Nurse In Need

‘Oh.’ Amy felt a wave of dizziness. ‘I’m surprised, Nigel.’

‘You don’t look very excited.’

‘Where am I supposed to live, Nigel? While you’re living in Sydney?’

Nigel’s smile was contrite. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Amy. You didn’t think I was planning to leave you behind, did you? I have no intention of going until after the wedding, don’t worry. We won’t have to be separated for any length of time.’

‘And this wedding is going to be in October, right?’

‘If that’s what you’d like.’ Nigel was still smiling, pleased at having sorted out the misunderstanding.

‘You mean I get a say in this after all?’

Nigel now looked disconcerted. ‘Maybe we should talk about this later, Amy.’

‘Maybe we should,’ Amy agreed. Maybe it wasn’t just Nigel’s mother who was autocratic and overbearing. Amy felt confused. There was too much she needed to think about and her brain wasn’t functioning nearly as clearly as it had been before that last glass of champagne. ‘Excuse me, Nigel, but I really need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Again?’

Amy took pleasure in ignoring Nigel’s vaguely disapproving tone. She walked out of the drawing room, through the conservatory where she helped herself to a bottle of champagne waiting on the side table. Then she let herself out of the French doors onto a verandah that overlooked the garden. Stepping carefully, Amy negotiated the steps and turned onto a path that she knew led to the summer house.

‘What does he expect?’ Amy muttered to herself. ‘He clicks his fingers and I give up my job and trot off to Sydney?’ She paused to drink champagne and top up her glass. ‘What am I supposed to be? Robo-Wife?’

Maybe Jennifer was right and she shouldn’t marry Nigel. What did he have going for him, apart from being single, successful, usually charming and apparently madly in love with her?

‘Oh, hell.’ Amy took another mouthful of wine. He had quite a lot going for him, really. Was she going to throw it all away because she felt miffed that Nigel hadn’t asked what she’d wanted before letting his mother plan the wedding?

The floodlighting hadn’t been turned on at the summer house but the white paintwork was easy enough to see in the dark. A mossy statue to one side of the garden structure was also just visible. A sort of large garden nymph holding garlands of foliage.

‘Why is it?’ Amy asked the statue, ‘that the things that really matter to me don’t seem to be important to anyone else?’

To Amy’s astonishment, the statue answered her. ‘You tell me,’ it said.

‘It’s because I was never quite good enough,’ Amy told the statue sadly. ‘I was supposed to have been a boy, you know.’

‘Really?’ The statue seemed very interested.

‘Yes.’ Amy drained her glass. ‘My father never got over the disappointment.’

‘Well, he was a bloody idiot, then, wasn’t he?’ The statue was moving. Amy gasped in horror as the figure stepped from the shadows. Even in this dim light she recognised him. He was still wearing the same faded jeans and leather jacket. Amy’s gaze travelled up to meet his. She felt that odd physical buzz again. The only eye contact in existence with the ability to caress. There could be no doubt at all, even in her fuzzy state. It was definitely the same man.

‘You’ve been following me around all day,’ Amy said accusingly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘I heard there was a party.’

Amy eyed his clothing suspiciously. ‘Were you invited, then?’

The man grinned. ‘No. I’m gatecrashing.’

Amy narrowed her gaze. ‘So why are you out here hiding in the garden, then?’

‘I’m still trying to decide whether I want to go in or not.’ He stepped closer. ‘Do you think I should?’

‘No.’ Amy tilted the bottle towards her glass. ‘It’s not much fun.’ The slosh of champagne missed her glass and foamed over her hand.

‘Here, let me.’ The man took the bottle from her hand and held the glass as he filled it. Then he took a long swallow before setting both the bottle and glass down on the white wrought-iron table. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he took hold of Amy’s hand and wiped it.

‘I’m sorry you’re not having fun,’ he commiserated.

‘So am I,’ Amy agreed wistfully. She looked at her hand. It was dry now but was still being held. Looking up, she found his gaze fixed firmly on her face. His eyes were brown. A lovely, warm, velvety brown. Comforting but disturbing at the same time. ‘Why are you staring at me?’

‘You’re a very attractive woman.’

‘You’ve been staring at me all day.’

‘You’ve been very attractive all day.’

Amy smiled. He didn’t miss a beat. A smooth talker. He was probably very good at kissing, too. Her gaze slid down involuntarily to assess his lips.

‘I’ve been thinking about that myself.’

‘About what?’ Amy murmured. She wasn’t ready to be distracted.

‘About this.’ Smoothly, he moved closer. Bent his head and touched his lips to hers. And there was Amy Brooks, absent without leave from her own engagement party, kissing a total stranger in the summer house. And she had been right. He was very good. Very, very good. Amy didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t care about breathing any more. Who needed air when you had this?

But he did stop. He drew back from her lips slowly. Maybe he didn’t really want to stop either.

‘Sent from heaven is right,’ he said in awed tones. The soft brown gaze was locked on Amy again. ‘You are an angel.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Must be something in the air. I hear that Nigel is announcing his engagement to some poor woman tonight.’

The observation had all the effect of a cold shower. ‘He is,’ Amy confirmed curtly. ‘And I’m the poor woman.’

The man let go of her as if he’d been burnt. He took a step back. ‘What the hell were you kissing me for, then?’

‘I wasn’t,’ Amy denied hotly. ‘You were kissing me.’

‘You let me.’

‘So it’s all my fault?’ Amy queried sweetly. ‘Typical!’

‘You must be mad,’ the man told her.

‘Why, because I let you kiss me? I might be inclined to agree with you there, mate.’

‘Because you’re planning to marry Nigel Wesley.’ The gaze, still fixed on Amy, darkened. He actually looked angry. ‘What’s the attraction?’ he asked unpleasantly. ‘Money?’

‘Of course not,’ Amy snapped. ‘And it’s none of your business.’ He wasn’t the only one who could get angry. ‘Just what gives you the right to express opinions on something you know absolutely nothing about?’ Amy snorted incredulously. ‘What is it about me? Even a perfect stranger thinks he can tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing.’ Amy snatched up the bottle of champagne and her glass.

‘Stay out of it,’ she ordered imperiously. ‘And stop…’ She glanced over her shoulder, causing her progress down the path to weave quite dramatically. ‘Stop staring at me.’