Page 28 of Doc Hollywood

Walking over to the mirror, she examined her reflection, taking in the crease marks from the pillow on her face, the slight crusting around the corner of her mouth and her eyes.

Averting her eyes from her own image, she ran some water into the sink and splashed it over her face.

She strained her ears to hear any movement in her bedroom. Maybe he would get up? Maybe he would leave before she had to face him?

Then she remembered the reason he had slept in her bed in the first place, and she froze in horror. There was not only a Hollywood actor in her room—her brain shied away from the fact he was in her bed—there was also a junior doctor in her spare room.

There was no way that she could explain to someone she worked with why Taylor was in her room without becoming subject to hospital gossip.

Clara went from dragging her feet to dressing at hyperspeed. When she vigorously yanked open the bathroom door, Taylor’s eyes swung to her, surprise in his expression.

“Are you okay?” His voice was full of concern.

Clara shushed him and dashed through her room and out the door, hissing over her shoulder, “Keep your voice down and do not come out until I tell you the coast is clear.”

“Right, Okay. Um, sure,” he whispered, looking truly baffled.

Clara rushed into the kitchen and found Melanie, the junior doctor who had stayed overnight.

“Hi, Boss,” Melanie greeted Clara from next to the kitchen counter, where she waited as the coffee brewed. “Coffee?”

Clara’s eyes darted between the young doctor standing in front of her and her kitchen door, hoping that a Hollywood star wouldn’t come walking through it. This thought had her grinning at the ridiculousness of her current problem, which was an upgrade on her normal issues of what to eat for lunch or how to pay her bills.

“Yes, please,” Clara mumbled, taking a furtive glance at the kitchen door.

“Thanks for letting me stay over. I was way too tired to drive home.” Melanie poured the first cup of coffee and handed it to Clara before she took a cup for herself.

“That’s no problem,” Clara said, but her stomach was churning with anxiety about the situation, and despite her bleary head begging her for coffee, she wasn’t yet ready to subject her churning digestive system to it. “What are you up to today?” She blew across the top of her cup to give herself something to do, flinching at every sound in the house.

“I’m in emergency theatre.” Melanie picked up her phone to check the time. “In fact, I’d better go. I need to find a park and don’t want to be late. I hate it when I’m on the night shift and the day guys are late. I’ve stripped the bed, chucked the sheets in the washing machine, and set them going.”

“Thanks, Melanie. You didn’t need to do that,” Clara said gratefully.

Some of the juniors treated her house like a hotel and left a mess. The polite ones, who were respectful and appreciative, were the reason she kept allowing everyone to stay.

Melanie finished her coffee before replying, “It’s not a problem. And now I’ve got to go.” She put her cup in the dishwasher and grabbed her work bag off the floor before heading for the front door. “See you later,” the younger woman called and shut the door after her.

Clara stood frozen in the kitchen, breathing deeply and letting her agitation settle.

“Has she gone?” A deep male voice whispered close to her ear.

Clara let out a scream and jumped, spilling her coffee down her front. She stared down in disbelief. What was it about Taylor that kept making her pour drinks all over herself? When for many, many years, she had managed to only drink her coffee. Not wear it.

“Are you alright?” Taylor gazed wide-eyed down at her.

“Yeah. I’ll be back in a minute. Help yourself to coffee and food,” Clara whimpered, then yanked her hot, wet t-shirt away from her front and went sprinting down the corridor to her bedroom.

As she dashed through her room, despite the burning, she couldn’t help but glance at the rumpled bed, a bed that, for the first time in a long time, two people had slept in.

She hesitated, staring at it as a small part of her wished it was real. That she had someone and wasn’t alone all the time. The rational part of her mind shouted at her, that one, that person would never be Taylor. And two, her chest burned, and she needed to get in the shower and cool it off.

Once she had washed and changed into the second set of clothes of the day, Clara went back into the kitchen. As soon as she walked in the door Taylor thrust a plate into her hand.

Looking down in bewilderment, Clara examined the two pieces of toast sitting on the plate.

“It’s toast,” Taylor said helpfully.

“Yes, I see that,” she replied dryly, her gaze moving from the toast to the man standing in front of her.

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