Gentleman Sinner(11)

My shoulders drop. She’s obsessed with cock, probably because of all the vaginas that are thrust in her face daily. I head to the bathroom to get showered and ready for my shift, and, of course, Jess is in hot pursuit, hungry for more information. ‘What did you do at his house?’ she asks, sitting on the loo as I turn on the shower.

‘Took care of the girl who was attacked. Twenty-one and a prostitute. Her father died. I think Theo was close to him.’ While feeding Jess’s curiosity, I’m also feeding my own. And I shouldn’t. Curiosity is a dangerous thing, especially when Theo Kane is the subject. I should never have mentioned it at all. Forget about it. That’s what I should do.

‘Theo? His name’s Theo?’

‘Theo Kane.’ I strip down and jump in the shower, not in the least bit bothered that Jess is sitting on the toilet watching me, now seemingly wide awake. I can see her mind racing. I inwardly laugh. And she hasn’t even met him. Didn’t see his mansion. Or have a gun offered to her. She has no idea.

‘Were there—’

‘No.’ I cut her right off.

‘You don’t even know what I was going to say,’ she protests.

I wipe away the condensation and give her a look through the glass. I know damn well what she was going to ask, and the answer will always be no. There were no sparks. There were no looks. There were no electric shocks each and every time he touched me. There was no loss of breath or lustful thoughts. I should never go there. ‘Nothing,’ I reiterate finally.

‘Well, that’s disappointing.’ She grumbles, losing complete interest in the conversation, which is exactly why I made the wise decision not to feed her intrigue any more. Now I just need to work on starving my own.

*

‘Who keeps taking my thermometer?’ I mutter under my breath, rootling through the basket on the trolley. Damn it, how many times do people need to be told?

‘Here.’ Susan passes me a spare with a knowing look, tapping her watch, a reminder that my shift is almost done, not that I stand much chance of getting out of here for at least another hour. I have handover to do, as well as observations on all the patients. Just one more shift tomorrow, I tell myself, seeing the biggest mojito awaiting my arrival in Vegas.

I return my attention to my patient. ‘Let’s see how hot you are today, Mable,’ I say cheekily, spiking a wicked cackle from the dear old lady.

‘Flaming,’ she says on a laugh. ‘Hey, when are you going to Dallas?’

‘I’m going to Vegas, and I leave on Saturday.’

‘Oohhh, I bet you’ll be getting yourself some American scrumpet.’

I laugh as I note her temperature and check her charts. ‘How’s your pain, Mable? On a scale of one to ten.’

‘Five,’ she answers quickly, making me smile. Always a five. The poor woman took a tumble and broke her hip, and not once has she complained about it. She’s as sharp as a pin at the ripe old age of ninety-two. ‘American men,’ she muses, looking off into the distance, a fond smile on her face. ‘I remember the excitement when a ship full of American sailors docked during the war. Me and the girls put extra lipstick on that night before we danced down to the pub.’

‘You floozy,’ I tease, wagging a finger at her. ‘And was the extra lippy worth it?’ I dip to release her full catheter bag.

She chucks me a devilish smirk. ‘I was quite a catch, you know. When I was a girl and my bosoms weren’t tickling my knees.’ She gives the catheter bag in my hand a quick look of disdain, and I feel immediately guilty for reminding her that she’s no longer a young woman. Now she’s an old lady with memories of a time gone by. ‘But then I met my Ronald. Ooh, that man did things to me that no other man ever had.’

‘Like what?’ I ask, fascinated by the twinkle in her eye and the sudden rouge of her cheeks.

‘Like give me butterflies in my tummy and too many heart-stopping moments for me to remember.’ She sighs, sinking into her pillow. ‘He looked at me like a man should look at a woman.’

‘How’s that?’ I smile as I straighten her sheets with my spare hand.

‘Like he was struggling to keep his hands off me. Like he wanted to ravish me from top to toe.’ She pats my hand with a chuckle. ‘One day, my love. You’ll meet him one day.’

I frown. ‘Who, Ronald?’

She laughs loudly, wincing a teeny bit from her sudden movement, though she doesn’t yelp or curse. Just settles back down without a fuss. ‘No, silly girl. Ronald went to play in God’s green garden seven years ago. I mean your life changer.’

‘My life changer?’

‘The man who will flip your world up on its head and you won’t care one iota.’ She laughs. ‘Just you wait. A pretty thing like you won’t be on the shelf for long.’

‘Who said I’m on the shelf?’ I ask, maybe a little delayed, but still. I’ve had interest, just no time or desire. And no world flipping, as she calls it.

‘Oh, my love.’ She looks embarrassed for a moment. ‘Forgive me, but if there’s a long-term man in your life, then I’m afraid you might be wasting your time on him. There’s no twinkle in your eye.’ She pats my cheek.

‘There is no long-term man,’ I admit. ‘No man, in fact.’