One Night to Forever Family Page 8

  ‘Not entirely,’ she said. ‘You know very well I’ve always intended to get my own place, and I like what I’ve seen of this area.’ She hesitated. ‘And, given you’re the only person I know in this city, I thought it would be nice to be near you.’

  ‘Just not in my apartment—in some other man’s!’

  Sam looked at him in disbelief. ‘Andy, you’re being ridiculous! The fact is, as Rod pointed out, summer holidays are a week away and rents on regular accommodation double for two months. He can’t charge double for his rooms, so it works out well for me because it gives me a chance to settle in, get to know my way around, meet other people, make friends, then maybe, when the holidays end, find something permanent.’

  She watched as he bit back the words she was sure he wanted to say, before muttering something about taking a shower and disappearing in the direction of his bedroom.

  But did he really want her to stay?

  Or was it simply a kindness to an old friend, something he was doing for Nick as much as her?

  The question made her stomach hurt, as if, deep down, she’d wanted him to want her to stay for herself...

  She shook her head, aware such thoughts were madness...

  * * *

  He was being ridiculous, and he knew it, but as Andy stalked off to his bedroom, it was all he could do to keep from grinding his teeth.

  And his reason for this sudden, and quite irrational, anger?

  He shook his head, not wanting to think about it, but still it gnawed away inside him, to the extent that he turned back towards the living room, where Sam stood at the window, silhouetted by the moon rising over the waters in front of her.

  And, suddenly, he didn’t want to argue with her—didn’t want discord between them.

  He walked closer, his footsteps on the timber floor causing her to half turn towards him.

  ‘I thought it would be for the best,’ she said, in such a small voice he knew he’d upset her with his tirade. ‘I mean, it can’t be helping your love life any, having me living with you. And maybe if I ever decide to chance such a thing again, it would be awkward for me as well.’

  ‘What love life?’ he snorted. ‘That’s not high on my list of priorities! Anyway, how many intensivists do you know who can manage a relationship successfully?’

  ‘Plenty!’ she snapped, any hurt she may have felt burned off by sudden anger. ‘And this entire conversation is stupid. You took me in when I had nowhere to stay and for that I’m grateful, but it was never meant to be for ever and, providing I don’t see any evidence of rats when I look at Rod’s rooms tomorrow, I’m moving on. I’ve only delayed because I thought it would be polite to discuss it with you first. Not that this conversation has had any resemblance to a discussion.’

  And this time it was Sam who stalked off, leaving him standing by the tall windows, gazing out to sea.

  He’d heard—even understood—her final, angry words, but it was something she’d said earlier that had snagged in his mind.

  Something about ‘should she ever decide to chance such a thing again’...

  ‘Chance’ was a strange word for her to have used.

  It implied risk. Had her marriage to Nick not been the nuptial bliss Nick had always made it out to be?

  Had she found it harder than he had realised to live with Nick’s mild OCD?

  Though had it really been mild?

  He shook his head.

  Questions to which, he was reasonably sure, he’d never find answers, yet for some unfathomable reason he’d have liked to know...

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE ROOM ROD offered Sam had a view out over the ocean and she was immediately entranced.

  The bedroom was small, divided, she realised, in some clever way to make room for the small sitting room, a few cupboards, refrigerator, sink and microwave tucked into a corner, and to Sam’s delight, a small barbecue out on the balcony, along with a couple of easy outdoor chairs and a table.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she told Rod, beaming with delight. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘You’re supposed to ask how much the rent is,’ Rod reminded her, and Sam shook her head.

  ‘I’m sure it’s not over my budget. Not that I have a budget.’

  But they did discuss the rent, and a good deal besides, out on the balcony, with the fresh north-easterly sea breeze cooling the air around them.

  ‘So, you work with Andy,’ Ron said, and Sam nodded.

  ‘He’s an old friend of my dead husband,’ she explained. ‘And he took me in when I arrived to save me going to a hotel while I got my bearings.’

  ‘Nice,’ Rod said. ‘He’s a good man.’

  Something about the conversation was making Sam feel uncomfortable—talking about Andy with a stranger?—so she made the excuse that she’d need to pack her few things, took the keys Rod gave her and, after learning which key did what, she departed.

  Andy, who’d been in a meeting when she’d left the hospital, was back when she walked in, new keys in her hand.

  ‘Does your room have a lock?’ he asked, looking at them dangling from her fingers.

  She frowned at him, disturbed by the inference that she’d need a lock. To keep Rod out?

  Surely not!

  ‘You should change it,’ Andy said, and Sam shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘You think he’ll come creeping into my room in the dead of night and ravish me?’ she snapped, the anger she’d thought she’d learned to control sparking suddenly. ‘I should be so lucky!’

  Really shouldn’t have said that, she muttered in her head as she strode towards her bedroom. It was just that Andy was being so darned unreasonable about this. He should be glad to be getting rid of her, not acting like her moral guardian!

  She shut the bedroom door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths to sweep away the anger he’d aroused, especially as the real reason she was moving out was because of him.

