Falling for Her Impossible Boss
Bella jumped. ‘Sorry, was I being rude? It’s just that I love your hair. If you could bottle a colour like that, you could make a fortune.’
‘It’s just grey.’
‘Oh, no …’ Bella shook her head emphatically. ‘It’s pure silver. And it sparkles. I had a pair of Lycra dance tights that were just that colour. I loved them, too.’
But Lady Dorothy had lapsed back into silence. She was just sitting there, against her pillows, staring into space. Bella moved around the room, tidying things here and there. Heavens, it was hardly going to impress Sally if she didn’t get anything more than a disparaging comment about hair colour as a response when she was supposed to be cheering this patient up.
The huge vase of fresh flowers probably needed some water but when Bella walked towards them, she caught her foot on a chair leg and sent something flying.
Thank goodness Mr Dawson wasn’t around to witness her clumsiness. She could almost hear his voice saying something scathing like how typical of her that was.
With an exasperated huff, Bella reached down to scoop up the bright pink object. Why on earth should she even care what he thought of her anyway? She wasn’t going to go back to being a theatre nurse. He’d put her off for life.
The huff became a gasp as she realised what she was holding.
‘Oh, my God!’ She held up the thick, fleecy track pants with the wide elasticised waistband and viewed the item of clothing with horror. And then she felt her cheeks getting hot and whirled around to face the woman in the bed. ‘I do apologise, Lady Dorothy,’ she said. ‘These must be yours.’
The look she got was pure ice. ‘They most certainly are not mine.’
‘Oh … thank God for that.’
Lady Dorothy was still glaring at her. Bella tried a tentative smile.
‘I shouldn’t say that because it’s no joke that my grandfather murdered my grandmother, but you know what?’
Lady Dorothy continued to stare but her eyebrows were moving slowly. In an upward direction. ‘What?’ The query was understandably wary.
Bella lowered her voice to a confidential tone. ‘If she’d been wearing pink track pants like this it could well have been a motive.’ Her lips twitched. ‘If I’d been on the jury and these were exhibit A then I’d certainly consider them to be an exonerating factor.’
Finally, there was a response from the elderly lady. A lip twitch that mirrored Bella’s. She unceremoniously rolled up the offending pants and put them back on the chair.
‘So, if they’re not yours, what are they doing in here? Shall I get rid of them for you?’
‘Best not, dear.’
‘How come?’
Lady Dorothy’s sigh was weary. ‘The occupational therapist brought them. I’m supposed to wear them because I’ll be able to put them on by myself.’
‘What? Is she trying to drive you to drink or something? What’s wrong with the kind of pants you usually wear? Oh …’ Bella grimaced. ‘Sorry, I’m putting my foot in it again. You probably don’t wear trousers at all. I’d imagine you wearing beautiful skirts and jackets or elegant dresses.’
‘I do wear trousers. I was wearing my favourite pair when I came in here. They’re hanging in the wardrobe.’
Bella opened the small closet. A pair of crisply pressed, pale grey linen pants could be seen. She lifted out the hanger and eyed the garment. ‘You know, I’m no expert but the only problem I can see with these is the zip and buttons and that could be easily fixed with an invisible strip of Velcro.’
Lady Dorothy was watching her closely now. ‘What about pulling them up?’
‘You could use one of those stick gripper things. Has the occupational therapist shown you all the aids you can get now?’
‘She showed me a lot of things.’ Lady Dorothy’s tone suggested she hadn’t been impressed.
‘Anyway,’ Bella added cautiously, ‘you’ll probably get a lot of movement back when the inflammation goes down. As long as you’re not as silly as my nanna was, that is.’
Lady Dorothy blinked. ‘What’s your nanna got to do with this? I thought you said she got murdered.’
‘That was Grandma. On my dad’s side and I never knew her. She was the skeleton in my family closet. Nanna was Mum’s mother and she lived with us for a while when she couldn’t manage any more. I loved her to bits.’
‘You said she was silly.’
Bella nodded, happy to finally have the old lady’s full attention. She wasn’t even looking sad any more. ‘She had a high horse. We used to tease her about getting on it so often.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘She was very critical of people she didn’t like—especially doctors. She didn’t believe in drugs of any kind. When she was diagnosed with her rheumatoid arthritis her GP told her to get off her high horse for once and do as she was told because if she didn’t take the painkillers and anti-inflammatories and do her exercises, she’d end up totally crippled by the disease.’
