Dear Doctor, page 14
They sat down, ordered drinks, then, while Matt started his computer, Kirsten looked around the room—or as much of it as she could see for the protective greenery.
The cancelled wedding reception had left it less crowded than usual but the tables were filling up. Directly opposite her was an older woman who looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps she’d been a patient. Patients always looked different when encountered beyond the hospital walls.
Then someone joined the woman, and though Kirsten’s only view was a darkly suited back she recognised the breadth of shoulders, the slant down to a slim waist and hips—and the hair which, at the moment, was still freshly combed so smooth and neat and tidy.
Her heart did a side-step, and her stomach niggled uneasily, but her mind kept insisting that she preferred the hair a little mussed and wondering if she’d have the opportunity to muss it tomorrow. Had they agreed to start? She couldn’t remember. It seemed as if every time they’d spoken recently they’d ended up fighting.
Joy Phillips—the familiarity had been explained when Josh had appeared—waved, and Kirsten, certain the woman wouldn’t know her out of the Dolly Parton wig, looked around to see if there was someone behind them.
Of course, there wasn’t and, anyway, Matt was waving back. One assumed, as she was his aunt, she’d recognised him not Kirsten.
Great! Now Josh had turned and was looking at them, and even at this distance she could see his frown.
‘Damn!’ Matt said. ‘I haven’t seen Joy for ages. I’d better go and do the dutiful. Look, I’ve started this, just use the cursor to follow the program. I’ve put in written prompts in bubbles, but will add voice prompts for the kids when we get the real thing going.’
He pushed the laptop across to Kirsten, who was so thankful for a diversion she could have kissed him—again!
She studied the picture then followed the prompts, delighted to find how easy the program was to work, and how many diverse pictures it could produce. The bubble in which the prompts were written was attached to a little mechanical man, who performed any manner of antics as he made his suggestions. And when she hesitated, he tapped his foot as if impatient with her.
She was laughing at his antics when she sensed someone approach, and as she was expecting either Matt, or the waiter returning with their drinks, the arrival of Josh startled her.
‘A meeting, huh?’ he said, sliding into the chair Matt had vacated.
‘Yes!’ she snapped. ‘Do you want to see the computer program we’re discussing?’
But Josh couldn’t answer, his mouth too dry from the effect of a deep black V in the dress she was almost wearing, which drew his eyes to the slight suggestive swell of beautiful breasts.
And she was out with his cousin? The most licentious member of the family?
‘You met my mother the other night at the Bush Dance, so you’d know she’s joined the committee. Why don’t we all have dinner together? She’d love to see the program and as it’s only a meeting, I guess Matt wouldn’t mind.’
He’d managed to raise his eyes to her face by now, and smiled as he saw the little freckles darken, a sure sign heat was creeping into her cheeks. One up to him. Now he’d push her a little further!
‘And while Matt’s showing my mother the programs, we can discuss arrangements. Did you have a special time in mind tomorrow? Would you like to come to my place? You could shift in if you like. Or would you like me to come to your place?’
‘No!’
The word was so loud it must have shocked her, for she looked guiltily around, then tried a pathetic smile at the waiter bringing drinks.
Josh spoke to him, pointed out his mother and Matt and organised the shift to the table where he and Kirsten were.
As the man walked away, Josh turned his attention back to Kirsten, delighted to see she looked as bewildered as he’d felt this morning when she’d demanded they make ground rules for the ‘fling’, as she insisted on calling it.
But if he’d expected her to back down, he was wrong. She tilted her chin, and the defiance in the gesture stirred his body almost as much as the shadowy breasts had. She studied him for a moment as if making sure he was serious, then, as Matt and his mother approached the table, she said, ‘I couldn’t possibly shift in—it’d take all month to pack my clothes—but I’d be happier at your place.’
‘Less gossip, too?’
She shrugged. ‘There’s that.’
Kirsten looked at him and hoped the confusion she was feeling wasn’t reflected in her eyes. Looked at him and ached with wanting him, but at the same time feeling that this cold-blooded affair—no, damn it all, that was wrong, it was the hot-bloodedness that was causing all the problems—well, whatever it was—the fling—wasn’t right.
It wasn’t her, and she didn’t need a pop psychology quiz to tell her she was going to feel badly about it. Neither did she intend to admit to her friends that she was doing something so insane.
But if it got even a little of the wanting him out of the way…
Josh stood up, pulled out a chair for his mother, and was holding it, reminding her of who Kirsten was, playing host at Matt’s table.
Matt!
Kirsten glanced at him and caught the apologetic shrug of his shoulders.
‘Family!’ he said, as if that explained everything, then, as he sat and edged his chair a little closer to hers, he added, ‘Good thing it wasn’t a date!’
He then proceeded to show Joy the programs he’d devised, explaining in great detail how they worked. Kirsten watched the way the woman listened, saw the intelligence in her eyes as she grasped the different concepts, then used the touch pad to change images.
But though she watched Joy and Matt, her entire body was aware of Josh on her other side, the little hairs on her arms and legs erect with their knowledge of his presence.
‘This was your idea?’ Joy said to Kirsten. ‘It’s brilliant.’
