Emergency Doctor and Cinderella (10 page)

The dining room was a beautiful room complete with chandeliers over a long, rectangular cedar table which could seat at least twenty people. Grace had set one end of the table up with highly polished silver and what looked to Erin to be Wedgwood china and Waterford crystal. A cluster of fragrant roses was set amongst the pendulous fronds of some maidenhair fern as a centre-piece, giving the table an old-world elegance that made Erin feel she had stepped back in time.

Once Eamon had seated her, he went round to the opposite place-setting, his long legs almost touching hers beneath the table once he took his seat.

Henry was in charge of pouring the wine as Grace fussed over serving a beautifully prepared meal of locally grown beef in red wine, served with fluffy mashed potatoes, and green beans she proudly declared were home-grown.

Erin sipped at her wine as the meal progressed, marvelling at the close, easygoing relationship Eamon enjoyed with both of his parents. For some reason it made her determination not to fall in love with him all
the harder to maintain. She began to think how wonderful it would be to have a man in her life who knew how to love and respect women, a man who also respected and adored his father, the sort of role model that would give children the best possible start in life. She thought of some of the foster homes she had been in. Certainly some of the couples had been stable enough, but she had never seen this sort of love between parents and children.

Every time Eamon looked Erin’s way her heart leapt, and her belly nose-dived when his feet bumped hers under the table. Those amazing eyes of his were a shade darker than his father’s, relaying a secret message that made her pulse soar.

After a mouth-watering dessert of home-made lemon delicious and thick, country cream, Grace suggested they move back to the sitting room for coffee and liqueurs.

Erin was feeling the effects of the wine she had consumed at dinner, so politely declined a liqueur. She rarely drank, not just because of her mother, but because she liked to feel in control of all of her faculties. But, exchanging glances with Eamon, she realised that with or without alcohol she was not exactly in charge of anything, least of all her self-control.

The fire crackled and spat as Henry placed another log on it, the sparks shooting up the chimney like the sparks Erin felt shooting up her spine when Eamon came and sat beside her on the sofa. His arm rested on the cushions near the back of shoulders, not touching, but close enough for her to feel the magnetic force of his body. She could so easily lean her head back and rest against his arm. She could so easily turn her head and encounter his gaze, smile at him, communicate every
thing she was feeling bubbling up inside her. But instead she kept her eyes trained on the flames licking at the logs of wood, thinking of how the desire inside her was exactly like those long tongues of flame.

‘Well,’ Henry said, getting to his feet and reaching for his wife’s hand. ‘I think it’s time we oldies left you young ones to chat while we get our beauty sleep.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Grace said, slipping her arm through her husband’s. ‘Will you let Bridget out for a last walk, Eamon, before you go out to the cottage?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Night, Mum, Dad. Thanks for dinner. It was great.’

‘Yes, thank you so much,’ Erin said. ‘Thank you for making me so welcome.’

‘Not at all,’ Grace said with a smile. ‘It’s lovely to have you. Don’t let Eamon keep you out of bed too long.’

‘I won’t,’ Eamon said with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Erin sat on the far end of the sofa once Eamon’s parents had left.

‘Come back over here,’ he commanded softly.

‘I’m fine where I am.’

‘Frightened you mightn’t be able to say no?’ he asked.

Erin wondered if he knew how close to the mark he was. ‘Maybe I should go to bed. It’s been a long day…a long week, actually.’

He rose from the sofa and, offering her a hand, pulled her upright. ‘Come with me while I let Bridget out for a walk. We can have a look at the night sky.’

Erin followed him out of the house. The sound of crickets and frogs and the distant hoot of a barn owl sounded like music to her ears. Bridget wandered off to what appeared to be her favourite patch of lawn in the middle of the circular driveway, and obediently squatted.

‘It’s so peaceful here,’ Erin said, looking up at the black-velvet blanket of the sky with its pinholes of stars.

‘Mmm, it’s quite a change from the city,’ Eamon agreed. ‘Hey, did you see that?’

Erin leaned closer to follow the line of his pointing finger. ‘What? Where? What did you see?’

‘A meteor—just a small one,’ he said, his shoulder brushing against hers. ‘Wait a few minutes, there’s bound to be another one. You’d better get a wish ready.’

She glanced up at him sceptically. ‘You believe it works?’

He grinned at her. ‘Why not? It’s worth a try, surely?’

She looked back at the sky, her shoulders lowering on a sigh. ‘I used to think some dreams and wishes would come true if I wished and dreamed hard enough, but they never did.’

