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Yet worse than any of that had been the fact that he’d wanted to tell her that he wasn’t as bad as his reputation painted him. Perhaps ten years ago he’d been a playboy, even eight years ago. But recently, between his career and the charity, he didn’t have time to seduce the sheer volume of women the rumours would have Anouk believe.
But, to what end?
What would it change?
He might no longer have the time, or the same inclination, for one-night stands with an endless procession of pretty, eager partners—but that hardly meant he was suddenly going to turn into the kind of commitment-ready man that a woman like Anouk would demand.
She might still be haunti
ng his brain, and his body, in a way that no other woman ever had, but that was surely just because that all too brief encounter in the office hadn’t quite been enough to slake their desire for one another. He still couldn’t offer her any more than no-strings sex.
So then why care whether his reputation was entirely accurate? It was close enough, wasn’t it? What did it matter what Anouk Hart thought of him?
Disgusted with himself, he had thrown the bedsheets back and stomped down to his home gym, running, rowing and carrying out a brutal training routine designed to really push his body. As if it could drive out the gnawing hunger he felt inside.
He shouldn’t want her with such hunger.
Attraction was one thing, but this desire he felt for Anouk was something infinitely more dangerous. It made him wonder, just for a moment, what a normal relationship would be like. And that was much too treacherous a path because he wasn’t like most normal people. He didn’t have that capacity for love that they had. Hadn’t his childhood taught him that? When his mother had been at her most vulnerable, when she’d most needed his care, he’d resented her. Hated her, even.
He had never gone to visit her in that centre Malachi had managed to get her into when he’d been fifteen. He’d only gone to her funeral a year later because Malachi had practically dragged him there by his ear. And he had resented every single second of it. Hadn’t he given that woman enough of his precious time and attention? Hadn’t he sacrificed his childhood for her? And hadn’t Malachi sacrificed even more?
All of which meant he wasn’t the kind of man for a woman like Anouk. He didn’t love a person, flaws and all. No, he honed in on any imperfections and magnified them until he couldn’t see past them to the person beneath. He used those flaws against them and Anouk deserved better than that.
She deserved better than him. If he thought anything of her at all then he would stay away from her.
At least the punishing training regime of the last couple of days seemed to have distracted his body. Hopefully, the demands of a shift in Neurology would occupy his head, as well.
What he hadn’t expected was to be called straight down to Resus only to find he was once again needed on Anouk’s team.
As if fate were personally throwing them together, he griped, striding through the doors only to come face to face with the woman who occupied too much of his brain. She stared at him in shock for several long seconds before dropping her eyes and switching back into professional mode.
Just like Anouk. Sol couldn’t help grinning to himself. He would have been disappointed if she hadn’t done so but at least she seemed as disquieted about his appearance as he felt. That was perhaps some consolation.
She cleared her throat and he knew he didn’t imagine that overly bossy tone was meant for him.
‘Okay, team, can you gather round a moment, please? We have a twenty-month-old girl who fell frontwards down a flight of concrete steps. ETA five minutes. Blood loss, but breathing and conscious. Helipad response team have gone up to the roof now to meet the HEMS. We’re just waiting for now.’
The team moved quickly, getting equipment, a fresh mattress, the right materials—a flurry of activity as they prepared for the new patient to arrive. And when it all stilled, he wasn’t prepared for Anouk to be standing right in front of him, a startled look on her face as though she hadn’t expected to turn around and find him there.
He tried reminding himself of all the reasons he should keep his distance, but suddenly he couldn’t think of a single one of them.
‘I see I’m not the only one to have been brightening up this place.’
Sol jerked his head to the two-foot counter-top Christmas tree, prettily decorated, on the centre computer tables. He had no idea where they came from, yet the words tripped off his tongue, low and teasing.
‘I didn’t do it,’ she retorted quickly.
Perhaps a little too quickly. And the way she flushed a deep scarlet made him unexpectedly curious. Was there something more to the story? Something that made her blush like a schoolgirl in front of him? Sol discovered he rather liked that idea.
‘Ah, but do you know who did?’ He took a stab in the dark, delighted when it seemed to pay off as her blush didn’t fade, but she did manage to look simultaneously murderous.
As well as ridiculously cute.
‘No.’
‘Isn’t that odd? I don’t think I believe you,’ he offered soberly, earning him a long-suffering eye-roll.
It delighted him beyond all measure.
