Dear Doctor, page 9
Josh moved more slowly, his eyes on her face, a million questions in the blueness.
‘It’s no use,’ she said to him, shaking her head as she tried to deny what she was about to admit. ‘Whatever it is between us isn’t going to go away just because we want it to. Unless we have—’ somehow ‘sex’ seemed too raw a word though that was undoubtedly all it would be ‘—that physical relationship.’
Josh looked startled, but obviously grasped the content, for his hand moved towards her and she knew, within seconds, she’d be back in his arms.
She leapt to her feet, moving more from temptation than from the man who offered it.
‘Not yet,’ she said, then laughed ruefully and shook her head again. ‘No, it’s not a “not yet” like last time—like my month-long embargo. This is a serious not yet, Josh. A “not until I’m unengaged” not yet. I’ve got to do that first. Tell Grant. Be free. I couldn’t cheat, couldn’t do that. Do you understand?’
No! Not any of it, Josh could have said, but something so blunt might have destroyed the delicate balance that had apparently manifested itself between them. What he did understand was that he was finally—and hopefully before too long—going to get Kirsten into his bed. He was going to make love to his flaming, erratic comet and get all the fantasies, and his father’s dire warning, out of his system once and for all.
‘Do we have a timetable for this plan? This unengagement?’
It sounded cold and callous, but it needed to be said.
Green eyes, so troubled it took all his strength not to take her in his arms again, looked appealingly into his.
‘He should be down soon. Or maybe I can phone—or write…’
The words dropped hesitantly into the air between them and he knew she was already hurting for the man he didn’t know.
Already regretting the decision?
No! She was too honest and straight-down-the-line to play games like that, but he sure as hell was mucking up her life.
And the other man’s…
But for all the troubled shadows in her eyes, the cool, practical Phillips voice in his head took the opportunity to point out that this was further proof why a woman like Kirsten was such utterly unsuitable wife material.
Breaking off an engagement with one man because of a physical attraction to another?
For sex with another, to put it bluntly?
Not good!
‘Perhaps we’d better cut down some trees,’ he said abruptly, and heard Kirsten sigh.
Had she expected him to be more romantic?
He strode away—from the idea and from her—assuming she’d follow.
She hadn’t been romantic about it, he reminded himself, justifying both his acceptance of her decision and the manner in which he’d finished the discussion. She’d made it sound like some contract she was about to undertake. And she knew the rules—well, his rule about no future. So romance didn’t really come into it.
But apparently, like him, she’d reached the stage where she couldn’t go forward into her own future until this attraction between them had been squared away.
He was walking back to where he’d left the chainsaw as he considered all of this, then he realised she wasn’t following. He turned and saw her kneeling by the creek, where she’d been when he’d returned earlier. And seeing her there, her fingers trailing dreamily in the water, her thick hair swinging forward to hide her face, he felt a jab of deep sadness in the region of his heart, as if the affair were already over and they were parted, and nothing remained but his memories.
Which were fickle things at best—just look at the way he felt about the creek!
Kirsten knew she should follow, but if she’d expected happiness to erupt within her now she’d made a decision, she was sadly disappointed.
Not that she had expected happiness. Relief, perhaps? A certain excitement? But all she felt was nothing.
Perhaps her emotions had shut down—or been put on hold—until she spoke to Grant. And that was difficult. By rights, she’d have preferred to have done it in person rather than over the phone—definitely not by email. But if she wouldn’t be seeing him for a month…
Or perhaps it was because she knew it had no future, but had realised she could no longer hold out against the attraction she felt for Josh. So she’d be going into the very kind of relationship she’d always sworn she wouldn’t have. Hell, her month-long-embargo had grown out of distaste for so-called ‘flings’. Get to know the man first, she’d decided, then see where she wanted to go with him.
A well-planned, sensible course.
Until Josh Phillips had entered her life!
She left the creek, and walked towards the loud rumble of a machine—no doubt, cutting branches off a tree. Sadness walked beside her, as if the brief affair were already over before it had begun and she was feeling the pain she knew the future held for her.
Josh stopped for long enough to tell her to stay clear, then started the big saw again, moving from tree to tree until it looked as if a whole mini-forest had been felled.
‘OK, now we load them,’ he said, grabbing a branch and dragging it towards the trailer.
How romantic! Kirsten wanted to say, but she knew this time she’d made the rules—and the first move—so she could hardly ask for romance.
They worked together, loading the branches, then with a coil of blue and yellow rope from the back of the Range Rover Josh tied them down.
‘I’ve more rope there—what else do we need?’ he asked, and she looked at him, wondering how he could be just the way he’d been before they’d kissed.
Before she’d made the momentous decision.
But why wouldn’t he be? After all, he didn’t have an engagement he had to break, a fiancé he had to hurt. He was getting what he’d wanted all along, with no risk to his plans, or his emotions.
If he had any…
She shot a glance at him, and realised he was waiting for her to answer him.
‘I can’t think of anything,’ she said, and saw him smile and move a little closer.
