Joss Wood - With Love From Cape Town

‘Of course I can’t force you to come,’ Robina said between stiff lips. ‘But you know the press will have a field day if you don’t. They’d like nothing better than to sense trouble between the author of How to keep your man happy—in bed and out of it and her husband.’ How bloody ironic it all was.

It seemed as if the irony wasn’t lost on Niall either. His lips twitched in a half-smile as he looked at Robina, his eyes glinting. To her mortification, she felt her face burn. Was he remembering how good it had been? Her book had been written from memory, it was true, but only because every moment of their love-making was burnt into her brain. She could remember every touch of his lips, the feel of his hands on her skin, the way they couldn’t get enough of each other, and the memories tortured her. Her heart thumped as he held her gaze and something flickered in his eyes. If only he would tell her he still loved her, then sweep her into his arms and take her to his bed, perhaps they could find a way back to each other again. She knew he still wanted her as much as she wanted him. But what good was sexual attraction, however intense, without love? She shook her head slightly.

Niall gave her one last lingering look before he turned and walked away.

‘Dr Zondi and Dr Ferguson, could you look this way, please?’

Cameras flashed in a maelstrom of light and noise. Robina supposed she should be used to it by now. But the speed with which her career had taken off and the media interest had taken her by surprise. She had gone from being a GP to a best-selling author and presenter of Life In Focus all within a few months, and her head still reeled. Never in a million years would she have imagined the life she found herself living. But for all its glamour and wealth and adulation, Robina knew she would have traded it all in a heartbeat for the life she had envisaged when she had fallen in love with Niall.

She sneaked a sideways glance at her husband. Although he hated these functions, no one except her would be able to tell. He cut a devastatingly handsome figure in his tux. Tall, dark-haired and incredibly goodlooking, the media loved him. As a couple they were portrayed as Mr and Mrs Perfect. If only people knew the truth, Robina thought bitterly. They were as far away from perfect as was possible.

Niall took her elbow and steered her through the photographers and into the hall. As Robina had expected, it was filled with a veritable who’s who from the TV world. Instantly they were surrounded, and Robina felt a pang as Niall moved away, leaving her to talk with the presenter of one of TV’s most popular chat shows.

‘Ah, Dr Zondi,’ the presenter, a grey-haired distinguished-looking man in his early fifties, was saying. ‘I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk. I would love it if you would do a slot on my show as one of the celebrities.’

Robina nodded distractedly, watching Niall from the corner of her eye as he was cornered by a journalist from one of the national newspapers. Niall had recently published a paper on a new treatment for infertility, which was causing quite a stir. She watched him bend his head to listen to what the journalist was saying, before he threw his head back and laughed. Whatever his feelings about events like this, he would play his part. Robina knew he would never do anything to embarrass her publicly. She felt the familiar stab of regret. Once she had made him laugh like that. Robina swallowed a sigh, before turning her attention back to the presenter, who was still speaking. She was on duty, and for the time being, at least, would forget about the mockery that was her private life.

‘You want me to talk about the documentary I’m doing?’ she asked.

The presenter frowned. ‘Documentary? No, not really. People are interested in Dr Zondi the woman. Especially your new book. They know about the doctor, now they want to know what makes the woman tick.’

Robina shook her head. ‘I don’t do chat shows,’ she said dismissively.

‘Of course you do.’ Richard Christchurch laughed. ‘You have your own show every week.’

‘That’s different,’ Robina insisted. ‘That’s not about me.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Richard raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s not a chat show,’ Robina persisted. ‘It’s a chance for patients to talk about their medical problems and get some answers. And for viewers to get information. They come on and talk about how illness affects their lives and what help they have found. It’s not entertainment!’

‘Isn’t everything on TV entertainment?’ Richard continued. ‘But if, as you say, your programme is more of a public service, then you appearing on my show can only help get information to the public.’

Robina still wasn’t sure. She didn’t altogether trust Richard Christchurch as he had a reputation for taking cheap swipes at his guests. On the other hand, he was right. If she appeared on his show, it would help raise public awareness about her own show. And that was good. Wasn’t it?’

‘I’ll need to speak to my agent,’ she hedged. ‘But I don’t know if I’ll have the time. I’m in the middle of this documentary, and my own programme returns in a couple of months. And somewhere in between I have to find time to promote my latest book—at least my agent tells me I have to.’

Richard smiled. ‘Of course. It was only a thought, but I’ll get my agent to speak to yours, shall I? In the meantime, perhaps you want to discuss it with your husband?’

Discuss it with Niall? Who was he kidding? Niall was the last person she’d be discussing it with. She glanced across the room to find her husband’s eyes on her. He was too far away for her to read his expression, but as their eyes held, she felt her heart thump against her ribs. There had been a time when their eyes would have met across the room and she would have known exactly what he was thinking. That he wanted to leave, so he could make love to her. At one time, they couldn’t get enough of each other. At one time no words had been necessary.

At dinner, she and Niall were placed at different sides of the table and she was thankful that they wouldn’t have to pretend to everyone to be wrapped up in each other. Throughout the seemingly endless meal she would look up from conversations she was having with the guests on either side to find Niall’s unfathomable eyes on her. Whenever he caught her eye he would smile dutifully and she would grin back as if her heart wasn’t breaking.

After the main course, the band struck up and Niall got to his feet, came over to her side, and held out a hand to her.

‘Shall we, darling?’ he drawled. As usual he was playing the attentive husband role and if he had a sardonic look in his cool blue eyes, only Robina saw it.

Conscious of several pairs of eyes on them, she let him whirl her around the dance floor. His hand was low on her back as he guided her and she could feel his fingers on her bare skin, burning into her. The movement of the dance brought her body tight against his and she let her body melt into him, taking the opportunity to let herself believe, even for a few minutes, that they were a normal couple, still in love.

Her head only reached as far as his shoulder, and she rested her head against the rough material of his suit, breathing in the scent of soap and the faint smell of his aftershave.

‘What did Richard Christchurch want?’ he murmured into her ear, his breath like a caress.

‘He wants me to appear on his show.’ She smiled up at him, conscious that people would be watching.

‘And will you?’ He frowned. ‘Be careful, Robina. He’s a snake.’

The concern in his voice was unexpected. ‘I can look after myself,’ she responded lightly.

Niall’s answer was to pull her closer and Robina let herself relax into his arms, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her, even if it was all for show. All too soon the music ended and they returned to their seats.