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‘How did you manage?’ Tom asked.
‘I reached a point where I believed I’d used up my share of happiness, that there wouldn’t be any more for me. I even thought it was punishment for my extravagant lifestyle. Now I’m not so sure. We’ve both spent the intervening years doing so much for other people, surely we’re entitled to a little slice of happiness?’ But how did Tom feel about her? Six years was a long time to keep love alive when there was so much distress and grief to deal with.
‘Of course we are. Everyone is.’ His aching sigh caught at her heartstrings. ‘That’s why we’re clearing the air—so we can move on.’
That sounded very definitely like the slamming of a door. Fiona’s intertwined fingers were white. Her teeth were grinding. Her thudding heart echoed in her ears, drowning out other sounds.
But he was asking her something. ‘What’s your next move? After here, I mean.’
‘I’m still thinking about that. Initially I intended heading back overseas.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘But now—I don’t know.’
‘Why the change of mind?’
If she told him she wanted to settle here, in Hanmer Springs, would he be upset? Would he run a mile? She couldn’t risk it. Not yet. ‘I’m discovering I’m happy to be back in New Zealand. I haven’t a clue what I’ll do if I stay, but there’s plenty of time to work something out.’
‘You’d get a job anywhere. Good plastic surgeons are in demand.’
‘Sure.’ She didn’t want to work anywhere. She wanted to work here. With Tom.
‘I can’t imagine what it’s like to have time on your hands. It’s so long since I took a break it’s a dream.’ Then he lifted his face. His eyes were filled with longing.
She moved without realising what she was doing. She took Tom’s hand and placed it on her hip. She tucked her face against his chest.
His chin settled on her head. It felt so right being there, almost a part of him. When he began running his fingers through her hair she smiled and snuggled closer to his lean, muscular body.
She smoothed her palm over his skin, felt the muscles moving under her hand. Then her finger touched a nipple, and Tom’s breath hissed through his teeth. Beneath her bottom his thighs tensed. She shifted slightly.
‘Don’t wriggle,’ he begged.
Right. She kissed his stomach. And shifted her backside.
‘Fi…’
‘Fi, what?’ she whispered against his skin, before trailing her tongue up the muscles of his stomach, over his chest to the hollow beneath his jaw. As her tongue found it heat flared between her legs and she trembled. The fire she’d thought she’d extinguished earlier was well and truly roaring.
An icy chill on his back where the bedcovers had ridden down woke Tom. His right arm was crushed under Fiona, his fingers completely numb. Carefully he eased his arm out, not wanting to disturb Fiona as she slept peacefully, her back curved against his belly.
Holding his arm aloft, he opened and shut his fingers, pumping the blood through his veins, urging his cells back to life. Sharp tingling in his muscles caused him to grimace.
But it didn’t interrupt his thoughts of Fiona and what they’d shared through the night. Which was a problem. He’d really messed up this time. Not that he’d been coerced into making love with her. No way. He’d wanted it every bit as much as she had.
But it had been a mistake. A monumental mistake. Fiona would be here for another three days. Three days when they’d have to work together, acting as though this hadn’t happened.
It had happened. They’d made love twice. And it had been wonderful, fantastic. No denying that. But, wonderful or not, their future had not changed because of it.
Another thought pierced his mind.
They hadn’t used any protection. Hadn’t even thought about it. His heart-rate slowed. How could he have not thought about it? What if they’d got pregnant?
His heart lurched. He’d love another child, love to be a father again, was even ready for it. But was Fiona? Did she want a baby? Slow down. His heart was running away with this. The whole idea was crazy. They weren’t getting back together again, so how could he think about children?
The last thing either of them needed was to bring another child into this world. Not with everything that had gone wrong last time. There’d be the constant fear that something would again take away their child. What if he failed Fiona again? It would destroy both of them completely next time.
Slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her, he slid out of the bed and padded across the room, the floor freezing under his warm feet. In his bedroom he tugged on his thick robe before heading for the kitchen, where he switched on the kettle for a cup of coffee. He poked at the embers in the firebox until they were glowing, then added kindling and some pieces of split pine.
If only it were as easy to sort out his life.
Chapter Eleven
FIONA stretched and rolled over in the narrow bed. She was alone. Some time during the night Tom had left her. The warm, soft feeling inside her evaporated as quickly as the warmth of her skin did when she lifted the covers away.
Had he been called over to the hospital? An emergency? In her heart she knew that hadn’t happened. She’d have heard the phone, or someone knocking on the front door outside her bedroom. Over the years spent working overseas she’d always slept with one ear open, alert to anyone needing her medical skills. So how had she missed Tom leaving her bed?
The bedside clock read six-thirty. Time to be getting up and preparing for the day ahead. Groping in the dark, she found the switch for the bedside light and flicked it on, blinking in the sudden yellow light.
Her heart lurched. Across the floor Tom’s clothes were intermingled with hers, scattered as they’d hurried to get close to each other. Picking up his shirt, she held it to her face, sniffed in his scent. A lump filled her throat. He’d left her during the night. In her heart of hearts she knew what that meant. Last night had been wonderful. Last night had been a one-off. Last night was not to be repeated.
She suspected that right now he’d be sitting behind his desk in the hospital with screeds of paperwork in front of him. Patient notes, staff rosters, accounts, medical journals—whatever. All to do with his hospital. All keeping him busy and away from her.
This was classic Tom behaviour. Work first, everything and everyone else second.
Disappointment thumped through her head. To think she’d believed they were making progress in reaching an understanding. She couldn’t have been further from the truth if she’d tried. They might have made love during the night. It might have been sensational. But it all meant absolutely nothing in the cold half-light of the morning when she found herself alone in his cottage.
Did he think he’d made a mistake coming to her room last night? Was that it? Guilt snagged her. When he’d first knocked on her door he’d said he wanted to explain—and what had she done? Seduced him. He’d made it easy, for sure. But ever since she’d arrived she’d wanted him to talk to her, and when he’d come to do that she’d made love to him instead. The guy couldn’t win.
Had he meant to discuss Liam and their defunct marriage with her? She’d been lured into a false sense of expectation when he’d told her about his friend Billy. That had been a shock. Now she fully understood why he didn’t express his feelings very well. If his parents had refused to listen and repeatedly told him to forget what had happened, then he had no idea of the relief talking about problems could bring. But to have never mentioned the incident at all over the years they were together hurt her. Just as he hadn’t once told her about his dreams for a children’s hospital.
Shivering in the chilly air, she gathered up her clothes, dressed rapidly, and headed for the kitchen and some warmth. Her heart thumped slowly, painfully, as she tripped down the hall. With each step she reaffirmed what she already knew—the cottage was empty. Tom had gone out. By leaving her to wake up alone he was telling her that they had not rekindled their love but somehow cem
ented its demise.
The kettle was warm to her shaky touch. So Tom had made himself a drink not long ago. How come she had not woken? Had not felt him leaving her side? She should have sensed his departure. His withdrawal.
If he’d wanted a way to tell her she didn’t belong in his life then he’d certainly found it. His lovemaking had been goodbye, not welcome back.
‘Hi.’ Fiona walked into Tom’s office at midday, her chin high and her eyes guarded.
‘Finished your round?’ he asked, tapping his pen and trying to ignore the tension in his belly wound so tight he felt in danger of springing apart. Where did they go from here? How did they get beyond last night without resorting to platitudes? Or, worse, going back to conversations about the past?
‘The ward round was uneventful.’ Fiona dropped into a chair and rubbed her eyes. Shadows darkened the skin below them. Her voice drained of all emotion, she added, ‘Sophie will be here in a few minutes for her final check-up.’
