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Oh God.
Jac opened her eyes. Above her, the room slowly revolved, making her feel as if she were floating on a high sea. Her head didn't hurt - yet - but she had no doubt it would. She had stopped counting after the third gin and tonic.
It had been quite a party though. Everyone had been in a good mood. Her feet were still bruised where Sacha had trodden on them. A few people would have questions to answer from their nearest and dearest about indiscretions in the cloakrooms.
She was okay though. Hadn't done anything stupid. A bit of wild dancing was as bad as it got.
The hotel room was decent too. Strange though. She swore the room decor had been green the night before. And the bathroom was in front of the bed, not to the side. That mirror surely wasn't...
A sound close by broke into her thoughts.
Shit.
Someone else was in the room.
No, wait....
Someone else was in the bed...
Jac sat up rapidly. Big mistake. Her head rang like the Liberty bell, causing her to groan and hold it until it stopped throbbing. She dared not look at the person lying beside her.
She dared not even think who it could be.
Think, damn it!
No, that wasn't quite true. She remembered being in the toilets with Nicky for a long time. Nicky was hiding because she had snogged Cameron and now he was following her like a lost puppy. Oh, Serena was there too. Being sick, if she remembered rightly. She said it was a stomach bug and left early. Jac believed her. That woman's stomach was capable of withholding industrial quantities of Shiraz. It would have taken a lot for her to miss the chance of a free bar.
The lump in the bed shifted and rolled over, still hidden in the duvet.
Who was it? Jac strained to remember. She had danced with Sacha, and with Ric....
Surely not. Ric was an attractive man but she had no intention of being another notch on his bedpost.
Oh God, please not Thomas Campbell-Gore. She would gouge out her own eyes before she had to look at the smug, self-satisfied look on his face.
Relief rushed through her as she remembered he wasn't even at the party.
This definitely wasn't her room. A jacket hung over the desk chair. A dark suit jacket, which meant a man. Typical. It would have been far more interesting if it had been a woman.
Who the hell wore a suit to a New Year's Eve party?
She turned to the snoring lump in the bed and carefully peered under the top of the duvet. Dark, somewhat curly hair. There was only one person it could possibly have been.
Henrik Hanssen. CEO of Holby City Hospital. And her boss.
Shit, shit, shit!
She groaned quietly, finally remembering. Taking deep breaths, she assessed her situation.
Okay, so shagging Hanssen wasn't so bad. At least it hadn't been one of the porters. Or someone else's husband or partner. Neither would have done her reputation any good.
And she had to admit, apart from the hangover, she felt kind of .... nice. Sore, but it was a sweet feeling. A little stretched. Somewhat bruised in places.
The man is full of surprises, she thought. Well... no, not really. She had chosen him for a particular reason. He hadn't had any for a while, which meant he had a lot of pent-up energy, just as she did. It had been a conscious decision, not fuelled by alcohol, but by Mother Nature. The lioness needed the strongest lion to mate with, and ...
Oooookaaaay, she could foresee a problem. They hadn't used any protection. At the time, thanks to liberal quantities of Hendricks gin, it hadn't seemed important.
Shit, shit, shit, shit!
She was never, ever drinking gin again.
Ever, ever, ever....
She needed to get a morning-after pill ASAP. There was no way she was going to risk bringing any spawn of hers and Hanssen's into the world. Fast action was needed.
As quietly as she could, she rose from the bed and tiptoed to where her dress was pooled on the floor.
Knickers.... had she even been wearing any?
"You better not be wearing them, Henrik," she muttered.
Bra.... nope, she couldn't see that either.
Then she glanced upwards. Her scarlet bra was dangling from the light fitting, the strap caught firmly around the candle lights. If she wanted to get it down, she had to climb on the bed.
"Fucking, shitting hell," she hissed under her breath as carefully, she stood on the bed and reached for the garment. It was further away than it first looked. As she caught it, she lost her balance, grabbing desperately at the light fitting. As it swung away from her, she caught it and found herself hanging on for dear life, her toes barely touching the bed.
She was stuck.
***
Henrik had woken earlier, when it was still dark. He lay staring at the dark ceiling, thinking about the night before. He had rather let his hair down and was poised to regret it. His and Ms. Naylor's actions had hardly been professional, considering their positions and standing in the hospital. Perhaps a free bar hadn't been such a good idea after all.
But as he thought about it, he could imagine Ric telling him not to be such a fool. It wasn't as if other senior staff hadn't indulged in relationships with colleagues in the past.
