IT WAS AFTER midnight before Bryn walked back in the front door, and it had been a tough day. Archie had miraculously organised one locum neurologist to start work, which was supposed to have given Bryn Saturday off, but the locum was young and seemed a bit unsure—and Bryn wasn’t trusting Maureen to a colleague he hardly knew.
An initial scan at the nearest hospital had confirmed the stroke was ischaemic—clotting on the brain. He’d injected alteplase—a drug that assisted in dissolving clots. Its early use could have been a lifesaver all on its own, but when they arrived at Sydney Central—a teaching hospital where stroke treatment was state-of-the-art—a further scan showed the clot wasn’t dissolving fast enough.
That meant surgery—endovascular clot retrieval—and every one of his skills had to be brought to the fore.
By the time he left Theatre he was wiped.
Why?
The surgery needed hairline precision, with a woman’s life at stake, so yes, the surgery was tricky, but he was used to cutting-edge surgery. He wasn’t the head of the neurology department of one of Australia’s top hospitals for nothing.
Normally he could turn off from the people in his care. He had to. His nerves needed to be rock steady, so during surgery he couldn’t afford to think of the people under his care as...people. They could be individuals before surgery when he was assessing, informing, reassuring, and they’d be individuals afterwards when he saw them recovering in the wards. But once under anaesthetic, when every part of him needed to focus on what he was doing, they had to be technical cases, challenges to be conquered.
Today had been different. He hardly knew Maureen, but those shocked white faces—Kiara’s and Alice’s—had stayed with him. They’d made him see—maybe for the first time—why surgeons stood back when their own family or friends were the patients.
He’d never thought like that. He’d never thought he’d have to, but today, if there’d been someone he was sure was just as competent to call on, he would have stepped back himself.
As it was, he’d held it together. There’d been dicey moments when Maureen’s heart had faltered, but his team was good. The intervention had been early enough for him to be able to tell Maureen’s anxious family that he held every hope of a full recovery.
Afterwards he’d faced the drive back to Two Tails and his leg had ached—no, all of him had ached. For some stupid reason he wasn’t able to stop his hands from trembling on the steering wheel. What the hell was wrong with him?
And then he pulled into the driveway and Kiara was stepping out onto the veranda to meet him. And as he opened the car door, she came down to him in a rush, stopping for a millisecond as she reached him—and then she was folded in his arms. Her face was in his chest, he could feel her trembling—to match the trembling of his own hands—and he thought...
Maureen? Was he was shaking like a leaf over the fate of a woman he’d known for little more than a week?
No. He was shaking because Kiara loved her. Because the outcome of his surgery had never seemed so important.
His trembling had stopped now that she was folded into his arms, now that he held her close, now that his chin was on her curls. Now he was...home?
It was a weird thought, a flash among other thoughts he couldn’t process because he was too busy holding her. Hugging her. Feeling that here was...
No. With a huge effort he managed to get his voice to work.
‘Hey, Kiara, it’s okay. You got my phone call? There’s every chance she’ll make a good recovery. She has her husband with her, and her daughters. She’s surrounded by people who love her, and in the best of places. You can let it go.’
But even as he said it, he knew it was wrong. He felt her stiffen, just slightly. But still she held, still her face was buried in his chest, still she was taking the comfort she so obviously needed.
‘Maureen was pretty much my grandma’s only friend,’ she said, her voice muffled because she wasn’t moving from his chest. ‘Grandma was a loner, but Maureen just barged in and cared. When I came here as a little girl, Maureen was a constant. She’s my friend, like Hazel is my friend.’ She took a deep breath and pushed away a little, just enough so she could say what she needed to say. ‘She’s pretty much all the family I have.’
And what was there in that that made his gut lurch? That made him want to tug her back tighter against him. That made him want to say...
No. The sensations he was feeling now were almost overwhelming, but he had enough sense to realise he needed to keep his head. He had a sudden memory of a nanny, employed for almost four years from when he’d been three to when he was seven. Of his father telling him that they were moving, and Gloria would be leaving.
‘There’ll be a new nanny during holidays, and you’ll be at boarding school most of the time anyway. Only babies make a fuss.’
Why that memory now? Why the almost instinctive muscle memory to pull himself into himself, to brace...
