By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
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took two long strides from the left as the lift doors began to close. Stabbed the button. He’d seen Emily get in there. The doors reopened and he stepped inside.
Her eyes widened and she stepped away from him back into the corner. This woman who had left his bed that morning. As if afraid of him?
A slice of pain he didn’t expect. Did she feel she needed to do that? Peripherally he was aware there was another woman in the elevator so he leant against the side wall and nodded. It was the woman with Finn yesterday in the cafeteria.
The other woman smiled at him. ‘We were just talking about you.’ Vaguely he realised she was pretty but he only had eyes for Emily.
Then her words sank in. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. Gossip? He felt the air still in his lungs. Memories from his childhood as always the people whispered behind his back as he walked. Trust issues reared their ugly head. His father’s words, ‘Never trust anyone.’ So already she was boasting. He had not expected that.
She held out her hand. ‘I’m Evie Lockheart. So you operated on Annie yesterday.’
Ah. ‘Si.’ They shook hands. ‘Dr Lockheart. You must thank Finn for me. Last night we dined on the brig.’ Then Evie’s last words penetrated the haze of hurt. She’d only said he’d operated on her daughter.
Evie’s face lit up. ‘The three-master? Lovely. And the weather was great last night. Who’d you go with?’
Emily’s face was pink and already he felt guilt for his thoughts—let alone the indiscretion he had started in retaliation. ‘A friend.’
The lift stopped and the doors opened. Evie turned to Emily, saw her red face and frowned, but Marco had his hand across the doors, waiting for her to exit. ‘Is this you?’
She turned to look at him. Glanced at Emily again and stepped out. ‘Thanks. See you later, Emily.’
‘Bye, Evie.’ Emily didn’t step away from the corner as the lift doors closed.
Evie Lockheart watched the lift doors shut. Frowned. Stared at the doors a minute longer and then smiled. There just might be something going on there.
Nice if someone had a normal relationship. Emily deserved it. She turned and headed down to Finn’s office. She hoped to hell he’d calmed down since yesterday.
Sometimes she felt as if she was just another conquest to him and at others she thought she glimpsed their unwilling connection. But, damn it, she cared.
He’d point blank refused to talk to her about his problem. Like the future of his career wasn’t worrying him. She only wanted to help.
She’d been shocked by the depth of emotional turmoil she’d seen in his eyes. Finn the invincible looking just for a moment anything but invincible and it had stayed with her. Of course it had stayed with her. She’d barely slept. But then again she hadn’t slept well since the day she’d gone to his flat and discovered a side to herself she hadn’t realised existed. A wanton, wild and womanly side she’d only shown to Finn.
A side that he had mocked—and here she was, back for more.
But today wasn’t about that—or even them as a couple, if that was what they were. It was to talk about the possibility of a cure. Again.
Yesterday’s discussion hadn’t worked. From the little he had let drop, the experimental surgery—despite the huge risk—offered a chance Finn could continue the work he lived for and take away the pain he tried to hide. If it was a success.
Even odds. Fifty per cent he might be able to operate or fifty per cent he might never operate again.
All this was constantly going over in her mind and how she could broach the subject when he obviously wanted no interference from her, and it was driving her bonkers. Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave it alone.
Wouldn’t leave Finn to go through this alone. She had to believe they had a connection and he was the one pretending they didn’t.
She paused outside his office door and drew a deep breath. ‘Gird your loins, girl,’ she mocked herself. She knocked.
No answer. So she knocked again. ‘Finn?’
Silence. She pushed open the door and the room was empty. Damn. She circled the empty room, frustration keeping her moving as she realised she’d have to psych herself up all over again. Then her gaze fell on his desk.
The research papers he’d mentioned. Explanations of the experimental surgery. So he had considered it, despite his horror of the risks. She could understand that, see his abhorrence of life without his work, but he had to do it. You couldn’t live with increasing pain for ever. The time was past when he could do nothing.
‘What are you doing here?’ Finn stood tall and menacing in the doorway with blue ice shooting from his arctic eyes.
I’m not scared, she told herself, but she swallowed.
Guess he was still seething from yesterday, then. ‘Waiting for you.’
‘Why are you rifling my desk?’
She raised her eyebrows, outwardly calm. ‘Hardly rifling when it was all open for me to see.’
He stepped into the room and the space around her shrank to a quarter of the size. Funny what the aura of some people could do. ‘Not for you to see.’
Evie stood her ground. ‘Afraid I might suggest you consider it again?’ She paused. ‘So at least you’ve read it?’
He ignored that. ‘I’ve read it. And I don’t want to talk about it.’
She stepped around the desk until she was standing beside him. This man who infuriated and inspired and drove her insane with frustration and, she had to admit, a growing love and need to see him happy.
‘It’s a choice, Finn. One you’re going to have to consider.’
His voice grated harshly. His face was set like stone. ‘Now you want to look after me? One episode of good sex is all it took?’
She ignored that. Ignored the splinter of pain that festered inside from his contempt. Banished the pictures of him showing her the door afterwards.
‘Hippocratic oath,’ he mocked. ‘Save your patient.’
‘You’re not my patient.’ She met his eyes. Chin up. ‘Just think about it.’
His eyes narrowed further. ‘Why should you care?’
‘Because I do.’ She touched his arm and the muscles were bunched and taut beneath her fingers. ‘Is that so hard to believe?’
He shook her off. ‘I look after myself. Had to all my life and it’s never going to change.’
She took his hand and held it firmly. Looked into his face. ‘Tell me.’
He looked down but this time he didn’t pull away. ‘Tell you what?’
She shook his arm. ‘Finn. For God’s sake, let me in.’ Finally he seemed to get it. A glimmer of understanding of what she wanted to know. Why she wanted to know.
‘What?’ A scornful laugh not directed at her for a change. ‘The whole sob story?’
Evie didn’t move. ‘Yes. Please.’
He sighed. Her hand fell away as he turned and stared out over the harbour and when he started his voice was flat, emotionless, daring her to be interested in his boring tale. ‘Why would you want this? You probably know most of it. Orphan. Unstable foster-homes. The army was my best parenting experience and they don’t do affection or connection.’
A sardonic laugh that grated on her ears. ‘Maybe that’s why I fitted so well.’
She wanted to hug him. ‘You did connection okay the other night.’
She