The Scandalous Kolovskys: Knight on the Children's Ward. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
strange freedom, exhilaration ripping through her, and Ross was laughing too.
‘Better?’
‘Much.’ She was breathless—from laughing, from riding, from dragging in the delicious scent of dusk, and then, when she slid off the horse and he spread out a picnic, she was breathless from just looking at him.
‘It helped,’ Annika said. ‘You were right.’
‘After a bad day at work,’ Ross said, ‘or a difficult night, this is what I do and it works every time.’ He gave her a smile. ‘It worked for me today.’
‘Was today a bad day?’ Annika asked, and he looked at her.
‘Today was an exceptionally bad day.’
‘Really?’ She cast her mind back. Was there something she had missed on the ward? An emergency in ICU, perhaps?
But Ross smiled. ‘I had a meeting with the CEO!’
‘I wondered what was with the suit.’
‘On my return they want me to commit to a three-year contract. So far I have managed to avoid it …’
‘Does a three-year contract worry you?’
‘More the conditions.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘I’m a good doctor, Annika, but apparently wearing a suit every day will make me a better one.’
‘At least it’s not an apron,’ she joked, but then she was serious. ‘You are a good doctor—but why would you commit if you are not sure it is what you want?’
And never, not once, had he had that response.
Always, for ever and always, it had been, ‘It’s just a suit. What about the mortgage? What if …?’
‘I love my job,’ Ross said.
‘Do you love the kids or the job?’ Annika checked, and Ross smiled again. ‘There will always be work for you, Ross.’
‘I’ve also been worrying about you.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me.’
‘Oh, but I do.’
They ate cold roast beef and hot mustard sandwiches and drank water. The evening was so still and delicious, so very relaxing compared to the drama waiting for her at home.
‘I should get back …’ She was lying on her back, staring up at an orange sky, inhaling the scent of grass, listening to the sounds of the horses behind them. Ross was so at ease beside her—and she’d never felt more at home with another person.
She looked over to him, to the face that had taken her breath away for so long now, and he was there, staring back and smiling.
A person, Annika reminded herself, who barely knew her—and if he did …
If she closed her eyes, even for a moment, she knew she would remember his kiss, knew where another kiss might lead, right here, where the air was so clear she could breathe, the sky so orange and the grass so cool.
‘I should get back,’ she said again. She didn’t want to, but staying would be far too dangerous.
‘You don’t have to go,’ Ross said.
‘I think I do,’ was her reluctant reply. ‘Ross, it’s too soon.’
‘Annika, you are welcome to stay. I’m not suggesting a weekend of torrid sex.’ Low in her stomach, something curled in on itself. ‘Though of course …’ he grinned ‘… that can be an optional extra …’ And then he laughed, and so too did she. ‘There’s a spare room, and you’re more than welcome to use it. If you want a break, a bit of an escape, here’s the perfect place for it. I can go and stay at the flat if you prefer …’
‘You’d offer me your home?’
‘Actually, yes!’ Ross said, surprised at himself, watching as she turned on her phone again and winced at the latest flood of incoming messages. ‘Hell, I can’t imagine what you have to go home to.’
‘A lot,’ Annika admitted. ‘I have kept my phone off all day.’
‘You can keep it off all weekend if you like.’
Oh, she could breathe—not quite easily, but far more easily than she had all day.
‘I don’t want to stay here alone.’
‘Then be my guest,’ he said.
‘I have a shift at the nursing home tomorrow night.’
‘I’m not kidnapping you—you’re free to come and go,’ Ross replied, and after a moment she nodded.
‘I’d love to stay, but I should let Aleksi know.’
She rang her brother, and Ross listened as she checked if he was okay and reassured him that she was fine.
‘I’m going to have my phone off,’ Annika said. ‘Tell Mum not to worry.’
He busied himself packing up the picnic, but he saw her run a worried hand through her hair.
‘No, don’t—because I’m not there,’ she said. ‘I’m staying with a friend.’ She caught his eye. ‘No, I’d rather not say. Just don’t worry.’
She clicked off her phone and stood. Ross called the horses, and they walked them slowly back.
‘It’s nice,’ Annika said. ‘This …’ She looked over to him. ‘Do your grandparents have horses?’
‘They do.’
And he’d so longed for Spain, longed for his native land, yearned to discover all that had seemed so important, so vital, but right now he had it all here, and the thought of Spain just made him homesick.
Homesick for here.
It was relaxing, settling the horses for the night, then heading back to his house.
‘Have a bath,’ Ross suggested.
‘I have nothing to change into. Maybe I should drive back and pack. I haven’t got anything.’
‘You don’t need anything,’ Ross said. ‘My sisters always leave loads of stuff—they come and stay with the kids some weekends when I’m on call.’ He went upstairs and returned a few moments later with some items of clothing and a large white towelling robe. ‘Here.’ He handed her a toothbrush. ‘Still in its wrapper—you’re lucky I did a shop last week.’
‘Very lucky.’
‘So now you have no excuse but to relax and enjoy.’
He poured her a large glass of wine and told her to take it up to the bath, and then he showed her the spare room, which had a lovely iron bed with white linen.
‘You have good taste.’
‘Spanish linen,’ Ross said, ‘from my grandmother … She’s the one who has good taste.’ On the way to the bathroom he kicked open another door. ‘I, on the other hand, have no taste at all.’
His bedroom was far more untidy than his office, with not a trace of crisp linen in sight. It was brown on black, with boots and jeans and belts, a testosterone-laden den, with an unmade bed and a massive music system.
‘This reminds me of Luke’s room.’
‘You can come in with your bin liner any time,’ Ross said. ‘My door is always open …’ Then he laughed. ‘Unless family’s staying.’
The bathroom was lovely. It had a large freestanding bath that took for ever to fill, a big mirror, and bottles of oils, scents and candles.
His home confused her—parts looked like a rustic country home, other parts, like his bedroom, were modern and full of gadgets. It was like Ross, she thought. He was doctor, farmer, gypsy—an eclectic