‘No?’ he murmured, but he made no further move, just stood there, within touching—kissing—distance, making her heart pound with the excitement of wanting him and her head hurt with the ramifications of what she was about to do.
‘No!’ she said firmly, and turned away from him, aware that she had to talk to Grant as soon as possible. If she delayed and Josh continued to play these games whenever they were together, she’d go screaming mad from frustration.
Talking work helped, and when they reached the hospital a dozen nurses were running around with straw bales and country paraphernalia so she was safe from more distractions—or distracted enough to be safe from her own desires.
‘Thanks,’ she said to Josh, when he’d finished tying up the branches, now standing up against pillars and walls and looking more like trees. ‘I know you’ve got a ward round to do, so we can finish up here.’
He hesitated but in the end he walked away with nothing more than, ‘See you later, then.’ Kirsten wondered about that hesitation, then with a heavy heart guessed what it might have meant.
According to hospital gossip, Josh was rarely without a woman in his life. So, no doubt, he’d intended bringing the present incumbent in that role to the dance tonight. He’d hesitated over whether he should explain this to Kirsten—or just arrive with someone like Roberta Smythe, whose social pedigree was as flawless as the Phillipses’ medical one.
Not that someone with a fiancé of her own required such an explanation…
Jill had arranged sandwiches to be delivered from the canteen, so Kirsten and the other helpers worked through lunchtime, finally, at four, agreeing that the gym looked as good as it would ever look. Tired and dusty, she made her way home.
To find two surprises.
One was hovering in the doorway of the other flat on the fourth floor, obviously waiting for her return. Six feet three, and all muscle, he ignored her exclamations of surprise and swept her into his arms for a hearty kiss. Not quite the moment to tell him she didn’t want to be engaged to him any more. Then Gabi appeared. She’d been delegated to hire a costume for Kirsten, and the plastic suit-bag in her hand suggested she’d done just that. Even found a hat, if the hatbox in her other hand was any indication.
‘I know you’ll probably shriek,’ she told Kirsten, with a smile at her brother that suggested he already knew what was going on, ‘but there wasn’t much left in your size. You could have been a chorus girl from an old Wild West saloon, but the fishnet stockings had big holes in them—or you could be Dolly.’
She passed the hatbox and suit-bag to Kirsten then, turning to her brother, said, ‘And don’t you laugh. I got you a country-and-western-style shirt and a huge hat to go with it.’
‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘I’m a country boy. I was going to go as myself.’
Kirsten ignored the banter, stuck in a track of her own.
Dolly?
Dolly Parton?
‘Dolly Parton’s blonde!’ she protested, and Gabi smiled.
Hoping she wouldn’t find what she thought she’d find, Kirsten opened the hat-box. Inside was a blonde wig—definitely Dolly Parton.
She smiled at Gabi who was watching her in trepidation.
‘OK, I’ll go along with this,’ she told her friend, ‘but while the wig might help as far as hair is concerned, I haven’t got her other attributes.’
Gabi laughed and excused herself, reminding Kirsten that a group of Near West tenants were meeting at Mickey’s at six for an early meal before going on to the dance.
Alone with Grant, Kirsten wondered what to say. Grant solved the problem momentarily by kissing her again. But when the kiss left her feeling uneasy rather than elated, she knew she had to tell him.
But right now?
Or should she leave it until after the dance?
Let him enjoy himself first? After all, he’d obviously flown down especially for it.
A second kiss decided the matter. How could she kiss Grant while her body lusted after Josh?
She pulled out of his arms, and looked up into his rugged face, smiling lips and sparkling eyes.
‘You’re going to tell me I rushed you into this engagement, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Well, I did, and that’s done but I’m not going to rush you any more. We can take all the time we want before we get married. And I’m not going to listen to anything negative you have to say about it.’
‘Not going to listen?’ Kirsten repeated. ‘What do you mean, you’re not going to listen?’
‘Just that,’ he said, almost smugly, as he bent and kissed her again.
‘But it isn’t a matter of time. I want to give you back the ring. I should never have accepted it in the first place,’ she protested, dodging away from the approaching lips and struggling to pull the ring off her finger. Of course, after all the work she’d been doing, her fingers had swollen and the ring wasn’t going anywhere.
‘See, it won’t come off, which proves it’s meant to be,’ Grant said calmly. ‘And even if you do get it off, I won’t take it back, and if you don’t wear it you’ll probably lose it, or have it stolen, and it’s quite valuable, you know.’
Kirsten stopped struggling with the piece of jewellery and stared, bemused, at the man who’d given it to her.
‘B-but that’s the w-way people break engagements,’ she stuttered. ‘The woman gives back the ring. You have to take it.’
‘Some other time, maybe,’ Grant said easily, smiling at her as if she were a recalcitrant child. ‘I bet this is all because you’re hungry. Gabi’s still got some of Mum’s Christmas cake at her place. I’ll duck in and get us some.’
‘I don’t want Christmas cake,’ Kirsten told his departing back, but something told her he would ignore that statement as easily as he’d ignored her attempts to break off the engagement.
He returned with a tray containing not only Christmas cake but a plate of biscuits, cheese and fruit as well.
