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Just as he’d finally managed to get used to Gerry constantly hovering in the background with a camera, now everything was flipped on its head and Kristie hovering with a camera was something else entirely. Initially he’d found Gerry’s filming intrusive, and probably a bit unnecessary. But Kristie’s? That was just unnerving. Gerry had an ability to be unnoticeable and virtually silent. Now he was constantly aware of the scent of Kristie drifting from behind him and the noise of her footsteps on the hospital floor.
Where Gerry had felt like a ghost, Kristie was more like a neon light.
And things were certainly illuminating. It turned out Gerry had been harbouring a history of niggling indigestion and heaviness in his arms and a constant feeling of tiredness. Trouble was, Gerry had worked out himself that all the signs were pointing to cardiac trouble—but instead of seeking treatment he’d kept quiet, out of fear of losing his job.
Rhuaridh wasn’t there to judge. Healthcare and insurance in the US was completely different from healthcare in the UK.
He turned to speak to Kristie just in time to notice a big fat tear slide down her cheek. Her eyes were fixed on Gerry’s pale face as he lay with his eyes closed on the hospital bed, surrounded by flashing monitors and beeping IVs.
Something inside him clenched. This was her worst nightmare. Of course it was. She hated hospitals and now she was forcing herself to stay to be with Gerry. He knew in his heart that any suggestion he made about her leaving would fall on deaf ears. Rhuaridh slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. ‘You okay?’
She shook her head then rested it on his shoulder. ‘I was mad at him. I went across to his room to shout at him.’
Rhuaridh tilted his head towards her. ‘Why on earth did you want to shout at Gerry? You two seem to get on so well. You complement each other.’
She hesitated for a second then pulled a face. ‘If I tell you why I was mad, you might get mad too.’
Rhuaridh shook his head. He had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Okay, I feel as if I missed part of the conversation here.’
Her eyes lowered, her hands fumbling in her lap. Her voice was sad when she spoke. ‘I found out Gerry filmed us kissing outside the hospital in December. I didn’t know. He didn’t say a word to me. And now my producer, Louie, has seen it, and loves it, so it’s going to be in the next episode of the show, no matter how much I begged him not to use it.’
For the first time since she’d got here Rhuaridh felt distinctively uncomfortable. He didn’t actually care about being filmed kissing Kristie. What he did care about was the fact she didn’t seem to want anyone else to know. All those previous thoughts that he’d pushed away rushed into his head. Why would a girl like Kristie be interested in a guy from a Scottish island?
He took a deep breath and said the words he really didn’t want to. ‘What’s wrong with us kissing?’
Her head turned sharply towards his. ‘It’s private. It’s not something I want to share with the world.’
She was looking at him as if he should understand this. But his stomach was still twisting. His brain was sparking everywhere. He was looking at this woman in a new way. A way that told him she could easily break his heart.
He’d kind of shut himself off from the world since he’d come to Arran—focusing on work had seemed easier than realising he might never get the opportunity to meet someone to share his life with. And even though he knew things were ridiculous and completely improbable, even the fact that he’d thought about Kristie in that context had meant that he’d finally started to open himself up a little again. But it seemed he couldn’t have timed things worse.
‘We were in a public place,’ he said carefully. ‘That isn’t so private.’
For a millisecond he might have been annoyed with Gerry—just like he had been in the beginning, questioning everything they filmed and the ethics behind it.
But Kristie had already told him. She needed this show to be a hit. If she didn’t want the world to know they’d kissed, then at least part of him could be relieved she wasn’t playing him.
She looked wounded by his words, her hand flew up to her chest. ‘But it’s private to me,’ she said empathically.
