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Rhys went very still. A child with a virus causing a serious condition. It was a little too close for comfort to his past. ‘So your family blames Maddie for your hearing loss?’ he asked.
‘No, of course they don’t!’ She frowned. ‘How on earth can you blame a child for falling ill? It’s not Maddie’s fault that she picked up a virus at school—the same as it wasn’t my fault that I caught it too and it affected me in a different way to the way it affected her.’ She shrugged. ‘These things just happen. You can’t let it ruin the rest of your life.’
These things just happen.
How very different his life might have been if his family had chosen that line of thought. If they’d been strong enough to pull together instead of letting his little sister’s death tear them apart.
‘Are you all right, Rhys?’ she asked, looking slightly concerned.
‘I’m fine.’ You couldn’t change the past, so in his view there was no point in talking about it. ‘And you’re right about this food. It’s fabulous.’
Katrina realised that Rhys had deliberately changed the subject. Something was clearly wrong, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Not here and now, at least. Maybe he’d open up to her when they got to know each other a little better.
They spent the rest of the evening talking about food and films and books, and Katrina was surprised by how much their tastes meshed. But it wasn’t just that. There was something about Rhys. Something in his blue, blue eyes that made her heart beat a little bit faster and made her wonder what it would feel like if that beautiful mouth slid across her own. Which shocked her, as she hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone—hadn’t even thought of kissing anyone—since Pete. Hadn’t thought of a man in terms of anything other than as a colleague for the last couple of years.
This was crazy.
Particularly as Rhys worked with her.
Been there, done that, worn the T-shirt to shreds. She certainly wasn’t going to risk a repeat of what had happened with Pete—the horrendous atmosphere that had, in the end, forced her to move hospitals to get away from the awkwardness. She loved working at the London Victoria—really loved the way everyone on the ward was like a huge extended family. No way would she be stupid enough to forget that lesson now, have an affair with Rhys and end up having to leave here, too.
Finally, after hot sweet mint tea and tiny pastries soaked in honey, she leaned back in her chair. ‘I’m almost too full to move.’
‘You should’ve left me the lamb,’ he said with a grin.
‘Baa,’ she retorted. Then she glanced at her watch. ‘Do you know, we’ve been here three hours?’ And yet it had felt like minutes.
‘I’d better get the bill,’ he said.
‘No, we’re going halves,’ she protested.
‘Absolutely not. This was my idea—my apology to you.’
‘Ah, but we’re friends now. And friends share.’
He folded his arms. ‘Don’t argue with me, Dr Gregory, or I’ll pull rank.’
‘Bossy, huh?’ But she wasn’t going to argue—she’d had much a better idea. ‘Tell you what. You can pay this time, but next time’s my bill. We can go and see a film in Leicester Square or something and talk about it over tapas afterwards.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘would be lovely. I’d like that.’
After Rhys had paid the bill, he insisted on seeing Katrina home.
‘There’s no need, you know,’ she said. ‘I’ve lived in London for ten years now. I’m used to being independent.’
‘Humour me. It’s a Welsh thing.’
‘So you’re Sir Lancelot?’ she teased.
‘Lancelot was French. Gawain, on the other hand, was Welsh.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, I can see I’m going to enjoy being friends with you, Rhys Morgan.’
He laughed back. ‘So are you going to let me see you home?’
‘If you insist. You could probably do with walking some of this food off, too,’ she added cheekily.
They left the restaurant and walked through the back streets. Eventually, Katrina paused outside a small Victorian terraced house. ‘This is mine. Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ she asked.
Although Rhys knew it would be more sensible to refuse—things were already going fast enough to set alarm bells ringing in his head—at the same time he didn’t want the evening to end just yet. ‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’
‘Good.’ She unlocked the door, then ushered him into the sitting room. ‘Take a seat. I’ll be back in a moment.’
Katrina’s house radiated calm. Pale walls, plants everywhere, and shelves of books and films. No music, though, he noticed. That was clearly one of the areas where he and Katrina differed. And that probably had much to do with her hearing.
