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

About the Author

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

MILLS & BOON

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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.

He took her hand, pressed a reassuring kiss into her palm and curled her fingers over the imprint of his lips. ‘Stop worrying,’ he said softly. ‘You can say no and it won’t be a problem. Just come and have a drink with me.’

‘I don’t normally do this sort of thing,’ she muttered, and more colour flooded into her face.

‘Me, neither,’ he said. ‘How shockingly bold of us.’

To his relief, she responded to the teasing note in his voice and smiled back. ‘I guess so.’ And she made no protest when he unlocked his room and gestured for her to go inside.

‘Take a seat,’ he said. Though he wasn’t surprised that she pulled the chair out from under the dressing table rather than sitting on the bed. ‘Shall I order some champagne?’

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I think I’ve already had enough. So unless you’re planning to drink the whole bottle yourself…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Probably not.’

‘You spilled most of your glass over me,’ he pointed out.

She winced. ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t intending to make you grovel, just pointing out that you haven’t had a drink tonight.’

‘Actually, I have.’ She bit her lip. ‘This is going to sound terrible, but I drank one glass straight down before the one I spilled over you.’

Now that did surprise him. She’d looked slightly vulnerable when she’d first met him, but he’d assumed that was simply embarrassment at spilling her champagne over him. ‘Why? Didn’t you want to come to the party?’

‘No, it’s not that. The hospital ball’s always fun.’ She blew out a breath. ‘We said no questions, remember.’

He shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’ Though he still wondered. Why would a woman with such beautiful eyes and such a perfect mouth need to bolster her courage with champagne?

‘Why do you have a room here?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘And who was it who just reminded me, “no questions”?’

‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m not much good at this. I never go off with complete strangers whose name I don’t even know.’

Neither did he. But then again, he hadn’t responded so powerfully to someone for a long time; if he was honest, he hadn’t felt like that about his wife. And he’d avoided dating since his marriage had disintegrated.

His sisters were all nagging him to have some fun and start dating again. And the way Cinderella had kissed him back on the dance floor had really stirred his blood. He had the feeling that this was something they both needed. Except she was clearly worried about him being a stranger. ‘That’s an easy one to sort. My name’s—’ he began.

‘No,’ she cut in. ‘We’re at a charity ball for the hospital. So the chances are, if you were a complete snake, you wouldn’t be here. Or else someone would’ve warned me about you beforehand and I’d know to avoid you.’

He blinked. ‘The grapevine’s that fast?’

‘Yup.’

‘So you work at the hospital,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘No questions,’ she reminded him.

He smiled. ‘It wasn’t a question. It was a logical deduction. This is a charity ball for the hospital, and you clearly know people, plus you’ve been to the ball before and you know how fast the grapevine works. QED.’

‘And you had an expensive education.’ She smiled at his raised eyebrow. ‘Again a logical deduction. Most people don’t use Latin abbreviations in everyday speech.’

‘So the fact you recognise it says the same about you,’ he parried.

‘Not necessarily. I might be a crossword addict.’

‘I like fencing with you,’ he said. ‘Almost as much as I like dancing with you.’ His gaze held hers. ‘And almost as much as I like kissing you.’

Colour bloomed in her face, but this time it wasn’t shyness. The way her lips parted slightly and her pupils grew larger told him that she liked remembering the way they’d kissed, too.

He took her hand; this time, instead of kissing her palm, he kissed her wrist right where her pulse was beating madly. The longer his mouth lingered, the more her pulse sped up. Her skin was so soft. And she smelled gorgeous—some floral scent he couldn’t quite place, mixed with something else. Soft and sweet and gentle. Irresistible.

‘You do things to me, Cinders,’ he said softly. ‘But I’m not going to push you. Do you mind if I…?’ He ran his finger round the collar of his shirt and grimaced.

‘Slip into something more comfortable?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed. ‘Hardly. I just want to feel a bit less—well—formal.’

‘Sure.’

‘Thank you.’ He stood up and removed his jacket, hanging it in the wardrobe. Then he undid his bow tie and the top button of his shirt and let the tie hang loose, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up.

She sucked in a breath.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Forget Prince Charming. You’re all James Bond,’ she said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a good thing?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice was husky. ‘My best friend and I saw the last film three times at the cinema.’

