monkeys.’ Grace grinned. ‘But...where are your tails?’
The twins gave her a very patient look.
Charles gave her a shadow of a wink. ‘Curious George doesn’t have a tail,’ he explained.
‘Oh...’
‘Trick or treat!’ Cameron shouted. He bounced up and down on small padded feet. ‘We want candy...’
‘Please,’ Charles admonished. ‘Where are your manners, buddy?’
‘Please!’ It was Max who was first to comply.
‘Grace might not have any candy. Maybe we could just say “hi” to Horse?’
‘Actually, I do have some candy.’ Grace smiled at Charles. ‘I have a personal weakness for M&M’S. Would they be suitable?’
‘A very small packet?’ Charles was smiling back at her but looking slightly haunted. ‘We already have enough candy to last till Christmas.’
‘They’re tiny boxes.’ Grace pulled her keys from her bag. ‘Come on in. Horse will be so happy to see you.’
Charles had probably been in this apartment before, visiting Stefan and Jerome, but he hadn’t come in since Grace had taken over and it felt like a huge step forward somehow. The huge, modern spaces had felt rather empty and totally not her style, although she was slowly getting used to them. With two small boys rolling around on the floor with Houston and Charles following her into the kitchen, it suddenly felt far more like a home.
‘Let me open the French doors so that Houston can get out into the garden. It’s been an hour or two since Kylie took him out for his last walk.’ Grace headed for the pantry next, where she knew the big bag still had plenty of the small boxes of candy-covered chocolate she kept for an after-dinner treat.
She had a bottle of wine in the fridge, too. Would it be a step too far to offer one to Charles? She wanted to ask how the day had gone because she knew that she would be able to see past any cheerful accounts and know how hard it had really been. But she could see that anyway. Charles was looking tired and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
And she wasn’t about to get the chance to say anything, because his phone was ringing. He took the call, keeping an eye on the children, who were now racing around the garden with the dog, as he listened and then started firing questions.
‘Who’s there? How long ago did you activate Code Red?’
Grace caught her breath. ‘Code Red’ was a term used in Manhattan Mercy’s ER to indicate that the level of patient numbers was exceeding the resources the department had to deal with them. Like a traffic light that was not functioning correctly, a traffic jam could ensue and, with patients, it meant that urgent treatment could be delayed and fatalities could result.
He listened a moment longer. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘I can go back,’ Grace offered as he ended the call. She could get there in less than ten minutes and she was still in her scrubs—she wouldn’t even need to get changed.
But Charles shook his head. ‘It’s the administrative side that needs management. I’ll have to go in.’ He looked out at the garden. ‘I can take the boys.’
This time, it was Grace who shook her head. ‘Don’t be daft. I’ll look after them.’
Charles looked stunned by the offer. ‘But...’
‘But, nothing. I’ll take them back up to your apartment. That way I can feed them. Or get them to bed if you end up being late. Is it okay if I take Houston up, too?’
‘Of course...but...are you sure, Grace? They’re going to get tired and cranky after the day they’ve had.’
Grace held his gaze. ‘Go,’ she said quietly. ‘And don’t worry about them. They’ll be safe.’
For a heartbeat, she saw the shadows on his face lift as his smile very definitely reached his eyes.
‘Thank you,’ was all Charles said but it felt like she was the one who was being given something very special.
Trust?
IF IT HADN’T been for her small entourage of two little boys and one large, fluffy dog, Grace might have felt like she was doing something wrong, stepping into Charles Davenport’s private life like this.
How weird was it that just a few hours of one’s lifetime, over a decade ago, could have had such an impact that it could make her feel like...like some kind of stalker?
It was her own fault. She had allowed herself to remember those hours. Enshrine them, almost, so that they had become a comfort zone that she had relied on, especially in the early days of coming to terms with what had felt like a broken and very lonely life. In those sleepless hours when things always seemed so much worse, she had imagined herself back in Charles’s arms. Being held as though she was something precious.
Being made love to, as if she was the only woman in the world that Charles had wanted to be with.
She could have had a faceless fantasy to tap into but it had seemed perfectly safe to use Charles because she had never expected to see him again. And it had made it all seem so much more believable, because it had happened.
Once...
And, somewhere along the way, she had allowed herself to wonder about all the things she didn’t know about him. What kind of house he lived in, for example. What his favourite food was. Whether he was married now and had a bunch of gorgeous kids.
She probably could have found out with a quick internet search but she never allowed those secret thoughts any head space in daylight hours. And, as soon as she’d started considering working at Manhattan Mercy, she had shut down even the familiar fantasy. It was no more than a very personal secret—a rather embarrassing one now.
But...entering his private domain like this was...
Satisfying?
Exciting?
Astonishing, certainly.
For some reason, she had expected it to be like the apartment she was living in on the ground floor of this wonderful, old building with its high ceilings and period features like original fireplaces and polished wooden floors. She had also expected the slightly overwhelming aura of wealth and style that Stefan and Jerome had created with their bespoke furniture and expertly displayed artworks.
The framework of the apartment with the floors and ceilings was no surprise but Grace’s breath was taken away the moment she stepped through the door to face floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a terrace looking directly over Central Park. The polished floors didn’t have huge Persian rugs like hers and the furniture looked like it had once been in a house out in the country somewhere. A big, old rambling farmhouse, maybe.
The couch was enormous
