Dr Cinderella's Midnight Fling

Praise for Kate Hardy:

‘When you pick up a romance novel

by Kate Hardy, you know that you’re going to be

reading a spellbinding novel which you

will want to devour in a single sitting and

A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT is certainly no exception.’

—cataromance.com on A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT

KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical™ Romances for nearly five years now, and also writes for Riva™. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!

Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com

Also by Kate Hardy:

Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance: ITALIAN DOCTOR, NO STRINGS ATTACHED ST PIRAN’S: THE FIREMAN AND NURSE LOVEDAY—St Piran’s Hospital A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT NEUROSURGEON…AND MUM!

Mills & Boon® Riva™: RED WINE AND HER SEXY EX* CHAMPAGNE WITH A CELEBRITY* GOOD GIRL OR GOLD-DIGGER?

*Château Lefèvre linked duo

These books are also available in ebook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dr Cinderella’s

Midnight Fling

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Fiona—my very best friend and the sister I wish I had—with much love

CHAPTER ONE

‘CINDERELLA, you are so going to the ball,’ Sorcha said as Jane opened her front door.

Jane stared at her best friend. ‘But I’ve only just got in from late shift.’

‘Perfect timing, then.’ Sorcha glanced at her watch. ‘The taxi’s going to be here in thirty minutes, so you don’t have time to argue.’

‘I don’t have anything to wear.’

‘Yes, you do. Right here. It’s an unbirthday present from me because I saw it when I was in town and thought the colour was just perfect for you.’ Sorcha waved a carrier bag at her. ‘Go and have a shower and wash your hair. I’ll dry it for you and do your make-up.’

‘But—’ Jane began, and then subsided. She knew from past experience that, once Sorcha was in full bossy mode, there was no stopping her.

‘It’s not as if you’ve got anything better to do tonight,’ Sorcha added. ‘And ironing and cleaning your bathroom don’t count. You didn’t go to a single one of the Christmas nights out, you’re always switching your duty so you can avoid team nights out, and it’s well past time you stopped letting Shaun ruin your life.’

Jane didn’t have an answer for any of that. She knew it was all true.

Sorcha hugged her swiftly. ‘I know he hurt you badly, Janey, but you can’t hide behind work for the rest of your life. Look, I’m not telling you to go and have a wild fling with the first man you meet. Just come out with me tonight and enjoy yourself. Have some fun.’

Jane wrinkled her nose. ‘There’s a teensy problem. I don’t actually have a ticket for the ball.’ She’d given a donation toward the funds instead.

‘Actually, you do have one. From Maddie and Theo, with their love—and she says if you say you can’t accept it, then she’ll accept a promise of babysitting one evening in return, but you’re coming to the ball and that’s final. And Theo echoed the lot.’

Jane knew when she was beaten. ‘I can hardly argue with my boss,’ she said wryly.

‘Attagirl.’ Sorcha smiled at her. ‘You’ve got twenty-seven minutes. Go, go, go!’

By the time the taxi arrived, Jane hardly recognised herself. She normally kept her hair tied back in a pony-tail at work, but Sorcha had blow-dried it into a sleek bob. Her make-up was light but still managed to emphasise her hazel eyes and make them sparkle. And the dress was the prettiest she’d ever seen, with a swishy skirt that made her feel light on her feet; it fitted as if it had been made to measure.

‘Perfect,’ Sorcha said with an approving nod. ‘Let’s go.’

‘What do you mean, you can’t make it?’ Ed asked.

‘I’m stuck in Suffolk,’ George explained.

Ed’s heart skipped a beat as a nasty thought hit him. ‘Is Dad all right?’

‘As far as I know. I’m not at the hall.’

‘Uh-huh.’ So there could only be one other reason why his older brother was standing him up, Ed thought. He’d had a better offer than a hospital charity ball. ‘A girl,’ he said with a sigh.

‘No, actually. My car had a slight argument with a tree.’

‘What? Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. Nobody’s hurt, except the car. Stop fussing,’ George said. ‘Metal’s easily fixed.’

