A Baby to Heal Their Hearts

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‘It’s a good balance,’ he said. ‘I notice you’re doing hams and then quads.’

‘You need to balance them out properly or you’ll end up with a back injury,’ she said, ‘and you wouldn’t believe how many patients I have to explain that to.’

Funny how easy it was to talk to him when they were both concentrating on doing the right number of reps and keeping their form correct.

‘What made you specialise in sports medicine?’ he asked.

‘I started off in emergency medicine,’ she said, ‘but then I found myself doing more of the sporting injuries, especially at the weekends or on Monday mornings. I did think about maybe working in orthopaedics, but then again I like the preventative stuff, too—it’s great being able to make a difference. Then I had the chance of a secondment in the new sports medicine department. I liked my colleagues and I liked the work, so I stayed.’

That was the brief version. She had no intention of telling Jared the rest of it—how that secondment had saved her sanity, just over two years ago, and given her something else to concentrate on when she’d desperately needed an escape. OK, so in sports medicine there wasn’t the speed and pressure that could take her mind off things as there was in the emergency department; but she also didn’t have to walk into her department again after first-hand experience of being treated there, knowing that everyone in the department knew exactly what had happened to her and trying to avoid the concern that shaded too far into pity.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Why did you become the doctor of a football team?’

She wondered if he was going to tell her about his past as a footballer, but he merely said, ‘I enjoy working in sports medicine, and this job means I get to travel a bit.’

Surely he must’ve guessed that she’d looked him up and knew what had happened to his knee? Then again, it had been a life-changing accident, and he was on a completely different path now. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about the injury that had wrecked his career—just as she didn’t want to talk about the ectopic pregnancy that had shattered her dreams and then cracked her marriage beyond repair. No doubt he, too, knew what it felt like to be sick and tired of pity. They didn’t have to discuss it.

‘How did you get involved in this research project, or have you always been a football fan?’ he asked.

‘I ought to admit that I’d much rather do sport than watch it, and football isn’t really top of my list,’ she said. ‘My boss was asked if someone on his team would work on the project, and he thought I’d enjoy it because …’ She felt her face heat. ‘Well, I like techie stuff,’ she confessed. ‘A lot.’

‘You mean gadgets?’ He zeroed in on exactly the thing she knew he’d pick up on. ‘And would I be right in guessing that you’ve got one of those expensive wristband things?’

‘Um, yes,’ she admitted. ‘I use it all the time in the gym. I didn’t wear it today simply because I knew you’d be really rude about it.’

He burst out laughing. It was the first time she’d actually heard him laugh and it was gorgeous, rich and deep. Sexy, even. Oh, help.

‘Oh, come off it—are you trying to tell me that you don’t like game consoles and whatever?’ she asked. ‘My brothers are total addicts and so are Joni’s—my best friend,’ she explained.

‘I’m not so much into game consoles,’ he said, ‘but I do like music—and that’s where my techie stuff comes in. I bought one of those systems where the sound follows you through the house.’ Then he looked surprised, as if he hadn’t meant to tell her something so personal.

‘What kind of music?’ she asked.

‘What do you think?’ he parried.

She looked at him as she put the barbell down. ‘I’d say either dinosaur rock or very highbrow classical.’

‘The first,’ he said.

She almost—almost—told him about Joni’s brother’s band and invited him along to their next gig. But that would be too much like asking him out on a date. She and Jared Fraser most definitely weren’t on dating terms.

‘I’m assuming you like the stuff you can sing along to,’ he said.

‘Musicals,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty much word perfect on the soundtracks to Grease, Cats and Evita.’

‘Uh-huh.’

But there was a tiny hint of superciliousness in his expression, so she added, ‘And Dean Martin. Nonno’s favourite. He taught me all the famous songs when I was tiny—“That’s Amore”, “Volare” and “Sway”.’ Just in case Jared had any intention of mocking that, she said, ‘And, actually, it’s great stuff to salsa to. It’s not old-fashioned at all.’

‘Nonno?’ he asked, looking confused.

‘My grandfather in Milan. My mum is Italian,’ she said.

‘That explains it.’

‘Explains what?’ She narrowed her eyes at him.

‘Why I thought you were a bit like a pampered Mediterranean princess when I first met you.’ Then he looked really horrified, as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

‘A pampered princess,’ she said, and glowered at him. ‘You think I’m spoiled?’

He stretched out a foot and prodded the floor next to the mats. ‘Ah. The floor’s obviously not going to open up and swallow me.’

