Their Own Little Miracle. Caroline Anderson

Iona?’

      ‘I’ll go with the crab soufflé, please. It sounds lovely.’

      ‘Have sweet potato fries,’ he suggested. ‘They’re amazing.’

      ‘I don’t suppose they’ve got a single calorie in them, either,’ she said, laughing.

      ‘Calorie? No. Ridiculous idea. They do great puds, as well,’ he added with another mischievous grin, and sank his teeth into a slice of fresh, warm baguette slathered with butter.

      She couldn’t help but smile.

       CHAPTER TWO

      ‘WOW. THAT WAS so tasty.’

      ‘Mmm. And positively good for you.’

      She used the last sweet potato fry to mop up the remains of the crayfish cream. ‘Really?’ she said sceptically.

      He laughed and speared a fat, juicy flake of fish. ‘I doubt it, but one can live in hope. So, what were you doing at the speed dating gig?’ he asked, and she frowned, hugely reluctant to go back to that and wondering why she’d opened her mouth and blurted it out.

      ‘I told you.’

      His eyes widened, the fish on his fork frozen in mid-air. ‘You were serious? I thought you were winding me up.’

      ‘No. You probably deserved it, but I wasn’t.’

      He laughed, then looked back at her, those incredible eyes searching hers thoughtfully. ‘You’re genuinely serious, aren’t you?’

      ‘Yes. I genuinely am, but it’s not why I was there, not really. I was helping set it up, and they talked me into taking a table, but a bit of me was wondering if anyone appropriate might rock up.’

      ‘Iona.’ His voice dropped, becoming quieter but somehow urgent and his eyes were suddenly deadly serious. ‘Sorry, I know it’s really none of my business—’

      ‘No, it isn’t, and I don’t think this is really the time or the place.’

      He frowned, nodded and let it go, but only with obvious reluctance. ‘Yeah, you’re right. OK. So—tell me about yourself. Apart from that.’

      No way. ‘I’d rather talk about you,’ she said, smiling to soften it. ‘What brings you to Yoxburgh?’

      ‘Oh, that’s easy. As I said, my aunt lives here in a home and I spent a lot of time here as a child, the hospital has an expanding IR department, they were looking for a specialist registrar, I wanted to broaden my experience and it seemed like a perfect fit. Plus I get a free house to live in,’ he added with a little quirk of his lips that drew her attention back to them.

      She wondered what it would be like to kiss them...

      ‘So, why are you here?’ he asked, and she hauled her mind back into order and edited her answer because the truth was too messy.

      ‘Oh—similar reasons, really, work-wise. They’ve got a great ED department, I was looking for my first registrar’s job, I’d worked in Bristol up to now but frankly I’d seen enough of it—’ That was putting it mildly, but she wasn’t going into that. ‘And my family are based in Norfolk so it’s not too far from them, and it’s a great hospital, and I love the seaside. Not that I’ve seen much of it because the summer’s been rubbish and, anyway, my shift pattern’s pretty crazy and I haven’t had a lot of time because I’ve been studying, too.’

      ‘All work and no play, eh? Don’t do that, Iona. Keep your work/life balance. It’s really important.’

      She tilted her head slightly and searched his eyes, because there’d been something in his voice...

      ‘That sounded like personal experience,’ she said, and his eyes changed again.

      ‘Yeah, kind of. I know what it’s like. My shift pattern’s crazy, too, and on top of that I’ve got a mass of courses and exams coming up in the next year, but that’s IR for you. It doesn’t matter how hard I work, how much I learn, there’ll always be more.’

      ‘Is that “Do as I say, not as I do”?’ she asked, and he laughed and nodded.

      ‘Pretty much. Work can easily take over—not that I’m the best person to tell anybody how to run their life since I seem to have trashed my own, but there you go. You could always learn from my experience,’ he said, and went back to his fish and chips.

      ‘They look tasty. Can I pinch a chip?’

      ‘Be my guest,’ he said, and she took the last one off the plate as a shadow fell over the table.

      ‘Was everything OK for you both?’

      ‘Great, thanks.’ He looked up at Maureen and smiled. ‘Filling. I’ve eaten myself to a standstill.’

      ‘So you don’t want dessert? That’s not like you.’

      ‘Not tonight, I don’t think. Iona?’

      She would have loved a dessert. She’d spotted one on the specials board, but Joe didn’t seem inclined.

      ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to share the baked chocolate fondant?’ she asked wistfully, and he just groaned and laughed.

      ‘There’s my resolve going down the drain.’

      ‘That’s a yes, then,’ Maureen said with a smile. ‘One, or two? And do you want coffee with it?’

      He shook his head. ‘Just one, and no coffee for me, Maureen. Iona?’

      ‘No, I’m fine, thanks. The fondant will be more than enough.’

      It took ten minutes to come, but it was worth the wait and she was enjoying the view and the company.

      Maureen put the plate down between them, they picked up their spoons and Iona waited for him to cut it in half, but he didn’t, just dug his spoon in, so she joined in and kept eating until their spoons clashed in the middle.

      She glanced up, their eyes locked and he smiled and put his spoon down. ‘Go on. Finish it. It was your idea.’

      She didn’t argue, just pulled the plate closer, scraped it clean and put the spoon down a little sadly.

      ‘That was delicious. All of it. Thank you.’

      ‘You’re welcome. Shall we go?’

      She nodded, and he got to his feet, dropped a pile of notes on the bar in front of Maureen and they headed out into the darkness and a light drizzle.

      ‘Oh. I didn’t know it was going to do that,’ she said with a rueful laugh, but he just reached out and took her hand in a firm, warm grip and they ran, guided by the light of his phone, and got back to the house before they were more than slightly damp.

      ‘Coffee?’ he asked, heading for the porch and standing under the shelter.

      She hesitated on the drive. ‘I thought you didn’t want coffee?’

      ‘No, I didn’t want coffee there. I prefer mine, but I can’t say that to Maureen, can I? It would break her heart.’

      It made her laugh, as it was meant to, and she suddenly realised she did want a coffee, and she was also curious about the house, and his aunt, and—well, him, really.

      And she was getting wet.

      She stepped under the shelter of the porch and smiled. ‘Coffee would be lovely. Thank you.’

      He put the key in the door, turned it and pushed it open, flicking a switch that flooded the hall with light.

      ‘Welcome to the seventies,’ he said wryly, and stepped back to let her in.

      * * *

      It