Guilty Secret Page 6

  Before she could even open her mouth to remind them to put their coats on Nick was reaching out to first one and then the other to enable them to slide their arms into the sleeves. She gave a silent snort when she saw the docile way they complied, knowing that their response to her own reminder would have been a long-suffering ‘Oh, Mum!’ and the assertion that they didn’t need to wear it.

  An argument about who would travel with Nick was completely averted when he cheerfully announced that, with Frankie’s permission, they were both welcome to climb in.

  She was still shaking her head over their fervent pleas when she drew up in the drive beside the house.

  What was it about the man that he seemed to be able to wrap everyone around his finger? And it seemed so effortless, too—a part of who he was, rather than what he did.

  It had certainly worked on her, more potently than she would ever have believed possible, and now she had the prospect of at least an hour in his company, thanks to her daughters.

  Not that it was all bad, she mused when, instead of dumping their belongings on the first available surface, they carefully hung their coats beside his and lined up their wet shoes side by side on the mat.

  She was sure she could be permitted a touch of motherly exasperation to see that he had achieved this compliance without saying a word, where all her lectures hadn’t worked.

  Ah, well. She shrugged as the kettle boiled. New brooms…Familiarity would soon breed contempt and they would be back to their usual untidy ways.

  Suddenly she realised where her train of thought had led her and she brought it to a grinding halt.

  Familiarity? How would her daughters ever become that familiar with the man? He would soon be married to Vicky Lawrence and any future meetings between them would more than likely be at social events that involved the practice or the hospital. He certainly wouldn’t be joining them for family meals without the company of his new wife.

  ‘Anything I can do to help?’ he offered from his position propped against the edge of the sink, and she wondered just how long she’d been standing there with all her thoughts running rampant across her face. She hadn’t even realised that he’d stayed in the kitchen when Laura and Katie had left.

  Before she could formulate an answer there was a coaxing call from the other room.

  ‘Ni-i-ck. Could you help me with my homework? It’s science and Mum’s hopeless!’

  ‘Hopeless at science?’ he said with a raised eyebrow, just for Frankie’s ears. ‘Is that your way of making her do her own work?’

  ‘No. I’m genuinely hopeless,’ she admitted as she reached for two mugs and two glasses for juice then turned to open the fridge.

  ‘But…you’re a doctor,’ he said disbelievingly. ‘You had to pass exams in sciences even to start your training.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ she groaned. ‘And I hated every minute.’

  ‘So why did you do it? Did your parents push you into training?’

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ she retorted, then smiled wryly. ‘They thought I was mad to even think about it.’

  ‘So?’ he prompted, clearly wanting to know more.

  ‘So, it was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do. So, if it meant that I had to pass sciences…’

  ‘You worked at it until you passed sciences,’ he finished for her in a voice grown warm with approval.

  ‘But only after I’d had a long talk with my old family GP,’ she explained, uncomfortable with the answering warmth that had wrapped itself around her. ‘He confirmed my arrogant adolescent belief that the best GPs aren’t necessarily the ones who score the highest academic grades. That they have to have more than their share of empathy and intuition if they’re really going to be able to help their patients.’

  ‘And?’

  He seemed to be enjoying himself, dragging all this ancient history out of her. She couldn’t remember that Martin had ever been in the least bit interested in what had prompted her choice of career or how she had got there.

  ‘And then, as soon as I’d passed my exams, I promptly resolved that I was never going to learn another scientific formula ever again.’

  ‘Not even to help your daughters with their homework?’ he taunted, straightening away from his comfortable slouch as she held out a steaming mug.

  He wrapped both hands around it and flicked a silent glance at her. He’d made no comment about the fact that she’d remembered just how he liked his coffee but the significance was there in the intensity of his blue eyes.

  ‘Not even to help my daughters,’ she said while she tried to ignore those eyes. ‘I would never be sure that I was telling them the right thing and it would only muddle them. Far better that they go back to their teacher to get it right.’

  ‘Ni-i-ck?’ Laura called again in tones of despair.

  ‘Any objections to me going to see what she’s stuck on? I can’t guarantee that I’d be any help.’

  ‘Feel free. Oh, and if you could take these through to them at the same time.’ She put the glasses of juice on a small tray and quickly added some cored quarters of apple.

  The kitchen seemed much larger once he’d left but suddenly it also seemed lonelier, and she couldn’t stop herself from standing a little closer to the door to listen for his voice.

  Remembering Martin’s impatience with the children when he came home from work wasn’t really fair. They had been so much younger then and more demanding.

  Still, she couldn’t help admiring the way Nick persuaded Laura to explain her problem to him so that she was the one who worked the answer out. The fact that he did that in spite of Katie’s frequent interruptions was nothing short of miraculous. She knew exactly how difficult it could be, even for someone who was accustomed to their ways.

  Suddenly, she found herself standing in front of the sink with her hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles showed white through the skin.

  ‘Don’t!’ she whispered harshly, the sound of the word startling her almost as much as the sight of the raw pain in her reflection in the window-pane.

