‘If you’d rather not go, I won’t make a big deal out of it.’
‘And if I do go?’
‘Um, there’s the revue.’ Jodie winced. She didn’t know a huge amount of detail, but what she knew wasn’t good.
‘Consultants are fair game for sketches. And I suppose it’s time the boot was on the other foot.’
Jodie digested his words and then blinked hard. ‘You mean—you’ve acted in a revue?’
He shrugged. ‘I think all doctors get involved in some kind of revue at some point. When I was a house officer, I played our senior consultant as God.’
‘No.’ Without thinking, Jodie perched on the edge of his desk and crossed one long leg over the other. ‘Show me.’
‘Show you?’
‘Oh, come on. You can’t feed me a line like that and back off again.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t really remember the lines now. It was something about the ten commandments of working on his ward. Thou shalt not drink coffee until thou hast knelt at my feet and worshipped me for five minutes—that sort of thing.’
‘Hmm.’ Jodie’s smile was pure mischief.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Sam warned, guessing at what was going through her mind. ‘Are you in this revue?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m a hopeless actor. I just made some of the props—with a bit of help from some of the older children on the ward.’
‘Such as Mr Frosty’s costume?’ he asked.
‘I think it’s time I left.’ She gave him a nervous smile, slid down from his desk and headed for the door.
‘Not so fast.’
She stopped with her fingers on the doorhandle.
‘Am I picking you up or meeting you here? And what time?’
‘I’ll make my own way there,’ Jodie said. ‘It starts at seven in the canteen.’
‘I’ll see you there, then. At ten to seven.’
‘OK.’ Jodie left his office, closing the door behind her, and heaved a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected…or, now she thought about it, had it? She had her date for the party, but she still had no idea whether he really wanted to be there or not.
‘Well, Mr Frosty, if the revue doesn’t thaw you out, nothing will,’ she said softly to herself.
Sam leaned back in his chair. He was walking on very thin ice indeed. Jodie had even given him the perfect get-out for not going to the party—so why hadn’t he jumped at it?
Because you want to see her all dressed up, the little voice in his head informed him. And then you want to take every scrap of material off her again…
Do not.
You’re in denial—Mr Frosty, the voice taunted him.
Sam groaned aloud. He was going to have an awful lot to live up to—but he was aware that distance wasn’t a style the ward was comfortable with. Maybe the party was his chance to show the rest of the team that he had a sense of humour, that he could laugh with them.
How long had it been since he’d laughed? Really laughed? Before Jodie had burst into his life and insisted on him going to Mario’s with the rest of the team?
He closed his eyes. Jodie again. Maybe he should have accepted her get-out. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope, dancing with her. Holding her so close and knowing he couldn’t have her—ever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them.
He smiled wryly. Who said life had to be fair? Besides, he knew there were people out there far worse off than he was—it was just that, right now, it didn’t feel like it.
Tomorrow morning, he decided, he’d have a convenient sore throat. One that got worse during the day so he wouldn’t feel up to going to the Christmas party. That way, Jodie wouldn’t think he was avoiding the party because of her. She’d still be able to go and enjoy herself, she wouldn’t be embarrassed dealing with him at work—and he wouldn’t have the torture of wanting something he knew he couldn’t have.
THOUGH, of course, Sam did nothing of the kind.
Although his path didn’t cross Jodie’s during their shifts the next day, he could have complained about his ‘sore throat’ to any of the nurses or junior doctors he worked with, knowing they’d pass the message on to Jodie. But something stopped him and at ten to seven he was striding down the corridor to meet her.
She looked absolutely stunning, Sam thought as he saw her standing by the entrance to the canteen. She’d piled her hair on the top of her head and little tendrils escaped here and there to soften the severity of the style. Her make-up was understated, just enough to emphasise her beautiful green eyes and tempting mouth. And the crimson raw silk shift dress suited her colouring perfectly. Not to mention showing just how long her legs were. She was wearing heels high enough to make her the same height as he was and a smile that made him feel as if a knife had been plunged into his stomach—because the smile was directed at the man who was talking to her. Mick Salmond, a nurse on their ward. The man who knew her well enough to order her pizza for her when she’d been late at Mario’s.
And the warmth of that smile…Was something going on between them? He searched his memory. Wasn’t Mick Salmond married? What the hell did Jodie think she was doing, having an affair with a married man?
‘Dr Price,’ he said stiffly, joining them. ‘I trust I’m not late.’
‘No. I was early.’
‘For once,’ Mick said, teasing her.
‘Huh. I’m not late all the time.’
‘Only on a day with a Y in it,’ the nurse retorted with a grin.
‘Yeah, yeah. Hey, Mick’s got some fabulous news.’ She dug her companion in the ribs. ‘Go on, tell him, before I burst.’
‘News?’ Sam echoed, frowning.
Mick beamed. ‘I’m going to be a dad!’
‘Congratulations.’ Sam forced the word out. Hadn’t he come to terms with this years ago? So why could those six little words still hurt him so much, the six words he’d never be able to say himself?
And why was Jodie going to burst? Was she the one expecting Mick’s baby?
The thought was like a physical blow. He felt winded, sick.
‘Shelley’s going to make a brilliant mum,’ Jodie said. ‘And she’s asked me to be godmother.’
