Stolen Nights with the Single Dad Read online

  He couldn’t afford to get broken again. Not when he had his precious son to raise.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sexual side of a relationship, did it? It wasn’t normal for someone in his stage of life to be living like a monk, although it had seemed relatively easy up until now. Maybe that was why he was finding this unexpected attraction to Jenna rather disturbing. And maybe he could find a way to add the perfectly normal pleasure of sex back into his life at some point.

  No...he had to dismiss that notion as he refocused on what was happening around him. A casual arrangement for a friendship with benefits would never work when he had a small child and worked in a small town. It was much safer for everybody for him to just focus on his life as a parent and his work as a GP. A life that was about to get more challenging and no doubt satisfying by him becoming qualified as a FRAME practitioner.

  ‘Okay, last one...’ Jenna’s tone suggested it might also be the hardest. ‘Enophthalmos?’ Her grin was cheeky. ‘And, yes—that does have two ‘h’s in it.’

  Her gaze roamed over her silent students before finally resting on Mitch. The remnants of that grin were still evident in the curve of her lips and he couldn’t help smiling back.

  ‘It’s a posterior displacement of a normal-sized globe in relation to the bony orbital margin,’ he said. ‘Or, more simply, a sinking of the eyeball into the orbital cavity.’

  ‘Just what I was about to say.’

  Judith’s wry comment made everybody laugh, including Jenna, but the look she was giving Mitch was not one of amusement. He’d impressed her, hadn’t he? And he rather liked that.

  Okay...he liked it a lot.

  He liked her a lot.

  And...and maybe the fact that she was the total opposite of a woman he’d choose to have as part of his life wasn’t a bad thing. She’d feel exactly the same way about him, surely? With the way she felt about kids, a single father would be a nightmare scenario. But what if Jenna’s incredibly busy career meant that she was as alone in her bed as he’d been for years?

  What if—and the look he was getting at this precise moment suggested it could be a reality—she was as attracted to him as he was to her? Mitch knew the answer to that. It was a very simple two-word answer. Or was it a question?

  Why not?

  CHAPTER THREE

  DESPITE THE TENSION that always went with an assessment scenario, being closely watched and graded by both Jenna and a consultant trauma surgeon she had invited to help sign off the latest recruits to the FRAME network, one of her students was noticeably more relaxed than he had been at the beginning.

  Andrew Mitchell was flying past every tick box on the assessment sheets. He had competently assessed the imaginary scenario for safety issues, cited the ways he would manage or mitigate risks, discounted the need to instigate a major incident plan and was moving through his patient assessment. A mannequin lay on the floor beneath a picture of a badly mangled motorbike and Mitch was up to assessing respiratory effort.

  ‘Do I have any signs of respiratory distress?’

  ‘Yes. Your patient has a respiration rate of greater than thirty. He’s complaining of chest pain but is unable to speak in sentences. Heart rate is one hundred and thirty. Pulse oximetry is less than ninety percent and you’ve just lost a palpable radial pulse.’

  ‘Do I see a jugular vein distension?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tracheal deviation?’

  ‘Possible shift to the right.’

  Mitch put the disc of the stethoscope onto one side of the chest. ‘Breath sounds inaudible on the left.

  ‘I’m diagnosing a tension pneumothorax,’ he said moments later.

  ‘Treatment?’

  ‘A needle thoracostomy.’

  ‘Talk me through the steps.’

  Mitch easily listed the steps for a procedure that Jenna doubted he would have had reason to use during his time as a general practitioner. It sounded as if he’d done one only yesterday, however, and his manner was calm and confident.

  ‘The recommended insertion site is the second intercostal space in the mid-clavicular line but, actually, insertion of the needle virtually anywhere in the correct haemothorax will decompress a tension pneumothorax and if my patient’s getting hypotensive enough for the radial pulse to have disappeared then that puts his systolic blood pressure at less than eighty and makes this a genuine emergency.’

  The trauma surgeon exchanged a glance with Jenna and the slight quirk of his eyebrow told her how impressed he was. It was a bit absurd to feel this proud of Mitch but—right from the opening minutes of this course—there had been something about this man that had captured her. She’d recognised that he was the first person since Stefan that had triggered the kind of attraction she’d never expected—or wanted?—to feel again but what had been even more of a worry was how intimate that whispered conversation had seemed yesterday while he’d been having a go with the video laryngoscope.

  ‘The needle needs to slide in over the upper edge of the rib to avoid damage to the neurovascular bundle on the lower edge of each rib,’ Mitch continued.

  He was moving his hands as if he was actually performing the procedure as he was explaining the steps. It was just as well she was assessing him, Jenna thought, because it gave her a valid reason to be unable—or unwilling—to look away.

  That sensation of intimacy had stayed with her last night and had only become stronger as she’d lain awake far longer than usual.

  Jenna was, quite genuinely, not in the market for any kind of relationship. She’d meant what she’d said to people this morning that she wasn’t about to let anything—or anyone—interfere with her commitment to the career she loved. What she hadn’t bargained for, though, were the echoes of something that could only be shared by a couple who were completely in tune with each other. A particular look. A touch. The feeling of simply being held...

