Kitabı oku: «A Surgeon For The Single Mum», sayfa 3
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU DIDN’T HAVE to wait down here.’
Tak frowned as he sauntered into her lobby like some kind of Hollywood action hero. Sleek and burnished and sheer masculine magnificence—a stark contrast to the shabby, grubby, in-need-of-repair surroundings.
Effie felt her heartbeat actually hang for a moment, before galloping wildly back into life as an unexpected, unwanted tingle coursed over her skin. It was a momentary reprieve from the anxiety which had flushed her body ever since her daughter had dropped the mother of all bombshells on her, barely a few minutes ago. Just as she’d been about to walk out of the door.
If it hadn’t been for the knowledge that Tak would come up to the flat if she wasn’t in the lobby to stop him, she might have dropped everything and spent the entire night talking to—or rather yelling at—her daughter about her monumentally stupid lapse in judgement.
In some ways this night with Tak was a silver lining. It would give her space and a chance to calm down. If she blurted out to her daughter all the things that were racing around her head at this moment in time, then she might easily ruin their relationship for a long, long time to come.
Still, Effie told herself darkly that her reaction to Tak was simply due to the rush of cold night air accompanying his entrance.
She knew it wasn’t true.
So much for her efforts these past couple of days in telling herself that she had a handle on the situation. That her initial reaction to Tak had simply been a result of being caught off-guard. That now she’d had exposure to him she would be able to build up her resistance.
How on earth had she ever agreed to this?
‘I would have come to your door,’ he continued pointedly.
Effie thought of Nell, several storeys above them, and was pretty sure her daughter could sense her fury from all the way up there in the flat. And that was without the additional consideration of old Mrs Appleby from next door, who was babysitting Nell and never let the fact that she was practically deaf prevent her from sniffing out even a whiff of gossip. Seeing Tak Basu would be her scoop of the year. Of the decade, even.
‘It’s fine.’ She shook her head and forced a smile. ‘It isn’t a proper date, remember?’
For the next few hours she would welcome the distraction. It would do her and Nell good to have the evening apart. Time to think.
‘I’m glad to see that you do.’ His voice sounded different from how she remembered. As if he was distracted. ‘Although I should say you look stunning.’
Heat flooded her cheeks—and something else that she didn’t care to identify. She pretended it was merely concern that people might recognise her dress for the cheap, off-the-sale-rack, several-seasons-old gown that it was.
‘Thank you.’
It didn’t seem to matter how many times she told herself that he didn’t mean anything by it, that it was just something any date would say—fake or otherwise. Her body didn’t seem in the least bit interested in listening to such reason.
‘Your hair is...stunning.’
She didn’t know how she managed to stop her hands from lifting automatically to touch her head. It had taken her hours to get her hair like this—she would say she was hopelessly out of practice, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever been in practice—and she was pleased with the results. Thick, glossy, soft curls. It was the most glamorous she’d felt in a long time.
It was only fitting that she should spoil it all by saying something ridiculously prosaic and work-related. ‘Did you know there’s a study showing that natural redheads often need around twenty percent more anaesthetic than people with other hair colours to reach the same levels of sedation?’
‘There have been several studies,’ he confirmed gravely, but she couldn’t shake the impression that he was concealing his amusement. ‘They appear to confirm redheads as a distinct phenotype linked to anaesthetic requirement.’
Of course he knew. He was a neurosurgeon, after all. Well, that was her bank of small talk exhausted. Not that it seemed to matter when her brain froze as he stepped up to her and offered his arm.
For one brief moment the sight of Tak—so mouth-wateringly handsome in a bespoke tuxedo, the cut of which somehow achieved the impossible by allowing his already well-built body to look all the more powerful and dangerous—made her wonder what it would be like to go on a real date with someone like him.
She might have said made her yearn, had she not already known that was impossible. She hadn’t yearned in over thirteen years. She’d learned that bitter lesson—although she would never change her precious daughter for anything in the world.
Effie clicked her tongue impatiently—more at herself than the man standing in front of her. ‘Right, shall we go and get this over with?’
‘A woman after my own heart,’ he said, and his mouth twisted into something which looked more like the baring of teeth than an actual smile.