‘Well, just for the record, I hate martinis.’

She smiled. ‘So do I.’

‘And I don’t have a licence to kill.’

She spread her hands. ‘The only licence I have is a driving licence.’

He laughed. ‘Snap. I like you, Cinderella.’ His voice deepened, softened. ‘Come here.’ It was an invitation, not an order. She paused, clearly weighing it up, then nodded, stood up and crossed the short distance between them.

He cupped her face with both hands. ‘A perfect heart shape,’ he said softly. ‘And right now I really, really want to kiss you. May I?’

‘Yes.’

Ed smiled and lowered his mouth to hers. Teasing, enticing, more of those little nibbling kisses that had her twining her fingers through his hair and opening her mouth so he could deepen the kiss.

And, just like it had been between them on the dance floor, he felt desire lance through him.

He pulled away slightly, spun her round and undid the zip of her dress. She arched back as he stroked his way down the bare skin he uncovered. Her skin was so soft; and touching her like this wasn’t enough. He wanted more. A hell of a lot more.

Gently, he slid the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He drew her back against him, his hands splayed across her midriff and his thumbs stroking the undersides of her breasts through the lace of her bra.

‘I want you,’ he whispered. ‘I want to be with you, skin to skin.’

‘Me, too.’ The admission was low and throaty, and sent a kick of sheer need through him.

She turned to face him, untucked his shirt from his trousers and undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt. Her hands were gentle and yet sure as she slid her palms across his pecs. ‘Nice,’ she said appreciatively.

‘Thank you.’ He inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘I like it when you touch me.’

She smiled back, and pushed the cotton from his shoulders; his shirt pooled on the floor next to her dress. She traced the line of his collarbone with one finger.

Good, but not enough. He needed more. He kissed her again, his mouth teasing and demanding at the same time.

He unsnapped her bra, tossed the lace to the floor and then cupped her breasts properly. ‘You’re beautiful, Cinders.’

No, I’m not. Her thoughts were written all over her face.

Someone—presumably her ex—had really done a number on her. Just as much as Camilla had made him wary of trusting anyone.

‘Whoever he was,’ Ed said softly, ‘he was an idiot.’

‘Who?’

‘Whoever put that look in your eyes.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re wearing too much.’

She’d said ‘no questions’. And now he had a pretty good idea why. This was starting to look like rebound sex. For both of them.

But they’d agreed from the start that this was one night only. A night out of time. The new hospital was big enough for their paths never to cross again. And if he could make her feel good about herself again tonight, the way she was making him feel good about himself, then that would be a bonus for both of them.

He took her hands and drew them down to his belt. ‘Since you think I’m wearing too much, why don’t you even things up?’ he invited.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she undid his belt, then the button of his formal trousers, and slid the zipper down.

‘You are beautiful, you know,’ he said softly. ‘Your eyes—I’m not sure if they’re green or grey or brown. The colour keeps shifting, and it makes me want to know what colour they are when you’re really aroused. And your mouth.’ He traced her lower lip with one fingertip. ‘It’s a perfect cupid’s bow. It makes me want to kiss you until we’re both dizzy. And here…’ He dipped his head and took one hardened nipple into his mouth.

She gave a sharp intake of breath and tipped her head back in pleasure.

Part of Jane knew that this was a seriously bad idea. He was a stranger. And she’d never had a one-night stand before.

Then again, this wasn’t a relationship. She didn’t have to take the risk of trusting him and then discovering that he had feet of clay, the way she had with Shaun. In a weird kind of way, this was safe—because this man wasn’t going to get close enough to her heart to break it.

His mouth teased her lower lip, demanding and getting a response. Jane wasn’t sure which of them finished undressing whom, but then he’d lifted her and was carrying her to the bed. She felt the bed dip with his weight, and then the mattress shifted again as he climbed off. She opened her eyes.

‘Condom,’ he said in answer to her unspoken question.

At least one of them was being sensible. It hadn’t even occurred to her. How reckless and stupid was that?

He rummaged in his trousers for his wallet, took out the foil wrapper and placed it on the bedside table.

‘You look worried.’ He stroked her face. ‘If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll understand. I’ve never forced a woman, and I don’t intend to start now.’

