A Life Less Lonely (15 page)

Those days in Montreal seemed unreal now. His confidence, his pride and his belief in what he’d strived to achieve - how come it seemed so shallow? He’d missed out on happiness big time by messing up his marriage. Now, having found someone with whom he believed he could forge a relationship, find joy even, it seemed still denied to him. What had propelled Andrea into his arms? He couldn’t believe it had just been about sex. The connection between them wasn’t something that switched on and off. She knew that as well as he did, of that he was certain.

Of course she still needed to mourn her late husband. He respected that. He’d no intention of trying to compete with a ghost. No way would he even try to replace Greg in the lives of Andrea and her son. But he wanted her to move on … move on with him. And he longed to meet her little boy. Josh was a part of his mother and a living reminder of a man Keir felt sure he’d have enjoyed getting to know. He had the weirdest of feelings about this, almost able to imagine the late Major Greg Palmer saluting him in approval. But how the heck could he tell Andrea that? It seemed like soap opera material to him, even though he hadn’t watched one of the things in years.

Keir
leaned back in his chair, feeling an immense weariness wash over him. He was being blocked out. He’d have to say something to Andrea when they next met. He’d have to find some way of being alone with her. Maybe, if he could actually put his arms around her and hold her, it would hit home that the two of them belonged together. That this was something much deeper than a tumble on a king size luxury hotel bed. What they had went far deeper than any casual sex Keir had ever experienced, not that the list could by any means be called extensive.

Andrea had reawakened something in him he’d never thought to feel again and he wasn’t willing to abandon it without a fight. Dr Palmer had better realise that. Maybe she missed those little but vital romantic touches that helped weave a foundation for happiness. He knew that much - just hadn’t had the wits to put it into practice very often. Well, he’d see about that. No longer did he have to fight for recognition and reward. He’d never become complacent but he knew he could afford to take his foot off the pedal occasionally. The trial still required a lot of his attention but he mustn’t let this chance of true happiness pass him by, for both their sakes. The mission began now.

He buzzed for Lyn.

“You’re still awake, then?”

He grinned and addressed the intercom. “You bet. When you get a moment, could you let me have the number of that florist opposite the hospital, please?”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched both arms in the air. He wouldn’t rush Andrea. But he’d show her how much he cared. How much she was in his thoughts. He’d been a tad abrupt with her since she dropped that bombshell on the flight back. Probably he’d come across as morose. He mustn’t be selfish and expect her to react just as he wanted her to. Who could analyse a woman’s emotions? Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to convince her how his feelings for her went far deeper than those associated with being a colleague and friend. How he hoped Andrea would come to realise they had something pretty good going for them.

Suddenly he remembered the meeting he’d had with Rhonda Pierce in the park near the St George Hotel. He felt for his inside jacket pocket and took out her business card, holding it between finger and thumb. He’d no wish to leave his position at Hartnett General. But what if Andrea firmly refused to contemplate giving their relationship a proper chance? What then?

Thoughtfully,
Keir opened the top drawer of his desk and dropped the piece of pasteboard inside. Rhonda would doubtless be in touch if he didn’t email that CV of his to her. It could hold for the time being. This needed his full consideration and just at the moment he teetered on the brink of something life-changing. He hesitated. Maybe he’d keep Rhonda’s details in his inside jacket pocket after all. He’d take it home and file it away. Just in case.

Chapter Nine

Richard Bailey arrived in Andrea’s office doorway next morning, trying to pretend he wasn’t clutching a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of perfect yellow rosebuds. “Ahem,” he said.

“Richard, I’m sorry I missed you earlier.” She glanced up from her computer screen. “Gorgeous flowers! Have I forgotten Louise’s birthday or something?”

“No, indeed.”
He held out the roses. “Fortunately my wife isn’t receiving bouquets from George Clooney because these are for you. You won’t even need to find a vase. See this goldfish bowl thing?”

She looked unconvinced. “You’re saying these are for me?”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I happened to walk by the desk as the receptionist was about to ring you. The local florist delivered them, apparently.”

“Goodness,” she said. “Thanks for bringing them but who on earth would send me flowers?”

“Maybe if you read the card?”

She placed her hands either side of her head. “I think I’m still on Canadian time.”

“Speaking of which, I gather you and Keir are going to reveal to us everything you’ve been getting up to in Montreal.”

Andrea stared at him, a slow blush colouring her cheeks. “Um, oh yes, of course. Sorry.
Keir’s PA got in touch yesterday. We agreed to do it tomorrow morning, before the patients arrive. The debriefing, I mean.” She looked down at her bouquet and tweaked the cellophane.

“Of course,” he said, without batting an eyelid. “How did things go while you were away? On the home front, that is.”

She raised her head again. “Good, thanks. Josh had an amazing time, just a few first night wobbles. As for my mother, I doubt she noticed I was gone.”

