Bride for Glenmore (8 page)

This was fine,
Ethan told himself as they reached the cottages.
This was good.
Talking about work kept everything on a safe level. He could handle this. Quick coffee. Small talk. And he wasn’t going to touch her.

His resolve lasted as long as it took to follow her into her kitchen.

She was still wearing the jeans but she’d added a pair of sexy heels and a pretty cardigan in a shade of blue that matched her eyes.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said cheerfully, reaching for mugs and coffee, ‘and we can take it down to the beach if you like. It’s lovely to sit on the sand in the dark and watch the stars.’

He felt a sudden rush of heat through his body. ‘Here is fine,’ he said hoarsely, running a hand over the back of his neck. He didn’t need the darkness or stars. ‘The kitchen is fine.’
There was nothing romantic about fluorescent light.

‘All right. If that’s what you prefer.’ She shot him a curious look and spooned fresh coffee into a cafetière. ‘Do you realise that you’ve been here for two weeks and I still know hardly anything about you? We’ve been so busy we’ve hardly exchanged more than two words.’

And that was the way he’d wanted it. ‘There’s not much to know about me.’

‘You mean there’s not much you want to tell.’ She poured water into the pot. ‘Where did you work last?’

Hell?
‘Abroad.’

She gave a soft laugh and turned to face him. ‘You don’t give anything away, do you, Ethan? Did anyone ever tell you that one-word answers don’t make a conversation?’

‘I’m not that great at conversation. You should have worked that out by now.’ She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and her legs looked impossibly long. ‘I ought to go…’

She hesitated and then walked towards him, narrowing the distance that he’d carefully placed between them. ‘You haven’t drunk your coffee.’

He wasn’t even sure who touched who first.

He just knew that one moment he was standing there full of good intentions and then next she had her arms wrapped round his neck and his mouth was hard on hers.

His good intentions dissolved, as did his conscience and all the other better parts of his nature that had been holding him back.

His hands traced the soft curves that his eyes had already admired. His mouth devouring hers, he slid his hands over her hips, then over her bottom, anchoring her against him. The taste and the scent of her threatened to overwhelm him and he dragged his mouth away from hers and pressed his lips against her neck.

‘Ethan…’ She murmured his name and pressed closer and that movement alone was enough to snap the last of his self-control.

His mouth found hers again and his hands moved to the hem of her top, sliding underneath, finding the smooth, tanned skin that he’d admired earlier.

Her breasts pressed into his hands and he almost lost control as he felt her nipples peak under the brush of his fingers and heard her soft gasp of pleasure.

He lifted his head and their mouths met again in a fierce kiss, each demanding of the other, each hungry and possessive and increasingly desperate. His entire body was consumed by a ferocious heat and he felt her hands shaking as they struggled with the buttons on his shirt.

It was the touch of her fingers against his bare chest that brought him to his senses.

Another minute more and neither of them would have stopped.

‘Kyla…’ With difficulty he broke his mouth from hers and forced his hands to release her smooth, golden flesh ‘…we have to stop. This isn’t a good idea.’

She gave a whimper of protest and leaned in towards him again, but he stepped backwards, breathing heavily.

‘Kyla, no.’

She blinked, her eyes dazed and disorientated. ‘Why—? What?’ Her mouth was soft and bruised from his kiss and he gritted his teeth and reminded himself that she knew nothing about him.

She didn’t know who he was or why he was there. But when she did… ‘Trust me. This is a mistake.’

She took a step back and when she spoke, her voice was soft. ‘Did it feel like a mistake, Ethan?’

Physically, no. But he had more sense than to take that route given the present set of circumstance. ‘We need to forget this happened.’

‘Why?’ Her blue eyes studied his face, searching for answers to the questions bubbling up inside her. ‘This wasn’t just me, it was you, too.’

‘I know that.’

‘Then—’

‘I can’t explain, but it isn’t you, it’s me,’ he growled, reaching for the door like a drowning man would have grasped anything that happened to float. ‘And now I need to go home.’

‘But—’

‘Goodnight, Kyla. Thanks for dinner.’

He didn’t wait to hear her reply, just strode out of her cottage and kept his eyes on his own front door.

