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Pieces were slotting into place in Joshua’s head. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t her fault or responsibility. What was important was how Clara felt about it. What it made her feel inside. They’d all had a case like this—likely, more than one. The if only aspect that tormented them in a way it shouldn’t.
He gave an understanding nod. ‘So, today?’
She gave a huge sigh. ‘Today was the first case of intussusception I’ve dealt with since then. It just pushed buttons in me. Made me feel panic. Even though it felt textbook, I wondered if I was just making things fit because I’m just so scared of another instance getting missed.’ Her head sagged and she pulled her ponytail out, shaking her head as if to give herself some kind of relief.
Her dark hair was mussed and full, scattering over her shoulders and around her face. Every time he’d seen Clara she’d had her hair pulled back in some kind of band or clip. He’d never seen it loose before and the effect was quite stunning.
His hand was still holding hers. She hadn’t pulled away, but the trembling had finally stilled. He spoke slowly. ‘You did a good job today, Clara. You saw a child and diagnosed him with a condition, and got him appropriate treatment. I’m always here for a second opinion. I’m always happy to do that—so don’t be afraid to ask again.’ He chose his words carefully, wanting to reassure and build her confidence back up. ‘But you didn’t need it today. Your clinical judgement was spot on. I have confidence in you. You’ve proved yourself since you got here. I’ve not heard one query about any of your work. Have a bit of faith.’
Her brown eyes looked up and their gazes locked.
‘I understand it brought back bad memories. I get that we all have triggers.’
There was a moment’s silence—so much unsaid. It was the first time he’d seen Clara vulnerable—just like she’d seen him when Hannah had disappeared from the flat. She’d been good to him that night, even though she’d really had no reason to be. After the frosty way he’d treated her he couldn’t have blamed her if she’d called him out for not noticing Hannah leaving immediately. He would have deserved it. But she hadn’t said a single word like that, just invited him to sit down and talk.
He wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in a cupboard with Clara but, face to face, this was as close as they’d got. Her scent was wrapping its way around him, pulling him in like some magic power. He’d got to the stage now that whenever he got the slightest whiff of that scent he would raise his head to see where she was. There was something about being in a tight space with someone. Being so close that he could see the tiny beating pulse at the apex of her neck, the tiny smudge of foundation on her cheek and the way her red lipstick had started to wear away. He knew he was staring, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable because he knew she was staring too.
He wondered what she was seeing. Could she tell that he was worried about her? Did she know that he trusted her clinical judgement? Would she notice the lines and dark circles around his eyes because he hadn’t been sleeping well lately? The little patch he’d missed this morning when shaving? Or might she sense the fact that he still wondered if he was managing to fulfil the role of both mum and dad to his daughter? Hannah deserved so much love and attention. Sometimes he looked at Hannah and his heart swelled so much in his chest that he thought it might explode.
Clara blinked as she watched him then moved slowly, her other hand lifting and resting on his chest. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
It was in his mind in an instant—that immediate instinctive need to move just a few inches forward to close the gap between them. His eyes focused on her lips as she licked them and he had to root his feet to the floor to stop them moving. The heat from her palm was flooding through his thin cotton shirt, warming his chest and spreading outwards. But it was the inward sensation that was making his breath catch somewhere in his throat. In his entire life, he’d never wanted to kiss a woman so badly.
Was it the red stain still on her lips? The way her loose and mussed up hair look completely sexy? Not moving was currently a form of torture.
But then the spell was broken. Clara closed the tiny space between them, stepping forward, sliding her hand up around his neck and pressing her lips against his.
It was like a roar in his ears. All the brakes were off. He slid his hand through her thick hair and pulled her tight against him. She tasted sweet and as he breathed in the fresh garden scent filled his nostrils. One of his hands stayed in her hair while the other pulled her close to his hip. He could feel the curves of her body against him.
Clara Connolly wasn’t afraid of kissing. She met him match for match, pushing him back against the shelves on his side. His hand moved, sliding under her white coat and brushing the skin where her shirt met her trousers.
She made a little sound—one of pleasure—and it nearly drove him crazy. It was as if their minds melded.
They both pulled back, breathing hard. Clara let out a little laugh and lowered her head. When she lifted her head back up her eyes were glowing. The warmth from that glow spread all across his skin.
‘Should I apologise?’ she asked.
He shook his head and let out a small laugh too. ‘Should I?’
