They’d spent the car ride in silence. Lucy had busied herself scrolling through her phone while Jackson had grumbled about pretty much every other driver in the morning traffic.

  Now they were sitting in his car in the staff parking area, drive-through coffees in hand, neither making a move to leave.

  She felt his hand cover hers. They moved closer in the car, his hand still holding hers.

  ‘You look a little tired,’ she murmured. He looked away, focusing on their entwined hands. She followed his gaze and, despite herself, gave him a little squeeze with her fingers. ‘I slept like a baby,’ he eventually offered. His eyes found hers again, his brows furrowing a little. ‘I was a little worried about you, though. I’ve never seen you like that. It was worse than the panic attack before. What was on your mind?’

  ‘Just a bad dream—the Jeffersons yesterday...’

  ‘Definitely a baptism by fire,’ he replied softly. ‘It got to me too.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ she assured him. ‘After a bit of sleep and coffee. It’s all good.’

  She saw his face change, relax, and felt the relief flowing through him.

  He’s relieved it’s not about him. He doesn’t feel this tension, she thought.

  The pang was unexpected. Her shields jolted to life. ‘I’m not made of stone, Jackson. I know I’m difficult at times, I push things down, but I’m a wreck too.’ She nudged her head towards the building before them. ‘I’ve been looking forward to work, to getting back to some kind of reality. Moving, Zoe...everything’s been so different, hasn’t it? I thought it would feel easier, coming here—comfortable—but I feel sick about it.’ If he wasn’t going to talk about them spending the night together, then neither was she.

  ‘I get it, more than you know. I love having you both at home. I know it’s been tough, and sad, but I like having you two to come home to. You’re not as prickly as you think, you know.’

  Her smile was genuine then; she felt his words wash over her and her heart swelled. It was a strange feeling, but one that was happening more and more. The more she was around him at their house, looking after Zoe, fighting over the remote, it felt sort of...nice...and sexy.

  Confusing! You mean confusing.

  She’d fallen asleep listening to his heart beating; that had been more than sexy. It had been...more than a long-buried sexual frisson.

  ‘I like it too.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she told him earnestly. ‘I don’t think I would have coped on my own. I like being home with you both. It feels...normal almost, or it’s starting to feel that way.’

  His thumb started to move up and down the skin on the back of her hand, slow circles that made her nerve endings sing.

  ‘I’m not as bad as you thought, eh?’

  His tone was teasing, but it didn’t make her her blood boil as it usually did. In fact, it made her feel a heat she’d never expected to feel. For ever: those words in his gravelly voice kept playing on repeat in her head.

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Not at all.’ He was closer now; their faces had gravitated together. She could smell his aftershave, the one she had grown accustomed to in the bathroom they shared, on his skin. Heck, on her sheets now. It was all around her.

  ‘You’re not so bad either.’ He breathed, his eyes falling to her lips. She licked them, feeling the air change in the car and dry out around them. ‘Luce, about last night. Do you want to...?’

  Her mobile rang out and they both jumped. The spell broken, she went to get it and saw the time on the dashboard.

  ‘We’d better get in,’ she told him. ‘I bet that’s work.’ She was desperate to hear what he was going to say but, either way he went, it felt as if pain wasn’t far behind. If he felt it too, so what? He and Zoe were all she had left. If it failed, it would be unbearable.

  Even less bearable than knowing what could be, and not having it.

  ‘Listen, thanks for last night.’ She licked her lips again, which had gone bone-dry. ‘For being there...you know, for my panic attack. It...well, it won’t happen again, I’m sure.’ There it was—an out wrapped in an apologetic thank you.

  When she looked at him again, he was running his hands through his hair, an odd expression on his face.

  ‘Yeah, of course.’ He huffed, picking up their coffees. ‘If you’re sure, let’s go.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  JACKSON DIDN’T TAKE a full breath until he got to the locker room to change into his scrubs.

  What the hell was that?