  Well, not him as such, but the way she was beginning to feel about him—and seeing him at home as well as at work—well, it was just too much...

  She had to pack.

  She opened the door, intending to go out, find Andy, apologise for losing her temper then ask politely if she could borrow a suitcase for a few hours to stop her new clothes getting crumpled and wrinkly in her old backpack. But Andy was right there, outside the door, and her immediate reaction was not suspicion about his presence but a flood of attraction.

  ‘I’m sorry!’

  Their voices formed a chorus, but Andy recovered first.

  ‘I don’t know why I was upset,’ he said. ‘I guess I was kind of enjoying you being around. It’s been a while since I’ve had company at home.’

  Sam grinned at him.

  ‘It’s only been five days and you were away for two of them,’ she pointed out, ‘and, anyway, I’ll still be around at work.’

  He nodded but remained where he was—rooted in the passage.

  Her turn to talk, obviously.

  ‘I was wondering if I could borrow a suitcase just for this evening, to take my clothes down to Rod’s.’ She paused, before adding, ‘And to say I’m sorry I lost my temper earlier.’

  She tried a smile, but knew it was probably fairly pathetic. ‘Every time I think I’ve conquered my wretched temper, something happens and I’m blowing up again.’

  Another pause.

  ‘Although you did provoke it, you must admit, talking about changing the locks!’

  He laughed now, a joyous sound that made her toes curl inside her sneakers. She so had to get away from him, if only after work hours.

  ‘So you’re apologising but blaming me at the same time,’ he teased, his eyes twinkling in such a way she had to forcibly clamp her hand to her side to stop herself reaching out and touching his face.

  She had to move! Ha
d to get away from this man who could have her hormones rioting with the twinkle in his eyes.

  ‘I’ll get you a case,’ he was saying as he moved away from her, and she ran her hands through her unruly hair and clutched her head, trying to restore some balance to her mind in the hope it would do the same for her body.

  He’d asked her to stay because she was Nick’s widow and though he’d proved an exciting and satisfying lover when she’d thrown herself into his arms, that was no indication that he was in any way attracted to her.

  In fact, the way he’d been so quick to agree with her about drawing a line under the incident proved that she was no more than an acquaintance—or friend at best...

  And if that thought caused a tiny ache in her chest, then that was her problem, not his.

  * * *

  Andy dug into the back of his small storeroom, dislodging a broom and mop he rarely used because he was blessed with a cleaning man who came once a week, and left his often untidy apartment spotless.

  Was it because they’d had sex that he’d been behaving irrationally about Sam moving out?

  Great sex, admittedly, but that’s all it had been...

  He’d answered a need in her, for which she was grateful, but she’d made it very clear that that was that. Which was just as well as he was having a lot of trouble working out just how he felt about Sam.

  He was definitely attracted to her, now more than ever, it appeared. But attraction usually—well, often—led to love, and in his mind there was a huge blockage that would stop such a process.

  Actually, there were two problems—the discomfort about her being his friend’s widow, and the big one—what if she was still in love with Nick?

  Would the latter explain her desperate need on the anniversary of his death?

  She’d said she’d hated what she’d become as his wife, but she’d also said she’d loved him to distraction.

  And the way she’d said it suggested the love part had been paramount, so probably she still loved him.

  Enough to stop her loving someone else?

  Hell’s teeth, get the suitcase and take it to her. Stop trying to fathom what’s going on in someone else’s head when you can’t work out what’s going on in your own. And given the mess you’ve made of the love business in the past, it certainly shouldn’t be entering the equation.

  You’ve given up on it, remember? Twice burnt by it. Surely that was enough for any man to realise he was better off single—free to enjoy brief encounters with willing women who might come his way.

  He grabbed the suitcase and backed out of the small room, then pushed the case down the corridor, but his mind was right back on Sam, only this time he was telling himself he was done thinking about her—done guessing about her marriage and Nick and whether she still loved him.

  Telling himself the easiest way to find out was to ask.

  Right!

  March up to Sam and say, ‘Are you still in love with Nick?’

  Honestly, man, for a supposedly intelligent human being you haven’t got a clue!

  He knocked on her door.

  ‘I’ll just leave the case here,’ he said, but before he had time to turn away she’d flung open the door.

  ‘Don’t rush off,’ she said, clearing a space on the bed between small piles of clothing. ‘I won’t be long, and I thought I could take you to dinner at the café as a thank you for having me.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said, but he did go into the room, sitting down where she’d made a space for him on the bed, watching her as she efficiently cleared the bed of clothing and packed it into the suitcase.

  Watching her and wondering...

  ‘I was only too happy to give you a bed.’

  She looked up at him from where she knelt, a question in her eyes.

  ‘Because I was your best friend’s widow,’ she said. A statement not a question after all.

