The Surgeon's Love-Child. Lilian DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.
would have considered sleazy. He conceded that there was probably some truth to Matt’s observation about women with a use-by date as well, although he didn’t like the way his brother had worded it.
Candace Fletcher was only here for a year, and he was fully aware of the fact.
So perhaps this is flirting, he decided. We’re laughing. Teasing each other a little. Only it’s even lighter than usual, so I’m calling it something else.
Why?
Because I don’t want to scare her off.
There was something in her eyes, something in the way she held that full, sensitive mouth. Coupled with the fact of her divorce, he was pretty certain that she would want a man to take things carefully, no matter how sudden and strong the spark was between them, no matter that she was leaving after a year.
Perhaps the spark was a little deceptive, too. They might both feel it, but that didn’t mean acting on it would be a good idea. Some instinct told him to tread carefully, and to think before he acted in this case.
I didn’t think twice with Agnetha, and neither did she…
The thought flashed through his mind and disappeared again.
They spent an hour on the quiet roads of Narralee’s newest housing development before Candace announced that she was ready for downtown.
‘Yes, I know you don’t call it that,’ she added.
‘Just town will do.’
‘Tell me how to get there.’
She parked without difficulty in the car park behind the bank and opened her account, then he showed her the supermarket nearest to Taylor’s Beach and they tooled down the aisles with a big metal shopping trolley, which she filled to the brim.
Always an instructive experience, shopping with a woman for the first time. What secret vices did she display in the confectionery aisle? Did she actually cook, or merely reheat in the microwave? Agnetha had lived on rabbit food, Steve considered. Celery and nuts and carrots. Horse food, too. Various flaky things that looked and tasted like chaff.
Candace’s diet held more promise and less obsessiveness. She smelled a rock melon—‘canteloupe’ she called it—with her eyes closed and a heaven-sent expression on her face. Then she put two of them in the trolley, right on top of the frozen chocolate cheesecake. She selected some delicate lamb cutlets and a medallion of pork, and they ended up lying next to the five-pack of lurid yellow chicken-flavoured two-minute noodle soups. She apparently drank hot chocolate, tea, three kinds of juice and four kinds of coffee.
He thought he’d been reasonably subtle in his analysis of her purchases, but he was wrong. When they stood waiting at the checkout, she tilted her head to one side and demanded, ‘So, Doctor, how many points did I lose? About fifty for the cheesecake and the cookies, obviously, but I believe I do have all the food groups represented in reasonable proportion.’
‘I wasn’t—’
‘You were, too! Silently analysing everything that went in the cart. Comparing me to—well, to whoever.’
Agnetha. He almost said it, but managed to stop himself. Felt colour rising into his neck and thought in disbelief, My God, I’m blushing!
‘I thought so!’ said Candace under her breath.
It was a type of audition. She teetered on the edge of resenting it. He had no right to judge and draw conclusions like that!
Then, with more honesty and less bluster, she decided that she was doing exactly the same thing herself. Auditioning him for this imaginary, unlikely affair she couldn’t get out of her head.
So far, he seemed like exactly the right candidate for such a thing, if she was going to consider the question in such cold-blooded terms. He would be easygoing, physical, fun to be with. He’d also possess certain shared understandings that didn’t need talking about, because they worked in the same profession.
Yes, quite definitely an ideal candidate for an affair.
Is this what Mom was thinking about when she told me to go away? That I’d meet someone and have a crazy fling, get my socks sizzled off and come home as revitalised as if I’d been to a health spa for three months? That I’d be over Todd and Brittany? Dear God, over it. That it wouldn’t hurt any more, and twist me up inside with bitterness and resentment and regret…?
The idea was both terrifying and dangerously alluring.
With her breathing shallower than usual, she asked, ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need to do today? This is taking a long time.’
‘My schedule’s clear, so don’t worry about it. Shall we take this lot home to your place and unpack it, then grab some lunch before we do the car?’
‘Sandwiches? We have the makings for them now.’
‘Yep. Great.’
They got to the first car dealership at two, after a lunch so quick and casual Candace might have been sharing it with Maddy. The salesman then spent half an hour addressing himself exclusively to Steve, even when it ought to have been quite clear to him that Candace was the prospective buyer.
‘Do you think he realises why he didn’t make a sale?’ Steve asked her when they left.
She laughed. ‘I handled it. In fact, it was useful. He talked to you while I had an uninterrupted chance to think about whether I really wanted the car.’
‘I take it you didn’t?’
She waggled her hand from side to side. ‘Probably not. Let’s keep looking.’
At the second and third dealerships, she test-drove two vehicles and finally decided on a compact European model, with very low mileage on the odometer. She felt exhilarated and slightly queasy at having parted with so much money so quickly. Still, it didn’t make sense to delay. She was only here for a year. She needed to get organised, get her life sorted out, hit the ground running.
Did this apply to arranging a quick, therapeutic fling as well?
‘Now you just have to drive it home,’ Steve said, reminding her that in all spheres of life, actions had consequences.
‘I don’t know the way,’ she answered.
‘Which is why you’ll follow me.’
By the time they reached home, it was late afternoon. Steve suggested an evening meal at a local Chinese restaurant, and that sounded fine.
Sounded fine.
In reality, it was harder. When someone was seated a yard away and facing in your direction, it wasn’t as easy to avoid eye contact as it had been during driving lessons and grocery shopping. Candace drank a glass of red wine and regretted it. Jet-lag swamped her again, and the lighting in the restaurant was warm, inviting and intimate. She felt woozy, smily, relaxed and far too conscious of him.
When their eyes did meet, it was like tugging on a cord. She was a marionette and he was controlling the strings. He was making her nod and smile and listen with her chin cushioned in her palm and her elbow resting on the table.
‘Hey, are you falling asleep?’
‘No…’
‘You will be soon. I’d better take you home.’
‘You’re making my decisions for me,’ she retorted.
‘Only tonight,’ he said softly. ‘Promise you, the rest of the decisions will be all yours.’
Perhaps he hadn’t meant it to sound like such an intimate threat, but Candace panicked anyway. Her sleepiness vanished and she pulled herself to her feet, grating the legs of the chair on the restaurant’s scratchy carpeting.
‘Damn right they will!’ she said, and saw his startled expression.
‘Candace,