‘C-come in.’ Kiara was visibly tugging herself together, pulling away, swiping her eyes. ‘Oh, thank God you were here, Bryn, but you must be exhausted. There’s a gorgeous rich soup that Maureen made for us...’ She choked a little on that but bit her lip and turned back to the house, leaving him to follow. ‘She’ll give us a hard time if we waste it, so let’s get it into you and then get some sleep.’
The house was still a muddle after the sale, packing boxes, furniture shoved aside so things could be moved easily, mess. The kitchen was cluttered, but the smell of the soup was warmly welcoming.
‘The mess is for tomorrow,’ Kiara said wearily as she poured two bowls. ‘I’ll eat with you if you don’t mind. Alice ate before she went to bed—she loved the soup, and she was so tired and proud of what she did today—but I couldn’t eat until I heard from you.’
And then, because it seemed the only obvious place to go, they headed once again for the open fire in the living room. She’d obviously built it up during the long hours of waiting, sitting by the flames, taking comfort from its warmth.
‘Bunji should be with you,’ he told her, because the thought of her sitting here alone, waiting for news of her friend, was adding to emotions he was struggling to understand.
‘Bunji’s Alice’s dog now,’ she said firmly, and managed a tired smile. ‘And Alice needed her. She was frightened about Maureen, but we counted our loot—wow, we did well, by the way—then she took Bunji off to a quiet part of the garden and told her all about it. I watched them as everyone left and...it helped. That they’re content. That she has Bunji she can talk to.’
He nodded, thinking it through. Hearing the note of strain in her voice. Still remembering the sensation of that hug, of her walking into his arms and holding on.
‘So who do you turn to when you need to talk?’
‘Same as you, I guess,’ she said simply. ‘We’ve learned to be independent.’
‘Sometimes independence sucks.’
‘Does it?’ she asked curiously. ‘Don’t you need it?’
He didn’t answer. He found he couldn’t.
The answer should have been obvious. Yes, he valued his independence. It’d been instilled into him since birth, to rely on himself and himself alone, and it was all he knew. But there was something about this night. Something about this woman...
She wasn’t waiting for a response. She addressed herself instead to her bowl of soup and left him to silence.
She was letting him be. Respecting his need for space. For his precious independence.
She always would, he thought. All her animals, all her clients—she spent her life figuring who needed what, and then fixing it for them. Alice was healing because of Kiara. Even him... Yeah, he’d been floundering when Kiara had come into his life, but she’d pretty much sorted it. She’d invited them into her home while Alice had bonded with Bunji, she’d allowed him to resume his career without feeling guilty, she’d encouraged his fledgling relationship with his niece. She’d figured a way they could all move forward.
But what about Kiara? He looked around at the stripped living room. She’d obviously gone overboard with her yard sale and the place looked barren. Almost everything had been sold. What he’d paid her, combined with what she’d earned by today’s sale, would surely enable her to keep Two Tails running for a good while longer. Even if it didn’t, then she must surely agree to let him help even more.
But the thought of her living on here alone...
He’d been shocked when he’d walked back in tonight. He’d expected her to sell things she hadn’t needed, but she’d taken it to extremes. No wonder she was pleased with her takings—she’d practically stripped the place bare.
It was still liveable, but without her grandmother’s clutter, stripped to the bones of furniture...did it look like a home any longer?
Home?
Why did that word keep surfacing?
It was tied, almost inextricably, with Kiara.
He thought of her as he’d seen her when he’d left with Maureen. She’d been standing in the driveway, holding Alice’s hand. With a battered dog at her feet. With a community around her...
Home.
An idea was stirring—or maybe it had stirred already but it was growing stronger by the minute.
A plan?
But overriding his embryonic plan was the sensation that he wanted to be closer to this woman, and he wanted it right now.
She finished her soup and set her bowl aside, then looked queryingly up at him. He’d sunk into one of the two remaining armchairs, but she’d settled on the rug, closer to the fire. ‘Finished?’ she asked. ‘Bed?’
‘It sounds good to me,’ he said, a trifle unsteadily, and he set his bowl carefully with hers and then reached down and traced her cheekbone with his finger. ‘You need to sleep, too.’