‘What did you wish for?’ he asked after a short pause.

Erin crossed her arms over her chest, not so much because of the chill of the autumn air, but more to control the pain she felt deep inside her chest. ‘I don’t know. Just things.’

Bridget came back over to where they were standing, her plumy tail wagging softly. Eamon bent down and ruffled her ears. ‘Maybe it’s all about timing,’ he said, straightening. ‘When the planets are aligned, maybe your dreams will come true.’

Erin looked at him again. ‘So you’re a romantic, Dr Chapman, are you?’

His gaze went to her mouth. ‘You’d better believe it, Dr Taylor,’ he said, and covered her mouth with his.

E
RIN
had never been kissed in the moonlight before. It had a lot to recommend it, she thought as her senses went into overload. The magic of his mouth as it slowly but surely explored hers made her head feel light, and her body lost its guarded stiffness as he drew her against his hardened form. She felt the ridge of his arousal, the heat of his body shielding her from the cool night air. One of his hands cupped the nape of her neck, the other rested gently but purposefully against the base of her spine. Shivers of delight cascaded down her back, weakening her resolve even further.

After a few breathless minutes Eamon lifted his mouth off hers. ‘We should go in. You’re starting to shiver.’

Erin was shivering in anticipation and need, not the cold, but she felt too shy to tell him. She envied her peers, the ones who could casually do the next steps in this dating dance. They wouldn’t baulk at following him to his room, slipping off their clothes and joining him in his bed. They wouldn’t think twice about taking and giving pleasure. Why did she have to be so damned inhibited when all she wanted was to experience the thrill of his touch?

He lifted her chin, angling her head so the light falling from the front windows spotlighted her features. ‘We don’t have to take this any further right now,’ he said. ‘I’m OK with that. I want you, but I can wait.’

She pressed her still-tingling lips together. ‘This is new territory for me.’

He brushed the pad of his thumb over her chin. ‘I know it is,’ he said softly. ‘Take your time, sweetheart.’

Erin felt her heart swell in her chest. Most men would have been pressuring her by now, insisting on her following through on the promises communicated in the way she had returned his kisses, but because he didn’t it made her want him all the more. She suddenly wasn’t fighting off his desire, but the tumultuous drive of her own. It was a much harder thing to control. It was foreign to her, an unknown entity that threatened everything she had put in place to protect herself from hurt. She felt the pulse of it in her fingertips; it was like a back beat in her body, quietly keeping time until he claimed her as his.

He took her by the hand and led her back into the house. ‘If you need anything during the night, just give me a shout,’ he said. ‘Come on, Bridget,’ he called to the dog, who was sniffing around the base of a standard rose. ‘Time for bed.’

Eamon saw Erin to her room in his cottage and after planting a soft-as-a-brush kiss to her mouth left to lock up the main house. She traced her lips with the point of her tongue once he had gone, tasting him, tasting the temptation she had so very nearly caved in to. She released a little sigh and, gathering up her toiletries bag, made her way to the bathroom the other side of Eamon’s bedroom.

When she came out the cottage was quiet apart from
the ticking of an old carriage clock on the hall table. She went into her bedroom, where Molly was curled up on the end of the bed. Molly opened one blue eye before closing it again. The soft sound of her purring made Erin smile; at least her cat felt right at home.

The bed was soft and comfortable but it took ages for Erin to relax enough to sleep. Her body rhythms were out of sorts after her stint of night duty. She felt on edge, wired for action instead of drowsy and relaxed. She tossed and turned for a while then, reaching for the bedside lamp, rummaged in her overnight bag and retrieved a book she had brought to read. She propped herself up on pillows and began reading, but she wasn’t really following the storyline.

After about an hour she tossed it aside and, throwing back the covers, she slipped on a wrap and tiptoed out to use the bathroom.

On her way back down the hall a tall, shadowy figure appeared in front of her. She put a hand up to her throat, momentarily taken by surprise, but as the moonlight poured in from the windows she could see it was Eamon.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘I hope I didn’t wake you. I’ve been reading for the last hour. Night duty always does this to me. It takes me another week to get back into rhythm.’

‘Would you like some hot milk or something?’ he asked. ‘I was on my way into the house to get one in any case.’

‘Couldn’t you sleep either?’

He gave her a rueful look. ‘How did you expect me to sleep after stirring me up in the moonlight the way you did?’

Erin felt her cheeks warming with colour. ‘I’m sorry,
I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. I’m not the sort to lead someone on and then leave them…you know…?’