  Lucy had been on the phone on the walk in, giving him a coy little wave before dashing off to her department. His heart was still beating hard in his chest. A bit like the night before, when he’d lain in her bed listening to her soft little breaths as she’d slept against his bare chest. He’d lain there in the dark, cradling her and wishing he knew what was going on in that feisty, stubborn head. He’d been torn between wanting to wake her to ask if she felt a fraction of what he did and willing the sun not to rise so they could stay like that for ever.

  It was harder to brush off how he felt about someone when he were in close proximity all the time. His toothbrush sat next to hers in the bathroom but she still felt like a stranger sometimes. They’d held hands until she’d woken up and shut herself away from him again, behind the snakes that had slumbered soundly in his embrace hours earlier. If he didn’t know better, he and Lucy Bakewell, tormentor and tormentee, had just had a moment—a big moment. On top of many moments they’d had over the last few weeks. If that phone hadn’t rung, he’d have finished that sentence.

  What the hell are you thinking?

  He knew what he’d been thinking. What he’d been thinking was that he wanted to ask Lucy out to dinner. He wanted to crack open those shields of hers and have her willing to let him in.

  If he was honest with himself, having her at his house, their house, had been good. Since Ronnie had passed, he’d had to stop himself from feeling like it was a gift. He’d liked having her around. He fancied her, big time. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever met before, or since. She’d shot him in the nether regions on their very first encounter, and when he’d tackled her about it she’d riled him up in more ways than one.

  After that day, when his pride was hurt, when it became obvious that not only did she not see him as a love interest but a rival, he’d forgotten about it. He shouldn’t have entertained the thought anyway. He’d expected to meet the sister of the woman Ronnie was dating. He’d never expected to see her any other way. He shouldn’t have, but he was addicted. He enjoyed the banter, the feelings she evoked within him when they locked horns. Then he’d become part of her world, her family, and it hadn’t been possible. He’d brushed it off as a passing fancy, something not meant to be. The way it was possible to fancy someone one minute, and then realise it wasn’t attraction at all, or something that might turn into something that would last longer than an angry, sexy, frantic screw.

  He’d dated, but no one seemed to measure up. He’d thought it just wasn’t his time. There’d been no deadline to meet. Then Ronnie and Harriet had passed, and he’d thought that was why they’d met. It was part of a cosmic plan somehow. He was meant to be there to raise Zoe, stop her being alone in the world—his brother’s last wish. Lucy had just been part of the deal, and he was okay with that. Ronnie had known he could handle it, and Harriet too. He seemed to be the only one who wasn’t terrified of her, who didn’t step away when she pushed.

  They pushed each other and made the other feel alive, passionate. The second he’d touched her hand, he’d known co-parenting wasn’t the full story. This feeling wasn’t a by-product of being so closely connected, or the grief. It was a primal need to have this woman. She was his. He was hooked, and he didn’t even realise when his cravings had started. If her phone hadn’t gone off, he’d have asked her out, told her he wanted to talk about last night.

  Which couldn’t happen, obviously. He thought he’d been more than a comfort blanket, but it was all in his addled head. They were raising a kid together, working together. If he stuffed this up, made things awkward when they were just starting to get on, when she was just starting to let him in, it would ruin everything. They had to solidify this arrangement in a few short months. Even acknowledging the logic of it all, he couldn’t quite quell the irritation he felt. Maybe he should have got a clue when she’d been worried about people finding out about their new situation.

  He was pulling on his scrub top when Dr Josh Fillion walked in, the doctor filling Ronnie’s job. Jackson had exchanged a few emails with him, and had had an online meeting while he’d been off to get the guy up to speed on the way he ran his department. From what he’d been told by his staff, Josh was doing a pretty good job.

  ‘Hey, man, first week back? Sorry I missed you yesterday—day off.’

  ‘Yep.’ He clipped his ID to his uniform. ‘Everything still standing, that’s a good start. Settling in okay?’

