Secrets In Sydney

CHAPTER FOUR

HAYLEY woke up slowly, blinking against the sunlight that streamed in through her open curtains, and stretched out with a sigh. The brighter the light, the better she slept, and today was an exceptionally sunny day. It was also her day off—a day she usually spent studying.

At high school she’d spent her weekends studying instead of partying, and that had continued through medical school. Now her days off often came during the week but the pattern hadn’t changed. She’d sleep really late and then study well into the night until she fell asleep at her desk under the glow of her reading lamp. There she could get a few hours’ sleep, unlike in her bed.

She threw back the covers and got up, padding directly to her small kitchen to make a huge pot of Earl Grey tea and a plate of hot, buttered toast. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she opened up her study planner to see what the next topic of revision was, only this time her usual buzz of enthusiasm didn’t stir. Instead, she had an overwhelming urge to do something totally different with her day. An urge so unexpected that it swooped in and changed the shape of her loneliness.

She bit her lip. She was intimate with loneliness—it had been part of her from the moment death had stolen not only her twin sister’s life but a part of her life too. Over the years it had become a living thing—a constant companion—despite other friendships. She’d thrown herself into study and then work, and she enjoyed being part of a huge institution, but the empty space inside her had never filled. She’d tried a few times to be a girlfriend, but she’d never found the connection strong enough. Eventually she’d accepted that there was always going to be a space between her and others. Still, she was a healthy woman with needs like anyone else so in the past she’d settled on two ‘friends with benefits’ arrangements—one at university and another last year in the UK. Both men had eventually wanted more than she could offer so she’d let them go, and happily watched each of them fall in love with a woman they deserved. A woman who was whole and could love them the way she never could. Now she was back in Sydney she didn’t have time for anything other than work and her exam preparation. She’d spent years working toward this exam so she could proudly hang up a brass plate with her name on it—Ms Hayley Grey. Surgeon. FRACS.

Finn Kennedy was right. The exam was a bastard and the pass rate first time round was very low. She was determined to pass on her first attempt and for that to happen, study must be her priority. Nothing was going to derail her from her goal.

You enjoyed having dinner with Tom Jordan.

The kettle boiled and she poured the water over the fragrant leaves and breathed in deeply. To her total and utter surprise, the quick dinner she’d shared with Tom hadn’t been the horror she’d anticipated. Sure, Tom had his own set of demons, but the flipside meant he wasn’t interested in hers. Added to that, his conversation style was in such sharp contrast to the usual ‘first date’ scene that it had been both refreshing and stimulating.

It was hardly a date.

I know that.

She quickly buttered her toast but she couldn’t deny that Tom’s rough-edged charisma and wickedly deep voice kept coming back to her at all times of the day and night, making her feel flustered and tingly all at the same time. God, maybe she did need to have sex with someone soon.

Tom Jordan is not that one.

And she knew that. Dark and brooding was not for her. She needed light. She needed sunshine and happiness, which was why the two men she’d chosen in the past had been benign in comparison with Tom’s rugged cynicism. But the problem was, she’d glimpsed the man who was buried under all that anger and sadness, and she wanted to see him again.

Her cheeks suddenly burned when she thought about how during the emergency surgery three nights ago she’d asked Theo in a roundabout way where Tom lived.

‘You had dinner with Tom Jordan?’

Theo’s eyes had widened so much that Hayley had thought they would explode and she’d realised she’d just given out information to a hard-core gossip.

‘Yes, and I had to dash back here. I was just wondering if he’d chosen the restaurant because it was close to his place. If I was blind, I think I’d stick to known places.’

Theo had nodded and said, ‘His apartment’s on the top floor of the Bridgeview Building. I can’t believe that all this time he’s been blind and living in Perth, and none of us knew. Did he say what happened?’

Hayley didn’t like to gossip but as she’d been the one to bring the topic up she took the middle road. ‘I only met the man this morning and he said he was knocked off his bike. I’m sure now that he’s back in Sydney he’d appreciate a call from friends and he’ll probably tell you a lot more that he did me.’

Theo had almost dropped the Yankauer sucker. ‘Tom Jordan was incredibly well respected amongst the staff but he wasn’t someone you made friends with or saw much outside the hospital. Believe me, many of the nurses tried but he pretty much held himself apart. Tom could talk surgery for hours, but put him in a staffroom with a group discussing last night’s favourite TV show and it was like sticking him in a foreign country where he didn’t speak the language. Put it this way, the man doesn’t do small talk.’

