Husband Stay (Husband #2) Page 2

  I glanced back at Sally. “Does he have a heart problem?” For some reason I felt a niggling sense of responsibility, as if his interaction with me had been two-way. Which was crazy. He’d inflicted everything on me. I needed to remember that before my soft heart started ambling down sympathy road.

  “Maybe,” she said, not taking her eyes from the road.

  But did that mean they weren’t sure, or that she wasn’t giving an indication either way because of privacy laws?

  And why did I care?

  I glanced over my shoulder again, noticing for the first time that the expanse of chest his opened Tee-shirt revealed was huge, and embarrassingly muscular. Was he a footballer? I’d heard that rugby boys could be uncontrollable, but I’d never seen them in Bertie’s club before.

  The usual patron was a thirty-something professional—but boring professions like accountants and dentists who sat around drinking expensive cocktails and listening to the music of their teenage years, imagining they were just as cool as they’d always been.

  I’d suffered more than my fair share of ham-fisted flirting over the years, and it sometimes took all of my self-control to smile and be gracious as Bertie expected, when I really wanted to say Why on earth would I go out with a pretentious twit like you when I have a perfectly good husband at home?

  I hadn’t known then that Danny was far from ‘perfectly good’. I’d accepted the fact that he’d always been a flirt, which had alternately embarrassed and annoyed me. I’d smiled through most of it, sometimes with gritted teeth, but I hadn’t liked it.

  Now that it was over, however, the worst thing was not-knowing when flirting had tipped over to infidelity. That really sucked. And every time I thought of how gullible I’d been, believing all his late-home-lies, I felt sick with disgust. But I had to stop doing that to myself. Self-recrimination only made life harder to wade through, and the last thing I wanted was to feel like a victim.

  So I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I could somehow go back in time to when Jill, Fritha, Louella and I had been schoolgirls together and Tommy Smout had sent me love letters. I hadn’t been attracted to Tommy in the slightest, but his adoration had impressed me.

  Of course, I hadn’t been attracted to Danny either, but the difference between the two men was that Tommy had grown into a lovely man, a faithful and steadfast husband and a doting father. At least that’s what my mother told me while recounting news of Dakaroo, the little country town where we girls had grown up before we’d all fled the outback for adventures in the city.

  If I’d married Tommy Smout instead of Danny, I’d be a happy mother now—albeit to mixed race children—instead of a lonely woman with no shoes riding an ambulance to hospital in a city where nobody cared about you.

  I sighed again, and that’s when Sally interrupted my thoughts. “He’s a looker, that’s for sure.”

  I blinked my eyes open, confused for a second about her ability to read my mind. Then I twigged that I was still turned toward the drunk. Without realizing what I’d been doing, I’d twisted sideways in the seat to face Sally, resting my cheek against the head-rest so I could stare at the man on the stretcher behind her.

  “No wedding ring.” She winked at me and hauled us around a corner, her thin arms like spindles as they turned the steering wheel.

  “He’s a creep,” I said categorically, but when I glanced back at him, I couldn’t help feeling as if the description didn’t fit anymore. With monitors all over his chest, and his face gentle with sleep—or unconsciousness—he looked like a big kid. A big stupid kid, granted. But not a creep.

  Annoying.

  But not scary.

  I twisted around to face the front again, protecting my wrist with my good hand. “I’m married,” I said. My standard defense. May as well use it until the divorce was official.

  She shrugged. “Fair enough, but there’s no law against looking.”

  The other paramedic’s voice cut over us from the back. “ASAP, Sal.”

  She flipped on the siren and that was the end of our conversation as she focused on the road, swerving between cars, running red lights, worse than a Sydney taxi driver.

  I could see movement behind me in my peripheral vision, and I desperately wanted to turn back and stare, but some ingrained decency forced me to avert my head. Every bad thing I’d thought about the man on the stretcher slowly drained out of my mind. He wasn’t even the drunk anymore. He was someone’s son, clearly fighting for his life.

