An Unexpected Bonus

And now Ed Latimer had come strolling into her life, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, all testosterone and laughing eyes, and her self-control was lying on the floor, belly-up and grinning like a submissive dog!

‘This is awful! What on earth’s the matter with all of you? Two weeks off and you’ve all keeled over and died!’

There was a chorus of feeble protest, and their hard-pressed producer threw down her script and stalked into the kitchen. Jo met Laura’s eyes and smiled encouragingly, then went into the kitchen after Roz, closing the door quietly.

‘Roz?’

‘It’s like this every year! I don’t know why I do it! They screech through by the skin of their teeth, just about pulling the thing together by the final dress rehearsal—sometimes not even then! This is the thirteenth year, you realise that? I knew we ought to give it a rest, but they wouldn’t listen. It’ll be fine, they all said, and now look at them! Corpsed, the lot of them, the second you take their scripts away! Well, that’s it. They’re not having their scripts again, any of them, and they can just manage with the prompt!’

Jo soothed Roz’s ruffled feathers and gave her time to settle down. ‘Perhaps we ought to have our break early and let everyone calm down a bit—the urn’s hot now. Why don’t I make a big pot of tea and open the biscuits and we’ll try again in a little while?’

Roz stabbed her hands through her hair and gave a stifled scream. ‘They drive me nuts,’ she confessed.

‘You love it.’

‘I know. I must be a masochist.’

They shared a smile, and Jo filled the teapot while Roz poured milk into the cups. ‘We still need another man for the chorus—I don’t suppose your new doctor wants to get involved?’ Roz asked her.

She slopped the tea into a saucer and splashed her hand. ‘Damn,’ she muttered, and put down the pot. ‘I don’t know—why don’t you ask him? I expect he’ll be too busy.’

‘Would you ask him for me, as you’ll see him?’

And, just like that, she was forced into a corner from which there was no escape.

‘Hi, there.’

Shivers ran up Jo’s spine and made her hair tingle against her scalp. She turned, groping for a smile that wasn’t completely idiotic, and forced herself to meet Ed’s eyes. ‘Hi, there, yourself,’ she said, and was very proud of the fact that her voice only croaked the tiniest bit.

‘How are things? Any imminent obstetrics for me?’

‘Sorry.’ She shook her head and smiled a more natural smile. ‘They’re all hanging on till their due dates.’

‘Even your lady the other night?’

‘Even her. Sorry. I’ve got an antenatal class at the hospital in a minute—I’ll ask them if they want to get a wriggle on for you, shall I?’

He chuckled and reached out to test the kettle, and the sun slanting through the window caught his hair, gleaming on the red lights in it and turning it a rich, deep chestnut. It was a lovely colour, much more interesting than plain dark brown, and she wanted to reach out and touch it…

There should be enough in there for you,’ she told him, dragging her attention back to the kettle. ‘It’s just boiled.’

Tea for you?’

‘I’m OK.’ She held up her full mug to show him, and he nodded and snagged a mug off the draining-board.

‘No doubt they’ll all produce in the fullness of time,’ he said, going back to their previous conversation. ‘We’ve had two in the past week—I suppose that’s my ration.’

‘Absolutely. I’ve got something to ask you, by the way, talking of producing. The thirteenth annual Yoxburgh panto is short of a male chorus member—Roz asked me to ask you, but I told her you’d be too busy.’

He turned and met her eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Why are they short?’

‘Why did you tell her I’d be too busy?’

She felt a little touch of colour brush her cheeks. ‘I don’t know—I just thought you would be,’ she faltered. ‘It’s quite a punishing rehearsal schedule. It’s up to you. Of course, if you want to do it you’d be more than welcome—I was just trying to give you a way out if you wanted one. It can be pretty tedious.’

She floundered to a halt and looked up at him again, to find him watching her with understanding.

‘If you don’t want me to do it, just say so, Jo,’ he murmured, and his voice was like raw silk, sliding over her nerve endings.

She laughed, a forced little hiccup of sound. ‘Don’t be daft. I just thought you wouldn’t be interested. It’s very amateur.’

‘Are you in it?’

She nodded. ‘Yes—for my sins, I’ve got the female lead. Heaven knows when I’ll get time to learn the lines.’

‘Is it fun?’ he asked, and with a sudden flash of insight she realised he was lonely and would actually like to join in. Good grief, a willing volunteer. That was a first!

It was beyond her to exclude him just for her own selfish reasons.

‘Yes, it is fun,’ she told him, relenting. ‘It would help your patients get to know you as a person as well. It could be good for your image—they’re a bit slow to let you in round here.’

He shot her a quizzical look. ‘I noticed.’

She coloured again, and looked down at her hands. ‘I’m sorry. I just felt that if we had to work together all the time and ended up at the panto rehearsals, well, it might be a bit…’

‘Much?’

She nodded.

‘Does it unsettle you?’ he asked softly. ‘My proximity?’

She looked up into his eyes—those stunningly magnetic storm-grey eyes that seemed to see right to the heart of her—and nodded again, just slightly. ‘A little,’ she confessed.

His mouth tipped in a crooked and endearing grin. ‘That makes two of us. I’m not exactly immune to you, either.’

She stood up, pushing her chair back and trying for a bit of authority. ‘That doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it. We have to work together, Ed. I don’t think we can do that if we’re…’ She ran out of words, unusually for her, but he was there again.

‘Involved?’ he offered. A lazy smile lurked in his eyes.

‘Exactly.’

He shrugged and grinned again. ‘OK. If I promise to keep my distance, can I join the pantomime?’

‘Of course you can.’ She returned his smile. ‘It is awful, though. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.’

He chuckled. ‘OK. When’s the next rehearsal?’