The Family She's Longed For Page 4

  ‘So you’re really going to be working here?’ Her words were barely a whisper.

  He edged a little closer to her. ‘Afraid so.’

  His breath fanned her neck. She could feel her body respond to his closeness, even though he wasn’t touching her. Clara tried to control not only her breathing but her wayward emotions as well. How was it that whenever he got within coo-ee of her, every sense went on alert, every fibre of her being became attuned to his every move.

  ‘You’ve cut your hair,’ he stated, his voice still soft. ‘The last time I saw you it was almost down to your waist.’

  ‘It needed cutting.’

  ‘It looks good shoulder-length. Professional.’

  Clara fought against his deep, sensual tone. It washed over her like silk, making her feel vulnerable.

  ‘I’ve always loved the colour. Rich, dark brown—to match your eyes.’

  Clara sucked in her breath at his words. Her whole body seemed to be tingling with awareness at his close proximity. Although he wasn’t touching her, she could feel the warmth his body exuded and it enveloped her like a glove. How was it that after all this time—after all the therapy she’d undergone both physically and emotionally—he could still affect her in such a way? Did she really have no self-control where he was concerned?

  ‘Clara!’

  A female voice called from the distance, breaking the small bubble surrounding herself and Virgil. Clara almost spilt the coffees at hearing Jane’s voice.

  ‘Quick, open the door,’ she stated.

  He rested his hand on the doorknob, but paused. ‘Do you have patients now?’

  ‘Yes—and you’ve just completely ruined the only ten minutes I’ve had to myself all day.’

  ‘Are you free for dinner tonight?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tomorrow night?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But we need to talk, Clara. We need to sort things out.’

  ‘Will you please just open the door?’

  ‘The next night?’

  ‘Yes. Just open the door!’

  With a goofy grin at her acceptance, he opened the door just in time for Clara to see Jane walking towards the kitchenette.

  ‘I knew you’d get sidetracked,’ her receptionist said. ‘Mrs Holden’s here.’

  Without seeing Virgil on the other side of the kitchenette door, Jane took the coffee Clara had made and immediately took a sip.

  ‘If you don’t hustle, you’ll be running late,’ Jane remarked as she turned and headed back the way she’d come.

  Clara looked up at Virgil in disdain. ‘That was a dirty trick and there’s no way you can hold me to that acceptance.’

  ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘No, you can’t. Agreeing to have dinner with you was the only way I could get you to open the door. Desperate times sometimes call for desperate measures.’

  ‘I completely agree—which is why I had to trap you into dining with me.’

  ‘Aha! So you admit it was a trap.’

  Virgil smiled widely at her words. ‘I’ve missed this, Clara. This crazy banter we used to share.’

  And so had she, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

  ‘Please—have dinner with me some time before I officially start next Monday. Sunday night would be good for me, if it’s good for you.’

  Sighing, she knew she wasn’t going to get her Friday afternoon clinic done unless she agreed. ‘Fine. Sunday night.’

  ‘I’ll email you the details.’

  ‘OK. My email address is—’

  ‘I have a list of everyone’s email here at the Specialist Centre,’ he told her, then took her free hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft and sweet kiss to her knuckles. ‘Until Sunday.’

  ‘Ugh!’ She jerked her hand free and rolled her eyes at his corny action, then headed towards her consulting room.

  She made sure she walked in a calm and controlled manner down the corridor, once again feeling his gaze watching her movements. The effects from that gentle kiss on her hand had sent a wave of wildfire spreading throughout her body. It had to be wrong that she was still this attracted to him, right?

  Placing the now lukewarm coffee on her desk, she looked at the melted bowl of ice-cream and fudge. That was exactly how she felt. Once upon a time she’d been the most important person in Virgil’s life. Then visions of being the best in his profession, of working all the time and spending little or no time with the people who mattered most, had become his main focus. And she’d been discarded—shoved aside as though she were nothing but a distant memory.

  ‘Why did he have to come back?’

  The question was spoken to her empty consulting room, the words filled with pain from the past and desperation for the future. If he’d affected her this strongly just by being in the small kitchenette with her, how on earth was she supposed to cope dining with him on Sunday evening?

  What she needed to do was to prescribe herself a healthy dose of living in the present and ignoring the past—and a double dose of self-preservation.

  CHAPTER THREE

  VIRGIL SAT ON his bed on Sunday evening, amazed at how nervous he was about actually sitting down to talk to Clara face to face. They’d been friends for such a long time during medical school—studying together and buoying each other up, especially around exam time. Several times they’d discussed whether or not they should change the nature of their relationship.

  ‘If we do that,’ Clara had rationalised once, ‘if we become more than friends, what happens if we have a fight? I need you to help me through these next few years, Virgil. You’re my study partner, my lab partner, my cheer team—just as I’m yours.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he’d agreed. ‘That’s far more important at the moment.’

  ‘And, besides, who knows what might happen if we change the dynamic? What if we don’t like kissing each other?’

