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He was out of scrubs and in a suit, although minus a tie, and beside him Freya felt rather drab.
She looked far from drab, though. In fact, Richard thought as she walked towards him, she was wearing the same dress she had been on the day they had met.
And that was concerning, because usually he couldn’t recall what any woman had worn the previous night, let alone in previous weeks. He’d even joked to a friend that he’d be hell at reporting a missing person because he’d be unable to tell the police what the missing person was wearing.
He didn’t really notice such things, other than thinking, Oh, she looks nice.
With Freya though he’d be able to describe in detail to any police officer that the dress was grey linen, and it was a touch looser than it had been on the day they had met.
Yes, Officer, she had on black pumps and no stockings, just pale slender legs. And her hair was worn down. It didn’t actually sit on her shoulders since it’s too curly for that, it just holds its wild shape there. And she has green eyes, Officer, and soft full lips.
Anything else? the officer would ask.
Well, she’s been a bit lonely since she arrived here, he would say. I didn’t give it too much thought at the time...
But he was giving it some serious thought now.
Not that he showed his concern. Richard, thanks to his job, was incredibly good at that.
‘Right,’ he said as they headed out onto the street. ‘The film is on at ten, so if we skip all the trailers we’ll have time to go and get something decent to eat. I am sick of eating on the run.’
‘That sounds brilliant.’
‘Are you on in the morning?’ he asked.
Freya nodded.
‘And me.’
And then Freya was delivered another thinly veiled warning as Stella dashed past them to a car in which presumably her husband had come to meet her. ‘Enjoy the film, Freya!’
‘I will,’ Freya called back.
‘Has she been telling tales about me?’ Richard asked as they walked out onto the street.
‘No!’
The street was busy enough that it could have been a Saturday during the day back home, and she was glad it was dark enough that he’d hopefully missed her blush as she lied.
‘Of course she has,’ Richard said. ‘And they’re all true.’
‘Then it’s a good job we’re just heading out to see a film,’ Freya said.
‘Indeed.’
But first they would eat...
‘Is Italian okay?’ he checked, and she nodded as he led them to a very lovely casual-looking restaurant, tucked away from the main street.
Freya only realised just how hungry she was as the gorgeous scents inside hit her, and they were guided to a table looking out onto the street.
‘Can I get you some drinks to start?’ the waiter offered.
‘Freya?’ Richard asked.
‘Just water.’
‘And me,’ Richard said. ‘Sparkling?’
‘Lovely,’ Freya agreed.
The menu was delectable, and she decided on a creamy carbonara, while Richard settled for osso bucco.
‘So,’ he said when their order was in, ‘how are you finding it at the Primary?’
‘It’s fine,’ Freya said, and she saw his eyes narrow. ‘Well, it’s a bit overwhelming. I expected it to be busy, of course, but I didn’t realise it would be quite so full-on.’
‘What was it like where you worked before?’
‘I was in a birthing centre attached to a hospital. We saw the mothers for all their antenatal care, then right up to the postnatal check.’
‘How many deliveries at the centre?’ Richard asked.
‘About a hundred a year. So it’s been a big change for me to come somewhere that averages more than that in a week. Still, I wanted the experience.’
‘You could have got that more locally,’ Richard said, tearing open a bread roll. ‘The Women’s Hospital in Edinburgh surely delivers a similar amount?’
‘Yes,’ Freya agreed. ‘I did a stint there during my training. But I wanted something completely different, and it was sort of now or never.’
‘Are your parents back home?’
‘And my brothers.’ Freya nodded.
‘Do you all get on?’ he asked, because despite himself he wanted to know more. Surely there must be more of a reason she had left—not just in her work, but her home, friends and family too?
‘Oh, yes. I’ve got my own place, but I see plenty of them. The older brother, though they’re both younger than me, has got two children. I delivered the younger one.’
‘I can’t imagine having a sister-in-law, let alone being that close to her.’
‘Don’t you have siblings?’ Freya asked.
‘No, there’s just me.’
‘And are you from London?’
‘Kent.’
‘Do you get back there much?’
‘Now and then,’ Richard said, and then he hesitated.
He rarely spoke about his family, but he felt no sense of her probing beyond what he was comfortable with, and actually he found it was nice to sit and chat.
‘I see my father sometimes, and my mother’s here in London. She’s just got engaged.’ He rolled his eyes, just as their meals were delivered. ‘Again.’