  ‘More than that, Sam,’ he said. ‘We’d been friends, you and I, back when we all met.’ Even to him that sounded weak—mawkish—so he quickly added, ‘Besides which you were a new member of the team, and had nowhere booked to stay. I’d have offered the bed to whoever it was.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, as if his explanation had sorted out something in her mind, which was good because it had only made him feel even more confused...

  She turned her attention back to the packing, filling the edges around the neatly folded skirts and shirts with toiletries and, yes, the purple underwear!

  He smiled to himself then realised she’d caught him for the rosy colour was rising in her cheeks.

  ‘It’s best I move,’ she said quietly, then zipped the case shut and pulled it upright onto its rollers. ‘But I’d still like to take you to dinner.’

  He stood up and took the case, rolling it towards the door, turning to say, ‘Ah, but I felt it was my turn to cook. I bought steaks and some stuff for a salad.’

  ‘In a packet, no doubt?’ she teased, and he felt a sense of relief—a sense that everything was all right between them again.

  On the surface, at least.

  Well, he’d just have to live with that.

  Though in his heart he hoped that before too long they’d be able to talk—talk properly—about the past.

  About their feelings?

  And the future?

  He shook his head. He and Sam may have enjoyed one glorious night of sex, but as far as she was concerned that was that. There’d been no suggestion—at any time really—that she might be feeling the same attraction towards him as he did towards her.

  He’d grill the steak.

  * * *

  With her clothing installed in her new home, Sam returned to join Andy on his balcony, and now sat, sipping at a glass of white wine he’d produced, and watching him at the barbecue.

  Out to her right, a low rising moon had silvered the ocean, whose soft murmur, this calm evening, filled her with a sense of peace.

  A rare sense of peace, given she was with Andy.

  But the muddle of emotions she usually felt with him—the attraction, the sense that it was wrong, the awareness that it probably wasn’t reciprocated, especially now he knew she had been instrumental in his best friend’s death—all those worries seemed to have slipped from her shoulders. Tonight she was just going to enjoy the sheer pleasure of being in a beautiful place with a friend.

  ‘I feel good,’ she said, and he turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

  Surprised?

  ‘Well, you have to admit it’s been a frenetic week,’ she said. ‘Getting here was bad enough, I kept worrying I wouldn’t make it in time to start on Monday, then finding out you’re my boss—which is good, don’t get me wrong—then all the stuff with Rosa and the anniversary—my mind and body have been in turmoil.’

  ‘And now?’ he prompted, turning back to prod the meat—or just not wanting to look at her when she answered?

  ‘Now I feel at peace,’ she said. ‘As if I can go forward into a whole new life stretching out in front of me. New hospital to work in, new staff to meet and get to know, and this beautiful town to explore. The beach, the sea, the sand—rock pools out on the headland, I’m sure—a whole new world.’

  She paused, and as he carefully lifted the steaks onto two waiting plates, she added, ‘I ran away, you see, after the accident. Couldn’t face any of it, especially the thought of a life without Nick. But a couple of months ago, when I was offered a better post in London, I thought about it for, oh, all of two seconds, because I suddenly knew it was time to go home.’

  ‘And now you’re here?’ he asked as he set the plates down on the table.

  ‘I know it was the right decision, so really, why wouldn’t I be feeling good?’

  He nodded, as if satisfied with her answer and disappeared inside, reappearing with the salad bowl and
cutlery and sitting down opposite her. ‘Eat!’ he said, smiling.

  Which she did—they both did—so for a while there was no more talk and when it did resume it was work talk mixed with travel talk—his work in Boston, hers in London, comparisons of hospital systems, staffing arrangements. It was all nice, safe, work-related talk that skated fairly easily over the muddle of emotions she’d landed in when she’d met Andy again, and the mess she’d made of things the night Rosa had died.

  They’d have to talk about that, too, sometime, she knew, but now to just sit in the soft moonlight with Andy, relaxed by the sound of the sea, was enough.

  Might have to be enough always.

  She pushed that thought away.

  * * *

  Jake’s father was with him when they did their rounds on Monday morning, and looked as anxious as Andy felt. They didn’t yet have the results of all the blood tests, but those they did have offered no clue as to what might have caused the rash.

  Sam was explaining this to the father when Andy was paged to an emergency in the ED.

  He excused himself and left Sam to get on with the round. She’d contact him if she needed any help. With the shift change on Thursday, they’d be working together less often, which, he decided as he made his way downstairs, would be a good thing. The urge to touch Sam, just lightly on the shoulder, as he’d left Jake’s room had been almost overwhelming.

  That, he reminded himself as he went down to the ED, was why relationships between colleagues could be difficult.

  Even now, when he wasn’t in a relationship with her, she was far too often in his thoughts and far, far too often those thoughts could be distracting.

  And distraction was one thing a PICU physician just could not afford.

  He was relieved when the elevator disgorged him outside the ED, and his focus returned immediately to work.

  He heard, first, that it was a child saved from drowning, then, as he walked into the resus room, he realised the pale, anxious father was an old acquaintance—a fellow medical student he’d last seen in the Sydney hospital where Sam had been admitted after the accident.