Chapter Seven #3
‘Olivia,’ he said, making his voice deliberately calm as he didn’t like the look of the wound or the amount of blood she was losing.
‘Don’t move.’ He lifted the bad arm as carefully as he could.
There were tiny specks of glass everywhere.
Pursing his lips, he blew gently over the surface of her skin to try and loosen them.
It didn’t work. He needed something else, something soft.
‘Have you got a make-up brush?’ he asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. ‘Like they use on archaeology digs?’
She stared at him as if he’d gone mad but still didn’t say anything.
‘I don’t want to risk pushing some of these tiny splinters in further.’ He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes with a calm smile trying to get through to her. Was she in shock? To his relief she finally responded.
‘No. Um. Yes, I mean. There.’ She nodded to the dressing table.
With great care, conscious he had no idea whether this was the right thing to do or not, he dusted away the fragments, smearing the minuscule blood spots into little red tears.
Under his fingers he felt her jump slightly and her pulse raced under his thumb.
With a rallying smile, he tried to reassure her but she still looked dazed, so he touched her face as if to check she could still respond.
Her head tilted, exhaling warm breath that brushed his hand.
Awareness punched into his stomach, tightening his groin as he looked at her full, plump lips.
He’d been this close before, kissed her before.
And she didn’t remember a damn thing about it.
That thought hurt like a physical pain making him want to kiss her more than anything else in the world.
Her shoulders shuddered, loosening a thin strap that fell down her arm, pulling her camisole top low. The rise and fall of her chest drew his attention. He wanted to stroke and soothe the skin, ease her breathing, scoop her up and hold her, take away the frozen look in her eyes.
With his girlfriend just next door. Shame slammed into him. What the hell was he thinking? Besides, Olivia didn’t want him, she was in love with someone else.
Abruptly, he put down the brush and holding on to her arm, he lifted the bedcovers away from her legs, dislodging the brick lying on the stained duvet.
‘So that’s what did all the damage.’ He scowled. What if it had hit her head? ‘Let’s get you out of here.’
He helped her off the bed, doing his best to keep his touch impersonal, needing to put some distance between them. She groaned in pain as she put her foot down. A big blue egg was already appearing on her ankle.
‘Shit,’ she said, as it gave way.
He caught her weight and without thinking put his arm around her, his earlier resolution vanishing. His fingers brushed her ribs through the thin fabric and he lifted them as if burnt.
He heard her sharp intake of breath.
‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’ he asked.
‘Mmm,’ she muttered.
As he helped her to hobble through to the lounge, conscious of her warm skin and his fingers skimming underneath her left breast, Emily finally emerged, hovering in the doorway.
‘What happened? What was that noise?’ She clutched her throat like some 1940’s movie star posing in her nightgown. For a brief, puzzling moment it was like looking at a woman he’d never seen before.
‘Someone’s chucked a brick through the window,’ he said, steering Olivia towards the sofa.
He saw the two girls catch each other’s eye. Neither of them said a word. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He stiffened. Funny they weren’t asking more questions, as if they knew more than they were admitting.
‘Emily, get a towel,’ he snapped, as Olivia sank into the cushioned seat. She dithered for a moment. ‘Now.’
She looked hurt but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of whatever game the two of them were playing. ‘And a bowl of warm water and cotton wool or tissues,’ he yelled after her departing back, as Olivia slumped against him.
Her teeth began to chatter and his anger dissolved. Capable, sensible Olivia looked done in, vulnerable and scared, her eyes meeting his and holding his gaze as if her life depended on it. Tonight he needed to focus on getting her to hospital. Tomorrow he’d be asking some questions.
* * *
My teeth began to chatter and I couldn’t stop the tremors shaking my muscles.
There was a trail of crimson drops on the floor.
My eyes were drawn to a wide smear across Daniel’s bare chest. Without thinking I touched the warm skin.
The fine dusting of hair across his chest felt surprisingly soft and I didn’t want to move.
For a second he went still, before putting his hand over mine.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his face softening.
I nodded, a huge lump in my throat.
‘Come on, let’s get you sorted. You need ice on that ankle. Then, I’m afraid it’s a definite Casualty job.’
The blood trickle from my arm slowed and was starting to congeal in an ugly puddle around the embedded glass.
‘I daren’t touch that.’ A gentle finger skirted around the wound as he spoke.