  ‘We’re only going to find out if we try,’ he’d encouraged, too embarrassed to tell her how he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. They were friends, and he hadn’t wanted to ruin that friendship by taking their relationship to the next level.

  They’d been sitting in one of the back corners of the Loggeen City Library, studying for a coming practical exam. Several medical texts had been scattered between the two of them, and Virgil had been leaning on the table, his elbow almost knocking one of the books off as he propped up his head.

  Clara had stared at him for a moment, looking severely tempted. And after a long moment of contemplation, of staring longingly at each other’s mouths, wondering and wishing, it had been Clara who had broken the tension surrounding them, shaking her head and tapping the text in front of him.

  ‘Let’s just focus on learning the anatomy of the abdomen, so when we dissect the cadaver we actually know what we’re doing.’

  And that had been the end of the discussion—until the next time the subject had arisen. The following time it had been his turn to be the strong one and again insist that they remain friends.

  ‘At least until medical school is over and done with.’

  When they had finally been done with studying, he wasn’t sure who had been more surprised—himself or Clara—at the way they’d congratulated each other, wrapping their arms around each other, their lips melding in perfect synchronicity.

  ‘Oh, it’s there,’ he’d breathed triumphantly against her lips. ‘I knew it would be.’

  ‘Shut up and kiss me,’ she’d ordered, and he’d willingly complied.

  Now, raking a hand through his hair, Virgil exhaled and stood, walking over to the tallboy in his bedroom, which was adorned with framed photographs of his daughter. He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a bundle of other photographs from the back—photogr
aphs of himself and Clara. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid in most of them, although there were one or two where her hair was loose. He’d always loved to run his fingers through those gorgeous locks.

  He flicked through the photos, and stopped at what had been the last photo of them taken together. They’d been attending a fundraising dinner for the Melbourne General Hospital’s cancer centre. A professional photographer had taken their picture at the table. Even though they’d pasted on their smiles, looking at Clara now, he could see just how unhappy he’d made her.

  ‘This has been going on for months,’ she’d told him earlier that night. ‘You’re always at the hospital—even when you don’t need to be. If you don’t slow down you’re going to end up sick from exhaustion.’

  ‘Just because you don’t have any desire to specialise, and are more than happy to be a GP for the rest of your life, it doesn’t mean you should criticise me for chasing my dreams. I want to be a general surgeon. Do you know how difficult it is to get onto the training programme, Clara? I’ve managed that after only doing one year as a service registrar. One year.’

  He’d spread his arms wide.

  ‘And now I’ve been accepted to go and train overseas for the next twelve months—again, for a first-year registrar that is almost unheard of, and yet they’ve chosen me.’

  ‘I’m very happy for you, but—’

  ‘Are you? Or are you completely jealous of my success?’

  He’d fixed her with a stare that had indicated he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of her mouth, because as far as he had been concerned, she was the biggest liability in his career plan.

  ‘Perhaps it’s best if we take a break from each other while I’m overseas. I think you were right all those years ago when we were in medical school—we should never have changed the nature of our friendship. At least now that you’re done with your training, you don’t need me to hold your hand any longer.’

  Virgil closed his eyes at recalling the words his past self had sprouted to Clara. How could he have treated her in such a fashion? He’d been so full of his own self-importance, so determined to succeed, that he’d pushed away the one person who had always been there for him, who had always shared in his successes.

  It had been almost eight months into his overseas placement in Montreal, after he’d presented a paper and received an award, that he’d realised he had no one special to share it with. What had been worse was that when he’d tried to contact Clara to apologise, he’d received no response.

  ‘She’s giving you a second chance tonight,’ he told his reflection sternly. ‘Don’t blow it.’

  The knock at his bedroom door made him turn to see Gwenda standing in the doorway, looking at him with a small smirk on her face.

  Gwenda had been an old friend of his mother’s, and after she’d nursed her husband through terminal cancer she’d been at a loose end, her children all grown with lives of their own. When Virgil had found himself a widower, with a six-month-old daughter to care for, as well as a full workload, Gwenda had offered to help out as his live-in housekeeper and nanny.

  ‘I’m nervous,’ he told her.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t show up?’

  ‘What if she does?’

  ‘What if she refuses to listen to what I have to say?’

  ‘What if she doesn’t?’

  Virgil closed his eyes. ‘I hope she listens. I hope so much that Clara and I can patch things up.’

  ‘Rosie’s ready for bed. Go and say goodnight, then off you go to get some answers to these questions.’

  Virgil opened his eyes and smiled at the mention of his daughter. ‘Good plan.’

  He’d thought about asking Clara to come to his house for dinner and meet Rosie, but they really did have a lot to discuss. They needed to try and put the past in the past and hopefully forge a future together. At least that was what he wanted. Was he being foolish putting all his cards on the table?

  As he went through the nightly routine with his gorgeous girl, checking her teeth and reading her stories, Virgil embraced the love he felt for his daughter. Rosie didn’t judge him—she simply loved him because he was her daddy. That innocent, unconditional love had been the starting point for his present plan. Being upfront and honest with Clara was the only way he knew how to try and win her back.

