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Jess rolled her eyes. ‘What is it about men and model trains? Yes, trains if you like, the railway ran past the hospital then as well. Only I can’t find anyone who’s got any trains.’
‘I’ll give someone a ring. One of my father’s associates in America. She has a talent for getting anything you can think of.’
‘We don’t have a budget… ’
He swept her objections away with a wave of his hand. ‘That’s okay. No budget needed. Pat has a talent for that as well.’
Jess eyed him suspiciously, but he didn’t look as if he was going to come up with any further explanations. And she wasn’t in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth. ‘Thanks. That would be great.’ In for a penny… ‘And the model?’
His lips twisted into a smile. ‘Yeah, okay. I’ll sort that out too.’ He put his fork down onto his empty plate with a clatter. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, I think that’s enough to keep you busy. Or… Pat, was it?’
He grinned. Perhaps she had been a little too transparent. ‘Yeah, Pat. I’ve known her since I was five years old. She was going to retire this year but I convinced her to stay on for a little while, to help me sort out my father’s estate.’
‘Oh. Good idea.’ Jess wasn’t even going to admit to herself that she would have been jealous if Pat had turned out to be a leggy blonde. Or, more exactly, a leggy blonde in her twenties. ‘Was it very complicated, then?’
‘Yes.’ The sudden flatness of his tone said that Greg had divulged as much as he was going to on the subject. ‘Did you enjoy your food?’
‘Very much. You have a great apartment, too.’
He looked around, as if he hadn’t noticed. ‘Glad you like it.’
What wasn’t to like? Greg didn’t live ostentatiously, but all his furniture matched and it screamed quality. And that was before you counted the large, top-floor living space, the tall windows and the amazing view.
‘You moved in here recently?’ This kind of apartment was far beyond the reach of a doctor’s salary. He must have inherited the money from his father.
‘No.’ He laughed at her surprise. ‘I had a trust fund. By the time it matured, it was enough for this place.’
Jess almost choked on the last mouthful from her plate. Greg obviously came from a very different background from hers. ‘That sounds… useful.’
He leaned towards her. ‘The last time I saw you look that disapproving was when Ray Harris ended up as a patient in his own ambulance.’
‘That was my professional face.’
‘No, it wasn’t. You looked as sour as a bowl of lemons.’ He was teasing her now.
‘Well, it was a bit much. Ray was just trying to help—the guy didn’t need to take a swing at him. How hard do you have to hit someone to break their cheekbone?’
‘Hard. And you were a model of restraint. I couldn’t have done better myself.’ He chuckled.
‘Of course you couldn’t. I was there, remember? I saw what you did to that drinks machine.’
‘It wasn’t working. I pressed the button and got hot water all over my feet.’
‘You didn’t press it, you punched it.’
They were both laughing now. This was almost unbearable. The highs and lows, the humour, the camaraderie, all of it free of the framework of hospital rules and common sense, which had kept their relationship on a professional footing. There was nothing to protect her now.
‘So what’s so bad about having a trust fund, then?’ He was still grinning.
Jess shrugged. ‘Thought I was off the hook with that one.’
‘You’re not on any hook. I’m just interested.’
‘I’ve just never known anyone with a trust fund. Does it make a difference? To the way you look at things, I mean.’
He threaded his fingers together. Long fingers. She already knew that Greg had a sensitive touch. ‘I had to work just as hard as everyone else at med school. Lived in the same sorts of digs. It matured when I was thirty and by that time I’d already earned what I really wanted out of life. I imagine that was just as my father intended.’
‘He sounds like an astute man.’
Something flickered in his eyes and then died. She was evidently not about to hear any of Greg’s thoughts on his father. He rose and collected the empty plates from the table. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll make some coffee.’
‘I’ll help you with the dishes.’ Jess made to get up.
‘My guests don’t do washing up.’ He grinned at her protest. ‘Neither do I. I’m just going to stack these in the dishwasher.’