Despite the soreness of my arm, a small fizz of electricity followed his tender tracing. My heart did that funny miss-a-beat thing. Not now, I firmly told myself, staring fixedly down at the glass point. Talk about bad timing.
I sank into a chair. Thank God, Daniel had had the presence of mind to pull on some jeans.
My pulse had speeded up even more at the sight of the smooth muscled abdomen right in front of my nose.
It was rattling along like a runaway train.
I couldn’t help my gaze following the direction of the dark arrow of coarser hair tapering down into the faded denim.
If I didn’t get a grip I was going to have full-scale palpitations.
Emily reappeared, slopping water from a bowl as she hurried over. Her gaze narrowed as it came to rest on Daniel kneeling in front of me.
A timely reminder. Daniel was hers.
He glanced up at her. ‘We need something for Olivia’s ankle — ice, frozen peas?’
Ankle? Forget that. My whole body needed cooling down.
‘Peas. Right,’ she said, shooting off again.
Folding the towel he slipped it under my arm to soak up the worst of the blood.
Gently he dabbed away, as I winced with every stroke.
When he’d finished, he moved closer, crouching between my legs.
Our eyes were level as he gave me a reassuring smile and his warm hand closed over mine, squeezing it comfortingly.
‘I’ll take you to A & E.’
I kept my eyes firmly on his, terrified I was going to give myself away. God, if I so much as looked at his mouth, he’d know.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, forcing myself to think of the mundane. Outside it was dark and I could just hear muffled early morning sounds: a car accelerating a street away, the chink of milk bottles and the distant rattle of a train.
‘Quarter to three,’ said Daniel, his eyes flicking to the clock behind my head. ‘Hopefully Casualty will be quiet. The drunks will have been cleared out. Let me get dressed.’
I settled into the chair, gritting my teeth as the pain began to bite in earnest. Wages of sin.
Served me right for thinking unseemly thoughts.
What was worse? The stinging in my arm, the steady pounding of my bruised ankle or my mind doing a slow-motion replay of when Daniel touched my hand on his chest?
As I closed my eyes, resting my head wearily against the sofa, I was conscious of agitated whispering in Emily’s bedroom.
I winced. She hadn’t seemed very sympathetic to my injuries.
Any second now I expected her to say, ‘She fancies you’.
Instead I heard her hissing, ‘You can’t leave me here on my own. What if they come back?’
‘What? To inspect the damage?’ replied Daniel, his words ringing with scorn.
Then he lowered his voice and I didn’t quite catch what he said next. It sounded like, ‘Probably his wife’.
Raising his voice again, he carried on, ‘If you’re worried, why not ring the police? You’ll have to anyway for insurance. That window will have to be replaced.’
‘Fine,’ said Emily petulantly. ‘Don’t worry about me. You’d better get precious Olivia to hospital.’
* * *
As Daniel’s car pulled into the hospital car park I began to shake again and then I started to cry. Not gentle sniffs and delicate tears — no, they were great, strangled gulps and guttural sobs accompanied by a runny nose. Very unattractive, but I couldn’t help it.
‘Hey, come on, Olivia,’ said Daniel, as he pulled deftly into a parking slot. ‘It’s all right.’
‘S-s-sorry,’ I gasped. ‘I c-c-can’t . . .’
He leaned over, pulling my head onto his chest. Gradually my tears subsided.
I gave my nose an elephant-blow into the pristine white hanky he’d pressed into my hands.
I made the most of the situation and snuggled into his broad chest. I could feel his heart beating, strong and steady under the soft lambswool.
As I grew calmer, he shifted, cupping my chin in his hands to wipe away the tears with his thumbs. Instantly my heart took up a salsa rhythm. Adrenaline rush, I told myself. Just shock. I can handle a 300-bpm heart rate. Deep breaths. That would help.
Unfortunately I over did the breathing and started to hyperventilate. At which point Daniel started stroking my back, his arms around me, as if soothing a highly strung racehorse. The last thing I needed.
It was a relief when he finally opened his car door and said, ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go and get you sorted out.’ From the back seat he pulled out a blanket, which he tucked gently around me.
Sweetheart? Could my heart stand any more havoc? Had he really just called me that?
Calm down, he’s just being kind because you’re injured. If I wasn’t careful I was about to make a terrible fool of myself.