And then he stepped closer, his hand to the small of her back to guide her, and it was all Effie could do not to shiver at the delicious contact. She could put it down to nerves, and the fact that this was the first time she’d been out in two years—ever since the last hospital gala she’d been compelled to attend and had hated every moment—but she suspected that wasn’t the true root of it.
‘There’s no reason to feel nervous—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Did you know we’d met before when we talked the other day?’
She twisted her head to look at him, surprised that he remembered her. ‘Yes, actually. I brought one of the first casualties I ever attended with the air ambulance to your hospital. You were the neurology consultant. Left-sided temporal parietal hematoma.’
‘Douglas Jacobs.’
‘You remember his name? I’m impressed.’
‘I remember,’ Tak confirmed.
She couldn’t have said what it was about his tone, but in that instant he made her believe that he remembered all his patients. That they weren’t just bodies to him. They were people.
It took her aback. Worse. It made him all the more fascinating.
‘You’re the one who diagnosed the expressive aphasia?’ Tak asked.
It had been in the notes, but she knew he was testing her. Because it mattered to him. It was a heady thought.
‘I did.’ It was all she could to sound casual. As though her body wasn’t beginning to fizz deliriously at Tak’s interest.
‘He wasn’t talking much and his vitals were stable. You did well to spot it. It was very subtle on presentation.’
His compliment didn’t send a tingle rushing along her spine. Not at all.
‘It worsened over time?’ she asked.
‘Very quickly, I’m afraid.’ Tak nodded. ‘CT revealed a depressed skull fracture and an underlying subdural bleed, so we took him straight into an OR. When he awoke the aphasia was still present, but reduced.’
‘So he’s in rehab?’ She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering how sweet the guy had been, and how close he and his worried wife had seemed.
‘He is,’ Tak confirmed. ‘He’s doing well, and he has a good support network, so with any luck he should be fine.’
‘That’s good.’ She smiled, more to herself than at Tak.
It occurred to her that he’d been distracting her. Telling her a story—a work-related story—which he’d known would make her feel less tense, more at ease.
She should be angry that he’d played her, but instead she just felt grateful to him.
Allowing Tak to guide her to a large, chauffeur-driven limousine, she slid inside, trying not to marvel at the bespoke rich plaid wool and leather seats. And then he was climbing in gracefully beside her, closing the door, and the entire back seat seemed to shrink until she was aware of nothing but how very close his body was to hers.
Now it was just the two of them together, in such a confined space, it was impossible for her to keep up the pretence. To keep telling herself that his voice didn’t swirl inside her like a fog which refused to clear, that his eyes didn’t look right into her soul as though they could read every last dark secret in there, that his touch didn’t send electricity coursing through her veins only to conclude in a shower of sparks as breathtaking as the best fireworks display.
The realisation thrilled and terrorised her in equal measure.
‘You shouldn’t be embarrassed about where you live, you know.’
It took a moment for her to focus, and then another for shame and guilt to steal through her. ‘I’m not,’ she said, and lifted her chin a little higher.
‘Then why did you insist on meeting me in the lobby instead of letting me pick you up from your apartment?’
‘I just... It wasn’t about being embarrassed.’ Not entirely true, but close enough.
‘Then what was it about?’
There was no justification at all for her wanting to tell him the truth. Effie had spent her whole life shutting people out—as soon as she’d learned it was either that or be shut out. It shouldn’t be difficult to tell Tak to mind his own business.
Yet there was a quality about him which reminded her of the one woman who had cared for her, helped her so long ago. She couldn’t explain it, nor shake it. It was bizarre. This wasn’t even a proper date, and the fact that she kept finding that detail so difficult to remember was concerning in itself.
‘It wasn’t about where I live, although I know it’s no penthouse. It was more about keeping the two parts of my life separate. My private life and my professional one.’
‘Does it matter that much?’
Was she guarding her personal details because they were none of his business? The way she would keep any other one of her colleagues at bay? Or was there a part of her that wished she could be—just for one night—the kind of carefree single woman that a man like Tak might actually want to date? And not just pretend.
Ridiculous.