Right. Of course he was. Jess shook her head at her own lack of sophistication and obediently descended the three steps that divided the dining area from the living space, sitting down on one of the butter-smooth, leather sofas.
He was back in ten minutes, along with a tray, laden with coffee and after-dinner sweets. ‘This is nice. Really nice. Thank you.’ He was more than just a good cook, he was a good host. Everything was in the right place, at the right time. And Jess was pretty sure that the music playing softly in the background had been chosen with her own favourite tracks in mind.
‘Thank you.’ He seemed about to ask something and then hesitated.
‘I can only say no.’ Jess might not have the sophistication that Greg had, but she could read between the lines.
‘Nah. You won’t do that.’ He settled back in his seat, the soft leather easing with him.
‘I might. You think you can just charm me into anything?’ He probably could, but letting him know that would be a bad move right now.
He thought for a moment. ‘No, I don’t.’ He let the compliment, if that’s what it was, sink in. ‘Unfortunately.’
‘Why unfortunately?’
‘Because some things are a lot easier when you have a friend around.’
All right. He’d got her now. After that, she couldn’t say no. ‘What things?’
‘I’ve inherited a house from my father. I need to go up there next weekend as there are some things I need to sort out. I’d really appreciate some company.’
Jess pressed her burning cheek against the cool, brushed steel wall of the lift. So Greg had secrets. That was okay, everyone had one or two. His family had money. That wasn’t exactly his fault. As a colleague, even as a friend, that wouldn’t have mattered one way or the other.
He wasn’t either of those any more, though. Not quite a lover yet, but Jess was becoming acutely aware that it would only take one touch. One kiss, and this time nothing would be able to stop them.
And if they didn’t stop? If they went ahead? Greg would have the power to tip her well-ordered life on its head. Jess had no doubt whatsoever that he would, that was what Greg was like, he thought outside the box. The scariest thing about it was that this only made him even more irresistible.
She sighed. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t transform her world and then leave. If the hospital grapevine was anything to go by, that’s exactly what he would do. But that didn’t matter any more. However many reasons there were to have nothing more to do with Greg, she was going with him next weekend. That was all there was to it.
CHAPTER THREE (#udcd41815-2e96-55b8-b291-43726b4ce8df)
JESS’S WARDROBE WASN’T large, but it was focussed. Plain skirts and trousers and an assortment of matching blouses for work. A tailored suit for interviews, a few pairs of jeans, ranging from new to falling to pieces, and tops, ranging from very warm to very summery. A dress, bought for a summer wedding, which she’d worn only once. Nothing seemed suitable for a visit to the house that Greg had inherited from his father, which sounded large—no, sprawling—and far grander than anything she was used to.
Going out and buying something might have been an option, but she felt unequal to the task. New clothes would only serve to make her feel more uncomfortable anyway. Taking a little more care with her hair and make-up and choosing favourite pieces from her wardrobe would have to be enough.
‘You look nice. I like your scarf.’ He grinned as he took her coat and weekend bag, opening the passenger door of his car for her.
It was the one thing she’d allowed herself to buy. A pretty lilac scarf that went with her plain grey trousers and sweater and the black leather jacket that she normally kept for best. Greg was wearing jeans and a warm, slightly battered, leather jacket but he had a knack of making scruffy look stylish. Sexy too, but Jess was trying not to think too much about that.
‘Do you want to put your jacket in the back? It’s a long drive.’ Greg had taken his own off and slung it on the back seat before getting into the car.
‘Yes. Thanks.’ She shrugged out of her jacket and he took it, draping it carefully over his.
‘Right, then.’ He twisted the key in the ignition. ‘Let me know if you get cold and I’ll turn the heat up.’
By the time they reached the suburbs she was feeling hot and cold by turn. When they hit the motorway, her stomach began to lurch. What was she doing? She’d been so brave, so thoughtless in agreeing to come away with him. He was so much more than a nice guy and a good doctor. He was sophisticated, drop-dead gorgeous and far more than a girl like her could handle. She was sure to make a fool of herself.