How long have you been scared of the dark?

Hayley smiled at the recollection as she bit into the toast. Theo was right. Tom still didn’t do small talk but, then again, neither did she—or when she tried she didn’t do it very well. She totally understood what it was like to feel completely at sea when surrounded by an animated discussion about who would be eliminated next from the phenomenally popular cooking show on television. She hardly watched any TV and if she did have some downtime she tended to re-watch her favourite movies on DVD.

She gave herself a shake. Enough of straying thoughts and Tom Jordan. It was time to knuckle down to her day. But as she rinsed her plate and mug, the need to move, to do something different, intensified. It was as if her entire body was fidgeting. With a sigh she tossed the tea towel over the dish drainer.

Go for a run. She smiled at the thought. Exercise was the perfect solution to working off this unusual lack of focus and after a long run she’d be able to settle down to study.

Five minutes later and with her MP3 player strapped to her arm, she slipped a key into her pocket and headed out the door. She usually ran down towards Luna Park, but today she just started running, letting her feet take her wherever, and it didn’t take long before she realised she was almost at the hospital. When she reached it, she ran along the back boundary, past Pete’s and the crashing sound of bottles being thrown in the dumpster for recycling, and then across into the strip shopping centre. Dodging through the building lunchtime crowd, she automatically slowed as she passed Wayan’s.

What are you doing? Tom won’t be there.

She looked anyway.

Told you he wouldn’t be there.

Shut up.

She continued the run, silencing the chatter in her head by pushing her body hard and turning her mind over to the demands of keeping one foot in front of the other until she reached a small park close to the sparkling waters of Sydney harbour. As always, the harbour was busy with yachts, motor launches and the ever-present green and yellow ferries that carried commuters all over Sydney. Panting, she stopped at a water fountain and quenched her thirst before leaning over a park bench and doing some necessary stretching. She’d taken a zigzag route from home but now she was at the lowest point. It was going to be a long, uphill climb all the way back.

Giving her body some recovery time, she walked slowly through the small park and came out on the high side, away from the water. It took her a moment to work out exactly where she was and then she saw the gold letters on the building in front of her. Bridgeview.

Tom’s building?

She crossed the street and peered at the list of names next to the pad of doorbells. His name was at the top of the list. A zip of heat shot through her and without stopping to think she pressed her finger to the button.

Her brain instantly engaged. What are you doing? She pulled her finger off the button as if it was on fire, but it was too late. The peal of the electronic bell sounded back at her from the intercom.

‘Did you forget your key, Jared?’

Horrified, she stared at the intercom.

‘Jared?’

Say something or walk away. ‘I’m not Jared.’

‘Who is it?’

Tom’s voice sounded deeper than ever through the intercom and her heart skipped a beat.

‘It’s, um …’ Oh, for heaven’s sake, you know your own name. She gave herself a shake and tried to settle the cotillion of butterflies that had taken over her stomach. ‘Hayley.’ She quickly added, ‘Grey’ for clarification, and then gave a silent groan of humiliation.

She stood there in her running gear, dripping in sweat and feeling incredibly foolish. What on earth had possessed her to ring his doorbell? Worse still, what was she going to say if he actually asked her why she was there? “Just passing. Thought I’d drop in …”

With a groan she rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, lamenting the fact she hadn’t thought this through at all and hating that she’d allowed her wayward body to make decisions for her. Meanwhile, the silence extended beyond the time it would take to reply and had moved from a polite pause into seriously uncomfortable nothingness.

Just go home.

She pushed off the wall and then jumped as the buzzing sound of amplified silence blared out of the speaker.

‘Are you still there?’ Tom demanded.

Say nothing. Pretend you’ve left. ‘I am.’

‘I suppose you’d better come up, then.’

Her lips twitched into a half-smile. As invitations went, it summed up Tom perfectly—direct and straight to the point.

The door buzz sounded for a long moment. You’re committed now so open the door. After a short hesitation she bit her lip, pushed against the heavy glass and stepped into the foyer. A whisper-quiet lift whizzed her to the top floor and then she was standing in front of an ivory-coloured door. Tom’s front door. As she knocked, another zip of panic ricocheted through her. Oh, God, what was she doing? She was hot, sweaty and probably bright red. She wiped her hands down her running shorts and for one purely selfish moment she was glad he was blind.

