Resisting the New Doc In Town Page 5

  ‘It would be better if we were because then at least I’d know what to wear. I don’t know whether to wear one thing for dinner and then change before we head to the drop-in centre or whether that’s too…girly.’ Bergan pulled the cardigan off as she spoke. ‘You know me. I’m not girly. We used to make fun of girls who used to fuss over themselves before dates,’ Bergan growled. ‘I never thought I’d turn into one of them.’

  ‘You haven’t. I’d love to come and help, but Ruthie’s in the bath and John’s not home from the hospital yet, so instead let me ask you one question.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘What do you usually wear to the drop-in centre?’

  ‘Jeans, flats, T-shirt, light jacket if it’s a coolish evening.’

  ‘So wear that.’

  ‘If I knew what Richard was bringing for dinner, I’d at least be able to gauge the outfit a bit—’

  ‘What does that matter?’ Mackenzie interrupted.

  ‘Because he’s lived in Paris for so long. When we were travelling after finishing medical school, you didn’t spend much time in Paris, but I did, Kenz. I spent three months living there and, believe me, to the French, clothes are an art, along with cuisine. There were certain rules around even the most casual of dinner dates.’

  ‘Ahh…so that’s what has you so flustered, the fact that this is a date. Now it all makes sense.’

  ‘It’s not a date date. It’s a friendship date.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  Bergan shook her head and slumped down onto her bed, lying across the large pile of discarded clothes and not caring. ‘I haven’t been on any sort of date in a very long time, Kenz. You know why.’

  ‘I do, and I think you’re incredibly brave, Bergan. In accepting this as a date, you’re refusing to tar all men with the same brush and that’s a big step forward.’

  Bergan closed her eyes. ‘Even though it was so long ago, it still—’

  ‘I know. You’ve come so far and you’re so brave and you do amazing work at the drop-in centre because you know exactly where those kids are coming from. Focus on that, and the fact that Richard wants to help.’

  ‘He did seem keen.’

  ‘All you’re doing is putting food into your stomachs before you go out to help others.’

  Bergan opened her eyes and sat up, nodding. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘What am I fussing about?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘It’s a date…between friends.’

  ‘No reason to stress,’ Mackenzie agreed.

  ‘Then why can I hear that smile in your words?’ Bergan shook her head. ‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’

  ‘All I can say is—it happens to the best of us.’

  ‘What does that mea—?’ The doorbell downstairs sounded and Bergan jumped up from the bed. ‘He’s here. He’s here!’

  ‘Then go.’

  ‘Yes. Good. OK. Love you. ’Bye.’ Bergan disconnected the call and quickly reached for her usual jeans and T-shirt combo, pulling them on in a hurried rush, before shoving her feet into a pair of black flats. She glanced once at her reflection, realising her loose hair was a tangled mess, and quickly pulled her fingers through the auburn locks as she raced down the stairs.

  ‘Ow,’ she said a moment before opening the front door.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Richard asked as he stepped into the house, two brown paper bags filled with containers in his arms. Bergan closed the door behind him.

  ‘Just knots in my hair,’ she offered by way of explanation. ‘A common problem. Come on through. Something smells good.’

  Richard found he was having trouble moving as he stared at the glorious sight of the woman before him. Dressed casually and yet comfortably, she looked so different from the professional woman he’d worked alongside for the past two days, but he had to admit it was her long, glorious auburn locks that had made his mouth go dry and his brain refuse to function.

  Now that it was loose, it was far longer than he’d realised, reaching almost to her waist, the colour vibrant and shiny. He wanted nothing more than to reach out his hand and run his fingers through the silky locks, letting them sift through his hand with a tingling delight.

  ‘Richard?’

  He forced himself to blink, to move, to do something as he belatedly realised he was just standing there, holding bags of food and staring at her.

  ‘Sorry.’ He followed her towards the dining room, where she’d set a basic table. As she walked, he noted the way her hair swished from side to side, a variety of colours—golds, reds and oranges—picked up by the overhead ceiling lights. ‘Wow.’ The whispered word was ripped from him before he could stop it.

  ‘What?’ She looked at the dining table then back at him, her eyes widening as she realised he was staring at her.

  Richard shook his head. He was behaving like an adolescent schoolboy. He quickly placed the bags of food on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You look…amazing.’

  Bergan looked down at the plain and simple clothes she was wearing. ‘Really?’

  ‘Uh…’ He pointed at her, indicating her hair, feeling more and more like a stunned idiot with each passing second. ‘I haven’t seen your hair loose before.’ Richard cleared his throat. ‘It’s… Wow.’

  ‘Oh.’ She instantly ran her fingers through the tresses, finding a few more knots, but unable to believe how his words had warmed her heart. What a nice thing to say. ‘Well, thank you for the compliment.’ Feeling self-conscious, she began fussing around with the bags of food, pulling containers out and setting them on the wooden table. ‘Asian. Excellent. Do you want to eat with chopsticks?’ She turned and began rummaging in a drawer in the sideboard.

  ‘I think there are some disposable ones in the bag,’ Richard said, after clearing his throat and giving his brain a bit of a jump-start.