Then came the pepper grinder, and the parmesan cheese, and he thought certainly they would speak about the food now, or the film they were about to see—or even, as Richard usually would, get on with flirting. And yet he was still curious to hear more about her.
‘Do you miss your old job?’
‘Yes and no,’ Freya said. ‘I was often delivering the babies of people I’d been to school with, or their wives. And I know a lot of people around town. And while it’s nice knowing your patients...’
He nodded. ‘My father’s a GP. I know only too well the downside. He was never off duty—even going out for a meal like this he’d be interrupted. The only time I remember him getting away from work was if we went on holiday, and even then patients would call him for advice.’
‘I don’t mind that so much,’ Freya admitted.
Her dismissal of the intrusion aspect of things surprised him.
‘It’s more the fact of everyone knowing everyone else’s business,’ she explained. ‘And of course when a pregnancy goes wrong it’s much harder.’
‘It’s just part of the job,’ Richard said.
‘Yes, but it’s more difficult when you know the patient.’
‘Perhaps...’
To Freya, he didn’t sound as if he necessarily agreed. ‘There’s no perhaps about it.’
He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind. It had been a very long day, and they were here to relax after all.
Still, there was something he really would like to know. ‘Was there a break-up involved?’ he asked.
‘Sorry?’
‘Is that the reason you left—is there an ex-Mr Freya back home...’
‘No!’ She laughed. ‘I’ve never been married, but I did break up with someone earlier in the year. It really didn’t have anything to do with my decision to leave, though.’
‘Are you sure?’ Richard frowned through disbelieving eyes.
She was very guarded and, although they were chatting easily, he sensed she was being prudent in her responses.
For once he wanted to dig for the truth from a woman.
‘Well, it might have had some influence on it,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘There’s nothing much worse than going into a pub or a restaurant and knowing there’s a pretty good chance that your ex will be there. It was a bit messy, I guess.’
‘Who ended it?’
‘Me,’ Freya said. ‘We’d been together for ages and I just...’ She didn’t want to talk about Alison’s baby and the pregnancy that had gone wrong. But it had been that which had heralded the end for her and Malcolm. ‘I was going through a bit of a tough time and he didn’t help matters...’ She gave a thin smile. ‘And so, before even the very curl of his hair started to irk me, I ended it. I guess he wasn’t the love of my life.’
‘There’s no such thing,’ Richard declared. ‘Work is the only love of my life and I intend to remain faithful to that.’
‘How do you do it?’ Freya asked. ‘I know how wrung out I feel after an emergency, and yet you deal with them each day.’
‘It’s my oxygen,’ Richard said. ‘There’s nothing I’d rather be doing. Although,’ he admitted, ‘I don’t want to end up like my father. There has to be a balance. I go away a lot on my days off —try to get well away from the hospital.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘I have some choices that need to be made.’
‘Such as...?’
He gave a small shake of his head that told her not to go there. And when she didn’t push for more information Richard could have reached over and kissed her there and then.
He didn’t, of course, but the thought was there as their eyes locked.
Freya felt the heat spread over her cheeks as their eyes held, and yet she did not tear her gaze away.
God, he was good, Freya thought, for he turned her on without so much as a touch.
And despite her insistence that tonight was about nothing more than seeing a film, she was now heeding Stella’s warnings.
It had been lust at first sight, she knew.
And she would not be acting on it.
Freya wasn’t like that. One boyfriend at the end of school and throughout her nursing training. A gap of two years and then Malcolm.
A fling with a sexy anaesthetist was so not something Freya would do. And it would be a fling, for he’d warned her—was warning her right now—that everything she’d heard about him was true.
So she reached for her water and tried to think of something to say as she peeled her mind away from sex.
Because that was all it would be.
Sex.
Ah, but it would be sex with him.
‘So your mother’s engaged?’ Freya asked. ‘Again?’
He knew she was changing the subject.
Although they were speaking about his family, their minds had just been on sex. He wanted to feel her hair...he wanted to delve into those mixed message eyes.
She almost scalded him with a look, and behind the walls she’d put up there lurked desire.
And he liked her odd sullen moments, interspersed by the brightness of her smile.
But, no, this was not what she needed.
He might have a well-deserved reputation, but he wasn’t an utter bastard.
Freya was by her own admission a little lonely, a touch overwhelmed, and he would not be meddling with that pretty head.
