Rescued by Dr. Rafe (7 page)

He tried again and failed. He must be awake. Rafe stumbled out of bed and drew the curtains, looking up at the sky. It was iron-grey and threatening, but at least it wasn't raining.

Turning, he caught his breath. If none of the rest of Mimi's house held any memories, this room was full of them. The walls were a plain cream colour, and the pale blue patterned curtains and bedding were unfamiliar, but the bed was the sturdy pine one that he and Mimi had shared. And against the far wall was an old mahogany wash stand.

The memory hit him like a punch to the chest and Rafe wondered for a moment whether his heart had really stopped or it just felt that it had. They'd found the washstand in an auction, sitting unwanted in the corner and covered with grime. But Mimi had seen some virtue in it and so Rafe had put in a bid and secured it for her. When they'd got it home, she'd gone to work on it, carefully polishing up the wood to reveal an age-old patina, removing the brass handles and making them shine. It had sat in the corner of their bedroom, transformed from a piece of junk to something precious.

He supposed that Mimi's ruthless purge of the cottage had been tempered by practicality. Here in the spare room, she didn't have to look at the furniture all that often, and so the few things that reminded her of him which she hadn't wanted to throw away had been consigned to this room, where she could shut the door on them.

The bed, rumpled on one side only, filled him with an unexpected sadness. He'd told himself that he was over Mimi. That had been a mistake, but he could rectify it. Last night had given him hope that perhaps they both might find some closure.

He wondered briefly whether he should pull some clothes from his overnight bag to make the three strides across the hallway to the bathroom door, but the towel was large and thick and it was easier to just wrap it around his waist. From the mouth-watering smells coming from the kitchen, Mimi was downstairs cooking, anyway.

He opened the bedroom door at almost exactly the same time as hers opened. Rafe caught a glimpse of her startled face, her green ambulance uniform, and then the door closed with a loud slam.

‘Sorry. You first...' Her voice came from behind the door.

Rafe called back a thank you, wondering how she could be in two places at once. This was nothing she hadn't seen before, more times than either of them could count. So why had her sudden startled look sent an electric pulse travelling across his bare shoulders? And why had she slammed the door with such agitated force?

He padded across the hallway, shut himself in the bathroom and locked the door, switching on the shower. Clearly he had some more thinking to do before he could work out what either he or Mimi really felt.

CHAPTER SEVEN

M
IMI
HAD
WAITED
until she heard the shower running and then gone downstairs to see how Charlie was doing with the breakfast and put away the shopping he'd brought for her. When she heard Rafe's footsteps again, and the door of the spare room close, she ventured up to the bathroom to empty the washing basket.

‘Doing his washing, now?' Charlie raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh, be quiet.' The thought had already occurred to Mimi and she was trying to ignore it. ‘He's meant to be staying at the hospital and he can't get these washed there. And we don't have time to visit the laundrette...'

She pressed her lips closed. Charlie was grinning, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and she was protesting far too much. Mimi dumped the pile of clothes on to the floor, almost glad that the nasty-smelling mud on the legs of Rafe's jeans was enough to overwhelm his scent.

Automatically, she felt in the pockets. A little loose change in one, and in the other... Held securely in his pocket by a clip, Mimi knew what it was before she even drew it out.

‘What's that?' Charlie's question made her realise that she was staring at the watch, running her thumb slowly across the face of it.

‘He must have taken his watch off last night, so it didn't get caught in anything.' It was an expensive watch, but that wasn't what made it special. It wasn't obvious at first sight but, when you looked more closely, an old silver sixpence was set in the centre of the dial, behind the hands.

The strap was different, and he'd obviously had the glass replaced because the scratches that she remembered were gone. But the sixpence was what mattered. Rafe had said that his grandfather had carried it in his pocket for years, and then had the watch made for his only grandson when he went to medical school, saying he'd had all the luck he could stand and he was passing it on now.

Something tugged at her heart. She'd seen Rafe take this watch off the nightstand every morning and put it on. Having grown up in a world where he was surrounded by things of material value, this was the only one he seemed to care all that much about. He must have been so tired last night that he'd forgotten that it was in his pocket.

‘Still got his lucky watch, then.' Charlie chuckled. ‘Good thing
that
didn't go into the washing machine.'

‘Yeah.' Mimi put the watch down on the table. Even there, it seemed to be radiating some signal, activating memories that she'd rather not think about at the moment.

She stuffed the clothes into the washing machine and was fiddling with the dial when Rafe appeared at the kitchen door. Thankfully he was dressed now.

She could hardly look at him. His thick, dark blue shirt was open at the neck and tucked into jeans that fitted better than they had any right to. Mimi thought she recognised the brown leather belt, or one quite like it. Suddenly this was almost worse than seeing him half-naked. The shirt couldn't conceal his broad shoulders, and the jeans only accentuated his slim hips. And her treacherous memory was busy filling in the gaps, reminding her that she knew every inch of his body and that it had always been beautiful.

