His Emergency Fiancée (14 page)

I love you, she thought as she stroked his hair. Right now, you’re like a little boy wanting comfort from a nightmare—and I’m the only one who can give you what you need. And maybe that’s the truth. Maybe love’s what you need to heal you. And I’m the one to give it to you.

* * *

During the next couple of weeks, Kirsty began to believe that she’d found what she’d been looking for all her life. True happiness. At work, life was fine. Chambers was as snappy as ever, questioning her judgement and treating her as if she was far less qualified than she was, but his barbs didn’t hurt her the way they had. Every day, it felt as if the sun was shining—even on the days when it absolutely poured down and everyone arrived at work moaning that they were soaked. Kirsty smiled through it all, because she had Ben.

She hadn’t slept in her own room since the night of their second engagement party. She still used her own room for studying, on the nights when Ben was working a late when she was on early or the nights he was out playing in the hospital squash league, but he always came in to collect her. And he carried out the promise he’d made earlier, marking her page with a piece of paper then picking her up and carrying her to his room, before making passionate love with her.

Best of all, Ben seemed to have changed, too. He wasn’t doing his usual thing of backing off before things became too serious. On the days when she was on late and he was on early, he brought her coffee in bed and left her little sticky notes on the toaster to make her laugh, and he left her something that only needed heating through if he was out. On the days when she was on early and he was on late, she did the same for him—and if she wasn’t in Theatre he enticed her home for lunch and they ended up running to the hospital, breathless and laughing and still slightly rumpled from bed. And at night he held her so close, as if she were the most precious thing in his world and he was afraid to let her go.

Maybe, Kirsty thought, it was different this time. He’d known her for so long he knew virtually everything about her. There were no surprises in store. So maybe at last he’d let himself love. Maybe he’d let himself love her. And maybe this time it would be happy-ever-after for both of them. The smile was still on her face even as she opened her books and began to concentrate on her studies.

* * *

Ben looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock. Kirsty had been on early, surgery had overrun so she had been late finishing her shift—he knew that because he’d played squash against Paul Fisher tonight—and now she was
still
working. Her bedroom door was closed, but Ben knew exactly what she was doing. Lying facedown on the bed with a huge textbook in front of her, one leg kicked up behind her, playing with the ends of her hair as she absorbed what she was reading and occasionally made notes in the margin with a pencil.

She was pushing herself too hard again—no doubt trying to prove something to Chambers. But if she kept up this pace, she’d either collapse or make a disastrous mistake and her career would lie in tatters. In the past, he’d always stopped her getting to this point by the simple method of sliding a used envelope onto the page to mark it, closing the book and walking off with it.

Now…Things were different. That night in the bathroom he’d told her his plan for stopping her overdoing it, but now he wasn’t so sure. Would she push him away if he tried to come between her and her work—even if it
was
for her own good? He rapped on her door and opened it a crack. ‘Kirst?’

‘Mmm?’

She was lying on the bed, just as he’d expected. Desire rippled through him. Why had he never noticed what perfect feet she had? And she’d painted her toenails lavender blue. A soft, pretty, feminine colour.

‘Did you want something, Ben?’

Now he’d just made a complete idiot of himself, standing there gawping at her. ‘Yes. Time to close that book, Kirst. You’re on early tomorrow and you’ve been working since the crack of dawn.’

‘I’m fine. I need to study, Ben.’

‘You’ll walk your exams, and you know it.’ He folded his arms. Time to get tough with her. ‘Kirst, you can’t keep up this pace. Take a break.’

‘I’m fine,’ she repeated.

‘You’re playing into Chambers’s hands. Study all night, make a mistake at work because you’re too tired to do it properly, and it’ll give him just the excuse he needs to stick you on disciplinary or even get rid of you,’ he pointed out.

‘I’m fine,’ she said stubbornly.

‘Right.’ He filched a page from her notebook, used it to mark her place in the thick textbook and closed the book firmly.

‘Ben!’

