Karin Baine – Midwife Under The Mistletoe (страница 7)

‘I know what you’re thinking.’

Fraser nearly dropped Iona’s belongings at being caught having inappropriate thoughts about her.

‘What’s that?’ He aimed for a neutral ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ tone as he stacked his box on top of the ones she’d positioned on the floor. There was still a car full of bric-a-brac outside but he reckoned he could unload it into the hall in double-quick time if he incurred her wrath.

‘Why would I leave a pretty chocolate-box cottage for this only a few days before Christmas?’

Once it became clear his thoughts remained private, Fraser deemed it safe to engage in conversation again. ‘It’s none of my business.’

Since she’d pointed it out, the contrast between the homely bungalow he’d helped her empty to come to this shell of an apartment did raise questions.

‘I mean, Mrs Dunlop said I was welcome to stay as my rent is paid up until the New Year.’

‘But you’re excited about having your own place? I think you mentioned that.’ Fraser could tell how happy Iona was. Her smile was warm enough to heat the whole building—which was just as well because he doubted the central heating had been on since the last tenant had vacated the property.

Personally, Fraser couldn’t see the attraction but, given how Iona had no qualms about making her mark at the surgery, he was certain she’d quickly make it a home. As soon as she bought some furniture. Unless this was one of those futuristic, space-saving apartments where the fixtures and fittings popped up from the floor at the touch of a button, she really didn’t have any furniture of note.

Iona’s quirks were in danger of bringing Fraser out in hives, her inability to plan ahead making him itch. When he’d transferred his stuff from his bachelor pad to the family home he’d allocated a specific timescale for completion, with all his things boxed and labelled accordingly for the removal company. Iona had randomly chucked things into cardboard boxes and bin liners with no forethought given to how she expected to find anything again. Even if she hadn’t got caught up at work, there was no way she’d have managed to get things in order in the space of one afternoon.

‘I do have a bed, well, a mattress, and there’s a kettle here somewhere.’ She began rifling through everything, unwrapping the contents until the floorboards were littered with bits of newspaper and kitchen paraphernalia.

‘I’ll go and bring the rest in.’ Fraser couldn’t stand back and watch this level of chaos without wanting to fix it. Something he knew Iona wouldn’t appreciate. This wasn’t his mess or responsibility and he had to get used to the fact Iona had chosen to live this way.

By the time he’d lugged the rest of her trash chic luggage into the flat Iona had moved into the kitchen. It would be generous to call the space open-plan, it was more in keeping with a student bedsit or, in its current state, a squat.

He shuddered as he set the bags down in the one space he could find amongst the mess she’d already created.

‘If that’s everything, I’ll head home.’ Back to his pristine house, which didn’t look as though it had just been burgled.

‘Look what I found!’ Ignoring his plea to be released back into civilised society, Iona held up the elusive kettle and two mismatched mugs.

‘Great,’ Fraser muttered through clenched teeth, accepting his fate. It wouldn’t help relations between them if he declined her hospitality when she was trying to be friendly.

‘For a job well done.’ Iona clinked her mug to his once she’d completed her task, oblivious to his discomfort in the corduroy beanbag serving as his seat during their tea break. The chipped cartoon cat mug he was drinking from was a world away from his mother’s fine china he’d become accustomed to.

‘So, er, what are your plans for the place?’ The old outhouse, long forgotten somewhere on the family estate, was more inviting than these four bare walls, yet Iona was so pleased with it Fraser wondered what kind of place she was used to.

Iona shrugged and slurped her tea. ‘I’ll get some paint to freshen it up a bit for Christmas and I’ll pick up whatever bits and pieces I need along the way.’

Fraser snorted in disbelief at her laissez-faire attitude to being a homeowner. For someone so fastidious about her work and keeping track of her patients, Iona was very blasé about her own personal life.

‘We’re very different creatures, you and I.’ Fraser supposed she would be as ill at ease with his set-up—with the family heirlooms giving it that look-but-don’t-touch vibe that made people hover nervously—as he was here.

