One Autumn Proposal

She ducked into another room then swept past him into the kitchen, while Brad tried to keep his breathing under control. Could he really live in this?

He set down the dog basket on the floor and placed the sleeping Bert inside. His quiet, peaceful dog would probably turn into a possessed, rabid monster in this place.

He sagged down onto the purple sofa that clashed hideously with the brown shag-pile carpet. No wonder this place had been available at a moment’s notice.

He could hear banging and clattering from next door—Cassidy had obviously found the kitchen. He cringed. What colour was avocado anyway? He was too scared to look.

Cassidy reappeared, one of her hands dripping wet, both perched at her waist. ‘Kitchen’s not too bad.’ She swept her eyes around the room again, the smile automatically reappearing on her face. She walked over and sat down on the sofa next to Brad, giving his knee a friendly tap. ‘Well, it has to be said, this place is spotlessly clean. And the shower’s working.’ She lifted her nose and sniffed the air. ‘And it smells as if the carpets have just been cleaned. See—it’s not so bad.’

Not so bad. She had to be joking.

And she was. He could see her shoulders start to shake again. She lifted her hands to cover her face, obviously trying to block out the laughter. His stomach fell even further.

‘What is it?’

He could tell she was trying not to meet his gaze. ‘Go on. What else have you discovered in this psychedelic temple of doom?’ He threw up his hands.

Cassidy stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards her. For a second he was confused. What was she doing? Sure, this had crossed his mind, but what did she have in mind?

She pulled him towards the other room he hadn’t looked at yet—the bedroom. Surely not? He felt a rush of blood to the head and rush of something else to the groin. This couldn’t be happening.

She pushed open the door to the room, turning and giving him another smile. But the glint in her eyes was something else entirely. This was no moment of seduction. This was comedy, through and through.

He stepped inside the bedroom.

Pink. Everywhere and everything. Pink.

Rose-covered walls. A shiny, satin bedspread. Pink lampshades giving off a strange rose-coloured hue around the room. Pink carpet. Dark teak furniture and dressing table. He almost expected to see an eighty-year-old woman perched under the covers, staring at them.

Cassidy’s laughter was building by the second. She couldn’t contain herself. She spun round, her hands on his chest. ‘Well, what do you think? How’s this for a playboy palace?’

His reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her with him, toppling onto the bed, the satin bedspread sliding them along. He couldn’t help it. It was too much for him and for the next few minutes they laughed so hard his belly was aching.

They lay there for a few seconds after the laughter finally subsided. Brad’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling, staring at yet another rose-coloured light shade.

He turned his head to face Cassidy’s. ‘So, tell me truthfully. Do you think this flat will affect my pulling power?’

Cassidy straightened her face, the laughter still apparent in her eyes. She wondered how to answer the question. Something squeezed deep inside her. She didn’t want Brad to have pulling power. She didn’t want Brad to even consider pulling. What on earth was wrong with her? She’d only met this guy today. Her naughty streak came out. ‘Put it this way. This is the first time I’ve lain on a bed with a man, panting like this, and still been fully dressed.’

His eyebrows arched and he flipped round onto his side to face her. ‘Well, Sister Rae, that almost sounds like a challenge. And I like a challenge.’

Cassidy attempted to change position, the satin bedspread confounding her and causing her to slide to the floor with a heavy thud.

Brad stuck his head over the edge of the bed. ‘Cass, are you okay?’

She held up her hand towards him and shook her head. ‘Just feed me.’

Fifty boxes later and another trip back to the hospital, they both sagged on the sofa. Brad pulled a bunch of take-away menus from a plastic bag. ‘I’d take you out for dinner but I don’t think either of us could face sitting across a table right now.’

Cassidy nodded. She flicked through the menus, picking up her favourite. ‘This pizza place is just around the corner and it’s great. They don’t take long to deliver. Will we go for this?’

‘What’s your favourite?’

‘Thin crust. Hawaiian.’

‘Pineapple—on a pizza? Sacrilege. Woman, what’s wrong with you?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me—you’re a meat-feast, thick-crust man?’

He sat back, looking surprised. ‘How did you know?’