  ‘OK.’ Feeling more and more like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, Bergan tried to think of what else she could do to keep her hands busy and her thoughts off the way Richard was making her feel. She closed the drawer and linked her hands together, hoping that by holding them it would stop them from trembling. ‘What would you like to drink? I’m sorry, I don’t have any wine. I probably should have thought to buy some for you as actually I don’t drink alcohol.’

  ‘At all?’ He seemed surprised by that.

  ‘No.’

  ‘There’s a reason behind that.’

  ‘Of course there is,’ she said, heading into the kitchen to collect a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. Once there, she closed her eyes and took three long and steadying breaths. It was imperative that she stopped behaving like an adolescent and started behaving like the intelligent woman she was. They were just eating food before going to the drop-in centre. That was all.

  Feeling calmer, she returned with the bottle of drink and decided to lighten the mood presently surrounding them.

  ‘Monsieur?’ she asked, holding the bottle out to him as though she were a waiter asking the customer to check the vintage on a nice bottle of red.

  ‘Oui, mademoiselle. Très bien, merci.’

  With a smile she came round the table, opened the bottle and poured some into the glasses on the table. ‘Even if I did drink, I would never drink any alcohol before heading to the drop-in centre. A lot of the kids who come there are battling addictions to alcohol, as well as other substances, and it’s hardly fair for them to smell liquor on my breath while I’m talking to them.’

  ‘Fair point.’ He picked up his glass and held it out to her. ‘A toast?’

  Bergan acquiesced and picked up her own glass, waiting for him to speak.

  ‘To being back on home soil—even if it is for a short time—and to making new friends.’

  ‘New friends,’ she repeated, and couldn’t help but smile as she chinked her glass with his before both of them took a sip.
/>
  ‘Let’s eat,’ he said, and after sitting down they opened up the different containers, spooning the delicious food out onto their plates.

  ‘How was your first lecture today? I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it, but I had a meeting with the hospital’s CEO and I’d already changed it twice.’

  Richard shrugged one shoulder. ‘It went OK, I think.’

  ‘Modest, eh? I heard there were people standing around the walls at the back of the lecture hall because there were no seats free.’

  ‘I think everyone’s more interested in checking out the new guy rather than what I have to say.’

  ‘There’s that modesty again. Do you enjoy lecturing?’

  ‘I do, especially when what I’m relaying is new and exciting information on different techniques or advances in treatment plans.’

  ‘It must be a little discombobulating—travelling all year long, fighting jet lag…’ She smiled pointedly at him. ‘Not to mention the language difficulties you must have faced.’

  ‘You mean giving instructions in French?’ He chuckled. ‘Usually, I’m assigned a medical interpreter so that does make things much easier.’ He swallowed his mouthful and took a sip of his drink before leaning his elbows on the table. ‘OK. My turn to ask a question. Why don’t you drink alcohol?’

  Bergan had just put some food into her mouth when he asked the question and she simply stared at him as she slowly withdrew the chopsticks from her lips. She chewed slowly, as though considering his question, but she was really wondering just what she felt comfortable telling him. The truth? How would he handle that?

  She finally swallowed her mouthful and took a sip from her glass. ‘Guess,’ she said, as she placed her chopsticks on the side of her plate and crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘A challenge. OK.’ Richard nodded, pleased she hadn’t shut him out. He quickly thought back over things she’d said since they’d met, pondering the way she’d been able to connect with Drak at the Moon Lantern festival and how she’d mentioned it wasn’t fair for teens to smell alcohol on someone else’s breath when they were battling an addiction.

  ‘Teenage drunk?’

  ‘Got it in one. I was a bad one, too.’ She looked away from him and toyed with her chopsticks for a moment. Richard remained silent, watching the internal struggle taking place. Would she open up to him? Be honest with him? He’d told her the other day that he believed honesty to be the best policy, but whether or not she’d believed him was another matter. Now he hoped she did, hoped she’d take a chance and continue with what she’d been about to say.

  Bergan consciously made herself stop fiddling with the chopsticks and calmly placed her hands in her lap and when she lifted her head, bravely meeting his gaze, her voice was clear and matter-of-fact.

  ‘Three days after I turned fourteen I drank myself unconscious. I’d swiped a bottle of Scotch from my foster-father’s liquor cabinet and had a party for one.’

  Richard made a point of trying not to change his facial expression at this news. He’d seen first-hand, in many different A and E departments around the world, just how dangerous it could be for young teenagers to have that amount of alcohol in their systems. He listened intently as she continued.

  ‘I drank myself unconscious.’ She repeated the words slowly, a sad look in her eyes. ‘I must have regained consciousness at some point and left the house. It’s little wonder I didn’t get hit by a passing car, but in the morning I woke up in some strange boy’s bed, without a clue how I’d got there or what had happened.’

  Richard swallowed, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. ‘And the foster-father?’

  Bergan pulled her loose hair back from her face, holding it suspended in her hands for a moment before allowing the glorious tresses to fall back into place. ‘He gave me the beating I deserved for stealing his booze.’

