Praise for Louisa George

‘How to Resist a Heartbreaker keeps you hooked from beginning to end, but make sure you have a tissue handy, for this one will break your heart only to heal it in the end.’

—HarlequinJunkie

‘A moving, uplifting and feel-good romance, this is packed with witty dialogue, intense emotion and sizzling love scenes. Louisa George once again brings an emotional and poignant story of past hurts, dealing with grief and new beginnings which will keep a reader turning pages with its captivating blend of medical drama, family dynamics and romance.’

—GoodReads on How to Resist a Heartbreaker

‘Louisa George is a bright star at Mills & Boon, and I can highly recommend this book to those who believe romance rocks the world.’

—GoodReads on How to Resist a Heartbreaker

Midwives On-Call at Christmas

Mothers, midwives and mistletoe— lives changing for ever at Christmas!

Welcome to Cambridge Royal Hospital—and to the exceptional midwives who make up its special Maternity Unit!

They deliver tiny bundles of joy on a daily basis, but Christmas really is a time for miracles—as midwives Bonnie, Hope, Jessica and Isabel are about to find out.

Amidst the drama and emotion of babies arriving at all hours of the day and night, these midwives still find time for some sizzling romance under the mistletoe!

This holiday season, don’t miss the festive, heartwarming spin-off to the dazzling Midwives On-Call continuity from Mills & Boon Medical Romance:

A Touch of Christmas Magic by Scarlet Wilson

Her Christmas Baby Bump by Robin Gianna

Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss by Tina Beckett

Her Doctor’s Christmas Proposal by Louisa George

All available now!

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up Sean and Isabel’s story.

I love being part of the Midwives-On Call at Christmas continuity series. Not only am I creating a world along with fabulous authors, but we get to meet characters over and over and come to know and love them so much more.

Isabel Delamere has a secret that involves Sean Anderson, but she knows that if he discovers it he will be out of her life for ever. She is torn between truth and lies, between the past and the present. And her feelings for Sean are complicated and bone-deep.

Small wonder, then, that when Sean turns up in her maternity unit she struggles to face him. But Sean isn’t the young teenager she fell for years ago—he’s a devastatingly handsome and accomplished doctor who wants answers to questions from decades ago.

I loved writing Isabel and Sean’s story. It takes us on a journey from Melbourne to Cambridge and to magical Paris at Christmas time, and it gives them both a chance to rediscover love. But do they take it? You’ll have to read it and see!

I really hope you enjoy reading this book. If you want to catch up with all my book news visit me at louisageorge.com. Better still, sign up for my newsletter while you’re there, so you get to hear about the contests and giveaways I have too.

Happy reading!

Louisa x

Having tried a variety of careers in retail, marketing and nursing, LOUISA GEORGE is thrilled that her dream job of writing for Harlequin Mills and Boon means she now gets to go to work in her pyjamas. Louisa lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two sons and two male cats. When not writing or reading Louisa loves to spend time with her family, enjoys traveling, and adores eating great food.

Her Doctor’s Christmas Proposal
Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Louisa George

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘ODDS ON IT’LL be the Pattersons. She was telling me the other day that she missed out on winning it a couple of years ago, so she’s going to cross her legs until the twenty-fifth. No hot curries, or hot baths and definitely no hot sex for her.’

You and me both, girlfriend. Obstetrician Isabel Delamere tried to remember the last time she’d had anything like hot sex and came up with a blank. It was all by design, of course … working in a maternity unit was enough reminder of what hot sex could lead to—that and her own experiences. But every now and then she wondered … what the hell was she missing out on?

Plus, how could she possibly be lonely when she spent all of her waking hours surrounded by colleagues, clients and lots and lots of wriggling, screaming, gorgeous babies?

Sighing, she wrote Patterson down on the First Baby of Christmas sweepstake form and added her five-pound note to the pot. ‘If mum has her way there’s no way that baby’s coming until Christmas Day. She’s set her heart on the hamper, and between you and me they don’t have a lot of money. I think she needs it.’

‘I admire your optimism …’ Bonnie Reid, one of Isabel’s favourite midwives—and new friend—at the Cambridge Royal Maternity Unit, added her contribution of a large box of chocolates and a bumper pack of newborn nappies to the crate of donations that threatened to overshadow the huge department Christmas tree and wooden Nativity scene. With a heavy bias on baby items, some gorgeous hand-knitted booties and shawls, and heaps of food staples, whoever won would be set up for the next year. ‘But when I saw her yesterday that baby was fully engaged and she was having pretty regular Braxton Hicks contractions, so my bet is that baby Patterson will make a show well before Christmas Day.’ Bonnie stepped back and surveyed the decorations, her lilting Scottish accent infused with wistfulness. ‘Oh, I do love Christmas.’

Me too. Isabel dug deep and found a smile. Well, in reality, she loved being with her sister at Christmas; they shared a very special bond. This last year here in the UK had been the longest they’d spent apart, and the prospect of Isla doing all the traditional celebrations without her bit deep. Especially … she sighed to herself … especially when Christmas had always been so full of memories.

Isabel slammed back the sadness and tried to immerse herself in the here and now rather than thinking of her sister back in Melbourne on the other side of the world, all ripe and ready to have her first baby. She wondered whether the Melbourne Maternity Unit was taking similar bets. Maybe Isla would win the Aussie sweepstake? Now that would give the rest of the department something to giggle about: the head midwife winning with a Christmas Day baby! ‘So, go on, then, who will it be?’

‘Who will what be?’ A deep male voice, redolent with her beloved Aussie tones. The sound of home.

The sound of heartbreak.

Isabel inhaled sharply.

Sean.

And even if the man had been mute she’d have known he was behind her simply because of the full-on reaction her body had any time he was in the vicinity. Every tiny hair stood to attention. Her heart rate escalated. Palms became sweaty. Seventeen years on and she’d managed to deal with it … when she didn’t have to face him every day. She’d almost erased him from her heart.

Almost. She’d come to the other side of the world to forget him. And she’d managed quite well for close to nine months until he’d turned up, out of the blue, and those feelings had come tumbling back. The memories … and his questions … Questions she couldn’t bear to answer.

Somewhere a phone rang. Somewhere voices, raised and harried, called to her. ‘Dr Delamere. Please. There’s been an accident …’

Oh, God. She was shaken from her reverie but her heart rate stayed too high for comfort. ‘Isla?’

‘Isla? No,’ Bonnie called over from the nurses’ station. ‘Susan Patterson. Motor vehicle accident. They’re bringing her in to ER. Heavy vaginal bleeding. Mum shocked. Foetal distress. ETA five minutes.’

‘What? No! We were just talking about her.’ Without even looking at Sean, Isabel jumped straight into doctor mode. ‘Right, Bonnie, sounds like a possible abruption. Get Theatre on alert. I’ll meet the ambulance down in the ER.’

‘I’m coming with you.’ Sean was heading towards the door.

Only when hell freezes over. ‘No. Sean, absolutely not.’

Silence.

She realised that all the eyes of the staff were on her. No one knew about their history, and for as long as there was breath in her body no one was going to. ‘I mean … thank you very much for your offer, Dr Anderson, but I’ll be fine.’