‘I thought we’d figured that out a long time ago.’ She was teasing, even though there’d been nothing funny about their previous arguments.

‘We’ve had our moments.’ This insight into Iona’s chaotic world, such a contrast to the one Fraser had created around himself, made sense of their feisty exchanges. They were completely different people and living up to that adage about opposites. Last night they’d finally recognised the attraction even if they hadn’t acted on it.

Somewhere across the room Iona cleared her throat and he knew her mind had ventured into the same dangerous territory as his.

Fraser drained the last of his tea. He’d become too comfortable in Iona’s company, if not her new dwelling. ‘Time to go.’

‘Thanks again for all your help.’

He struggled to clamber out of the shape-shifting cushion trying to swallow him whole, which didn’t help the growing sense of panic clawing at his chest. He had to get away from here, be somewhere safe and orderly where he wouldn’t be ambushed by the furnishings or unexpected emotions.

‘Perhaps I’ll start my purchases with a chair or two.’ Iona came to his aid, holding out her hand to hoist him out of the man trap.

‘Not on my account,’ Fraser insisted. He had no intention of coming back here and certainly not to relive those distracting feelings he kept experiencing around her. If only he’d stuck to his schedule, all of this could have been avoided. This kind of havoc was exactly what happened when he didn’t abide by his own rules.

‘You never know who’s going to drop in and, as I’ve just witnessed, not everyone’s used to slumming it on beanbags.’ Unlike his, Iona’s place was the sort people would be dropping into whenever the notion took them. She wasn’t the type to be governed by social etiquette outside work, which made her home so much more appealing than the formal invitation one would require to gain admittance to his. Fraser couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had a house guest but that isolation was part of the charm as far as he was concerned.

Fraser negotiated his way through the detritus on the floor, waved goodbye at the door, but for the entire journey home he couldn’t help worrying on Iona’s behalf about her lack of preparation for the move. Neither could he put out the thought of the contents of his own apartment sitting in storage now he had no use for them. Iona was so pleased with so little but she really deserved better, and with a small effort on his part he could provide it for her and have her think of him a tad more fondly. He didn’t know why her acceptance had suddenly become important to him but it might have had something to do with her smiling at him instead of the usual scowl he elicited.

It warmed him on the inside, reaching parts of him he’d thought frozen in time along with the contents of his family home.

Even though he was worn out after his impulsive house removal, he knew he’d be returning to that compact residence before the night was over. Whatever spell had been cast on him the minute he’d taken Iona in his arms Fraser couldn’t seem to stay away from her and that definitely didn’t fit in with his plans for a carefully organised life.

* * *

Iona sank back into her bubble bath and closed her eyes. This was just what she needed after such a fraught day. Okay, so she’d had to wait for a while for the hot water to come through but like everything else wrong in the flat she was happy to put up with it when she was now the proud owner of all she surveyed.

A secret smile played across her lips as she thought of Fraser’s reaction on seeing the place. The outright horror on his face had been comical and she’d admit to intentionally pushing his buttons by leaving everything lying around to see if he’d try to tidy her up outside work. Iona knew he preferred everything spick and span as he was forever rearranging things in the waiting room, but since he’d insisted on stepping into her personal life, this was her way of marking her territory, creating a boundary. There was a chance she’d also been trying to rile him so he would overstep the mark and criticise her so she could stop thinking of him as anything other than her tyrannical boss.

To his credit, he hadn’t risen to the bait, proving there was some restraint and positive qualities behind his fussy, bossy exterior. He’d been generous with his time and support for her tonight and, coupled with yesterday’s revelation that her urges towards him weren’t only of a violent nature, she was losing track of the reasons to give him a wide berth. At least he’d made it clear he wasn’t in a hurry to come back any time soon so she wouldn’t have to worry too much over the consequences of inviting another man into her life.