  Josh immediately launched into what was going on and what patients they’d had in. Taking his wallet and keys from his pockets, stashing them in his locker, Jackson listened while he checked his phone. On the screensaver was a photo of Lucy and Zoe. He’d taken it when she hadn’t been looking, at the local park near his house. Lucy had taken Zoe down the big slide. They were both laughing, faces happy, full of fun. He dashed off an action snap as they’d zoomed down the steel slope. It had been a good afternoon, carefree.

  ‘That your daughter? She’s cute.’ Josh cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He thought of Lucy, and decided, for now, work was work. Perhaps the more separate they kept things, the less likely he’d be to lose his damn mind.

  ‘Er...yeah.’ Jackson click-locked the phone, turning the screen black. ‘I’d better get out there.’

  ‘Sure, see you in a minute,’ Josh replied, turning to his locker—Ronnie’s old locker. Jackson had cleaned Ronnie’s stuff out himself and taken it home. He knew it wasn’t his any more, but it still hit hard, as if Ronnie had never been there. He pushed his way out of the door, suddenly finding the air thin.

  He could see some of his staff at the nurses’ station; they all stopped when they saw him approaching. Steeling himself, he shot them a strong smile he didn’t feel.

  I should have addressed this yesterday.

  They didn’t know how to act around him.

  ‘Hey, everyone,’ he addressed them together. ‘I know you all probably have things you want to say. I spoke to some of you yesterday but, since most of us are here, I’d just like to say thanks for covering, and for all the cards and stuff for Zoe, but I’d like to concentrate on the work now.’

  Their faces all had the same expressions: pity, sorrow, understanding. A few nodded, and he was grateful more than ever for the team he had under him. ‘I know we all miss Ronnie, but he’d want us to carry on, kicking butt and saving lives.’ He folded his arms, holding himself together when he felt as if he might come apart. The wave of grief crashed against his sand walls. ‘That okay with everyone?’

  One of the nurses spoke first. ‘Hell, yeah.’ He nodded. ‘For Ronnie, guys.’

  He could tell the rest of them were on board. A couple wiped at tears.

  ‘For Ronnie,’ he echoed. ‘Let’s save some lives, eh, people?’

  As his team got back to work, and he headed to his first patient of the day, he wondered if Lucy was okay. He’d check on her later and see if she wanted to grab lunch. If this was all that being in her life was going to be, he’d just have to take what he could get.

  * * *

  ‘It’s okay, Emma. Just a little scratch.’ The flushed seven-year-old made a little whimper as the nurse inserted the cannula. Lucy was standing at the other side of her bed, holding her hand and keeping her steady. She had a pretty nasty infection. If her mother hadn’t brought her in when she had, it could have been a lot worse. Sepsis worked fast, but it had been caught early, and getting fluids into her would help, alongside antibiotics.

  Emma nodded from under her oxygen mask. Her breathing had been shallow when she’d arrived, a bad chest infection causing an asthma attack. Lucy had seen it a hundred times, but watching a child struggle for breath was tough.

  ‘That’s it, all done! It might just feel a little cold down your arm for a minute, and then you should feel a little better.’

  ‘Thank you,’ her mother said from the back of the cubicle. ‘She couldn’t breathe in the car; I was so scared we wouldn’t get here in time.’

  Lucy turned to her. ‘You got her here, and she’s going to be fine. We’ll keep her overnight, monitor her, but she’s doing great. Her oxygen levels have improved already. We’ll keep her on high-flow O2 for now till they increase over ninety percent. The liquid steroids we gave her act fast, and the fluids on IV will help to hydrate her.

  ‘Emma,’ she said gently. ‘I need you to be really careful with your hand here, okay? Be careful not to pull the wires.’

  She read through her notes again. ‘So, your GP diagnosed asthma at four?’ Her mother nodded. ‘How is she doing with the inhalers? Did he explain about using them with the spacer and mask?’

  ‘I don’t like my spacer,’ Emma’s muffled voice retorted from under the mask covering her nose and mouth. ‘It smells funny.’

