The Midwife's Marriage Proposal (5 page)

And, anyway, hadn't he said that he was working?

‘I'll be there,' she said quickly, not giving herself the chance to think about the invitation any further. It would be nice to go out. Nice to see Oliver again.

She went back to Charlotte and in virtually no time she was fully dilated and ready to push.

Sally called for Emma and together they quietly delivered the baby with the minimum of fuss and bother.

‘Well done, Charlotte,' Sally said quietly as she
handed the baby to her very tired but very proud mother. ‘You were amazing.'

‘I can't thank you enough.' Charlotte gazed down at her baby daughter and tears filled her eyes. ‘And I did it all by myself.'

‘That's right.' Sally smiled. ‘All by yourself.'

Emma sniffed. ‘And that's the way it should be done.'

* * *

‘Another long day.' Sally changed into her jeans and a jumper the exact colour of her eyes, slammed her locker shut and pocketed the key. ‘See you tomorrow, Emma.'

She ran down the stairs to the bike rack at the back of the unit and grabbed her mountain bike.

It was a cold, clear evening and she rode fast, chasing away the pressures of the past few days, enjoying the bite of winter air against her cheeks.

Oliver answered the door with a smile. ‘Sally!' He stepped forward and hugged her tightly. ‘It is so good to see you. We've missed you.'

Touched by the warm welcome, Sally hugged him back. She'd missed her friends so much, but she hadn't truly realized how much until she'd had the letter from Bryony. Her thoughts about home had always been dominated by Tom, and somehow along the way she'd forgotten just how many longstanding friendships she had in this small community.

For a moment she closed her eyes and allowed herself the rare treat of being held by someone, and then she pulled away and reached up to kiss his cheek, handing him the bottle of wine she'd brought with her.

‘Congratulations. Bryony tells me you finally met Miss Right. The women of Cumbria must be in mourning.'

Oliver grinned. ‘The fells are littered with sobbing
females. Come and meet Helen. Everyone's in the kitchen.'

Sally followed him through to the kitchen, smiling at Jack and Bryony and sniffing appreciatively. ‘Smells good, Oliver.'

A pretty blonde girl stepped forward, a smile on her face as she greeted Sally. ‘I'm Helen and I'm very pleased to meet you.'

‘Likewise.' Sally glanced between them. ‘I'm really delighted for the two of you. I hear you met at Bryony's wedding two months ago?'

‘That's right.' Oliver slipped an arm round Helen's shoulders and hugged her. ‘We're getting married in two weeks' time and before you ask the obvious question, no, she isn't pregnant but if I have my way she will be soon.'

Helen gave a shocked gasp and gave Oliver a little push. ‘Oliver, that's awful! You shouldn't say things like that in company!'

Her face was scarlet with embarrassment and Oliver cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

‘That depends on the company.' His tone was smug and his blue eyes twinkled. ‘This lot have always known I want a hundred children so it's time we got started.'

Genuinely pleased that they were so happy, Sally managed a smile and tried to ignore the ache in her heart.

It would happen to her,
she told herself firmly.

One day it would happen to her.

‘Have a drink.' Oliver handed her a glass of wine and then tilted his head as the doorbell rang. ‘Be an angel and get that for me, Sal, while I finish cooking.'

The years fell away.

Suddenly she was ‘Sal' again, and it felt good. Comfortable and safe.

During her childhood, being with Bryony, Oliver and Tom had been the nearest she'd come to belonging anywhere.

The nearest she'd had to family.

Suddenly she was glad that Bryony had married Jack. If she hadn't, would she herself ever have found the courage to come home? Preoccupied, Sally walked to the front door and tugged it open, her smile of greeting fading as she found herself face to face with Tom.

H
E WAS
dressed in black leathers, his motorbike helmet tucked under one arm, the dark stubble on his jaw an indication that he'd left the hospital in a hurry. He looked dark and dangerous and his blue gaze locked on hers in blatant challenge, his mouth tightening as their eyes met.