‘You okay?’
‘Hmm? Yes, fine.’ Jess turned her head away from him, staring at the hard shoulder of the motorway.
‘Sure?’
Cold perspiration began to form on the side of her brow. Suddenly she felt trapped, carried inexorably towards goodness only knew what. ‘Um. Actually, I do feel a little sick.’
‘Did you have breakfast this morning?’
She hadn’t had time. She had been too busy fussing over her packing and her appearance and stressing about her trip with Greg. ‘Not really… ’
‘There’s motorway services a mile up ahead. We’ll stop there.’
Just to swell the small fountain of misery that was bubbling up inside her chest, he helped her out of the car when they parked. And because standing made her head swim, she allowed him to. He kept hold of her until she was seated in the corner of the bleak, utilitarian cafeteria and then hurried to fetch toast and two cups of tea.
‘Feeling better?’ An awkward silence had only been rendered slightly more acceptable by having something to eat and drink.
‘Yes. I’m fine, just one of those stupid things.’
He gave the throw-away line rather more consideration that it deserved. ‘I could try acupressure.’
‘Since when have you done acupressure?’ Suddenly there was something to talk about. Something they shared. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been getting into alternative medicine.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been getting into labels. There are lots of interesting techniques out there that bear quantitative investigation. When I was in the States, I met a guy who uses it to very good effect, in tandem with drug regimes.’
‘So you were working as a doctor in America?’
‘Just taking an interest.’ He steered deftly around the question. ‘Here, give me your arm.’
‘What, so you can experiment on me? In a café at motorway services?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t do it on a patient.’ She felt his fingers on her wrist, the thumb pressing firmly between the two bands of muscle that ran down the inside of her arm. ‘What do you think?’
‘Too many variables. I don’t know whether we can come to a definite conclusion.’ She was on steadier ground now. Jess ventured a smile.
He chuckled quietly. ‘Do you think it matters which arm you do it on?’ He’d clearly decided she felt better and had switched to ruminating on variations to his technique.
‘I wouldn’t know. Here, you want to have a go?’ She held out her other arm.
‘Hmm. Probably a bit late now.’ He grasped her arm anyway and tried again. ‘How’s that?’
‘Feels… okay.’ Much, much better than okay. She was starting to tingle all over. Either he’d hit on a discovery that had eluded other medical practitioners for centuries or her body had decided that responding to his touch was a good idea. Great. A little warning might have been in order.
‘Jess, we’ve known each other for long enough… ’
‘Worked together.’ She corrected him quickly. Working together was one kind of knowing. This was another.
‘I’m not your boss any more.’ Something dark, like liquid promise, glowed in his eyes.
‘I suppose that makes things less complicated.’
He grinned. ‘Yep. But I won’t pretend that I haven’t worked alongside you for more hours at a stretch than either of our contracts allows for. I’ve seen you exhausted, cranky, messy… ’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘Fabulous, formidable… ’
‘Better.’ They both smiled at the same moment.
‘We’ve got past the point where we need to apologise for all our little foibles.’
‘You mean you have foibles?’ He did have a way of lifting her worries off her shoulders. Always had.
He shrugged. ‘Well, when I said our foibles I was just trying to make you feel better about yours.’
‘Oh, so you think you don’t have foibles?’ Jess wrinkled her nose at him. ‘What about that famous charm of yours?’
‘Doesn’t seem to work on you.’
‘Works on everyone else.’
‘Can I help that?’
‘Oh, yeah, you can help it. And the love ’em and leave ’em… ’
‘It keeps things simple. Anyway, I’ve changed. The last person I loved and left was… ’ He frowned, as if consulting his memory and not quite believing the answer he got back.
‘Who?’
‘You, actually.’
‘Me! We didn’t… .’
