nell, I hardly think being thirty-two makes you an old ba—’

‘Jonah, I’m a thirty-two-year-old, fat, five-foot-nine inch female with dyed hair and boring grey eyes.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he protested. ‘Your hair is lovely, your eyes are beautiful, and you’re not fat. You’re statuesque, curvy.’

‘I’m fat, Jonah,’ she interrupted, ‘and do you want to know something? I hate the way I look. I want to be a size six instead of a size sixteen. I keep going on diets, but…’ she waved her hand expansively, sending part of the wine in her glass sloshing onto the carpet ‘…they don’t work, and you know why they don’t work? Because I cheat. I end up so damned hungry I cheat.’

‘Nell, there is nothing wrong with the way you look,’ Jonah declared. ‘You’re fine just as you are.’

Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffed them back. ‘You’re a good friend, Jonah, a good mate. Are you sure you don’t want some of this wine? It really is very good.’

‘You obviously think it is,’ he said dryly as he watched her empty her glass, ‘but I’m driving, remember? Look, why don’t you phone Brian? I know he’s going to be back in six months, but you’re obviously missing him.’

‘He’s not coming back.’ There, she’d finally said it, and now she had his full attention.

‘You mean he’s staying in the States?’ he said slowly. ‘You’re going out there to join him?’

‘No, I’m not going out there to join him. He…he’s found somebody else. This…’ She stared down at her engagement ring for a second, then pulled it off and put it down on the coffee-table. ‘I shouldn’t be wearing this because he doesn’t want to marry me any more. He wants to marry somebody called Candy, and I…I…’

She couldn’t say any more, and Jonah looked hard at her as she reached for the bottle of wine again.

‘I think you’ve had enough of that.’

‘It beats slashing my wrists,’ she said, striving to sound flippant, but Jonah didn’t seem to find it amusing.

He got to his feet, pulled the wine bottle out of her hand and set it down on the coffee-table beside her engagement ring with a clatter.

‘Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,’ he said, his eyes icy. ‘Not even as a joke. OK, so Brian has found somebody else, but these things happen. Relationships fail—’

‘And I just have to pick myself up and start all over again,’ she finished for him tartly. ‘Well, that’s just dandy, Jonah. That’s just swell, and I’m sure in a few months’ time I’ll be able to think like that, but right now I can’t, OK?’

‘So you’re going to drink yourself into a stupor for the next few months,’ he said as she reached for the bottle again.

‘Sounds good to me,’ she said, and under Jonah’s disapproving gaze she defiantly poured herself another glass and gulped it down.

Actually, she could see now why people got drunk. Your vision became a little blurry, and your head might not feel as though it was completely connected to your body, but it warmed you, relaxed you. In fact, she was so relaxed that Jonah’s disapproval suddenly seemed funny and she started to giggle.

‘Nell, you’ve definitely had enough to drink!’ he exclaimed, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, lighten up, Jonah,’ she said, leaning back in her seat and missing the arm of the chair by a mile.

‘Nell.’

She sighed. ‘All right, all right. If you’re going to be boring, I’ll get us both coffee.’

And she fully intended to do just that, but when she stood up a rush of blood suddenly sped from her legs to her head and before she knew what was happening she’d pitched forward onto the carpet, missing the coffee-table by inches.

‘Nell, are you all right?’

Jonah’s voice was anxious, tense, and she rolled over onto her back and stared fuzzily up at him.

‘Of course I’m all right. Except what are you doing up there while I’m down here?’

He shook his head. ‘I think it’s time you were in bed,’ he said, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

‘Ooh, Jonah, that’s the best offer I’ve had in ages.’

With a sigh he reached to help her up, and she waited for him to put his back out when he tried to lift her, but he didn’t. Never before had she felt small and fragile, but somehow Jonah managed to make her feel both as he lifted her effortlessly up into his arms.

‘My hero.’ She hiccuped as he carried her out of the sitting room. ‘Superman in a white coat. Where are you taking me, Mr Superman?’

‘To your bedroom, if I knew where it was,’ he said.

‘Second door on the right,’ she replied, waving an unsteady hand down the hall. ‘You know, you have lovely hair, Jonah,’ she added, nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck. ‘I never realised you had such lovely hair. Soft, silky. Smells nice, too.’