He shrugged, following her into the corridor, into more quiet. ‘I’m in a lull here. Everyone’s discharged or doing well, I don’t have a clinic until two o’clock. Are you really saying you couldn’t use an extra pair of hands? I have done this before, you know.’

‘Yes, I know.’ She also knew what a talented and empathetic obstetrician he was, she just didn’t relish the prospect of spending any time with him. But she had to give this mum everything she had and an extra pair of confident hands would definitely help. ‘Okay. But this is my case, my theatre, my rules.’

‘Of course. If I remember rightly, it was always your rules, Isabel. Right down to the bitter end. In fact, I don’t remember having any say in that at all.’ He gave a wry lift of his eyebrow as they hurried towards the emergency room. ‘This one time I’ll abide by them. But once we’re out of there then …’

She stopped short. ‘Then, what?’

‘Then I change the rules to suit me.’

She shrugged, hoping upon hope that he couldn’t see through her recalcitrant façade to the shaking, smitten teenager she still felt like when she was around him. ‘Do what you want. It won’t affect me. At all.’ Liar. It seemed as if everything he did affected her. Just being here. Breathing. In Cambridge. Goddamn him.

Isabel threw him a look that she hoped told him where exactly to shove his rules, and strode straight in to Resus. She would deal with Sean Anderson … later … never, if she had her way. ‘Now, Susan? Crikey, love, what on earth has been happening?’ She took hold of her patient’s hand.

Mrs Patterson was lying on a trolley, tears streaming down her cheeks. Pale. Terrified. Her voice was barely audible through the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. ‘Thank God you’re here, Isabel. I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose this baby. Please. Do something.’

‘I will. I just need some details then we’ll make some decisions. And we’ll be quick, I promise.’ She’d have to be. If it was a placental abruption, as she suspected, both mum and bub were at serious risk. Outcomes weren’t always positive. And well she knew. Too well. Isabel examined Susan’s belly for the baby’s position and well-being. Then she tightened an electro foetal monitor belt over the baby bump. ‘Has anyone called Tony?’

‘I did.’ Jenny, the paramedic, filled her in on further details. ‘He’s on his way. Grandma’s looking after the toddler. They were in the car at the time of impact. Hit from behind. Susan felt a tight pull in her belly. Possibly from an ill-fitting seat belt, but there’s no visible marking or bruising on the abdomen. I have normal saline through a wide-bore IV in situ. Moderate vaginal bleeding. Blood pressure ninety over fifty and dropping. Baby’s heart rate jittery and at times …’ She pointed to her notes and let Isabel read. The baby’s heart rate was dipping, a sign of foetal distress. Mum was clearly shocked. Judging by the blood staining her clothes the baby needed to be out. Now.

‘Okay. Thanks.’ Isabel turned to the ER nurse that had appeared. ‘I need you to cross-match four units of packed cells. I need clotting times, usual bloods and that portable ultrasound over here as quick as you can.’

Susan’s hand squeezed in Isabel’s. ‘But I wanted … I wanted to hang on … two more weeks. …’

‘I know, but these things happen and we just have to deal with them as best we can.’ Isabel gave Susan a quick smile, positioned the ultrasound machine in front of her, squeezed jelly onto the probe and placed it over Susan’s tummy. ‘I’m just going to take a quick look.’ Baby was okay—distressed, but alive. Isabel exhaled deeply. Thank God.

She looked over at Sean and saw his reassuring smile. She gave him a small one back. They both knew that at least some of the immediate anxiety was over.

But the placenta was, indeed, partially separated. The baby was at serious risk and mum’s blood loss was not stopping. Despite the desperate urgency Isabel needed to be calm so as not to frighten mum too much. ‘Okay, Susan, we do have a problem here, but—’

‘Oh, my God. I knew it …’

‘Sweetheart, we’ll do our best. It’ll be okay.’ Isabel prayed silently that it would. ‘Your placenta is failing, I think the car impact may have given it a nasty jolt or tear and there’s a real risk to the baby if we don’t do something soon. As you know the placenta is what keeps baby alive, so we have to take you to the operating theatre and do a Caesarean section. I need your consent—’

‘Where’s Susan? Susan? Where’s Susan?’ A burly-looking stocky man covered in dust pushed his way in, steel-capped boots leaving grubby imprints across the floor. ‘What the hell’s happening?’

Isabel scanned the room for Sean. But he was there already, his hand on Tony’s forearm, gently slowing him down. ‘Are you Tony? Here, let me bring you over. It’s a lot to take in, I know, mate. There’s a few tubes and lines and she looks a little pale. But she’s good.’

‘She is not good. Look at her.’ The room filled with the smell of beer and a voice that was rough round the edges, and getting louder. ‘Is that …? Is that blood? What’s happened? What about my boy? The baby! Susan! Are you all right?’ Then his tone turned darker, he shoved out of Sean’s grip and marched up to Isabel. In her face. Angry and foul-mouthed. ‘You. Do something. Why are you just standing there? Do something, damn it.’

Isabel’s hand began to shake. But she would not let him intimidate her. ‘I’m doing the best I can. We all are. Now, please—’

‘No need for that, mate. Come away.’ Sean’s voice was calm but firm. At six foot one he was by far the bigger man. Broader too. And while Tony was rough and menacing, Sean was authoritative. There was no aggression, but a quietly commanded respect and attention. ‘We’re going to take her to Theatre right now, but first we need to know what we’re dealing with. Yes? Have a few words with Susan, but then we need to get moving. I’ll show you where you can wait.’

‘Get your hands off me.’ Tony pushed his way to the trolley. ‘Susie.’

‘I’ll be fine, Tony. Just do as he says.’ Susan started to shake. ‘I love you.’

‘If they don’t—’

Sean stepped forward. ‘As I said. Come with me. Now. Let’s have a quiet word. Outside.’ He bustled Tony out of the room.

‘He’s not a bad man.’ Isabel’s patient’s voice was fading. Alarms began to blare.

‘I know, I know, he’s scared, is all.’ Thank God Sean was able to contain him because the last thing Isabel needed was a drunk father getting in the way of saving a mother and baby. ‘Now we need to get you sorted, quickly.’ Isabel nodded to the porter. ‘Let’s go.’

She all but ran to the OR, scrubbed up and was in the operating theatre in record time. Sean, somehow, was there before her. ‘So we have a crash C-section scenario. Your call, Izzy. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.’

‘Thank you.’ And she meant it. Well drilled in dealing with emergencies, she felt competent and confident, but having someone there she knew she could rely on gave her a lift. Even if that lift involved her heart as well as her head.

Within minutes she’d tugged out a live baby boy. Floppy. Apgar of six. But, with oxygen and a little rub, the Apgar score increased to ten. As occurred with every delivery Isabel felt a familiar sting of sadness, and hope. But she didn’t have time for any kind of sentimentality. One life saved wouldn’t be enough for her. Placental abruption was harrowing and scary for the mother but it was high risk too. That amount of blood loss, coupled with the potential for complications, meant they were perilously close to losing her.

‘Blood pressure’s dropping …’ The anaesthetist gave them a warning frown.

‘Hang on in there … I just need to find the tear.’ Isabel breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the placenta and started to remove it. ‘Attagirl.’

