Fiona Lowe - Secrets In Sydney - Sydney Harbour Hospital - Tom's Redemption

That and the fact that she generally didn’t date.

Vacillating, she bit her lip. ‘That’s very kind of you but—’

‘But what?’ The thin veneer of politeness that covered all that raw energy and ‘take no prisoners’ attitude cracked yet again.

She almost snapped at him and said, ‘Because of that’, but as she opened her mouth she saw a different tension in his jaw. He’s expecting you to say no . The thought made her stomach squirm. Did he really think she’d reject his invitation because he was blind?

Rude, yes, blind, no .

She thought of all the people at the lecture who’d known him when he’d been head of neurosurgery and who’d prevaricated and then chosen not to speak to him because they didn’t know what to say to the man who’d once held the pinnacle of all surgery positions. She wouldn’t do that to him even if the thought of dinner came more under the banner of duty than pleasure.

Decision made, she pulled her shoulders back. ‘I was going to say I’m not really dressed for dinner.’

‘Dressed or naked makes no difference to me, but I assume you have clothes on.’

Her breasts tingled at the lazy way his mouth roved over the word ‘naked’ and she was thankful he couldn’t see her pebbled nipples pushing against her T-shirt. As she tried to get her wayward body back under control she managed to splutter out an inane ‘Of course I’ve got clothes on.’

His brows rose and he extended his arm. ‘Then you’re dressed for dinner. Hurry up before I change my mind.’

She rolled her eyes but slid her arm under his. His fingers immediately curved around her elbow, his warmth seeping through her long-sleeved T-shirt. ‘I’m completely bowled over by your charm.’

‘Of course you are.’

He smiled at her and her knees sagged. Dimples carved through evening stubble, changing everything about him. The hard planes of his face yielded to the softer lines of humour, light replaced dark and bitter gave way to sweet. Everything inside her melted. What have I just gone and done?

The sarcastic, bitter man was easy to resist. This more human version of Tom Jordan—not so much.

What the hell possessed you?

Now that Tom was seated opposite Hayley at Warung Bali, a casual restaurant a short walk from the hospital, the reality of inviting her to dinner hit him hard. He’d shocked himself with the unanticipated invitation, which had come out of nowhere. One minute he’d been livid with the injustice of everything that had happened to him and not being able to operate, and the next he’d found himself smiling and the anger had faded slightly.

Still, dinner?

Yes, that had probably been overkill, but after the lecture, part of him had wanted to hold on to something that resembled normality. Before blindness had stolen more than his sight, he’d often dated and more than once he’d taken a nurse or a resident for an impromptu drink at Pete’s. He’d avoided Pete’s tonight because revisiting the social hub of The Harbour on ‘half-price Wednesdays’ would have been more than he could bear.

The reaction of the medical students to his lecture at lunchtime had been in stark contrast to that of his colleagues this evening. It had taken him close to an hour to deal with the number of students who’d wanted to speak to him at the end of the lecture. Only a few of his previous colleagues had made themselves known to him and he understood why. If his career had been chopped off at the knees from one act of fate, then so could theirs be, and it terrified them. So they’d avoided him.

Now he was avoiding them.

He’d brought Hayley to this restaurant because he often ate here and it was a short walk from his apartment. Prior to tonight, he’d only ever eaten here alone so he hadn’t anticipated that Wayan, the owner, would give Hayley such a rapturous welcome and offer champagne.

Tom had quickly gone into damage control. This wasn’t a date. It was just a meal with a fellow doctor and an attempt at reality—nothing more, nothing less. In the past, he’d rarely taken anyone out more than once so the chances of this ever being repeated were exceedingly slim.

‘Hayley is a colleague at the hospital, Wayan.’

‘Hello, Wayan.’ Her smoky voice had been infused with warmth. ‘As much as the idea of champagne is tempting, I’m on call and iced water would be wonderful.’

They’d discussed the menu, ordered their food, which had arrived promptly, and the pungent bouquet of lemon grass, coriander, peanut satay and chilli hadn’t disappointed. The flavours on his tongue matching the promise of the tantalising aroma. Wayan had placed the food on the table and as Tom had instructed him on his very first visit said, ‘On your plate, satay’s at twelve o’clock, rice at three and vegetables at nine.’

Both he and Hayley had eaten in relative silence with only an occasional comment about the food. When he’d finally balled his serviette and dropped it on his plate he heard the clink of ice against glass, but it wasn’t the movement caused by someone taking a sip. It was more continuous and he knew Hayley was stirring with her straw and staring down at her drink, probably wondering why she’d come.

He understood totally.

He swallowed, knowing he needed to break the silence. He’d never seen the point of chitchat with no purpose and he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about the weather or the lecture he’d just survived. He thought about the first time he’d met her. ‘How long have you been scared of the dark?’

She coughed as if she was choking and he realised he’d missed the moment she’d taken a sip.

‘How long have you been blind?’

Again he found himself smiling. Three times in one day had to be a record. ‘I take it that your fear of the dark is off the conversation list.’

‘Is your blindness?’

He thought about it. ‘Yes and no.’

Her blurry outline leaned forward. ‘Okay, I’ll cut you a deal. If either of us asks a question that goes beyond what we’re comfortable answering, we just say, “Enough.”’

He’d never met anyone quite like her. Women usually wanted to know every little detail and got offended if he didn’t tell all. This suggestion of hers, however, was perfect—conversation with a get-out-now option. ‘You’re on.’

‘Good.’ The table rocked slightly as if she was pressing her hands down on it. ‘I’ve been scared of the dark since I was a child and don’t tell me I should have grown out of it by now.’

The heartfelt punch behind her words hit him in the chest and left behind the trace of a question he could easily ignore. ‘I’ve been living in the dark for two years after an urban four-wheel drive, complete with a dirt-free roo bar, ran me off my bike when I was in Perth for a conference. I slammed into the road headfirst.’

Flashes of memory flitted in colour across his mind. Memories he’d learned to control. ‘Ironically, I’m told that my skin’s healed perfectly and I don’t have a single scar but the impact stole my sight.’ He forced his hands to stay in his lap and not grip the edge of the table as he braced himself for the platitudes he’d grown used to hearing.

‘That sucks.’

He blinked. She’d just done it again—defied convention. ‘It more than sucks, and coming back to Sydney is proving to be—’ Never admit weakness . He cut himself off before he said more than he intended.

‘Challenging. Purposeful. A relief?’ The words hung in the air, devoid of anything other than their natural sound.

‘I’m not sure it’s a relief.’ He ran his fingers along the edge of the spoon Wayan had put on the table as his marker to find his drink which was on a coaster directly above it.