‘And did she?’
‘No. She went home and flushed all the pills down the loo and, of course, she couldn’t keep moving because her joints were all too swollen and sore and she did end up crippled and had to come and live with us.’ Bella sighed. ‘I wish she’d been put somewhere like here when she got sick. She would have loved my line-dancing classes. That would have got her moving.’
There was a sparkle in Lady Dorothy’s eyes now. A look of real interest. Determination, even? ‘What on earth is line dancing?’
Bella’s grin was mischievous. ‘I’ll come and get you tomorrow and you can find out.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I wouldn’t be dressed for it.’
It was Bella’s turn to raise her eyebrows significantly. ‘But you’ve got your clothes right there in the wardrobe. I’m not asking you to wear shocking pink trackie daks. In fact,’ she put on a stern face. ‘I’m quite sure they not allowed for line dancing.’
‘But …’
Bella could see a fear she could understand in this beautiful woman’s face. The fear of loss of dignity. Of losing herself in her disease. Without thinking, she went and perched her hip on the side of the bed and took one of Lady Dorothy’s hands in her own.
‘I do understand,’ she said softly. ‘I had to help my nanna with things that were just plain embarrassing for both of us until we got used to it but I learned something. Something important.’
She could see the effort it took Lady Dorothy to swallow and then speak. Her voice was a whisper. ‘What was that?’
‘That the physical stuff like being able to get dressed or even go to the loo by yourself—it’s all on the outside. If you can get past the inconvenience of needing help it doesn’t change a thing that really matters—the person you are on the inside.’
There was a long moment of silence. Bella shut her eyes for a moment to gather her courage.
‘We could have a go with your clothes now, if you like. That way we could find out what needs a bit of adjustment in the way of fastenings and things.’
More silence. It was obvious that some time was needed. ‘Have a think about it, anyway,’ Bella suggested. ‘In the meantime, I could tell you about something really funny that my kitten did this morning. Do you like cats?’
‘I used to.’ The tone was wistful. ‘I haven’t had a pet for many years.’
Bella smiled. ‘Well … I live with my aunt Kate who’s very particular about stuff and Bib—that’s the kitten—decided she wanted to see what was on top of the window and the quickest way up was to use the net curtains, only her claws got stuck and she got scared and started shouting.’ Bella was using her hands as she began her story but Lady Dorothy wasn’t watching. Her gaze kept straying to the wardrobe door that Bella had left open accidentally. The linen pants were in clear view.
She bit back a hopeful smile and went on with her story.
Oliver took a very roundabout route to make his way to the geriatric ward at seven that evening. It hadn’t been possible to locate a plain brown paper bag, so the bag of hamburgers and fries he carried was emblazoned with the red and yellow logo of the world-famous fast-food chain.
A bag he almost dropped when he entered his mother’s room. He had expected to find her in her bed. Not sitting in the armchair by the window—wearing her day clothes.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
‘You got dressed!’
‘Yes … and I feel so much more like myself.’ Lady Dorothy smiled at him.
‘How on earth …?’ The query trailed into silence. He’d been going to ask how she’d managed by herself but that would only be rubbing in the fact that she couldn’t. But she hadn’t been allowing anybody to help so how …?
‘I had some help.’ His mother nodded. ‘I met the most astonishing girl this afternoon. Bella. Simply delightful.’ She gave her son a thoughtful gaze. ‘Very pretty, too.’
‘Mother!’ Oliver shook his head but he was smiling. How could he not smile? This was a major step forward. ‘You know my rule about dating nurses. Or doctors. Or anyone else from work. It’s a no-go area. Always has been, always will be.’
It wasn’t as if he didn’t meet countless eligible women through the lavish fundraising occasions he was obliged to attend with his mother and it was rare to find any single woman who wasn’t eager to date the Dawson heir. Sex had never been a problem. Finding a woman suitable to produce the grandchild his mother yearned for was quite a different matter, however. It was a search that, quite frankly, Oliver was getting seriously bored by. Or maybe he was resisting because it wasn’t just that his mother was yearning for the next generation but that everybody expected it to happen.
