Jack glared at her. ‘You can joke about it, but do you really think a man wants to sit around, drinking your coffee?’
‘You’re sitting around, drinking my coffee,’ Bryony pointed out logically, and his mouth hardened.
‘That’s different. I’m not trying to get you into my bed.’
More’s the pity, Bryony thought wistfully, putting the coffee down on the side. If Jack ever tried to get her into his bed she’d be there like a flash.
‘Jack, I’m sure David didn’t have anything immoral on his mind.’
‘Which just shows how little you know about men,’ Jack said tightly. ‘Do you know the average man thinks about sex every six seconds?’
‘So presumably that’s why they say men are like photocopiers,’ Bryony said dryly. ‘Good for reproduction but not much else.’
For once Jack didn’t laugh and she sighed inwardly. There was obviously something about the idea of her dating that short-circuited his sense of humour.
Suddenly she wanted the old Jack back. The Jack that called her Blondie and teased her unmercifully. The Jack with the wicked smile and the sexiest wink known to woman.
‘Jack.’ Her tone was patient. ‘I invited David in for coffee because I was being polite. I had no intention of having sex with him.’
‘And what if he’d decided to have sex with you?’
She looked at him in exasperation. ‘Well, despite the colour of my hair I do have a brain and a mouth,’ she said tartly. ‘I can think no and say no. At the same time. Amazing really. If I concentrate really hard I can add two and two. Jack, what is the matter with you?’
‘I just think you’re being naïve.’
‘Inviting a guy in for coffee?’ Bryony gritted her teeth and shook her head. ‘You’ve gone crazy, do you know that?’
There was a long silence and streaks of colour touched his hard cheekbones. ‘Maybe I have,’ he said shortly, putting his half-full mug on the table and rising to his feet in a fluid movement. ‘I’d better get home.’
‘Fine. Thank you for babysitting.’
‘You’re welcome.’
As a farewell it had none of its usual warmth and Bryony turned away and poured the rest of her coffee down the sink, boiling with frustration and feeling confused and upset.
She heard Jack stride to her front door, heard him pick up his jacket and car keys and then the front door slammed behind him.
Bryony winced and let out a long breath.
Just what was going on with Jack?
Bryony was nervous about working with Jack the next day but he seemed back to his usual self, relaxed and good-humoured as they sat in the staffroom and discussed the shifts for Bonfire Night.
‘It’s my turn.’ Sean Nicholson, one of the other consultants, looked at Jack with a resigned expression on his face. ‘You deserve a year off from Bonfire Night. You’ve had a bad few years.’
Jack rolled his eyes. ‘I won’t know what to do with myself,’ he drawled, and Bryony gave him a sympathetic smile.
‘You hate this time of year, don’t you?’
‘I’ve just seen too many kids with burns after handling fireworks,’ he said grimly, scribbling something on his pad. ‘OK, so Blondie and I are officially off that night, but if you need us you can call us.’ He looked at Bryony. ‘Would you be able to come in that night if we needed you?’
Bryony nodded. ‘After eight. I’m taking Lizzie to her bonfire party.’
Jack stared at her, his body suddenly unnaturally still. ‘What bonfire party?’
‘Her friend is having a few sparklers in the garden. Nothing dramatic,’ Bryony assured him, but he shook his head.
‘No way.’ His jaw was tense. ‘She shouldn’t be going.’
Bryony sighed. ‘She’s seven, Jack. She wants to be with her friends.’
‘So? Invite them all out for a hamburger.’
‘It’s just a few fireworks and drinks for the parents. It will be over by eight.’
He let out a breath. ‘All right. But I’m coming with you.’
‘Jack—’
‘I’m off and I’m bored.’ His blue eyes glittered dangerously. ‘It’s that or she doesn’t go.’
‘You’re not her father, Jack!’ Suddenly remembering that Sean was still in the room, Bryony coloured with embarrassment and shot them an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, you guys.’
‘No problem,’ Sean said easily, ‘and I’m sure we won’t need you here so just go and have a good time.’
‘Great. That’s what we’ll do, then.’
Jack ran through the rest of the rota and Sean left the room.
Bryony looked at him. ‘So what are you planning to do? Bring the fire brigade?’
‘When you’ve spent as long working in A and E as I have, you won’t let your daughter go to domestic firework parties,’ he said tightly. ‘It’s fine. I’ll come, too. And you can tell Lizzie’s friend’s mother that I want a bucket of sand and another bucket of water handy.’
‘Why don’t we just have an ambulance on standby, just in case?’ Bryony suggested tartly. ‘Anne’s mother will think I’ve gone barmy.’
‘Better barmy than burned.’ Jack strode to the door. ‘What time does it start?’
‘We’re getting there at five-thirty for tea and then fireworks,’ Bryony said wearily, and Jack nodded.
‘Right. I’ll pick you both up at five-fifteen. And I want Lizzie in gloves. She’s not touching a sparkler with her bare hands.’
Bryony stood up and followed him out of the staffroom, wanting to argue but knowing that he was only being cautious.
He had dealt with a huge number of burns on Bonfire Night, all of which could have been avoided.
And he did adore Lizzie.
Deciding that she should be grateful that he was so protective of her daughter, she picked up a set of notes and called the next patient from the waiting room.
And secretly part of her was excited at spending an evening with Jack. Even if it was in the company of half a dozen parents and their offspring.
It would be lovely to have him there, even though nothing was going to happen.
Reminding herself that Jack was not the man she was dating, she sat down in her chair and waited for the patient to arrive.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NIGHT of the bonfire party was freezing cold and Bryony pulled on her jeans and thickest jumper and wore her long black coat.
Lizzie was wearing a bright pink hat, pink tights and a pink fleece, and Jack blinked when he arrived to pick them up.
‘How are my girls?’ He picked Lizzie up and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘You’re looking very pink, angel.’ He spoke in that lazy drawl that sent butterflies flitting through Bryony’s stomach. ‘Do you have any pink gloves to go with that outfit, sweetheart?’
‘Somewhere.’