Within an hour they’d managed to save Susan’s life too, although she had hung close to the edge. Too close.

And now … well, now that dad was with baby, her patient was in recovery and the rest of the staff had scarpered, Isabel was alone. Alone, that was, with the one person she never wanted to be alone with again. Rather than look at him she stared at the words she was writing. ‘Well, Sean, I don’t want to keep you while I finish writing up these notes. Thanks, you were a great help. Things could have turned nasty with Tony.’

‘He just needed me to explain a few things. Like how to behave in an emergency department. But I get it. The bloke was worried. I would have been too if I was losing my wife and my baby.’

Guilt crawled down her spine. How would he have been? At seventeen? Quick-mouthed and aggressive? Or the self-assured, confident man he was now? She stole a quick glance in his direction. ‘You wouldn’t have acted like that. So thanks for dealing with him. And for your help in here.’

‘It wasn’t just me. We almost lost them both, but your quick thinking and nifty work saved both their lives. Well done.’ He threw his face mask into the bin, snapped his gloves off and faced her. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘Gee, thanks. I’m fine.’ She didn’t feel fine. Her legs were like jelly and her stupid heart was still pounding with its fight-or-flight response. She looked away from the notes and towards the door. Flight. Good idea. Easier to write them up in the safety of her office, which was a Sean-free zone. Snapping the folder closed, she looked up at him. ‘Actually, I’ve got to go.’

‘Wait, please.’

She stepped towards the door and tried hard to look natural instead of panicked. ‘No. I have a million things to do.’

‘They can wait.’ His tone was urgent, determined. He was striding towards the exit now too.

‘No. They can’t.’

‘Isabel. Stop avoiding me, goddamn it!’

He was going to ask.

He was going to ask and she was going to lie. Because lying had been the only way to forge enough distance between her and the one thing she had promised herself she could never do again: feel something.

She calculated that it would take precisely five seconds to get out of the chilly delivery room and away from his piercing blue-eyed gaze. For the last two months she’d managed to steer clear from any direct one-to-ones with him, shielding herself with colleagues or friends. But now, the things unsaid between them for almost seventeen years weighed heavily in the silence.

He was going to ask and she was going to lie. Again.

The lies were exhausting. Running was exhausting. Just as getting over Sean and that traumatic time had been. She didn’t want to have to face that again. Face him again.

His scent filled the room. Sunshine. Spice. His heat, so familiar and yet not so.

Seventeen years.

God, how he’d matured into the sophisticated, beautiful man he was destined to be. But wanting answers to questions that would break her heart all over again … and his.

She made direct eye contact with the door handle and started to move towards it again.

‘Izzy?’

She would not turn round. Would. Not. ‘Don’t call me that here. It’s Isabel or Dr Delamere.’

‘Hello? It’s not as if anyone can hear. There’s only you and me in here. It’s so empty there’s an echo.’

‘I can hear.’ And I don’t want to be reminded. Although she was, every day. Every single day. Every mother, every baby. Every birth. Every stillborn. Every death.

She made it to the door. The handle was cold and smooth. Sculpted steel, just like the way she’d fashioned her heart and her backbone. Beyond the clouded glass she could make out a bustling corridor of co-workers and clients. Safety. She squeezed the handle downwards and a whoosh of air breathed over her. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Anderson, I have a ward round to get to. I’m already late. Like I said, thanks for your help back there.’

‘Any time. You know that.’ His hand covered hers and a shot of electricity jolted through her. He was warm. And solid. And here; of all the maternity units he could have chosen … This time it wasn’t a coincidence. His voice was thick and deep and reached into her soul. ‘I just want one minute, Isabel. That’s all. One.’

One minute. One lifetime. It would never be enough to bridge that time gap. Certainly not if she ever told him the answer to his question.

‘No, Sean, please don’t ask me again.’ She jabbed her foot into the doorway and pulled the door further open.

Then she made fatal error number one. She turned her head and looked up at him.

His chestnut hair was tousled from removing his surgical cap, sticking up in parts, flattened in others. Someone needed to sink their fingers in and fluff it. So not her job. Not when she was too busy trying not to look at those searching eyes. That sculptured jawline. The mouth that had given her so much pleasure almost a year ago, with one stupid, ill-thought-out stolen kiss, and … a lifetime ago. A boy turned into a man. A girl become a woman, although in truth that had happened in one night all those years ago.

Onwards went her gaze, re-familiarising herself with lines and grooves, and learning new ones. Wide solid shoulders, the only tanned guy in a fifty-mile radius, God bless the sparse Aussie ozone layer. Toned arms that clearly did more working out than lifting three-kilogram newborns.

His voice was close to her ear. ‘Izzy, if it was over between us … If everything was completely finished, why the hell did you kiss me?’

Good question. Damn good question. She’d been brooding over the answer to that particular issue for the better part of the last year, ever since he’d crushed her against him in a delivery suite very similar to this one, but half a world away. It had been a feral response to a need she hadn’t ever known before. A shock, seeing him again after so long, turning up at the Melbourne hospital where she’d worked. He’d been as surprised as she had, she was sure.

Then he’d kissed her. A snatched frenzied embrace that had told her his feelings for her had been rekindled after such a long time apart. And, oh, how she’d responded. Because, in all honesty, her feelings for him had never really waned.

Heat prickled through her at the mere memory. Heat and guilt. But they had to put it behind them and move forward. ‘Really, Sean? Do you chase most of the women you kiss across the world? It must cost an awful lot in airfares. Still, I guess you must do well on the loyalty schemes. What do you have now, elite platinum status? Does that entitle you to fly the damn planes as well?’

His smile was slow to come, but when it did it was devastating. ‘Most women aren’t Isabel Delamere. And none of them kiss like you do.’

‘I’m busy.’

‘You’re avoiding the issue.’

She held his too blue, too intense gaze. She could do this. Distract him with other issues, deflect the real one. Get him off her back once and for all. She was going away tomorrow for a few days. Hopefully everything would have blown over by the time she got back. Like hell it would. She could pretend that it had. She just needed some space from him. ‘So let me get this straight. You turn up out of the blue at the same place I’m working in Melbourne—’

‘Pure coincidence. I was as shocked as you. Pleasantly, though. Unlike your reaction.’ The pressure of his thumb against the back of her hand increased a little, like a stroke, a caress.

She did not want him to caress her.

Actually she did. But that would have been fatal error number two. ‘Then after I leave there you turn up here. Also out of the blue? I don’t think so.’

‘Aww, you missed a whole lot out. … where I didn’t see you or have any contact with you for many, many years. As far as I was concerned you were the one that got away. But also the one I got over.’ At her glare he shrugged shoulders that were broader, stronger than she remembered. ‘I put you out of my mind and did exactly what I had planned to do with my life and became a damned fine obstetrician. Then one day I turn up at my cushy new locum job at Melbourne Maternity Unit and bump into my old … flame. I never dreamt for a minute you’d be there after hearing you’d studied medicine in Sydney. I assumed you’d moved on. Like I had. But then, Delamere blood runs thick with the Yarra so I should have realized you’d be there in the bosom of your … delightful family.’ He gave a sarcastic smile. Sean had never got on with her hugely successful neurosurgeon daddy and socialite mother who ran with the It crowd in Melbourne. ‘Well, in that sumptuous penthouse apartment anyway. Cut to the chase—the first chance you get: wham, bam. You kiss me.’