‘Stop arguing.’ He picked her up. ‘You can work tomorrow when you’ve had a rest. I’ll even test you, if you like. Right now, you’ve done enough.’ Before she could argue any further, he kissed her. And kissed her. And carried her to his bed.

She was warm and soft and giving, and being with her was the best feeling on earth. Watching her face as she climaxed, the way her brown eyes turned pure gold…It gave him a kick like nothing else.

He smiled and leaned over to rub the tip of his nose against hers. ‘My beautiful, wanton Kirsty.’

‘Wanton?’ She smiled back at him. ‘You’re the one who made me that way.’

‘Are you accusing me of corrupting you, Dr Brown?’ he teased.

Her smile broadened. ‘Better than that.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ She reached up to stroke his face. ‘I love you, Ben.’

Love?

She’d just said it. The L word. The word that marked the beginning of the end. He went cold. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not with Kirsty. He’d always thought she was safe—that was half the reason he’d dragged her into this crazy engagement of convenience in the first place. But now she was saying she loved him. Which meant commitment. Which meant he’d hurt her. Which meant…

Fingers of ice rippled up his spine and he pulled away, turning to lie on his back.

She shifted onto her side, propping herself on one elbow so she could see his face. ‘Ben?’

‘Sorry. I’m a bit tired. Hard day,’ he said.

The look on her face told him he wasn’t convincing. Not even slightly.

‘Kirsty…’ He took her hand. ‘Look, it’s not you. It’s me.’

Worse and worse. He had to shut up now, before he told her they ought to cool things a bit, give themselves some time and space. Though that was what he’d tell her if he was being sensible. This whole thing was happening way too fast for him. And for her. She had her career to think about, and he…he…

‘I, er, I think I’ll have a shower,’ Kirsty said, her voice subdued.

‘Mmm-hmm.’

He didn’t dare look at her as she slid from the bed. He knew what he’d see written in her face. Hurt. Rejection. Confusion.

Why couldn’t he have just told her he loved her, too? He did love her. Just…not in the way she wanted it. Not the white-lace-and-promises kind of love. What he felt for Kirsty was…different. It was the friendship kind of love. Deeper than he’d ever felt for anyone else, and not having her in his life would be like not being able to see colours any more, but it wasn’t the right kind of love for her.

What was he going to do? He needed to make things all right again, but he knew they could never go back to their old friendship. Not after the way things had been between them these past couple of weeks. What the
hell
was he going to do?

He found himself holding his breath as he heard the bathroom door close. Every second brought her nearer his door. How was he going to face her?

He wasn’t. Because she walked right past his door, back to her own room. He heard the door close. And then he closed his eyes in utter misery, wondering just how he was going to make it up to her.

CHAPTER TEN

W
HY
,
why, why did you have to open your big mouth? Kirsty asked herself. Things were fine between you. You were happy—
both
of you were happy. But, no, you had to assume that you were different from his usual women; you had to rush in and tell Ben you love him instead of waiting until he was ready to hear it.

She’d known it had been a mistake the moment the words were out of her mouth. That sudden, stricken look in his eyes…If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said he’d actually panicked. The end result was the same. He’d backed off. He hadn’t even suggested taking a shower with her. And the cold water had brought back enough of her senses to make her walk past his room to her own. She wasn’t going to
beg
him to love her.

What now?

He didn’t feel the same way about her, that was for sure. And the chances of going back to their old friendship was looking pretty remote. Which left…what?

* * *

They avoided each other the next morning. Kirsty skulked in her room until she heard Ben leave, then took the long way to work so she wouldn’t accidentally bump into him. She took all her breaks in the surgical rest-room rather than braving the staff restaurant—no way did she want to face him in front of an audience—and she studied late at the hospital, not going home until she was sure he was likely to be out.

To her relief, he was. She made herself a scratch meal of pasta with a tuna and tomato sauce, then went to her room, turning the light out as soon as she heard the front door close. Would he come to her? She waited, breathing shallowly, but he simply took a shower and went straight to his own room without knocking on her door.

