The Midwife's Marriage Proposal (6 page)

‘I worked as base camp manager for one of the expeditions,' she told him, ‘and in one of the clinics there.
And when that finished one of them persuaded me to travel to Australia so I did and I got a job as a midwife.'

The conversation switched to obstetrics and Sally concentrated on her meal, wondering why she couldn't relax.

She'd grown up with these people. They were the closest thing to family she had, and yet the only person she was aware of was Tom.

Despite the fact that his chair was several inches from hers, she was supremely conscious of him. The hard muscle of his thigh was tantalizingly close to hers and suddenly she wished she could flick a switch in her body that would delete for ever her awareness of this man.

And he was tense.

She could feel it.

He lounged in his chair, listening to the conversation, his long fingers tapping the table.

‘All right, pay attention. We have some news.' Bryony tucked her hand into Jack's and beamed at everyone.

Sally looked at her friend with interest, glad of a distraction from Tom. ‘What news?'

‘I'm pregnant.' Bryony spoke softly, her gaze slightly shy as she looked at Jack. ‘Two months gone. Not very much really, so we haven't told anyone except Mum. And now you.'

Helen gave a squeal of delight and dashed round the table to hug Bryony. Oliver shot Jack an amused glance.

‘No need to ask what you were doing on your honeymoon. Congratulations.'

‘Yes, congratulations.' Genuinely pleased for her friend, Sally smiled across the table. ‘It looks as though I came home at the right time. I've got seven months to get used to the idea of answering to “Aunty Sally”.'

Tom's gaze was fixed on her face. ‘Why did you decide to come home?'

Sally reached for her wine, her hand perfectly steady. ‘Because it was time,' she said softly, still smiling at Bryony. ‘I realized I was missing out on the lives of people who matter to me.'

Bryony looked at Tom. ‘I want you to deliver me.'

Tom frowned and his fingers stilled. ‘That would not be a good idea, and you know it.'

‘You delivered Ellie MacAllister.' Bryony's gaze softened as she looked at her brother. ‘You saved her life.'

‘Ellie is not my sister.'

‘But she's a close friend.'

Tom let out a long breath. ‘That's different.'

‘I don't see why your sister should be deserving of less than a friend. There's no one else I trust,' Bryony confessed quietly, and Tom sighed.

‘Bry, I can't.' He took a slug of wine and stared broodily at his glass. ‘I'll have a word with Chris Knight. He seems pretty good to me.'

‘Pretty good isn't good enough,' Bryony said tartly, and Jack grinned.

‘“Pretty good” is high praise from your brother, you should know that. The guy's obviously a genius.'

Tom gave a wry smile. ‘He seems solid enough and we think along the same lines.'

‘I want
you
,' Bryony said stubbornly, and Tom's gaze shifted to Jack.

‘Don't look at me,' Jack muttered. ‘When Bry gets something stuck in her head, there's no shifting it. You should know that.'

Tom was silent for a few moments and then he looked at his sister. ‘I promise to be there when you deliver, but I'm not being responsible for the actual delivery.'

Bryony hesitated. ‘You'll be there? You'll intervene if you see them doing something wrong?'

‘People don't do things wrong in my department.' Tom ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘And, yes, I'll be there.'

Bryony smiled at him, warmth and gratitude in her eyes. ‘Thanks, Tom.'

Sally was suddenly aware that he was studying her again and she felt the tension rise inside her.

Why had he asked her that question about her reasons for coming home?

Had he expected a declaration of undying love?

If so then he was doomed to disappointment.

She stood up, suddenly needing to be in her own.

‘I'd better go. I'm on an early tomorrow.' She glanced at her watch and then smiled at Helen. ‘It was a wonderful meal and a lovely evening. Thank you so much for inviting me.'

‘Come again soon.' Helen glanced at Jack and Bryony. ‘Are you giving Sally a lift home? She can't possibly ride her bike this late.'