  In a straight stretch with a clear freeway in front of us, Sally grabbed the radio and rattled off codes. I had no idea what they meant. But I heard cardiac among it. Then she slapped the microphone back down and said over her shoulder, “Do you need me in the back?”

  “No.”

  I stopped cradling my wrist and let it rest on my lap, feeling like a complete baby. Why on earth had I made such a fuss? Especially now that the pill had done its work and the pain was a muted rumble, like distant thunder.

  I turned to Sally and said, “Is there anything I can do?”

  Her frown deepened, but she didn’t take her attention off the road. “Pray?”

  She’d probably said it as a joke, but I closed my eyes and immediately started into the prayer my parents had taught me when my grandmother had been desperately ill. I worship the lotus feet of Ganesha, and call on the son of Uma, the destroyer of all sorrows…

  Whoever this man was, it wasn’t fair for him to die in this way, with no loved ones nearby. So when the ambulance pulled into the emergency section of the hospital, I kept right on praying, staying where I was as Sally jumped out and helped her partner get the stretcher out of the ambulance.

  Orderlies rushed out of the hospital to meet them and I watched as the man I’d thought so badly of, jiggled on the stretcher as it rattled across the asphalt and was swallowed up into the hospital.

  I kept on praying, feeling ever more hopeless, terrified that his last human interaction might have been my curse about a stupid pair of shoes. The shock of it all must have gotten to me, because I was on the verge of tears when Sally came back ten minutes later and opened the passenger door to let me out. Somehow I held my emotions in check.

  “Let’s get you inside so they can look at that wrist.”

  I wished I could tell her it was unimportant, so I could retreat to the tiny apartment I was sharing with my cousin and have a cathartic sob, but there was something wrong with the wrist. It needed an X-ray. I may as well get it done now.

  “Thanks.” I picked up my handbag with my good hand and followed her in, trying to ignore how uncomfortable my bare feet were on the uneven asphalt. “Is he going to be okay?” It was none of my business, but I still felt a completely unwarranted sense of responsibility for him. “Are his people coming?”

  She shook her head. “No idea. We just pass on the information. Hospital staff will work that out. Unless you know something about him that you can tell them?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “You’d remember him if you did.” She led me in through the sliding glass doors and a wash of cold, disinfectant-tainted air coursed over me. It was a relief to be on smooth, cool tiles. “He’s one big unit,” she added with another wink, then she led me to triage. “Well, this is where I leave you. Sorry I missed your set. I’ll try to get to the club some time to hear you.”

  “Really?” I was surprised by her interest. It was sweet. “Thank you. Please let me know if you do come. I’d like to buy you a drink to say thanks.”

  She glanced around, and then back at me. “You’re not…hitting on me, are you?”

  It took my brain two seconds to process that, then my breath fell out on a gust of shock. “Not… No! Goodness no. I’m completely straight. Completely! Married, well, separated, but—”

  She laughed at my reaction. “Okay. It’s okay.” She patted my shoulder. “You just didn’t seem interested in the hot guy, so I thought…you know.”

  “
He was drunk and unconscious.” I shook my head. “How was I supposed to notice he was hot?”

  And why would I care? It was way too soon for that.

  Sally grinned. “Must be just me with the lecherous thoughts.”

  The triage nurse butted in with questions, so Sally excused herself and I was left to suffer the next few hours of waiting and consultation and x-rays and more waiting all by myself. I’d expected to grow sadder, but instead, as time passed I became more curious about the guy and what was happening to him.

  In the end, I embarrassed myself by cornering a nurse. “A man came in the ambulance with me. Tall. Big build. Dark hair. Some sort of heart issue.”

  She nodded. “Killer smile, sexy chest.”

  I did a double-take. The nurse had to be fifty. Probably a grandma. “I didn’t see his smile…” I faltered. Did that mean he was awake now? I had seen his chest. “He was a patron in the club where I work. So I feel…a sense of responsibility for him. Have his family been notified that he’s here?”

  If I was in hospital with a dodgy heart, I’d want my parents at my bedside, stat!

  She shook her head. “He’s all alone. You want to check in on him?”