  There was a part of her that still wanted that. So much that not having it in her life was a grief all of its own but she’d never considered trying to find it in isolation. Finding someone who wanted to hold her and touch her but nothing more than that. Maybe she was old-fashioned and hadn’t approved of things like having a one-night stand or, good grief, what was that term she’d heard someone use recently—a sex buddy?

  No...that notion was still enough to make her shudder but a one-off experience? With someone as attractive as Mitch? That might ease the ache of what had been missing in her life for a considerable period of time. Or it might, at least, allow her to gauge how great the effect of the total absence of physical connection with another person might be actually having on her.

  Mitch would be perfect. If he was single, of course. If he was attracted to her.

  There’d been moments in the last couple of days when she’d imagined that he was attracted to her. Like when she’d invited him to the front of the class to demonstrate the modified jaw thrust and he’d given her that almost smile when she’d praised him. And what about earlier today, when he’d been the one to answer the trickiest medical term she’d been able to come up with in relation to eye injuries?

  Oh, yeah...she’d definitely seen something in his eyes that suggested this attraction was not one-sided.

  So what was she going to do about it, if anything?

  What would she do if she discovered he was up for something a little more personal than being in a classroom together?

  What if...?

  Mitch was still speaking. Still sounding—and looking—remarkably relaxed. That curious intensity that she’d been aware of when she’d first met him had dissipated noticeably. As if he’d found whatever that important thing was that he’d been searching for. Was it crazy to feel a kind of connection here that suggested that Jenna had been the person who’d helped him find it?

  ‘The signs and symptoms of a cardiac tamponade ca
n certainly mimic a tension pneumothorax,’ Mitch was saying. ‘You can have the same hypotension, jugular vein distension and respiratory distress but the unilateral absence of breath sounds isn’t present and...’

  Oh, man... It was just as well that Jenna already knew Mitch was going to pass this assessment with no problems at all because she was barely listening as he talked to her colleague about differentiating between two critical situations that needed very different treatment.

  All she could think about as she listened to his voice and tried to keep her gaze on his face instead of watching those expressive hands, wondering what it might be like to be touched by them, was the answer to that ‘what if’ question she didn’t quite dare to articulate.

  The answer was pretty simple, however.

  Why not?

  * * *

  She drank beer.

  A boutique lager that came in a pretty, small bottle but it was still beer and not a glass of chardonnay or sauvignon blanc or maybe even an obscure cocktail that you might expect a sophisticated, intelligent young woman to choose when she was at the pub for a quick drink after work.

  Mitch wasn’t a bit surprised, mind you. It was just different, like everything else about Jenna Armstrong.

  ‘I’ll have what she’s having,’ he told the barman and, even if the beer wasn’t going to be to his taste, it had been worth saying that just to catch the surprised delight in Jenna’s eyes as he used a famous movie line that she clearly recognised. He also got the impression that, while she might not have expected him to watch rom coms any more than he’d expected her to drink beer, she rather liked this new piece of information about him.

  Susie hadn’t come to this planned gathering to celebrate the end of the intensive course and their collective success in making the grade to become FRAME practitioners. She’d apologised as she explained that her husband had a long shift that day and the nanny had her own commitments. She said that she hoped to catch up with everybody next year, when they would be due to come back for a refresher course but she looked disappointed at having to rush off.

  She’d been shaking her head as she’d left with her certificate and new first aid kit. ‘How did life suddenly get quite so complicated?’ she’d asked.

  Mitch took a second sip of the boutique lager, which wasn’t bad at all, and the baskets of deep-fried bar snacks that were arriving on the long wooden table, like tiny samosas and spring rolls, potato skins and battered scampi, looked delicious. Thank goodness he’d already warned his father that this social conclusion to the course was planned and that he might be a lot later home this evening. Ollie hadn’t been bothered at all. Apparently a bubble bath was on the agenda as a treat and Grandpa was going to get his goodnight kiss as a bonus.

  Mitch could relax and do something he hadn’t done in a very long time, which was to simply enjoy the company of like-minded colleagues. Including Jenna. He wasn’t a student any longer and she wasn’t his instructor, which was making a surprising difference to how things felt between them.

  Or perhaps that had something to do with the fact that Jenna had changed out of her uniform before coming to the pub. She was in denim jeans, white sneakers on her feet and a well-worn-looking leather jacket over a T-shirt. Her black curls had been ruffled by gusts of wind as they’d all walked to the nearest pub and it looked as though she’d used a bit of make-up despite being so quick to get changed after the course had formally concluded. Whatever the reason, Mitch was again wondering how on earth he had thought she wouldn’t stand out in a crowd.

  She was stunning.

  And it was just as well he was sitting right beside her at this end of the long table because, otherwise, everybody would have noticed him staring at Jenna.

  Or maybe not. All his fellow course attendees seemed to be involved in animated conversations. Peter and Jack at the other end of the table were talking about something that needed diagrams or possibly a flow chart to be drawn on a paper napkin. Melanie and Indira were listening to a story Ravi was telling them and, at this end of the table, Judith was frowning as she read a text message on her phone.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘It’s my daughter. She had an antenatal check-up today so I’d better go and make a call somewhere a bit quieter and find out what’s going on.’ She squeezed out past Jenna, who moved sideways to make it easier which brought her close enough to Mitch for their thighs to touch.