‘Don’t do that, Nell.’

His voice sounded strained, constricted, and she tickled the hair at the nape of his neck with her fingers and giggled.

‘Why not? It’s nice. You’re nice.’ He muttered something she didn’t catch, and she planted a kiss at the base of his throat, only to feel him jerk his head away. ‘You’re my knight in shining armour, Jonah. My true-blue, always-there knight in shining armour.’

A knight in shining armour who was going to leave, she suddenly realised when they reached her bedroom and Jonah gently began to lower her onto her bed. But she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to lie there all alone, remembering she’d been dumped. She wanted to feel desired, attractive, and before she could rationalise her thoughts, or Jonah could straighten up, she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her.

‘Nell, what the…?’

‘Stay, Jonah,’ she whispered. ‘Stay with me.’

He shook his head, his face unreadable. ‘Nell, you don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I do,’ she insisted. ‘I do. Don’t go. I don’t want you to go.’ And as he opened his mouth, clearly intending to protest, her lips met his and silenced him.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS the insistent ringing of her alarm clock that woke Nell with a start. A ringing that went straight through her skull with all the force of a dentist’s drill.

Gingerly, she tried to sit up, only to lie down again swiftly with a groan as the contents of her stomach lurched up into her throat. She’d never been a drinker and now she remembered why. Two glasses of wine were her limit and she couldn’t begin to count how many she’d had last night. Too many, if her throbbing head and churning stomach were anything to go by.

With an effort she turned on her side, and froze. Two aspirins and a glass of water were sitting on her bedside cabinet. Two aspirins and a glass of water she knew she hadn’t put there yesterday.

Jonah.

‘Oh, God, tell me I didn’t,’ she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as memories of last night began creeping into her mind. ‘Tell me what I’m thinking happened didn’t happen, and it was just a bad dream.’

But it wasn’t. When she lifted her duvet she could see she was still wearing her bra and knickers. At least it was her halfway decent bra and knickers, as opposed to some of her threadbare and tatty underwear, but that didn’t alter the fact that she was still wearing them. That Jonah had taken one look at her all too curvaceous curves and decided he wasn’t interested.

A sob rose in her throat and she put her hand to her mouth to quell it. If there was one thing more humiliating than waking up after a drunken one-night stand, it was waking up to remember that the man you’d thrown yourself at had rejected you.

And she had thrown herself at him. Her brain might be fuzzy but it wasn’t fuzzy enough for her to forget that it had been she who had dragged Jonah down on top of her when he’d lowered her onto her bed. She who had pulled off her shirt and trousers despite his best efforts to prevent her, and she who had kept repeating, ‘Make love to me, Jonah. I want you to make love to me,’ before she’d passed out.

Oh, God.

On the Richter scale of embarrassment it was worse than coming out of the loo not realising you’d tucked your skirt into your knickers. Worse even than asking the man you’d been dating for a while whether your relationship had moved into commitment and realising from the stunned look on his face that it hadn’t.

How was she ever going to be able to face him? For two years they’d been such good friends. They’d laughed together, commiserated with each other, and once she’d even cried on his shoulder after a really bad day, but now…In the space of twenty-four hours she’d not only been dumped by her fiancé she’d also made a complete and utter fool of herself with the one man who had always been there for her in the good times and the bad.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. She’d got herself into this mess, and somehow she had to get herself out of it.

‘I was drunk, Jonah, and didn’t know what I was doing,’ she said out loud, then shook her head, wincing as she did so.

That was insulting. So insulting.

‘Brian had dumped me, and I needed to feel wanted, and I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, so I…’

Worse, that was worse. Neither his pride nor their friendship would survive that amount of honesty.

Somehow she had to come up with a convincing explanation for her behaviour, but what?

Right, Nell thought, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors opened onto the fourth floor of the Belfield Infirmary. It’s plan A. You don’t refer to last night and Jonah will think you don’t remember it, and because he’s a gentleman he won’t remind you. End of story.

It sounded good. Sort of. At least it was better than plan B.

‘Hey, what happened to you last night?’ Fiona called as Nell tried to sneak past her office. ‘One minute you were in the function suite with Liz and me, and the next you were gone.’