‘What?’ She dragged her hand from under his and jabbed a finger at him. ‘You kissed me first. It took me by surprise—it didn’t mean anything.’

‘No one kisses like that and doesn’t mean it.’

He’d pulled her to him and she’d felt the hard outline of his body, had a crazy melting of her mind and she’d wanted to kiss him right back. Hard. Hot. And it had been the most stupid thing she’d done in a long time. Not least because it had reignited an ache she’d purged from her system. She’d purged him from her system. ‘And now you’re here to what? Taunt me? Tell me, Sean, why are you here?’

‘Ask your sister.’

‘Isla? Why? And how can I?’ There was no way Isla would ever have told Sean what had happened. She’d promised to keep that secret for ever and Isabel trusted her implicitly. Even though over the years she had caught Isla looking at her with a sad, pitiful expression. And sure, Isabel knew she’d been badly scarred by her experiences, they both had, but she was over it. She was. She’d moved on. ‘Isla is back home in Australia and I’m here. I’m hardly going to phone a heavily pregnant woman in the middle of the night just to ask why an old boyfriend is in town, am I? What did she say?’

‘It was more what she didn’t say that set alarm bells ringing. I asked her outright why you had suddenly gone so cold on our relationship, she said she couldn’t tell me but that I should ask you myself. Between her garbled answers and your sizzling kiss, I’m guessing that there’s a lot more to this than you’re letting on. Something important. Something so big that you’re both running scared. My brain’s working overtime and I’m baffled. So tell me the truth, Isabel. Tell me the truth, then I’ll go. I’ll leave. Out of your life.’

Which would be a blessing and a curse. She was so conflicted she didn’t know if she never wanted to set eyes on him again or … wake up every morning in his arms. But if he ever found out why they’d split up option two would never, ever happen. He’d make sure of it. ‘It doesn’t matter any more, Sean. It was such a long time ago.’

‘It matters to me. It clearly still matters to Isla, so I’m sure it matters to you.’ He leaned closer and her senses slammed into overdrive. Memories, dark, painful memories, rampaged through her brain. Her body felt as if it were reliving the whole tragedy again. Her heart rate jittered into a stupid over-compensatory tachycardia, and she squeezed the door handle.

It was all too much.

In her scrubs pocket her phone vibrated and chimed ‘Charge of The Light Brigade’. She grabbed it, grateful of the reprieve. The labour ward. ‘Look, seriously, I’ve got to run.’

‘Doing what you do best.’ He flicked his thumb up the corridor, his voice raised. ‘Go on, Izzy. Go ahead and run. But remember this—you walked away with no explanation, you just cut me adrift. Whatever happened back then wasn’t just about you. And while I’ve thought about it over the years it’s hardly kept me awake at night, until Isla hinted at some momentous mystery that she’s sworn not to talk about, and if it involves me then I deserve to know why.’

Isabel glanced at the phone display, then up the corridor, where she saw a few heads popping out from rooms, then darting back in again.

She looked back at Sean. She thought about the dads in the delivery suites, so proud, so emotional, so raw. How they wept when holding their newborns. She thought about Tony, who’d have fought tooth and nail for his son, even if it had riled every member of hospital staff. She thought about the babies born sleeping and the need for both parents to know so much, to be involved. They cared. They loved. They broke. They grieved. Both of them, not just the mums.

So damn right Sean deserved to know. She’d hidden this information for so long, and yet he had every right to know what had happened. And once he knew then surely he’d leave? If not because it was so desperately sad, but because she had kept this from him. He’d hate her.

But the relief would be final. She’d be free from the guilt of not telling him. Just never, never of the hurt.

She opened her mouth to say the words, but her courage failed. ‘Please, just forget it. Put it behind you. Forget I ever existed. Forget it all.’

‘Really? When I see you every day? Forget this?’ He stepped closer, pinning her against the doorway, and for a moment she thought—hoped—he was going to kiss her again. His mouth was so close, his scent overpowering her. And the old feelings, the want, the desire came tumbling back. They had never had problems with the attraction; it had been all-consuming, feral, intense even then. It was the truth that she’d struggled with. Laying bare how she felt, because she was a Delamere girl after all, and she wasn’t allowed to show her emotions. Ever. She had standards, expectations to fulfil. And dating Sean Anderson hadn’t been one of them. Certainly carrying his child never was.

His breath whispered over the nape of her neck. Hot. Hungry. Sending shivers of need spiralling down her back. He was so close. Too close. Not close enough. ‘What’s the matter, Izzy? Having trouble forgetting that I exist?’

And what was the use in wanting him now? One whiff of the truth and he’d be gone.

But, it was time to tell him anyway.

‘Okay. Okay.’ She shoved him back, gave herself some air. She made sure she had full eye contact with him, looked into those ocean-blue eyes. She was struggling with her own emotions, trying to keep her voice steady and level, but failing; she could hear it rise. ‘We had to finish, Sean. I didn’t know what to do. I was sixteen and frightened and I panicked. I had to cut you out of my life once and for all. A clean break for my own sanity if not for anything else.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I was pregnant.’

He staggered back a step. Two. ‘What?’

‘Yes, Sean. With your baby.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT?’ THIS WASN’T what he’d expected at all. Truthfully, he’d thought she’d been embarrassed about being seen with him. A lad from the wrong side of the Delamere social circle with two very ordinary and dull parents of no use to the Delamere clan. Or perhaps a bit of angsty teenage intrigue. Or possibly some pubertal mental health issues. But this …?

He was a … father?

Sean’s first instinct was to walk and keep on walking. But he fixed his feet to the floor, because he had to hear this. All of it. ‘Pregnant? My baby? So where is it? What happened?’ Two possibilities ran through his head: one, he had a child somewhere that he had never seen. And for that he could never forgive her.

Or two, she’d had an abortion without talking it through with him. His child. Neither option was palatable.

She followed him back in to the OR and looked up at him, her startling dark green eyes glittering with tears that she righteously blinked away. With her long blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail she looked younger than her thirty-three years. Not the sweet delicate creature she’d been at school, but she was so much more, somehow. More beautiful. More real. Just … more. That came with confidence, he supposed, a successful career, Daddy’s backing, everyone doing Miss Delamere’s bidding her whole life.

But her cheeks seemed to hollow out as she spoke. ‘I lost it. The baby.’

‘Oh, God. I’m sorry.’ He was an obstetrician, for God’s sake, he knew it happened. But to her? To him? His gut twisted into a tight knot; so not everything had gone Isabel’s way after all.

She gave a slight nod of her head. Sadness rolled off her. ‘I had a miscarriage at eighteen weeks—’

‘Eighteen weeks? You were pregnant for over four months and didn’t tell me? Why the hell not?’

So this was why she’d become so withdrawn over those last few weeks together, refusing intimacy, finding excuses, being unavailable. This was why she’d eventually cut him off with no explanation.