‘You're talking to a girl who mountain biked around the Himalayas,' Oliver said dryly, his eyes amused as he looked at his fiancée. ‘I don't suppose anyone looked out for her then.'

‘Well, that doesn't mean we shouldn't look out for her now,' Helen said firmly, ‘and she isn't riding that bike of hers home this late at night.'

Something shifted inside Sally and she felt an instant bond with Helen.

She was an incredibly kind person.

‘Thank you,' she said gruffly, ‘but I'll be fine, really.'

‘Helen's right, you shouldn't cycle this late. I'll give
you a lift.' Tom rose to his feet and lifted an eyebrow in her direction, challenging her to refuse.

She lifted an eyebrow. ‘You're on a bike, too, remember?'

Tom's eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Not the same thing, as you well know.'

Sally glanced down at herself. ‘I'm hardly dressed for a ride on a motorbike in freezing March.'

‘I've got a spare helmet and you can borrow a set of leathers from here,' Tom said easily. ‘Oliver?'

‘We'll take her,' Bryony interrupted quickly, her expression troubled as she looked at Sally. ‘She doesn't want to go on the back of your motorbike. It's a totally uncivilized mode of transport.'

‘Sally isn't like you,' Tom said softly, his blue eyes fixed firmly on Sally. ‘She used to love my motorbike. I can't believe she's really changed that much.'

Sally stared at him, hardly able to breathe. Why did she have the feeling that this conversation wasn't about motorbikes? It was about the person she used to be.

But she wasn't that person any more.

She wasn't the same girl who had been so crazy about Tom that all the other parts of her life had blurred into insignificance.

Bryony reached for her keys. ‘I'm taking her home,' she said firmly, and Oliver sighed.

‘Well, in that case you'll have to come back here afterwards, because Jack and I have got things to discuss.'

‘Thanks, Bry, but I'll go with Tom.' The last thing Sally wanted was to put Bryony to so much trouble when she'd already been so generous in every way. It was just one short motorbike ride. How could that be a problem? And it was hardly intimate. They wouldn't
even be able to have a conversation and he couldn't see her face once they were on the bike. It would be fine.

She looked at the leathers that Oliver was holding out to her, her eyes suddenly wary as she recognized them. ‘They're mine …'

‘You gave them to us when you left. Naturally, we hung onto them.'

Sally stood for a moment, remembering the time she'd bought the leathers. The same time she'd thought she'd be with Tom for ever.

Putting them on would be like going back in time, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Then she felt Tom's eyes on her and reached for the leathers. ‘Thanks.'

She wriggled into them, took the helmet from Tom and said her goodbyes, by which time Tom was already seated on the motorbike, his black helmet concealing his features and giving him an air of menace and danger.

Sally swallowed, suddenly realizing what she'd committed herself to. Why on earth hadn't she just agreed when Bryony had offered to drive her home? It would have been the safe option.

But she'd never chosen the safe option in her life and Bryony had already done more than enough.

She looked at his powerful figure straddling the bike with careless ease and suddenly her body throbbed in an instinctive and totally feminine response to the macho figure he presented. But his sexual magnetism had never been in question, she reasoned, hating herself for the strength of her reaction. That was why she'd made such a fool of herself over him in her teens.

Looking at the space on the back of his bike, she felt her breath catch.

How could she have thought that riding on a bike with
him would be less intimate than travelling in a car? It was so much more intimate. On a bike she would be wrapped around him, her body locked against his as it had been so many times in the past.

‘Are you coming?' His deep voice was molten male invitation and she was suddenly thankful that the helmet concealed her expression.

‘Yes.'

Comforting herself that the journey was relatively short, she stepped up to the bike and swung her leg over, sitting as far back in the saddle as possible, trying to keep her distance.

Without speaking, he reached back and found her arms, lifting them and wrapping them around him, forcing her to draw close, to slot her body against his.

She felt the warmth and strength of him pressed against her, felt the powerful play of male muscle against hers as he steered the bike out of Oliver's drive.

As they picked up speed she felt the familiar kick of excitement and closed her eyes, transported back in time.

