Laura felt the flush on her cheeks deepen as her nipples peaked in response to his nearness. She quickly slid past him, keeping her face averted as she filled the kettle and plugged it in. Mark didn’t say anything as he carried on clearing the table, but there was less comfort in the silence than there might have been.
Had he noticed her response just now? she wondered miserably. And had he been as shocked by it as she was? After all, they were little more than strangers so surely anyone would have been shocked to witness such blatant evidence of her…her arousal!
Her hands shook so hard as she took two cups out of the cupboard that one of them slipped through her fingers and shattered as it hit the tiled floor. Laura gasped in dismay, her eyes filling with tears as she saw what she’d done.
‘I’m sorry! I don’t know how that happened. Oh, I don’t know what to say…’ She knelt down to gather up the shards of china, wincing as she inadvertently knelt on a jagged piece.
‘Leave it! It’s only a cup, Laura. It doesn’t matter.’ Mark was beside her in an instant, his face full of concern as he saw the blood welling through her tights.
‘Hell’s teeth, you’ve cut your knee!’ he declared, drawing her upright with a firm hand under her elbow. Pulling over one of the kitchen stools, he urged her to sit down. ‘Sit there while I get the first-aid kit from the bathroom.’
‘There’s no need…’ she began, but he was already hurrying from the room. She rested her head against a cupboard and closed her eyes, overwhelmed by misery and shame. How could she have felt like that just now? How could she have responded that way to any man apart from Ian?
‘Here we go.’
Mark came back with a green plastic box and placed it on the worktop close to where she sat. He opened the lid then turned to her. ‘Can you take those tights off so that I can check there’s nothing in that cut?’
Laura’s face flamed at the thought of undressing in front of him, but before she could assure him that the injury was too minor to require any attention he added smoothly, ‘I’ll just get some water to clean it with while you do that.’
Deliberately, he turned his back on her as he went to the sink and ran water into a basin. It was obvious that he’d sensed her reluctance to comply with his request and was giving her some privacy.
Laura got up and quickly wriggled the ruined hose over her hips then tossed the small bundle into the waste bin. ‘I…I’m ready,’ she said in a quiet little voice, studiously avoiding Mark’s gaze as he looked round.
‘Good.’ He came back with the basin and knelt in front of her. Lifting her foot onto his bent knee, he carefully examined the cut. Laura bit her lip, trying not to think about how it felt to have his cool fingers skating so gently over her warm flesh, but it was impossible not to be aware of the sensations they aroused. Flashes of heat and cold raced under her skin, making her alternately shiver and burn as if with fever. When he looked up it was an effort to feign indifference as she saw the concern in his eyes.
‘It really hurts, doesn’t it? Damn!’
He seemed to blame himself for her injury, which was so unfair that she hastened to reassure him. ‘It isn’t too bad. And it was my own fault for being so clumsy. I’m not usually so careless, Mark. I’m sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter…honestly!’ He shook his head to emphasise the point so that a swathe of light brown hair fell across his forehead. Laura was instantly transported back to that morning when they’d met. In a flash she recalled how he had looked dressed in those shorts and vest, his skin gleaming with health and vitality over those perfectly toned muscles.
Her breath caught so that she had to make a conscious effort to exhale, and missed what he said. Why was she so aware of him? she wondered sickly. Why did he arouse feelings in her which no man apart from Ian had been able to do?
‘Laura?’
He touched her lightly on the hand and she flinched. He’d obviously noticed her abstraction but he made no mention of it as he quietly repeated the question. ‘Are you allergic to adhesive dressings?’
She shook her head so that the red-brown curls danced around her face. ‘I…I don’t think so,’ she muttered, barely able to think straight in her confusion.
‘Hmm, a very professional answer, Nurse Grady.’ His mocking tone was the best antidote in the world and she tried harder to concentrate.
‘Then, no, I’m not allergic to adhesive dressings or anything else, apart from strawberries,’ she declared firmly.
‘Strawberries, eh? I shall have to bear that in mind.’ He took a square of adhesive dressing out of the box and peeled off the backing then pressed it over the wound.
Laura bit her lip, refusing to let the question slip out. Asking why Mark should need to remember her allergy was a definite step in the wrong direction! After all, what difference could it make to him what she could and couldn’t eat?
She curbed that thought, climbing down from the stool as fast as she could after he’d finished. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly, fixing a polite smile to her lips.
‘My pleasure…if that’s really the right way to phrase it in the circumstances.’
His rueful expression made her laugh, and suddenly it was easier to shuffle her thoughts into some sort of logical sequence again. Maybe she was reading too much into the way she’d responded to his nearness just now. It was a well-known fact that certain stimuli produced predictable physical responses. It had been less a question of her reacting to Mark as a person than the natural response of her body.
It was an explanation that made far more sense than any other so that she was able to relax as Mark made coffee and suggested they drink it in the sitting-room. Laura led the way, opting for one of the floor cushions in front of the fireplace rather than the sofa. Mark had lit the fire while she’d been tucking Robbie up in bed, and it gave off a welcoming heat. Although the flat had central heating, the room was so lofty that the air still felt chilly and she held her hands out appreciatively to the blaze.
‘Here you go.’ Mark put one of the cups on the floor beside her then curled his long legs beneath him, Indian fashion, as he sank onto a cushion. He took a tentative sip of his coffee then set the cup aside when he found it was too hot to drink. The glow from the fire lit his face as he bent forward, lending the very masculine lines an unaccustomed softness.
Laura looked away, uncomfortably aware that her heart was beating faster than normal. Suddenly, the explanation for her odd behaviour seemed less than watertight. It was a relief when Mark spoke in a purely practical tone and she could focus on something other than her own whirling thoughts.
‘Right, I suppose we’d better get organised now that we’re fed and watered. You’re due in work at nine, I know, but what time do you need to drop Robbie off at school?’
‘Eight-thirty. But I have to pick up Ben on the way. I offered to take both boys to school, seeing as Claire is collecting them. Much to Robbie’s delight.’
She smiled, finding it easier once she was concentrating on her son. ‘Robbie adores Ben—it’s a real case of hero-worship. Mind you, he’s crazy about Claire and Sean and just about everyone else he regards as a friend!’
‘He’s a very outgoing child from what I’ve seen, which is a real bonus.’ Mark smiled back. ‘It’s thanks to you that he has such confidence, Laura. You’re doing a great job with him.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, deeply touched. She shrugged, not wanting him to guess how much it had meant to hear him say that. ‘But I can’t take all the credit. Robbie is naturally gregarious, it’s part of his nature.’
‘So many Down’s children are like that, you find. They have this wonderfully accepting attitude towards other people and seem