  Don’t be too perfect, she begged, careful to keep the thought silent this time. If you fit into my little family too perfectly, I’ll never be able to deal with you when you’re married. I’ll always be thinking about might-have-beens.

  Memories of their evening together were still lingering long after the snow had gone.

  It had been a meal unlike any other, full of banter and discussion that somehow managed to involve all of them despite the range of ages and interests.

  After the meal, Nick had automatically started to clear the table, which in turn had prompted the girls to lend a hand without a word being spoken.

  Frankie had thought the politically correct fairy story dad been the ideal, if rather hilarious finale, but it had been the last few minutes before Nick had left that had lingered longest and sweetest in her memory.

  ‘I understand now,’ he’d said softly, pausing suddenly in the middle of donning his thick jacket to face her.

  He’d taken the solitary step that had brought him close enough to cup her cheek in one warm hand and had stood gazing down at her for several timeless seconds.

  The gentle contact had left Frankie speechless, but it hadn’t mattered. He’d seemed to need the time to put his thoughts in order.

  ‘I’ve never spent any time with children—at least, not this age or this healthy.’ He grinned suddenly, obviously remembering the hilarity they’d shared over his silly story. ‘I hadn’t realised what miracles they are, Frankie. Real little people complete with their own personalities and opinions, ready to take on the world, and it’s all down to the way you’re raising them.’

  Embarrassment had Frankie shaking her head but he tightened his hold.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ he contradicted. ‘I can see so much of you in them, and I can fully understand why you were so…’ He paused sharply, then continued on a slightly different track. ‘I can see now why the thought of losing custody was like
having your heart torn out of your chest.’

  She had the strange feeling that there was something he wasn’t saying, something more than empathy that had put a shadow in his eyes.

  I’m going to fight him,’ she announced, stepping back so that she broke the contact between the two of them, his words of praise injecting a renewed surge of determination. ‘He might think he’s got all the cards stacked in his favour, but I’ve been caring for them since before they were born, and I’m not going to meekly hand them over now.’

  ‘Meekly?’ he repeated teasingly as he turned towards the door. ‘I don’t think you know the word. I’m looking forward to hearing that you’ve won. In the meantime, if you ever need someone to sit with those two, I’d be very upset if I wasn’t given first refusal. They’re great.’

  ‘So, Nick, when’s the wedding? Have you and Vicky set a date yet?’ Norman Castle was demanding as Frankie pushed the door open.

  As usual, she was juggling with far too many bags, and would have liked to have blamed that for dropping the one containing her lunch with a resounding thud. She could also try to blame the fact that it was Friday, again, and she was due to spend yet another weekend without Laura and Katie.

  Unfortunately, she knew that neither excuse would be true. The real reason why she’d dropped her bag had been the sudden clench of emotion that had started happening each time she heard someone mention Nick’s and Vicky’s wedding.

  The trouble was, it was happening with monotonous regularity these days. Almost every time she came into the staffroom it seemed to be the favourite topic of conversation…hardly surprising given the interest everyone took in each other’s lives around here.

  So why was she letting it get to her? Why was she taking it so personally?

  It wasn’t as if there was anything between herself and Nick—well, apart from the memories that she was determined to wipe from her mind. Unfortunately, she was discovering that it was one thing to spend her days stifling the images as soon as they tried to surface, but another thing entirely to stop them taking over her dreams.

  Over the last two weeks she’d started dreading waking up in the morning. It wasn’t just that she was exhausted with tossing and turning all night, but that she always seemed to wake too soon and resented finding out that there was no warm, willing man making the blood sing in her veins.

  And she felt so guilty all the time.

  It was bad enough that she was having such X-rated dreams, but the fact that she was dreaming about another woman’s fiancé just didn’t sit well with her.

  And there he was, sprawled bonelessly in one of the disreputable, squashy, old armchairs that Norman had insisted on rescuing from the old GP practice, apparently completely unaffected by regrets or illicit desires.

  If she hadn’t been attracted to the man she could almost have disliked him.

  ‘You’ll have to ask Vicky about that,’ he told Norman, giving the same answer she’d heard several times now. ‘Perhaps she’ll tell you so you can let me know,’ he added, much to Frankie’s surprise. It was an even bigger surprise to her that she actually felt a strange sense of relief that the two of them hadn’t yet set a date. As if it was any of her business.

  Norman laughed. ‘Giving you a taste of your own medicine, is she? You kept her waiting all those years before you proposed, now she’s keeping you waiting for the wedding.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what it is,’ he agreed with a smile of his own, but even from the other side of the room Frankie couldn’t help noticing the shadows in his eyes.

  She could hardly claim to know the man, but over the last couple of weeks she had recognised that he was an honourable person and she knew that he must be feeling just as guilty and as unhappy with the situation as she was.

  Suddenly, she understood that ignoring what had happened might not be the best way to deal with it after all. She certainly hadn’t been able to put it out of her mind, and was only now realising that they did need to talk.

