The Fairy Tale Bride Page 8

  Lisa bit her lip and gave the dress a shake. It was still beautiful. It would just never be her dress. She would never even consider wearing it now.

  She glanced at the price tag, blinked and then tore it off. This dress would fit someone else. She pulled another price tag from behind the cash desk and rewrote it. One third of the original price. Someone would want it. Someone would buy it.

  She hung it on the rail next to the others. It was nearly six o’clock. Time for her shift at the hospital.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  She was curled up next to a little girl again. Not on the bed. This time the child, dressed in pajamas and covered in a thick pink blanket was on Lisa’s knee, tucked under her chin on a recliner chair.

  Lisa’s voice carried outside. It was calming and melodic even though the pitch and tone changed depending where she was in the story.

  Tonight’s rendition was Sleeping Beauty.

  The little girl’s fingers stroked the pages of the well-worn book. Adam tried not to flinch at the thought of an infection risk. Sometimes he just couldn’t push the doctor stuff out of his head.

  He glanced at the board for the name. Alice Kearsley. Of course. The little girl with leukaemia. He frowned. It was the middle of summer and the hospital was stifling yet Alice was obviously cold. But Lisa, who was probably sweltering under that blanket, didn’t seem to mind.

  He walked over to the desk. “Any problems I should know about?”

  Mary lifted her head from the computer. “Anyone in particular you’re concerned about?” she said pointedly.

  “Alice Kearsley. She’s bundled up and it’s hot in here. Has there been a change in her condition?”

  Mary lifted a chart and handed it to him. “Take a look. I did her observations just before Lisa arrived. Nothing unusual.”

  He ran his eye down the chart. Mary was right. Maybe he was over-reacting.

  He walked back to the doorway. Neither Lisa or Alice seemed to notice. Both were too engrossed in the story.

  “She’s so beautiful,” sighed Alice. “I would love to look like a princess, just like she does.” There was that whimsical tone in her voice. The one from a child who actually still believed in fairy tales.

  Lisa’s full attention was on the little girl. She reached up and stroked her hair. “When you feel a little better you can come to my bridal salon. I’ll let you try on any dress that you want. I can make you any kind of princess,” she said quietly.

  “Can I? Can I really?”

  “Of course.”

  Something twisted inside his guts. The words were obviously heartfelt. It was clear she meant every one. But he still couldn’t figure her out. What was she doing here? And why the reaction the other night?

  No matter how hard he tried, the tiny comment about income and money had niggled him. There was no way Lisa could know about his lottery win. As far as he knew, no one in Marietta knew about it.

  He liked her. There was no way around it. But there seemed to be so much about Lisa that he didn’t know.

  All he knew for certain was that her kiss had stayed with him. He’d never felt a sizzle like it before. Maybe it was all the flirting beforehand? But, as a teenager, he’d dated a girl for months before kissing her, and it hadn’t felt anything like that.

  Mary walked up alongside him and folded her arms. “You should talk to her, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’ve been hanging around here for the last few days. And no offence, Adam, but I know it’s not me you’re here to see.”

  He hesitated. Lisa was still focused on Alice. They’d gone back to the Sleeping Beauty story. Alice’s eyes were slowly beginning to droop.

  “Why does she come here? Why does she do this?”

  He turned to face Mary who bit her lip. She glanced in the room again. “That’s her business. You’ll need to ask her.” She reached out and touched his arm. “A little tip, give her a minute or two after she comes out.”

  Mary turned and walked down the corridor leaving him intrigued. He moved a bit further away and after a few minutes Lisa came out, closing the door quietly behind her.

  She stood for a second, then fumbled in her pocket for a tissue, wiping her eyes.

  The act was like a winter’s breeze on a summer’s day. Every hair at the back of his neck stood on end and his breath caught in his chest. Lisa wasn’t related to this child. She only knew this child through her work at the hospital but it was obvious she’d connected with her.

  Alice’s leukaemia was severe. The treatment was taking its toll on her little body and she wasn’t responding quite the way they’d hoped. Right now, this little girl couldn’t be promised any happy ever afters.

  He couldn’t stop his feet from moving. Everything about this was pure instinct. He couldn’t bear to watch her cry.

  He crossed the corridor in a matter of moments and put his arm around her shoulders pulling her towards him. There was the briefest hint of recognition before she buried her head into his chest and quietly sobbed. He moved, walking her away from the room and across the corridor towards another room, closing the door behind them.

  The tenseness of her muscles dissipated and she relaxed against him, her sobs gradually slowing.

  He reached down and stroked her hair, just like she’d been doing for Alice. He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up towards his. “Lisa? Tell me what’s wrong? Is this just about Alice?”

  Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes were heavy with tears. She nodded for a second and then shook her head, resting it against his chest again. Her voice was low. “I know,” she whispered. “I know how sick she feels…and what could lie ahead for her. I know how hard this is for her, and for her family.”

  Something gripped his chest like a vise. “You had leukaemia?”

  She shook her head and looked up towards him as a stream of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I didn’t. My sister did. Grace, she was looked after here. For a long time this place was like my second home.”

