definitely not a ticket to happy-ever-after land. He didn’t want commitment. He really, really didn’t want marriage and two point four kids and a dog and a cottage with roses round the door and hollyhocks in the front garden. And Kirsty…He’d asked her once why she never dated. She’d said she wanted to concentrate on her career. But she was heading for thirty—the time when many women’s biological clocks started to tick. Had he started her clock ticking by giving her a proper engagement ring and making love with her? If he had, after what they’d shared last night, would he be the one she wanted to settle down with?
He couldn’t be so selfish as to expect her just to have sex with him and still be his best friend when it fizzled out. Because it would fizzle out—it always did. Yet now he’d made love with her…he didn’t think he could live with her platonically either. Last night had been incredible. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. Even now, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, taste her; he wanted her to touch him, too, stroke his skin and kiss him and—
He didn’t do relationships.
But it didn’t stop him wanting to kiss the nape of her neck, nuzzle her shoulder, turn her round in his arms and lose himself in her.
What a mess. What a complete and utter mess.
He knew Kirsty was awake. Although she hadn’t said a word and her breathing was still deep and regular, she was unnaturally still. Which meant she was trying to make him think she was asleep until…What?
Face it, he thought. They both had to face it. The sooner, the better. He stroked her hair. ‘Kirst? You awake?’
She shifted so that she was facing him. ‘Ben.’
There was a very, very long pause.
‘About last night…’ they both began.
They both stopped and smiled.
‘Great minds think alike,’ he quipped.
‘Last night. We know what it was. Just comfort—celebrating life,’ said Kirsty.
It happened with most medics at some point, Ben thought. It was their way of coping with losing a patient—their way of facing the future and reminding themselves that life had to go on. They’d lost Marty, and then they’d…acted out of character.
‘It doesn’t change anything between us,’ Ben said.
‘Of course not. We feel the same way,’ Kirsty echoed.
‘Yes.’
‘We’re still friends.’
‘Still friends,’ he confirmed, relieved. And yet part of him was…what? Disappointed? Crazy. He didn’t want commitment. Why should he be disappointed that she didn’t either?
‘That’s good.’ She dropped a kiss on the end of his nose. ‘I need a shower.’
‘Go ahead.’
She coughed. ‘Um, do you mind closing your eyes?’
Closing his eyes? After what they’d done together last night, she was shy ? He smiled indulgently. ‘Of course.’
‘Thanks.’ She retrieved her nightshirt and pulled it on. ‘See you in a bit,’ she said, giving him his cue to open his eyes again.
She was covered to well below the knee, those beautiful curves hidden behind the baggy cotton. Probably just as well, he thought wryly. If he had a visual reminder of what she’d felt like in his arms, he’d probably pull her back into his bed and to hell with the consequences. Consequences that would catch up with them in the end. No, this way was better. The sensible way.
‘See you in a bit,’ he echoed.
He stayed in bed, thinking, after she closed the door. Kirsty had made it very clear that last night had been a one-off. ‘Comfort—celebrating life,’ she’d said. Meaning that it had been just sex for her.
Sex. Not the best thing to think about, he acknowledged wryly as his body informed him that sex with Kirsty was just fine and dandy, as far as it was concerned. You just didn’t have sex with your best friend—particularly when she was heading for the top in her chosen career and wouldn’t allow anything else in her life to get in the way.
And he ignored the very soft voice in his head that asked if it had
He couldn’t be so selfish as to expect her just to have sex with him and still be his best friend when it fizzled out. Because it would fizzle out—it always did. Yet now he’d made love with her…he didn’t think he could live with her platonically either. Last night had been incredible. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. Even now, he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, taste her; he wanted her to touch him, too, stroke his skin and kiss him and—
He didn’t do relationships.
But it didn’t stop him wanting to kiss the nape of her neck, nuzzle her shoulder, turn her round in his arms and lose himself in her.
What a mess. What a complete and utter mess.
He knew Kirsty was awake. Although she hadn’t said a word and her breathing was still deep and regular, she was unnaturally still. Which meant she was trying to make him think she was asleep until…What?
Face it, he thought. They both had to face it. The sooner, the better. He stroked her hair. ‘Kirst? You awake?’
She shifted so that she was facing him. ‘Ben.’
There was a very, very long pause.
‘About last night…’ they both began.
They both stopped and smiled.
‘Great minds think alike,’ he quipped.
‘Last night. We know what it was. Just comfort—celebrating life,’ said Kirsty.
It happened with most medics at some point, Ben thought. It was their way of coping with losing a patient—their way of facing the future and reminding themselves that life had to go on. They’d lost Marty, and then they’d…acted out of character.
‘It doesn’t change anything between us,’ Ben said.
‘Of course not. We feel the same way,’ Kirsty echoed.
‘Yes.’
‘We’re still friends.’
‘Still friends,’ he confirmed, relieved. And yet part of him was…what? Disappointed? Crazy. He didn’t want commitment. Why should he be disappointed that she didn’t either?
‘That’s good.’ She dropped a kiss on the end of his nose. ‘I need a shower.’
‘Go ahead.’
She coughed. ‘Um, do you mind closing your eyes?’
Closing his eyes? After what they’d done together last night, she was shy ? He smiled indulgently. ‘Of course.’
‘Thanks.’ She retrieved her nightshirt and pulled it on. ‘See you in a bit,’ she said, giving him his cue to open his eyes again.
She was covered to well below the knee, those beautiful curves hidden behind the baggy cotton. Probably just as well, he thought wryly. If he had a visual reminder of what she’d felt like in his arms, he’d probably pull her back into his bed and to hell with the consequences. Consequences that would catch up with them in the end. No, this way was better. The sensible way.
‘See you in a bit,’ he echoed.
He stayed in bed, thinking, after she closed the door. Kirsty had made it very clear that last night had been a one-off. ‘Comfort—celebrating life,’ she’d said. Meaning that it had been just sex for her.
Sex. Not the best thing to think about, he acknowledged wryly as his body informed him that sex with Kirsty was just fine and dandy, as far as it was concerned. You just didn’t have sex with your best friend—particularly when she was heading for the top in her chosen career and wouldn’t allow anything else in her life to get in the way.
And he ignored the very soft voice in his head that asked if it had
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