only for things of monetary value, and his father who’d had eyes only for women he could bed. He himself had been raised to be self-contained, aloof and indifferent, and only Toby had ever been able to get under his skin.
The thought of Rachel came back into his vision. Bouncing. Christine would never bounce. Not in a fit.
Neither would Beth, his ex-wife, have bounced. Neither would his mother.
Rachel was…different.
But Rachel had a husband. He thought back to the silver-haired cardiologist he’d met so briefly. The man might be odious, but he was obviously an extremely wealthy and well-connected doctor, and they were married. So Rachel might be bouncing in his spare bedroom with his small son but she had a husband and an Afghan hound and a life back in the city.
So stop thinking of her like…what?
Like his father thought of women?
No. It wasn’t like that. This was something he had never felt before-in truth, he’d never known he could feel this way. Ever. But he was certainly feeling, and the problem was-he couldn’t stop to save himself.
The hot chocolate was excellent. Exhausted, glowing with exertion from their bouncing, Rachel and Toby enjoyed it equally. Hugo watched them as he’d watch two kids with their play lunch, and Rachel looked up and caught his eye and said, ‘What?’
‘What do you mean-what?’
‘What are you grinning at?’
‘I was just thinking you and Toby look of an age.’
‘Toby is very mature for six.’ She set her mug down on the table and rose to her feet, which all of a sudden didn’t feel too steady. It had been a roller-coaster of a day and she was rolling downward to sleep. ‘And I’m sure it’s Toby’s and my bedtime. Toby had an afternoon nap. I didn’t even have a nap last night.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’d take far too long to explain,’ she said with dignity. She eyed him with indecision. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t happen to have a spare toothbrush, would you? My gear’s still at the showgrounds.’
‘Not only a toothbrush.’ He grinned. ‘While you and Toby were bouncing I made you up a sleeping kit. One pair of pyjamas, slightly large, one brand-new toothbrush and a comb. Everything else you need you’ll find in the guest bathroom.’
She swallowed. Heck. It was a small enough gesture, but it was enough. The man was thoughtful.
The man smiled!
The man was seriously gorgeous.
‘Goodnight, then,’ she said, and there was a distinct tremor in her voice.
His smile died and their eyes met. Something passed between them that was indefinable but it was still… there.
But there was nothing to say. To try and bring it into the open-this thing…
Impossible.
‘Goodnight,’ he said, and she knew he was thinking no such thing. He was thinking exactly what she was thinking.
Impossible!
What was it with her?
Hugo stood and watched while Rachel walked away from him down the corridor to her bedroom. Her door closed behind her but he stood and watched for a very long time.
What was it?
‘Dottie?’
‘My dear, why are you ringing at this time of night?’
‘I’m checking.’ Rachel was tucked into her opulent bed, her cellphone resting on her pillow. ‘I just need… Dottie, I need to know…’
‘You know he’s just the same. He always will be just the same, whether you’re here or not. Now, are you somewhere nice with that nice young man?’
‘I…’ Rachel bit her lip. That nice young man.
Maybe she could apply the adjective to Toby.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Has he taken you somewhere gorgeous?’
She smiled at that. This, at least, was an easy question. ‘It’s all red and gold brocade,’ she whispered. ‘And incredibly luxurious. Dottie, you should see the bed.’
There was a moment’s silence. And then Dottie spoke again, deeply satisfied.
‘Then why are you wasting time on the phone talking about it?’ she demanded. ‘You put your phone down this minute and go and make the most of it.’
Make the most of it? That was a joke.
Rachel put the phone down and pulled up her covers but in the end she did make the most of it. Or she did what she most needed to do.
She slept.
Digger was barking.
Rachel surfaced to sunlight streaming in over her bed. She blinked, trying to figure out just where she was. Memory came flooding back. She stretched out in her too-big pyjamas and thought this wasn’t such a bad place to live if you took away the brocade. And the tassels. And the particularly ghastly cupids staring dotingly down from the mantelpiece.
Her bedroom was facing east. She’d hauled back the dreadful crimson drapes the night before and now she could see right out to the ocean beyond. Why the bedroom had drapes she didn’t know, unless the local cows were nosy. There were cows in the paddock beyond the house, the sea was beyond the cows and beyond the sea was the horizon. A smoky haze was filtering the light but it still looked great.
Her apartment at the hospital looked out at a brick wall.
Maybe she could move to the country when Craig…
Yeah, right. Get a grip.
Craig.
She groped under her bed for her purse, checked the time-it was eight o’clock, far later than she usually slept even after huge nights on call!-found her phone and dialled home. Some things were automatic.
But some things weren’t needed. Or wanted.
‘What are you doing, ringing again?’ Dorothy sounded cross that she’d contacted her. ‘I told you not to and I meant it. Rachel, leave it be. I can’t tell you how delighted we are that you’re having a good time.’
‘But Craig?’
There was silence. Then: ‘You know very well how Craig is, dear. I told you. Lewis popped in before breakfast and he’s stable. As he always is. Rachel, it’s no use ringing.’
‘But you will let me know…’
‘Rachel, love, nothing’s going to change and you know it. You go back to whatever it is you’re doing,’ her mother-in-law said gently. ‘Stop ringing. Move on. Get yourself a life.’
A life. Right. Dorothy thought she was having a nice romantic time.
She looked down at herself, dressed in what she guessed were Hugo’s spare pyjamas. Blue and yellow stripes. Very fetching.
She looked at the bedside chair where Doris’s Crimplene lay waiting.
‘Which?’ she said to herself. ‘Romantic choice, eh? Which would Cinderella wear, and where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?’
Hugo and Toby and the plump, round-faced lady she’d seen taking care of Toby yesterday were all having breakfast. Oh, and Digger. The lady was just setting down a plate of scraps under the table. This was clearly doggy