‘I’m not sure I can.’ And she lifted her hand and covered his.
There was a long silence, a silence while the world seemed to hold it breath. Her hand was warm on his, and his fingers cupped her face. The link seemed to be strengthening by the minute. The pull.
The need to be close.
And then he kissed her.
She’d kissed him before—twice. They hadn’t been...kisses, though. They’d meant something to him, but he’d told himself they’d just been a part of Kiara’s warmth, Kiara’s need to comfort.
There was no way this kiss was about comfort. This kiss was about...everything.
The culmination of a hell of a day? The culmination of months of hell?
No. This kiss was so much more. As her mouth met his, as she twisted and knelt so she could sink into the kiss, as the contact melded and burned...
This was about nothing but them. A man and a woman and pure physical desire.
And maybe even more than that.
It was a kiss like he’d never experienced. A kiss that seemed a joining, an affirmation of an aching need to be closer, closer than he’d ever felt with another soul.
She was in his arms now, holding him as he was holding her. He could feel her desire matching his. Oh, this woman... Kiara...
His...love?
The word terrified him—had always terrified him—but right now it seemed the only one available. But he’d think about it later. Right now, there was only Kiara, only this moment, only this kiss.
And when the kiss ended—as even the best kisses must inevitably end—when he finally managed to speak, he hardly recognised his voice. It was deep, husky, aching with want.
The way she was holding him...the warmth of her...the sheer loveliness... He could scarcely make his voice work, but somehow, he said it. ‘Kiara, I won’t take advantage of you but if you...’
He paused. He had no right to say this, no right to ask.
But she was gazing back up at him, her eyes inches from him, wide, honest, meeting his gaze head on.
‘You’re asking?’ Amazingly her smile emerged again. Half teasing. Half tender.
‘It’s your house,’ he said, feeling helpless because he was way out of his comfort zone. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—push this woman when he owed her so much.
When he wanted her so much.
‘Your house,’ he managed again, and his hand was cupping her chin, his eyes locked on hers. ‘Your rules.’
‘Then hooray for that,’ she said, and for heaven’s sake, the teasing note was uppermost again. ‘Bryn, I’ve been wanting to jump your body for days now—no, make that weeks. And it’s dumb, you’re my client and I’m old enough to know that mixing business with pleasure is a disaster, but you’re leaving soon and...’
‘And?’
‘And I think you’d better kiss me again,’ she told him, and her hand gripped his even more firmly. Strong and sure. This was a woman who’d made a decision. Who knew what she wanted and had every intention of taking it.
‘If you want me,’ she said simply, ‘I’m sleeping in my grandma’s bed and it’s a double. There’s no pressure, Bryn. No expectations, no claims on a future, but we’re both grown up and we’ve had one hell of a day. So for tonight... It would be my very great pleasure to share.’
Whoops.
That probably wasn’t the most romantic thought to wake to, but it was there, front and centre, a great, fat thought bubble the moment she opened her eyes to daylight.
She did, however, wake gloriously. There was no denying that last night had been extraordinary. She’d fallen into Bryn’s arms, probably out of exhaustion, or a surfeit of emotion, or relief. But lust had played a big part, too, and sense had taken a back seat. She’d practically invited him into her bed—okay, she had invited him into her bed, and maybe it had been worth every moment of whatever the consequences would be.
There shouldn’t be any, she told herself. She’d had brief relationships in the past, and surely the guy she’d slept with was experienced? They both knew what they were doing. The sex had been mind-blowingly good. It had been a fabulous night, blasting everything apart from physical need out of both of their minds.
So why had she woken thinking Whoops?
Because she’d also woken up feeling as if she wouldn’t mind staying exactly where she was for the rest of her life.
And that was crazy. There’d been no commitment on either side, and neither should there be. Soon Bryn would leave. His new housekeeper had been employed. Alice would start at her new school in Clovelly and life would restart for all of them.
With the money she’d earned she could keep Two Tails going a while longer. Maybe there’d be other avenues of fundraising. She’d been running on the smell of an oily rag for years now, and she’d just keep going.
By herself.