‘I just…’ She hadn’t even dated anyone since Shaun’s betrayal, let alone slept with anyone. She’d turned down the couple of offers she’d had, not wanting to risk the same thing happening all over again. ‘I’m not used to this kind of thing,’ she admitted.

‘Then let’s get used to it together.’ He bent his head to kiss her again; his mouth was gentle and promising, rather than demanding. Until she responded, when suddenly the kiss turned hot, turning her into a mass of sheer aching need.

This time, when he touched her, the shyness was gone. She gave herself up to the sensation as he stroked her, teased her, let her touch him in return.

His hand slid between her thighs and she gasped in pleasure.

It really shouldn’t be this good for a first time. They didn’t even know each other’s names, for pity’s sake. But it felt as if Prince Charming knew exactly where she liked being touched, exactly how to make her respond to him.

She was near to babbling when she heard the rip of the foil packet and the snap as he rolled on the condom to protect her. Then he eased, oh, so slowly into her. And it was heaven. This was a man who knew exactly what to do—how to give pleasure, how to take her right to the edge and keep her there until she was practically hyperventilating.

And then wave after wave of pleasure surged through her as her climax hit. He held her tightly, and she felt the answering surge of his own body against hers.

Gently, he withdrew. ‘I’d better deal with the condom. Excuse me a moment,’ he said softly.

Jane pulled the sheet back over her, the pleasure replaced by a rush of awkwardness. What did you do on a one-night stand? Did you stay for the whole night, or did you get dressed and leave straight after having sex? She didn’t have a clue. She’d never done this kind of thing before; she’d always hung out with the nerdy students, not the wild ones.

He reappeared from the bathroom—still naked, and looking completely unembarrassed about the situation. Clearly he had some idea of the rules; whereas she felt totally at sea.

He climbed into bed beside her and drew her against him. ‘What’s wrong?’

She sighed. ‘If you really want to know, I don’t have a clue what the rules are. What you’re supposed to do next on a one-night stand.’

‘Once you’ve had sex, you mean?’ He stroked her hair. ‘I don’t think there are any rules. What we do next is entirely up to you.’ He smiled. ‘Though my vote would be for you to stay a bit longer and for us to order something from room service.’

‘Your toasted cheese sandwich?’

He shrugged. ‘Or whatever you like from the menu.’

Funny how something so homely could make her feel so much more at ease. ‘Toasted sandwiches would be lovely, thank you. And orange juice.’ She smiled at him. ‘And can I be really greedy and ask for coffee as well?’ The champagne she’d gulped down was still fizzing through her and she really didn’t want to spend the next day with a hangover. OK, so she was a lightweight, hardly ever drinking more than a single glass of wine; but she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time.

He smiled back at her. ‘Coffee sounds great to me.’

‘And of course I’ll pay my half,’ she added.

He shook his head. ‘My room, my idea and my bill. Don’t argue.’

There wasn’t much she could say to that, unless she offered to treat him some other night. Which would definitely be breaking the rules—by definition, a one-night stand was for one night only. ‘Then thank you,’ she said.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘when I came out tonight, didn’t think I was going to end up sitting in bed with a perfect stranger, eating comfort food. But I’m really glad I met you, Cinders.’

‘Me, too,’ she said softly, meaning it.

The sandwiches, when they arrived, were gorgeous. The orange juice was freshly squeezed. And the coffee was among the best she’d ever tasted.

‘That was fabulous. Thank you,’ she said when they’d finished.

‘My pleasure.’

He really was gorgeous. Those piercing blue eyes made her heart skip a beat.

But she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. ‘And I guess this is my cue to leave.’

‘If that’s what you really want.’ He stole a kiss. ‘Or you could…’ He paused. ‘Stay. Tonight.’

The heat was back in his expression. How could she resist? ‘Yes.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE next morning, Jane woke with a start. She was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with a body curled protectively round hers.

For a moment she thought she was having some peculiarly vivid dream, remembering what it was like being part of a couple and waking up in her man’s arms. But then the body next to hers shifted and pulled her closer.

She was definitely in bed with someone else. And she’d split up with Shaun eight months ago. Which meant that the body curled round hers belonged to…She swallowed hard. She was still in bed with the handsome stranger she’d spilled champagne over last night.

