a doctor, Mum,’ the little boy said. ‘A big boy knocked me down!’
‘Lucy, sit!’ the woman commanded, then she snatched her child from Jean-Luc’s arms.
The dog sat, but kept his dark brown eyes fixed firmly on Jean-Luc. One false move and your hand is mine!
‘Oh, Joe, are you hurt? What big boy? Was it someone we know? Didn’t the bus driver see?’
She was too busy searching her son’s body for injury to notice Jean-Luc, which was perhaps just as well, for he was staring at her, dumbstruck, certain he was seeing a ghost returned to life.
That it was Lauren he had no doubt—the voice, slightly husky as if she always had a cold, the face, the freckles, the long, long legs—but for some strange reason the coincidence of running into her like this was not nearly as hard to believe as the fact that she was alive.
That was the miracle!
‘Oh, you’ve hurt your hand—but everything else? You’re all right?’
The little boy assured her he was OK and she hugged him to her body, finally acknowledging the presence of another person and looking across the child at Jean-Luc.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, offering an apologetic smile to underline the words. ‘I overreacted. Thank you for coming to the rescue. The bus must have been early. Lucy and I were just coming back from our walk. Did you see what happened? See who knocked him over?’
Jean-Luc stared at her, unable to believe she could be so oblivious. It was unthinkable that she had no idea who he was! That he could have changed so much, or been so forgettable…
‘You don’t remember me?’
She frowned, her lovely hazel eyes now studying him more intently, although he guessed most of her attention was still on her child and she was anxious to get him inside so she could check for herself that he wasn’t seriously injured.
‘Should I know you?’ she asked, her smile now polite, but very distant. ‘Oh, Joe said you’re a doctor. You work at the hospital. Of course!’ Another smile, more polite than the first and with as little meaning. ‘You must forgive me. I had an accident years ago and it affected my memory, especially my memory for faces.’
A third smile, this one genuine enough to spark lights in the eyes that had once shone with love for him.
‘At least, that’s my excuse.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Lauren Henderson and this is Joe. Thank you once again.’
Jean-Luc took her hand and introduced himself, eyeing her carefully, certain he’d see a spark of recognition and probably embarrassment when he said his name, but far from uttering a delighted cry of ‘Jean-Luc’ and exclaiming over wonderful twists of fate, all she did was shake his hand and release it, her fingers dropping his so abruptly he knew her thoughts were back on the little boy.
He should have said more—reminded her of India—but she was so totally oblivious and the little boy was claiming pain in his injured hand. So Jean-Luc settled for saying goodbye and watched her scurry back towards the house, head bent as she spoke quietly to her child, the dog they’d called Lucy—surely a female name and it was definitely a male dog—following close behind them, though turning from time to time to check Jean-Luc posed no further danger. The front door opened and all three disappeared inside, the door closing behind them.
Maybe she was a ghost—the whole episode a figment of his imagination, brought about because he’d been thinking about Lauren and her description of her home town…
Had she met that man before? Surely not, for how could she have forgotten someone so mesmeric? Tall, dark and handsome he most certainly was, with eyes—were they dark blue or black?—deepset under black brows. Black hair, neatly trimmed, greying slightly at the temples—a cliché surely! Maybe he dyed it grey to look distinguished. If so, he’d certainly achieved his aim! Tanned olive skin, slightly scarred, puckered even in places, stretched across a strongly boned face, while a long straight nose drew the eyes to well-shaped lips.
Kissable lips!
Lauren set Joe down on the kitchen table the better to examine his injuries. Kissable lips indeed! What was she thinking?
And why?
Because her body had responded to the touch of his hand? Because her skin had tingled when he’d clasped her fingers?
Of course not! She’d been strung up over seeing Joe in a stranger’s arms—then to hear he’d been injured…
The tingling had been apprehension…
It had only happened when he’d touched her.
She used a clean cloth to wipe the grazes on Joe’s hand and leg, chatting to him, asking about the accident, although her mind was not on Joe’s explanations of the skateboard rider crashing into him but on the man who had rescued her son.
A stranger.
Just an ordinary man.
No! Not in the wildest flights of any woman’s imagination could that man be classed as ordinary.
Or forgettable—yet she certainly had no recollection of ever having met him.
‘Did he say he was a doctor?’ Lauren asked, pushing her memory to bring up some hint of a meeting.
‘Who?’
‘The man who picked you up.’
‘Yes.’
Big help!
‘At the hospital?’
‘Dunno. Mum, can I go and play?’
‘A snack first,’ Lauren said. What was she doing, cross-examining her own child about a man she’d probably never see again? She lifted Joe off the table and sent him to wash his hands.
Although the man had been walking down the road…
And most of the houses in the area were hospital houses…
She shook her head at her own stupidity. As if a man like that would ever look at someone like her, and then there was her track record with men. Most men who took her out were interested right up until the stage they met Joe and realised he was part of the package, after which they disappeared, never to be heard from again.
She put a glass of milk and a plate of cheese with fruit and vegetable sticks on the table, and settled Joe in front of them. Then she ruffled his hair and bent to kiss the top of his head.
She’d rather have Joe than a thousand handsome men, although now and then she wondered wistfully about his father. Had his touch made her skin tingle?
The next morning Jean-Luc stood at the bedroom window of the flat that would be his home for the next six months. It was two doors down from the one where the ghost of Lauren lived—except she wasn’t a ghost, she was real. Even her name, Lauren Henderson, was real.
It was unbelievable—first that
