One Autumn Proposal

But what did she think about all this? Was he merely a distraction? After all, she didn’t want a man from the other side of the world; she wanted a Scotsman. And he clearly wasn’t that. So why was she even flirting with him?

But now her eyes were cast downwards, breaking his train of thought. There was a slight flush in her cheeks. Was she embarrassed? Cassidy didn’t seem the bashful type. Maybe she was having the same trouble he was—trying to make sense of the thoughts that seemed to appear as soon as they were together.

He didn’t like silence between them. It seemed awkward, unnatural for two people who seemed to fit so well together.

He picked up his fork and started eating his eggs. ‘So, tell me about the Christmas rules?’

Cassidy sat back in her chair, a huge smile appearing on her face in an instant. Her eyes went up towards the ceiling. ‘Ah, Christmas, best time of year. I love it, absolutely love it.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘There are lots of rules for Christmas. You need to have a proper advent calendar, not the rubbish chocolate kind. You need the old-fashioned kind with little doors that open to pictures of mistletoe and holly, sleighs, presents and reindeer. Then your Christmas tree needs to go up on the first of December.’ She pointed her finger at him. ‘Not on the twelfth or Christmas Eve, like some people do. You need to get into the spirit of things.’

‘Should I be writing all this down?’

‘Don’t be sarcastic. Then there’s the presents. You don’t put them under the tree. That’s a disaster. You bring them out on Christmas Eve.’

Brad was starting to laugh now. The enthusiasm in her face was brimming over, but she was deadly serious. ‘Cassidy, do you still believe in Santa Claus?’

She sighed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas Grinch. There’s no room for them in my ward.’

The Christmas Grinch. Actually, for the last few years, it would have been the perfect name for him. It was hard to get into the spirit of Christmas when you didn’t know where your little girl was. Whether she was safe. Whether she was well. Whether she was happy. Cassidy did look literally like a child at Christmas. This was obviously her thing.

He tried to push the other thoughts from his mind. He was trying to be positive. This year he wasn’t going to fall into the black hole he’d found himself in last year, dragged down by the parts of his life he couldn’t control.

‘Any other Christmas rules you need to tell me?’

‘Well, there’s all the fun stuff. Like trying to spot the first Christmas tree someone puts up in their window. I usually like to try and count them as I walk home from work every day. Then trying to guess who has got your name for the secret Santa at work. And the shops—I love the shops at Christmas. The big department store on Buchanan Street has the most gorgeous tree and decorations. They’ll be up in a few weeks. You have to go and see them. And there will be ice skating in George Square. We have to go to that!’

‘But it’s still only October. We haven’t had Hallowe’en yet.’ Brad took a deep breath. He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.

‘We celebrate Christmas in Australia, too, you know. It might be a little different, but it’s every bit as good as it sounds here. Where I live in Perth, everyone has Christmas lights on their houses. We have a huge Christmas tree in Forrest Place that gets turned on every November. Okay—maybe the temperature is around forty degrees and we might spend part of the day on the beach. But it’s still a fabulous time. I’m gutted I won’t be there this year.’

He was pushing his Christmas memories aside, and curiosity was curling at the bottom of his stomach. Little pieces of the puzzle that was Cassidy Rae were clicking into place. ‘Have you ever celebrated Christmas anywhere else?’

Cassidy shook her head fiercely. ‘I couldn’t for a minute imagine being anywhere other than here at Christmas. Sometimes it even snows on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Then it’s really magical.’

Brad frowned. ‘Didn’t you even celebrate Christmas in Spain with your fiancé?’

Cassidy looked at him as if he had horns on his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Surely it doesn’t matter where you celebrate Christmas—it’s about who you celebrate with. It’s the people, Cass, not the place.’ He willed his voice not to break as he said the words. She would have no idea how much all this hurt him.

Cassidy was still shaking her head, and Brad had the distinct feeling he’d just tiptoed around the heart of the matter. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to leave. She wouldn’t even consider moving anywhere else.

In some circumstances it might seem fine, patriotic even. But it irritated Brad more than he wanted to admit. How could Cass be so closed-minded? Was this really why she wouldn’t even consider a relationship with him? Not that he’d asked her. But every day they were growing closer and closer.