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. What a stupid thing to do: spending the night with a complete stranger, without telling anyone where she was. Even if he did have lovely manners and had given her more pleasure in one night than her ex-fiancé had given her in two years, he was still a stranger. Anything could’ve happened.

Oh, for pity’s sake. Dr Jane Cooper was known for being ultra-sensible. She didn’t do this sort of thing.

Except…she just had.

At least she hadn’t told him her name. Hopefully their paths wouldn’t cross so they could avoid an embarrassing situation. Even if they both worked at the London Victoria, the hospital was big enough for her not to know at least half the staff; and she definitely hadn’t met him before, or she would’ve remembered those beautiful eyes.

She’d needed practically no persuasion to spend the whole night with him. And they’d spent most of the night making love. They’d actually run out of condoms, and she’d felt like the bad girl she’d never actually been.

It wasn’t that she had regrets about last night—how could she regret the way he’d made her feel?—but she really didn’t have a clue how to face him this morning. What to say. How to deal with the situation. Plus she needed to be somewhere. So the best thing she could do would be to slip quietly away before he woke. It would avoid embarrassment on all sides. Gradually, she worked her way out of his arms; when he moved to pull her back again, she gave him the warm pillow she’d been lying on, and he cuddled that closer.

Cute.

Jane smiled regretfully. Maybe if they’d met under other circumstances… But there was no point dwelling on it, and she really needed to check on a patient and talk to her boss.

She picked up her clothes from the floor and quickly dragged them on, rescued her handbag and her shoes, tiptoed over to the door, and unlocked it very quietly. When she glanced back towards the bed, she could see that he was still sleeping. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed silently. ‘For making me feel beautiful.’

Then she remembered. His jacket. Considering it had been her fault, the least she could do was pick up the dry cleaning bill.

There was a leather folder on top of the dressing table, with the hotel’s crest stamped on it. Just as she’d hoped, it contained paper and a pencil. She slid the top sheet quietly out of the folder and scribbled a quick note on it. Then she took some money from her purse and left it on top of the note, then put the pencil on top of the banknotes to weigh them down. Finally, she closed the door behind her and fled.

Back at her flat, Jane showered—trying not to think about what Prince Charming had done with her in his shower last night—and changed into jeans and a plain T-shirt. Once she’d downed a mug of coffee, she flicked into her phone and read the article again, just to be sure that she wasn’t making a fuss over nothing.

She wasn’t.

She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. There was no point in trying to call Jenna to task over it. Her twin would simply open her big brown eyes and claim innocence, say it wasn’t her fault the journalist had written it that way. And then somehow their mother would get wind of the row and she’d have a panic attack; and the blame for that would be laid firmly at Jane’s door. Been there, done that, worn the T-shirt until it was in rags.

So instead of asking Jenna what her problem was and why she couldn’t play nicely for once, Jane sent her a very polite email, saying simply, Thank you for letting me know. Even Jenna couldn’t twist that.

And now she was going to have to do some damage limitation, as well as check up on how Ellen Baxter was doing this morning.

‘You’re supposed to be off duty, Jane,’ Iris, the senior midwife, said as Jane walked into the department.

Jane smiled. ‘I know. Thanks for sending that message through Theo last night.’

‘Did you have a good time at the ball?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Are you sure?’ Iris gave her a concerned look. ‘You’re looking a bit… well, worried, this morning.’

‘You know me. Always worrying about my patients,’ Jane said lightly. She knew Iris would be sympathetic if she told the midwife about that horrible article, but she needed to tell Theo first. And if anyone was too nice to her right now, she might just bawl her eyes out—from frustration as much as hurt. ‘Talking of patients, I’m just going to see Ellen.’

Ellen Baxter was listlessly flicking through a magazine, but she brightened when Jane walked into her room. ‘Dr Cooper!’

‘Good morning, Ellen.’ Jane’s smile was genuine. ‘How are you doing?’

‘OK. I hope.’ Ellen grimaced. ‘I’m trying to relax.’

‘But it’s hard when you’re on bed rest and you want to be at home.’ Jane patted her hand sympathetically. ‘Let me have a look at your charts.’ She read through them swiftly. ‘OK. Can I check your blood pressure and your temperature?’

