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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 wit

h 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.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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