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‘Coming.’ Mac stood and began heading for the department.
‘You’re not taking your mug up to the counter?’ Kelli called all innocently.
‘Thought you’d do it for me,’ he shot over his shoulder. ‘As forward payment.’
‘I think I liked you better when you were serious and proper.’ But she smiled as she picked up his mug along with hers. Mac did that to her.
* * *
A little after eleven that night Kelli hit the gym. Running another seven Ks would counter the effects of last night’s bacon and eggs. She shouldn’t have had them, but she’d been hungry and had wanted comfort food to minimise the anxiety beginning to build up over Mac’s role in the coming weekend.
All the treadmills were in use except for one. Right beside the one Mac was using. Kelli resisted the urge to curse. Hadn’t he gone up to the surgical ward to talk to a patient they’d sent to Theatre earlier that night?
The treadmill was out. She needed space while she mulled over the dross banging around in her head. The rowing machines were right in his line of vision, a sight she understood too well after watching him last night. Mac was not getting an eyeful of her pulling on that equipment, sweating and puffing like him the night before.
The cycle machine was it. Her least favourite. The way those bike seats embedded themselves in her backside was horrid and always seemed to leave her feeling like tenderised meat. But sore backside, or ogled butt? She’d take the pain any day.
‘The humidity isn’t helping,’ Mac gasped as she passed him.
‘Eighty per cent last I heard.’
‘You’re not running tonight?’ he asked when she didn’t climb onto the adjacent treadmill.
‘Thought I’d go for the cycles instead. Nothing like a good ride.’
Mac’s eyes widened and he looked at her as he had that night in Sydney. As if he wanted her. Heat radiated off him. Flipping her head sideways, she tried to avoid his need, sure she was giving back an identical message. Her nipples were peaks pushing against her tee shirt, her sex hot and damp.
‘Cycling it is,’ Mac retorted, bringing her instantly out of her delirium.
Thank goodness. Something had to. She was standing in the gym, not outside a hotel bedroom. Right, on with the job. Anything to shut down her mind, put Mac on hold. Ah, put Mac aside for ever.
Earplugs in and the music loud. Deliberately setting a higher than her normal speed, Kelli shuffled her butt left and right on the seat to get as comfortable as possible and began to cycle, building up the speed slowly. It wasn’t long before sweat ran down her spine, between her aching, thwarted breasts, and had her top clinging to her skin wherever it touched. Yuk.
Mac stopped running, headed over to the weights, and the air did not feel any lighter.
Puff, puff. This cycling was hard yakker tonight, for some reason. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching she pressed the button to lower the resistance by two notches. No point in killing herself before the weekend.
Sometimes she wished she had the strength to ignore the fact she was on the larger side and didn’t have to put her body through all this trauma. Imagine not having to work herself into a sweat ball five days a week. But any time she even half-heartedly contemplated not going to the gym she’d think of Steve and his scalpel. Giving herself the weekends off was her treat, and definitely her favourite days of the week.
Thirty minutes later Mac tapped the back of her hand and waited until she’d cleared her ears of music. ‘You going to be all night on that thing?’
‘Nothing better to do.’ Her thighs were aching and her glutes were so tenderised they were ready for the barbecue.
‘You need a life, girl. How about another round at the All-Nighter?’
Then she’d have to row, cycle and run tomorrow. ‘Best offer I’ve had all week. No, make that since you offered to be my partner.’ Her legs were slowing. ‘Are you finished here?’
He nodded and slashed at his moist cheeks. ‘Can’t get enthused.’
‘Enthused? Over exercise? Are you nuts?’
Mac’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you feel like that why come here? It’s not as though you’re overweight or in need of a body makeover.’
Was the guy blind? Thoughtlessly she leaned in, brushed her lips against his, hesitated and began a full-on kiss. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured against him.
Firm hands were on her shoulders, gently pushing her back, away from that divine man with his lovely compliments. ‘Much as I hate to stop you, we are in the middle of the hospital gym where colleagues are working out—with their eyes wide open.’
Oh. Right. Of course. ‘Sorry.’ He doesn’t want to be seen with me.
‘Kelli, stop saying sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m thinking more that you won’t like the gossip mill starting up about us.’
Mac was protecting her from the gossips?
Go, you, Mac Taylor. I could really get used to this.
No, she couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t. Her family already tried to protect her and look how she objected when they stole some of her independence. ‘Shower time.’
His mouth lifted. ‘I suppose.’
‘See you in ten.’
‘Twice as long as last night?’
She was sweatier than last night. And she needed to give Mac time to forget asking why she might say sorry so often. If she even did.
She did.
Sorry appeased people, kept them from giving her a hard time. Sorry didn’t always work. It most definitely was a habit she needed to break.
Starting now. Tonight. No more ‘sorry’ unless there was a very strong reason, and that didn’t include trying to keep people onside.
Hey, didn’t Mac say he’d hated stopping her kiss? Forget sorry, think about what that might mean. He wanted more kisses from her. Yes. Mentally punching the air, she headed for the showers.
* * *
Mac watched Kelli fork up her salad. ‘Who eats lettuce at twelve-thirty in the morning?’
‘Me.’ Chew, chew. Add in a slice of tomato.
‘You don’t look half as happy as you did last night eating bacon and eggs.’
She swallowed and glared first at him and then at her plate. ‘You’re right. But last night was an indulgence. T
onight is reality.’
‘There’s not enough lettuce on your plate to keep a rabbit happy.’ Was she a diet freak? ‘You have a figure that’d send any man into raptures.’
‘I like to keep on top of my weight.’ Kelli looked everywhere but at him.
‘Do me a favour and have something tasty and filling to go with that salad. I’d hate you to fade away to a stick insect.’
She blanched. ‘Fat chance.’
‘Kelli, girl, you’re not fat. You’re perfect. Tall and shapely, not thin and scrawny.’
She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. ‘Shapely is another word for plump.’
Reaching for Kelli’s free hand, he wrapped it in his fingers, felt her tremble. ‘Whoever told you that is an ass. Or worse. Personally, I don’t want to feel bones when I hug a woman. I want her warmth and curves and softness.’ Not that he’d done much hugging for a long time. He used to love hugs. There was something relaxed and friendly and caring between two people who were close when they hugged. Like saying the world was good.
‘Each to their own.’ Hope tripped through her gaze.
‘Well, you’re my partner so I get to say what I like.’ When they called it all off he would still think Kelli had a body to die for. He should ask his mother to start sending her care packages. As if that’d go down well with this prickly woman. ‘Feel like ice cream tonight?’ he teased, aware she’d hate him asking, but wanting to show her there was no harm in indulging occasionally. As long as she was healthy and stayed that way, eating was all about balance.
‘I hate you,’ she muttered as she stared longingly at the menu listing a multitude of ice-cream flavours.
‘I know.’ Did she realise he was still holding her hand? He should withdraw but this was cool. Cosy. Nice. Something he hadn’t done since... Cherie. Mac sat back, taking his hand away. From another chance at happiness.
Happiness was good; everyone deserved it. Even he did. Maybe. But when happiness went belly up then... Then the pain was unbearable. Terrifying. Inexplicable. It tore a man apart, left him unable to put the pieces back together, definitely not the way they’d been before.