Why hadn’t he told her about Melody yet? The most important person in his life and he hadn’t even mentioned her existence. He’d heard from his lawyer yesterday. Still no news. Still no sign. America was a big place. They were searching every state to see if Alison had registered as a doctor, though by now she could be married and working under a different name. If that was the case, they might never find her. And that thought made him feel physically sick.

His brain was almost trying to be rational now. Trying to figure out why Alison hadn’t contacted him.

He was a good father—committed to Melody and her upbringing. He’d wanted a say in everything and that had kind of spooked Alison, who liked to be in control. And if she’d really met someone and fallen in love, he could almost figure out why she’d done things this way.

If she’d told him she wanted to move to the US, there would have been a huge custody battle. But to steal his daughter away and let eighteen months pass with no contact? That, he couldn’t understand—no matter what.

He almost wanted to shout at Cassidy, It’s the people, Cass—always the people. He couldn’t care less where he was in this world, as long as he was near his daughter.

His mind flickered back to the four tightly packed boxes stuffed in the bottom of the wardrobe in his bedroom. Eighteen months of his life, with a private investigator in Australia and one in the US. Eighteen months when almost all his salary had gone on paying their fees and jumping out of his skin every time the phone rang.

No one could keep living like that. Not even him. It destroyed your physical and mental health. So he’d tried to take a step back, get some normality back into his life. He was still looking for his daughter and still had a private investigator in the US. But now he didn’t require a daily update—an email once a week was enough. And the PI was under strict instructions to phone only in an emergency.

He looked at the woman across the table. He still couldn’t get to the bottom of Cassidy Rae. She’d received another one of those phone calls the other day and had ducked out the ward, talking in a low, calm voice.

What on earth was going on?

Cassidy stared across the table. Maybe she’d gone a little overboard with the Christmas stuff. She always seemed to get carried away when the subject came up. It looked as if a shadow had passed across Brad’s eyes. Something strange. Something she didn’t recognise. Was it disappointment? She drew her breath in, leaving a tight feeling in her chest. She didn’t like this.

But she didn’t know him that well yet. She didn’t feel as if she could share that it was just her and her gran left. And she wanted to hold on to what little family she had left. Of course Christmas was about people—even if they didn’t know you were there.

She reached across the table and touched his hand. Every single time she touched him it felt like this. A tingle. Hairs standing on end. Delicious feelings creeping down her spine. The warmth of his hand was spreading through her.

He looked up and gave her a rueful smile, a little sad maybe but still a smile.

‘Let’s talk about something else. Like Hallowe’en. We usually have a party for the staff on the ward. I had it in my flat last year, but I think yours would be the perfect venue this time.’

Brad’s smile widened. He looked relieved by the change of subject. ‘I guess a Hallowe’en party wouldn’t be out of the question in the House of Horrors.’

‘It’s not a House of Horrors. Why don’t we just tell people we’ve got a theme for the year? It could be Hallowe’en-slash-fancy-dress, 1960s-style?’

He nodded slowly. ‘I suppose we could do that. Are you going to help me with the planning?’

‘Of course.’ Cassidy stood up and picked up her plate and mug, ‘Come on, it’s time to go back upstairs. We can talk about it as we go.’

He watched her retreating back and curvy behind. One thing was crystal clear. This woman was going to drive him crazy.

30 October

Brad opened the door as yet another party reveller arrived. Bert had retreated to his basket, now in Brad’s pink bedroom, in sheer horror at the number of people in the small flat. It seemed that inviting the ‘medical receiving unit’ to a party also included anyone who worked there, used to work there or had once thought about working there.

It also included anyone who’d ever passed through or seen the sign for the unit.

‘Love the outfit!’ one of the junior doctors shouted at Brad. He looked down. Cassidy had persuaded him to go all out, and his outfit certainly reflected that. The room was filled with kipper ties, psychedelic swirls, paisley patterns, and mini-skirts and beehives. For the men, stick-on beards seemed to be the most popular choice, with lots of them now sticking to arms, foreheads and chests.