  It was just the way she said the words. The cracking of her voice. The emotion in her tone. He had to ask the question, even though he was sure of the answer. “What happened to her?”

  Lisa squeezed her eyes shut. “She died.” Saying the words out loud obviously pained her. “She died when she was eight.”

  He couldn’t explain the empathy that swept over him. He’d always been sympathetic towards patients and families. But this felt different. This was real put-yourself-in-her-shoes kind of stuff. No wonder Lisa volunteered here. No wonder she was so invested in this place.

  Lots of people struggled with hospitals. For some families hospitals were only associated with bad or painful memories. Only a select few could turn it around like Lisa had.

  And she’d been so strong for Alice – even when she was obviously falling apart inside.

  He kept his arms around her, letting the warmth of her body meld with his. He didn’t care about her reactions the other night. He didn’t care about the tiny seeds of doubt that had wiggled their way into his mind.

  This was what mattered. This was what was important.

  “I’m so sorry about your sister,” he murmured. “Now I understand why you like to volunteer here.” He took a long slow breath. “I get it,” he said. “You were making a difference tonight with Alice – just like you were with Mrs. Goldman. Sometimes the work that volunteers do goes unnoticed – or unaccredited. Don’t think for a moment you’re not making a difference here, because you are.”

  After a few minutes she lifted her head towards his. Her eyelids were heavy. “Thank you.” She whispered. Her breaths were still shuddery. The little pulse at the bottom of her throat racing underneath the skin. He lifted his hand and slid it through her hair at the side of her head.

  “You should have told me. I knew Mary wasn’t saying something.”

  She lifted her hand and rested it against her chest. “She wouldn’t. Mary
was the nurse that held me when my sister died – she’d just started here. I can still remember how good she was with Grace – with us all. It was her that encouraged me to be a volunteer.”

  “You’ve been doing this a while?”

  She gave a little smile. “Since the year after my sister died. There’s no age restrictions on volunteers. Melody and I used to come in and play with the other kids in the children’s ward on weekends.”

  He smiled. “You’ve been coming here that long?”

  She finished drying her eyes and nodded her head. There was something surer about it – a determination.

  He slid his arm around her shoulders. “Have you time for a coffee? Let’s go to the canteen.”

  As he opened the door he didn’t even take his hand from her shoulders. He didn’t really care about anyone seeing him with Lisa.

  Mary raised her head from the desk, the edges of her lips turning upwards. “I’ll page you if I need you, Dr. Brady,” she said.

  Chapter Eight

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  What had possessed her? She wasn’t exactly the world’s finest cook but after today’s incident at the hospital she’d asked Adam if he wanted to come for dinner.

  Now, she was mid-panic. A long time ago she’d owned a recipe book that was her mother’s. Where it was now was anyone’s guess. Her food repertoire wasn’t vast. Roast chicken, an almost passable lasagne, some penne pasta with the whole world thrown in and some kind of spicy sauce or lentil soup. That was basically the sum total of what she could cook. Hardly invite a guy round kind of thing.

  Maybe she could just bake? Baking was definitely her thing. Cheesecakes, carrot cake, apple pie, cookies, cream gateaux, red velvet cake or huckleberry dessert – any one of them she could whip up in a heartbeat.

  She looked around the kitchen and grabbed her apron, a smile dancing across her lips. Adam would probably expect a steak or some burgers or ribs. Let’s see what he would make of this.

  *

  He couldn’t believe how nervous he was as he reached out and rang the bell. This was ridiculous. But it felt as though there was a party going on in his stomach right now.

  He leaned forward a little. Was that laughter he could hear?

  He pressed the bell again. Music was floating through the air. Some kind of country and western style and there was definitely singing.

  The door was flung open. Lisa, with an apron on and flour on the tip of her nose and ends of her hair.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Come in,” she said a little merrier than expected. She gestured him in towards her open plan kitchen and living room.

  The apartment above the bridal salon was bigger than he expected with large windows looking out over the street.

  His eyes widened. The dining room table was groaning with the amount of cakes and pies on it. He couldn’t help but smile. “Is this some kind of party? I thought we were having dinner?” He handed over the bunch of flowers he was currently gripping too tightly. There were lucky to still be alive.

  Lisa looked touched as she took them. She buried her flour-covered nose amongst them and breathed deeply. “These are gorgeous, thank you,” she walked over to the sink and started filling a vase. “And look, red gerberas and purple larkspurs – my favorites.” She gave a little smile. “It’s almost as if you knew.”

  He sent a silent prayer upwards for his lucky break. Just as well Kaitlin in the florists had told him exactly what to get.

  As she stood at the sink he tried not to stare. It hadn’t been obvious at first because of the apron – but Lisa wasn’t exactly fully dressed. Her long legs and pert bum were exposed by a pair of skimpy denim shorts coupled with a white t-shirt. All his thoughts right now involved licking that flour off the tip of her nose.