‘Hmmph.’ Lady Dorothy sighed. ‘Anyway, this Bella used to look after her grandmother who had terrible arthritis so she knows all about it. She helped me and … and she managed to do it without making me feel like some kind of oversized infant.’
Oliver made a mental note to find the nurse called Bella and show his appreciation.
‘Oh …’ His mother bit her lip. ‘I meant her nanna, not her grandmother. She got murdered.’
‘Good grief.’ Oliver was setting out the food he’d brought on the end of the bed.
‘By her grandfather.’
Oliver’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Comes from a good family, then?’
‘Don’t be a snob, Oliver. She can’t help her family any more than any of us can. And she made me laugh.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Oliver said, and meant it. He screwed up the big paper bag and went to put it in the rubbish bin. There was something large and bright pink filling the metal bucket. He peered closer and then lifted the item out to see what it was.
His mother giggled.
Bella sneaked through the hospital corridors very carefully on her way to the geriatric ward at seven-thirty p.m., a box in her arms.
‘Shh …’ she said occasionally. ‘If we get caught, we’re going to be in big trouble, Bib.’
Amazingly, she made it to the ward without meeting anybody. The planned treat of letting Lady Dorothy play with a kitten for a few minutes could go ahead. It didn’t matter how frozen and sore her hands were right now. She would still be able to feel the softness of this fluffy kitten’s fur and have the pleasure of hearing the tiny animal purr.
She tapped softly at the closed door and then let herself in without waiting for a response.
‘Surprise,’ she whispered gleefully.
Except the surprise was hers. Perched on the end of Lady Dorothy’s bed, stuffing a hamburger into his mouth, was Oliver Dawson.
CHAPTER THREE
‘BELLA!’ Lady Dorothy sounded delighted. ‘You’ve come to visit me? What a lovely surprise.’
‘You’re Bella?’ Oliver Dawson sounded distinctly less delighted. In fact, he used the hand that wasn’t holding the hamburger to cover his eyes as he rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger.
‘Have you got a headache, darling?’ Lady Dorothy asked.
‘No.’ The word was a growl.
Bella was still staring, dumbfounded. Oliver Dawson was sitting on a patient’s bed eating a cheeseburger. A patient who had called him ‘darling’, no less.
A ripped-open packet of very unhealthy French fries was lying on the bed beside him, the contents well depleted. What’s more, he had loosened his tie, undone the top button of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up. Even his hair looked slightly dishevelled. He looked …
Human.
And gorgeous. Gorgeous enough to make Bella’s heart skip a beat. And then another. Uh-oh! She recognised that symptom a little too well. It was closely followed, as usual, by that melting sensation deep in her belly that ended with a delicious tingle. The fact that it was Mr Oliver Dawson she was feeling attracted to was disturbing to say the least.
‘This is my son, Oliver,’ Lady Dorothy said. ‘Oliver, this is Bella. I was telling you about her, remember?’
When he took his hand off his eyes, Oliver nodded wearily. He also looked straight at Bella and she could swear his colour had heightened and he had a haunted look in his eyes. He was quite obviously excruciatingly embarrassed. Well, of course he was. Caught out looking human and eating junk food!
Ha. Finally, she had the advantage.
Sadly, the feeling of one-upmanship lasted precisely five seconds at which point a scratching noise could be clearly heard coming from the box in her arms. Scratching that was followed by a very plaintive miaow.
Lady Dorothy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, my goodness … Did you bring Bib in to visit me?’
‘Um …’ Bella’s gaze slid away from Oliver’s but there was no getting out of this. A tiny paw had appeared in the centre hole where the flaps of the box didn’t quite meet, as though the kitten was putting her hand up to be noticed. ‘Yes.’
‘Show me.’ Lady Dorothy tried to shift the bag of French fries she had on her lap but she couldn’t hold it and it fell, spilling fries onto the floor. Before either her fumbled movement or the mess could even be commented on, Bella lifted the fluffy grey and white kitten from the box and deposited her on Lady Dorothy’s lap.