  ‘She doesn’t like doing it.’ Her mother blushed. ‘I try my best, but...’

  Lucy nodded gently. ‘I’ll tell you what, Emma, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a couple of new spacers with some masks attached and we’ll see if they are any better. That medicine is boring, I know, having to do it every day, but it helps your lungs to work better. Especially when you get a nasty cold.’

  ‘You’ve been great, the A&E doctor too. He came running over to us when we got to the main doors. He just picked her up and carried her to a bed. Will you be able to thank him for us?’

  ‘Sure, did you get his name?’

  The mother looked pained. ‘Oh, gosh, you know—I didn’t. He was very tall, though—huge, actually.’

  Lucy continued marking up the patient file, but she felt the smirk creeping out.

  ‘I know who you mean. I’ll pass on your thanks.’

  Leaving the cubicle, she pulled out her phone.

  Heard you’ve been all heroic this morning, carrying damsels in distress.

  It pinged seconds later.

  Just an average Wednesday. You eaten lunch yet?

  Nope. Thought I would just grab something quick later.

  ’K. I’ll be in the canteen at one if you fancy it. Lunch, I mean.

  Lucy’s eyes bugged out when she saw his reply. They’d never eaten together without Ronnie...and with a side of innuendo? She began to type back.

  Pretty busy... *delete*

  No time...*delete*

  Maybe... *delete*

  Your chest makes the best pillow... *delete*

  I like what your thumb did in the car...*delete*delete*

  Do you feel anyt...? *delete*delete*delete*

  What am I? Twelve?

  She tapped the phone against her lip, wondering what the heck was going on. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly Jackson wasn’t maddening, frustrating Dr Denning any more. Well, he was, but he was also the guy who’d held her tightly last night while she’d fallen asleep. The guy who always bought her favourite snacks from the supermarket without being asked. The huge, sexy guy who read to Zoe and make her laugh when he did the voices for all the characters. The guy who she shared a kitchen with, who whipped up more than omelettes in low-slung PJ bottoms and a bare chest she now preferred to any pillow she owned.

  When they’d first started working together, she’d gone to bed particularly wound up about one of their little work disagreements and had eaten half a cheesecake before bed. She’d blamed the cheese, of course, but she’d woken up that night horny and sweaty, half-wishing it had been real. The next time it had happened, she hadn’t been able to blame the dairy.

  Now he was sleeping across the landing from her every night, looking all sexy in the morning in his PJ bottoms, that sexy line of dark hair disappearing under the waistband. How on earth was she supposed to bear the space across the landing now that she had the scent of him on her duvet? Something told her the cold showers and sex dreams were going to increase tenfold.

  His chest. Man, his chest.

  She got it now: the cliché of a body being sculpted from marble. Now she had to sit across the island from him with that chiselled temptation. All this craziness wasn’t good for the environment.

  How could she go for lunch with him, when little freaky moments like that popped into her head? Zoe needed two parents, no matter what. She had to focus on that, and work; nothing else.

  That call this morning, breaking up their moment in the car, bothered her. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he had been about to say. Whether, if she knew, she’d be glad of the knowledge. She’d shut it down anyway, but the look on his face... It couldn’t all be in her head. Surely two people would have to feel the chemistry between them, whether they wanted to or not?

  The screensaver on her phone had come on, and she saw Jackson smiling back at her. It was a candid shot she’d taken on the sofa one night. She’d gone to clean the kitchen after he’d made dinner and bathed Zoe. She’d put the dishwasher on for the fourth time that day and had taken a bottle of wine into the lounge. They’d got into the habit of watching a TV series together, a glass of red as a reward for a busy day toddler-wrangling and sorting out the properties and paperwork of their new life.

  She’d found them both asleep on the couch, Zoe laid on his chest in her little bunny onesie. Her freshly washed curls were fluffed up, her little face content. He had his arms around her, his head back, mouth wide open. She’d snapped it to tease him later, but when she’d looked at the image she’d made it her lock-screen photo instead.