‘Have you seen...?' He was clearly looking for something.

‘On the table.'

‘Ah... Thanks.'

Mimi turned her back on him, studying the instructions on the packet of washing powder as if this was the first time she'd ever washed clothes. She'd armed herself against all the obvious things, his smile, his scent, but she'd forgotten all about the watch and it had sneaked in under her defences. She'd deal with it, though. Just as long as she didn't have to see him put it on...

Charlie came to her rescue. ‘Hey Rafe. Good night's sleep?'

‘Yes, thanks. Much better than if I'd stayed at the hospital.' He seemed to want to explain his presence here.

‘I imagine so. Sit down; breakfast's almost ready.'

The scrape of a chair and then a sudden laughing exclamation from Rafe. ‘Really?'

Mimi turned and saw that Charlie had pulled himself out of the wheelchair and was sitting on a high stool next to the cooker.

‘Yeah, really. Took a bit of work.'

‘I'll bet. Nice one.'

Rafe was grinning from ear to ear. The same grin that Mimi had worn for days when she'd seen Charlie wave away his physiotherapist's help, leaning heavily on the parallel bars for support as he took his first laborious steps. Now, standing and even walking a little was something he did many times a day.

Suddenly it seemed all wrong that Rafe had missed out on that. She could have at least sent him a text to let him know how well Charlie was doing. She could have, but she hadn't.

‘Have you heard from Jack?' Rafe was leaning back in his chair, still smiling.

‘Oh... Yes. He texted me. Holme's completely cut off at the moment, so he'll be staying there for the next twenty four hours at least.'

‘Everything's okay with him, though?' Charlie interjected.

‘He said so.' Jack hadn't gone into details about exactly what he was up to, and Mimi had been happy to take his lead. ‘Apparently ambulance control told him the same as me—that they don't have a spare vehicle and he should take his days off. They'll sort something out for when we go back on shift.'

‘And, in the meantime, you and Rafe are doing your thing.'

Shut up, Charlie
. Mimi gave him a withering look and he ignored it and began to dole out the contents of the pans on to three plates. Like so many other weekends when the three of them had eaten together, only then it had been either Mimi or Rafe doing most of the cooking.

Now, Rafe was sitting back, watching. He knew as well as Mimi did that you only helped Charlie when asked.

‘Come and get it, then.' Charlie had finished serving the food and Mimi went to collect the plates and transfer them to the table.

‘This looks good.' It was a full English breakfast and Charlie had crammed as much as he could on to each plate. ‘I'm starving.'

‘Me too.' She heard Rafe behind her but didn't dare look round at him. His hand shot out of nowhere and suddenly he was shaking Charlie's hand. ‘Really good to see you on your feet, mate.'

‘Thanks.' Charlie shifted on the stool and Mimi got out from in between them, carrying two of the plates over to the table. When she looked around, she almost dropped them.

Charlie was on his feet and Rafe had him in a man hug. It wasn't so out of the ordinary for Charlie—he did that kind of thing all the time—but Rafe... All the same, there was no trace of stiffness or reluctance on his part.

‘I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it.' The admission startled her even more. The old Rafe would have just sucked up his regret and walked away, never mentioning it.

Mimi put the plates down on the table. She was going to have to find a way of not watching Rafe's every move, hoping to find evidence that he'd changed. She was going to have to find a way of not caring, and do it quickly before he left again.

* * *

As expected, they didn't have to wait long before they had a call from the control centre. With eight hours sleep and a good meal inside her, Mimi felt a great deal better about that. Being able to see where they were going was no bad thing either. As they moved closer to the flood area, large puddles had become lakes and the fields were now deep in water.

The car slowed and came to a halt. In front of them, a dip in the road was knee-deep in water for the next couple of hundred yards.

‘Can we manage that?'

Rafe was surveying the path ahead of them. ‘I'd rather not try if there's an alternative.'

Mimi nodded. The surface of the water was almost serene but that could be deceptive. The road underneath could be strewn with sharp rocks and potholes, any one of which had the potential to put them off the road.

‘That looks a better bet.'

Rafe turned the car abruptly on to a track that wound upwards and Mimi saw a handwritten notice pinned to a tree:
Diversion and Manor Hotel.

‘Yep.' She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. The Manor Hotel's main driveway was three miles further along this road. If they could get up to the hotel from here and then drop back down again they'd avoid the flooded section of road.

She wondered if Rafe remembered. Because, as the old stately house loomed on the horizon, she was having difficulty forgetting.