“But that’s excellent, isn’t it? Did she recognise you when you walked in?”

“She did,” said Andrea.

“Great stuff.
Now, I must get to my desk and make a few calls.”

Andrea turned the beautiful arrangement around and found the tiny silver envelope stapled to the cellophane. Her heartbeat accelerated in a disgraceful manner. There was no reason she should receive such an extravagant gift. The card read:

Just to say thank you for everything … Keir

She could hardly complain about the message’s wording. It was an entirely appropriate way for one colleague to address another. But the very fact he’d omitted to send love, or even mention their forthcoming meeting, couldn’t hide what lay behind the brief bread and butter sentence. She’d given herself to him just days ago. He’d made his wishes very clear to her on the flight home as regards their future relationship. She’d rejected him. Upset him. This wasn’t merely a bunch of flowers. This signified a plea.

Taking the scissors from her desk drawer, she pierced the wrapping, releasing the fresh rose fragrance. It seemed as significant as a kiss. Why couldn’t she unlock herself as easily? If only she could have met Keir further down the line, maybe a year or two from now. She ached for him but still felt convinced she’d made the right decision. To allow him into her personal life could bring nothing but anguish, confusion for Josh if it all went wrong. Again she told herself her desire for him must be a simple case of rebound.

****

Keir looked up from his notes as someone walked through the clinic reception room door.

“Hello, Moira,” he said. “I thought maybe I was being stood up.”

She dumped her bag on the table and walked over to him. “As if. It’s great to have you back again.”

He wished she wouldn’t invade his space quite so blatantly but it seemed churlish to step away. He was already positioned in front of the window. Doubtless some men would envy him, up close and personal with a woman whose figure was shapely and whose hair shone like new pennies.
Keir had never been the kind of man to add notch upon notch to his bedpost but the invitation in Moira’s eyes was clear and present. It would be so easy to accept. But there was only one woman he wanted. The fact that she didn’t seem to want him was something he intended dealing with. He knew a dalliance with Moira, even with no strings attached, was not the way to further his case with the gorgeous yet troubled Dr Palmer.

Moira lifted one carefully manicured hand and leaned even closer. Close enough for him to catch a drift of sultry perfume. Whatever scent she used, it must be quite something. If he closed his eyes he’d never guess he stood next to a busy ward sister.

Her long fingers plucked at his jacket lapel. “Just a stray thread,” she murmured.

“Good morning,” said a voice.

Keir could have wished the redhead to the other ends of the earth. Andrea stood just inside the doorway, briefcase in hand, smile seemingly painted on her lips. She walked over to one of the smaller tables and pulled out a chair before he could dodge round Moira and reach her.

“Andrea,” said the nurse. “I do believe you’re looking a little peaky. I hope Dr Harrison didn’t work you too hard while you were in Montreal.” Her eyes gleamed. Her voice purred.

“We certainly didn’t get much time away from conference,” said Andrea, looking the nurse in the eye. “There were lots of hands to shake - lots of talking, plenty of questions.”

“Well, I look forward to hearing your,
erm, debriefing,” said Moira moving away from Keir and patting her hair as two other team members arrived.

To the consultant’s relief, Richard Bailey walked into the room and hurried straight over. “Good to see you back safe and sound,
Keir - maybe we could grab a few minutes afterwards.” He looked at the others. “Good morning, everyone, I’m going to sit down so these two can get started.”

Keir
moved towards Andrea’s table and put his notes down beside hers. “OK if I perch here with you?”

“By all means,” she said, slipping a pale grey envelope into his folder as though adding some information he needed. “It’s a note from a patient’s carer,” she said.

Keir was conscious of watching eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “Now, Dr Palmer, why don’t you describe how you saw off the dissenting doctor, otherwise known as Toronto Tom?” There was a ripple of laughter. He nodded at the rest of the team. “That was no mean feat, I can assure you.”

He didn’t find it easy, sitting beside her but apart from her. As she picked up on his lead, she kept her hands clasped on the table before her. From time to time he glanced sideways, admiring her profile. Her hair was drawn away from her face today, knotted loosely at the nape of her neck. She wore a navy-blue linen dress, enhancing her slim figure. Andrea’s body was far less voluptuous than that of Moira Haynes for example. But under his seeking hands as they’d explored her curves and hollows, Andrea had blossomed, welcomed him and delighted him with her response to his lovemaking. She’d forgotten everything, at least given the impression she had. So what could be stopping her from doing the same again? Surely she could trust him not to go blundering into her house and upsetting her son? That was the last thing he’d do.

He turned his attention back to what she was saying. Then came his turn to give the flavour of the conference to his colleagues. Yes, some of the questions had been tough. He thought they’d acquitted themselves well. Dr Palmer had anyway, he’d said self-deprecatingly.

The Prof wanted to know the names of some of the attendees possessing a community medicine background. Andrea provided the answer. Moira asked a couple of questions about the general standard of Canadian care of the elderly. Andrea answered that one too.