The door opened and Tom stood in front of her, his chocolate-noir hair spiked as if his hands had ploughed through it a thousand times and strands of silver caressed his temples. Deep lines pulled around his bright green eyes and bracketed his generous mouth, and the familiar aura of strain circled him. Today, instead of being dressed head to toe in what she’d assumed was his signature black, he wore dark brown cord, slim-fit pants, a white shirt with a button-down collar and a chocolate-brown moleskin jacket. His clothes were all perfectly colour-coordinated and although there was no sign of any tweed, he looked every inch a university professor. Not that he technically was one, but she wondered if one day in the future he might just choose that path. His ruffled hair added to the look, although Hayley knew that was all to do with him not being able to see, because there was nothing about Tom that was absent-minded.

She smiled. ‘Hello, Tom.’

He didn’t offer his hand but gave her a nod and stood back from the door. ‘Come in.’

She stepped into his apartment and stopped abruptly, instantly struck by a sense of space. It took her a moment to realise this was because he had hardly any furniture and what he did have was spaced a good distance apart. She noticed dents in the carpet and realised that once there’d been a lot more furniture, but the side tables and coffee table had now gone. A glossy black grand piano was the only piece of non-essential furniture.

As if reading her mind, he said in a manner-of-fact voice, ‘Less to bump into and no sharp corners, which are murder on shins.’ He stretched his hands out in front of him. His palms collided with her breasts.

For a split second his fingers brushed across her skimpy Lycra running top. A rush of delicious tingles swooped through her breasts, making them push against her bra and filling the curve of his palm. The rest of her body moaned as a shiver of need rocked and coiled between her legs with a jealous throb.

Tom quickly dropped his hands and stepped backwards, colliding with the now-closed door. Pain and discomfiture streaked across his face before he spoke through tight lips. ‘I apologise.’

She wanted to die on the spot. Not because he’d touched her breasts—that had been pure pleasure—but because she’d caused him embarrassment and hurt in his own home. ‘Please, there’s no need to apologise.’

His eyes deepened to moss green and there wasn’t a trace of humour on his face. ‘So you’re happy with men you barely know touching your breasts, are you?’

Her chin shot up. ‘No, of course not. It’s just that—’

‘What?’ He folded his arms over his chest and glared ever so slightly to her left.

‘Well, it was an accident. I should have given you more space by moving further into the room.’

He’d stepped forward while she was speaking, all predatory intent, and a sizzle of something very strong arced between them, draining her brain and making her sway towards him.

‘I might be blind, Hayley, but, believe me, I’m still very much a man.’

He stood so close that she felt his low words vibrating against her face. She could smell the crisp, fresh scent of his cologne, which mocked her as it was in stark contrast to the dangerous currents of lust and leashed restraint that circled him.

Currents that circled her too, buffeting her and taunting her. She slowly raised her hand and placed it on his chest in the exact place he’d put his hand on hers. When she spoke, her voice came out slightly breathless. ‘Not for one moment have I ever doubted you were a man.’

His nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply and for a moment his face shed its tension and his sightless eyes flared with the same need she knew burned hotly in hers. His hand touched her bare waist and she rose on her toes, ready to brush his lips with hers.

A heartbeat away from her kiss, he tensed under her palm. Without a word he lifted his hand away from her waist, peeled back her fingers from his body and with a firm grip put her hand back by her side.

A chill like an arctic wind cooled her from the inside out.

He took five careful steps away from her. ‘Why are you here, Hayley?’

Because you fascinate me. Because my subconscious led me to you, knowing I would have fought it otherwise.

Neither reply would work so she thought on her feet, making up a reason for a visit that had none. Ignoring the fact she wasn’t dressed for lunch, she said, ‘I had to leave abruptly the other night but today’s my day off. I thought we could try lunch, only this time we can manage to finish an entire meal.’

His fingers flexed. ‘I believe we’d both finished eating our meal before you had to leave.’

She laughed. ‘But I didn’t get dessert.’ Shut up. The moment the words left her lips she wanted to bury her face in her hands. The quip was supposed to have come out light-hearted and breezy, but instead her body had betrayed her by dropping her voice to an alto purr, making her sound like she was trying to seduce him.

He instantly raised a brow, but not even a hint of a smile cracked the tension on his face. ‘It might be your day off, Hayley, but I have to work. I’m giving an afternoon lecture.’