She started to pace around the room, Susan’s notes still tight in her fist. ‘I didn’t know I was pregnant, not for sure. Oh, of course I suspected I was, I just hadn’t done a test—I was too scared even to pee on a stick and see my life change irrevocably in front of my eyes. I was sixteen. I didn’t want to face reality. I … well, I suppose I’d hoped that the problem would go away. I thought, hoped, that my missing periods were just irregular cycles, or due to stress, exams, trying to live up to Daddy’s expectations. Being continually on show. Having to snatch moments with you. So I didn’t want to believe—couldn’t believe … a baby? I was too young to deal with that. We both were.’

He made sure to stand stock-still, his eyes following her round the room. ‘You didn’t think to mention it? We thought you’d be safe—God knows … the naivety. You were pregnant for eighteen weeks? I don’t understand … I thought we talked about everything.’ Clearly he’d been mistaken. Back then he’d thought she was the love of his life. He’d held a candle up to her for the next five years. No woman had come close to the rose-tinted memory he’d had of how things had been between them. Clearly he’d been wrong. Very wrong. ‘You should have talked to me. Maybe I could have helped. I could have … I don’t know … maybe I could have saved it.’ Even as he said the words he knew he couldn’t have done a thing. Eighteen weeks was far too young, too fragile, too underdeveloped, even now, all these years later and with all the new technology, eighteen weeks was still too little.

The light in her eyes had dimmed. It had been hard on her, he thought. A burden, living with the memory. ‘I spent many years thinking the same thing, berating myself for maybe doing something wrong. I pored over books, looked at research, but no one could have saved him, Sean. He was too premature. You, of all people, know how it is. We see it. In our jobs.’

‘He?’ His gut lurched. ‘I had a son?’

She finally stopped pacing, wrapped her arms around her thin frame, like a hug. Like a barrier. But her gaze clashed with his. ‘Yes. A son. He was beautiful, Sean. Perfect. So tiny. Isla said—’

‘So Isla was there?’ Her sister was allowed to be there, but he wasn’t?

‘Yes. It all happened so fast. I was in my bathroom at my parents’ house and suddenly there was so much blood, and I must have screamed. Then Isla was there, she delivered him …’ Her head shook at the memory. ‘God love her, at twelve years of age she delivered my child onto our bathroom floor, got help and made sure I was okay. No wonder she ended up being a midwife—it’s what she was born to do.’

He wasn’t sure he wanted any more details. He had enough to get his head around, but he couldn’t help asking the questions. ‘So who else helped you? There must have been someone else? An adult? Surely?’

‘Evie, our housekeeper.’

‘The one who turned me away when I came round that time? Not your parents?’ He could see from Isabel’s closed-off reaction that she hadn’t involved them, just as she hadn’t involved him. He didn’t know whether that made him feel any better or just … just lost. Cut off from her life. After everything he’d believed, he really hadn’t known her at all. ‘They still don’t know? Even now?’

‘No. Evie took me to a hospital across town and they sorted me out. Because I was sixteen the doctors didn’t have to tell my parents. I never did. They were away at the time, they wouldn’t have understood. It would have distressed them. The scandal—’

‘Of course. We always have to be careful about what our Melbourne royalty think.’ He didn’t care a jot about them now and he hadn’t back then. They’d cosseted their daughters and he’d struggled to get much time alone with her despite his best efforts; over-protective, she’d called them. Of course, he knew better now. But even so, Isabel had been nothing more than a pawn in their celebrity status paraded at every available opportunity, the golden girl. The darling Delamere daughter who couldn’t do any wrong.

No … that wasn’t what he’d believed at the time, only the intervening years had made him rethink his young and foolish impression of her. When they were together he’d come to love a deep, sensitive girl, not a materialistic, shallow Delamere. But then she’d cut him off and he’d been gutted to find out she was the same as her parents after all. But this news … and to keep it to herself all that time. Who the hell was she? ‘And that’s why you broke off our relationship? That’s why you sent my ring back to me? No explanation.’

She fiddled with her left ring finger as if that ring were still there. ‘I didn’t know what else to do, to be honest, I was stressed out, grieving. I’d lost my baby. It felt like a punishment, you see. I hadn’t wanted him, but then, when I lost him I wanted him so badly. And seeing you, telling you, would have brought back all that pain. I wasn’t strong enough to relive it again.’ She’d walked towards him, her hand now on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Sean. I should have told you.’

‘Yes, you should have.’ He shook his arm free from her touch. He couldn’t bear to feel her, to smell her intoxicating scent. To see those beautiful, sad eyes. And to know that she’d let him live all those years without telling him the truth.

He forced himself to look at her. To imagine what must have been going through her head at that time. The fear, the pain, the confusion. The grief. It must have been so terrifying for a young girl. But still he couldn’t fathom why all of that had been a reason to shut herself off from him. To keep all this from him.

She looked right back at him, not a young girl any longer. She was a beautiful, successful woman with tears swimming in her eyes—tears that did not fall. She wiped them away. It was the first time he’d seen any emotion from her in the months that he’d been here. Now, and when she’d kissed him back in Melbourne. There had been a few emotions skittering across her face back then: fear mainly, and a raw need. ‘Please, Sean. Please say something.’

He didn’t know what to say. How to feel. Right now, he was just angry. Empty. No … just angry. It was as if a huge chunk of his past had been a lie. He should have known about this. He should have been allowed to know this. ‘I’ve spent all these years wondering what turned you from being such a happy, loving girlfriend to a cold and distant one literally overnight. I thought it was something I’d done and I went over and over everything until I was lost. Or that you’d had a nervous breakdown. Or that I wasn’t good enough for you. I tried to see you but had the door closed in my face so many times I gave up. You refused to answer my calls. I tried hard to understand what was happening. In the end I just presumed your parents had somehow found out and banned you from seeing me.’

‘They wouldn’t have done that.’

‘Wouldn’t they? You weren’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of telling them we were an item. Let’s keep it a secret, you said. Our secret love. It seems you had a lot of secrets back then, Isabel.’

She flinched, so she must have remembered saying words he’d believed at the time were heartfelt. ‘I didn’t want to cause you any pain. There wasn’t anything you could do. I thought it would be for the best, for both of us. Just put it all behind us.’

‘I could have grieved, Isabel, I could have helped you with that.’ He held her gaze. ‘So was it? For the best?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Not for me, anyway.’

‘And not for me, either. I’m sorry, Isabel. I’m sorry you had to go through that, I know how hard it must have been. But …’ And it was a hell of a big but … what was he supposed to do now? Why hadn’t she told him? Even though she’d lost their baby, did that mean she’d had to throw their love aside too? He couldn’t think straight. Just looking at her brought back hurt, and more, stacked alongside the fact that he’d been a dad. He’d had a son. And he hadn’t even known.

Words failed him. ‘I can’t imagine your state of mind, you’re right. But one thing is for sure. If I’d known something like that that deeply involved someone else, someone I’d professed to care about—to love, even—I’d have mentioned it.’

She hung her head. ‘It was a long time ago. We have to move on, Sean.’

‘Easy for you to say, Isabel.’ He was loud now, he knew his anger was spilling into his voice, his face, but he didn’t much care. ‘You’ve had many years to get over this. It’s in your past. But this, this is my present right now. So you’ll excuse me if I take a little time to come to terms with it all. I had a son? Wow. It would have been nice to know that.’