Guilt speared her. She wasn’t that kind of woman. She had barely been that kind of girl. Her carefree single days had ended the moment she’d found out that she was going to become a teenage mum. And there had been absolutely no one in the world to support her.
For the last thirteen years it had been just her and Nell. Together. She was ashamed that a part of her should want to pretend otherwise, even for a few hours.
‘Yes, it does matter.’ She nodded. It was now or never. ‘To me. And to my daughter.’
Silence dropped between them like the thick, heavy curtain on a stage, separating the players from the audience. Her from Tak. What on earth had possessed her to say anything? Was it simply because Tak reminded her of a woman who was long gone?
‘You have a daughter?’
His voice was even, just as before. Perhaps the silence had only been in her own head.
‘Nell. Short for Eleanor. She’s thirteen.’
‘Thirteen? You must have been...’
‘Just turned eighteen.’ She didn’t mean to sound so snappy, but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Yeah, you don’t have to do the maths. I’ve lived it. Now you know why I don’t date. Why I won’t date.’
Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t the words which came next. Or the soft, almost melancholy tone.
‘Difficult age, thirteen. I imagine she hasn’t taken kindly to the move?’
She floundered. ‘Um...no. Not really.’
‘She’s acting out?’
It was less of a question, more of a statement. As though he knew. And there was something else, too. Effie couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but if she’d had to hazard a guess she might have thought that he didn’t like the fact that he knew. That he felt it was a connection between them which he didn’t want to feel.
Hadn’t Hetti once told her that Tak had spent much of his childhood taking care of his younger siblings—not just the usual big-brother-as-playground-protector stuff, but all the tasks that a parent would ordinarily do? If that was true then it had to be hard for him to shake that responsibility, even now they were all grown up.
It was certainly hard for herself, trying to let go of the past. Trying not to let it cloud the way she dealt with Nell. Trying not to let her own life experiences turn her into an over-protective mother. But maybe she was just imagining it. Either way, it was all she could do not to nod in agreement and wonder...
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.
‘Because you were agitated when I met you in the lobby. Like you’d had a run-in with someone. I assumed it was the teenage lads I saw hanging around outside.’
‘Those lads are fine. And the place isn’t that bad. It’s a desirable city-centre location. Besides, it’s the closest thing I could find to Nell’s new school on such short notice.’
‘Desirable is a matter of opinion,’ he disputed. ‘So the run-in was with someone else? I’m thinking it was with your daughter. Nell. Want to talk about it?’
‘Nope.’ But she couldn’t fault him for being astute. It was impressive, really.
‘It might help.’
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. Surely she shouldn’t be discussing this with him, an almost stranger? Effie wanted to shut the conversation down, but found that she couldn’t. There was something about Tak, about those broad shoulders, which suddenly made her think how nice it would be to get another perspective and some adult support.
She did, however, find herself tugging on a stray thread from her clutch bag. A habit she’d formed decades ago, when she was anxious and unhappy. Or feeling cornered.
‘I don’t see why I would talk about it,’ she managed stiffly.
‘Because everyone needs to talk sometimes.’
She might have believed him if she hadn’t caught the flash of irritation in his expression. However fleeting it had been.
Being a foster kid had made her sensitive—some might argue over-sensitive—to when people were asking questions out of a sense of obligation rather than any actual desire to hear the answer.
What she didn’t understand was why she wasn’t consequently shutting the conversation down with her usual practised efficiency. Why any part of her was actually considering opening up to Tak Basu, of all people. It was madness.
‘Who says I don’t already have someone to talk to?’ She twisted her mouth before catching herself. ‘If I need to, that is.’
‘Maybe you do.’ He shrugged. ‘But I think you’re too pent-up...too defensive. As though you’re trying to deal with too much all by yourself. A teenage girl comes complete with a wealth of complications. Trust me—I know.’
For a moment his eyes met hers, deep brown and filled with understanding, as if they were stealing her very soul. And it hurt simply to breathe.
Effie didn’t understand what was happening. Not inside this car, and certainly not inside her. She had the oddest sense of...connection. As if something was binding them and she didn’t understand what it was.
Then the vehicle stopped, and she realised they had arrived at the gala. Plastering a bright smile on her lips, she tore her gaze away and injected an upbeat note into her voice. ‘We’re here—shall we go in?’