  “Oh, no.” It was my turn to shake my head. “I don’t know him.” I looked around for an excuse. “I’m waiting for the results of X-rays. If I don’t hear my name called—”

  “I’ll find you.” She looked as if she was calling me on a dare. But the last thing I wanted was to talk to the man. I was tired. It was nearly 4am. I wanted my wrist fixed and I wanted to go home. Damn my stupid marshmallow heart for getting me into trouble—yet again. But she just raised an eyebrow. “Five minutes,” she said. “Might cheer him up.”

  I frowned at her, but it was like frowning at a rock wall. She absolutely wasn’t moved. And my conscience was saying, You prayed for the man. Would it hurt you to look in on him?

  I was over my angst about the shoes. Perhaps I could consider it an act of goodwill and tell Bertie I’d done it on his behalf. It might make me look more reliable, more like a staff member he could count on to perform her duties.

  “Alright.” I hadn’t meant to sound so begrudging, but both her eyebrows rose and I felt obliged to add, “I’m sorry. I’ll be nice to him.”

  “He nearly died.” She pinned me with a glare, then she nodded at the corridor and set off ahead of me.

  I padded after her in my bare feet and black sheath dress, feeling stupid all over again when people gave me puzzled glances. Did they think I was some party girl who’d lost her footwear while roaming around drunk? At least my hand was now in a tidy sling against my chest, so I added straight shoulders and a raised chin, hoping I could get this ordeal over with quickly and get home.

  I’d worry about how to get my car back from the club tomorrow. I clearly couldn’t drive with one arm out of action. Which meant I’d need to beg my cousin for a lift to the train station on Monday. The last thing I needed was to lose my new part-time job at the deli…

  Oh.

  How could I prepare food when I had only one working arm?

  I hadn’t thought of that, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach at the same moment as the nurse stopped and turned to me.

  “In there,” she said and nodded at a door.

  I struggled to put my own concerns aside for the moment, but my smile only lasted until I realized she clearly wasn’t coming in with me. I shook my head. “You want me to just…go in?”

  What if he was asleep or—

  “Yep.” She turned on her heel and marched back the way we’d come, leaving me staring at the door, wondering what might be happening on the other side. What if he was using the bedpan, or a doctor was in there examining him. Any number of embarrassing things could be happening—things I didn’t want to intrude on.

  But surely the nurse would have thought of that. And, really, could I walk away when she’d made him sound so lonely? In the end it was my marshmallow heart that did the deciding, and I knocked tentatively.

  Unfortunately, there was no answer, so I tensed my shoulders in anticipation, turned the doorknob and eased the door open, sliding my head inside to scope out the room, ready for a quick exit if necessary.

  But nothing was happening. He was alone in the room, lying on the bed with his eyes closed, his big tanned chest dotted with tiny white monitors and their cords. Was he asleep?

  I hovered in the doorway, not sure what to do. I couldn’t simply walk into a stranger’s room when he wasn’t even awake. Weren’t there laws about privacy? I was frowning at him, thinking I should just ease back out of the room and try and retrace my steps. But right in that moment, he opened his eyes.

  “Yes?” he croaked.

  I had another impulse to back away—which would have been the right thing to do. There was no reason to stay. Only…he looked sad.

  Stupid marshmallow heart.

  I struggled internally, but ended up stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. I even conjured a fake smile. “Hello. I’m Angela. From the club.”

  “Jack.” His frown deepened and he shook his head. “Have we met? I’m sure I’d remember you. You’re a knockout.” His voice was unnaturally gravelly, and I wondered if they’d pumped his stomach. That distracted me so much I didn’t pick up on the compliment straight away.

  When I did, I said, “Oh,” and took a few steps closer to the bed, so he didn’t need to strain his voice. Then I faltered to a stop and my mouth fell open.

  Shiva be praised. What a man!

  Somehow I managed to say, “Thanks,” although I could hear the vague tone in my voice. I was totally confused by the loud shouting in my brain. Stop staring at his chest. And, Oh my! How completely manly. How completely…sexy.