‘You can stick as many needles as you like in me, if it means I can go home!’ Ellen said.

Jane laughed. ‘You’re safe from needles today.’ She checked Ellen’s blood pressure and temperature, then marked them on the chart. ‘That’s good. Any twinges or spotting?’

‘None. And, believe you me, I’d say if there was,’ Ellen said feelingly. ‘I don’t want anything to go wrong. I can’t lose this baby.’

‘I know,’ Jane soothed. ‘We’re all rooting for you.’

‘Everyone’s being so nice here, but it’s just not home.’ Ellen flushed. ‘And I know it’s wet of me, but I can’t sleep properly without Rob.’

‘It’s not wet. It’s perfectly understandable.’ It had taken Jane weeks to get used to sleeping on her own after she’d split up with Shaun. Luckily she’d been the one to move, so at least there were no memories of him in her flat. ‘Ellen, I’m happy with your obs. If Rob can come and pick you up, then I’ll discharge you this morning. With conditions,’ she added firmly.

‘Anything,’ Ellen said, her eyes shining.

‘Firstly, you take it easy. Secondly, any worries at all—no matter how small or how silly you think they might be—you call me. Thirdly, any twinges, you get straight here to the department. OK?’

‘OK.’ Ellen’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ve been so lovely. If it wasn’t for you…’ Her voice cracked.

Jane squeezed her hand again. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’ She smiled at Ellen and got off the bed. ‘You call Rob, and I’ll get the paperwork sorted with Iris.’

‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ Ellen’s eyes glittered with tears.

Warm and soft in his arms… Ed snuggled closer, then realised drowsily that he wasn’t holding someone, he was holding something. He opened his eyes. A pillow.

She’d left him asleep, holding a pillow.

Unless maybe she was in the shower? He listened, but he could hear nothing from the bathroom. And the sheet on her side of the bed was stone cold. She’d been gone for a while.

Well, he supposed it was one way to avoid the awkwardness. Though it stung that she hadn’t waited for him to wake up.

On his way to the bathroom, he saw the note on the dressing table.

Dear Prince Charming, Thank you for last night. Hope this covers the dry cleaning bill. Cinders.

So she’d played the game right to the end. He damped down the surge of disappointment that she hadn’t left him her number or told him her real name.

And there was the fact that she’d left him some money. He knew she’d meant it to cover the cleaning bill for his jacket, but it still made him feel cheap.

Still, it was his own fault for acting on impulse. He was better off being his usual sensible, serious self. And he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Once the paperwork was done, it was time to start the damage limitation. Jane knocked on Theo’s open office door.

He looked up from his desk. ‘Janey, you’re supposed to be off duty. What are you doing here?’ He raised one hand to silence her reply. ‘Oh, don’t tell me. Ellen Baxter.’

‘Yes. I’m discharging her this morning. She’ll call me if she has any worries and she’ll come straight back here if she has the slightest twinge.’

‘And did you come in to tell me that, or to bring me coffee?’ he asked, looking hopeful.

‘Actually, a large brandy might be more in order,’ she said ruefully.

He frowned. ‘What’s up, Janey?’

She dragged in a breath. ‘I need to show you something. I’m sorry, I had absolutely no idea about it until I got the email last night.’ She pulled the article up on her phone and handed it to him.

Theo read through it, his mouth set in a grim line; when he’d finished, he looked up at her. ‘I’ve never seen such utter spite in my entire life. I can’t believe this is focused on something so shallow and it doesn’t even say what you do! Are you all right?’

No. She was ragingly angry and desperately hurt. She yanked the emotions back. No more tears. Just smiles. ‘I’m fine,’ she fibbed. ‘But this is going to look really bad for the department. If you want me to resign, I understand.’

‘Resign? You must be joking. Janey, you’re an excellent doctor and this rubbish has got nothing to do with you.’ He flicked out of the screen. ‘When does the magazine go on sale?’

‘I’m not sure. This week, I think.’

‘Right. I’ll have a word with the shop manager and make sure it’s not on sale in the hospital this week. If necessary, I’ll buy their entire stock of the magazine myself. I can’t do anything about people who buy it elsewhere and bring it in, but my guess is that anyone who knows you—staff or patient—will be fuming on your behalf.’ He looked grim as he handed the phone back to her. ‘And those who choose to spread gossip or make stupid comments to you—well, their opinions are worth nothing in the first place, so just ignore them, OK?’