He didn’t answer straight away, and the moment stretched out tautly between them until he finally inclined his head. ‘As you wish.’
And as the driver opened their doors to let them out Effie told herself that she was relieved.
CHAPTER FOUR
TAK WAS GRATEFUL to be released from that endless icy blue gaze of hers. The one which was flecked with shards of gold. The one which shot right through him to the deepest caverns of his chest, expanding and shattering all that it touched.
At least he told himself that he was grateful. He was pretty sure that what he actually felt was a damn sight closer to disappointed. Yet that made no sense at all.
Moving around the vehicle to walk Effie up the steps and into the imposing, architecturally spectacular old building, he couldn’t help himself placing his hand at the small of her back, and the jolt of awareness at the contact both took him by surprise and, simultaneously, did not.
It was a long, long time since any woman had sneaked under his skin the way this woman had. If ever. It was rather extraordinary. It made a part of him want to whisk her away from here, from these people and the crowds, and take her somewhere quiet where he might actually be able to talk to her. One on one.
A preposterous notion.
The problem was that he’d been entirely floored by her the moment he’d walked into that grotty lobby and seen her standing there, so startlingly beautiful, so elegant, looking so wholly incongruous to her surroundings.
He’d wanted to pick her up and carry her out of there, if only so that her feet didn’t have to tread a single step on that filthy stone floor. If there had been a puddle he might even have thrown down his cloak, or at least his jacket.
Then again, if he’d picked her up, taken her in his arms, he might have been in even more trouble than he was in now. Because if simply looking at that tantalising body was having such an effect on him, then what might touching it actually do?
That orange flight suit hadn’t even hinted at the glorious figure now poured into a dress which looked as though it had been hand-crafted just for Effie. All soft, lush, feminine curves, deliciously naughty, which drew the eye and yet had the brain filling in the gaps for all the other senses.
God, how he wanted to see what that body was like beneath those clothes. Feel it pressed against his. Lick every last inch of it...
Tak came back to his senses with a rude crash. What was he thinking? This wasn’t even a real date—it certainly wasn’t going to end up like that. Wasn’t that the whole point of them coming here together? To avoid such complications?
Whatever was going on here wasn’t in the script. It hadn’t been in the plan. The sooner he got tonight over with and took this bewitching woman back home, the better. In fact he should start by finding Hetti—after all, wasn’t she the one who had asked him to bring Effie here?
So why, instead, did he find himself guiding her inside? Find his hand moving from a light touch on her back to something arguably more possessive in sliding around to her waist to draw her in closer as several male colleagues made no attempt to conceal their envy? And why did a sense of triumph pound through him when Effie seemed to lean in to him that little bit closer, as if seeking his protection?
Unexpectedly, a couple of women caught his arm on the way in, flirting with him without a single glance at the woman who had come in on his arm, and Effie disengaged herself lightly, discreetly, in order to step ahead.
His head was still stuck back in his earlier conversation with her, and he let her go. It hit him several seconds later, when it felt altogether too much like a loss. Suddenly Tak found himself quickening his pace just to catch up with her.
‘What are you doing?’
She blinked, as though she wasn’t quite sure of herself. ‘Giving you space.’
Something moved through him. Something hot and frustrated. Like temper, only not quite. ‘Do I need to remind you that the whole idea of us coming together was to be each other’s buffer?’
‘I know that.’ She tried to sound indignant, but couldn’t disguise the catch in her voice. ‘But you didn’t seem to want a buffer from those women.’
Was she jealous? He was unreasonably glad.
‘I disagree. Giving me space rather defeats the purpose, wouldn’t you say?’
She looked at him, and there was something too bright, too electric for comfort in her gaze.
‘So we’re really doing this?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Pretending to be a couple?’ Her voice faltered. ‘Not just arriving together but...being together?’
It hadn’t been his original intention. Had it?
‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do,’ he said.
She swallowed, but he could read women well enough to know it wasn’t out of any kind of sense of feeling intimidated. She was fighting this attraction just as he was. She wanted him.
The knowledge shot through to Tak’s very core.
