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“That didn’t end so very long ago, there’s only been you since.”
He sensed her grimace. “Urgh, I’m getting rebound vibes here. You said it was mutual, but in my experience it’s never mutual. How did it really end?”
He stiffened. And she felt it. She glanced up. “You don’t actually have to answer that. I just can’t help being a nosy cow.”
“No, it’s fine. She met someone else. But I guess we were already growing apart, so…”
It was true, they’d drifted into habit. A nice, warm habit, but after these few weeks with Polly, he realised he and Emma had lost that special something, long before Drew. He was the devoted type; the kind of guy who would have stuck by Emma without questioning it. So why couldn’t he tell Polly the truth?
She said, “But you wouldn’t have left first, right?”
Holy cow, her intuition was unnerving. He wasn’t going to tell her about Emma and Drew. Sure, it was pathetic ego stuff; not wanting to be seen as the loser who’d lost his girl to his best mate. Wanting to maintain his stud-muffin status in her eyes. And why the hell not? It was, as Polly had pointed out, only going to last for a month or two.
“No, I probably wouldn’t have left first.” He kissed her forehead. “But then I would never have met you.”
She didn’t answer, then changed the subject. “Tell me your career plans. You mentioned neuropsychiatry the other day. That sounds exciting.”
She was playing him, typical social worker, getting him to talk about himself.
“I can specialise in neuropsychiatry in Sydney. I’d like to get more involved in research. There is a position I’ve applied for. I’m waiting to hear whether I’ve got an interview.”
“Great!” She said it like it was the best news she’d heard all day.
Solo’s heart did another dive. This was crazy. They weren’t even an item. Christ, how were you supposed to do this? After ten years with Emma, he’d lost his knack of navigating new relationships. And was that what this even was?
Not according to Polly.
He tried to sound casual when he asked, “How about you? Where do you want your career to head next?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been asked to apply for management, but that means less clinical work and I love seeing clients. I guess I might go travelling… who knows… I could go rural, but… Oh, this is boring…”
“No, it’s not. I’m interested.”
She pulled away, lay on her back. “I’m not used to talking about myself.”
He kept his arm around her shoulder. She wasn’t escaping that easily. “I’ve noticed your tendency to focus on other people’s happiness before your own.”
“Bullshit. I am totally hedonistic and utterly self-obsessed.”
“I don’t mean the superficial stuff. Like losing a centimetre or two off your thighs.”
“Try ten.”
“Jesus, see what I mean? I mean the stuff inside. The stuff of dreams.”
“Wow! Dr J, the romantic. You should have been a poet.”
He laughed, some little seed of masochism pushing for more. “Go on, tell me a couple of your dreams.”
“Oh god. All right. Travel the world, marry off my friends—it makes them happy, and I’m kind of good at it.”
“Marry off your friends!” He scoffed. The question on his lips felt like walking into a field of unexploded mines. “Don’t you want to get married eventually?”
“Marriage ruins your sex life. Why would I want that? Especially after the orgasm you just delivered, Dr J.” She curled into him again, put a hand up to his cheek and brushed her lips to his. “Let’s stop talking, shall we…”
Her tongue circled his lips and his body shuddered an immediate response. He hustled his disappointment into some dark recess of his brain, smoothed a hand over her hips, between her thighs and heard her little gasp.
“Let’s just forget the deep and meaningfuls.” She jumped on top of him, grinning broadly and scissored his hips with her thighs. Solo’s brain turned to mush as her hands pinned him down and her head moved lower. “Right now, I’ve got a very different kind of deep in mind.” Polly giggled.