‘I’m a doctor. If you tell me you’ve crashed your car, of course I’m going to fuss,’ Ed retorted.

‘Honestly, I’m fine. Not a scratch on me—unlike my poor car. I’ll be back in London later in the week. I’m just sorry I’ve let you down.’

‘Just as long as you’re really OK. What happened?’

‘I took the corner a bit too fast,’ George said cheerfully. ‘But I’ve learned my lesson, so don’t nag. I spent hours polishing that chrome to perfection. I’ll be more careful in future.’

Ed could see exactly why his stepmother had begged him to talk some sense into his older brother. Not that he thought George would actually listen to him, but maybe some of Ed’s seriousness and common sense would rub off on George and he’d steady down a bit. ‘OK. I’ll see you when you’re back. Try not to break your neck.’

George just laughed. ‘Have a good time tonight.’

Ed replaced the receiver and straightened his bow tie. Well, it wasn’t the end of the world that he had to go to the ball on his own. It was a chance to meet some of his new colleagues and have some fun, as well as raising money for specialist equipment at the London Victoria.

He’d liked Theo Petrakis, the senior consultant, at their first meeting. And the photograph of the three little girls on his desk had sealed the deal: Theo was very clearly a family man. Just as Ed was, too; his decision to move back to London from Glasgow was less to do with being promoted and more to do with being nearer to his brother and his sisters. Prompted partly by a quiet phone call from Frances saying that George desperately needed someone to talk sense into him before he broke his neck doing some extreme sport or other.

That was Ed’s slot in the family: the younger son of Lord Somers was the sensible, serious one who fixed things. George, the heir to the barony, dated a different gorgeous girl each week and would be the first one down a double black diamond ski run, making him a firm favourite with the paparazzi. And sometimes Ed really worried that his brother was going too far. Still. There was nothing he could do about it tonight. Once George was back in London, he’d take his brother out to dinner and see if he could talk him into calming down just enough to stop the rest of the family worrying themselves sick about him.

‘Jake’s over there—and he’s on his own,’ Jane pointed out as she and Sorcha walked into the ballroom.

‘And?’

‘Sorcha, this is the ball. It’s your chance to get him to notice that you’re stunning as well as good at your job.’

Sorcha shrugged. ‘Some other time. I’m not abandoning you on your first night out since…’ Her words tailed off.

Jane met it head on. ‘Since Shaun.’ Her ex-fiancé. Who’d cheated on Jane with her twin sister and shattered every illusion Jane had. ‘I know. But it’s not as if I don’t know most of the people here. I can look after myself.’ Jane smiled at her. ‘And anyway, I need to find Maddie and Theo to thank them for the ticket. Go and talk to Jake.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Very sure.’ Jake and Sorcha would make a great couple; Jane thought he just needed to wake up and see what was right under his nose. ‘Go for it. I’ll see you later. Good luck!’

Once Sorcha was on her way over to Jake, Jane sought out her boss and his wife. ‘Thank you so much for the ticket.’

‘Our pleasure, Janey,’ Maddie Petrakis said, hugging her. ‘I’m just glad Sorcha talked you into it.’

‘But I’m definitely babysitting for you. Two nights,’ Jane added.

‘Janey, you look lovely.’ Theo, the senior consultant on the maternity ward, gave her an appreciative smile. ‘If I was single, I’d be sweeping you off your feet.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She flapped a dismissive hand. Everyone knew that Theo only had eyes for his wife. But the compliment still pleased her.

‘I love your shoes,’ Maddie said. ‘And have you had your hair done? It’s gorgeous.’

‘Sorcha nagged me into letting her blow-dry it,’ Jane confessed.

‘Good for her. Keep it like that,’ Maddie said. ‘Even if it means getting up twenty minutes early. Because it really suits you.’

Again, the compliment warmed Jane. Maddie was one of her favourite colleagues, and had been a real rock when the hospital grapevine had been buzzing about her last year. Having been through a similar thing with her first husband, Maddie understood exactly how Jane felt about Shaun’s very public betrayal. And she’d joined with Sorcha in helping Jane keep her head held high and ignoring the gossip.

