Her Favorite Temptation (7 page)

Good advice. Advice she needed to remember as she waded through the minefield that was her family.

The door to the bathroom opened and she turned, expecting to see Leah or her mother. She blinked in surprise when her father entered, looking both uncomfortable and determined.

“Before you tell me I shouldn’t be in here, it’s okay, I’m a doctor. Plus I spent twenty-odd years as the only man in a household full of women. I doubt there are many feminine mysteries I haven’t been privy to over the years.”

“I’m okay, Dad. Give me a few minutes to fix my face and I’ll be out.”

He came to her side and slid an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve got to understand, this is a blow for your mother. She’s never really gotten over the fact that she wasn’t able to complete her own specialist training.”

Leah was familiar with the story of her mother’s thwarted ambition, although it was something she’d only learned relatively recently. Her mother had had a hysterectomy last year, and in the hazy hours after her surgery had been weepy and a bit confessional, holding Leah’s hands and spilling out her most closely held secret: that she’d longed to do what Leah was doing, but had gotten pregnant with Audrey during her training and been shunted off the path she’d chosen. Learning that had made sense of so many things Leah had never fully understood over the years. It was a common enough story—a woman’s career aspirations derailed by biology, something that happened every day all around the world—but it didn’t give her mother license to run roughshod over her own daughters.

She leveled a look at her father. “I understand, believe it or not. But I am not her do-over.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “Just be patient with her, Leah. This whole thing has been a bit of a shock to her. She was certain your future had been decided a long time ago.”

Exactly—when Leah was a little girl, and by her mother.

Leah was tempted to say as much, but there was something else she wanted to say more. Something that was long overdue.

“Dad, I want to ask you something. Earlier, when you made that comment about me never having to worry about losing my job because I’m too valuable, did you think about how Audrey might take it?”

He raised his eyebrows. “No. Clearly I was talking about you, Leah. It had nothing to do with your sister.”

Except that they’d been talking about Audrey’s career, Audrey’s work situation.

“It came across that way, Dad. It came across as though you were saying that Audrey might lose her job, but I never would, because I’m better than her.”

He shook his head slightly. “I didn’t say you were better, sweetheart. I was simply making a point that your skills will always be in high demand. That doesn’t mean that Audrey’s skills aren’t as valuable and worthy.”

He was genuinely confused, unable—or unwilling—to see what she was saying. She opened her mouth to try again—determined to correct this one, small wrong—when the door swung inward and a well-coiffed woman in her forties entered. She drew up short when she saw Leah’s father, and he took a hasty step toward the exit.

“Just on my way out. Apologies for the intrusion,” he said.

So much for all his talk about no
feminine mystery I haven’t been privy to.
And so much for her attempt to open his eyes. He slipped out, leaving Leah to deal with the woman’s curious stare.

CHAPTER FIVE

H
ER
MOTHER
WAS
all smiles and gentle tones when Leah returned to the table, but there was a steely light in her eyes when she assured Leah they could discuss the issue later.

Over Leah’s dead body. She was done with debating a choice that had already been made. And she would be making that crystal clear to her mother the next time they weren’t surrounded by several dozen people enjoying an expensive meal.

Somehow they limped through the rest of the meal, including the mandatory birthday cake presentation, complete with off-key singing. The only genuine highlight was her sister’s gift—a beautiful wristwatch with a slim leather band and classic face. It was exactly what Leah would have chosen for herself and she slung an arm around Audrey’s neck and hugged her close.

“It’s perfect. I adore it.”

“I’m glad. It was tough deciding, but I know you’re a Katherine Hepburn kind of girl, so I picked something I thought she’d wear,” Audrey explained.

“And here’s a little something from us,” her father said, sliding an elegantly printed envelope across the table.

She was anticipating travel vouchers, since that was what they’d given Audrey for her thirtieth four years ago. But when she opened the envelope she discovered a document explaining that a number of blue-chip shares had been bought in her name, to the value of ten thousand dollars.

For a moment everything in the room stood still as she stared at the figure. Then she lifted her gaze to find her mother watching her, an expectant, hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Bloody hell.

Quickly she folded the document, determined that Audrey would never learn from her that their parents had once again favored Leah at her expense.

“Thank you. A really lovely, generous thought,” she said as sincerely as possible, achingly aware of Audrey at her side.

Didn’t their parents understand how wretched it would be for her sister if she learned what was in that envelope? How overlooked and slighted she would feel if she learned that while she’d received the equivalent of a budget interstate flight and a couple of nights’ hotel accommodation, Leah had been gifted with a sizable chunk of cash? Apparently not, and it made Leah angry and sad in equal measure.

“Never too soon to start thinking of the future,” her father said. “This will get you started nicely.”