‘I was feeling a bit rough so I decided to go home,’ Nell muttered, and Fiona frowned at her.

‘You still don’t look very great,’ she observed, ‘but it was a terrific party, wasn’t it?’

‘The best.’ Nell lied, feeling the dentist’s drill inside her head beginning to intensify. ‘Is…is Jonah in?’

‘Arrived about half an hour ago. Full of beans, too.’

Full of beans.

Did that mean he was laughing at her, laughing at what she’d done? No, of course Jonah wouldn’t laugh. He wasn’t the type. Or at least she didn’t think he was.

‘He left a message for you,’ Fiona continued. ‘Said he’d like a word some time today.’

That didn’t sound good.

‘Did he say what he wanted to talk about?’ Nell asked, determinedly casual, and Fiona shook her head.

‘Maybe he’s still worried about Tommy Moffat.’

That sounded better. Well, not better for little Tommy, but definitely better for her.

‘Jonah’s in Intensive at the moment if you want to see him before you start your shift,’ Fiona continued helpfully, and Nell managed a weak smile.

She didn’t want to see Jonah. She wanted a couple of mugs of black, unsweetened coffee before she went anywhere near the specialist registrar or the unit, but she’d no sooner reached her office than Bea appeared.

‘One newbie admitted at three o’clock,’ the ward sister said, holding out the night staff’s notes to her. ‘Katie Kelly, ten and a half weeks premature, mum and dad’s names are Tricia and Rob.’

‘Anything else?’ Nell asked, gazing longingly at the jar of coffee on her desk and knowing she had as much chance of grabbing a cup as she had of suddenly changing into a five foot nothing, size six film star.

‘Tommy Moffat. Jonah said his BP was all over the place last night.’

Nell’s hand faltered as she reached for her uniform. ‘Jonah was in the unit last night?’

‘He said he had nothing better to do so he thought he’d pop in.’

Oh, ouch, there was only so much honesty a woman wanted to hear, even if it came secondhand.

‘Increase the frequency of Tommy’s obs,’ Nell said with difficulty. ‘If his BP keeps on fluctuating, let me know immediately.’

Bea nodded. ‘Are we still transferring Chloe Wilson and Winston Turner from Special to Transitional today?’

‘Both have been breathing without their ventilators for the past month, and they’re also feeding well with no reflux action so—’

‘They’re almost ready to go home.’ Bea smiled. ‘Don’t you just love being able to tell parents that? It’s what makes working in the NICU so worthwhile.’

It was. Nell knew that some nurses, and quite a few doctors, found the unit unnerving but she had always loved her work. The challenge of keeping the tiny preemies alive, the relief when they started to grow, the joy when they finally left the unit to go home with their parents. Of course, it wasn’ t always like that. There were dark days, grim days, when one of their tiny charges lost their hold on life, but she had never wanted to work anywhere else.

Except today, she realised, after she’d changed into her uniform and Bea led the way into the intensive care section of the unit and she saw Jonah deep in conversation with Callum Nicolson’s mother.

‘Viv’s a bit upset because she still hasn’t been able to express any milk to feed her son,’ Bea murmured as they saw Jonah put his arm around Mrs Nicolson and give her a hug, ‘but he’s good in these situations, isn’t he?’

He was. A lot of doctors possessed the necessary skills to make them proficient neonatologists, but to be a really good one you needed to be able to put yourself into other people’s shoes, to empathise with them, and Jonah could do that with his eyes shut. He was also unexpectedly good at fending off the advances of drunken women, but Nell didn’t want to think about that right now.

‘Is that Rob and Tricia Kelly?’ she asked, seeing a couple she didn’t know standing awkwardly by one of the incubators.

Bea nodded. ‘Jonah’s explained we’re going to have to take it one day at a time, but I think they’re still a bit shell-shocked.’

Nell would have been shell-shocked, too, if one minute she and her husband had been happily asleep in bed and the next she’d gone into labour ten and a half weeks prematurely.

‘This place—it’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?’ Rob said, when Nell walked over to the couple to introduce herself

‘There’s nothing to be frightened of, truly, there isn’t,’ Nell said. ‘Your daughter’s really just in a kind of mini-greenhouse, which will keep her warm and cosy until she’s well enough to cope with the outside world.’