Brad pushed through the crowd to the kitchen, finding an empty glass and getting some water. It was freezing outside, but inside the flat he almost felt as if he were back in Perth. He’d turned the cast-iron radiators off, but the place was still steaming, even with the windows prised open to let the cold air circulate.

He felt someone press at his back. ‘Sorry, it’s a bit of a squash in here.’ He recognised the voice instantly.

‘Where have you been? Wow!’ Cassidy had helped him carry all the food and drink for the party up to the flat. Then she’d disappeared to get changed. His eyes took in her short red Star Trek dress, complete with black knee-high boots and gold communicator pinned to her chest. She pressed the button. ‘How many to beam aboard?’

‘You didn’t tell me we were doing TV. Not fair. How come you get to look smart and sexy and I get to look like some flea-bitten wino?’

She laughed and moved forward. ‘I’m still in the sixties. The first episode of Star Trek was screened in 1966. I’m in perfect time.’

Someone pressed past her and she struggled to keep her glass of wine straight, moving so close to Brad that their entire bodies were touching. Her eyes tilted upwards towards him. ‘I kind of like your too-tight shirt and shaggy wig. It suits you in a funny way.’

‘Well, that outfit definitely suits you. But I feel as if you’ve fitted me up. I bet you had that sexy fancy-dress outfit stashed somewhere and were just looking for an excuse to give it an outing.’ His broad chest could feel her warm curves pushing against him.

‘You think I look sexy?’ Her voice was low again and husky. Her words only heard by him. Someone else pushed past and she moved even closer in the tiny kitchen. ‘How many to beam aboard?’

They jumped. Startled by the noise. Brad grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door, past the people in the sitting room dancing to Tom Jones and the Beatles, and into the pink bedroom, pushing the door closed behind them.

Cassidy let out a little gasp. The pink shiny bedspread was gone, replaced by a plain cotton cream cover and pillowcases. But the dark pink lampshades hadn’t been replaced, leaving a pink glow around the room. ‘Too many people falling off your bed?’

He pulled the wig from his head, revealing his hair sticking up in all directions. ‘Now, why would you think that?’ There was a smile on his face as he stepped closer, pushing her against the door. His eyes were fixed on hers. His hand ran up her body, from the top of her boot, touching the bare skin on her legs, past the edge of her dress to her waist.

‘Why would something like that even occur to you, Cass? Why would it even enter your mind? Because you keep telling me that we’re friends. Just friends. You don’t want anything more—not with someone like me, someone from Australia.’ Or someone with a missing child.

Cassidy’s heart was thudding against the inside of her chest. From the second he’d closed the door behind them she’d been picturing this in her head. No. Not true. From the first day that she’d met him she’d been picturing this in her head. It had taken her two glasses of wine to have the courage to come back to his flat tonight.

The tension had built in the last few weeks. Every lingering glance. Every fleeting touch sending sparks fluttering between them. It didn’t matter how much her brain kept telling her he was the wrong fit. Her body didn’t know that. And it craved his touch.

This wasn’t meant to be serious. Serious had been the last thing on her mind—particularly with a man from overseas. But even though she tried to push the thoughts aside, Brad was rapidly becoming more than just a friend. She loved the sexual undercurrent between them, and the truth was she wanted to act on it. Now.

She leaned forward, just a little. Just enough to push her breasts even closer to him. If he looked down, all he would be able to see now was cleavage. ‘How many to beam aboard?’ The noise startled both of them, but Brad only pulled her closer. She reached up and pulled the communicator badge from her dress, tossing it onto the bed behind them. ‘I hate it when the costume takes away from the main event.’

She could see the surprise in his eyes. He’d expected a fight. He’d expected her to give him a reason why he shouldn’t be having the same thoughts she was.

She smiled, her hand reaching out and resting on his waist. ‘Sometimes my body sends me different messages from my brain.’

Brad lifted a finger, running it down the side of her cheek. The lightest touch. Her response was immediate. Her face turned towards his hand, and his fingers caught the back of her head, intertwining with her hair. She leaned back into his touch, letting out a little sigh. Her eyes were closed, and she could feel his stubble scraping her chin, his warm breath near her ear. ‘And which message are you listening to?’ he whispered as his other hand slid under her dress.