Somehow Leah managed to divert the conversation, although she couldn’t be sure that Audrey hadn’t twigged that something was going on.

Leah was wrung out by the time her father had settled the bill, her stomach protesting the few mouthfuls of food she’d forced herself to eat. Audrey said her goodbyes the moment they descended to ground level, walking away without a backward glance. Leah watched her go, feeling the push of tears again.

Her family was seriously screwed up. And she was responsible for some of it.

She sat silently in her parents’ Mercedes during the drive home, biting back the need to discuss the shares they’d given her. Now was not the time to discuss her unwillingness to participate in the marginalization of her sister. The
further
marginalization of her sister. She wanted to think about how best to tackle the issue. She wanted to approach the problem meticulously and carefully, do her very best to shift things. If that was even possible. There were four people in this family, and at the end of the day, they all had to want to change for change to occur.

“Thanks for a lovely afternoon,” she said as her father stopped in front of her building. “The food was fantastic.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” her father said. “Definitely lived up to its reputation. We’ll have to come up with another excuse to go there again.”

Leah agreed, then leaned forward to kiss them both goodbye before slipping from the car.

She waited until they’d disappeared into traffic before letting the smile drop from her face. Walking slowly, she made her way to her apartment.

There was no comfort to be found there, though, something she’d started to understand over the past week. This apartment had never really been a home to her, a sanctuary, because she was hardly ever here. She was always working. Or studying. She came home to eat and sleep, and her apartment reflected that. The couch was comfortable but bland, the curtains equally so. There was no art on the walls, no small personal touches. She’d bought this apartment two years ago, and it might as well be a corporate rental for all the personality it had.

She found herself on the balcony, gripping the railing and staring at the clear blue sky. She felt so overwhelmed at the moment, her whole world in turmoil. When she’d made the momentous decision to leave the surgical program, she’d thought she was correcting a misstep she’d taken several years ago. She hadn’t anticipated that that one decision would ripple out to upset every other aspect of her life. Yet it had. It had forced her to take a good, hard look at her family, and it had forced her to take a good, hard look at herself. The sad thing was, she didn’t like what she saw on either count.

A terrible hollowness opened inside her as she stared into the ether. Suddenly she felt very small, very confused and very, very alone.

Another choice she’d made somewhere along the way. Relationships had been too hard to maintain when she was busy being Superdoctor. Which was why she couldn’t think of a single person she could call right now and know that they would drop everything to be with her because she was having a crappy day. She hadn’t cultivated those kinds of friendships, hadn’t been that kind of friend.

The hollowness in her chest was starting to ache, and she knew without a doubt that if she continued to stand here she would cry.

The prospect of spending the rest of her birthday sobbing alone in her apartment was too pathetic to even contemplate. She stepped inside and flung off her clothes. She pulled on her running gear with urgent hands, winding her hair into a tightly coiled bun before slipping her spare house key into her sports bra.

She started to run the moment she hit the street, not bothering with a warm-up. She needed to push herself. She needed to hurt a little.

She wove through the streets until she arrived at Albert Park Lake, and then she really lengthened her stride. She ran as hard and as long as she could, until her legs and lungs burned, until it hurt to breathe. Then she pushed herself harder still, until everything hurt. Then, and only then, did she allow herself to stop, doubling over, bracing her hands on her knees as she sucked in air, her body vibrating with the violent beat of her heart.

She stared at the ground, conscious that the tears she’d left her apartment to avoid were still there, hovering beneath the surface. Waiting.

She didn’t want to cry about what her parents had done today. She wanted to be angry. Angry for herself, but mostly for Audrey. She wanted to use that anger to change things—or, at the very minimum, change herself.

She started to walk to the apartment, breaking into a slow jog when she felt up to it. Her legs were shaky by the time she pushed through the double glass doors into the foyer of her building. She stared at the floor indicator in the elevator as it took her to her floor, glad she had the small space to herself. She couldn’t stomach putting on a public face right now. She was all out of pretense.

She felt an odd sense of dread when she arrived at her door. The evening loomed ahead of her, and she didn’t want to spend it on her couch feeling sad and sorry for herself.

Then go to a movie.
Take yourself out for dinner.
Do something other than moan to yourself
,
you poor
,
tender
,
put-upon victim.

Ah, there she was, her newly discovered Inner Bitch. Ready with helpful commentary, as usual. Lips pursed, Leah reached into her bra for the key, frowning when she encountered nothing but sweaty flesh.

What the...?

She yanked the neckline of her top away from her body, rummaging in earnest. Maybe the key had slipped right into the cup...? A minute of serious self-groping later, she still had no key.