‘Because you’re the same as ninety per cent of the other males on the planet. Let’s just order two.’ She picked up the phone, giving it a second glance. ‘Wow, my parents had one of these in the seventies.’ She listened for a dial tone. ‘Never mind, it works.’ She dialled the number and placed the order.

‘So, what do you think of your new home? Will you still be talking to Frank in the morning?’

Brad sighed. ‘I think I should be grateful, no matter how bad the décor is. I needed a furnished flat close by—it’s not like I had any furniture to bring with me—so this will be fine.’ He took another look around. ‘You’re right—it’s clean. That’s the most important thing.’ Then he pointed to Bert in the corner. ‘And if he’s happy, I’m happy.’ The wicked glint appeared in his eyes again. ‘I can always buy a new bedspread—one that keeps the ladies on, instead of sliding them off.’

There it was again. That little twisting feeling in her gut whenever he cracked a joke about other women. For the first time in a lifetime she was feeling cave-woman primal urges. She wanted to shout, Don’t you dare! But that would only reveal her to be a mad, crazy person, instead of the consummate professional she wanted him to think she was.

He rummaged around in a plastic bag at his feet. ‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you any fancy wine to drink. I’ve got orange or blackcurrant cordial.’ He pulled the bottles from the bag. ‘And I’ve got glasses in one of those boxes over there.’

Cassidy reached over and opened the box, grabbing two glasses and setting them on the table. ‘So what’s your story? What are you doing in Scotland?’ And why hasn’t some woman snapped you up already?

‘You mean, what’s a nice guy like me doing in a place like this?’ He gestured at the psychedelic walls.

She shrugged. ‘I just wondered why you’d left Australia. Do you have family there? A girlfriend?’ She couldn’t help it. She really, really wanted to know. She’d wanted to ask if he had a wife or children, but that had seemed a bit too forward. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he hadn’t mentioned any significant other. And he’d been flirting with her. Definitely flirting with her. And for the first time in ages she felt like responding.

‘I fancied a change. It seemed like a good opportunity to expand my experience. Scottish winters are notorious for medical admissions, particularly around old mining communities.’ He paused for a second and then added, ‘And, no, there’s no wife.’ He prayed she hadn’t noticed the hesitation. He couldn’t say the words ‘no children’. He wouldn’t lie about his daughter. But he just didn’t want to go there right now. Not with someone he barely knew.

Cassidy nodded, sending silent prayers upwards for his last words, but fixed her expression, ‘There’s around two and half thousand extra deaths every winter. They can’t directly link them to the cold. Only a few are from hypothermia, most are from pneumonia, heart disease or stroke. And last year was the worst. They estimated nine pensioners died every hour related to the effects of the cold. Fuel payments are through the roof right now. People just can’t afford to heat their homes. Some of the cases we had last year broke my heart.’

Brad was watching her carefully. Her eyes were looking off into the distance—as if she didn’t want him to notice the sheen across her eyes when she spoke. He wondered if she knew how she looked. Her soft curls shining in the dim flat light, most of them escaping from the ponytail band at the nape of her neck. It was clear this was a subject close to her heart—she knew her stuff, but as a sister on a medical receiving unit he would have expected her to.

What he hadn’t expected was to see the compassion in her eyes. Her reputation was as an excellent clinician, with high standards and a strict rulebook for the staff on her ward. But this was a whole other side to her. A side he happened to like. A side he wanted to know more about.

‘So, what’s the story with you, then?’

She narrowed her eyes, as if startled he’d turned the question round on her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What age are you, Cassidy? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?’ He pointed to her left hand. ‘Where’s your other half? Here you are, on a Monday night at …’ he looked at his watch ‘… nearly nine o’clock, helping an orphaned colleague move into his new flat. Don’t you have someone to go to home to?’

Cassidy shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like being put on the spot. She didn’t like the fact that in a few moments he’d stripped her bare. Nearly thirty, single and no one to go home to. Hardly an ad for Mrs Wonderful.

‘I’m twenty-nine, and I was engaged a few years ago, but we split up and I’m happy on my own.’ It sounded so simple when she put it like that. Leaving out the part about her not wanting to get out of bed for a month after Bobby had left. Or drinking herself into oblivion the month after that.