  I swallowed hard and struggled to meet his gaze, which was impossible when he was naked to the waist. He had huge pecs with tiny brown nipples and a thin line of dark hair that ran down the middle of his muscular belly, widening marginally below the waist as it disappeared beneath the bed linen.

  My imagination promptly conjured a visual of what could be hiding there, and I felt stunned by the fact that I wasn’t revolted—far from it!

  Clearly, I should never have come into the room alone. It was completely inappropriate, and that had to be the reason my face felt so hot. I was embarrassed. That was all.

  “Angela,” he said wistfully. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything before I woke up. The whole night is a blank.” Jack’s eyes were brown, but not as dark as mine—more toffee colored—and staring into them made me feel breathless. Which was crazy. I’d met handsomer men than him—men with no facial hair.

  But the stubble couldn’t hide a strong jawline and beautiful lips. He was stunning, arousing, and I’d never felt like this before, not even when I’d had teenage crushes. The jerky sensations racing around my body were debilitating and energizing all at the same time.

  I could hear Fritha’s voice inside my head telling me it was destiny, and Jill saying it was lust. I wasn’t sure what it was. But it was something.

  I forced my mouth to work. “I was singing. You vomited on my stage.”

  “Fuck.” He just kept staring at me, and somehow the air thickened around us. I could feel it throbbing like a heat mirage. “I’m sorry.”

  His steady gaze slid away from my eyes and I felt my whole body tingle into life. His inspection was slow, from the top of my long dark hair, down to pause at my lips, then it lingered on my shoulders, my breasts, down to my cinched waist and then over my generous hips. When he’d finished, he met my eyes again.

  “So there’s no chance of us…” He waved a finger between the two of us and smiled the ‘killer smile’ the nurse had warned me about, all shiny white teeth in his tanned face, sexy crow’s feet beside his eyes and a come-hither eyebrow raise. Looking at it made my insides flutter down low, and I was just thinking I’d never felt that before, when he added. “…having sex?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ther
e was a three second lag-time before I thought, What?

  Then it felt like stepping under a freezing cold shower. Every steamy thought I’d been fighting sluiced away.

  Creep!

  Bastard.

  Dammit, I’d been right the first time. I shook my head and took a step away from the bed. “I’m married,” I snapped, horrified to hear my voice trembling. “And even if I wasn’t, I certainly wouldn’t be interested in a foul-mouthed, drunk like you.”

  Stupid, stupid marshmallow heart.

  I hugged my sore wrist against my chest and stomped out of his room—as best I could in bare feet—slamming the door behind me, unreasonably angry at the paramedic Sally and the nurse who’d talked me into visiting him, and anyone else who had anything to do with the situation—Bertie for letting him into the club in the first place. Jack had probably been drunk then.

  I shuddered. Creep. Then I realized how lucky I was. He’d revealed himself quickly. If I’d let that wayward attraction continue to build… Would I have done something crazy? Danny was the only man I’d ever slept with. We’d met in school. Even now, when I was thinking it was ‘too soon’ to be dating, I knew I’d only go out with someone who was husband material.

  Jack certainly wasn’t that.

  In fact, he wasn’t even the sort of person I wanted in the club where I sang, let alone someone to make babies with.

  But there was no getting past the feeling I’d had—which must have been a bad-boy attraction. It made me feel dirty to remember those sinful thoughts, and I knew Sister Carmel from our school days would have made me say fifty Hail Marys as a punishment. But that didn’t erase the fact that within seconds of being in his proximity, I’d experienced more arousal than I ever had during sex.

  Even when he’d sworn so casually, it hadn’t put me off. Bad language usually did, because it was harsh and I was gentle. The two things didn’t go together. Danny had never sworn, and I certainly didn’t want to be with someone who swore.

  And yet…for some reason, hearing Jack say Fuck in that gravelly, deep voice had been totally hot. His cocky masculinity had hit me below the belt, and it didn’t matter how fast I marched down disinfectant-scented corridors, following signs back to the emergency waiting room, I couldn’t get away from the feeling that he was the sexiest man I’d ever met.