‘You’ve done it now. We’ll be here all evening while he switches things on and off.’
Matt didn’t seem to mind that. He didn’t mind finger-marks on the high-tech touchscreen controls either. In the end, Hannah called a halt to the endless questions, and Sam was strapped firmly into his car seat for the drive home.
The house was still dark, and Hannah let Sam run past her into the sitting room. ‘Would you like to come in for some coffee?’ The words flew recklessly from her lips, and when he shook his head it was almost a relief.
‘Thanks, but you probably need to get Sam to bed now.’
‘Yes, any minute now he’s going to realise that he’s tired and keel over.’
Matt nodded. ‘I’d best get going. I’ll see you next week.’
She couldn’t turn away from him. She needed him to touch her, just once, before she let him go. Hannah reprimanded herself. Had she forgotten already what had happened the last time she’d gazed at Matt, her attention only on him and not on what Sam had been doing?
A thump from the sitting room settled the question.
‘I’d better go and see what he’s up to. Goodnight, Matt. And thank you.’
‘Thank you. I really enjoyed tonight.’ For one moment, the heat of his gaze seemed like the touch of a lover. Then he turned quickly, walking to his car.
CHAPTER NINE
MATT HAD BEEN thinking about the swan all week. He’d rationalised it. The beautiful creature, gliding over the water with barely a ripple in its wake, had turned so quickly into a lumbering, terrifying threat. It was all about his internal child, and how his father’s moods had turned on a whisper into something dark and dangerous.
But he still couldn’t get the picture of Sam, standing paralysed by fear, out of his head. The boy had recovered quickly, but it had shaken Matt to the core.
He wanted so much to love Hannah. He was rapidly beginning to care for Sam as well, and Matt wanted to protect the boy. But he’d been taught a valuable lesson, which he should heed. Love had its responsibilities, and it would be better never to love than to fail the people he cared about.
But today he didn’t need to fall in love with her. He just needed to win. They needed to tap into the connection they’d made and win.
His senses had become attuned to the sight of the red T-shirt. It was a precursor of all the other delights, her scent and her smile, and when he caught sight of it he couldn’t help a thrill of anticipation.
‘Hey, Flash...’ He walked up behind her, murmuring the words, as she stood alone looking at the large marquee that had been erected in the grounds of the fourth hospital. She whirled around, reddening a little, as if he’d caught her thinking something she shouldn’t.
‘Hey. Are you ready, Robin?’
‘One hundred percent.’ More, if that were possible. If wanting to do anything for your partner counted, then they’d win by a mile.
‘Sorry. I’ve only got ninety-nine...’
He grinned. ‘That’ll do.’
‘I hope so.’ She turned the corners of her mouth down. ‘I’m still having a little trouble with my knee. Not so you’d notice, but I get a few twinges when I run.’
That was new. Hannah wasn’t just admitting a weakness, she was asking for his help and encouragement. It was a surprising start to the day.
If he needed to, he’d pick her up and carry her across whatever finish line lay ahead of them. The thought was unexpectedly sweet. But if wanting your teammate so badly that he thought it would crush him at times was an unorthodox incentive, he’d take it. Whatever it took to win.
‘I can run for both of us. Anyway, they’ll have to ring the changes at some point and concentrate on our medical skills, so hopefully there won’t be too much running.’
‘Yeah. We’ll be okay.’ She gave him a smile that reverberated through his whole being.
For the first time, all of the contestants were gathered together to hear their challenge for the day. A succession of medical problems that had been devised to test their skills under pressure. The marquee was divided up into four consulting areas, each with a camera and a judge in attendance.
‘Thank goodness.’ Hannah walked towards the red team’s compartment, and Matt saw a little stiffness in the way that she moved. Ninety-nine percent had been an exaggeration—he calculated that she was only eighty percent fit.
They had ten minutes to arrange their workspace. A temporary floor was laid, and the cubicle was furnished with an examination couch and a desk, two chairs on either side of it.
‘What do you say we get rid of this?’ Matt gestured towards the desk.