funeral.’ She looked back to Harry. ‘Good luck today. Are you speaking?’
‘I am.’ Harry grimaced. ‘I’m just going to go and get my car washed and then—’
‘You should have washed it on your way home last night.’
‘I was tired.’
‘Bet you wish you’d done it last night this morning!’
‘No,’ Harry lied. ‘Actually, I’m going round to my office now to read through the speech and then go and sort out the car...’
‘Keep it short.’
‘Sorry?’ She was telling him how to speak at a funeral!
‘Short’s better,’ Marnie said.
‘This from a woman who never stops talking? So you’re an expert in funerals now, are you?’
‘Actually, now you mention it...’ She gave him a smile but then it turned to a more sympathetic one. ‘I hope it goes as well as it can.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Harry.’ She looked up at him, those blue eyes blazing, her lips worrying. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t stop myself. It is a funeral you’re going to after all...’ Two very cold but terribly beautiful hands were at his neck, fixing his collar and tie.
‘I can dress myself.’
‘I know,’ Marnie said, ‘but you were right, Kelly.’ She briefly glanced at Kelly, whose cheeks turned to ruby as she found out first hand that Marnie knew exactly what was being said about her. ‘I think I do have a touch of OCD and I just cannot let you go without fixing your collar, Harry.’ Oh, it was perfect now, collar down, knot in the centre. ‘After all, you’re representing the department!’
It wasn’t intimate in the least, Harry told himself, and that was confirmed two minutes later when he saw her in the corridor, dusting down Eric’s shoulders with a lint brush she just happened to keep in her office.
No, it wasn’t intimate, but why could he still feel her fingers on his neck?
Why, when he saw from his office Marnie disappearing into the on-call room, did he sit there, wondering if she’d undress for bed?
Oh, help, Harry thought as she came out shoeless in stockinged feet with her hair down and returned a moment later with a pair of scrubs in her hand to change from that navy dress into pyjamas.
No, the little finger gesture hadn’t been inappropriate—what was inappropriate was his thoughts on the morning of Dr Vermont’s funeral.
He got up and closed the door, so as not to think of her.
It didn’t work.
She’d drive you crazy, Harry told himself.
And as for bed, Harry attempted to alleviate the ache in his groin with the thought of Marnie moaning that she’d just changed the sheets, or maybe putting little towels down in case he dared to so much as spill a drop.
‘Filthy business!’ He could almost hear her saying it and, yes, that thought almost worked, except he remembered only too well their kiss and two minutes later Harry gave up focusing on the speech and headed out to get the car washed.
Anything for the distraction.
Marnie, his mind had decided, would be deliciously filthy.
* * *
‘Marnie!’
Marnie peeled her eyes open as she heard Miriam’s voice at the door. ‘Marnie.’
‘I’m up,’ Marnie called, and on autopilot headed to the sink and brushed her teeth. There was nothing worse than a two-hour sleep after a night shift.
Well, there was a whole lot worse, Marnie told herself as she washed her face, but the point she was making to herself was that getting up from a short sleep, when you really needed a long one, was one of the reasons she had always loathed nights.
Marnie stood shivering in scrubs and a cardigan in the kitchen, pouring herself a very strong coffee as Harry breezed in with a load of glasses that were on loan to the department. He did a double-take when he saw the usually very groomed Marnie a good inch shorter without her low heels and as pale as the milk she was pouring into her coffee.
‘I know.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It should be me they’re burying today.’
She dealt with death and all the horrible stuff with a black, wry
‘I am.’ Harry grimaced. ‘I’m just going to go and get my car washed and then—’
‘You should have washed it on your way home last night.’
‘I was tired.’
‘Bet you wish you’d done it last night this morning!’
‘No,’ Harry lied. ‘Actually, I’m going round to my office now to read through the speech and then go and sort out the car...’
‘Keep it short.’
‘Sorry?’ She was telling him how to speak at a funeral!
‘Short’s better,’ Marnie said.
‘This from a woman who never stops talking? So you’re an expert in funerals now, are you?’
‘Actually, now you mention it...’ She gave him a smile but then it turned to a more sympathetic one. ‘I hope it goes as well as it can.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Harry.’ She looked up at him, those blue eyes blazing, her lips worrying. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t stop myself. It is a funeral you’re going to after all...’ Two very cold but terribly beautiful hands were at his neck, fixing his collar and tie.
‘I can dress myself.’
‘I know,’ Marnie said, ‘but you were right, Kelly.’ She briefly glanced at Kelly, whose cheeks turned to ruby as she found out first hand that Marnie knew exactly what was being said about her. ‘I think I do have a touch of OCD and I just cannot let you go without fixing your collar, Harry.’ Oh, it was perfect now, collar down, knot in the centre. ‘After all, you’re representing the department!’
It wasn’t intimate in the least, Harry told himself, and that was confirmed two minutes later when he saw her in the corridor, dusting down Eric’s shoulders with a lint brush she just happened to keep in her office.
No, it wasn’t intimate, but why could he still feel her fingers on his neck?
Why, when he saw from his office Marnie disappearing into the on-call room, did he sit there, wondering if she’d undress for bed?
Oh, help, Harry thought as she came out shoeless in stockinged feet with her hair down and returned a moment later with a pair of scrubs in her hand to change from that navy dress into pyjamas.
No, the little finger gesture hadn’t been inappropriate—what was inappropriate was his thoughts on the morning of Dr Vermont’s funeral.
He got up and closed the door, so as not to think of her.
It didn’t work.
She’d drive you crazy, Harry told himself.
And as for bed, Harry attempted to alleviate the ache in his groin with the thought of Marnie moaning that she’d just changed the sheets, or maybe putting little towels down in case he dared to so much as spill a drop.
‘Filthy business!’ He could almost hear her saying it and, yes, that thought almost worked, except he remembered only too well their kiss and two minutes later Harry gave up focusing on the speech and headed out to get the car washed.
Anything for the distraction.
Marnie, his mind had decided, would be deliciously filthy.
* * *
‘Marnie!’
Marnie peeled her eyes open as she heard Miriam’s voice at the door. ‘Marnie.’
‘I’m up,’ Marnie called, and on autopilot headed to the sink and brushed her teeth. There was nothing worse than a two-hour sleep after a night shift.
Well, there was a whole lot worse, Marnie told herself as she washed her face, but the point she was making to herself was that getting up from a short sleep, when you really needed a long one, was one of the reasons she had always loathed nights.
Marnie stood shivering in scrubs and a cardigan in the kitchen, pouring herself a very strong coffee as Harry breezed in with a load of glasses that were on loan to the department. He did a double-take when he saw the usually very groomed Marnie a good inch shorter without her low heels and as pale as the milk she was pouring into her coffee.
‘I know.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It should be me they’re burying today.’
She dealt with death and all the horrible stuff with a black, wry
Similar Books