It was a mistake. Like an addict who allows himself just one more taste of a dangerous substance, she felt the insidious pull of desire. A need that couldn't be controlled by common sense. Feeling the traitorous warmth spread through her body, she wondered despairingly how it was that you could know something was bad for you and yet still want it so badly.

Other men
, she told herself firmly.

There were other men out there and she was going to meet one of them …

She was so preoccupied by her own internal battle that it wasn't until Tom approached Bryony's cottage that she realized that she hadn't even told him where she lived.

The bike slowed and she pulled herself back from the edge of insanity, sliding off the back of the bike before he'd even brought it to a halt.

She dragged off the helmet and handed it to him, shaking her blonde hair in an automatic gesture.

‘So how did you know where I was living?'

‘A simple matter of deduction,' he drawled. ‘My little sister seems to have given herself the role of protector and her cottage is empty. It would be a logical decision to offer it to you.'

‘I'm finding myself somewhere of my own soon.'

He shrugged. ‘Why bother? This cottage is great and it's not that far from the hospital.'

Because after seven years of travelling she was ready to have somewhere that was her own. Even if all she could afford was something tiny.

It would be all hers.

But she had no intention of sharing those thoughts with Tom.

‘Goodnight. Thanks for the lift.'

‘Are you going to invite me in?' His voice was velvety dark and tempting and she stared at him like a rabbit caught in headlights, the physical pull of his presence as powerful as ever.

‘Why would I?'

‘Because, whatever you might say to the contrary,' he drawled softly, ‘you know you want to. All evening you felt me next to you in the same way that I felt you. This thing between us hasn't gone away, Sally.'

Her insides lurched alarmingly and she backed away a few steps. ‘What I know,' she said coldly, ‘is that you are as arrogant as ever.'

But despite her accusation she could feel the insidious
warmth spread through her veins, fuelled by the lazy, confident look in his blue eyes.

When she'd been younger, it had been one of the many things that had attracted her to him. His unshakable self-confidence, his nerve and courage in confronting the world, his total belief in his ability to conquer all. For someone as insecure as her, he'd represented security. She'd always believed that nothing would ever go wrong as long as Tom was there.

But the thing that had gone wrong had been Tom himself.

Like everyone else in her life, eventually he'd pushed her away.

‘So are you inviting me in?' He sat easily on the bike, watching her, totally relaxed. Or was he? His blue eyes were sharp and alert and fixed on her face, reading her every reaction with lethal accuracy.

‘No, Tom. I'm not. Thanks for the lift.' She delved in her bag for her keys and turned to walk down the path to the cottage, but his arm snaked out and strong fingers closed over her arm, preventing her escape.

‘You can deny it as much as you like, but it's still there.'

She stood still, trapped by the strength of his fingers and the truth in his words.

It
was
still there.

And that made it doubly difficult to do what she had to do.

But it didn't make it impossible.

‘Goodnight, Tom.' With a determined effort and more willpower than she'd known she possessed, she pulled away from him for the second time that evening and walked down the path without looking back.

* * *

Tom rode the motorbike home at a pace that would have horrified his mother, but even the sudden burst of death-defying speed and power didn't relieve the throbbing tension that had built within him during the evening.

He locked the bike away and let himself into his house, contemplating the undeniable fact that, of all the women he'd been with in his life, Sally Jenner was the only one who had ever held his attention.

But she'd wanted a level of commitment that had unsettled him.

She'd been young and mixed up. Shifted from foster-home to foster-home, searching for security and acceptance. And unconditional love. Someone who wouldn't push her away when the going got tough.

And hadn't he done just that?

He cursed softly, reminding himself that he'd been in an impossible situation.

Sally had been so lonely and unloved that she'd treated him like a lifeline, and he'd known that the only way she was ever going to find confidence, find her place in the world, would be if they parted company. He'd been mature enough to realize how desperate she'd been for some sort of stability in her life, and he'd been afraid that her love for him had been fuelled by a desperation for security.