She was on early again the next morning, while he was on late and didn’t come down for breakfast. There was no message for her beneath the salt-cellar, and they managed to avoid each other again at work. When the third day like that went by, Kirsty knew it was hopeless. It was over. Completely over. A world without Ben was unthinkable—but that was how her life was going to be from now on. A world where all the rainbows had dissolved, the sun had dimmed and the birds had stopped singing. Just cold, empty days stretching from here to eternity.

The thought chilled her so much that she forgot to use her kid gloves with Chambers in Theatre.

‘A subtotal gastrectomy,’ he said, referring to Keith Marchant, their patient with an intractable peptic ulcer. ‘Which means what, Fisher?’

‘Removal of a portion of the stomach, including the ulcer-bearing area and part of the parietal cell mass.’

‘And why?

‘It reduces the risk of the ulcer becoming malignant in the future.’

‘Good.’

Even before the words were out, Kirsty knew she shouldn’t have said them. ‘Why not a selective vagotomy?’

‘Are you questioning my judgement, Brown?’

‘Just suggesting an alternative,’ she said. ‘If we do a resection of the vagus nerve, it’ll reduce the stimulation of the gastric secretions and stop the pain.’

‘And reduce the motility of the stomach, which interferes with gastric emptying,’ Chambers snapped back.

Put up or shut up. But her mouth wasn’t working in tandem with her brain. ‘That’s why Tony does a selective vagotomy—leaving part of the vagus nerve intact, especially the sections supplying the antrum.’

She’d well and truly waved the red flag: Tony. ‘That might be how
Tony
did things,’ Chambers rapped, ‘but it isn’t the way
I
do things.’

She could have retrieved the situation by suggesting that Paul needed to know all the options and maybe they should talk about pyloroplasty as well, where they surgically altered the pylorus to improve gastric emptying. But from the look in Chambers’s eyes, he didn’t want to turn this into a teaching case and if she said another word he’d explode. It wasn’t fair on Paul—or their patient—so she subsided. Fast. And observed while Chambers did the operation
his
way.

That evening she wrote Ben a note, put it in an envelope, together with her engagement ring, and left it under the salt-cellar. Three more phone calls, and she’d set everything in motion.

* * *

I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I know we can’t be friends again, so I’ll just wish you well for the future. I’ll explain to Morag. K.

Ben read the note four times before the words sank in. Kirsty had returned his ring—and she was going to explain
what
exactly to Morag? And what did she mean, wishing him well for the future? Where was she going?

Oh, hell. He took the stairs three at a time. Kirsty’s room was empty. With growing unease, he checked her wardrobe. Her overnight bag was gone. Her clothes all seemed to be there, and she might have lent the bag to someone so it didn’t necessarily mean she’d gone…did it?

He checked the bathroom. Toothbrush, toothpaste, her favourite lemon-scented shower gel, shampoo…All gone. Well, maybe she’d just gone to stay with a friend overnight, just taking one change of clothes with her.

Oh, who was he trying to kid? There was only one place she could have gone, and he knew it.

He rang the airport. The flight for Inverness had left and, no, they couldn’t give out passenger information.

Half an hour later, he was at the flight desk, making the request in person. ‘I really need to know if my fiancée made the flight. My gran’s answering machine stopped working in the middle of Kirsty’s message so she doesn’t know what time the flight gets in.’ He was lying through his teeth, but he had to know. Had she really gone to Scotland?

Some of his desperation must have shown in his voice or his eyes, because the desk clerk took pity on him. ‘The flight gets in at half past ten.’

‘And Kirsty Brown was definitely on it?’

‘We’re not supposed to give out information like that.’

‘Please?’ His voice cracked.

She unbent even further. ‘Yes.’

‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ Ben squeezed her hand. ‘Now I can go and ring my gran.’

Except Morag wasn’t answering the phone. And she’d left her answering machine switched off. Ben tried every ten minutes for the next hour. Finally, he admitted defeat. If Morag had gone to meet Kirsty at the airport, she probably knew everything already. There was nothing he could do about it. And it was getting too late to ring now—he’d call in the morning then get the next flight possible.