It must have fallen out sometime during her run.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

She tried the door handle, in case she’d forgotten to lock it through some fluke of circumstance. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t shift beneath her hand.

Fantastic. She was officially screwed. She had no idea what time it was, but the odds were good it was closer to five than three. She had no phone, no money, and it was a Saturday, which meant that any solution she came up with—such as an after-hours locksmith—would cost an arm and a leg.

It was the last straw, the crappy end to a monumentally crappy day. Balling both hands into fists, she vented her frustration and misery on her door, pounding it repeatedly as she swore under her breath. She finished off with a last despairing kick, leaving a scuff mark on the white paint and jarring her leg all the way to her hip.

“Dare I ask what the door did that was so bad?” a voice said from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Will standing there wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and a faded T-shirt. Despite his light words, a small wrinkle of concern sat between his eyebrows, and she wondered how much he’d seen. The punching, the kicking and the swearing? Or only the tail end of her tantrum?

“I lost my key,” she said. “I can’t get into my own place.”

Then, to her everlasting mortification, she burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands, very aware that she had never been a pretty crier, humiliated to be losing it in front of him. The next thing she knew, warm, strong arms were closing around her, pulling her against a firm, broad chest.

“If you get my flu, you’re going to kill me, but I figure it’s worth the risk,” Will said.

She knew she should push him away, but it had been so long—too long—since someone had held her, and it felt so good that she simply let her head drop onto his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, giving in to the need to be comforted. He didn’t say a word, his hands widespread on her back, his heart beating steadily against her own.

Slowly her crying jag dissipated, wrenching sobs quieting to simple tears and finally to sniffles. She became aware that she was clutching Will so fervently that her hands were fisted in his T-shirt, her cheek smooshed against his chest, her whole body plastered to his. All of a sudden she was assailed with sensation—the smell of him, the warm, firm strength of him, the excited, expectant racing of her own heart. She tensed, releasing her death grip and trying to push away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“It’s okay, Leah.” His hand moved then, gliding up her back to cup the nape of her neck.

His touch was so gentle, so undemanding, his hand so warm and large, she couldn’t help but relax into his embrace, letting her cheek once again settle on his chest. It was so nice to be touched, to be held as though she mattered to someone, to stand in the shelter of his body and allow herself to borrow his strength for a few precious minutes.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess the family lunch wasn’t exactly great, huh?” he said after a while.

“Yes.”

“Scary mum strikes again?”

“Yes. And the rest. The whole thing is so messed up, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Lucky I have a family-size block of chocolate in my apartment, then.”

She smiled, despite everything. “You have sisters, don’t you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Just a hunch.”

This time he let her go when she pushed away from him.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

She couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. Usually she saved her bouts of childish sobbing for the privacy of her bedroom. Soaking the shoulder of the hot guy next door was a new one for her, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

“So, I don’t suppose you left a spare key with a neighbor?” Will asked.

“Nope.” She didn’t even know who her neighbors were. Apart from Will, of course. She risked a glance at him. He was watching her warmly, sympathetically. The doctor in her couldn’t help noticing that his color was better, his gaze sharper.

“You look better,” she said.

“I feel better. I’m thinking it was the official medical escort I enjoyed this morning.”

It was such a ridiculous notion she could only shake her head.

“Come on, let’s find ourselves a locksmith,” he said.

She followed him into his place, only now registering how damp her running clothes were. She didn’t even want to think about how she must look, let alone smell. Just as she was not a pretty crier, she had a tendency to turn beet-red when exercising. Combined with her no-doubt puffy eyes, she must be quite the siren right now.

“I don’t suppose you know of a locksmith around here?” Will asked as he sat in front of the laptop resting on the coffee table.

“I’ve never had to use one before,” she said distractedly.

Because she’d just remembered her balcony.

She crossed the room and slid open the door to Will’s balcony, stepping out onto the small space to eye the gap between the railings. One or two feet. No big deal, even if they were on the twelfth floor.

“Hey, good idea,” Will said from behind her. “Any chance your balcony door is unlocked?”

“I was out there earlier this afternoon. I can’t remember if I locked it or not, but it’s worth a try.”

She braced her hands on the railing and started to hitch her leg up.

“Whoa! That’s not going to happen.”

Hands grabbed her hips, pulling her backward.

“It’s only a couple of feet. A five-year-old could do it.”

“And yet they have these railings for a reason. I’ll do it,” Will said very firmly, stepping in front of her and eyeing the railing.

“You’ve been sick. You could barely walk to the pharmacy this morning. I’m hardly going to let you—
Will!
”

She lunged forward, but she was too late. He’d placed both hands on the railing, then leaped up, vaulting onto her balcony in one smooth, powerful move.