  It was impossible not to notice that Jenna didn’t instantly move back but that was possibly because she hadn’t noticed with other things that were happening, like Judith excusing herself and someone passing a basket to their end of the table.

  ‘You guys had better get something to eat before it’s all gone.’

  Jenna beamed. ‘Yay. I love potato skins. Especially when they’re all crispy with Parmesan cheese on the top like this.’ She bit into one of the snacks and Mitch had to deliberately turn away so he didn’t keep watching her eat. That could well come across as being creepy, couldn’t it?

  ‘Looks like there are lots of good places to eat around here,’ he said. ‘Did you say you live not far away?’

  ‘Just round the corner.’ Jenna nodded. ‘And you’re right. I’ve got restaurants for just about every cuisine in the world within walking distance for take-outs. Afghani is my latest favourite.’

  ‘Not something we’ve got in Allensbury,’ Mitch said. ‘Or not that I’m aware of, anyway.’

  ‘You’re not into take-outs?’

  Mitch was taking another sip of his lager. This was a perfect opportunity to tell Jenna something about himself. That eating food that wasn’t home cooked was quite a rare treat in the Mitchell household, because he was trying to keep his four-year-old son’s diet as healthy as possible. He could also say that his dad was pretty conservative when it came to ethnic food but that would inevitably lead to talking about why three generations of Mitchell men were living in the same house and that would include his tragic personal history, which just wasn’t appropriate in this time and space.

  Being here, with this group—with Jenna—was not a part of his normal life. It was a treat. Like a take-out meal. Why spoil the enjoyment by talking about something that wasn’t relevant, like why he was a single father? Especially when that information could very well change the vibe between himself and Jenna. It would undoubtedly make her move to put more distance between them and, he had to admit, if he could, he wanted to enjoy that frisson of physical touch—and the evidence of attraction that went with it—for a bit longer.

  Judith came back but only to collect her bag and coat. ‘Have to go,’ she said. ‘Everything’s okay but my daughter sounds a bit stressed out. Thanks again, Jenna. The course was brilliant.’

  Peter stood up as well. ‘Better hit the road,’ he sighed. ‘Or I might be tempted to have another drink and it would be a long walk or a very expensive taxi ride home.’ He shook Jack’s hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Let’s stay in touch.’

  ‘I’ll walk out with you.’ Jack smiled at Jenna. ‘Thank you so much. I reckon we were pretty lucky to get you as our instructor.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch, too,’ Jenna promised. ‘I check in with all our FRAME practitioners on a regular basis.’

  ‘Good to know,’ Mitch murmured.

  Maybe Jenna had heard his comment given the way her gaze flicked sideways. And maybe that was the reason that Mitch was aware of the sudden electricity in the air between them. That simmering attraction had ignited in some fashion, enough to make even the air sizzle.

  Melanie was the last to leave, apart from Mitch. She also thanked Jenna profusely for her coaching.

  ‘I wouldn’t have got through that assessment scenario without you, either,’ she added. ‘I’ve always hated any kind of exam.’

  ‘You did well. I don’t think many people like performing in front of an audience but, you know, you’ll find that’s part of being a first
responder in an emergency situation. Sometimes there’s a crowd of onlookers and distressed family members but you do get used to it.’

  Melanie made a face. ‘If only I didn’t live so far away. I’d love to take you up on that offer of getting more experience by going out on the road for an ambulance shift.’

  ‘Talk to your local station. You’ll find they will be very supportive of any FRAME doctors and they’ll make space for you to join a crew. If you run into any problems, call me and I’ll talk to the station manager. You’re part of our team now.’

  Mitch turned to Jenna before Melanie had reached the door of the pub. ‘I didn’t hear about that offer.’

  ‘It was just chatting over lunch,’ Jenna responded. ‘But it applies to you as well. It’s a great way to keep your skills up and get used to being ready for anything. I love the shifts I do.’

  ‘I’m not sure where my closest ambulance station would be. We don’t often have to call them in to transport patients from our medical centre. I think the last one came from Guildford. Or possibly from around here, given that Croydon is our other closest hospital. I could make enquiries about picking up the odd shift in an ED, I guess. That’s where I used to work before switching to general practice.’

  ‘Yes, you said you used to work in emergency.’ Jenna nodded. ‘It’s a good idea. Or you could come here to do a few shifts. Sometimes it’s very different working out in the field—as you know.’ Jenna was sticking crumbs from the bottom of the potato skin basket to her finger as she spoke so she wasn’t looking directly at Mitch but then she glanced up and caught his gaze. ‘You could come out with me,’ she added. ‘In the rapid response vehicle. You get all the excitement of being sent to every potentially critical job and plenty of opportunity to use all your skills in situations that can be more challenging than an emergency department. Plus, you skip the downtime of having to transport patients to hospital or wait your turn for a Code Blue call if you’re out on an ambulance.’