No, she told herself firmly, managing to think it through, even though she was spooned into the curve of Bryn’s body, even though the warmth, the strength of him were a siren call that was melting something within. She wouldn’t be by herself. She’d have her dogs. She’d have Maureen back again. She’d have Hazel’s friendship, she’d have her community, she’d...
Not have Bryn.
Which wouldn’t matter. There was no need at all for her to lie here and think Whoops. The whoops was because of the way he made her feel—as if everything she needed in life was right here, in the curve of his body, in the way he held her, loved her...
He didn’t love her. That thought blindsided her and also...the way she felt about him.
What was she doing, falling for a rich, arrogant, self-centred doctor who was nothing to do with her world?
Except she sort of had, and there was little she could do about it except think... Whoops.
He stirred and his arms firmed around her. She wriggled around to face him, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him as he woke—because a woman would have to be inhuman to do otherwise. And when he smiled at her, when his eyes were inches from hers, when his gorgeous body responded, and heat and desire flared all over again...
Whoops indeed, but the time to cope with the future... Well, that was for the future.
‘Good morning, my love,’ he murmured as he gathered her against him and their worlds merged into a glorious moment of pure, animal bliss.
‘It’s a very good morning,’ she whispered back.
Despite the whoops.
The world had to break in, and it broke in soon.
A group of locals arrived to give Kiara a hand clearing up the mess from yesterday’s sale, sorting stuff that had been sold, generally turning the day into a working bee. The yard sale itself had generated interest, but Maureen’s collapse had tapped into community concern. Kiara was surrounded.
Bryn needed to head back to Sydney Central to check on Maureen. Yes, his new locum was more than capable of doing what was needed, but he needed to clear his head.
He needed to think about the plan that had half formed the night before.
Last night had been life changing. Last night had dispersed any doubts he’d had about his embryonic idea. It was starting to seem brilliant, from every angle he looked at it.
There were problems, he conceded, but they were minor. Two Tails was a fair distance from Sydney Central. Almost an hour’s drive was too much when he worked six days a week, with call-backs in emergencies. Could he commute? Would Kiara consider moving her premises somewhere closer? His house at Clovelly wouldn’t work, he conceded that, but somewhere else...
They’d work it out together, he thought.
If she agreed.
And the thought came suddenly, the question seeming like a kick in the guts. ‘What if she doesn’t agree?’
It didn’t matter, he told himself. The alternative was surely going on as they’d organised. Plan A had always been to take take Alice back to Clovelly, to depend on his new housekeeper for out-of-school care, to get on with his independent life. The idea of combining his and Kiara’s life...yeah, it had advantages, especially for Alice, but surely it was Plan B.
Except it wasn’t. He’d woken with Kiara in his arms, and he’d felt...as he’d never felt before. As he’d never expected to feel.
As if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman in his arms.
And that was a dumb thought. His independence was everything. The thought of needing her...
No. This wasn’t need—at least, not his need. It couldn’t be. All the lessons he’d learned throughout his isolated childhood, every time he’d sworn not to get attached...those rules had been rammed home with pain that was bone deep. The thought of opening himself to that level of exposure was unthinkable. He couldn’t go there.
But Plan B was practical as well as desirable, he told himself, shoving emotion aside. Alice and Kiara could be gloriously happy together. Kiara would allow him to fund Two Tails into the future and every night when he came home...
Yeah, that was like a siren’s song.
But it was still sensible, and he needed to be sensible. So... Where to go from here?
Should he buy a diamond and do the romantic bit?
No. He thought of Kiara’s teasing smile, he thought of himself down on one knee and thought she’d probably break into laughter.
He smiled at the vision.
‘She’s just as sensible as I am,’ he said out loud as he drove. ‘Just as independent. Just as aware of long-term advantages. If she’d like a diamond, of course she can have one, but this will be on her terms. As my part of the contract will be on my terms.’
It did sound sensible but there was a part of him that wasn’t feeling very sensible. The part of him that had woken with Kiara in his arms and had felt as if sensible was...melting.
‘Hold it together,’ he told himself roughly. ‘If you let emotion get in the way of sensible, she’ll be the first to back away. We both know the rules.’
And then he was turning into the hospital car park and the world of medicine enclosed him again.
Which was the way he liked it. A world where he could spend his life trying to fix chaos.
A world where he didn’t risk exposing his own life to the same.