‘Which one do you think?’

She caught his head in her hands and pulled his lips towards hers. This was what she’d been waiting for.

His lips touched hers hungrily, parting quickly, his tongue pushing against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

This was it. Stars were going off in her head. If he didn’t keep doing this she would explode. Because everything about this felt right. And it was just a kiss—right? Where was the harm in that?

‘I’ve waited a whole month to kiss you,’ he whispered in her ear.

‘Then I’ve only got one thing to say—don’t stop.’

CHAPTER FOUR

2 November

‘WHAT are you doing here?’

It was three o’clock in the morning, and the voice should have startled her, but it didn’t; it washed over her like warm treacle.

She turned her head in the darkened room where she was checking a patient’s obs, an automatic smile appearing on her face. ‘I got called in at eleven o’clock. Two of the night-shift staff had to go home sick, and it was too late to call in any agency staff.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sickness bug again. What are you doing here? I thought Franco was on call.’

Brad rolled his tired eyes. ‘Snap. Sickness bug, Franco phoned me half an hour ago with his head stuck down a toilet.’

Cassidy nodded. ‘Figures. This bug seems to hit people really quickly. Loads of the staff are down with it. Let’s just hope we manage to avoid it.’ She finished recording the obs in the patients chart and started walking towards the door. Brad’s arm rested lightly on her waist, and although she wanted to welcome the feel of his touch, it just didn’t seem right.

‘No touching at work,’ she whispered.

His eyes swept up and down the dimly lit corridor. ‘Even when there’s no one about? Where’s the fun in that?’ His eyes were twinkling again, and it was doing untold damage to her flip-flopping stomach. She stopped walking and leaned against the wall.

‘It’s like this, Dr Donovan.’ She moved her arm in a circular motion. ‘I’m the master of all you can survey right now, and it wouldn’t do to be caught in a compromising position with one of the doctors. That would give the hospital gossips enough ammunition for the rest of the year.’ She looked down the corridor again, straightening herself up, her breasts brushing against his chest.

‘I may well be the only nurse on duty in this ward right now, but I’ve got a reputation to maintain.’ She tapped her finger on his chest. ‘No matter how much men of a dubious nature try to waylay me.’

Brad kept his hands lightly resting on her waist. ‘Hmm, I’m liking three o’clock in the morning, Cassidy Rae. It sounds as if there might be a bit of a bad girl in there.’ He had that look in his eye again—the one he’d had when he’d finally stopped kissing her a few nights ago. The one that suggested a thousand other things they could be doing if they weren’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. ‘We really need to improve our timing.’

He was grinning at her now. The tiny hairs on her arms were starting to stand on end. This man was infectious. Much more dangerous than any sickness bug currently sweeping the ward.

She could feel the pressure rising in her chest. How easy would it be right now for them to kiss? And how much did she want to? But it went against all her principles for conduct and professional behaviour. So why did they currently feel as if they were flying out the window?

No matter how she tried to prevent it, this man had got totally under her skin. She was falling for him hook, line and sinker. No matter how much her brain told her not to.

She tried to break the tension between them. ‘What do you want, anyway? I didn’t page you. Shouldn’t you be in bed?’ The irony of the words hit her as soon as they left her mouth, her cheeks automatically flushing. Brad and bed. Two words that should never be together in a sentence. The images had haunted her dreams for the last few nights. And she had a very active imagination.

His fingers tugged her just a little closer so he could whisper in her ear. ‘Bed is exactly where I’m planning on being. But not here. And not alone.’

Cassidy felt her blush intensify. Was she going to deny what had been on her mind? She wasn’t normally shy around men. But something about Brad was different. Something was making her cautious.

And she wasn’t sure what it was. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet. But as long as she had the slightest inclination what it was, she didn’t want to lose her heart to this guy. No matter how irresistible he was.

‘I’ve got two patients coming up. Two young guys who’ve—what is it you call it here?—been out on the lash?’

Cassidy laughed and nodded at his phrasing. He really was trying to embrace the Scottish words and phrases around him. She raised her eyebrows, ‘Or you could call them blootered.’