Another group of women appeared without warning. ‘Show-time,’ he muttered, too quietly for anyone else to hear. ‘Let’s make it a good one. Can you do that?’
She scowled at him, which did nothing at all to lessen her beauty, then tipped her chin upwards. ‘Of course I can,’ she declared. ‘I can play any game just as well as you can.’
He stamped out the voice in his head telling him he wished it wasn’t quite such a game and led her into the crowd.
It turned out that Effie could indeed play any game as well as he could, Tak was forced to acknowledge several hours later. Perhaps even better.
She had charmed everyone to whom he’d introduced her. More like the bold, confident doctor he’d watched in action than the nervous, self-conscious woman who had been standing in that apartment lobby tonight, shifting her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.
All evening he’d watched her smile and chat and laugh, so skilful that she had befriended the women whilst simultaneously captivating the men. It was a completely different side to her from the professional, even standoffish, air ambulance doctor he had seen a few days ago. Who cared for her patients but who had no time whatsoever for the flirtations of her eager colleagues.
Now she was gracious and sweet, even coquettish, and as far as anyone was concerned very much his. She had leaned into him, her fingertips brushing his arm, her fringe skimming his chin, with that flirty little laugh floating around the two of them had almost bound them, despite the rest of the crowd in the room.
No wonder she had fooled the other guests perfectly, even better than he could have imagined she would. Because at times she had nearly fooled him. He, Tak Basu, had found himself caught up in the moment, caught up in her, scowling at any other man who might get a bit too close, whose hand might linger on Effie’s that fraction too long. As if he was feeling jealous. Possessive. When the entire world knew that wasn’t him.
He should move away. Re-establish a few boundaries. Instead he found himself bending down until his mouth was by her ear, far closer than it had any need to be. ‘There’s still a few minutes on the silent auction,’ he murmured, revelling in the way her skin instantly goosebumped. ‘Shall we take a punt together?’
Obediently she moved with him in one single direction-change. ‘I thought you’d already made your bids? Quite a few of them, if I recall correctly.’
‘I did,’ he returned smoothly. ‘The Grand Master golf experience is for Rafi, the balloon ride for Hetti and the chocolatier master class for Sasha. Plus I always enjoy a race day. But I didn’t bid on anything which might be considered remotely romantic. The Parisian weekend for two, for instance...’
He shouldn’t celebrate the way her eyes dilated, nor the way her nostrils gave a tiny flare. And he certainly shouldn’t exult in the resultant shallow, squally breaths.
‘It’s a fake date,’ she managed.
‘Indeed it is. But no one here knows that. It’s been quite an impressive performance you’ve managed this evening...’ His voice was far softer than he’d intended, and he watched as she struggled to compose herself.
‘I could argue that your performance was even more outstanding.’
‘I make a point of ensuring all my performances are outstanding.’
‘We... I mean, I... That is...you...’ Effie stumbled, a delectable crimson blush staining her cheeks.
This reversion to her more prim side was a welcome step away from her flirtatiousness. Why was it that he couldn’t get enough of the overly demure, innocent side of Effie?
‘I apologise.’ He grinned and let her off the hook. ‘That was uncalled-for. Now, what about that weekend for two?’
She cleared her throat delicately. Once. Twice. ‘Say all of your bids turn out to be the highest?’
‘Then I go home a very successful man.’
He couldn’t have said what had changed in her expression but he noticed it. Just as he noticed the way she began absently pulling at a loose thread on her clutch.
‘That’s got to be an obscene amount of money.’
Tak balked at the edge in her voice. His tone when he answered was harsher than he had intended. ‘When was the last time you and Nell went abroad?’
‘Nell’s going skiing in a few weeks.’
He didn’t miss the dark shadows dulling her blue eyes, for a moment turning them almost grey.
‘And you?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Humour me.’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever been abroad?’ He had no idea what made him ask the question. It wasn’t as though he knew the first thing about this relative stranger.
She chewed on her lip, her discomfort undeniable.
‘I was a junior doctor and a single mother with a young kid.’
His voice softened of its own volition. ‘I’ll take that as a no.’
She glowered at him, but still said nothing. And, as with all the little nuggets he’d been pretending he hadn’t been filing away all evening, he slotted that new piece of information into his mental picture of Dr Effie Robinson.