  Once she’d put the flowers in the vase and set it on the middle of the table she opened the fridge and lifted out an open bottle of sparkling wine. She held it up towards Adam. “Want some? Or I got you some beer, what would you prefer?”

  It was a loaded question. Now he knew the reason for the merriment. What he really wanted to say was You, out of those shorts but he didn’t think he could go there yet.

  He pointed to the bottle. “I’ll have what you’re having,” seemed the obvious response.

  Her own glass mysteriously appeared from the kitchen counter top and she reached up for another. Her loose shirt shucking up to reveal her bare-skinned waist. This time he just couldn’t help but stare.

  It was almost as if she knew. She filled the two glasses and then untied the apron, dumping it on the counter top. She looked down at her shorts and her white button-down t-shirt. Most of the buttons weren’t fastened. He was getting the tiniest hint of cleavage. He was hoping it stayed that way.

  “Oops,” she said. “I meant to get changed before you arrived.” Her hand swept over the array of cakes. “But I guess I got carried away.”

  He turned to face her. The atmosphere between them was charged. “Why did you do that?” He walked slowly around the table. “What’s with all the cakes? Couldn’t you decide what to make? I thought we were having dinner?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. It was almost a pout. But Lisa probably didn’t know how to pout. “I guess I was trying to impress you.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “And why would you want to do that?”

  Another loaded question. They were getting good at these.

  She handed him one of the glasses and stepped a little closer. “Give me a minute to get changed.”

  Her scent filled his nostrils. Flowery, peachy with a hint of something else.

  He couldn’t help it. As he reached for the glass his other hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t,” he said quietly.

  “Don’t what?” she asked, her brow wrinkling.

  His eyes were fixating on the up and down movement of her breasts hidden underneath the thin material. It clung to every curve, bunching up around her waist, barely covering her hips and leading him downwards to her shapely slightly tanned legs.

  Her legs shifted under his gaze. “You don’t want me to get changed,” she said throatily.

  “Oh no.” He downed his wine in one gulp, setting the glass down and hooking his other hand around her hip and pulling her closer. He couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

  She didn’t object. She didn’t object at all. Just looked up at him through heavy eyes and tilted her head to one side. “I thought you preferred me in dresses?” There was a hint of teasing in her voice.

  It was already a warm evening. But the temperature in here was sky high.

  “Oh no,” he said slowly, “I definitely prefer you in shorts.” He pulled her up against him. “Definitely in shorts.” His finger stroked down the side of her face, catching the hair on her shoulder and pulling it back to reveal the delicate skin around her neck.

  She sucked in a breath as he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Maybe even in something less.”

  She shifted her position, leaning back against the table covered in cakes. “Adam Brady, I spent all afternoon baking for you. Aren’t you even going to try some out?”

  He loved it. The tone of her voice. The teasing. It was as if telling him about her sister and why she spent so much time at the hospital had just lifted a weight off her shoulders. It had brought them closer together. She was more relaxed around him. And he liked it. A lot.

  There was no way he was letting her out of his hands. So he moved forwards, practically pinning her to the table, his full body weight against hers. “Where do you suggest we start?” he said hoarsely.

  She leaned to one side, her breasts brushing against his chest. This woman was going to drive him crazy. One of his hands lowered, brushing against the smooth skin of her thigh and he felt her muscles tighten against him.

  “Or how about we make this more interesting?” he said, reaching around her and pushing the cakes to one side. It only took a second to hitch her further up on the table. She
started to laugh. A sultry laugh, from deep within her as her legs parted to allow him to get closer.

  Before she could lean back he grabbed the hem of her loose t-shirt and pulled it over her head. “I’ve just decided how I want to eat my cake,” he said.

  She leaned back on her elbows, her pale blue eyes fixed on his. “I think this works both ways.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. The shirt was yanked over his head in an instant. He picked up the nearest piece of chocolate and cream gateau, balancing it beneath the curve of her breasts. His hands smeared the cream underneath the wire on her bra and across her quivering belly.

  He lowered his head as she watched. He moved his hands to either side of her, leaning on the table, his head and shoulders just hovering above her. She flinched and pulled her stomach tighter as his warm breath danced over her skin.

  “I like to take my time over dessert,” he said huskily.

  Her head fell backwards as her body arched towards his. “Take as much time as you like,” she groaned.

  It was all the response he needed. His tongue moved across her abdomen, devouring her and the cake, licking the cream and chocolate, stopping every few seconds to taunt her, tease her just a little more. Her hands grabbed at his head, running her fingers through his short hair, keeping his head firmly in place as he neared her breasts.

  He slid one hand underneath her, unclipping the bra with relative ease and pushing it upwards. She arched towards him again, a gleam in her eyes, as he lifted one knee on to the table, then the other.

  It groaned a little under their combined weight as plates started crashing all around them. His tongue flicked out. “Lisa, I promise you, that at some point I’ll give your desserts the attention they deserve.”

  Desire flickered from her eyes as her hands moved from his head and ran down his spine, anchoring on his behind and pulling him against her.

  “The desserts can wait,” she growled. “I can’t.”