A Very Special Proposal. Josie Metcalfe
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thought you were settled in the area?’
Amy blinked at the unexpected questions, belatedly realising that she must have spoken her own thoughts aloud.
What could she say? I was just wondering whether I had any more chance of attracting you now than I did as a teenager?
‘I am settled, I think. I’m close enough to my parents so that visiting them doesn’t have to be a major time-consuming trek, yet far enough away so I can call my life my own…’…More or less, she added silently, hoping she hadn’t grimaced at the thought of the way the two of them still tried to organise her life for her.
Which reminded her, she thought with a barely stifled groan.
There had been a message on her phone earlier, reminding her that she was supposed to be attending some ‘do’ this evening. She certainly couldn’t remember what it was about—with her father a stalwart member of so many prestigious committees and boards of governors, there was usually something at which it was ‘imperative’ she show her face.
She also had a sneaking suspicion that, now that a year had passed since she’d been widowed, her mother was trying to be surreptitious about using the events to introduce her to a selection of ‘suitable’ men from whom she would be expected to choose another husband.
Not that her parents could ever find fault with her first choice, as they told her ad nauseam, but if she was ever to provide them with the grandchild they needed if they were to pass on their inheritance…
For just a second she toyed with the idea of inviting Zach to go as her partner, but it was definitely a less shocking idea than it would have been when he’d sported his unruly hair and an attitude to match. He might still ride a motorbike, but as a fully qualified doctor, the rebel was now well and truly part of the establishment.
Anyway, if she did ever get up the courage to invite Zach to go out with her—or vice versa—the very last place she’d want to go to fulfil her fantasy would be anywhere under her parents’ eagle eyes.
She glanced up at the clock, hoping for a moment that the current workload would give her the excuse to phone and cancel, but no such luck.
‘Clock-watching?’ Zach asked while she was still trying to work out some way of avoiding an evening of tedium. ‘Got a hot date this evening?’
‘Hardly!’ She laughed. ‘Just a command performance at some semi-formal function—some committee or other—and the very last thing I want to do after a shift like this. I can’t imagine anything worse than being herded into a room full of people spouting inanities, plied with white wine so acid that you could use it to clean drains and offered very pretty-looking “nibbles” that are totally tasteless unless they’ve been overloaded with salt and artificial flavourings when I’d far rather have a hearty plate of spaghetti Bolognese or carbonara.’
Zach chuckled. ‘I remember that about you—the way you could always put away about twice the calories of any other woman and still stay so slim. And you had the best brain in the class. No wonder the other girls were jealous of you.’
Simultaneously embarrassed by the praise and delighted that he’d noticed anything personal about her, she forgot to keep a tight rein on her tongue.
‘If they were jealous of me it was because I had the sexiest boy in the class as my lab partner,’ she countered, then groaned in humiliation, mortified that she couldn’t remember what she’d last touched with her gloved hands and so couldn’t even cover her red face. Furious with herself for putting her foot in her own mouth, she stripped the gloves off and flung them into the bin then made a performance about donning a clean pair.
‘The sexiest boy in the class?’ he repeated with a dawning grin. ‘Really? If only I’d known!’
‘You must have known!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s why you always grew your hair so long, wore the leather jacket and rode the motorbike…a motorbike, by the way, that everyone in the class, male or female, wanted an invitation to ride.’
‘Ready for your next one?’ prompted Liz in the doorway behind them while Amy was still desperately wanting to call back her words. If only there was a way of turning the clock back just one minute. ‘We’re down to the last few who were delayed by the influx from the motorway.’
‘Wheel them in,’ Zach invited in a resigned tone that completely disappeared as soon as Liz’s head did from the doorway. Then he took several long strides to bring him close enough that their shoulders touched as he leant against the wall beside her, his broad muscular one against her more slender one.
Below the short sleeves of their faded green scrubs his firm flesh was hot and darkly tanned against her cooler, paler skin, but she shivered at the intimacy of the contact, overwhelmingly aware that he was doing it deliberately.
‘One day,’ he murmured for her ears alone, ‘I might tell you why I really dressed that way.’
ZACH leant back into the corner of the wooden bench, swung his feet up onto the other end of the seat and sighed with relief.
It felt as if it had been days since he’d last had time to sit down and it wasn’t just his feet doing the complaining.
He took a cautious sip of the outsized mug of coffee, then a deeper draught when he found it had cooled enough on his journey out to this little courtyard area hidden in an angle of the building housing the A and E department.
His view of the night sky was disappointing. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but many of the stars would always remain invisible because there were so many streetlights around.
It hadn’t been like that at the refugee camp. There, when night had fallen, the only light to break the complete darkness had been the occasional flickering of firelight or the generator-powered lights in the operating theatre. There, the sky had been full of billions of points of starlight, all so clear and bright that it had seemed as if he could almost reach out and grab a handful of them.
Fanciful nonsense, of course, just like his dream last night that Amy was riding on the back of his motorbike, her arms wrapped around his waist and her body pressed tightly against him as they sped through the night together.
Had his subconscious somehow known that she was about to reappear in his life? Had it been warning him, or was it that age-old wishful thinking? If he’d known that the elegant woman bending over the elderly hit-and-run victim had been his ABC he might have managed to introduce himself in an adult manner. As it was, he’d had a hard time trying not to swallow his tongue as all those old feelings had flooded over him in a maelstrom.
‘Ha!’ he snorted into the darkness. ‘Even my dreams are stuck in an adolescent time warp. You’d think I’d manage to come up with something new in the last fifteen years!’
It wasn’t as if he’d received any encouragement from her, then or now. She would always be the princess to his pauper, something that was obvious even when they were both wearing unisex scrub suits. She would never look anything less than cool and elegant while he…
He glanced down at the crumpled state of the shapeless garb and chuckled at the thought of covering the top half, at least, under his leather jacket. That was the way he’d coped at school, camouflaging the fact that although they were perfectly clean, his clothes were disintegrating with age because there was so little money to replace them.
Anyway, it wasn’t as though smart clothing would have made any difference at school. According to his teachers, he had been thick and stupid and on the fast track to oblivion. Amy had been the only one who’d spoken to him as if he’d had more than two brain cells between his ears. She’d been the one who’d made him think that, perhaps, there might be another road to travel than the one to perdition, that, maybe, she would be interested in him if he were to ask.
He’d soon found out that the princess’s interest