His eyebrows rose, his attention obviously grabbed. ‘So, who was he?’

‘My fiancé? He was a Spanish registrar I worked with.’

‘Did you break up with him?’

The million-dollar question. The one that made you look sad and pathetic if you said no. Had she broken up with him? Or had Bobby just told her he was returning to Spain, with no real thought to how she would feel about it? And no real distress when she’d told him she wouldn’t go with him.

Looking back she wondered if he’d always known she wouldn’t go. And if being with her in Scotland had just been convenient for him—a distraction even.

She took a deep breath. ‘What’s with the questions, nosy parker? He wanted to go home to Spain. I wanted to stay in Scotland. End of story. We broke up. He’s back working in Madrid now.’ She made it sound so simple. She didn’t tell him how much she hated coming home to an empty house and having nobody to share her day with. She didn’t say how whenever she set her single place at the table she felt a little sad. She didn’t tell him how much she hated buying convenience meals for one.

‘Bet he’s sorry he didn’t stay.’

Cassidy’s face broke into a rueful smile and she shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so. He went home, had a whirlwind romance and a few months later married that year’s Miss Spain. They’ve got a little son now.’

She didn’t want to reveal how hurt she’d been by her rapid replacement.

He moved a little closer to her. ‘Didn’t that make you mad? He left and played happy families with someone else?’

Cassidy shook her head determinedly. She’d had a long time to think about all this. ‘No. Not really. I could have been but we obviously weren’t right for each other. When we got engaged he said he would stay in Scotland, but over time he changed his mind. His heart was in Spain.’

Her eyes fell downwards for a few seconds as she drew in a sharp breath, ‘And I’d made it clear I didn’t want to move away. I’m a Scottish girl through and through. I don’t want to move.’

Brad placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘But that seems a bit off. Spain’s only a few hours away on a plane. What’s the big deal?’

Cassidy looked cross. He made it all sound so simple. ‘I like it here. I like it where I live. I don’t want to move to …’ she lifted her fingers in the air ‘… sunnier climes. I want to stay here …’ she pointed her finger to the floor ‘… in Scotland, the country that I love. And I have priorities here—responsibilities—that I couldn’t take care of in another country.’ She folded her arms across her chest.

‘So I made myself a rule. My next other half will be a big, handsome fellow Scot. Someone who wants to stay where I do. Not someone from the other side of the planet.’

The words hung between them. Almost as if she was drawing a line in the sand. Brad paused for a second, trying to stop himself from saying what he really thought. Should he say straight away that he would never stay in Scotland either? That he wanted his life to be wherever his daughter was—and he was prepared to up sticks and go at a moment’s notice?

No. He couldn’t. That would instantly kill this flirtation stone dead. And that’s all this would ever be—a mild flirtation. Why on earth would what she’d just said bother him? He was merely looking for a distraction—nothing more. Something to take his mind off another Christmas without his daughter.

‘Just because someone is from Scotland it doesn’t mean they’ll want to stay here. There have been lots of famous Scots explorers—David Livingstone, for example.’ He moved forward, leaning in next to her. ‘Anyway, that’s a pretty big statement, Cassidy. You’re ruling out ninety-nine per cent of the population of the world in your search for Mr Right. Hardly seems fair to the rest of us.’ He shot her a cheeky grin. ‘Some people might even call that a bit of prejudice.’

‘Yeah, well, at least if I think about it this way, it saves any problems later on. I don’t want to meet someone, hook up with them and fall in love, only to have my heart broken when they tell me their life’s on the other side of the planet from me.’ Been there. Done that. ‘Why set myself up for a fall like that?’

‘Why indeed?’ He’d moved right next to her, his blue eyes fixed on hers. She was right. Cassidy wanted to stay in Scotland. Brad wanted to go wherever in the world his little girl was. A little girl he hadn’t even told her about. Anything between them would be an absolute disaster. But somehow he couldn’t stop the words forming on his lips.

‘But what happens if your heart rules your head?’ Because try as he may to think of her as a distraction, the attraction between them was real. And it had been a long time since he’d felt like this.