It amused her, though at the same time she was a bit annoyed at what he was implying. ‘Princess,’ she said again in disgust.

‘Hey. You called me Herod,’ he pointed out.

‘That was an autocorrect thing on my phone, and it wasn’t meant for you in any case. You know what they say about eavesdroppers hearing no good of themselves,’ she said loftily.

‘You didn’t actually take it back, though,’ he reminded her.

‘No, I didn’t—I do think you have tyrant tendencies,’ she said, ‘given how you wouldn’t even listen to what Archie or I said about the project.’ She paused. ‘And the fact that you could dismiss me as princessy just now, when you barely even know me. That’s definitely Herod-like behaviour.’

‘I think,’ he said, ‘we just got back onto the wrong foot with each other—and this morning’s meant to be about listening to each other’s point of view and finding a bit of common ground.’

He had a point. Maybe she should cut him some slack. ‘So you’re actually going to listen to what I say? And you’ll admit that you were wrong about Travis?’

‘Possibly wrong,’ he corrected. ‘That injury might still have happened to one of the other players—one who was performing around his normal average on your charts.’

It was much less likely, she thought. But at least he was admitting the possibility that he was wrong. That was a start. ‘What about the yoga?’ she challenged.

‘No. I’m not convinced. At all,’ he said.

‘So you think yoga is easy?’

‘It’s simple stretching.’

Remembering the conversation she’d had with Joni, Bailey smiled. ‘Right. So we can finish this session with a bit of yoga, then.’

He rolled his eyes, but muttered, ‘If you must.’

When they’d finished the weights routine, she said, ‘Yoga will be the cool down and stretch. Have you ever done any before?’

He stared at her. ‘Do I look as if I do yoga?’

‘Actually, there are a couple of men in our class. They recognise the importance of flexibility training as part of a balanced exercise programme,’ she pointed out. ‘But OK. I’ll talk you through the poses.’ First, she talked him through the downward dog. She noticed that he seemed reasonably flexible, and she was impressed that he managed both the warrior pose and the tree without any difficulty. He had a strong core, then.

‘So far, so easy?’ she asked.

‘I can tell which muscle groups each one works,’ he said.

‘Good. Now for the plank,’ she said, and showed him the position. She moved so she could see the clock. ‘And we’ll start in five. Hold it for as long as you can.’ She counted them down, then they both assumed the position.

Jared managed to hold it for a minute before he flopped.

Bailey took it to three—even though that was pushing it, for her—just to make the point.

It looked effortless, though Jared could see Bailey’s arms just beginning to shake and he knew that her muscles were right on the verge of giving in. But, when she stopped the pose, he knew he was going to have to be gracious about it—especially given that her performance had been so much better than his.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘I admit that was hard. And clearly you’ve done that particular one a lot.’

She grinned. ‘I have. That one usually shuts people up when they say yoga’s an easy option. Though, actually, you did well. A lot of people cave after twenty seconds, or even before that.’

He appreciated the compliment, particularly as it sounded genuine and as if she was trying to meet him halfway.

‘So you do a lot of yoga?’ he asked.

‘Every Monday night with my best friend. Any decent training regime needs flexibility work as well as resistance and cardio.’

He agreed with that. ‘So what do you do for cardio?’

She actually blushed.

And he started to have all kinds of seriously impure thoughts about her. He really wished he hadn’t started this discussion. The fact that she’d blushed meant she must be thinking something similar. So the attraction was mutual, then? Heat zinged through him. If she felt the same pull, what did that mean?

Then again, he didn’t want to get involved with anyone. Sasha had hurt him badly—not just with the affair, but the bit she’d really lied to him about—and Jared wasn’t sure he was ready to trust again.

‘Cardio. I like dance-based classes,’ she said. ‘Also there’s a salsa night at a local club. I quite often go to that. I like the music, and the dancing’s fun. I’m a great believer in endorphins.’

For a moment Jared thought she was going to challenge him to go with her—and he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed when she didn’t. He’d hated clubbing with Sasha in any case; a salsa club was probably just as much of a meat market as any other kind of dance club, and that didn’t really appeal to him. Though the idea of dancing with Bailey Randall, up close, hot and sweaty, with her body pressed against his …

Focus, he told himself. Work, not sex.

‘I assume you run?’ she asked.

‘Intervals,’ he said, ‘and rowing—it’s more effective than hamster-wheel cardio. No offence to your warm-up today, because that was fine—it’s just that it would bore me stupid if it lasted for more than ten minutes, even with a decent playlist to keep me going.’