Love Affairs. Louise Allen
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frowned. ‘But—that’s only about a mile or so away from the hospital.’
‘I know, but mine is closer, and that’s five minutes in an emergency, and she hasn’t questioned it. And I needed my own space.’
‘And you couldn’t say so.’
He smiled wryly. ‘No. Not directly. Not like that.’
Annie nodded slowly. ‘Families are tricky things. Juggling all the obligations. The guilt.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He looked down at her again as they strolled slowly along the pavement. ‘So where does your mother live?’
‘With me. Or, rather, we live with her. I’ve got two daughters. Twins. Chloe and Grace. They’re nearly three. She took early retirement and moved down to London to help me when I went back to work, and we lived in my rented flat, but then my grandmother needed more support so we moved back up here to Mum’s bungalow when a job came up last summer. I’ve been here nearly a year and it’s been brilliant, but we couldn’t afford a big enough house for all of us so we’re living in Mum’s for now until I’ve cleared my debts from my maternity leave. It’s a bit crowded, though, and sometimes I just long for my own space.’
He nodded. ‘I can understand that. Even if it’s just for a short while every day, it’s important, and I imagine that’s even more true with twins. That’s pretty hard-core parenting, I should imagine, especially in the early days.’ He hesitated for a minute, then went on, ‘And their father?’
‘Not part of our lives,’ she said firmly, and he heard the door slam firmly closed.
That was fine. He had enough no-go areas in his own life to understand she had hers, but it didn’t stop him despising a man who could abandon his own children. Some people didn’t know how lucky they were.
She’d come to a halt, pausing in front of a small detached bungalow in a leafy avenue just around the corner from his rented house.
‘This is me,’ she said, and he opened the garden gate and walked her to the door. The porch light wasn’t on and the area was shaded from the streetlight by a tree, creating an intimate little space.
Too intimate.
Suddenly the air was filled with tension, crackling with electricity, heavy with expectation and suppressed emotion. His? Hers?
Both?
He couldn’t kiss her. It would be crazy. They were colleagues. He’d told his grandmother that. Hell, he’d told Kate that, and he didn’t want to muddy the waters at work.
But he wanted to kiss her.
Despite all his best intentions, despite the serious talking-to he’d given himself the night before, he wanted to kiss her.
And she wanted to kiss him. He could feel it, in the tension coming off her in waves, in the hesitation, the breathless sense of anticipation.
He reached for her, his hands pausing briefly on her shoulders, then common sense intervened and he slipped the jacket off her shoulders and stepped back.
‘Goodnight, Annie. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
For a nano-second she didn’t move, but then he felt the tension snap and she nodded, slipped her key in the lock and vanished inside the door, closing it softly in his face.
He let his breath out on a long, slow sigh, turned on his heel and walked back to the pavement. He hesitated, then turned right instead of left and walked slowly along the quiet streets towards his grandparents’ house, deep in thought.
He hadn’t kissed her. He’d so nearly done it, but then at the last second he’d bottled out.
No. Not bottled out. Come to his senses, in the nick of time.
The wind picked up, the sea breeze teasing his skin with cool fingers. He shrugged into his jacket, and it was still warm from her body, the scent of her perfume lingering on the fabric, and he realised he hadn’t come to his senses at all. He’d just delayed the inevitable.
ANNIE LEANT AGAINST the front door and blew her breath out slowly.
She’d been sure he was going to kiss her, and when he’d moved in like that, reached out for her, she’d known he was going to.
And then he’d lifted the jacket off her shoulders.
She’d forgotten about the jacket. Forgotten about all sorts of things, like the fact that it wasn’t a date and she wasn’t interested in him and she didn’t do this with anyone, especially not a work colleague!
She groaned softly and buried her face in her hands, just as her mother came out of the sitting room.
‘Annie?’
She lifted her head, brushing her hair back off her face, and smiled. ‘Hi. How were the girls?’
‘Fine.’ Her eyes were searching. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, of course. I’m just a bit tired all of a sudden.’
‘It’s not sudden, you’re always tired. You have a hectic job. So, how was it? The play?’
‘Hilarious. Very, very funny. It’s a nice theatre, it’s all been done up. You ought to go.’
‘I might. I haven’t been in there for years. So, did you have ice cream? Someone at book group said it was very good.’
‘It was. Really creamy. I had strawberry. It was lovely.’
And Ed had had chocolate, and she’d asked him what it was like and without a word he’d scooped up a dollop and put it in her mouth.
With his spoon.
She’d felt herself melting faster than the ice cream.
‘Sorry—what?’
‘I said, was it local ice cream?’
Local—? ‘Um—I’m not sure. It could have been. Why?’
‘Oh, the person at book group said something about that. You can buy it in farm shops round here, apparently, if it’s the one she thought. So, did your friend walk you home? I didn’t hear a car stop.’
OK. It hadn’t taken long, and she’d known it was coming, could almost see the antenna twirling slowly in the background. She nearly laughed at her mother’s predictability.
‘No, we walked. He was going this way. He lives near here.’
Which might not be a lie, but since he hadn’t actually told her where he lived, it was hard to know. But she wasn’t telling her mother about borrowing his jacket, or the almost-kiss that wasn’t. Using the word he was more than enough information.
‘Cup of tea?’ she asked, heading for the kitchen, and her mother followed her.
‘That would be nice. So, was this anyone I know of?’
‘The new guy,’ she said, busying herself with the mugs and teapot so she didn’t have to look her mother in the eye. ‘Ed. We were working on the patient together, and they gave us the tickets. It would have been hard to refuse—and, anyway, I never go out. I thought it might be fun. And it was.’
‘Well, it was nice of you to go with him. I expect he’s a bit lonely if he’s new to the area.’
‘Oh, he’s not, he knows it well. His family all live in the area and I think he was brought up here. That’s why he’s here—his grandfather’s not well. He helps his grandmother with him.’
‘Oh, that’s kind of him. He was lucky there was a job available.’
‘I think we were luckier to get him. He’s a great