The real Effie. Not the one she presented to the world.
‘Listen, it’s no big deal. It’s just for charity.’
‘Yes...still—’ She stopped abruptly.
The slight tic in her jaw betrayed how tightly her teeth were clenched. As though the more he dismissed it as nothing, the more it riled her.
‘Just forget it, Tak.’
And he might have forgotten it. Or he might have defused the situation with his usual ease. But instead Tak found himself focussing on the hostility of her tone. More than that, welcoming it.
Because if she was being judgemental then here, finally, was something which knocked her off the virtual pedestal upon which he couldn’t even remember putting her. He could shake off this inexplicable attraction which snaked constantly between them.
Tonight was about making other people wonder about him and Effie and if they were in a relationship. It wasn’t about making himself wonder what it would be like to be in a relationship with the woman. It made no sense.
He barely contained a harrumph of displeasure. Even if a part of him was attracted to her, there was still no way he was going to go there. She had a daughter. Responsibilities. Something told him that she wasn’t the kind of woman to be interested in a one-night stand. By contrast, he’d lost his entire childhood by taking responsibility for his siblings and it had put him off marriage and children for life. So the last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman who came complete with a ready-made family.
Which begged the question as to why he was intrigued by the woman standing so straight-backed in front of him at this instant. He used it to prod Effie and rile her all the more. ‘You resent me doing it because the more obscene the amount of money I spend, the more it draws attention to us.’
‘No, it isn’t... Well, it doesn’t...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘Like I said, forget it.’
‘Isn’t that why you agreed to this charade? Because you knew dating...?’
‘Fake dating,’ she interjected.
Her teeth were gritted so tightly he was sure her jaw had to be in pain. So what made him flash his most wolfish smile?
‘All right.’ He inclined his head as if amused, though they both heard the sharp edge to his words. ‘You knew that by fake dating someone as high-profile as me that word would get around the hospital faster than a superbug.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No buts.’ He cut her off. ‘Part of my high-profile status is down to my wealth. But you already knew that—so why is it suddenly so distasteful to you?’
‘It isn’t.’
She pursed her lips and he didn’t doubt that she was holding back, biting down the words she desperately wanted to say. He couldn’t have said why that got to him the way that it did.
And then another thought struck him. One which he knew instantly wasn’t true, even though he couldn’t have said how he knew that. But he couldn’t stop himself from voicing it all the same.
‘Or perhaps that was what you wanted me to think?’
She stopped. Blinked at him. Leaving Tak with the oddest sensation that he was skating over the thinnest sliver of sparkling blue ice: ice that could crack at any second, letting him plunge into dark, fatal, sub-zero depths.
‘Say that again?’ Even her voice crackled icily.
‘Is that what you want me to think, Effie? That my money repels you? You must know how many women are attracted to the lifestyle I could offer them. Just as you’ve probably heard how little women like that appeal to me. Did you think you could reel me in if you pretended to abhor the material side of things?’
‘What? No!’ She managed to look angry, insulted and hurt all at once. ‘Is that what you truly believe?’
No. ‘It’s possible.’
‘It’s ludicrous.’ She sniffed, somewhat inelegantly. ‘Do I need to remind you that this whole thing was your idea. Not mine.’
‘Hetti’s.’
‘Pardon?’
‘It was Hetti’s idea,’ he repeated coolly, calmly, though he had no idea how he managed to be either. ‘Maybe you just saw a way to get to my money.’
It wasn’t supposed to be going this way. He wasn’t meant to be this affected by Effie. He felt like the kind of floundering, out-of-his-depth adolescent he’d never actually been. It was ludicrous.
Effie, meanwhile, sucked in a breath, her face pinched and white. Yet, to her credit, she held herself straight and tall. The epitome of dignity.
‘Whilst that may be true, I could also point out that you may be making your own money now, but much of what you have comes from having a famous gynaecologist for a father and the infamous Basu wealth.’
Anger bubbled through him, and even that, too, was welcoming in its own way. He’d learned to contain his emotions from such a young age, trying to keep his sisters and brother in check and getting along, that he found it hard to do anything else as he grew up, bottling things up too often.
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