Date night. Although it had been more than five years ago now, it was suddenly fresh and clear in Mimi's memory, a treasure that had remained untouched and unchanged. Preserved in every detail, right down to the note she'd found on the kitchen table when she'd come home from work.

Going out tonight. Dress up.

By the time Rafe had arrived home she'd been almost ready. He'd showered and changed into a suit, and complimented her on her dress. Then he'd kissed her, refused to tell her where they were going, and led her to the car.

They'd driven here. It had been a summer's night and they'd dined on the patio, with flickering torches lending a sense of drama to a good meal. As dusk had begun to fall he'd dropped a room key into her hand...

‘A four-poster!' The solid, dark wood structure had been big enough to close the curtains, shut the world out for a night and have Rafe entirely to herself. ‘I've never slept in a four-poster before.'

‘You want to sleep?' Rafe's wicked, seductive smile had made it very clear that sleep wasn't on his agenda.

‘Got a better idea?' she'd teased him.

‘Much better...' He'd taken off his jacket and loosened his tie. Picking up a wooden chair from the corner of the room, he'd placed it carefully and sat down. Mimi had known just what he wanted. If she stood in front of him he would be able to see her back, reflected in the big mirror over the dressing table, which would give him a three-sixty-degree view when she unzipped her dress.

Undressing slowly, she'd revelled in his gaze, his murmurs of approval pricking at her senses like fingers running over her skin. Finally she'd shaken her hair free across her shoulders and advanced towards him, perching on his knee.

‘What next? Since you seem to have a plan.' Whatever it was, she had really wanted to hear it.

‘Call it a fantasy.' He'd nuzzled against her neck, running his hands across her body. ‘You up for that?'

‘Fantasy night...? Yes, I'm up for it.'

He'd had to help her unbutton his shirt because her hands had been shaking with anticipation. When he was naked, his clothes flung in an untidy heap on the floor, he'd broken away from her kisses, moved the chair a few inches and sat down again, his legs stretched out in front of him.

‘Come here, honey...'

He'd settled her on to his lap, astride his legs. She had been completely exposed to him, her back reflected in the mirror.

‘You like what you see?'

‘You know I do, Mimi. More than I can say.' Rafe had spread his hands possessively across her back. ‘I want to see everything. Touch every part of you.'

She'd clung to him as his gentle hands did just that and she'd been blind to anything other than Rafe. When he'd lifted her, she'd reached to guide him inside, sighing with him as he'd lowered her back down.

‘You like what you feel?' He'd whispered the words, his breath caressing her neck.

‘I love what I feel.'

The heat had started to build. Locked in each other's gaze, breathing together, hearts beating together more and more urgently. His hands had found her hips, suddenly clamping firm, moving her in the urgent rhythm that her body craved.

‘Rafe...I can't wait...'

‘Then don't.'

He'd seemed intent on making her come as fast and as hard as he could, and she'd known that if he kept this up he would get exactly what he wanted.

‘Just let go, honey...'

The fantasy vanished abruptly as Rafe jammed his foot on the brake and the car jolted to a halt. Four other cars were all trying to negotiate the forecourt of the hotel and the man standing outside, trying to direct the traffic, wasn't helping very much. Rafe wound down the window, exchanging good-natured hand signals, and the car that had shot out in front of them backed up.

She could still almost taste his kisses. The last time they'd been here together, she'd been thinking about them for days, but then she'd been basking in a rosy glow of satisfaction and now the memories just left her hanging.

‘Sorry...' Rafe was looking at her, and Mimi realised she'd let out a gasp when the car had stopped and she'd been thrown forward against her seat belt.

‘Okay. His fault; he was lucky you managed to miss him.' She tried to swallow down the languorous warmth that she heard in her voice.

‘Getting a bit crowded around here...' He waved another car past and pulled on to the main driveway, which led back on to the road.

‘Yeah.' Too many memories. Mimi wondered if Rafe could feel them, hovering in the air. It was impossible to tell; his face was impassive, his gaze trained on the route ahead.

He had been a wonderful lover. Tender, thoughtful, with enough raw passion that they'd lost themselves in each other. But now they'd both found their way again. It was just a pity they'd only been able to do that when they were apart.

The car turned back on to the main road, clear of the water that had blocked their path. ‘What's the next call again?' It was better to keep her mind on the job. Better to stop re-examining old wounds and concentrate on moving forward.

‘It's a Mrs Potter. The controllers couldn't get much sense out of her; all she would say was that her son might be unwell.'

‘Might be?'

‘We'll see.'

It turned out that Mrs Potter was panicking because she couldn't get in touch with her son on the phone. Rafe had swallowed the frustration that Mimi knew he must feel and spent a few minutes checking the number that she was calling. The addition of a zero at the beginning worked wonders and her son answered immediately, clearly in the best of health. They left her in the sitting room, talking animatedly on the phone, and let themselves out.