Brad shook his head. ‘I think you all deliberately wait until I’m around and start using all these words to confuse me.’ He looked out the window into the night at the pouring rain. ‘One of the other nurses down in A and E called the two young guys drookit and mauchit. I have no idea what she was talking about.’

Cassidy laughed even harder. ‘Look outside, that will give you a clue. Drookit is absolutely soaking. Mauchit means really dirty. I take it the guys were found lying on the street?’

Brad nodded. ‘I’m getting the hang of this, though. It’s …’ he lifted his fingers in the air ‘… going like a fair down there.’

She laughed. ‘See—you’re learning. Bet you hadn’t heard that expression before you came to Scotland.’ Her brow wrinkled. ‘Hang on, where is it going like a fair? In A and E?’

‘The short-stay ward is full already. That’s why you’re getting these two. They’ll need Glasgow coma scale obs done. Are you okay with that?’

Cassidy smiled. ‘Of course I am. We’re used to getting some minor head injuries on the ward on a Saturday night.’ She walked over to the filing cabinet and pulled out the printed sheets, attaching them to two clipboards for the bottom of the beds. She turned to face him. ‘You know a group of doctors at one of the local hospitals invented this over thirty years ago.’ She waved the chart at him. ‘Now it’s used the whole world over. One of the doctors is still there. He’s a professor now.’

Brad raised his eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you just the little fund of information at three in the morning?’ He looked around again. ‘Haven’t you got some help? I’m not happy about you being here alone with two drunks.

There’s no telling how they’ll react when they finally come round.’

Cassidy pointed to a figure coming down the corridor. ‘Claire, the nursing auxiliary, is on duty with me. She was just away for a break. And if I need help from another staff nurse, I can call through to next door.’

She turned her head as she heard the lift doors opening and the first of the trolleys being pulled towards the ward. ‘Here they come.’ She scooted into the nearby six-bedded ward and pulled the curtains around one of the beds.

Five minutes later a very young, very drunk man was positioned in the bed, wearing a pair of hospital-issue granddad pyjamas. Cassidy wrinkled her nose at the vapours emanating from him. ‘Phew! He smells like a brewery. I could get anaesthetised by these fumes.’ She spent a few moments checking his blood pressure and pulse, checking his limb movements and trying to elicit a verbal and motor response from him. Finally she drew her pen torch from her pocket and checked his pupil reactions.

She shook her head as she marked the observations on the chart. ‘At least his pupils are equal and reactive. He’s reacting to pain, but apart from that he’s completely out of it.’ She checked the notes from A and E. ‘Any idea of a next of kin?’

Brad shook his head. ‘Neither of the guys had wallets on them. This one had a student card in his pocket but that was it.’

He raised his head as the rattle of the second trolley sounded simultaneously to his pager going off. He glanced downwards at the number. ‘It’s A and E again. Are you sure you’re okay?’

Claire had joined her at the side of the bed. ‘We’ll be fine, but just remember, there are no beds left up here.’

Brad nodded. ‘I’ll try to come back up later,’ he said as he walked down the corridor towards the lift.

Cassidy spent the next hour doing neurological observations on the two patients every fifteen minutes. Both of them started to respond a little better, even if it was belligerently. It was four o’clock in the morning now—that horrible time of night for the night shift where the need to sleep seemed to smack them straight in the head. Her eyes were beginning to droop even as she walked the length of the corridor to check on her patients. Sitting down right now would be lethal—she had to keep on the move to stay awake.

A monitor started pinging in one of the nearby rooms. ‘I’ll get it,’ she shouted to Claire. ‘The leads have probably detached again.’

She walked into the room of Mr Fletcher, a man in his sixties admitted with angina. Every time he’d turned over in his sleep tonight, one of the leads attached to his chest had moved out of place.

Cassidy flicked on the light, ready to silence the alarms on the monitor. But Mr Fletcher’s leads were intact. His skin was white and drawn, his lips blue and his body rigid on the bed. The monitor showed a rapid, flickering electrical line. Ventricular fibrillation. His heart wasn’t beating properly at all. Even though the monitor told her what she needed to know, she took a few seconds to check for a pulse and listen for breathing.