‘It’s Matt’s work,’ Kirsten protested, surprised the words came out so clearly because her brain was clogged by desire. ‘Ideas are one thing, working out how to turn them into something real—that’s way beyond me.’
‘Not in every field, I hope,’ Josh murmured, and a fiery heat surging through her body added to her physical problems.
A waiter arrived to take their order, and the computer was shut down.
‘At least then we can pretend we’re out to enjoy a civilised dinner together,’ Josh said, though the way Kirsten was feeling, civilised was way off base.
Joy asked about the two special rooms, about how Jack was doing, and although Josh answered most of her questions, Kirsten was drawn in. Then Joy, perhaps realising Matt was being left out, reminded him of holidays he’d had out at her place.
‘You were the only one of all the kids who sat inside and played with the computer while the others rode, or swam in the creek, or generally ran wild.’
‘It was the only computer I was ever allowed to use,’ Matt reminded her. ‘Dad had one at home but it was in his office and that place was sacrosanct. It wasn’t until I was in my last years at high school he finally got himself a new one and passed the old one on to me.’
Kirsten heard a roughness in his voice, as if this silly little memory had prompted emotions he didn’t want to feel—or remember. She glanced from him to Josh, wondering about the Phillips men and what effect their fathering skills—or lack thereof—had had on their sons.
And while they joked and played ‘do you remember’ about their childhood holidays, she felt again that tingling, weakening rush of love for Josh that had prompted her to decide a month with him was better than nothing.
What she had to guard against was him realising this was what she felt, because if he ever caught even an inkling of it, she’d be out of his life before she could say the word ‘commitment’.
‘I’m sorry, I was miles away,’ she said to Joy, when she realised the older woman had leant across the table to ask her something.
‘I wondered if you’re seeing much of Matt. Is something going on between you?’
Kirsten smiled as she shook her head.
‘No, we’ve just been working on this project together. In fact, I’m buying him dinner by way of a thank you.’
Josh must have heard for he turned and his blue eyes looked hard into hers as if testing the truth of this statement. Then they softened, which brought back a now familiar problem with her knees, and he said softly, ‘Actually, I should pay. After all, it’s my project, and I dragged Matt into it.’
‘Fine by me,’ Matt said, then he grinned evilly at his cousin. ‘But I still get to drive the girl home!’
‘He’s crazy about you,’ Matt said to her, when they were driving home after they’d enjoyed a wonderful meal, talked and laughed a lot, and had generally had a good, if from Kirsten’s perspective, slightly uncomfortable evening.
‘Rubbish,’ she said. ‘It’s a challenge, nothing more. I’m probably the last remaining single woman in the hospital he hasn’t slept with.’
‘And are you going to change that situation?’ he asked, sliding a glance her way.
‘None of your business,’ she snapped, and he chortled with delight.
‘That means yes! Oh, dear, you do know what you’re doing, don’t you? We’re hopeless cases, all the Phillips men. I thought my father was bad, totally distancing himself from his kids, but at least he kept Mum around. Uncle Harold didn’t even pretend to care, though he must have gone home to Joy at least three times, unless she cheated on him, but given the way the boys all turned out—workaholics like their father—that’s unlikely.’
‘I think you use it as an excuse,’ Kirsten told him. ‘It’s easier to blame your genes than to expend the emotion required to have a real relationship. Oh, we’re Phillipses, you say, and go around thinking you’re entitled to hurt people.’
‘Hey, they’re harsh words!’ Matt protested, pulling up with a jolt outside her building.
‘But true!’ she told him. ‘And as well as hurting other people, you’re hurting yourselves. You’re stunting your growth—your emotional growth—like a little kid afraid to tackle something new, saying it’s too hard. It’s not because it’s too hard, it’s because you’re afraid you’ll fail—and Phillipses don’t fail. Except at relationships, and you excuse yourself about that before you even go into them.’
Matt leaned across and touched her lightly on the arm.
‘Have you told Josh all this?’
Kirsten was startled.
‘No!’
‘Why not?’ Matt asked. ‘Fear of failure?’
Her heart stood still, but she forced herself to think.
‘Probably,’ she admitted, then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘But you’re younger, so there’s hope for you. Forget the past and look towards the future—be the Phillips who proves he can be a good husband and father.’
Kirsten didn’t ask him in, assured him she could cross the footpath and go up in the lift with no risks and thanked him for all he’d done. He sat in the car, waiting until she was safely inside, but her mind wasn’t on the younger Phillips male, but the older one. The one she’d be seeing tomorrow.
And she began to think about what Matt had asked—about her own fear of failure.
But I’m a Collins, and Collinses never fail, she told herself as the lift took her up to the fourth floor.
A light shone under Gabi’s door and, knowing Alex was still away, she knocked quietly.
‘Hi. Good night?’ Gabi said, when she’d peered through the peep-hole then opened the door.
‘Great,’ Kirsten said, but didn’t elaborate. ‘Look, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I know Alex has a toolbox. Would he by any chance have a bit of sandpaper I could borrow?’
‘Sandpaper?’
‘Sandpaper.’