‘Oh, yes? Well, it was horrible. I was distraught, traumatised. I was a young girl, for God’s sake.’ Her voice was shaky now, like her hands. ‘You know what makes it all so much worse? You. Seeing you brings it all back, and I don’t want to think about it any more. It hurts. Okay? It hurts, so I wish you’d never found me.’

You have no idea what she’s been through, Isla had said when she’d encouraged him to come all this way to confront Isabel. Don’t hurt her. No? He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to make her relive that pain.

But he didn’t want to be with her either. Right now he didn’t even want to breathe the same air as her. Not after this.

A difficult silence wrapped around them like the foggy December day outside.

Her hand covered his. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sean. I’m sorry for leaving you to wonder all those years.’

‘Yeah. Well, so you should be. Keep out of my way, Isabel. I mean it. Keep out of my way.’ And without so much as looking at her again he stalked out of the room.

‘You’ve had a major operation and a big shock to your body. Three units of blood. That’s an awful lot to get over.’ Isabel gave Susan Patterson what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Twenty-four hours post-op many patients felt as if they’d been hit by a truck. But because they always, always put their babies first they tried to recover far too quickly. ‘The good news is, you’re making an excellent recovery. Your blood pressure is stable and your blood results are fine. We’re going to move you from High Dependency back to the ward so you can be in with the other mums, and we’ll bring baby up to be with you. He’s ready to leave SCBU now. Between you both you’ve kept us on our toes, but things are definitely on the way up. He’s a little fighter, that one.’

‘He’s got a good set of lungs, I’ll give him that.’ Susan gave a weak smile back. Kicking back the covers, she tried to climb out of bed. But when her feet hit the floor she grabbed onto the bed table for stability. She was still a little pale, and Isabel made a note to keep an eye on that. It wasn’t just haemoglobin she needed to watch, it was Susan’s desire to do too much too soon.

‘Hey, there’s no hurry. Rest easy. I’ll ask a nurse to come help you have a shower. That scar’s in a tricky place, so you need to support it when you move. And remember, Caesareans do take longer to recover from, so don’t expect too much from yourself.’ Glancing at the chart, she realised Susan’s baby was still listed as Baby Patterson. ‘Have you thought of a name for that gorgeous wee boy yet?’

Doing as she was told, Susan sat down on the side of the bed; a little more colour crept into her cheeks. ‘We had thought about something Christmassy like Joseph or Noel, but as he was early we had to change all that. If he’d been a girl I’d have called him Isabel.’ Her cheeks pinked more. ‘After you, because you did such a great job of saving us both. But instead we thought we’d choose Isaac. It has the Is in it—and that’ll remind us of you. I guess you get that all the time?’

Isabel felt her smile blossom from the inside. ‘Actually, not very often at all. It’s very nice of you. Thank you. I’m honoured.’

‘Oh, and Sean as a middle name. After Dr Anderson.’

Sean. Of course. Why not? She forced the smile to stay in place. ‘Oh. Lovely. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.’

And she’d got through ten whole minutes without thinking about him, just to be reminded all over again.

Last night had been filled with internal recriminations that had intensified in direct proportion to her wine consumption. From: she should have told him years ago, to … she was glad she’d kept that pain from him, to … how dared he be so angry? She’d been the one going through the miscarriage. She could choose who she disclosed that information to.

But the way he’d looked at her had hurt the most. He’d shut down. Shut her out. The light and the vibrancy that she’d always seen in him had been extinguished. He hadn’t even been able to look at her. And that had been her fault.

And now … now that she thought about it, she realised that he had a very disturbing effect on her. Even after all the intervening years she still found just looking at him made her mouth water, made her heart ache for more. Thinking about that kiss made her …

‘Isabel? Dr Delamere?’

‘Oh, sorry. I was miles away.’ Now she couldn’t even focus on her job properly. First and last time she’d let that happen. It was Maggie, one of the ward clerks. ‘I have a message from Jacob. He wants to see you in his office, as soon as you can.’

‘Oh, fine, thank you.’ Isabel turned to excuse herself from her patient. ‘I’m sorry, Susan, but Jacob’s the boss around here, so I’d better get going. I’m off to Paris tomorrow for a conference with him. But I’m so glad we managed to get you on the road to recovery before I go.’

‘Paris? Lucky you.’ The new mum looked almost wistful.

‘No. You have a husband and a lovely family. I’d say you are the luckier woman right now.’ Isabel tried to put all thoughts of Sean out of her mind. Once upon a faraway innocent time she’d dreamt of having what Susan had: a husband and family. But the thought of risking her heart again left her more than cold. Terrified, in fact. She just knew she couldn’t survive that kind of loss again.

So seven days away from Sean would be the perfect antidote. She could lose herself in the bright lights and the Christmas markets and the lovely amazingness that she’d heard Paris was—oh, yes, and she had work to do, at least, for the first few days. ‘I’ll pop in this evening, Susan, to make sure you’re okay before I head off. In the meantime, be good and rest up.’

Thinking about which boots to take with her to Paris … and deciding, oh, what the hell, she’d take all three pairs … she sauntered along the corridor to Jacob Layton’s office. She was just about to tap under the Head Obstetrician sign on his door when she heard voices. Two men. Not happy.

What should she do? Knock and enter? Wait?

Ah, whatever, she’d been summoned, so she knocked.

‘Isabel.’ Jacob opened the door with a frown. He seemed flustered. Not his more recent relaxed self, but more a throwback to the days when he used to have the nurses quaking in their boots. Maybe things hadn’t been going so smoothly with him and Bonnie. But they seemed fine, beyond happy even. Or … worst-case scenario, maybe he was sick again? The man had a habit of keeping too much to himself and not allowing others to share the load.

‘Hi, Jacob.’ Instinctively she put her hand out to his arm. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. Fine.’ He stepped back from her hand, looking a little alarmed. No, embarrassed.

‘Are you sure? You look—’

‘I’m absolutely fine. In all respects.’ Not one to expand on anything personal, he gestured her to come into the office. ‘But I need to talk to you … both.’ He nodded towards Sean, who was standing at the far side of the office, looking out of the window, hands thrust into his trouser pockets. Everything about Sean’s manner screamed irritation. Anger.

He turned. ‘Isabel.’

‘Sean.’ So they were down to monosyllables. Okay, she could live with that for the next five minutes. But, dang it, her heart had another idea altogether and tripped along merrily at the sight of him standing here in a dark-collared shirt and asset-enhancing charcoal trousers, all grumpy and angry and so very, very gorgeous. Why did he have to look so damned delicious?

He always looked delicious to her, she realised, with a sudden pang in her tummy. Even when he was angry. But that wasn’t important, couldn’t be important.

‘Look. You’re not going to like what I’m going to say. So …’ Jacob beckoned them both to sit down ‘… I’m just going to cut to the chase, here.’

‘Why? What’s the problem?’ Something inside Isabel’s gut tumbled and tumbled. She looked from Jacob to Sean and back again.

Sean shrugged. ‘We are. Apparently.’

Jacob shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to say, I need to talk to you about an incident yesterday. An argument, between the two of you.’