Her heart stumbled and her stomach lurched but her instinct to close the door and pretend that there was no one there was curbed by the knowledge that this wasn't her house. She had no right to shut him out of his brother's home.

And she really didn't want him to know that she cared that much.

It was the one thing that stopped her dropping her glass and reaching for her coat.

Pride.

She was no longer so weak and pathetic that she believed that she couldn't exist without Tom Hunter in her life.

Calling on inner reserves, she reminded herself that part of coming home had been to confront what she'd felt for Tom, and she couldn't do that by avoiding him.

Avoiding him implied that she still felt something for him, and she wasn't that foolish.

‘Well?' A faint smile of self-mockery touched his firm mouth. ‘Are you going to slam the door in my face?'

The fact that she'd considered doing exactly that brought a trace of colour to her cheeks and she stepped
to one side to let him in, careful that her gaze revealed nothing.

‘I hope I'm not that uncivilized, Tom.'

She wanted to ask why he wasn't working, but stayed silent. She didn't want him knowing that she cared that much or that she'd taken that much notice of what he'd told her earlier.

‘I want to talk to you, Sally.' He unzipped his jacket and she flinched, her eyes drawn instinctively to his chest and then away, fixing on some point in Oliver's hallway.

She forced herself to resist the command in his tone. She'd been making her own decisions for years now and she intended to carry on doing so. To listen to what he had to say would risk being sucked back into the darkness from which she'd fought so hard to escape.

‘There is absolutely nothing that you and I need to talk about, and this is supposed to be an evening spent with friends,' she replied calmly, turning away from him with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘I haven't seen Oliver for years and I want to get to know Helen.'

Strong fingers caught her wrist and swung her back round to face him. ‘And you and I no longer share the category of friends?'

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

Friends?

Once he'd been everything to her. Her friend, her lover—
her world.

His fingers tightened and she felt his touch with every fibre of her being. Her traitorous body yearned for more. Yearned for everything this man was capable of giving.

And then she remembered that he wasn't capable of giving enough.

He hadn't been able to make that commitment to her.

And neither had anyone else in her life.

And she'd finally learned to live her life alone, depending on no one.

‘Of course we can be friends.' Her answer was suitably bland. ‘After all, we're working together.'

‘That's colleagues,' he replied softly, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Friendship is something completely different. We had it once.'

‘And I seem to remember that you decided that you no longer valued that friendship.' She gave a cool smile to indicate that the conversation was over, ignoring the traitorous thump of her heart. ‘Oliver is handing out drinks in the kitchen. If you don't want to miss out I suggest you move quickly.' With a determined twist of her wrist she freed herself and walked towards the kitchen with a determined stride, feeling his frustration with a faint flicker of satisfaction.

Not everything goes your way, Tom Hunter.

She walked back into the kitchen and said, ‘Tom's here,' in her most casual voice, and then proceeded to top up her glass of wine.

There was a tense silence and Bryony put her hands on her hips and glared at Oliver. ‘You invited
Tom
?'

‘Why not?' Oliver's tone was calm. ‘He's my brother. I refuse to stop socializing with him just because he used to go out with Sally. It's been seven years, for crying out loud. It's history. We all need to move on.'

‘But—'

‘Hush, Bry,' Sally said quietly, reaching out and squeezing her friend's shoulder to reassure her. ‘Oliver's right. It's fine.'

And it
was
fine. She was totally in control.

She'd always known that she wouldn't be able to avoid Tom. And she didn't want to.

What she wanted was to work and live in a community alongside him and not feel anything.

Bryony rubbed her fingers over her temples, visibly stressed, and Oliver glanced towards the door where Tom was leaning, listening to the exchange in silence, his handsome face devoid of expression.

He'd removed his leathers to reveal a pair of snugly fitting jeans and a black jumper that simply accentuated his masculine looks.