  Richard looked away from her then and shook his head. Not at what had happened to her in the past, but that her life had been that miserable that she’d ended up in such a dark place, at such a young and vulnerable age. What else had happened to her? Especially in such an environment? He could hazard a good guess and it wasn’t at all pretty. It also explained why she had a problem with dating and trusting men.

  ‘I have a lot of baggage, Richard.’ Again her words were matter-of-fact, as though she was trying to be strong and completely detached from her past. Why had he shaken his head? Had she completely turned him off? Wasn’t that a good thing? She hadn’t really wanted his interest in the first place so now that he knew the truth, he’d no doubt see the rest of the evening through and then their relationship could go back to being nice and professional.

  ‘So I’m beginning to realise.’

  Bergan clenched her jaw to stop the sudden pang of pain at his words. To think about scaring him off was one thing, but to actually hear him admit it was gut-wrenching. She knew it was better he left her life sooner rather than later, but deep down, in that small part of her that was still a scared little girl, she had hoped Richard might prove different from the other men she’d known, that he might be the man to help rescue her from the insecurities she’d buried so very deep.

  She looked away from him, focusing on her glass, reaching out her hand to touch the inanimate object, focusing on its coolness rather than the fact that Richard might just get up and walk from the room without another word.

  Richard put his own chopsticks down and leaned one elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. After his mother’s words earlier he hadn’t been at all sure what he might uncover about Bergan, but now all he could do was gaze at her with awe and admiration. He’d always liked to surround himself with people who were strong, who were able to overcome adversity.

  Not only had Bergan managed that, but given her work at the drop-in centre, she was also willing to share her experiences, her thoughts and her emotions with teens who might find themselves in a similar position as she’d once been. That took a hefty amount of inner strength and a tonne of courage.

  ‘And look at you now,’ he continued, his rich tones washing over her. She raised her surprised gaze to his.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re a successful doctor in a busy A and E department, but also spend a lot of your spare time reaching out to help kids who are in similar circumstances.’ Richard leaned across the table and took her hand in his, holding it firmly as he continued to look her directly in the eyes, his blue gaze melding with her honey-brown one. ‘You are quite an amazing woman, Bergan Moncrief, and I for one relish the challenge of getting to know you better. Much better.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BERGAN WASN’T SURE exactly how she managed to keep control of the rioting emotions zipping through her body as she sat near Richard, staring into his hypnotic blue eyes. Where she’d thought he’d high-tail it out of her house as fast as possible, he’d completely surprised her by doing the opposite!

  He was so different from every other man she’d met, and where, over the years, she’d thought that no man could ever surprise her again, Richard Allington was proving her wrong. Although she’d only known him a few days, he was definitely intriguing her, making her want to know more about him. The fact that she also found him incredibly handsome was both good and bad.

  The way he looked at her, smiled at her, winked at her had the ability to set her body on fire. The fact that he could do that so easily brought with it a mountain of confusion and indecision. Should she even risk thinking about the possibility of something other than friendship existing between them in the future? Was that what he wanted or was she just someone to play with, a distraction to fill the hours when he wasn’t at the hospital? Had he found a different woman in every country he’d visited?

  There were just too many questions, too many unknowns, but even if she pushed them all aside, there was still one question she couldn’t figure out—where had her self-control gone? She needed to figure out what it was about Richard that was wre
aking such havoc inside her, and to do that she needed to be close to him, to spend time with him.

  An experiment, a research project. That’s what she needed to make it. She would treat this unwanted attraction towards him with all the same drive and attention she’d given to her medical research projects over the years. Doing research and conducting studies would help her to gain control over her senses and after that she’d be able to treat Richard like any other man of her acquaintance—with indifference.

  She knew he would have plenty of flaws. All men did, and the sooner she discovered them, the sooner she could put him out of her mind and get on with her life. Four weeks. He was only here for four weeks and then he would disappear back to where he’d come from. It also meant, if she was determined to get to the bottom of this internal dilemma, that she would need to consciously spend more time with him…all in the name of research, of course.

  Therefore, with clarity and logic starting to return, Bergan was able to finish her dinner, finding it was easier to gloss over what he’d said—that he was interested in getting to know her much better—and keep up a steady stream of conversation, mainly about the hospital and the drop-in centre. Thankfully, Richard had allowed her to chatter away, releasing her hand from his, leaving it tingling from his smooth, warm touch.

  They’d been able to finish their meal and then get ready to head into the drop-in centre, but the moment they entered her car, Bergan once again became incredibly conscious of his closeness as he sat beside her in the passenger seat. Keep it light, Bergan. It’s just an experiment. Nothing more.

  Richard smoothed his hand over the soft leather seats and smiled. ‘I had a car just like this, but in black.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Before I left Paris.’

  ‘You had a car in Paris? I didn’t think that was the done thing. Everyone does a lot of walking in Paris, mainly because to drive in the traffic is bedlam.’

  ‘So you have been there?’

  ‘To Paris? Oui, monsieur,’ she teased.

  ‘I thought so. Generally, people can learn to speak French from a tutor, but to really speak French—proper French,’ he added, ‘it’s best to stay in Paris for a while.’