Blood rushed to her cheeks. Isabel couldn’t believe it. She’d never had so much as a frown about her behaviour, never mind being involved in an ‘incident’, as if she’d been rude or unprofessional or worse. It had been a private conversation, opening her very shattered heart. ‘Someone complained about it? A patient?’

‘No, not a patient.’ Her boss looked a little red-faced. ‘This meeting is unofficial and won’t go down on your records, unless … well, let’s just say, if you can resolve this situation amicably …’

‘What situation?’ Uh-huh. Of course. Sean hadn’t been happy about what she’d told him yesterday, he felt betrayed and now he wanted to get his own back by getting her fired? Surely that was too underhanded even for him? That would be callous and bullying and very unlike the Sean she’d known. But she didn’t know him now, really, did she? They’d been apart too long. He wouldn’t … would he? She turned to look at him. ‘Did you make a complaint, Sean?’

His blue eyes fired black. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.’

Jacob’s hands rose in a calming gesture. ‘No, no, it wasn’t Sean. It wasn’t a complaint. I overheard a lot of arguing yesterday in the OR. Raised voices. Personal things were said. It made for unpleasant listening—which, I might add, was unavoidable and a few other people overheard too. The staff now think they’re going to have to work in world war three, dodging bullets flying between you two.’ Jacob leaned towards Isabel. ‘I know I’ve been difficult, I know I can be a grouch, but I hope I never had cause to raise my voice or make everyone feel as if they couldn’t work with me.’

He’d been sick, poor man, and had wanted to keep that to himself. He’d told no one and borne the weight of the department’s needs along with his illness. He deserved a bloody medal. And yes, he’d been grumpy too, but things had changed—in his love life, mainly—and he was a lot happier now. And well again. The atmosphere in the department had become much more relaxed, until …

‘So are you saying that people don’t want to work with me? That it will be awkward?’ Because of Sean? This was ridiculous. Never, ever, had her private life interfered with her work. Never. She was a professional. Her work was her life and she would not let anything get in the way of that. Damn Sean Anderson. Damn him for making her life hell all over again.

‘No,’ Jacob continued. ‘I’m saying that I can’t have my top obstetricians in such discord. You need to be able to assist each other, to work together at times. I want a harmonious atmosphere when I come to work. Not Armageddon. My staff deserve that, the patients certainly deserve that and so do you if you’re going to do the job well.’

Sean nodded, and his reaction was surprising. ‘Things got a little heated, I admit. It won’t happen again.’ She’d expected him to level the blame at her, but instead he wore it. He continued, ‘We will be back to situation normal as soon as we leave this room. You have my word on it.’ But Sean didn’t look at her and she knew from the tightness in his shoulders and the taut way he held his body that he was livid, and only just about managing to keep it together in front of the boss.

And he was right, of course. They had to be normal and civil with each other, for the sake of their colleagues and their jobs. Their patients deserved the utmost professional conduct, not two senior doctors fighting over something that happened years ago.

But still … she didn’t know if she could face him and be normal. Not after the way he’d looked at her. And definitely not after the kiss that still haunted her.

She needed time away from him, that was the answer. Although, she ignored the nagging voice in her head that told her that seventeen years apart from him hadn’t made a huge difference to her attraction to him. This time she’d make it work. She’d erase him from her life. She’d go to Paris and teach herself all things Zen and meditate or something, she’d learn the huffy aloofness of Parisian women, she’d become sophisticated … and she’d come back immune to his generally annoying attractiveness.

‘Yes, you’re both right. Things got out of hand and it won’t happen again. You and I are off to Paris tomorrow, Jacob, so we can all put this episode behind us. When I get back things will very definitely be back to normal.’ She felt better already.

Jacob scraped his chair back and stood, signalling the conversation was coming to an end and that he now wanted them to act on their word. ‘Actually, Isabel, I need to talk to you about Paris. Unfortunately, something’s come up and I can’t go. I’m going to have to leave you to do the presentation on your own. I’m sorry.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ Not so bad. Paris on her own would be wonderful. Perhaps she could play hooky a little and do some sightseeing? Have a makeover?

Her boss scrutinised her reaction. ‘You’ll be fine, don’t worry.’

‘I’m not worried at all. It’ll be great. But I thought you wanted to schmooze the SCBU ventilator manufacturers for some discounted prices?’

‘I’m sure you can manage that just fine.’ He started to walk them both to the door. ‘And Sean will be on hand to help.’

Isabel screeched to a halt. ‘What? Sean? What?’

Sean looked as incredulous as she did. ‘What the hell …? Absolutely not. No way.’

Jacob shook his head to silence them. ‘I need two representatives over there to handle the schmoozing requirements and networking meetings. You’re both rostered on over Christmas when we’re short-staffed, and currently we’re a little top heavy—no one tends to take leave just before Christmas, it’s a vacation dead zone. So, it makes sense to send you together. I’ll have the documentation transferred into your name by the end of today, Sean, and a synopsis of who you need to speak with and when. Who knows? A little entente cordiale might do you both some good.’ Like hell it would. ‘Really, I don’t care. I just need two reps there and a harmonious atmosphere here. Got it?’

‘No.’ Isabel’s mouth worked before her brain got into gear.

‘No?’ Jacob stared at her.

‘I mean, yes.’ No. She couldn’t go with Sean. Four nights in Paris with her ex-lover who could heat her up with one look and freeze her bones with another. She needed space from him, not to be banished to a damned conference hotel with him. ‘This is—’

Ridiculous. Painful. Harmful.

So, so stupid.

But if they couldn’t sort it out amicably it would go down on their employment records—and who knew what else, a warning? No way. She wasn’t going to let this ruin her, so yes, they needed to sort it out once and for all. But that meant she was going to be stuck with him in the famous city of love with harsh memories and increasing desires and a whole lot of tension, trying to sort out a situation that was far from normal.

‘That is, if you don’t kill each other first. Now, I’m running late for another meeting, so if you’ll excuse me.’ Jacob’s word was final. ‘Play nicely, children. I’ll see you when you get back.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHO THE HELL has a symposium just before Christmas?’ Sean lugged his duffle bag onto the train, threw it onto the overhead rack and sat down opposite Isabel.

Angry as he was with the whole situation, he couldn’t help but note that she looked as pulled together as any self-respecting Delamere girl would be. A dark furtrimmed hat sat on her head, her straight golden hair flowing over her shoulders. A smattering of mascara made her green eyes look huge and innocent, and her cheeks had pinked up from the bitter north-easterly that had whipped around them as they stood on the Eurostar platform. A red coat covered her from neck to knee. At her throat was a chain of what looked like diamonds. They weren’t fake. He knew her well enough to be sure of that. She looked like an Eastern European princess rather than a doctor.

And, despite himself and the rage still swirling round his gut, he felt a pull to wrap her in his arms and warm her up. Damn it.

She barely took her eyes away from the glossy magazine she was reading. ‘It was originally planned for September, but had to be postponed because of a norovirus outbreak at the hotel the day before it was due to start. That’s smack in the middle of conference season so all the other appropriately sized venues were already full. This was the only time they could rebook it. So we’re stuck with it.’ Now she lifted her head and glared at him. ‘Like I’m stuck with you. But I won’t let that spoil my time in Paris.’

