proud might disappoint hers because they’d expected something else for her. ‘And I love you, too. You need to book that flight—but eat first.’
She grimaced. ‘I can’t face anything. Not now.’
‘And the chips are probably cold by now. I could put them in the microwave,’ he suggested.
‘Dragan Lovak, and you a doctor!’ She shook her head in apparent disbelief. ‘Tut-tut. Think of the bacteria. Reheated food that hasn’t been chilled properly in between…it’s an absolute breeding ground. And, besides, the chips will go soggy if you put them in the microwave.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ But at least he’d made her smile again.
Though the look in her eyes disturbed him. The desperation. Would it really be so bad for her, going back? ‘I’m here,’ he said softly. ‘And nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m around.’
If only that were true. As soon as he found out about her family…Oh, Dio. She had to tell him, she really did. But now wasn’t the time or the place. And he’d said it could wait…
Coward that she was, she was relieved. The risk of losing the man she loved right on top of losing her brother was just too horrible to contemplate. She knew he’d be hurt that she hadn’t told him before—and maybe angry that she hadn’t trusted him—and she felt bad about it. Guilty. But she just hadn’t been able to find the right words or the right time.
Though she’d tell him the truth about herself tomorrow morning. First thing.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘I’LL go and check on Bramble,’ Dragan said, ‘while you sort out your flights.’
‘You can bring her back here, if you like,’ Melinda said. ‘She’s no trouble.’
Having a dog to make a fuss of might help her, he thought.
Even though he lived just round the corner, to save time in the morning he drove over to Melinda’s and left his car in the surgery car park. If people talked—well, let them. After his meeting with Reverend Kenner tomorrow, everyone would know anyway.
Melinda had given him her key; he unlocked the door to her flat and carried Bramble up the stairs. Strictly speaking, he knew she could manage it herself, but he also knew what a lively dog she was—and her leg still hadn’t healed properly. If she slipped on the stairs and cracked a bone or shifted the pins again, she might have to lose the leg. And he really wanted to avoid that if possible.
The dog took full advantage of her position to lick his face, and he laughed. ‘You horrible mutt. What are you? Horrible!’
She licked him again, clearly hearing in his tone of voice how much he loved her. She reminded him of the dog he’d had as a boy. So when Melinda had been looking for a home for the dog she’d rescued, a few months before, he hadn’t been able to resist offering.
‘How did you get on?’ he asked Melinda as he set the dog back on her feet.
‘I’ve done some notes for George and Sally, and there’s a flight to London at twenty past seven tomorrow morning. I can pick up my tickets from the desk, but I need to be at the airport an hour before my flight.’
‘Crack of dawn start, then.’ He shrugged. ‘Not a problem. I’ll just go and fetch my clothes and Bramble’s basket from the car.’
When he returned, Bramble was settled very comfortably, thank you, on the sofa, and Melinda was making a fuss of her.
‘Don’t think you’re sleeping there tonight, dog,’ he warned.
Bramble just thumped her tail, as if she knew perfectly well that Melinda wouldn’t mind.
‘I’ll make us something to eat,’ Dragan said. ‘And, no, Bramble, you are not scoffing all the cold, soggy chips,’ he added at the dog’s hopeful look when he carried the paper parcel over to the bin. ‘They’re bad for you.’
‘Don’t do anything for me. I’m really not hungry,’ Melinda said with a grimace.
‘You need to eat,’ he said gently. ‘Trust me, low blood sugar on top of the bad news you’ve just had will only make you feel worse. Now, you go and check on Cassidy, and I’ll make you an omelette.’ At her raised eyebrow, he smiled. ‘I make a very good omelette, I’ll have you know.’
When she came back from checking on the parrot and the large, fluffy omelette was cooked, he divided it into two and slid it onto their plates.
She ate about three mouthfuls before pushing her plate away.
‘It’s that bad?’ he asked.
‘No, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I just…It feels wrong to eat somehow. My brother’s dead and here I am, stuffing my face. It’s…wrong.’
‘OK. I won’t force you.’ He scraped the contents of her plate into the bin and made short work of the washing-up. ‘Come on. Let’s try and get some sleep.’ He looked at the dog, who was still curled happily on the sofa. ‘Bramble, in your basket.’
‘Oh, leave her,’ Melinda said, her voice weary. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
He remembered that feeling, too. As if nothing mattered any more. And he ached for her.
‘Come on, cara,’ he said, and shepherded her into the bedroom. She used the little en suite bathroom first and by the time he’d had a quick shower and cleaned his teeth, she was curled up in bed.
‘Have you set your alarm?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘Good.’ He slid his arm round her waist and drew her back into the curve of his body. Melinda was a bright, independent woman who was more than capable of standing on her own two feet—but tonight he felt very protective towards her. He wanted to be the barrier between her and the world, make sure nothing else happened to hurt her.
Clearly her family was nothing like his own had been. The trace of bitterness in her voice when she’d spoken about not fitting in…Well, she fitted in just fine with him. And together they’d make a new family. A family where she was the centre.
Ha. He hadn’t even thought about children before. But now the idea had slid into his head, he liked it. And he could imagine their daughter—a small, stubborn version of Melinda, with his own dark eyes and hair and Melinda’s beautiful smile. She’d wrap her daddy right round her little finger.
‘Volim te,’ he said softly, and kissed Melinda’s bare shoulder.
He really hadn’t intended to pressure her into making love with him. But when she twisted round in his arms, slid her arms round his neck and kissed him back, he couldn’t help responding.
Her hand slid down over his shoulder, squeezed the firm muscles of his upper arms. ‘You feel so good,’ she whispered. And her mouth traced a path over his jawline, down his throat; her tongue pressed against the pulse point beating hard and fast in his neck.
‘Ah, bellissima,’