‘Have you bought your tombola tickets yet?’ Maddie asked. ‘The prizes are brilliant this year.’

‘If there’s a balloon ride among the prizes, Dr Petrakis,’ Theo said, ‘then we’re buying every single ticket until we get it.’

Maddie actually blushed, and Jane laughed. ‘I won’t ask you what that’s about. But, yes, I’ll buy tickets. And I’ll do a stint selling them, if you want.’

‘No backstage stuff for you, Dr Cooper. You’re here to dance your feet off,’ Maddie said. ‘Tonight’s all about having fun.’

‘And raising money for hospital equipment.’

‘That, too. OK, you can go and buy loads of tombola tickets—and then you get on that dance floor,’ Maddie said. ‘Actually—that’s senior consultant’s orders, isn’t it, Theo?’

‘Certainly is,’ Theo agreed with a smile. ‘Actually, I’m trying to keep an eye out for our new consultant. He doesn’t start officially until next week, but Maddie bullied him into buying a ticket for the ball.’

‘I was off duty when he met everyone else in the department,’ Jane said. ‘What’s he like?’

‘A nice guy. He’ll fit in to the department, no problems,’ Theo said. ‘You’ll like him. Which is just as well, as he’s going to be working with you.’

‘So if I don’t see him tonight, I’ll meet him on Tuesday morning.’

‘Yes. Now, go and enjoy yourself,’ Maddie ordered with a smile.

Jane had got halfway over to the tombola table when her phone beeped. She looked at the screen automatically—the senior midwife had promised to get in touch if there were any complications with Ellen Baxter, a patient Jane was worried about—but the message wasn’t from Iris. It was from her twin, the one person Jane didn’t want to hear from tonight. She groaned inwardly. Right now, she was feeling good about herself, and Jenna always managed to change that within the space of ten seconds.

Even the title of the message stung: PJSB. Short for ‘Plain Jane, Super-Brain’, the nickname Jenna had coined when they were ten and Jane had won a scholarship to the local private school. Jenna had inherited their mother’s genes and was tall and beautiful and effortlessly skinny; compared to her, any woman would look plain. But Jenna had always been quick to point out that Jane was six inches shorter than her, plain and dumpy—especially during their teenage years, and Jane’s confidence in the way she looked had reached rock bottom. Jenna had spread the hated nickname among the popular girls at school, to the point where Jane had simply retreated into her books to avoid them.

She meant to close the screen without reading the message—she’d learned the hard way that Jenna only ever contacted her when she wanted something, so it could wait until tomorrow—but she accidentally pressed the wrong button and the words came up on the screen.

Soz it came out lik dis. U shda dun da i/view.

Interview? What interview?

Then Jane remembered. Jenna’s publicist had wanted her to be interviewed a few months ago for a Celebrity Life feature about twins, along the lines of Jenna being the beauty and Jane being the brains. Jane had been in the middle of exams and simply hadn’t had time to do an interview, much less spend a day on a photo shoot. She’d explained why, and thought that was an end to it—but clearly they’d gone ahead with the idea anyway.

Even though she knew it was a bad move, she couldn’t help clicking on the attachment.

And then she really wished she hadn’t done it. She definitely hadn’t posed for that photograph. It looked as if it had been taken after she’d been at the tail end of a busy week on night shifts. She was wearing ratty sweat pants and an old T-shirt under a zipped hooded jacket that had seen better days, with her hair tucked under a woolly hat—clearly ready to do her daily run before crashing into bed. There was nothing in the article about what Jane actually did for a living; it was all about Jenna and unidentical twins.

Worse still, the magazine was going to be on sale in the hospital shop, where everyone could see it. She’d better warn Theo, because it wasn’t going to look good for the department. But not right now; it wasn’t often that he and Maddie had a night out, and Jane didn’t want to spoil things for them. There wasn’t anything anyone could do about it right now in any case, so leaving it until tomorrow was the right thing to do.