At the end, Richard Bailey got to Keir first. Those needing to be ready to greet the first patients went next door to begin work. Keir noticed Andrea hesitating as he listened to what Richard had to say. He caught her eye and she nodded before leaving the room.

As soon as he was able,
Keir hurried into the room where the trial patients were seen. No sign of Andrea. His attention moved to Moira who was dealing with one of the trial participants. She was listening to what the woman had to say, nodding her head, smiling and cracking a joke. She was a terrific nurse and he knew he’d made the right choice by inviting her to join his team.

But now, she glanced up and saw him watching her. Swiftly he looked the other way. Inevitably one of the patients called out to him.
Keir gave the elderly man his full attention.

As he moved away again, intent on returning to his office, Moira called to him. “Leaving already, Dr Harrison?”

“You’re all doing fine without me looking over your shoulders,” he answered pleasantly.

Walking away, he knew she still watched him.
Keir didn’t turn around.

***

His PA had messages. Lots of them. There were a couple of referrals needing his urgent attention but as soon as he could, he slit open the envelope handed to him by Andrea. It was, as he’d suspected, a note written by her. She’d sent a polite expression of gratitude for the beautiful flowers - unexpected but nonetheless welcome, she said. He stared at the neatly written paragraph. She’d ended by sending Best regards, and signing her name below. That was it. No regrets. No apologies. No hope.

Was he supposed to back off totally? After the joy they’d experienced in each other’s arms,
Keir felt saddened by the polite words on the page. But why should he have expected anything different? Andrea had obviously drawn a line under the Montreal trip and clearly she expected him to do the same.

He worked until six that evening. Lyn had left an hour earlier. He wondered what he’d do with himself that evening, wished he could think of something to douse the restlessness within him. No way did he want to hit the whiskey bottle. That wasn’t his style. Maybe he should take himself off for a walk.

He was almost at his car and still lost in his own dreary world when he heard someone call his name. It was a female voice.

He turned around, his heartbeat overreacting to the sound. How stupid of it. Of course it wasn’t Andrea calling him. She’d be at home with her son by now. If only he could be there with them.

The approaching woman arrived in a wave of freshly applied perfume. “Hello again,” said Moira Haynes. “I hate to be a nuisance, Keir, but could I ask a really big favour?”

“What’s the matter, Moira?”

She was practically purring. She’d also perfected the iconic Princess Di upward glance. How long did it take to get that right?

She bit her lip. “It’s my car. That little blue Vauxhall over there.” She pointed. “I can’t get the darned thing started.”

“Forgive me, but are you sure you haven’t run out of petrol?”

“Per
-lease! Believe me, the tank’s half full.”

He shrugged. “Cars really aren’t my forte, I’m afraid. Do you belong to one of the motoring organisations?”

She shook her head. “Never got around to it, but I’ve already rung my garage and said I’ve left the key under the seat for them. I just need a lift home now. You happened to come along and I thought maybe …”

“Not a problem,” he said, pointing his key at his BMW.

“Are you sure I’m not delaying you?” She did the upward glance thing again.

“Positive, except you’ll have to give me directions. I don’t have a clue where you live.”

“Well, at least we can put that right, can’t we?” She placed one small hand on his arm and slid into the passenger seat as he held open the door.

He slung his briefcase on the back seat before settling himself behind the wheel. “Good session today, I hope.” He avoided looking at her.

“Excellent,” she said, fastening her seatbelt. “I’m so thrilled you wanted me on board.”

“Yes, well, I had my reasons for selecting the team I did,” he said, turning the ignition key. “It’s not all about skills. It’s about experience, judgement and intuition. It’s the ability to engage with a person and gain their confidence.”

“I’m flattered,” she said.

He opened his mouth to protest he’d been referring to all the team but she beat him to it. “It must have been a fantastic experience, going to Canada to the conference,” she said. “I really envied Dr Palmer.”

“By the same token, there was an important reason for selecting her to accompany me. With respect, Moira, you don’t have her qualifications” Was he sounding petulant? Hastily, he tried to put matters right. “Of course, if I’d needed to take a senior nurse with me, you, Susie and Jane would all have been in the running.”

She didn’t answer. But as he turned to check the space behind, he caught the triumphant expression on her face. He had a feeling he’d been set up, but he was in no mood for mind games.

“Which lane do I take at the lights?” Keir drove through the exit gates in second gear and entered the one-way system.

“The right-hand one, then it’s straight on until you reach the big roundabout. I’ll direct you from there. It doesn’t usually take more than ten minutes.”

Neither of them spoke a word until Moira pointed out the exit lane he needed. Traffic was light and he drove straight on until she directed him towards a small estate of newish houses, each with a bite-sized front garden.

“That’s Westbury Close. I’m right at the end. You can park in my space of course.”