He flicked her cheek with the lightest touch of his finger. ‘You worry too much. Come on, let’s raid the kitchen.’

Erin followed him back into the main house, suddenly feeling like a child at boarding school colluding with an inmate to have a midnight feast, although it was closer to two in the morning. The kitchen was just as cosy as the other rooms of Cloverfields. It had a large wood-fired cooker that was still burning on low. She went and stood in front of it, warming her hands as Eamon found two mugs and a pan to heat the milk.

Bridget looked up from her basket near the range but, after giving a long-drawn-out doggy sigh, put her head back down on her paws, her eyes drifting shut once more.

‘She’s getting old,’ Eamon said, nodding towards the dog. ‘She’s nearly fourteen. It’ll be a sad day when she passes on.’

‘I can’t imagine losing Molly,’ she said. ‘I know she’s only a cat, but she’s the first pet I’ve ever had. I didn’t realise how much I would come to love her. Maybe I wouldn’t have bought her if I’d known how I would feel.’

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You can’t protect yourself from deep feelings. They sort of sneak up on you when you’re least expecting it.’

She looked down at her hands splayed in front of the cooker. ‘I don’t want to get hurt. I hate feeling vulnerable. I like to know what’s going to happen and when. I need to know so I can prepare for it.’

‘Life isn’t like that, Erin,’ he said. ‘You can’t always prepare for stuff. Life has a habit of throwing things out
of left field. Look at Joshua Reynolds, for example. One minute his life was going along perfectly, the next it’s hanging by a thread in Intensive Care.’

Erin turned from the range to look at him. ‘I went to see him and his girlfriend.’

His eyes softened. ‘I know. Alice told me.’

She looked away. ‘It doesn’t mean I agree with your plans. It’s just Alice made me a gift and I felt obliged to look in on Josh’s progress.’

‘You really helped her, Erin,’ he said. ‘Not only did you save Josh’s life, you really made Alice feel supported. That’s what I want both patients and relatives to feel. You’re more than halfway there.’

Erin sipped at her drink, conscious of him on the other side of the table watching her with that all-seeing green gaze. She had told him far more than she had told anyone about her insecurities. She couldn’t imagine why she had done so. Was she falling in love with him? He had certainly turned her small, tightly contained world upside down. Here she was spending a weekend away with him in the country. Who would have thought she would have agreed to such a thing even a week ago?

She met his gaze and felt a ripple of something indefinable go through her. Her heart squeezed, her breathing intervals shortened and her throat felt dry as she saw his gaze slowly dip to her mouth.

She put her mug back down on the table and rose to her feet. ‘I should try and get some sleep.’

‘I’ll tidy up here while you go back out to the cottage,’ he said, gathering up the mugs. ‘I don’t want to tempt myself beyond endurance. Just knowing you’re a room away is enough to have to handle.’

Erin bit her lip. ‘Eamon…’

He came up to her and placed a fingertip over her lips, his eyes meshing with hers. ‘Don’t make this harder than it already is,’ he said huskily.

She moved closer, her hips brushing against his, her arms going around his waist, holding him to her. ‘I think I’ve changed my mind,’ she said in a soft whisper. ‘I want you to make love to me.’ As soon as she said the words out loud, she realised how much they were true. She ached to have him hold her, to show her the passion she could feel simmering between them.

His pupils flared and his hands tightened on her hips. ‘Erin, you’re tired. You might regret it in the morning.’

She pushed herself closer. ‘So what if I do? What harm is done? We’re both adults. We can be sensible about this. It’s just sex, right?’

He twisted his mouth. ‘But what if it’s not? What if it’s something else entirely?’

She frowned. ‘You mean something more serious?’

He nodded. ‘I want the whole works, Erin. Not just a quick, furtive scramble under the sheets. I’ve done plenty of that in the past. I’m sick of it. I want to build a future, a family just like the one my parents built.’

Erin felt her shoulders stiffen as she pulled away. ‘I can’t promise you any of that. I told you—I don’t want that sort of commitment. It’s just not me.’

‘What
is
you, Erin?’ he asked. ‘The uptight A&E doctor who ticks off everyone she meets? Or is she a lonely little girl who is frightened about getting hurt by what life might throw her way?’

Erin threw him a withering look. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Eamon Chapman. You think you do, but you don’t.’

‘I know enough to know you are hiding from life,’
he said. ‘You’ve locked yourself up in an ivory tower where no one can reach you. Do you dislike yourself so much that you don’t think you deserve a bit of happiness and stability in your life?’

