was very little left over to give anybody else.
But an affair with Virginia—oh, yes. He could handle that.
She’s a colleague, his alter ego was nagging gently. He switched it off. She understood the rules. She was a woman of the world—that was obvious from the assessing look she had given him that had thrown him for a loop.
They could work together and play together.
It would be fine. He’d make it fine.
His heart thudded a little faster, the beat heavy and strong under his ribs.
Anticipation.
He’d forgotten the taste of it, it had been so long.
He’d flirt with her a little, draw her out, see if she was interested. Maybe dinner, a play or the movies—something like that.
He wondered how Ann’s mother would feel about babysitting for him while he entertained a new woman.
Perhaps he’d ask the girl next door…!
So MAYBE she’d been mistaken. Maybe Ryan was interested. Either that or she was reading him all wrong, which could be fairly embarrassing!
She wasn’t. Every chance he had he made eye contact with her, and his eyes were ultra-expressive. She wasn’t sure if he meant them to be or if they just gave him away, but he was certainly interested in her.
She still didn’t know anything about him, however, but she was willing to bet from what she’d seen of him at work that he wasn’t the sort of man to cheat on his wife. The easy thing, of course, was just to come out and ask him, but she didn’t like to.
It was Patrick Haddon, one of the senior registrars, who told her in the end. They’d been working together on a patient and as the trolley was wheeled away to the ward he stripped off his gloves, dropped them in the bin and grinned at her.
‘Well done. I can see why Ryan speaks so highly of you—apart from the obvious attraction he feels, of course.’
His eyes were twinkling, and Ginny felt a soft tide of colour brush her throat. She ignored the compliment on her work in favour of the rider he had added. ‘Meaning?’ she fished.
Patrick laughed softly. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you.’
She shrugged, pretending indifference. ‘Is it so obvious?’
‘It is to me. It makes a change to see him notice the sex of his colleagues. Not that anybody’s criticising, Ginny. We’re all vulnerable to the right pretty face. Anyway, it’s good to see him taking an interest in a woman. Two years is a long time.’
‘Two years?’ she asked, trying not to let her curiosity be too obvious.
‘Since his wife died. I don’t think there’s been anyone since.’
She felt the shock of his words in a wave of regret for Ryan. How had she died? Slowly, or instantly? Did he know it was going to happen? Did he have time to say goodbye? How much had he been hurt?
So many questions without answers. There was only one Patrick could answer that she was prepared to ask, and even that was a loaded question. ‘Did they have children?’ she asked slowly.
‘Yes—two. A girl and a boy.’
Ginny felt a pang. She wasn’t sure which was worse—to have them and die, or live and not have them.
To die. Yes, of course. Her life was full, after all. Her work was demanding, interesting and stimulating. Her private life was about to flourish, if Ryan’s eyes were to be believed, and everything in her garden was rosy.
Well, almost. There was that little corner where nothing grew—where nothing would ever grow—but it was engulfed by the glorious mass of busyness that threatened to swamp her on occasions.
Yes, it was good to be alive.
Far better than to be dead.
Or widowed. Poor Ryan. She wondered what and when he would tell her about it. Probably not a lot, as he hadn’t yet. She sensed that his private life and work were kept very far apart, and she wondered which slot she would be fitted into if she became his mistress.
A third slot, kept especially for that eventuality? Neither one thing nor the other? Category Three—sex slave.
She gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘Don’t count your chickens, Patrick,’ she warned him. Or Ryan’s. Not that it’s anybody else’s business, but I’m sure if he was that interested he would have done something about it by now.’
But he hadn’t, and he didn’t, and by the end of that week she was wondering if he ever would.
He was constantly underfoot, though. On the pretext of training her he was there at her side all the time, and by the end of Friday she was ready to hit him. She was off duty at five, much to her great relief, and she went into the staffroom to hang up her coat. As she came out so he came in, and their chests collided just as before.
This time, though, he didn’t release her but stared down into her eyes and kept her there, hard against his body, while his eyes smouldered like green coals and her pulse rate rocketed.
She met his hungry gaze frankly, and after a few moments his eyes dropped to her mouth. She thought he was going to kiss her. Most men would have done, but Ryan clearly had more control.
She wished to God he didn’t, but it was probably just as well because there were people passing them in the corridor and they were attracting some very strange and interested looks.
‘Did you want something?’ she asked softly, and under her hands his chest jerked a fraction. A sharp intake of breath?
His eyes flicked up to hers again, and the heat in them made her own breath jerk in response. ‘Urn—yeah, actually,’ he said hesitantly, ‘I was wondering if you were doing anything tomorrow night?’
Someone barged past them and his body was nudged against hers. It felt good—too good to miss.
She smiled slowly. ‘What did you have in mind?’ She could have sworn his skin coloured, just slightly. Guilt? She suppressed a chuckle.
‘Um—dinner? Perhaps the cinema? There’s a new film on I’ve been wanting to see, but I’m easy.’
‘Sounds fine,’ she said with a smile. ‘What time?’
He looked flummoxed for a moment. ‘Time? Ah—seven? I’ll pick you up—where do you live?’
‘Here—at the hospital. I’ve got one of those poky little rooms, but as I’m only in it for ten minutes at a time it doesn’t matter. I’ll meet you at the main entrance.’
‘Fine. Seven o’clock tomorrow, then.’ As if he finally realised