She closed the phone, but the question buzzed round her head. Why did Jenna hate her so much? Jane had tried and tried and tried to be supportive to her twin. She knew it wasn’t easy, being a supermodel. You were always in the public eye; you had to watch what you did and said and ate and drank, and whatever you did people would twist it to suit their own ends. Plus there were always new models coming along, ready to take your place in the spotlight. Not to mention those who were quick to take advantage. It was a lonely, precarious business that had left their mother fragile and prone to bouts of serious depression. Jenna, too, suffered from headaches and what she called ‘nerves’, whereas Jane had the constitution of an ox and hardly ever caught so much as a cold. But she’d tried to be kind. She’d looked after them both. She’d never complained, never said or done anything to make them feel they were a burden to her.

And yet nothing she did could ever please Jenna or Sophia. They seemed to resent her and look down on her in equal measure, and Jane had no idea how to change that.

She blew out a breath. Sorcha had talked her into coming to the hospital ball and Jane wasn’t going to let her twin get to her tonight. All the same, instead of going to the tombola table, she went to the bar and drank a glass of champagne straight down before ordering a second. The bubbles, to her relief, hit immediately. They didn’t take the magazine picture out of her head, but they did at least dull the edge of her misery.

She’d just bought her second glass of champagne and was turning back to the dance floor to go and find someone she knew to chat to and dance with when someone jogged her arm and the entire glassful went over the arm of the man standing next to her, soaking his white tuxedo.

‘Oh, no! I’m so sorry,’ she said, horrified. ‘Please excuse me.’

‘It was an accident. It’s not a problem.’ He took a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped up the spill.

The handkerchief wasn’t enough; she knew the champagne was going to leave a stain over his sleeve.

‘Please, send me the cleaning bill.’ She was about to grab a pen and pad from her handbag to scribble down her details for him when she realised: she didn’t have either. The dinky little bag she’d brought tonight was less than an eighth of the size of the bag she normally used—the one that Sorcha always teased her was big enough to carry the kitchen sink as well as everything else. In this one, Jane could just about cram her door key, her wallet and her mobile phone into, and even that was pushing it. She was about to pull out her phone and offer to text him her details when he smiled.

‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Really. But if you want to make amends, you could dance with me.’

She blinked. What? The guy looked like James Bond. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that made her feel as if her temperature had just gone up six degrees. He was the kind of man that attracted third glances, let alone second. ‘Dance with you?’ she asked stupidly.

He shrugged. ‘It’s what people are supposed to do at a charity ball, isn’t it?’

‘I…’ Yes. But this man was a stranger. The epitome of a tall, dark, handsome stranger. ‘Well, if you’re sure. I’m J—’

‘No names,’ he cut in, smiling to take the sting from his words. ‘I rather like the idea of dancing with a gorgeous stranger. Cinderella.’

Gorgeous? Even Sorcha’s skill with make-up couldn’t make her look as stunning as her mother and her sister. Jane knew she was just ordinary. All the same, she smiled. ‘If I’m Cinderella, does that make you Prince Charming?’

‘Are you looking for a Prince Charming?’

‘No. I don’t need rescuing,’ she said. Though it wasn’t strictly true. Right now, she could really do with dancing with the best-looking man in the room. To take the sharpness of that article away. Honestly compelled her to add, ‘Besides, your toes might really regret that offer later. I have two left feet.’

‘I don’t. So dance with me anyway,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘If you have bruised toes tomorrow, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Somehow, I think my toes will be just fine.’

And then Jane discovered that Prince Charming could dance. Really dance. Moving round the floor with him was like floating. Effortless. He was guiding her, so her footwork couldn’t possibly go wrong. She’d never, ever danced like this before, and it was a revelation. This was what it was like not to be clumsy.

When the music changed to a slower number, he didn’t let her go. It felt completely natural to move closer. To dance cheek to cheek with him.

His skin was soft against hers, with no hint of stubble—clearly he’d shaved just before coming out tonight—and she could smell the citrus tang of his aftershave. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the moment. Right now she really could imagine herself as Cinderella, dancing with her Prince Charming as he spun her round the floor.