Bib, bless her, took one look at the old lady and stood up on her hind legs, stretching so that she could rub her head on Lady Dorothy’s jawbone. They could all hear the purring that filled the sudden silence in the room like a miniature chainsaw.
‘Oh … oh …’ Lady Dorothy’s voice had a noticeable wobble. ‘What a wee darling.’ She reached up and it didn’t seem to matter that she had to use the back of her hand to stroke the kitten. Bib nimbly climbed a little further, settled into a sphinx-like shape on the platform of a shoulder and started washing the nearest patch of skin she could find. Just beside the diamond stud twinkling in Lady Dorothy’s earlobe.
Lady Dorothy sniffed. And smiled, tilting her head to the side a little as a form of caress for the kitten.
Bella had to swallow a lump in her own throat as she observed the pleasure being taken on both sides of the newly formed friendship. When she heard the masculine throat being cleared behind her, she turned in astonishment. Was the poignancy of his mother’s joy enough to give him a lump in his throat? Maybe he was capable of caring about others.
Maybe she was going to have to readjust her opinion of him.
Oliver knew he had to say something but, for the life of him, he couldn’t think what.
He’d seen this nurse in pale green, shapeless theatre scrubs with a hat trying to cover her hair. He’d seen her in a dark blue, only slightly less shapeless nurse’s uniform, with her hair scraped back and tied into a semblance of submission. When she walked into his mother’s room, it was like seeing a totally different woman.
The oversized T-shirt had a neck big enough to have fallen over one shoulder to reveal a singlet top beneath. Long, long legs were encased in tight leggings and ended with shoes that had impossibly high heels. And the hair was loose. A glorious cascade of golden curls that went halfway down her back and would make any man’s fingers itch to bury themselves in its length.
Dear God, what was he thinking? This was the nurse who had elderly patients up line dancing. Who was breaking umpteen rules right now bringing an animal into a hospital ward. Who bumped into things and huffed germs all over Theatre because she was clearly distracted by more important things—like the next new pair of shoes, perhaps?
Except that right now she wasn’t thinking about shoes. And if she’d brought any germs into the room with that kitten, the risk was more than worth it because his mother had not only forgotten why she was here, she had tears of joy rolling down her cheeks and Oliver had never seen that before. Ever.
His mother was not the only one crying either. Bella had turned towards him when he’d cleared his throat a moment ago and those extraordinarily big, blue eyes were shining with moisture. Those full, soft-looking lips were curved into a smile, too. Not the mischievous type of grin they usually looked ready to impart. This was much softer. An expression of empathy and an invitation to share the gift of what was happening with his mother and the kitten.
He really ought to say something. He couldn’t sit here staring at her. Not when she was staring back at him and the eye contact had gone on just that shade too long.
An urge to say something about hospital regulations regarding the lack of visitation rights for pets sprang to mind as Oliver managed to break the eye contact but his gaze fell on the evidence of his appalling dinner still spread over the bed. If his colleagues heard about this, especially the cardiac surgeons, he’d be a laughing stock, and avoiding any such humiliation had always been inbred in any member of the Dawson family.
Oliver sucked in a breath as he looked back at the kitten and then at Bella.
‘Ah … could I suggest that whatever happens in Lady Dorothy’s room after hours stays in Lady Dorothy’s room?’
Relief flooded Bella’s face, which then lit up with precisely the kind of mischievous grin he knew she’d been capable of. Oddly, it had a glow that he hadn’t expected. One that crossed the room and made him feel … warm. Happy? Oliver couldn’t be sure because it was a very unfamiliar sensation. Definitely not unpleasant, however.
‘Sweet,’ Bella said. She cast a significant glance at the remnants of fast food and dimples flashed in her cheeks. She was obviously trying not to laugh.
Which was good because it annoyed Oliver and dispersed the strange effect of her smile.
‘I’d better go, though,’ she added. ‘I wouldn’t want to get caught by anyone else doing something so illegal.’
‘Don’t go,’ Lady Dorothy begged. ‘Not yet.’
‘I’ll be back tomorrow. I really should take Bib home.’
‘But …’ There was a vaguely desperate undertone in Lady Dorothy’s voice. Oliver found himself holding his breath. Judging by the sudden anxiety on Bella’s face, it looked as if she was doing the same thing.