His words were so close to those her mother had spoken a couple of days ago, they made her feel all the more defensive. ‘I don’t have to listen to this,’ she said, swinging away.

‘You can’t run away for ever, Erin,’ he called out after her. ‘Eventually someone is going to get through your armour and make you see what you’re throwing away.’

She threw another caustic look over her shoulder before she stalked out.

Eamon let out a rough sigh as her heard her footsteps on the path outside. ‘Well,’ he said, addressing the sleeping dog on the floor. ‘I handled that brilliantly, didn’t I?’

When Erin came through to the house the next morning breakfast was in full swing. The delicious smell of bacon drew her like a magnet, so too did the aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee.

Eamon was sitting at the table next to his father, both of them with newspapers propped up in front of them. He looked up as Erin entered the room, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘How did you sleep?’ he asked.

‘Fine…eventually,’ she answered.

Grace came over with a plate of toast. ‘You poor love,’ she said as she set a rack of toast on the table. ‘You doctors work too hard. It’s no wonder you’re tired all the time.’

‘What time does the conference kick off?’ Henry asked his son.

‘It starts at nine and finishes at four,’ Eamon said. ‘I thought on the way back I might take Erin out to The
Gib.’ He turned and addressed Erin. ‘That’s Mount Gibraltar. Once we get to the top there are great views over Bowral and Mittagong and the rest of the Southern Highlands.’

‘It sounds like fun,’ Erin said. ‘I enjoy walking.’

‘It’s a lovely time of year to see Bowral,’ Grace said, stirring her tea. ‘In the late 1880s a tree-planting programme was started. There are avenues of beautiful deciduous trees and private gardens. In September there’s a tulip festival in Corbett Gardens. You’ll have to make sure you come down for that. Kate and Simon got married there two years ago. It was the most beautiful wedding, so romantic. I’ll dig out the photos to show you later.’

Erin gave Grace a small smile. ‘That would be lovely.’

Once breakfast was over Eamon led the way out to his car. The drive to the hotel where the one-day conference was being held was conducted in snatches of banal conversation. Erin got the feeling he was avoiding any mention of the night before. She was rather relieved, and quietly took in the passing scenery, content to enjoy the autumn colour and the crisp, bright morning once they ran out of things to say.

Eamon’s colleagues greeted him warmly once they arrived at the conference venue, and once name tags were on and introductions carried out the day’s program began. Erin watched from the back of the small conference-room as Eamon presented a PowerPoint presentation of some of the innovations that had been trialled in other hospitals he had visited whilst he was in the UK. She kept a low profile throughout the day, quietly taking in the information, listening with interest to the question and answer session at the end of the morning’s session.

Lunch was a casual eat-while-you-mingle-and-chat affair. Erin was balancing a glass of orange juice and a sandwich when one of the female delegates came over and introduced herself.

‘Hi, I’m Tracey Bolton,’ she said. ‘I trained with Eamon at Sydney University. I live in the district as a rural A& E specialist.’

‘Hi, I’m Erin,’ Erin said, juggling her food and drink to offer her hand.

‘I think it’s great you’ve come along to the meeting with Eamon,’ Tracey said. ‘I hear you’re staying with him at his parents’ place.’

‘I’m just…we’re not… I mean…’

Eamon came over at that point and stole a triangle of sandwich off Erin’s plate, sending Tracey a quick, boyish grin. ‘Hi, Trace, enjoying the meeting?’

‘Of course,’ she said, smiling back. ‘It’s great to see you so happy, Eamon.’ She turned her smile on Erin. ‘He’s a great guy. I would have snatched him up myself, except his best mate got in first.’

‘I’ve forgiven him for that,’ Eamon said, still grinning. ‘How is Rob?’

‘He’s great,’ Tracey said. ‘He’s at home with the twins.’ She smiled at Erin again. ‘We have twin boys, eight months old.’

‘Come on.’ Eamon beckoned with his hand. ‘Show us the photos. I know you’re dying to.’

Tracey gave him a sheepish look, and, handing Eamon her plate—which he proceeded to steal food from—rummaged in her purse. She handed Erin a photo of beautiful blond, blue-eyed twin boys, chubby cheeked, glowing with good health, their little limbs bare and brown from the previous summer’s sun. Erin
felt an acute sense of loss hit her as she handed the photo back. ‘They’re gorgeous,’ she said. ‘What are their names?’