She could see every tiny line on his face from hours in the Australian sun, every laughter line around the corners of his eyes. His hand was still resting on her arm, and it was making her tingle. Everything about this was wrong.

She’d just spelled out all the reasons why this was so wrong. He was from Australia. The other side of the planet. He was the worst possible option for her. So why, in the space of a day, was he already getting under her skin? Why did she want to lean forward towards his lips? Why did she want to feel the muscles of his chest under the palms of her hands? He was so close right now she could feel his warm breath on her neck. It was sending shivers down her spine.

She didn’t want this to be happening. She didn’t want to be attracted to a man there was no future with. So why couldn’t she stop this? Why couldn’t she just pull away?

Ding-dong.

Both jumped backwards, startled by the noise of the bell ringing loudly. Even Bert awoke from his slumber and started barking.

Cassidy was still fixed by his eyes, the shiver continuing down her spine. A feeling of awakening. ‘Pizza,’ she whispered. ‘It must be the pizza.’

‘Saved by the bell,’ murmured Brad as he stood up to answer the door. At the last second he turned back to her. A tiny little part of him was feeling guilty—guilty about the attraction between them, guilty about not mentioning his daughter, and completely irritated by her disregard for most of the men in the world.

Her mobile sounded, and Cassidy fumbled in her bag. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured, glancing at the number on the screen.

She stepped outside as he was paying for the pizzas and pressed the phone to her ear. ‘Hi, it’s Cassidy Rae. Is something wrong with my grandmother?’

‘Hi, Cassidy. It’s Staff Nurse Hughes here. Sorry to call, but your gran’s really agitated tonight.’

Cassidy sighed. ‘What do you need me to do?’ This was happening more and more. Her good-natured, placid gran was being taken over by Alzheimer’s disease, at times becoming confused and agitated, leading to outbursts of aggression that were totally at odds with her normal nature. The one thing that seemed to calm her down was hearing Cassidy’s voice—whether over the phone or in person.

‘Can you talk to her for a few minutes? I’ll hold the phone next to her.

‘Of course I will.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Hi, Gran, it’s Cassidy. How are you feeling?’ Her words didn’t matter. It was the sound and tone of her voice that was important. So she kept talking, telling her gran about her day and her plans for the week.

And leaving out the thoughts about the new doctor that were currently dancing around in her brain.

Brad sat waiting patiently. What was she doing? Who was she talking to outside in that low, calm voice? And why couldn’t she have taken the call in here?

More importantly, what was he doing?

Getting involved with someone he worked with hadn’t worked out too great for him the last time. He’d had a few casual dates in the last year with work colleagues, but nothing serious. He really didn’t want to go down that road again.

So what on earth was wrong with him? His attraction to this woman had totally knocked him sideways. Alison had been nothing like this. A few weeks together had proved they weren’t compatible. And the pregnancy had taken them both by surprise. And although his thoughts had constantly been with his daughter, this was the first time that a woman had started to invade his mind.

His brain wasn’t working properly, but his libido was firing on multiple cylinders. Which one would win the battle?

CHAPTER THREE

11 October

CASSIDY’S fingers hammered on the keyboard, responding to yet another bureaucratic email.

‘What’s up, girl?’ As if by magic, Brad was leaning across the desk towards her. ‘You’ve got that ugly frown on your face again. That usually spells trouble for the rest of us.’

Cassidy smiled. For the last ten days, every time she’d turned around he’d been at her elbow. His mood was generally laid-back and carefree, though a couple of times she’d thought he was going to steer a conversation toward something more serious. She turned the computer monitor towards him. ‘Look at this. According to “customer care” principles, we’ve got to answer the ward phone on the third ring.’

‘Since when did our patients become “customers”?’

‘Oh, don’t get me started. I just replied, pointing out that patients are our first priority on the medical unit and I won’t be leaving a patient’s bedside to answer the phone in three rings.’

‘Are you still short-staffed?’ Brad looked around the ward, noting the figures on the ward and trying to work out if everyone was there.

Cassidy pointed to the board. ‘There were seven staff sick last week, but they should all be back on duty either today or tomorrow.’ Her frown reappeared. ‘Why, what are you about to tell me?’