He looked dark and dangerous and just about as sexy as it was possible for a man to be.

‘I can't understand why you use the motorbike in winter.' Oliver's tone was mild. ‘It's freezing out there and it worries Mum.'

‘I've been worrying Mum since I was able to walk,' Tom drawled, strolling to the fridge and helping himself to a bottle of beer. ‘And I like the fresh air. Good evening, Bryony.'

Ignoring the irony in his tone, Bryony glared at him and Oliver sighed.

‘You're destroying the atmosphere of my dinner party,' he said mildly. ‘Sort it out, bro, or we'll all get indigestion.'

‘I intend to sort it out.' Tom pushed the fridge door shut, his eyes on Sally. ‘So what do you say, Sally? Can we work together and socialize together without creating an atmosphere?'

Sally tensed, her fingers gripping the stem of her wineglass so tightly that it was in danger of snapping.

He stepped towards her, his gaze only for her. ‘My sister thinks you should hit me. So do it, Sally.'

She felt smothered by his closeness, by his overwhelming masculinity. She took a deep breath and then wished she hadn't because his tantalizing male
smell filled her head and clouded her senses. She had only to lift a hand to touch him but she kept both hands firmly by her sides and stared at the floor.

She decided to let him speak. If she let him speak then he'd leave her alone.

‘I don't want to hit you.'

‘You should. It would make Bryony feel better. And stop looking at the floor.' Tom lifted his hands and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. ‘I want you to look at me.'

Startled by his touch, she stood without moving, staring into her past, feeling the brush of his fingers on her sensitized skin.

She'd loved this man so much.

‘I'm sorry, Sally.' His voice softened with genuine regret. ‘Sorry for hurting you so badly.'

Those blue eyes drew her in and she struggled against the powerful sexual attraction that still existed between them.

With a monumental effort she broke the contact. First the emotional, then the physical.

Shutting herself down, she stepped backwards.

‘You did what you believed was right,' she said lightly, managing what she hoped was a dignified smile. ‘And it's in the past. Oliver's right—we've all moved on. The future is what's important now.'

And her future wasn't going to feature this man.

She would never allow herself to be so vulnerable to hurt and pain again.

She lifted her chin and looked at Oliver. ‘When are we eating? I'm starving.'

There was a collective sigh of relief around the room and everyone started talking again.

Everyone except Tom.

His eyes were firmly fixed on Sally, his blue gaze narrow and assessing as he looked at her.

Instantly she turned away, determined not to allow him access to her thoughts.

He'd always been good at reading her.

Too good.

That amazing bond of understanding had been fundamental to the powerful chemistry they'd shared. And it had made it even harder when he'd ended the relationship.

People had come and gone from her life before, but none of them had understood her as Tom had, and it had made the loss even greater.

Determined to normalize the situation, she quickly involved Bryony in a discussion about her new role as a GP registrar.

‘I've only been doing it for a month.' Bryony held out her glass so that Oliver could top it up. ‘I'm just grateful I haven't got Oliver as my trainer. It would be only marginally worse than working with Jack.'

‘Confronting perfection on a daily basis can be challenging,' Jack agreed sympathetically, his expression solemn as he looked at his wife.

‘Don't start,' Bryony warned, glancing over her shoulder to the Aga. ‘Something's about to boil over, Helen.'

Helen gave a gasp and dashed to retrieve the pan while Oliver laughed. ‘OK, everybody out! We're distracting her. Table's laid in the conservatory. Helen and I will finish up here.'

He ushered them out of the kitchen while Helen drained the vegetables and removed the plates from the warmer.

Wishing she could have stayed in the relative safety of the kitchen, Sally walked into Oliver's huge glass
conservatory and eyed the table warily. Bryony and Jack sat down together on one side of the table, still in mid-argument, which meant that, wherever she sat, she'd be near Tom.

She almost laughed. Of course she'd be near Tom. The table was laid for six. How could she not be near him? And with everyone else in couples, how could this not be intimate?

