5. CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
C lara clutched the cup of coffee in her hands as she took the first much-needed sip of pure caffeine and sighed with relief. She had managed three hours of sleep and could feel the exhaustion deep into her bones and pulling down under her eyes.
She ran a hand through her shoulder-length brown hair, which stuck up in every direction. Being on call was the worst.
“Morning.” A deep American voice rumbled behind her.
Clara dropped the coffee in shock, spilling it over her hand, down her front and onto the floor.
“Shit.” She put her hand to her chest, pulling the hot material of her pyjama top away from her.
Taylor was across the small room in two steps. “Oh man, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Are you burnt?”
He grabbed her arm, pulled her across to the sink and turned the cold tap on, pushing the hand she had burnt under the running water.
“Shit,” she winced as the cold liquid contacted with her scolded skin, then realised that the heat was spreading across her chest as well. “I need to get out of this shirt.”
She pulled away from him and dashed off along the corridor to her room. As soon as she was through her door, she pulled her pyjama top over her head and made a beeline for the shower.
“Are you going—. I’m so sorry.” Taylor’s shocked voice rang out behind her.
Clara came to an abrupt halt and looked over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway of her room with his hand over his eyes. She threw her arm over her naked chest and ran faster for the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.
“I’ll be fine. I just need to get some cold water onto these burns quickly,” she yelled through the door.
“I’m sorry.” Taylor’s voice was now just on the other side of the door.
“It’s okay.” Clara flicked on the shower and stripped out of her pyjama bottoms.
She was just about to step into the shower when a compulsion overcame her, and she pressed her ear against her bathroom door.
When she heard a tell-tale creak, she called out, “Did you just sit down on my bed?”
She heard the creak again as he leapt back up.
“Sorry,” Taylor called back.
“The burns not bad. I’ll be out in ten minutes. Grab a coffee and help yourself to anything you want from the fridge or pantry.”
“Sure. I’ll see you in the kitchen in a few,” Taylor replied.
Clara stood in the shower until her skin had cooled, trying not to let the fact that Taylor bloody Anderson had just seen her topless freak her out too much.
Why couldn’t it just be a normal man? I mean, that would have been bad enough. But a Hollywood star who was used to the taut and perfect Hollywood women, not a thirty-five-year-old doctor who ate more chocolate than was advisable, most days didn’t manage to eat five different fruits and vegetables, actually if she was being honest, some days she didn’t even manage a token apple. And would benefit from doing some more exercise. She was beyond mortified.
She took a few deep breaths to steal her nerves and got out of the shower. Dried herself off and peered out of her bathroom door to make sure he had left her room, then hurried to her wardrobe to get dressed.
Clara glanced at her bed, noticing the clear indentation and shook her head. Taylor freaking Anderson had sat on her bed. She giggled to herself at the improbability of the situation and took a few more calming breaths before she left her room.
When she got to the kitchen, Taylor was dressed and ready to leave.
“Did you find the coffee and some food?” Clara decided her best approach to the embarrassing situation was to ignore it had happened and carry on like she usually would.
“Yeah. I’ve mainlined six coffees and now feel a bit more like a human again.” He grinned, not his usual movie star smile, designed to be wholesome and appealing. Instead, it was a genuine grin that lit up his whole face.
Clara stood there, blinking at him, a little startled at the attractiveness of the man in front of her. Before she pulled herself together and realised he had a coffee in his hand and had offered it to her.
“I thought you could use this. You didn’t appear to get much of your last one.” He pushed the cup forward.
She froze for a millisecond, recalling him seeing her topless, then shook it off, reached out and took the coffee.
Her fingers brushed his, and she felt a small fission run through her arm. She immediately wrote it off as her being a ridiculous girl in the presence of a movie star.
“Thanks.” She took a large gulp of the drink, grimacing as the hot liquid burnt down her throat.
“What are we doing today?” Taylor took a sip of coffee and looked at her expectantly.
“What?” Her eyes widened, figuring she needed some more caffeine, as she was sure he just implied he was going to spend another day with her.
“What operations are you doing? What sort of thing am I going to learn from you?” he said eagerly.
“Okay. Um, sorry. You’re coming to work with me again? Why?” The words came out more accusingly than she meant them to.
“Oh. I was told I could shadow a doctor for the whole week. I can find someone else if you want.” He trailed off and stared at her.
Clara blushed under the scrutiny of his vivid blue eyes and was about to tell him that he should when she noticed the pleading expression on his face.
“No. It’s fine. I’m happy to take you around again today. We don’t want your cover blown by letting too many people know you’re here.”
He grinned broadly at her agreement, pulled his black-rimmed glasses out of his back pocket and put them on.