Although he could hardly describe his dalliance with Ms. Naylor as a relationship. It had been a bit of fun. And God, he surely deserved that after the last eighteen months. It was hardly the worst thing he had done.
He glanced over at her sleeping form. Her face was much softer when she was asleep, devoid of the stresses of her everyday life. The smile on her face was gratifying, too. He knew he hadn't been a complete failure in the bedroom department.
That was an understatement, actually. He surprised himself and certainly shocked her by being as eager the fifth time as he had been the first.
First the floor. No kissing, she said.
Then the chair. Her tongue down his throat.
Once in the shower, ostensibly to wash off champagne and strawberry juice.
And the bath, smothered in bubbles.
Both drunk and exhausted.
Finally the bed, collapsing into post-coital sleep.
Her final statement. "I won't be here when you wake up."
Yet there she was.
They had both been reckless and stupid but on second thoughts, maybe not. Jac Naylor wouldn't want to let complicated feelings get in the way of what was essentially a one night stand. She had offered commitment-free sex and on a whim, he had taken it.
End of. Nothing more to say.
Reassured, he drifted back to sleep.
When he woke again, he was greeted by a rather lovely view of Jac Naylor's naked buttocks. She was hanging on to the light above as if her life depended on it.
"Miss Naylor? What on earth are you doing?"
"What does it look like? Don't just sit there. Help me!"
"You seem to have everything under control." He lay back against the pillows and admired her round bottom and long legs.
Yes, she certainly was good at being in control. Last night had been a case in point. He hadn't argued when she grabbed his tie and said, "come on, Henrik. It's time you had a good shag."
Had they danced first?
Oh yes. Slowly, if he remembered correctly, before she whispered those words in his ear.
"Now, before I change my mind," she had continued, leading him from the party and up the stairs. "It's your lucky night, Henrik. I'm in the mood to climb you like a tree." She had pushed him into his room and shut the door, before launching herself at him and planting her lips on his.
Had he tried to stop her?
Of course he had. He was a gentleman, and being CEO, he had certain responsibilities. He had offered to buy her a drink instead, to which she had laughed.
"Henrik, I don't want to date you. It's New Year's Eve, and frankly, I have had sex for a very long time. I know damn well you haven't. We're both single, so it makes total sense for us to copulate like little fluffy bunnies. If you're interested."
"Are you sure about this?" He had asked her more than once, the final time up in his room, where she was scribbling on a piece of hotel notepaper.
"Positive." She took off his jacket. "Come on, shoes and socks first. I never screw a man with his socks on."
He did as he was told. The truth was, now they were alone it all seemed rather exciting.
"No-one can say we slept our way to the top, can they?" She continued reasonably.
No. He had to agree they could not.
He stood in the middle of the room, wondering what to do next.
"God, how long has it been since you last had a woman?" She stood with hands on hips, waiting for his answer.
"I'm embarrassed to confess I don't know." He really didn't. He had put those kinds of urges behind him. Relationships were all so complicated, especially with someone like him. Roxanna .... he couldn't think about that.
Jac stood in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Everyone saw me practically clubbing you over the head and dragging you away. The rumours have already started so you really have nothing to lose. Champagne?"
I don't have any." He felt rather useless. As he said it, there was a knock at the door.
"Just as well I thought of that." Jac took the tray from the waiter and closed the door again. He opened his mouth to protest, to say something about the impropriety of it all, but just in time, came to his senses.
She was beautiful, and single, and wanted him. God knows why, but she did.
For the first time, he smiled. They clinked glasses.
"Good," Jac said. "Let's get naked."
***
"Help me, then!" She snapped as she swayed precariously on the edge of the bed.
He climbed up on the bed and caught her around the waist. His body was very long and warm against her back.
"Let go. I've got you."
"I need my bra, Henrik."
"I'll get it. Just let go." He gave her a little shake. She let go of the bra quite suddenly and they both tumbled back on the bed, Jac on top of him.
After a moment, she squirmed against him. "You're naked!"
"So are you," he pointed out, not unreasonably.
She was aware of him shifting against her, wanting more. She sat up rapidly and moved away.
"No, no, absolutely not. That was a one shot deal."
He covered himself with the duvet and looked resigned. "You mean a five shot deal."
"I wasn't counting," she lied. She dressed hurriedly whilst he watched her. Her bra was still on the light fitting but it would have to stay there.
"Thank you," he said, as she headed for the door.
She paused. "Just to be clear, this doesn't mean we're engaged."
"Of course not," he said formally.
"I'm going to the chemists now. Just in case."
He looked alarmed. "In case of what?"
She rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you know how babies are created."
"Oh! Yes, well, I mean no. Definitely. Good thinking."
She forced herself not to smile. "One of us has to. And let's keep this between us."
He stared seriously back at her. "My lips are sealed, Ms. Naylor."
***
The following day, Jac was back at work. She drove in with Sacha, who obviously had something on his mind. He stared at his phone, started to speak, then stopped again.
"Spit it out," she said finally. "What's the problem?"
"Well...." Sacha pulled a face. "I've just had a text from Ric. It just says, "ask Jac about Five Times A Night Hanssen. Capital letters..."
Jac slammed on the brakes, almost catapulting Sacha from his seat.
"What?"
"I'm just saying what it said. Don't shoot the messenger. Is it true? You did....?"
Jac groaned, her head resting on the steering wheel. "How the hell did Ric find out?" Then she remembered. "He was in the room next door. And now everyone at Holby knows."
"Um... probably. I doubt they'll say anything though. Not if they want to keep their jobs."
Jac parked the car. "Great. And how am I supposed to run Darwin properly when I've lost everyone's respect?"
They began walked through the car park, Sacha jogging after her to keep up.
"I doubt you have at all. If they know you're seeing Hanssen that gives you even more clout, doesn't it?"
"So you're suggesting I need a powerful man to consolidate my position? Thanks, Sacha. It's the 21st century now, if you hadn't noticed."
"I didn't mean..." He ran after her. "So are you seeing him now?"
She snorted. "No. "
"No plans to invite Henrik for Sunday lunch?"
"Shut up."
"No .... wedding bells on the horizon?"
"You really do have a death wish, don't you?"
"Well ... sometimes."
She scowled at him. "That isn't funny."
They continued walking.
"But Hanssen, though," Sacha continued, running to keep up with her. "Was he ... any good?"
"I can barely walk," she deadpanned.
"How many times? Was it five? That's more than I've had in..."
"Sacha!"
They arrived at the lift. When the doors opened, she barred his way. "Take the stairs. You need the exercise."
***
Henrik was humming as he entered the lift earlier that morning. At the last moment, Dom joined him.
"Good morning, Mr. Copeland."
"Mr. Hanssen. You sound cheerful."
"And why not. The sun is shining. Spring is in the air."
"The sap is rising. The birds are twitterpating." Dom cast his gaze innocently to the ceiling.
Henrik compressed his lips, his good mood evaporating. It was quite obvious to what the wretched man was referring. He ran his finger around the collar of his black cashmere polo neck. It was hardly suitable attire for a day in the office but it wasn't as if he had any choice. The bite marks on his neck wouldn't be disguised any other way. He hoped to God he wouldn't be called into theatre any time soon.
The elevator door slid open.
"You got off lightly. Most praying mantis kill and eat their mates," Dom said, ducking through the lift door and escaping before Henrik could retort.
Henrik continued up to Darwin, quickly placed the box on Jac's desk and left before anyone could register his presence. In his office, he went through his post and emails. Amongst them was a stiffly worded email from the hotel manager, asking for renumeration for the damage done in his hotel room, including the replacement of a small chair and occasional table. The light fitting had also been damaged, with two bulbs no longer working.
How had that happened?
At the end was a broad hint that perhaps next year, the hospital find another venue for their New Year celebrations.
Henrik sighed deeply, remembering how the damage to the table had been sustained. Jac stood on it so she could look at him face to face, and without warning had thrown herself into his arms. As he grabbed her, he fell backwards, across the chair, breaking two of the legs off. Jac's heel had gouged a scratch right across the surface of the table. At the time, they found it hilarious, lying in a heap and laughing their heads off.
Oh yes, and there was the red wine he had procured from the mini-bar, most of which went on the cream carpet than down their throats.
And he wasn't sure where the remainder of the strawberries ended up.
He dreaded to think.
Pushing horrible thoughts to one side, he resisted the temptation to hide in his office for the day and made his way down to Keller. He had to check on one of his patients, back on the ward with complications after an operation he had performed before Christmas.
When he arrived, Sacha greeted him. "That's a departure for you," he said, motioning to Henrik's black polo neck jumper and suit combo. "Very French Connection. I mean the film, not the clothing brand..."
Henrik snatched the file from him. "My patient, Mr. Levy?" His frown warned Sacha to stop talking about anything other than work.
"Over here." They walked together through the ward. On the way, Ric arrived. He gave Henrik a knowing grin and a wink.
It was official. Everyone knew.