‘But all those wires, all those tubes,’ Tricia said, twisting her dressing-gown belt round in her fingers, her voice uneven. ‘It looks so painful.’

‘Katie needs help with her breathing and feeding, Tricia,’ Nell said gently. ‘We also need to keep an eye on her heart rate and blood pressure. Do you see the monitor up there?’ she continued, pointing to the screen above the incubator. ‘All of Katie’s wires and tubes are linked to it so we can see at a glance how she’s doing.’

She could also see that Jonah was still talking to Callum Nicolson’s mother. Was it her imagination or was he avoiding looking in her direction? No, he was looking at her. Actually, he was staring at her. Probably thinking, Streuth, but that uniform sure hides a multitude of sins.

Stop it, she told herself, just stop it. It’s plan A, remember? You don’t remember last night. Just keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll start to believe it.

‘Sister?’

Tricia Kelly was gazing at her, her eyes very bright, and to Nell’s horror she realised the woman had obviously just asked her something, but she didn’t have a clue what it was. Lord, but now she wasn’t just a drunken slut, she was also completely unprofessional as well.

‘I’m sorry, Tricia,’ she said, her cheeks darkening. ‘I didn’t quite catch…?’

‘I just said I wish I could hold her,’ Tricia replied. ‘If I could hold her, I’d feel…I’d feel she was more mine.’

‘You’ll be able to hold her in a few days,’ Nell said, pulling herself together quickly. ‘At the moment we just want to ensure she’s stabilised, plus—’

‘Plus it can be quite stressful for babies to be touched if they’ve never been held before,’ Jonah chipped in as he joined them. ‘Which, of course, they haven’t because they’ve been safely cocooned in their mumies’ tummies.’

Tricia managed a smile. ‘But won’t I dislodge all those tubes and wires when I’m allowed to hold her?’

Jonah shook his head. ‘They’re all firmly attached and in a few days you won’t even notice them. You’ll be holding and kissing your daughter without a second’s thought.’

He’d kissed her last night, Nell remembered. Or rather, she’d kissed him. Just the once and then he’d wrenched his head away, muttering something unprintable under his breath. It had been a nice kiss, though. Actually, it had been more than nice. It had been…

Unconsciously she shook her head. Booze really screwed up your reasoning powers because, just for a moment when she’d kissed him, she’d felt really odd. Sort of tingly, expectant, almost—

‘Nell?’

Oh, damnation. Now Jonah had obviously asked her something and she didn’t know what that was either. She really was going to have to pull herself together or it wouldn’t be just last night she’d have to worry about. It would be whether she still had a job.

‘It’s Viv Nicolson,’ Jonah murmured, stepping out of earshot of the Kellys. ‘She’s having real problems with the breast pump. I’ve told her the milk will come, but…’ his brown eyes crinkled ‘…I’m at a bit of a disadvantage with not possessing any of the necessary equipment myself, so I wondered if you could have a word, woman to woman.’

‘You know, some people might consider that a very sexist remark,’ she replied, trying and failing to prevent her lips from curving, and he laughed.

‘Guilty as charged, but in this case it’s true.’

‘Yes, but just because I have breasts doesn’t mean I automatically know how to use a breast pump,’ she began, only to immediately wish she hadn’t. Talking about breasts to a man who had seen a lot of hers than he’d probably ever wanted to was not a good idea. ‘I mean…I can try…I’ll do my best.’

And before he could say anything else, she shot off in Viv Nicolson’s direction, determined to lose herself in her work.

It didn’ t help. Nothing helped as the day dragged by. No matter what she did, whether it was trying to reassure Viv that even if she never mastered the breast pump it didn’t matter because formula milk was just as good, or supervising the transfer of Chloe Wilson and Winston Turner to Transitional Care, she knew her mind was only half on her job. One glimpse of Jonah was enough to make her heart slide down into her stomach, and every time he spoke to her she knew she was analysing what he said, looking for hidden references, subtle innuendos.

She was going to go mad if she tried to stick to plan A. It would have to be plan B. Plan B which involved coming clean and apologizing, no matter how toe-curlingly embarrassing it was.