  Of course, as soon as she’d made the decision, it seemed as if everything was conspiring against her as she tried to find a moment to speak to Nick without an audience.

  If it wasn’t another member of staff lingering for a chat, it was a patient arriving early, or another needing to speak to him about worrying side-effects to a change in medication.

  The strange thing was, she had the feeling that he was just as frustrated by events as she was, almost as if they’d come to the same decision at the same time.

  By the time she’d spent an hour wandering aimlessly around her house in the wake of Laura’s and Katie’s departure, she was ready to scream. Unless she found some way of ‘accidentally’ bumping into him, she wasn’t going to see him for at least two days. Anyway, even if she did see him around Edenthwaite, he would have Vicky with him, and she could hardly bring up the topic of his unfaithfulness in front of his fiancée.

  ‘I shall pamper myself,’ she announced to the empty room with a flash of inspiration and, after a quick detour by way of the fridge, set off up the stairs.

  ‘I shall have a deep bath full of bubbles and surround myself with candlelight and I shall lie there for hours with some soothing music playing and a glass of wine in my hand.’

  Of course, the last part depended on whether the half-bottle of cheap plonk she’d retrieved from the back of the fridge was still drinkable. She couldn’t remember when she’d opened it so had no idea exactly how long it had been there. It wasn’t as if relaxing glasses of wine were exactly the norm for a working mother of two nearly-teenagers.

  Just for tonight, she was going to avoid thinking about how many lonely evenings there would be if Martin succeeded in his plans. Tonight, she was going to revel in the luxury of a quiet house and unlimited time in the bathroom without having to mediate between the two very different emerging characters of her daughters as they fought for dominance.

  Except, it didn’t work out that way.

  Oh, the bath was deep and hot and the bubbles were fragrant and plentiful and the wine was actually drinkable. Unfortunately, the music she’d chosen was a favourite CD of blues played on alto and tenor saxophone and the haunting melodies only seemed to intensify her feelings of loneliness.

  It only took five minutes for her to feel depressed and at the end of ten she was close to tears as she contemplated the way her life seemed to have fallen apart over the last few weeks.

  It was almost a relief to hear the sound of the doorbell echoing up the stairs.

  She narrowly avoided sending a tidal wave of froth over the edge of the bath as she leapt out and her hasty attempt at drying herself was so makeshift that it was almost impossible to push her arms in the sleeves of the waiting dressing gown.

  That had been another mistake. It wasn’t her usual ratty towelling one, but the sumptuous black silk with the gold embroidery that she’d lent to Nick that fateful afternoon.

  She’d told herself that it was crazy not to put it to good use, but all she had to do was look at the wretched thing and she could see Nick wearing it. Now she was wrapping it around herself as she scurried out of the candlelit bathroom into the relative darkness of the landing, and trying to tie the slippery sash to hold it in position without tripping over the ends.

  She completely forgot what she was supposed to be doing when she caught sight of her visitor through the window at the top of the stairs. Its position gave her a perfect view of the well-lit driveway and the lean, long-legged man walking away from her house.

  Before she thought what she was doing she’d reached out to rap on the window, suddenly desperate to attract his attention before he could climb into his car and leave.

  It worked.

  Her hand was still hovering in mid-air when he turned, and as if he knew exactly where she would be, his eyes seemed to find her without a moment’s hesitation.

  For several seconds they stood there, Frankie at the window with her hair all damp around the back of her neck where the bubbles had wet it,
and Nick in the driveway with his dark hair ruffled by the spiteful wind that seemed to have been blowing from the Arctic all day.

  As if they had come to a decision, they both began to move, Nick returning towards the house while Frankie’s feet had her flying down the stairs without a thought for safety.

  They met by the back door, Nick standing with his hands on his hips when she pulled the door open, the soft buttery light from the alcove by the cooker painting each lean plane of his face with a loving touch.

  She had little time to notice that the bitter chocolate colour of his leather jacket almost perfectly matched his hair, or that his blue shirt was only one shade lighter than his eyes.

  ‘Frankie?’ he murmured as those eyes skimmed over her from head to foot then began the return journey at a far more leisurely pace, apparently oblivious of the bitter cold swirling around them.

  By the time he reached her face his gaze was dark with his awareness of where she had been and what she had been doing when he’d rung the bell, and she was shaking deep inside with her reaction to the heated intensity.

  When he took a pace towards her she was helpless to do anything other than step aside to allow him to enter her home, her sanctuary, knowing instinctively that she was offering far more.

  ‘Frankie,’ he said again, but this time the word was a growl as he scooped her off her feet and into his arms.

  If he hadn’t swung the door shut behind him she wouldn’t have remembered. All she could think about was that he was here and she was in his arms when she’d never thought it would happen again.

  ‘Nick,’ she whimpered as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, her head already angled to receive his kiss.

  For just a second, as his lips met hers, it felt like coming home, but then the heat of overwhelming desire struck them like a detonation. Suddenly, a kiss was never going to be enough and they were both fighting to get closer, desperate to get rid of anything that would prevent them touching, stroking, possessing, becoming one.