“Ah yes, very Clark Kent. Glasses on, Clark Kent. Glasses off, Superman!” she joked as she took another sip of the liquid energy that she would need at least three more of to get through the day.
“Without glasses, I’m Superman?” Taylor queried, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah, kind of. You know. Glasses on, glasses off,” Clara rambled on.
“And you’re not seeing the irony in what you’re saying?” He lifted an eyebrow in question.
“Glasses on, glasses off,” she muttered and then took another sip of her drink as her eyes darted around, trying to work out what he was getting at.
His lips quirked up, and he repeated, “Glasses on, glasses off.”
“Yeah.” She took another sip of her coffee, glancing under her eyelashes at the large man standing in her kitchen.
Her eyebrows pulled together as her brain began functioning with the jolt of caffeine coursing through her veins. Why did his name and Superman seem to go so well together?
She thought back to some of the movies Jack had dragged her to see. There had never been any question about her selecting the film; it was always her ex’s choice.
Actually, now she thought about it, in the entire time they had been together, he had never once let her decide what they saw at the cinema.
Towards the end of their relationship, when she was exhausted by work, study and tiptoeing around him to make sure he didn’t find a reason to blow up at her, she would use the time in the cinema to catch up on a bit of sleep.
Once the movie was done, Jack loved to dissect what they had just watched, and he never noticed that she didn’t have any opinions on the film or just agreed with him. He loved the sound of his own voice, and he held his own opinions above anyone else’s, so to him, it didn’t matter that she often wasn’t even awake.
She remembered the gym regime that Jack had started after they went to see the Superman movie. Jack had been convinced that, with the proper training, he could have the same physique as Superman. She wanted to tell him that a five-foot-ten, naturally skinny bloke would never look like a six-foot-five actor who looked like he could run through a brick wall and bench-press a bus.
Her mind flickered back to the actor who had filled the red and blue suit out so well, an actor, who thoughts of, she had blocked out of her mind, as when Jack had told her his exercise plans, she hadn’t been able to stop a sceptical expression from crossing her face.
She winced as she recalled the blow that had landed on her cheek at her audacity to negatively compare Jack to someone he described as a pansy actor. The black eye he left her with had been hard to cover up with makeup, but somehow, she had managed, and no one had noticed.
The blow meant that even when Jack was long gone from her life when the next Superman film came out, she couldn’t bear to go and see it. She couldn’t bear to be reminded about another low point in her life.
She didn’t realise her hand had strayed to her cheek, absent-mindedly rubbing it as if the blow she received was still fresh. Her eyes flickered back to Taylor’s, and the fog her brain had dropped around that movie to protect her from more horrible memories began to lift.
“Ah, shit.” Realisation washed over Clara.
“There it is.” Taylor began to chuckle in delight, which soon became a full laugh rumbling deep through his chest.
“Shit.” Clara blushed so hard she thought steam might come out of her ears. “And you didn’t just tell me? You let me ramble on for,” she looked down and checked her watch, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe five minutes. Glasses on.” She mimed, putting glasses on her face, “Glasses off.”
Her eyes turned down as she recalled her past again. A past she thought she was over, which unfortunately still occasionally reared its ugly head.
Taylor must have noticed her change in expression and reached out to take her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I meant it to be harmless fun.”
Clara stared at the big hand holding onto hers and revelled in the feeling of another human’s touch, something her isolated life was sorely missing.
“No. It’s not you. I had some…” She paused and cleared her throat. “Bad things were going on in my life when I went to see your movie, and thinking about it brought those memories back.”
She glanced up when she felt his hand tighten on hers and his thumb rub gently over her palm.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was low.
“It’s not your fault. It’s an issue of mine. I never thought it would be a problem, as I never anticipated I would have Superman standing in my kitchen. Which, to be honest, Taylor Anderson, I am still pretty bewildered about.” She shot him a mock, serious look.
Taylor threw his head back laughing and gave her hand another squeeze before he released her fingers.
Clara pulled her hand back, staring down at her unmanicured nails which were short and stubby, and her palms were slightly calloused. She was sure they were a million miles from the salon-perfect hands of the women he usually spent time with.
“If I recall correctly. You were very insistent that I stay at your house.” Taylor was still chuckling.
“It was too far to drive,” she stated flatly, her mind flashing for a second to the horror few weeks after the car accident before she veered her thoughts away from it.
“You were right. I was unconscious the second my head hit the pillow.” His hand reached out towards her, then quickly dropped to his side as a frown played across his face.
Clara glanced down at her watch, swearing, “Shit.” She downed the rest of her coffee and put her cup into the sink. “I’m going to be late. I’m in theatre five today. Come and find me when you arrive. Medical students never get there before eight thirty, so don’t rush. See you later.”
She snatched her keys off the counter and ran for the front door. She had fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, park and get ready for her list to start.