LITMIR.BIZ

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seething inwardly at the memory of Graham’s parting shot that she’d be a lousy wife anyway—she couldn’t even cook! ‘Not all women want children, you know.’

      ‘Don’t they?’ asked Sam, his face completely unreadable.

      ‘No. I’m an honorary auntie—well, godmother to my best friend Ellen’s little boy, Billy—and that suits me fine.’ Actually, that was a bit of a fib. She did want children, just not yet. Not until she’d figured out how to raise a family without throwing away all those years of studying and working silly hours. And then there was the small matter of finding a suitable father…

      That rainy Wednesday morning look was back in his eyes again. Children were obviously a sore point with him, too, Jodie thought. Not that it was any of her business.

      Time to change the subject. ‘Why did you decide on paediatrics?’ she asked.

      ‘I…’ He wasn’t going to tell her the whole truth. ‘I did a stint in Paediatrics after I qualified. I went to Cardiology after that, then Oncology—but I found that I liked working with children best.’ Even though it was like rubbing salt in the wound.

      ‘Cardiology.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I nearly did that, too. Because of Sadie.’

      ‘Sadie?’

      ‘My younger sister.’ Her green eyes were suddenly sombre. ‘She had a hole in the heart. There wasn’t anything they could do at the time. She died when she was two weeks old.’

      ‘Was she much younger than you?’ he asked gently.

      Jodie shook her head. ‘I was nearly three at the time. My brother, Matt, was seven, so he remembers more about it than I do. Anyway, when I decided to become a doctor, he was the one who said I should give myself time to find out what I was really interested in, not rush straight into heart surgery or neonatal so I could save future Sadies. We had a huge row over it, but I have to admit he was right.’ She smiled wryly. ‘He rang me tonight, actually. He’s getting engaged—at last. He and Annie have known each other since junior school but they only realised their feelings for each other a month or so back. Now they’ve decided they’ve wasted too much time already, so the engagement party’s this weekend.’

      ‘And you’re on duty?’ Sam guessed.

      She nodded.

      He tipped his head on one side. ‘Can’t you swap shifts with one of the others?’

      ‘Not when we’re almost skeleton staff.’ She shrugged. ‘Ah, well. Matt and Annie’ll come up for the weekend some time soon and we’ll have a party of our own. Just the three of us.’

      So the boyfriend was definitely off the scene, Sam thought. Though he wasn’t sure if she was upset about it or not. Jodie had seemed touchy when he’d mentioned children—maybe the boyfriend hadn’t wanted them and she had.

      But he couldn’t get involved with her. One, she was a colleague; two, she was probably on the rebound; and, three, maybe she’d sort out her differences with her ex and they’d get back together.

      But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even when they were both talking to other people, and she’d shifted places to drink her coffee at the other end of the table and chat to Fiona Ferguson, he was aware of her. Aware of every move she made—the way her blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders, the way her bright purple silk shirt highlighted the intense green of her eyes. Aware of the curve of her mouth. His body tightened and he suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss her. To tangle his fingers in that silky soft hair, to feel her mouth soften and open under his own, her hands against his bare skin…

      He took a deep breath. Hell. What was it about Jodie Price that got under his skin? He’d always been so scrupulous about keeping work and his private life separate.

      Not that he had a private life. Just himself and the cat who’d adopted him when he’d moved to Norfolk. Not the children he’d once expected to have by this age. Not a little boy climbing everything in sight and wanting to help Daddy make a tree-house and listen to his heart with Daddy’s stethoscope and go to the park together to sail a model yacht on the boating lake. Not a baby girl just starting to walk, tottering on unsteady legs towards her father with a beaming face and chubby outstretched hands when he walked in the door, greeting him with a loud ‘Da-da,’ and a stream of delighted babbling.

      He locked his hands together under the table, squeezing his fingers hard until the physical pain took his mind off his mental torture. Half the conversation tonight had been about children—particular cases on the ward who’d touched everyone’s heart—or handing round the latest family snaps to be admired. It was why he always avoided social events at work, so he didn’t have to smile and smile and pretend the yawning gap in his own life didn’t exist. The yawning gap that even dedicating himself one hundred per cent to his job didn’t fill.

      He caught himself watching Jodie again. The way she laughed, throwing her head back, her whole face lighting up. The way she looked earnestly at whoever she was talking to, making them feel as if they were the only person in the room. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners…

      Oh, get a life, Taylor, he told himself wryly. Nothing’s going to come of it. Ever.

      When everyone had finished their coffee and gradually drifted home in twos and threes, sharing lifts and taxis, Sam and Jodie were left in the doorway of the restaurant.

      ‘How are you getting home?’ he asked.

      ‘Pushbike.’

      He frowned. ‘In this rain?’

      She shrugged. ‘It’s only about three miles between here and my place. Fifteen minutes, tops, if I catch all the traffic lights on green.’

      ‘But you’ll get soaked.’

      ‘It won’t kill me. You can’t catch a cold from getting wet, Doctor,’ she reminded him, wrapping a scarf round her glorious hair.

      ‘Where’s your bike?’

      ‘I…er…Why?’

      ‘Because you’re going to stop being stubborn, put your bike in the back of my car and let me give you a lift home. It’s the least I can do,’ he said, making her close her mouth on the argument she’d been about to produce. ‘You were kind enough to ask me to join you tonight.’

      You plural, not you singular, she reminded herself. ‘I…er…’ Oh, why was she suddenly so inarticulate?

      ‘Where’s your bike?’ he asked again.

      ‘Chained to that lamppost,’ she said, pointing to the elderly and slightly battered racer she’d inherited from Matt fifteen years before, on her thirteenth birthday, and had liked too much to replace with a newer—or more feminine—model.

      ‘Keys?’ he asked, holding out his hand.

      She shook her head, unlocked the bike herself, and wheeled it alongside him to his car. ‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked, eyeing the four-wheel-drive doubtfully. It was big enough to cope with her bike, but it was also pristine. And, judging by the number plate, less than six months old.

      ‘Sure.’ He opened the back and hauled her bike inside. ‘Hop in.’

      Being in an enclosed space with Sam Taylor was a definite mistake, she thought. It was a big car, but she was still very much aware of how close he was to her. If she shifted her hand less than six inches, her fingers would brush against his. Fingers that were gentle with his patients. How would they be with her?

      Stop it, Jodie, she told herself fiercely. And yet she couldn’t help remembering the look in his eyes as she’d fed him pizza. She could imagine them lying in the park on a sunny day, with his head in her lap as she fed him seedless grapes and morsels of Brie—and then bending down to kiss the crumbs away from his lips…

      That’s the last time you ever drink more than one glass of wine in his company, Jodie Price, she warned

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