‘Oh. Right.’ It was crazy to feel so disappointed when a moment ago the idea for the invitation hadn’t even existed. Perhaps it was because she’d enjoyed their dinner the other night or perhaps it was some other reason altogether, but she surprised herself by asking, ‘What about tonight, then?’

He shook his head. ‘I have a dinner with Eric Frobisher.’

Against growing regret, she made herself sound very casual. ‘Perhaps another time, then? Consider it an open invitation between two friends.’

The shadows that dogged him darkened even more, placing his cheekbones in sharp relief. ‘I don’t think so.’ He turned away from her, out toward the multimillion-dollar view. The one he couldn’t see.

There was no ambiguity in his words or his stance. This was an unequivocal rejection.

He doesn’t like you.

She stood staring at his back, feeling out of place and completely in the way. How had she got this so wrong? The other night they’d got along in a funny sort of way and a few moments ago an attraction had pulsed so strongly between them that every part of her still vibrated with the remnants of desire.

She couldn’t possibly have imagined it all, could she? And yet right now every fibre of his being screamed at her to leave.

More than anything she wished the floor would open up and swallow her or that she could just wave a wand and vanish. If this was what happened when she gave in to impulsive thoughts then she was done with them. She stomped down hard on the new and unsettling feelings that had led her straight into this demoralising situation. Gulping in a steadying breath, she accepted she had to leave but, damn it, she was going to exit with grace, style and good manners.

Rolling her shoulders back, she said, ‘If you regret your decision, the hospital switchboard can give you my number.’

He didn’t turn around or say another word.

A spark of anger flared at his rudeness and total disregard for her feelings. ‘I won’t impose on you any longer. Goodbye, Tom. I’ll let myself out.’

Tom didn’t hear her feet moving against the sound-absorbing plush carpet, but he heard the quiet click of the door and he knew she’d gone. His trembling hands found the doorhandle to the balcony and he hauled the door open. Once outside he let out an almighty roar—one that was filled with anger, pain and frustration, and he let the winter breeze take it away and dump it out over the harbour.

Breathing heavily, he tried to find some calm. The last person he’d ever expected to ring his doorbell was Hayley. Hayley, who’d felt as soft and as warm as a kitten but whose voice had told another story—the story that promised tangled sheets, sweaty bodies and the bliss of ultimate release.

He’d sensed the change between them, hell, he’d smelled it on her, and heard it in her voice after he’d accidentally pressed his hands to her breasts. Her soft, round breasts that had felt so glorious in his hands. It had been a clear invitation from her to explore and to see what might happen—a man’s perfect fantasy and he’d kicked her to the kerb.

He slammed his hand hard against the metal railing, trying to silence the itch that had pleaded with him to touch her again, but the impact of the blow didn’t affect it. Neither did it cool his body, which burned to feel hers moulding to his. No, all it had achieved was to make him want to kiss her even more and taste the scent of her. That potent scent he’d been inhaling from the moment she’d walked in, the interplay of sweat and desire, culminating in a powerful aphrodisiac that had made him hard and ready to lose himself in her.

But he’d also smelled sweetness and that scared him because it was a sweetness unsullied by the bastard that was fate. The bastard that had stolen his sight and continued to mock him.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, ‘Jared,’ to activate the call, before pressing it against his ear.

‘Hey, Tom.’ Jared’s voice sounded muffled due to the hands-free device. ‘I’m pulling in now. I just saw that doctor you met the other day, only this time she was smokin’ in Lycra. She’s got one hot body, dude.’

Lycra he’d just had his hands all over. One nipped-in waist he’d cupped, and soft, soft skin he’d longed to explore. Skin he couldn’t explore. Damn, he’d wanted her.

She offered you friendship.

The tempting thought tried to settle but he shrugged it away. There was no point. His life had changed the moment his brain had been jolted violently on its axis and dinner the other night had left him in no doubt that being with Hayley only reminded him of everything he’d lost. That’s why he’d hurt her feelings and sent her away. He couldn’t risk her coming back.

It was all about survival, pure and simple.

His survival.

He thought about the lecture hall full of medical students waiting for him, and waiting for him to make a mistake. How long would it take before they considered his experience passé?

‘Tom, do you want me to come up?’

‘No, stay there, Jared. I’m coming straight down.’

He picked up his computer and his cane, patted his pocket for his wallet and keys and opened the door. He paused for a moment, visualising the route: thirteen steps to the lift and avoid the ornamental palm in the unforgiving ceramic pot at step nine.

Yes, it was all about survival.