She was angry with him? ‘Whoa. Wait a minute. Let’s backtrack a little … you’re pissed with me because of what exactly? Because I don’t remember me keeping any secrets from you for the last seventeen years.’ The train was beginning to fill. People were taking seats further down the carriage, squealing about Christmas shopping, so yes, he knew this wasn’t the time or the place.

But she answered him anyway, her voice quiet but firm. ‘Sean, I apologised for that and I cannot do anything about it. You want to keep going over and over it, feel free but it won’t change a thing.’

Her eyes clashed with his in a haughty, assertive glare. She was not going to move on this, he could see. But he could see more than that too. He could see how tired she was. How much she was hurting. How the proud stance was a show. And he felt like a jerk. She’d been through a traumatic time and had achieved so much despite it.

And how she had him feeling bad about this whole scenario he couldn’t fathom.

Dragging a book from his backpack, he settled down. It would get easier, he asserted to himself, being with her. He’d get over the swing of emotions from anger to lust. He’d get bored of looking at her. Surely? He would stop being entranced by that gentle neckline, the dip at her throat where the diamonds graced the collarbone. He’d get tired of the scent … expensive perfume, he guessed, but it was intoxicating nonetheless, sort of exotic and flowers and something else. Her …

Now, where was he …? Ah, yes … neonatal emergencies … distraction therapy.

As the train jerked to depart she closed her magazine and gazed out of the window. Luckily the seats beside them were free; they had the four-berth area to themselves. ‘I’ve never been to Paris before.’

For a minute he thought she was talking to herself, then he realised it was actually an attempt at a civil conversation. Fine, they were in a public place. He could do civil just to get through the two-and-a-half-hour journey. But that would be as far as it went. ‘It’s a great place. I went a few years ago, when I did my gap year. I travelled around Europe for a bit.’

An eyebrow rose. ‘I didn’t know you did a gap year?’

‘There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Isabel. There are years and years of my life you know nothing about, and you’ve spent the last couple of months that I’ve been here running in the opposite direction whenever I’m around too. Hardly surprising you know nothing at all.’

‘I know.’ Tugging off her coat and hat, she plumped up her hair and looked at him. ‘I’m sorry. After what I told you yesterday you’ll understand that I just couldn’t deal with you being back in my life again.’

Guilt could do that to you, he mused. ‘And now?’

She shrugged a delicate shoulder. ‘Now I don’t have a choice. Thanks to Jacob.’

‘Indeed. So let’s make a deal, shall we?’

‘Depends what it is?’

‘We’ll attend this conference as a team to represent the department. But after that, in our downtime, you don’t get in my way and I won’t get in yours.’ That should do it. No cosy dinners, no shared intimacies. He could revisit some old haunts, discover new ones. On his own. He stuck out a hand.

‘Fine by me.’ She took it, her eyes widening at the shot of something that zipped between them as their palms touched. Heat burnt her cheeks as, with equal force, it seared through him, wild and unbidden, shocking in its intensity. For a moment she locked eyes again with him; this time he saw fire there. Then she let go and wiped her palm down her trousers as if trying to erase any trace of him from her skin. ‘So, what are you going to do? In Paris? Do you have plans?’

‘Oh, we’re doing polite chit-chat? The ever-so-charming Delamere dialogue?’

All heat extinguished in a second, her glare intensified. ‘Gosh, you really do hate me and my family, don’t you?’

‘Isla’s sweet.’ He let the insult by omission sit with her for a moment. What was that line between love and hate? He knew he was straddling something of equal measure. He wanted her, and he didn’t want her. Too much either way, it was disturbing. ‘I was actually referring to the way you smooth over any difficult social encounter. How easy it is for you to glide seamlessly from one meaningless subject to the next.’

‘Then you don’t know me at all either, Sean. You think you do, but whatever misapprehensions you have about me, they’re wrong. I’m not like my mum and dad. I never was. I used to hate being paraded in front of the cameras and the elite with a begging bowl for whichever charity they favoured that month. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the causes they were fighting for, but I always felt awkward and embarrassed to be there.’

He kept his face passive. ‘I thought I knew you. I always believed you were polar opposites to your parents.’ And even though he’d consoled himself over the years that she had just resorted to Delamere type and turned her back on him, here she was challenging him. Because he’d seen her in action, the compassion and the dedication. Truth was, he didn’t know her at all now, not really. He knew what she’d once been, but the young, bright Isabel Delamere didn’t exist any more—he was learning that very quickly.

And the other unpalatable truth was that he was intrigued by her. He’d found out her secret and should have packed his bags—job done, history exposed—and put her and Cambridge behind him. But now he was in forced proximity with her and, well … she was a whole new fully realised version of the girl he’d known—a more professional, more intense, more dedicated version. It wouldn’t hurt to learn just a little bit more. For old times’ sake. ‘I guess the Delamere name would have helped your job prospects no end, though.’

They were interrupted briefly by a waiter bringing the Chablis and cheese platter Sean had ordered on boarding.

Even though they were at loggerheads she still accepted a glass of wine from him. Took a sip. Then answered, ‘Just like you I got where I am by sheer hard work. My name didn’t open any doors for me. Once out of the State of Victoria no one’s heard of Daddy—well, a few have but no one cares. He’s a neurosurgeon too, which isn’t very helpful to someone who wants a job in obstetrics.’

‘It can’t have hindered you, though.’

She shook her head. ‘Whatever you want to believe, you clearly have it all worked out. But in reality I’m just bloody good at my job. I certainly don’t have to prove myself to you; my competence is between me, and my patients. Who, I might say, have ranged from a preeclampsic mum in Kiwirrkurra, to a too-posh-to-push minor British royal and everything in between. So get off your high horse, Anderson, and give me a break.’

‘You worked in Kiwirrkurra? I didn’t know that. Impressive.’ Kiwirrkurra had to be one of the most remote areas in the country so up-to-date technology and equipment would have been lacking, not to mention the barren, dry heat that shrouded the place. Not many would have been able to cope with the workload and unpredictability of outback medicine. It was the desert, for God’s sake; somehow he just couldn’t imagine Isabel there. ‘How the hell did you keep your diamonds free from all that red dust? Must have been a nightmare.’

‘Well, I didn’t take—’ She paused … looked at him … shook her head again, eyes rolling. ‘You’re pulling my chain. Ha-bloody-ha. Well, let me tell you, it was so-o-o hard, the dust got everywhere, and I mean, everywhere. I had to polish my diamonds every night before I went to bed.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Nah.’ But there was a smile there. It glittered, lit up her face. And for the first time since he’d been in this hemisphere it felt as if there was a breakthrough between them. Tiny, compared to what they’d had years ago—or at least what he’d thought they’d had—but it was something they could hang the next week on instead of all this anger-fuelled bile. She laughed then. ‘Well, you still know how to wind me up, I’ll give you that.’

‘Too easy, mate. Too easy.’

She had some more wine. ‘Tell me about your gap year.’

How to capture the wealth of experiences in one conversation? ‘It wasn’t much different from a lot of people’s to be honest. I took the year off between university and internship. Went to India to do some volunteer work at a community hospital—went for a month, stayed ten. Then took two months to see some of Europe.’

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