It was two months later, Valentine's Day to be exact, and Ric was tired from a long day at the hospital. One thing he found in this job was that too many people died far too often, and usually because they couldn't afford the treatment he was desperate to give them. But all that was over for one day, to start again tomorrow. As he walked out to his car and drove the few miles home, his thoughts inevitably strayed to Connie, as they usually did at this time of the day. It had hurt him immensely to see the pain she was in at Christmas, and to know that there was very little he could do about it. It had also made him blistering angry that any man could treat his wife or any woman so abominably. He knew that if he'd come into the slightest contact with Michael Beauchamp, he would have beaten him to a pulp, which wouldn't have helped the situation in any way. Her body had been so battered and bruised, and her spirit so broken, that all he'd wanted to do was to hold her and protect her for the rest of her life. Ric was under no illusions about his feelings for Connie. He knew that he loved her, and he also knew that she would probably never entirely reciprocate the depth of his affection for her. He didn't let it bother him, because he was happy to have as much of her as she felt able to give, without pressuring her for any more.
When he drew up at the back of his house, sliding his car into his usual space, his thoughts were still in England with Connie. What he could really do with now, he thought to himself, was the feeling of her soft, beautiful body in his arms, but he supposed it wasn't to be. Rounding the corner of his house, he approached the porch, and stopped in total astonishment. Sitting on the wicker seat on his porch, with a book in her lap, was Connie. Words failed him as he stared at her, briefly wondering whether or not she was really a figment of his overactive imagination. "Is it such a shock?" She asked with a gentle smile. Coming out of his reverie, Ric walked up the steps towards her. She had a hold all by her feet and rose to greet him as he approached. "I feel as though I've somehow conjured you up," He said in wonder. "Not quite," she said, putting her arms round him. "Just thought I'd drop in." Ric laughed. "Connie, you can hardly come half way across the world just to drop in on someone." "Why not?" She asked. "It seemed like a good idea, today being what it is." "It's years since I've had to remember it," He confessed with a smile. "I can't believe you're here," He said, slowly lowering his lips to hers. "Well, you'd better start believing it," She told him quietly. "For about a week anyway if you've no objections." "None whatsoever," He said in that firm, gravelly voice she knew so well.
When they went inside, Connie stated that after such a long flight, she definitely needed a shower. Heartily tempted to join her, though foregoing the pleasure this once, Ric said he would see what he could find them for dinner. When she reappeared, wearing nothing but a thin, silk robe, his eyes swept over her appreciatively. Ric was chopping salad, and had removed some fish from the fridge to put briefly under the grill. "You look incredible," He said, handing her a glass of wine. "A lot better than I did at Christmas then?" She asked dryly. "Much," He couldn't help agreeing with her. "I assume the ribs have healed?" "Yes, everything's pretty much back to normal. Well, excluding the state of my marriage." "You said in your letter that you'd seen Michael, but you were unusually evasive about the outcome." "Probably because I knew you wouldn't be very pleased with me," She said a little sheepishly. "I gave Michael a choice: either he grant me an instant divorce as well as his resignation from the hospital board, or I hand him over to the police. You can guess which one he chose." "I wouldn't have bothered even talking to him," Ric said stonily, his residual anger plain for her to see. "Putting myself through the indignity and humiliation of a trial, wasn't something I really wanted to contemplate," She told him seriously. "Far too many of my skeletons would have come out of the woodwork, and Michael would somehow have smarmed his way into a not guilty verdict, which would mean it had all been for nothing. Far better just to get him out of both my professional and personal life for good." "It's your decision," Ric said noncommittally, though Connie could see he didn't agree with her. "I didn't come here to talk about Michael," She said quietly. "As far as I'm concerned, his despicable existence is dead and buried, and I'd like him to stay that way." "I'm sorry," Ric said in contrition. "I suppose I wanted him to somehow have a taste of his own medicine." Putting the knife down on the chopping board, he put his arms round her and kissed her. "I can't help wanting to protect you," He said softly, wanting to tell her so much more, but thinking that she might not want to hear it.
There was so little between her body and his wandering hands, that it surprised neither of them when they ventured inside the robe. "I've missed your skin," He told her between soft and gentle kisses. "The way it's so fresh and soft, and so, edible," He added, slightly hesitating over the last adjective. Connie laughed huskily. His hands glided over her breasts inside the robe, gently grazing over the steadily rising nipples. "I don't think I've felt like this since Christmas," Connie admitted to him a little unsteadily. "And there was me having fantasies of you keeping yourself entertained," Ric said dryly. Then, seeing the thoroughly wicked smirk on his face, Connie asked, "Precisely what do you have in mind, Mr. Griffin?" "You'll have to wait and see," He promised silkily, sinking to his knees and parting the robe even further. As he kissed his way up her left thigh, Connie leaned back on the kitchen unit, knowing that in another minute her legs would barely be able to hold her up. He briefly laid his cheek against her extremely flat belly, taking in the subtle, familiar scent of her skin. Gently parting her legs, he began dropping feather-light kisses over her labia, for the moment avoiding the pinnacle of her clitoris. But when he inched his tongue into her entrance, she gasped, the sight of him on his knees before her making her feel incredibly naughty. This was Ric, one of the most sexually skilful men she'd ever known, on his knees before her giving her the most wonderful feeling in the world. Her hand dropped lightly onto his head, her fingers running through his thick, black hair. The early evening sunlight that was streaming through the open door, glinted off the occasional wisps of grey in his hair, showing her that he wasn't perfect, he was human, just like her. She hadn't asked him to do this, but here he was, in the most submissive position he could adopt for her. That tongue of his was so warm, that it set every one of her nerve endings on fire. He had his hands on her hips, lightly holding her in place as his mouth drove her closer and closer to the edge. When she came, her whole body tensed, followed by the shudders of aftershock coursing through her veins.
Getting to his feet, Ric put his arms round her and kissed her. The intensity with which she went after her own taste surprised and gratified him. "One would be forgiven for thinking that you'd like to do that for real," He said, almost groaning at the thought. "I did once," She amazed him by saying, a cheeky little smile on her face. "Really?" He said incredulously. "At university. It seemed like a good idea at the time." As Connie retied the robe and Ric slid the fish under the grill, he couldn't help but wonder the obvious. "Do you still find women attractive?" He asked, not entirely sure how to phrase this question. "Sometimes," She replied unselfconsciously. "There was a midwife not long ago, Mickie Hendry, who I couldn't help flirting with, because she had the most enormous crush on me imaginable. However, she is only twenty-two, and I wouldn't want to corrupt her so far innocent spirit." "That's almost as bad as Jess and Zubin," Ric said with a sardonic smile. "Which is why I didn't pursue it," Connie said firmly.
As they ate their dinner, Connie didn't think she could possibly be happier. Here she was, with the man who had cared for her after Michael's assault, and whose ministrations on her body could make her see stars. She was away from the hospital and all its pointless politics, and all she need do for the next week was rest, sunbathe and definitely swim. Surely nothing could happen to spoil this haven of contented bliss.