She was just contemplating whether it would be less nerve-racking to sit opposite him or next to him when Tom settled himself in a vacant chair and looked at his sister.

‘So are you going to the training session tomorrow night?'

Relieved that she wasn't the focus of attention, Sally slipped into the seat next to Tom, deciding that at least that way she wouldn't have to look at him.

‘Yes.' Bryony reached for a bread roll and broke it in half. ‘So is Sally. Sean couldn't wait to get her back on the team.'

Oliver walked into the room, carrying a huge dish piled high with a delicious-smelling risotto. ‘Didn't take him long to talk you into that, Sal.'

Sally took a plate from Helen with a smile of thanks. ‘You know Sean.'

Helen spooned some risotto onto her plate. ‘So you're a mountain girl, too?'

Oliver gave a snort. ‘Sally is more of a mountain girl than any of us. She's been doing the serious stuff. And she's going to tell us all about it.' He topped up everyone's glasses and then raised his towards Sally. ‘Cheers. And now we want to hear everything, down to the last gory detail.'

‘Not much to tell.' She'd left in a mess and had somehow
managed to rebuild her life. It wasn't a story she cared to tell in front of Tom. ‘After I left here, I spent some time in the Himalayas. Climbing and working in a clinic there. It was good experience.'

‘What did you climb?'

It was typical of Tom to want the detail. When they'd been young they'd exchanged details of every route.

‘Well, not Everest,' she said lightly, ‘although I spent some time at base camp and lower down the valley.' She hesitated. ‘I joined an expedition climbing Ama Dablam, and that was amazing. Such a beautiful mountain.'

Tom's expression changed and he looked at her with a new respect. ‘You climbed Ama Dablam? That's a serious climb. How did you cope with the altitude?'

‘Surprisingly well.'

‘Dad and I climbed it. It was our first real Himalayan experience.'

She looked at him and for a moment there were only the two of them in the room. ‘I remember. You raved about it. It was one of the reasons I went there.'

Because going somewhere that he'd been had somehow maintained a link. And she didn't want to remember how desperately she'd needed that link. Anything that reminded her of Tom. Anywhere that Tom had been, as if he'd imprinted part of himself on the places that he'd visited.

Suddenly realizing that she'd revealed too much, she dropped her eyes to her plate. ‘After Ama Dablam, I travelled. I met a friend and we went mountain biking around Nepal—that was great. We had a good time.'

‘A
friend
?' Bryony's eyes teased her from across the table. ‘We want to hear more about this
friend.
'

Everyone laughed except Tom, who gazed at her face in brooding silence.

‘You went mountain biking in the Himalayas?' Helen looked at her in awe. ‘You make me feel exhausted just thinking about it. Didn't you relax at all?'

Sally fiddled with her food and gave a half-smile. ‘I find climbing relaxing.'

It required all her concentration and that left no room for other thoughts to intrude. Thoughts of Tom. She'd run so that the pain couldn't catch her and she'd continued to run until she'd finally been sure that she'd left the worst of the agony behind.

‘Well, it certainly doesn't sound relaxing to me.' Helen gave a little shudder and Oliver laughed and took her hand.

‘My wife is a townie at heart,' he teased gently, ‘but we're trying to convert her. If she doesn't wear high heels for a few days she has serious withdrawal symptoms.'

Helen's eyes mocked him. ‘You're always so derogatory about my choice of footwear, but I don't hear you complaining when we go out.'

‘I admit it.' Oliver grinned at her. ‘My fatal weakness. A woman in high heels.'

‘Enough of your strange fetishes.' Bryony frowned at her brother and turned back to Sally. ‘I had your letter from the Karakorum.'

Helen looked confused. ‘Where—or what—is the Karakorum?'

Tom stirred. ‘It's a range of mountains in Pakistan.' He looked at Sally. ‘You went to K2?'