Celebrity In Braxton Falls. Judy Campbell
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dark hair spread across the pillow, long eyelashes sweeping over her high cheekbones. Those delicate looks belied the toughness she’d shown tonight in the raging storm, he reflected.
He grinned, forgetting for a moment how tired he was. It was hard to believe that a few minutes ago he’d held this beautiful woman in his arms, felt her soft body pressed to his—and very nice it had been, too! And hadn’t it reminded him very forcibly that despite the so-called glamorous social whirl he was supposed to enjoy, he’d led a pretty monastic life over the past few years despite his years in the limelight and being featured with nearly every glamorous young woman in London? Since Archie’s mother had left he was wary of being linked to any one woman. And anyway, he had to be very choosy—whoever he took up with had to be very, very special, someone who would cherish his little boy as much as he did. And, he thought sadly, show more affection for Archie than his own mother ever had.
He supposed that someone like Kerry would have a boyfriend. Obviously she wasn’t married, but she was an attractive and successful woman. Fleetingly he wondered how she could work with a bastard like his brother—but he guessed that Kerry was pretty feisty and she wouldn’t suffer fools gladly. Or perhaps it was more likely, Denovan thought cynically, that his brother had hidden his true character from her. After all, that was Frank’s stock in trade—pretending to be something he wasn’t.
Gently he placed the duvet over her and turned to go out of the room, nearly falling over a large suitcase with a folded dress draped on top of it by the door. He bent down to look at the labels and raised his eyebrows. It looked like Kerry was, or had been, going on holiday—Frank’s stupid accident had obviously meant that she’d had to forfeit that. No wonder she’d been a bit tetchy with him. Her plans had been ruined and instead of a fairy-tale holiday she was back at work for a long stint if Frank’s injuries were as serious as they thought they were.
He went down to the little kitchen and stretched before flopping down in a chair, his elbows on the table, and closed his eyes for a second. Although he felt exhausted, he had decisions to make before he returned to London. His contract with the television company was ending, but the company wanted him to front another programme about the general health of the population, and he was wondering whether he really wanted to take on more work. Wondering, in fact, if he actually wanted to do any more television work at all.
On the face of it, his life had all seemed so glamorous and exciting, working in a place with a buzz to it, mingling with the good and the great, knowing that he had a certain cachet amongst his colleagues. But the truth was he was bored with answering people’s queries and giving his opinion on hypothetical questions—and the boredom was beginning to show. He was easily irritated, becoming autocratic if someone didn’t agree with him, used to having his own way.
Tonight had made him realise that he was becoming further and further removed from the practical care of the patients he’d loved treating. He’d just been thrown into a situation a few hours ago where he’d used the skills he’d been taught at medical school and as a result he felt alive, stimulated, his body humming with the unaccustomed rush of adrenaline. It had been so rewarding to help in Sirie’s rescue, working in a team and establishing a relationship with the victim, persuading her to put her trust in himself and Kerry. It had been worthwhile—and how long had it been since he’d felt like that at the end of a day’s work? A few years ago he’d have given anything to achieve what he had done in the media world, but suddenly it was beginning to seem a very hollow world.
He rose restlessly from his chair, went to the back door and opened it. The wind had died down and it had stopped raining, and there was a sweet country-fresh smell from the fields. He took a deep gulp of the crisp air into his lungs; he’d forgotten how much he’d loved Braxton Falls, the little valleys and the rolling hills. It had been the best part of his childhood, growing up in the countryside. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it since he’d left six years ago after falling out so spectacularly with Frank. His father had wanted them both to take over the practice when he retired—but Denovan had known that working with his half-brother was an impossibility. After what had happened, they could never live near each other again, and so he’d ended up in London and his life had taken a very different direction from anything he’d imagined.
He closed the door and turned back abruptly into the room. He would have to go and collect Archie from Daphne’s house, and then tomorrow start thinking seriously about his future, because it wasn’t just his future that was affected but his dear little son’s—and he was the most important thing of all.
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