Gabi shook her head, shrugged, then trotted off, returning a little later with a square of sandpaper.
‘You’re not going to tell me why you need it, are you?’ she said, and Kirsten smiled at her.
‘No!’
Then she kissed Gabi on the cheek as she’d kissed Matt, said goodnight and crossed the foyer to her own door.
It was one minute past midday when Kirsten studied the button at the security door outside Josh’s building. Every cell in her body was quivering, though this time with doubt and fear rather than desire. It seemed such a wanton thing to be doing, walking into a man’s apartment to start an affair, but instinct told her there was something special between them, if she could just get past those barriers to love he had erected in his mind. This was her one shot, and she was gambling on it working.
Her forefinger hovered over the button, then resolutely pressed. Knowing a camera somewhere above the door would be showing her face up in Josh’s apartment, she resisted the temptation to smooth down her hair—or smile inanely.
What if he wasn’t at home?
What if he no longer wanted her, and here she was with a bag? Admittedly small and filled with little more than toiletries, spare undies, a change of clothes and a T-shirt or two, but she was rather assuming things.
‘Kirsten. What a delightful surprise. The door’s opening, and it’s the seventeenth floor.’
Her breathing had become so awkward she wondered about late onset asthma, but she couldn’t worry about that now, because she had to cross this big palm-adorned foyer and get into the lift, all the time remembering seventeen.
With a brain that no longer worked.
Somehow she made it, pressed the right button, then, as the lift doors opened high on seventeen, she saw Josh standing in front of her, the door to his apartment open behind him, so she could also see the river, and across it to the hospital.
Which, all of a sudden, seemed a very long way away.
Did he sense her panic that he took the small bag out of her nerveless fingers, then held her hand very tightly as he led her into the apartment.
‘Sit. I’ll get us a glass of wine—no, champagne! It has to be champagne.’
His voice was husky. Surely he couldn’t be nervous. He was used to this—this was what he did. Affairs with no strings attached. Stringless affairs.
Now he was pressing a glass into her hands, talking all the time, his voice soothing though she had no idea what he was saying.
Then he came and sat beside her, took her untouched glass out of her hand and set it on a side table, then turned her face so he could look into her eyes.
‘We don’t have to do this, you know. We’ll both survive without it. It might be hard at times but, Kirsten, I’m far too fond of you, and need you far too badly as a colleague, to force or even coerce you into something you don’t want to do.’
But with his fingers holding her chin, barely touching, barely stroking, yet causing flames of fierce desire to shoot through her body, how could she deny she needed him?
‘No,’ she said, surprised the word sounded so strong when she was practically boneless with apprehension—well, mostly apprehension. ‘I do want it. I’ve even brought some sandpaper.’
Dark eyebrows twitched into a frown, and Kirsten wanted to run her fingers across his forehead to smooth the skin. Was it too early to touch him?
‘Sandpaper?’ Josh repeated the word in such a disbelieving voice she smiled at him.
‘For your bedpost,’ she explained. ‘I might just be another notch in your bedpost, but while I’m here I want to be the only notch, all right?’
‘Oh, Kirsten!’ he said, laughing as he gathered her into his arms, laughing as he kissed her, gently at first, then with increasing passion. As night followed day, the fire that had always flared between them soon had them grappling with each other’s clothes, and he chuckled once again.
‘I’d need a mighty big bedpost to put your notch in.’
After which there was no need for words, or not for a very long time, until pangs of hunger woke Kirsten from an exhausted sleep and she looked around. Somehow they’d made their way into the bedroom, though her recollection of the journey was a bit vague.
And though she knew Josh had made it with her, he wasn’t here now.
She slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom, showering quickly because this was all so new and she wasn’t certain of the etiquette attached to flings. She pulled on one of the T-shirts she’d brought with her, but nothing else. Stripping off each other’s clothes earlier had taken an age—whipping off a T-shirt seemed like a much easier option.
Josh was in the kitchen and must have heard her approach, for he turned, smiled at her, then stepped forward to take her in his arms and kiss her cheek, her neck, her shoulder—
‘I’ve got to eat,’ she said, stopping as the nuzzling moved lower and wanting him was now vying with her appetite for food.
‘Do you think I hadn’t figured that out?’ he said. ‘Look, the domesticated male, preparing a meal for his lady-love.’
And Kirsten looked, seeing the big wicker tray on the bench behind him, with an array of tempting and exotic nibbles on it.
‘Finger food—tactile,’ he said, picking up an olive and popping it into Kirsten’s mouth, then sighing with appreciation as she licked the salty taste of it from his fingers.
‘Keep that up, and it could be hours before you eat,’ he warned, then he pulled her close again and she relaxed against him, knowing that so far it hadn’t been too hard.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HARD started at midnight, when the shrilling telephone woke them both.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Josh said, shrugging into clothes and leaning over to kiss Kirsten at the same time. ‘I’m sor—’
She stopped his lips with a kiss.
‘Don’t you dare apologise,’ she said, then added, ‘It’s not Jack, is it?’ Her heart was beating so hard with fear it was a wonder he heard, but he must have for he shook his head.
‘Young Michael McKenna. There’s something wrong there.’
