pizzas arrived, diverting everyone’s attention. Jodie had eaten three mouthfuls before she realised that Sam was staring at her. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘I can’t believe you’re actually eating that.’ He made a face.
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’ Jodie cut another piece, making sure there was a slice of avocado on it, and speared it with her fork. ‘Here,’ she said, reaching over towards him.
Again, there was that silvery glint in his eyes and he bent his head to taste the pizza, his gaze locking with hers. Jodie’s mouth went dry again. She hadn’t eaten since a snatched half a sandwich for lunch, so the wine must have gone to her head. What was she doing, feeding him from her fork? And what must he think of her?
Embarrassed, she almost snatched her hand back.
‘Better than I expected,’ he said.
She could feel her face burning. Was he referring just to the pizza, or to her, or to the evening? And, come to think of it, why was he here? True, she’d pretty much steamrollered him into it on the ward—but he could have just not turned up and made an excuse the next morning.
Jodie decided to take refuge in her pizza. Maybe when she had some good, solid carbohydrates inside her, she might start thinking more clearly.
‘What made you decide on paediatrics?’ Sam asked, startling her into looking up at him.
‘I like children,’ she said simply.
‘But you’re not married, not planning any of your own?’
Jodie’s eyes narrowed. Why was he asking? So he could decide not to recommend her for promotion, since she didn’t have any real commitment to her job—she was going to give up work to have kids and waste all her years of training?
No, of course not. He wasn’t one of the old school, the sort who couldn’t help discriminating against young female doctors. He treated everyone on the ward alike—polite and distant. He was just trying to make conversation. It wasn’t his fault he’d touched on her sore point. Three months ago, her ex-boyfriend Graham had told her she spent too much time on her career and he wanted to start a family almost as soon as they were married. Not that he’d actually asked her; he’d just assumed she’d fall in with his plans. When he’d realised she wasn’t prepared to give up her job, he’d walked out on her.
‘No, I’m not married, and I’m not planning a houseful of kids,’ she said tightly, still seething inwardly at the memory of Graham’s parting shot that she’d be a lousy wife anyway—she couldn’t even cook! ‘Not all women want children, you know.’
‘Don’t they?’ asked Sam, his face completely unreadable.
‘No. I’m an honorary auntie—well, godmother to my best friend Ellen’s little boy, Billy—and that suits me fine.’ Actually, that was a bit of a fib. She did want children, just not yet. Not until she’d figured out how to raise a family without throwing away all those years of studying and working silly hours. And then there was the small matter of finding a suitable father…
That rainy Wednesday morning look was back in his eyes again. Children were obviously a sore point with him, too, Jodie thought. Not that it was any of her business.
Time to change the subject. ‘Why did you decide on paediatrics?’ she asked.
‘I…’ He wasn’t going to tell her the whole truth. ‘I did a stint in Paediatrics after I qualified. I went to Cardiology after that, then Oncology—but I found that I liked working with children best.’ Even though it was like rubbing salt in the wound.
‘Cardiology.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I nearly did that, too. Because of Sadie.’
‘Sadie?’
‘My younger sister.’ Her green eyes were suddenly sombre. ‘She had a hole in the heart. There wasn’t anything they could do at the time. She died when she was two weeks old.’
‘Was she much younger than you?’ he asked gently.
Jodie shook her head. ‘I was nearly three at the time. My brother, Matt, was seven, so he remembers more about it than I do. Anyway, when I decided to become a doctor, he was the one who said I should give myself time to find out what I was really interested in, not rush straight into heart surgery or neonatal so I could save future Sadies. We had a huge row over it, but I have to admit he was right.’ She smiled wryly. ‘He rang me tonight, actually. He’s getting engaged—at last. He and Annie have known each other since junior school but they only realised their feelings for each other a month or so back. Now they’ve decided they’ve wasted too much time already, so the engagement party’s this weekend.’
‘And you’re on duty?’ Sam guessed.
She nodded.
He tipped his head on one side. ‘Can’t you swap shifts with one of the others?’
‘Not when we’re almost skeleton staff.’ She shrugged. ‘Ah, well. Matt and Annie’ll come up for the weekend some time soon and we’ll have a party of our own. Just the three of us.’
So the boyfriend was definitely off the scene, Sam thought. Though he wasn’t sure if she was upset about it or not. Jodie had seemed touchy when he’d mentioned children—maybe the boyfriend hadn’t wanted them and she had.
But he couldn’t get involved with her. One, she was a colleague; two, she was probably on the rebound; and, three, maybe she’d sort out her differences with her ex and they’d get back together.
But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even when they were both talking to other people, and she’d shifted places to drink her coffee at the other end of the table and chat to Fiona Ferguson, he was aware of her. Aware of every move she made—the way her blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders, the way her bright purple silk shirt highlighted the intense green of her eyes. Aware of the curve of her mouth. His body tightened and he suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss her. To tangle his fingers in that silky soft hair, to feel her mouth soften and open under his own, her hands against his bare skin…
He took a deep breath. Hell. What was it about Jodie Price that got under his skin? He’d always been so scrupulous about keeping work and his private life separate.
Not that he had a private life. Just himself and the cat who’d adopted him when he’d moved to Norfolk. Not the children he’d once expected to have by this age. Not a little boy climbing everything in sight and wanting to help Daddy make a tree-house and listen to his heart with Daddy’s stethoscope and go to the park together to sail a model yacht on the boating lake. Not a baby girl just starting to walk, tottering on unsteady legs towards her father with a beaming face and chubby outstretched hands when he walked in the door, greeting him with a loud ‘Da-da,’ and a stream of delighted babbling.
He locked his hands together under the table, squeezing his fingers hard until the physical pain took his mind off his mental torture. Half the conversation tonight had been about children—particular cases on the ward who’d touched everyone’s heart—or handing round the latest family snaps to be admired. It was why he always avoided social events at work, so he didn’t have to smile and smile and pretend the yawning gap in his own life didn’t exist. The yawning gap that even dedicating himself one hundred per cent to his job
