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Ronnie was nodding, and then turned, marching over towards them. Terry straightened a little, as if he was preparing himself for the onslaught.
‘You damned fool, Terry Jarvis. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Sorry, Ronnie.’ Terry had clearly decided that the less he said the better.
‘So you should be. You think I’m going to let those boys lounge about in bus shelters when they could be in here, doing something useful? I’ll get some of the lads to come and spar with them, and you can stay out of the ring. Right?’
‘Right. Thanks, Ronnie.’
‘Don’t thank me. You know full well those kids need you, and I’m not having you bleeding to death on my premises. The doctor’s giving me some written guidelines about what you can and can’t do, and I’ll be keeping my eye on you.’
Gabriel had followed her over, grinning broadly. ‘Well, if that’s settled, can we go to the hospital now?’
Ronnie turned on him, beaming. ‘Just a tick, Doctor. I’ll go and get my jacket and car keys.’
‘You don’t need to come, Ronnie. I don’t want to put you out.’ Terry was looking a great deal happier now, obviously content to take the sharp edge of Ronnie’s tongue in return for the survival of his beloved boxing club.
‘Someone needs to make sure you’re all right, you don’t seem to be making much of a job of it.’ Ronnie spun on her heel, clearly not in a mood to take any further disagreement, and made for her office.
‘So, Doctor,’ Clara murmured to him as he carefully took over the pressure on Terry’s wound to allow her to brief her team for the departure. ‘Seems as if you’ve found Ronnie’s good side.’
He gave her a melting look that turned her insides to jelly. ‘Looks as if I have, Cupcake.’
* * *
Every time they got too close, Clara took a step back again. For the last three days her manner had given no clue that he was anything other than a client. But Gabriel waited and finally she came to him. He was sitting in an armchair in his study, the door open as it had been for th
e last few nights. Just when he was beginning to feel that this was foolish, Clara appeared in the doorway, a glass in her hand.
‘I thought you might like a nightcap.’
‘Won’t you join me? Or if you’re driving tonight, then coffee.’ He gestured towards the coffee machine in the corner behind his desk. As soon as she stepped over the threshold she was his. Away from the cameras and alone. She knew that as well as he did.
‘Coffee would be nice, thank you.’ She walked inside, closing the door behind her. Setting the drink down on the table in front of his chair, she sat down opposite, slipping off her sandals and tucking her legs up underneath her.
Way to go. Gabriel made the coffee and sat down. ‘What’s this?’ He reckoned he knew the smell of rum and nutmeg that had followed her into the room.
The hint of the smile that he’d been wanting so badly hovered on her lips. Not the everyday one, which she bandied around without a thought. The one that, in his dreams, was reserved for him. Gabriel picked up the glass and tasted it.
‘Rum Flip. And a good one. That’s just the right amount of nutmeg.’
‘I measured it, I’m afraid.’
Gabriel grinned. ‘That works. Each to their own.’
She curled her hands around her coffee cup, and drank. This time was too precious to spend in silence, and when Gabriel opened his mouth to say something she did too.
‘You first.’ Gabriel smiled at her.
‘I was just going to say that I’ve come to see how you’re doing.’
‘Fine. All in one piece still.’ Gabriel deliberately misunderstood the question and she gave him a gentle chiding look.
‘I meant how you were feeling.’
‘I feel... I think it’s probably best to just get on with things. Stay busy.’
‘That’s one way of doing it. You’ve been busy enough over the last few days.’ Her gaze seemed to penetrate the minutiae of his life, right through to the most primal feelings. Fear. Passion. Guilt.