‘What is it, Mother?’ Oliver prompted gently.
‘I … I need some help. To get ready for bed. And …’ Her lips were visibly trembling now but her face said it all. It was Bella who she trusted and wanted to help her.
Bella carefully lifted the kitten from where she’d climbed down to go to sleep on Lady Dorothy’s lap. ‘No worries.’ The tone was casual enough to make it seem like no big deal, which seemed to remove any of the embarrassment that was most likely causing his mother’s distress. ‘I’ll put Bib back in her box and then we’ll get you sorted.’
Oliver got to his feet. ‘I’ll get out of the way.’ He paused as he got near the door, having kissed his mother’s cheek and wished her a good night. He took a final glance at Bella.
What an extraordinary girl she was. Both intensely irritating and utterly remarkable. How did she know exactly what to do or say to make something that couldn’t possibly be all right at least acceptable? And how on earth could he thank her for what she’d already done for his mother? Something nobody else had been able to do. Something huge. As big as showing her that life was still worth living?
Something too big to put into words, anyway.
‘Thank you, Bella.’ The words were totally inadequate. Oliver could only hope that trying to convey his appreciation by holding her eye contact and smiling would be enough.
That look and that smile was still with Bella when she released Bib from the confines of the box, having arrived home at her aunt’s house again.
She had done something that Oliver Dawson approved of.
How amazing was that?
Not that she’d had any idea that Lady Dorothy was his mother. Just as well she hadn’t, really, or she wouldn’t have considered doing something as illegal as sneaking a kitten into the ward in a million years.
Right now, she couldn’t be more pleased that she’d taken that risk. For once, something had worked out even better than she’d planned and it felt so good. Doing something that had pleased Oliver Dawson also felt extraordinarily good. The buzz was making Bella feel unbelievably happy.
Or maybe it was that look from those dark, dark eyes. The look that said she was good enough. Special, even. That smile that had gone straight to a point deep in her body and tugged on it.
Oh, help … If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for this surgeon, hook, line and sinker. Bella never had trouble falling in love. She fell out of it again just as easily. But something about that moment of connection felt different.
The waters she could be falling into there were a hell of a lot deeper than any she’d been near before.
Dangerous waters.
She could drown given that the possibility of the potential lifeboat of the attraction being reciprocated to an equal degree was non-existent.
‘A bit of fantasy couldn’t hurt, though, could it?’ she murmured to Bib as she cuddled the kitten for a moment before putting her down on the floor. ‘It’s no worse than having the hots for a movie star, is it?’
Bib flicked her pointy little tail and held it straight up like a flag as she trotted down the hallway. Bella looked into the guest suite that was her room. The solitude and opportunity to sit and dream for a while was very attractive but it would be rude not to go and talk to Aunty Kate. She could hear voices in the kitchen. Following them, she found her pathologist aunt barefoot and relaxed, indulging in her favourite pastime of cooking. Her fiancé, orthopaedic surgeon Connor Matthews, was standing behind Kate, his hands resting on her hips and his chin on her shoulder. He was, in fact, nuzzling her aunt’s neck.
And Kate was leaning back into the embrace, swaying gently. The pleasure they were both taking from simply being so close to each other was palpable.
Bella suddenly felt like she was intruding into a very private space. One that she couldn’t approve of more, given how much real joy Kate’s life had been missing before Connor had swept her off her feet and onto the back of his motorbike, but really she should back out and give them the chance to start their lives together without having to worry about an audience.
Connor was the first to notice Bella’s arrival.
‘Hey! How’s it going? Did you find what you’d left at work?’
‘Mmm.’
Kate spoke without looking away from the pot she was stirring. ‘Really, Bella. You’ve got to start looking after your stuff a bit more carefully. You’ll lose something important one of these days.’
So true. Like her heart, maybe?
Kate gave a squeak then, and looked down. Bib was trying to climb up her jeans. ‘Ouch … where did you spring from? I’ve been wondering where you’d got to.’ She prised the kitten away from her leg and handed her to Connor. ‘Could you feed her, please, hon? That way she won’t try and eat my leg.’ She turned further to smile at Bella. ‘You going to eat with us?’
Bella hesitated. ‘I don’t want to get in the way of you two lovebirds.’