And then she felt him move slightly. His lips brushed against the corner of her mouth.

If she pulled away, she knew he’d stop. All her instincts told her that her gorgeous stranger was a gentleman.

But what if she moved closer? Would he kiss her properly?

Even the idea of it made her pulse rate speed up and her breathing become shallower.

And then she did it. Moved just a little bit closer.

His arms tightened round hers, and his mouth brushed against hers. Sweet, tempting, promising: and it sent a shiver all the way through her. It had been way too long since she’d been kissed; she couldn’t help responding, tipping her head back just the tiniest bit to give him better access to her mouth.

She kept her eyes closed, concentrating purely on the touch of his lips against hers. The way it made her skin feel super-sensitised; the way he coaxed her into responding, kissing him back. Tiny, sweet, nibbling kisses, almost like a dance in itself, leading each other further and further on.

She couldn’t help opening her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. And either that glass of champagne had seriously gone to her head, or Prince-Charming-meets-James-Bond was the most amazing kisser she’d ever met, because he made her feel as if she were floating. As if there was nobody else in the room, just the two of them and the music.

He kissed her through the rest of the song. And maybe the next, too, because when he broke the kiss she realised that it was a fast dance, and they were swaying together, locked in each other’s arms as if it were still a slow dance, even though the band was playing something uptempo.

He blinked then, as if he were just as shocked.

‘Wow. It’s been a long time since someone’s had that effect on me, Cinders,’ he said softly.

‘You’re telling me.’ She couldn’t remember reacting like this to anyone, ever. Even to the man she’d once planned to marry.

He leaned forward and stole a kiss. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Leave a ballroom where she knew most of the people there, to go to some unspecified place with a complete stranger she’d only just met and whose name she didn’t even know? She’d have to be crazy.

Or very, very angry and hurt. Enough to think that going off with the most gorgeous-looking man she’d ever seen—a man who’d kissed her to the point where she’d forgotten where she was—would make her feel much, much better.

‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked.

‘I have a room here,’ he said. ‘So I was thinking room service. More champagne. Freshly squeezed orange juice. And a toasted cheese sandwich.’

If he’d said caviar or lobster, she would’ve said no. But the homeliness of a toasted cheese sandwich…Now that was seriously tempting. ‘Yes. On condition.’

‘Condition?’

‘No names. No questions.’

His eyes widened. ‘Just one night? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes.’ Tomorrow morning she’d be back to being Plain Jane, Super-Brain. Well, not quite, because she was off duty and she’d actually be Plain Jane who needed to catch up with cleaning her flat. But he’d just made her feel beautiful. Cherished. And she wasn’t quite ready to let that feeling go. ‘One night.’

‘Allow me one question. You’re not involved with anyone?’

That was an easy one to answer. ‘No.’ Though she appreciated the fact that he’d asked, because she needed to know the same thing. The fact that he’d asked first made it easy for her. ‘Are you?’

‘No.’ He caught her lower lip briefly between his. ‘Then let’s go.’

She walked with him into the hotel reception; while he collected his key, she texted Sorcha. Bit of a headache, having an early night. Enjoy the rest of the ball, J xx

It wasn’t that far from the truth. She was having an early night. Just…not at home. And the headache excuse was enough to make sure that Sorcha didn’t ring the flat to see how she was and worry when there was no answer.

‘Everything all right?’ Prince Charming asked.

‘Fine.’ She smiled back at him. ‘Just texting my best friend to say I’m leaving, so she doesn’t worry that I’ve disappeared.’

‘Which means you’re all mine. Good.’

CHAPTER TWO

ED USHERED his Cinderella over to the lifts. Her face was incredibly expressive; as the doors closed behind them, he could see that she was starting to have second thoughts. And third.

She was definitely the responsible, thoughtful type, because she’d made sure that her best friend wasn’t worrying about her rather than disappearing without a word. And she was clearly wondering whether she was doing the right thing now.