Once there he switched on the kitchen light and pulled out the letter.

If nothing else, at least it would remind him of the reason he was there.

CHAPTER SIX

H
E STRODE
into her consulting room next morning with a piece of paper in his hand.

‘I’ve had the blood results on Shelley.’

Kyla stared at him. That was it?

They’d shared a kiss that had probably shaken the foundations of the island and
that was all he had to say?

Her heart thundering at a dangerous pace, she waited for him to make some reference to the previous evening, but he was remote and businesslike. Cold.
Unapproachable.
It was as if the kiss had never happened.

Clearly he hadn’t suffered the same restless night that she had.

Kyla sighed inwardly, still unable to believe that he’d stopped so abruptly. The question was why? Evanna was obviously right. He had issues. It was just frustrating that he was unwilling to share them. Deciding that this wasn’t the time or the place to try and fight him, she looked at him expectantly. ‘And what do her results say?’

‘It’s definitely ITP. But her platelet levels are reasonable so hopefully it will resolve by itself in a few months. I’ve had a chat with the haematologist and his advice is to do nothing for the time being. We’ll check her blood again regularly and see how she goes.’

‘That’s good news.’ Kyla’s relief was genuine. ‘Mary will be delighted to hear all that.’

‘I’ve called them and asked them to come to surgery this afternoon. Five o’clock. I thought you might like to be there.’

‘I would. Thanks.’ Was he ever going to mention the kiss they’d shared or was it just going to be consigned to the archives without further reference? Was that the usual end to an evening out for him? Did he kiss women like that all the time?

As if reading her thoughts, his eyes moved to hers and her heart started to beat faster. His mouth tightened and he cleared his throat. ‘I need to get on.’

‘Yes. Of course you do.’ Her voice was a croak and he sucked in a breath and turned away from her, yanking open the door and leaving the room with a purposeful stride.

He was always walking away from her.

Kyla stared after him in mounting frustration. She wanted to run after him and ask the questions that were hovering on her lips.

What are you playing at?

Aren’t you going to say anything about the kiss?

Are you going to ignore what’s happening between the two of us?

Or maybe she’d imagined the whole thing and he just didn’t find her attractive. ‘Men,’ she muttered to herself, cleaning the dressing trolley ready for her next patient. ‘How can they accuse us women of being confusing?’

She tried to keep her mind focussed on the job all day and then at five o’clock she joined Ethan in his consulting room.

‘Mary and Shelley are just coming.’ She looked at him, trying not to be intimidated by his cool, formal appearance. ‘You’re wearing a suit again.’

He gave a faint smile. ‘I’m at work.’

‘And does the suit help you keep the distance you need from people?’ She asked the question without thinking and then immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut when he looked at her steadily.

‘This isn’t the right time, Kyla.’ His voice was soft and she felt the colour rush into her cheeks because she knew it wasn’t the right time and she was furious with herself for even showing that she cared.

She wished she had the ability to be as indifferent as he obviously was.

Hurt and confused, she turned as she heard a tap on the door.

Mary Hillier walked in with Shelley, and Ethan immediately waved a hand at the two chairs he’d placed next to the desk. ‘Sit down. I can see you’re worried so let’s get straight to the point.’ He outlined the results of the blood tests, explaining in simple, precise language.

Mary was looking relieved. ‘So tell me more about this ITP thing. What exactly does it mean?’

‘It means that there aren’t enough platelets in the blood. If you cast your mind back to biology, you’ll remember that platelets are responsible for helping the blood to clot.’

‘So if she doesn’t have enough platelets, she could bleed?’

‘That’s right. That’s why she has more bruising than usual.’

‘And what’s caused it?’

‘It’s an autoimmune disease. In other words, your body attacks itself—in this case it attacks the platelets. As to what causes it—most of the experts think that in children it’s caused by a viral infection.’

‘But there’s no treatment? You’re not going to do anything?’

‘Treatment isn’t always necessary, particularly in children. They tend to recover completely in a couple of months without any intervention.’

‘But what if she has problems?’

Ethan reached for a pen and scribbled something on a pad. ‘This is my number.’ He handed the paper to Mary. ‘If you can’t get me in surgery, feel free to call me on that number if you have any worries. We will be checking Shelley’s blood regularly to see if the platelet count is recovering.’