‘There, you have a nibble at this while you shower and get dressed. You’ve no idea how much better you’ll feel.’
Kirsten doubted it. What she actually felt was as if the top of her head were about to explode.
‘I won’t feel better until we’ve sorted this out,’ she shrieked at him, then realised her voice was probably carrying across the foyer to Gabi and Alex’s flat.
But she didn’t want to shut her door with Grant still on this side of it.
‘Which we’ll do,’ he said, putting his hand on her shoulder with the lightest of touches. ‘All in good time. I promise.’
He smiled as if that was his last word on the subject, and Kirsten, realising she might as well argue with the door, shook her head and grabbed a piece of cake.
‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she muttered, then realised she was, in fact, obeying his instructions—eating cake, taking a shower, wearing the ring—but not feeling better at all.
She turned back towards him and tried again.
‘There’s someone else,’ she said, and though she sensed a flicker of movement in his body, there was no obvious reaction to her blunt words.
‘Are you going to marry him?’
The question shook her, and she answered automatically.
‘No!’
‘Good. Then we can stay engaged.’
‘While I have an affair with someone else?’
Disbelief raised her voice about twenty-seven octaves and she wondered again just how much the Grahams might be hearing.
‘Do you love him?’
Kirsten hesitated.
‘No. It’s just something I have to get out of my system.’
‘I can handle that,’ Grant said, so calmly Kirsten began to wonder if she was dreaming. ‘I can wait.’
Again Kirsten couldn’t find the words she needed, not immediately. And when they did come, they were so faint, so hesitant, it was a wonder he heard them.
‘No, that’s not fair either,’ she whispered. ‘Because though that’s how it will be, an affair and an ending, I’m afraid it mightn’t end for me, and all I’d be offering you was what was left—not second best exactly, but not a whole heart either.’
He took her in his arms and held her close, so she could feel the beating of his heart against his chest wall. His hand stroked her hair, a gentle giant, comforting her when she was the one causing pain.
‘You even sound confused,’ he said softly, ‘which proves I’m right. So take your time, wear the ring, especially tonight so we don’t have to explain anything to Gabi and Alex, then have your fling with this other chap and let the future take care of itself.’
He eased her away and smiled down at her.
‘Now go and have that shower. You’re the grubbiest woman I’ve held in my arms for a long time!’ He smiled. ‘We’ll live for the moment. And since I’ve flown in especially to take you to the dance, let’s make tonight a night to remember.’
She didn’t respond to that suggestion—she had an awful feeling what it might be like with Grant and Josh in the same room—but did head for the shower, although her movements were slow, her feet dragging, as if her floor were suddenly thick with treacle.
Had she broken off her engagement?
She’d certainly told Grant in every possible way she could that it was over, even if he had refused to listen.
Was there such a thing as a one-sided engagement?
Damn the man—what was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have been upset, or jealous, or flown into a towering rage, like any normal man?
Though once she got the ring off—and gave it back—then surely everything would be OK.
And whatever happened, he was right about tonight. He’d flown down because she’d asked him to accompany her to the dance—at least she could make an effort to see he enjoyed himself.
While the ‘night to remember’ aspect of it all was virtually assured—one way or another.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS certainly going to be a night to remember, Kirsten realised when she eventually pulled the Dolly Parton dress over her head and tugged to adjust it around her body. It was made of soft golden suede, with long tassels dangling across the yoke at the back, from pockets on the top and right around the hem of the very minimal skirt. But it was the top that worried her more than the skirt length.
Some engineering feat in the construction of the bodice meant her quite satisfactory though not over-abundant breasts had taken on the look of Dolly’s most startling attributes. And try as she may to tug the neckline higher, or to persuade some of the leather tassels to fall across what seemed like acres of bulging breast-flesh, nothing changed. She was going to have to spoil the fun of the party by not dressing up, or go along with an eye-catching cleavage that would be the talk of the hospital for months.
‘At least you have the wig. No one will know who you are,’ Gabi said, when, caught between despair and disaster, Kirsten dashed across the foyer to demand help.
‘But look at me,’ Kirsten wailed. ‘I’m practically indecent.’
‘Nonsense! I find it extremely attractive.’
Alex had joined them and, while not exactly ogling Kirsten’s over-revealed chest, he had certainly taken note of it.
Then Grant appeared in a red satin shirt with silver braid on it.
His eyes, too, were drawn to Kirsten’s problem.
‘Mmm. Nice!’
Kirsten took a swing at him.
‘This isn’t funny! I’m supposed to be in costume.’
‘You are in costume,’ Gabi pointed out. ‘And they don’t look vulgar. Just not like you.’
‘Are they false?’ Grant asked, and Kirsten resisted the urge to hit him again. Then she realised he was trying to help and shook her head.
‘It’s some kind of structural engineering in the top. Someone as flat as a pancake would probably look the same. I’ll have to wear a jacket—or a cardigan—cover them up.’
Grant took her hand.
‘No way! I’m going there looking like a goose in this shirt, and you look absolutely gorgeous. If it bothers you, just keep dancing. I’ll hold you close and no one need see.’
