Just One Last Night.... Amy AndrewsЧитать онлайн книгу.
not a question. ‘No.’
Brent rejected the slither of hope her denial engendered. ‘Divorced?’
‘No.’
‘Widowed?’
‘No.’
‘In any kind of a relationship with their father?’
‘No.’
Brent regarded her for a moment. She looked so aloof behind her glasses and her salon-styled hair. It was all layered and shaggy at the back with multi hues of blonde and brown. Her bangs swept across her forehead and the sides neatly tucked behind the ears. She looked like a poster girl in an optometrist’s window.
Gorgeous but untouchable.
‘In any kind of relationship at all?’
Grace raised her chin. None of this was his business and she was damned if she was going to unload the whole sorry story on him just because once upon a time he’d been a really good listener. Even if she did feel absurdly like doing just that.
The details of her personal life were on a need-to-know basis only. And he did not need to know.
‘I hardly see that as being relevant, do you?’
So that was a no …’I thought you never, ever wanted kids.’
Grace did not appreciate his accusatory tone. ‘I was twenty years old, Brent.’ God, had she ever been that young?
He nodded. ‘I do believe I made that point at the time but you were pretty adamant.’
Grace was weary. She spent most of her days arguing with a recalcitrant teenager. She didn’t have the emotional energy to play one-upmanship with an ex-lover.
Even if he’d been her first.
And the best.
She shrugged. ‘It was two decades ago, Brent. So sue me.’
Right now suing her was the last thing on his mind. Shaking her, on the other hand, was looking more and more viable. Putting her over his knee and spanking her even more so.
But there was a tiredness to her words, to the set of her shoulders that gave him pause.
She was right.
It had been twenty years. An age ago. They’d been kids. Young and in love and foolish.
And it belonged in the past.
He sighed. ‘Would you like a tour of the department?’
Grace eyed him warily. The doctor in her was exceedingly interested in a tour of Melbourne Central’s state-of-the-art Department of Emergency Medicine. She was, after all, hopefully about to become its director.
But the woman inside was urging her to run away. Fast. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.
Do not do anything that prolonged their time together.
Do not be foolish.
She’d been foolish with him before and where had it got her?
Flunking medical school.
She thought back to that day, that horrible day when she’d got her anatomy results. The fail had viciously yanked the blinkers from her eyes. Burst the happy little love-is-enough bubble she’d been floating around in.
She’d been on a scholarship, for crying out loud. With twelve mouths to feed her parents hadn’t been able to afford to send her to uni and she’d worked her butt off to earn that full scholarship.
One that had demanded academic success. Not failure.
She’d known right then it was medicine or Brent. Both of them were all-consuming. Both of them demanded a singular focus.
She’d had to choose.
She’d wanted to be a doctor since she’d been eight years old and had had her appendix out.
She’d loved Brent for two years.
And in those two short years he’d made her forget all her career aspirations and long-term goals. He’d made her fail anatomy. He’d put her scholarship on the line.
Ending it, transferring to another uni, had been the logical thing to do.
But it had hurt. Oh, how it had hurt.
Twenty years on the stakes were even higher. Her life was careening out of control and this was her chance to get it back on track. It wasn’t just about her any more. There were two kids involved.
But how foolish would it be to pass up this opportunity? She needed to be informed and who better to do so than the current—if temporary—director? The doctor inside, the pragmatist, knew it made sense. And she’d got through the last twenty years, made a success of her life by listening to the doctor and not the woman.
It would be foolish to start doing so now.
CHAPTER TWO
BRENT put everything, including the fact that Grace was a rival for his job, aside and gave her the full tour. When he’d been seconded to Melbourne Central he’d been far from enthusiastic about the change. After fifteen years at the Royal Melbourne he had been utterly dedicated to his old hospital.
He’d planned on taking the helm, keeping the ship running until they found the right candidate and then head back to the Royal.
But since moving into the brand spanking new Melbourne Central he’d changed his mind. He’d realised he’d grown stagnant staying in one place. Roots were all well and good but the challenge of heading a new department, if only temporarily, had been exhilarating. And working with top-notch equipment in state-of-the-art facilities had been a luxury he’d quickly grown used to.
He’d put his stamp on this place and he was proud to share it with Grace. To show her that the boy with dreams she’d once known had more than fulfilled his goals.
He showed her around the twenty cubicles and seven resus beds, introduced her to the staff and demonstrated the central monitoring and fully integrated computer system that was run from the central work station.
Afterwards he took her around the other side of the station and opened a door. ‘And this is my office.’
Grace looked inside. It wasn’t palatial. But it was big enough, with a decent-sized desk and a very comfortable-looking leather chair. She looked at him. ‘You mean my office?’
Brent gave a grudging half-laugh. ‘Okay, the director’s office.’
His laughter slipped over her skin like a satin nightgown—light and silky—and Grace smiled. For a moment. Before reality intruded. ‘What will you do if I get the job?’
Brent regarded her for a few moments, wondering whether to tell the truth. He decided to give her no quarter. The old Grace hadn’t liked to be mollycoddled.
‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I really don’t see that happening, Grace. I’ve been here since the beginning. They’re only advertising the role because they have to. It’s just a formality.’
Grace held his gaze. It was surprisingly gentle, considering the impact of his words, and had come over all tawny again. She appreciated his frankness. Hell, she’d suspected as much when he’d told her he was acting in the position.
Still, it irked. She needed it. Jobs like this at her senior level, with regular hours, didn’t grow on trees. She wasn’t just going to cede it to him.
‘Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?’
Brent saw the chin tilt again. ‘You want it that badly?’
‘I need it,’ she corrected.
Brent knew the concession wouldn’t