Kyla nodded her approval. He may be dressed in a suit and look unapproachable, but he was making himself accessible to worried patients and they didn’t seem to find him intimidating.

Mary folded the paper and put it carefully in her handbag. ‘And does she need to stop doing sport or anything? She loves her netball and they’re playing loads of matches at school at the moment.’

‘The way her platelet count is at the moment, it’s fine for her to play.’ Ethan scribbled something else on the pad. ‘We’ll monitor it and if it drops to a certain level then we may need to advise you to avoid contact sports, but at the moment it’s fine just to carry on as normal.’

A relieved Mary left the room and Kyla managed a smile.

‘You’re very good at explaining.’

‘Despite the suit?’ There was humour in his eyes but she was too confused by her own feelings to respond.

‘Thanks for spending so much time with them,’ she said quickly, making for the door. She needed to escape. The effect he had on her was profoundly unsettling, but it was clear that he didn’t feel the same way and the sooner she came to terms with that, the better for both of them. ‘I need to get on.’

‘Kyla, wait.’

She didn’t turn but her grip tightened on the doorhandle. ‘Not now, Ethan,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes forward.
Looking ahead.
‘As you said yourself, this isn’t the right time.’

Ethan stared after her, feeling the frustration rise inside him.

Why now?

Why her and why now?

He lifted a hand to the knot of his tie and loosened it with a vicious jerk as he cursed softly.

He’d hurt her feelings. She thought he’d rejected her, and in a way he had, but only because he wasn’t in a position to do anything else.

He turned and stared out of the window, watching the first threatening clouds appear in the sky.

He could tell her the truth, of course. He could tell her who he was and why he was there.

But he wasn’t able to do that yet.

He wasn’t ready.

There were still so many things that he didn’t understand and he needed time to work out the answers to all the questions he had. Then, maybe then, he could do something about Kyla MacNeil.

Soon.

She felt such a fool.

Kyla slipped into the driver’s seat of her car, stealing a glance at the low black sports car parked next to her. It was sleek, sophisticated and exclusive. Like its owner, she thought sadly as she started her own car and pulled out of the medical centre car park.

Ethan Walker would never fit into a place like this and he’d never be interested in a woman like her.

She frowned slightly as she analysed her own thoughts.
Pathetic,
she decided crossly, changing gear with rather more force than was necessary. She was being completely pathetic and selling herself short. It wasn’t that she wasn’t good enough for him, because she was. It was just that some relationships just weren’t meant to happen, and this was obviously one of those. Yes, there was chemistry.
Amazing chemistry.
But their lives were different. They appreciated different things. They were just—different.

He drove a flashy sports car, he wore a suit to work—a suit that she guessed had probably cost more than two months of her salary.

And while there was no doubt that he was an excellent doctor and good with the patients, it was also true that he held himself apart. He was—she searched for the word—aloof? Sometimes when he joined them at Logan’s for supper, she caught him watching them from the edges, almost as if he were studying them. But was that really so surprising?

She thought of the little he’d told her about his childhood. About his parents who had divorced. About how they hadn’t been interested in him.

What must he make of her big, noisy, involved family? Was it surprising that he found them worth studying? He probably found them completely perplexing.

Kyla gave a sigh and decided to call in on Doug and Leslie. They needed the support and it would stop her dwelling on her own problems.

She was going to stop wanting Ethan, she decided as she pressed her foot to the accelerator and sped down the country road that led inland to the McDonalds’ house.

She was going to stop watching from the window when he ran on the beach in the early mornings, she was going to stop finding excuses to go into his surgery to talk to him and she was going to stop dreaming about
that kiss.

Everyone made mistakes, of course they did. But never let it be said that she didn’t learn from hers.

Move on, Kyla.

She pulled up outside the McDonald house and walked to the front door without bothering to lock her car.

‘Anyone home?’ The front door was open and she pushed it open and stuck her head through. ‘Hello?’