  * * *

  Clara arrived way too early at the restaurant, but she wanted to be there when Virgil arrived. She wanted to show him that she was a different person from the one he’d known all those years ago—the woman who had run late for dates, late for classes and late for everything in between. Now she was a successful GP, with her own thriving practice. She was well respected by her peers and within her community. She was happy, content, and she didn’t need a boyfriend from her past to insinuate himself back into her life.

  The problem was that Virgil wasn’t just an old boyfriend. He’d been the true love of her life, and long before their relationship had changed from one of friendship to one that was much, much more, Clara had been in love with him. However, as she constantly reminded herself, the past was the past—and regardless of what Virgil had planned for his move back to his old stomping ground, it definitely wouldn’t be including her. Not in a romantic light anyway. Professional colleagues she could cope with. Nothing more.

  Finally he arrived, ten minutes before their appointed time. She saw his eyebrows rise when the maître d’ indicated that Clara was already there. She watched as he walked towards the table, his stride sure and steadfast. She liked the way he walked. She’d liked watching him walk in the past, and now was no exception.

  It wasn’t until he stood before her that she realised she’d been staring.

  ‘Shall I add a little pivot for you?’ He quirked his eyebrow, his gaze filled with memories of the past, his lips pulled into an intriguing smile.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her that question, but she was determined tonight would be the last. Ignoring the way his smile had caused a flood of tingles to invade her body, and the way his spicy scent teased her senses, she indicated a chair.

  As he sat, he continued to smile. ‘You’re early!’

  ‘I’ve changed, and I want you to know that I’m not interested in picking up the threads of our old relationship.’

  ‘Straight to the point. Good.’ He opened the menu and glanced at it for a whole three seconds before declaring, ‘Well, I know what I’m having. How about you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  He summoned a waiter and they gave their orders.

  Once they were alone, he shifted in his chair before leaning forward. ‘Thank you for agreeing to dine with me.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, Virgil, it’s merely a strategy to ensure we can keep the past where it belongs and work alongside each other like professionals.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  Upon hearing those words, Clara sighed. ‘Good.’

  He was going to see sense. Thank goodness for that. No more talk of moving back to Loggeen just so he could see her again. Clara picked up her glass of water and took a sip. Perhaps this dinner wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean we can’t investigate whether or not there are any residual feelings remaining from our past relationship,’ he continued.

  She accidentally sprayed some of her mouthful of water on him, before choking on the rest as she swallowed the wrong way. Coughing and spluttering, she was powerless to stop him from patting her on the back in an effort to ease the obstruction.

  ‘Steady on.’ He picked up a napkin and dabbed at where the water had landed.

  ‘I didn’t mean to spit on you,’ she remarked between coughs.

  Virgil chuckled. ‘Just lik
e old times. The two of us having fun together.’

  Clara gave one last cough, then shook her head. ‘No, Virgil. It’s not. It can never be like old times again.’

  She tried to make her words sound firm, definite, but her throat was still recovering from the coughing spasm and therefore sounded a little croaky.

  ‘As we’re speaking frankly, I’ve got to ask why you won’t even consider it.’ He went to reach for her hand but she shifted back in her chair. Virgil looked at both his own hands for a moment before saying softly, ‘I’ve changed too, Clara. I really have. I’m not the idiotic moron I was back then. I apologise for what I said and for the way I treated you.’

  Clara pondered his words for a long moment. ‘Thank you for apologising.’ She tilted her head to the side and aimed her next question at him. ‘So what are you planning? To waltz back into my life, woo me once more and then—what?’

  He held her gaze, his tone filled with conviction. ‘Then we fall in love again. Marriage. Children. Careers. Happy families until death do us part.’

  Clara openly gaped at him in astonishment. ‘And you told me you’d changed.’ She shook her head. ‘What absolute rubbish!’

  ‘I have changed, Clara.’

  ‘Really? Hmm...let’s review. In the past you wanted to break up with me, head overseas and focus on your career. Check.’ She mimed the act of making an imaginary tick in the air. ‘Then you decided to get married and have children.’ She mimed another tick. ‘Check. Then things didn’t turn out exactly as you planned so you thought, Hmm... Clara wanted to marry me in the past, so I think I’ll return to Loggeen and pick up where we left off. I’ll wine and dine her, I’ll woo her, and she’ll remember what we once had. I’ll tell her I’ve changed. I’ll apologise for the pain I caused and then everything will be fine.’

  Clara twisted her napkin beneath the table, the piece of material receiving a good portion of her pent-up frustration.

  ‘It’s always what you want, Virgil. Your career. Your plan. You haven’t changed one bit and I’m not falling for you again.’

  ‘But I have changed,’ he said imploringly, his words urgent. Even his facial expression showed he thought he spoke the truth. ‘I’m not as selfish as I was before. I’ve learned, Clara. I really have learned how to put others first.’