"You randy old dog," Ric said to him as soon as they were alone. He punched him on the arm. "Never thought you had it in you."
"Is my personal life going to be the source of amusement for everyone today?"
Ric grinned widely. "Absolutely."
Henrik couldn't stand it any more. As he headed rapidly back to his office, he passed the staff room. Dom was in there with Essie,
"It's the oldest trick in the book to hide hickeys. He might as well have a sign over his head saying I boned Jac Naylor. Not once but five time. Five!"
"Dom..." Essie spotted Henrik looming in the doorway.
"I mean..." Dom stuttered. "It's good, isn't it. Not that isn't anyone else's business who you bone... I mean spend..."
"See to your patients, Mr. Copeland!" Henrik stormed from the ward, practically flattening Lofty, who was coming through the door in the opposite direction.
"Thought he'd look happier than that after five rounds with Jac," Lofty commented, peeling himself from the wall.
Essie pulled him to one side. "How do you know about that?"
Lofty shrugged. "Everyone knows. Zav was in the room opposite with Donna. Couldn't sleep a wink, so they said."
***
All day, Fletch was grumpy. He barely acknowledged Jac other than to talk about work, and then only in the briefest possible words.
"What's rattling his cage?" She asked Frieda.
"I have no idea. Maybe he's upset because you've replaced him with a more powerful model. Something five times more powerful, perhaps?"
Jac gave her a warning glance. "If I hear anyone talking about what happened on New Year, I will find them. And I will kill them."
"You asked." Frieda turned away. "Oh, and everyone knows. It isn't a secret."
Jac went to her office. On her desk was an attractively wrapped box. A card was stuck in the ribbon, with a message written in black in.
These are of more use to you. HH
She lifted the lid. Inside was a set of wine-red lingerie in exactly her size. On top was a note.
To replace what was lost. Thank you again.
She hated to think what had happened to her original underwear. The thought that he might have them as reminders wasn't one she wanted to dwell on. As she moved the box to a drawer, Fletch walked in and scowled when he saw the box.
"What's that?"
"No concern of yours." She put the box in her desk drawer.
"There are two patients coming in from AAU. One of them has an iron bar stick out of their chest." He made to walk out again.
"If you have something to say, Fletch, just say it."
Fletch hovered, then turned back. "All right, I will. Hanssen? Really?"
She shrugged. "Not that it's any of your business but why not?"
"How do you think that makes me feel? Everyone's looking at me, going 'poor Fletch. You've got no chance now!' I look a right muppet!"
"So what's new? Close the door on your way out." She opened her laptop.
"No!" Fletch banged his fist on the desk.
"Well, look at you, getting all masterful. When has my personal life been any of your concern?"
"I thought..."
"You thought what? I'm single, Fletch. So's Hanssen. We made it. It was good. End of story. Move on. Nothing to do with you."
"But..." He motioned to where the box had been moments before.
But what, Fletch? Why do men always find a way of making everything about them?"
Fletch thrust a stiff finger at her, fighting for words. She moved it away from her face.
"Take your Neanderthal pride elsewhere. If I were a man you would be slapping me on the back."
Fletch stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Jac's pager bleeped. Hanssen. She wondered when he'd be calling.
***
"Everyone knows," he said as soon as she closed the door.
"I know. Next time, don't get a room opposite George and Mildred. I don't know why you're complaining, Henrik. People now think you're a demi-god and I'm the Holby bike. Seems you have the sweeter end of the deal."
They eyeballed each other for a few moments.
I don't regret it," he said finally.
She let out a breath. "Well, that's good. Just do me a favour and drop the "woe is me" act. Frankly, it's starting to make me look bad."
Henrik tapped his pen on the desk, thinking.
"All right. I can see I've been ... unchivalrous."
"Let everyone have their fun and get on with their jobs. As soon as someone else swings from the chandeliers it'll all be forgotten. I just want you to agree to one thing."
He looked up in alarm. "What's that?"
"If anyone asks, just tell them I was the best you ever had."
He looked relieved. "Well, that's ... wouldn't be an exaggeration, Ms. Naylor. I don't suppose..."
"No."
"I didn't think so." He sighed in resignation.
Jac left him and went back upstairs to Darwin. Fletch pounced as soon as she arrived back at her office.
"I don't want to hear it," she said.
"All right. I won't tell you I've been a jealous idiot who knows he doesn't own you," he said.
She paused. "I'm glad you realise that."
"And five times is nothing. Just saying." He grinned and ducked out of her way.
Jac smiled to herself.
"Happy New Year," she murmured, before heading out onto the ward again.