Leslie walked out of the kitchen. ‘Come on in, Nurse MacNeil,’ she said briskly, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Your patient is just sitting in the garden but he’s been for a walk this afternoon, just like they said. Just a short one. Up and down the garden. The kettle’s hot if I can tempt you to a cup of tea.’

‘Fantastic,’ Kyla said, following her into the kitchen. ‘Lunch feels like nothing more than a distant memory.’

Leslie gave a cluck of disapproval. ‘You all work too hard in that surgery, but we’re grateful for it. I certainly don’t know where we’d all be without you.’ She hesitated. ‘Doug and I owe you so much—and that new doctor, too. The hospital was very impressed with the treatment Doug had with you. They said that you probably saved his life.’

‘We did our job, Leslie,’ Kyla said gently, ‘and you don’t owe us anything. It’s just good that Ben brought Doug to us so quickly.’

Leslie nodded. ‘Ben’s a good man, no doubt about that. And now he’s short-staffed at the pub, of course.’

‘Ben will cope.’ Kyla looked out of the window and saw Doug staring across the garden. ‘How’s he doing?’

‘Well, he hasn’t had any more pain but he’s tired, of course. The hospital warned him that the drugs might make him tired. Said that Dr Walker could alter the dose if necessary.’

‘Yes.’ Kyla turned to her. ‘I meant mentally. Doug’s used to being very active. How is he coping with having to take it easy?’

‘Well, he doesn’t have much choice but I think he finds it frustrating.’ Leslie stared at her husband for a moment and then gave a bright smile. ‘Now, then. What was I doing? Tea. I’d offer you cake but when I came back from the hospital with Doug I went through the cupboards and threw out everything unhealthy. We’ve only fruit left to snack on.’

‘I don’t need cake, Leslie, thank you, and it’s good to know that you’re thinking about his diet.’

Leslie dropped teabags into a pot. ‘Hard to think about anything else,’ she muttered, and Kyla stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Have you talked to anyone?’

‘Me?’ Leslie’s hand shook and she sloshed boiling water over the side of the teapot. ‘Why would I need to talk to anyone? I’m not the one who is sick.’

‘This happened to you as well as him,’ Kyla said quietly, taking the kettle from her and putting it safely back on the side. She reached for a cloth and mopped at the water. ‘It’s very stressful, seeing someone that you love suddenly taken ill. And you’ve had to stay strong for everyone. It must be incredibly hard.’

‘I’m fine,’ Leslie said briskly, her smile just a little too bright. ‘You go on outside and check on Doug. I’ll join you in a minute.’

‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you first.’

‘I’m not the ill one.’ Leslie folded a teatowel with almost obsessive attention to detail and then her face crumpled and she curled her fingers around the soft cloth and gripped it hard. ‘I keep waiting for him to die,’ she confessed in a whisper. ‘Every time he gets out of that chair I want to stop him from moving just in case it causes a strain on his heart. I want to yell at him, “Don’t move,” and here they are telling him to start gentle exercise. They want him to do this cardiac rehab…something.’

‘Rehabilitation.’

‘That’s right. Rehabilitation.’ She sniffed. ‘But I don’t want him to lift a teacup, let alone exercise!’

‘Oh, Leslie.’ Her voice loaded with sympathy, Kyla stepped forward and gave the other woman a hug. ‘The rehabilitation programme is really important after a heart attack. I know it seems scary to you but it’s really important to gradually increase the amount of activity. They’ve looked at his age and his lifestyle and worked out what’s right for him. I spoke to the cardiac sister this morning and we discussed the programme that the unit want him to follow.’

‘He’s got a video and some leaflets. And he’s going to have to lose some of that weight.’

Kyla nodded. ‘Yes, he is. But it’s not just about diet and exercise, Leslie. It’s about giving emotional support to both of you. About helping you both rebuild your lives.’

‘Is that possible?’

‘Yes.’ Kyla’s voice was soft. ‘We’re here for you, Leslie. You know we are. Logan, Dr Walker, Evanna and I. We’re here. You’re not on your own.’

‘But you can’t guarantee it will be OK, can you? You can’t guarantee he won’t have another one.’

‘No,’ Kyla said honestly, ‘there are never any guarantees for anyone in this life. But we’re going to do our best. Many people go on to lead full and long lives after a heart attack.’