From Fling to Forever. Avril Tremayne
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laughed. ‘I’m not sure the British see it that way.’
Okay—so now what? Ella wondered.
If he thought she was going to be charmed by him, he had another think coming. She wasn’t going to be charmed. And she was not in the market for a pick-up tonight. Not that he wasn’t attractive in a rough sort of way—the surferblond hair, golden tan and bursting muscles that looked completely out of place in a suit was a sexy combination. But she’d crossed the pick-up off her to-do list last night—and that had been a debacle, as usual. And even if she hadn’t crossed it off the list, and it hadn’t been a debacle, her sister’s wedding was not the place for another attempt. Nowhere within a thousand miles of any of her relatives was the place.
‘Do you mind if I sit and talk to you for a few minutes?’ he asked, and smiled at her.
Yes, I do. ‘Of course you can sit,’ she said. Infinitesimal pause. ‘And talk to me.’
‘Great.’ He pulled out a chair and sat. ‘I think Brand warned you I wanted to pick your brains tonight.’
She frowned slightly. ‘Brand?’
He smiled again. ‘Um … your brother-in-law?’
‘No-o-o, I don’t think so.’ Ella glanced over at Brand, who was carefully twirling her sister. ‘I think he’s had a few things on his mind. Marriage. Baby. Imminent move to London. New movie to make.’
Another smile. ‘Right, let’s start again and I’ll introduce myself properly.’
Ella had to give the guy points for determination. Because he had to realise by now that if she really wanted to talk to him, she would have already tried to get his name out of him.
‘I’m Aaron James,’ he said.
Ella went blank for a moment, before the vague memory surfaced. ‘Oh. Of course. The actor. Tina emailed me about a … a film?’ She frowned slightly. ‘Sorry, I remember now. About malaria.’
‘Yes. A documentary. About the global struggle to eradicate the disease. Something I am very passionate about, because my son … Well, too much information, I guess. Not that documentaries are my usual line of work.’ Smile, but looking a little frayed. ‘Maybe you’ve heard of a television show called Triage? It’s a medical drama. I’m in that.’
‘So …’ She frowned again. ‘Is it the documentary or the TV show you want to talk to me about? If it’s the TV show, I don’t think I can help you—my experience in city hospital emergency rooms is limited. And I’m a nurse—you don’t look like you’d be playing a nurse. You’re playing a doctor, right?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’m flying home tomorrow, but I know a few doctors here in Sydney and I’m sure they’d be happy to talk to you.’
‘No, that’s not—’
‘The numbers are in my phone,’ Ella said, reaching for her purse. ‘Do you have a pen? Or can you—?’
Aaron reached out and put his hand over hers on the tiny bronze purse. ‘Ella.’
Her fingers flexed, once, before she could stop them.
‘It’s not about the show,’ he said, releasing her hand. ‘It’s the documentary. We’re looking at treatments, mosquito control measures, drug resistance, and what’s being done to develop a vaccine. We’ll be shooting in Cambodia primarily—in some of the hospitals where I believe you’ve worked. We’re not starting for a month, but I thought I should take the chance to talk to you while you’re in Sydney. I’d love to get your impression of the place.’
She said nothing. Noted that he was starting to look impatient—and annoyed.
‘Brand told me you worked for Frontline Medical Aid,’ he prompted.
She controlled the hitch in her breath. ‘Yes, I’ve worked for them, and other medical aid agencies, in various countries, including Cambodia. But I’m not working with any agency at the moment. And I’ll be based in Los Angeles for the next year or so.’
‘And what’s it like? I mean, not Los Angeles—I know what—Um. I mean, the aid work.’
Ella shifted in her seat. He was just not getting it. ‘It has its highs and lows. Like any job.’
He was trying that charming smile again. ‘Stupid question?’
‘Look, it’s just a job,’ she said shortly. ‘I do what every nurse does. Look after people when they’re sick or hurt. Try to educate them about health. That’s all there is to it.’
‘Come on—you’re doing a little more than that. The conditions. The diseases that we just don’t see here. The refugee camps. The landmines. Kidnappings, even.’
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Bang-bang-bang. She looked down at her hands, saw the whitened knuckles and dropped them to her lap, out of Aaron’s sight. She struggled for a moment, getting herself under control. Then forced herself to look straight back up and right at him.
‘Yes, the conditions are not what most medical personnel are used to,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve seen the damage landmines can do. Had children with AIDS, with malnutrition, die in my arms. There have been kidnappings involving my colleagues, murders even. This is rare, but …’ She stopped, raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that the sort of detail you’re looking for?’ She forced herself to keep looking directly into his eyes. ‘But I imagine you’ll be insulated from the worst of it. They won’t let anything happen to you.’
‘I’m not worried about that,’ Aaron said, with a quick shake of his head. Then, suddenly, he relaxed back in his chair. ‘And you don’t want to talk about it.’
Eureka! ‘It’s fine, really,’ she said, but her voice dripped with insincerity.
The little boy Ella had seen earlier exploded onto the scene, throwing himself against Aaron’s leg, before the conversation could proceed.
‘Dad, look what Tina gave me.’
Dad. So, did he have an Asian wife? Or was the little boy adopted?
Aaron bent close to smell the small rose being offered to him.
‘It’s from her bunch of flowers,’ the little boy said, blinking adorably.
‘Beautiful.’ Aaron turned laughing eyes to Ella. ‘Ella, let me introduce my son, Kiri. Kiri, this is Tina’s sister, Ella.’
Kiri. He was Cambodian, then. And he’d had malaria—that was Aaron’s TMI moment. ‘Nice to meet you Kiri,’ Ella said, with a broad smile, then picked up her purse. ‘Speaking of Tina and flowers, it must be time to throw the bouquet. I’d better go.’
She got to her feet. ‘Goodbye Aaron. Good luck with the documentary. Goodbye Kiri.’
Well, that had been uncomfortable, Ella thought as she left the table, forcing herself to walk slowly. Calm, controlled, measured—the way she’d trained herself to walk in moments of stress.
Clearly, she had to start reading her sister’s emails more carefully. She recalled, too late, that Tina’s email had said Aaron was divorced; that he had an adopted son—although not that the boy was Cambodian, because that she would have remembered. She’d made a reference to the documentary. And there probably had been a mention of talking to him as a favour to Brand, although she really couldn’t swear to it.
She just hadn’t put all the pieces together and equated them with the wedding, or she would have been better prepared for the confrontation.
Confrontation. Since when did a few innocent questions constitute a confrontation?
Ella couldn’t stop a little squirm of shame. Aaron wasn’t to know that the exact thing he wanted to talk about was the