‘Somehow I don’t think we’ll be the only hospital staff to share a rogue kiss in a cupboard.’
This time he nodded as he smiled. ‘I don’t think so.’
Clara reached up and grabbed her hair, pulling it back into the band wrapped around her wrist and then straightened her shirt. ‘How do I look?’ It was clear she was planning on heading back outside.
‘Fine.’ Was he disappointed?
Staff came in and out of this cupboard all day—the last thing he wanted was to get caught in here. The gossip would spread like wildfire. And, funnily enough, he’d never really been the type to have a clinch in a cupboard or on-call room—no matter how much hospital staff joked about it.
‘Oh, wait a minute.’ She stood up on tiptoe and wiped one finger at the edge of his mouth. ‘I think I left my mark.’ She pulled back her finger, examining the minuscule hint of colour. ‘That’s better.’ She smiled as she put her hand on the door handle.
She paused for a second and he could see her taking a deep breath, composing herself. A little buzz of pleasure flushed through his veins. ‘You wait thirty seconds,’ she shot over her shoulder as she opened the door and stepped outside into the ward.
As the door closed he leaned back against the shelves again, laughing. He had no idea how that had just happened.
Well, no, of course he did. But his idea of trying to ignore the flare of attraction to Clara had obviously failed. A tiny part of his brain waved a red flag. He was her boss. He’d only guided her into the cupboard for some privacy because she was upset.
But Clara had made the first move and they were both consenting adults. Maybe she’d felt the same wave of attraction that he had?
He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Clara was only here for a temporary period. He had Hannah to think about. Maybe it was better to keep things neutral. Certainly at work that would be for the best. Last thing he wanted was for it to be common knowledge that something might be going on between them.
He nodded to himself and breathed, giving his face a quick rub to make sure there was no sign of her lipstick. He swung the door to the stationery cupboard open and stepped out onto the ward.
As the door swung back into place he jumped. Ron was standing—cool as a cucumber—behind the door. He lifted the cup in his hand and grinned. ‘Made you a coffee. Here you go.’
And then he winked. And walked away.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE WAS DEFINITELY starting to feel better. The view from her bedroom window had stopped looking so alien to her. She’d started to enjoy standing on the balcony and listening to the sounds from below at night instead of pining for her view of fields with an occasional sh
eep’s baa.
She enjoyed both the swimming pool and gym within the apartment complex, and Louie was practically her best friend. He even put her food deliveries from a supermarket in her apartment for her, taking care to put essentials in the fridge.
As for Joshua? She wasn’t entirely sure what was happening there. A few more weeks had passed. She wasn’t embarrassed at all by their kiss. It had sent a whole host of sensations whirling around her body. Most of all it made her feel alive again.
Joshua was hard to read. He wasn’t avoiding her. He didn’t seem embarrassed either. But neither of them had even admitted the event had happened. Though, for some strange reason, it seemed to have helped break the underlying tension between them.
He was a bit easier around her, talking to her more like a friend, rather than a stranger who’d sneaked into his department. That, in turn, had helped her relax a bit more. She didn’t need to prove herself at every turn. Three days ago she’d had another baby with intussusception, and this time she hadn’t second-guessed herself—wondering if she was seeing symptoms that weren’t there. The baby had been diagnosed by her in A&E, assessed by the surgeon and taken to Theatre within two hours of entering the hospital. All without any complications. She’d spent most of the next day hanging around little Abe and tickling his toes. For a baby who had required major surgery he’d been in a surprisingly good mood when he’d come around and made a rapid recovery, eating and drinking normally within a few days.
Joshua had appeared once or twice at her shoulder and given her a reassuring smile, but nothing more.
Part of her was entirely comfortable, and part of her had a longing for more. Her brain frequently told her that maybe he’d just been feeling sorry for her, but the cells in her body remembered his response. It hadn’t felt like any kind of sympathy kiss—instead it had felt like a compressed well of passion. One that she wouldn’t have minded exploring a bit further...
But she had taken one step forward. She’d finally pressed send on the email to the IVF clinic, making enquiries about treatment options and using donor sperm. It had felt monumental to her, even though it was a basic enquiry. Once she had all the information she could think again. And that made her feel good—good she’d made the decision, and good that she was thinking about what came next. Life wasn’t just the place she was now; life was also the world of possibilities in front of her.