Brad walked around to her side of the desk and wheeled her chair towards him. ‘I was going to invite you to breakfast. It’s Saturday morning, the ward’s pretty quiet, so it seemed like a good time.’ He pulled a face. ‘Plus, those five empty beds you’ve got are about to be filled. I’ve got five patients coming into A and E via the GP on-call service who will all need to be admitted.’

Cassidy stood up. ‘So what’s this, the calm before the storm?’

‘Something like that. Come on.’ He stuck his elbow out towards her. ‘You’ll probably not get time for lunch later.’

Cassidy handed over the keys to one of her staff nurses and headed down to the canteen with Brad.

There was something nice about this. The easy way they’d fallen into a friendship. She’d mentioned her front door was jamming and he’d appeared around at her flat to fix it. Then they’d walked to the Botanic Gardens a few times on days off and taken Bert out in the evenings. Even though they were tiptoeing around the edges of friendship, there was still that simmering ‘something’ underneath.

‘I see you actually managed to put some clothes on today.’ She ran her eyes up and down his lean frame, taking in his trousers and casual polo shirt. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you actually owned any clothes.’

They’d reached the canteen and Brad picked up a tray. ‘It’s a deliberate ploy. If I live my life in scrubs then the hospital does my laundry for me. And I haven’t got my washing machine yet.’

Cassidy nodded. ‘Ah … the truth comes out.’ She walked over to the hot food and lifted a plate. ‘Why didn’t you just say? You could have used my washing machine.’

‘You’d do my washing for me?’

Cassidy shuddered. ‘No. I said you could use my washing machine. I didn’t say I would do it for you. Anyway, that’s one of my rules.’

He watched as she selected a roll, put something inside and picked up a sachet of ketchup.

‘What do you mean—one of your rules?’

She lifted a mug and pressed the button for tea. ‘I have rules. Rules for the ward, rules for life, rules for men and rules for Christmas.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay, now you’ve intrigued me. Either that, or you’re a total crank—which is a distinct possibility.’ He picked up his coffee. ‘So, I’m interested. I know about the rules for the ward but tell me about these rules for men.’

She handed over her money to the cashier and sat down at a nearby table. ‘They’re simple. No overseas men.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that one. And I’m not impressed. What else?’

‘No washing. No ironing. No picking up after them. I’m not their mother. Do it a few times and they start to expect it. I get annoyed, then I start picturing them as Jabba the Hut, the fat, lazy monster from Star Wars, and yadda, yadda, yadda.’ She waved her hand in the air.

‘I was right. You are a crank.’ He prodded her roll. ‘And what is that? Everyone around here seems to eat it and I’ve no idea what it is.’

‘It’s slice.’

‘Slice? A slice of what?’

‘No. That’s what it’s called—slice. It’s square sausage.

A Scottish delicacy.’

‘That’s not a sausage. That looks nothing like a sausage.’

‘Well, it is. Want to try a bit?’ She held up her roll towards him.

He shook his head. ‘That doesn’t look too healthy. Apart from the pizza the first night I met you, you seem to spend your life eating salads or apples. I’ve never even seen you eat the sweets on the ward.’

‘But this is different. This is Saturday morning. This is the bad-girl breakfast.’ She had a twinkle in her eye as she said it.

Brad moved closer, his eggs abandoned. ‘Should I keep a note of this for future reference?’

There it was again—that weird little hum that seemed to hang in the air between them. Making the rest of the room fall silent and fade away into the background. Making the seconds that they held each other’s gaze seem like for ever.

But he kind of liked that. He kind of liked the fact that she didn’t seem to be able to pull her gaze away any more than he could. He kind of liked the fact that once he was in the vicinity of Cassidy, his brain didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything else. And from right here he could study the different shades of brown in her eyes—some chocolate, some caramel, some that matched her chestnut hair perfectly.

Whoa! Since when had he, Brad Donovan, ever thought about the different shades of colour in a woman’s eyes? Not once. Not ever. Until now. Where had his brain found the words ‘chocolate’, ‘caramel’ and ‘chestnut’?

‘Maybe you should.’ The words startled him. There it was again, something in the air. The way at times her voice seemed deeper, huskier, as if she was having the same sort of thoughts that he was.