‘Thank you.’ She felt humble beyond belief that her boss was prepared to buy up the entire stock of magazines to try and spare her from an awkward situation.

‘I take it that—’ he said something in Greek that she didn’t understand, but from the expression on his face it definitely wasn’t anything complimentary ‘—sister of yours was behind this?’

Jane spread her hands. ‘She asked me to do the interview months ago. It was meant to be a feature about twins, “the beauty and the brains”. Except I was up to my eyes with work and exams, so I said I couldn’t do it. I thought she’d just forgotten about it.’

‘More like she used it to have another dig at you, because she’s incredibly jealous of you.’

‘She can’t be. There’s absolutely nothing to be jealous about. She’s a supermodel,’ she reminded Theo.

‘She’s also heading towards thirty and she’s not going to get the same kind of work opportunities she had when she was eighteen. Looks don’t last, but education does. You’re clever, your career will be going from strength to strength while hers is starting to go more slowly, and everyone who meets you really likes you. That’s why she’s jealous,’ Theo said. He sighed. ‘Do your parents know about this?’

‘Probably not. But I’m not going to say anything. You know my mum’s fragile.’

‘I know depression’s tough to overcome,’ Theo said gently, ‘but it doesn’t mean you can just give up on being a parent to your children. When have either of your parents ever put you first?’

Jane didn’t want to answer that. ‘It’s OK.’

Theo gave her a sympathetic look. ‘You’ve got more patience than anyone else I know.’

‘It’s not easy for Mum. She was right at the height of her career when she fell pregnant with Jenna and me and had to give it all up.’ According to Sophia, pregnancy had ruined her skin and her figure; and, with the crippling post-natal depression she’d suffered afterwards, she’d never been able to return to her modelling.

‘You know, Maddie could say the same thing. Being a mum means that she’s had to give up some of her career choices, and I’ve turned down offers as well because I don’t want a job that’d mean I can’t give her and our daughters enough time. But neither of us would change a thing, because the girls have brought so much joy to us,’ Theo said softly.

Jane had to swallow hard. What would it be like to have a family who loved her unconditionally, the way Maddie and Theo felt about their children, instead of making her feel guilty for being born? What would it have been like if Jenna had supported her and cheered her on through the long years of studying medicine, instead of pulling her down and mocking her all the time?

Though it was pointless dwelling on it. She couldn’t change the way they were. All she could do was try to love them as best as she could—and, since Shaun had betrayed her with Jenna, that had meant from a safe distance. Which, she supposed, made her just as bad as them.

Theo reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Sorry. I’m overstepping the mark. It’s not my place to criticise your family. Though I wish they’d appreciate you for who you are.’

He paused. ‘Do you want me to call Maddie? Or Sorcha?’

‘No. I’ll be fine.’

‘Hmm.’ He looked at her. ‘Is that article the reason why you disappeared from the ball so early last night?’

‘No.’ Not exactly. She definitely wasn’t telling him the real reason behind that.

‘Sure?’

‘Sure,’ she confirmed.

‘I’ll believe you—for now.’ He smiled at her. ‘Now, go and have two nice days off, forget about that stupid article, and come back all bright-eyed on Tuesday morning, yes?’

‘OK, Theo.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘And thank you.’

‘Any time.’

On Tuesday morning Jane had just checked up on her first patient when Theo walked in. ‘Janey, have you got a moment?’

She looked over at him, saw the man in the white coat next to him, and her knees went weak as she recognised him.

Oh, my God.

He couldn’t possibly be… Could he?

Theo’s next words confirmed it. ‘I’d like to introduce you to our new consultant.’

If Theo said his name was James or Bond, she was going to collapse in a puddle of hysterical laughter.

‘Edward Somers,’ Theo continued. ‘Ed, this is Jane Cooper, one of our F2 doctors, but it’s not going to be long before she makes registrar.’

She could feel her face going bright red and there was a tiny, tiny smile lifting the corner of Ed’s mouth. Oh, please, don’t let him say anything about Saturday night…

‘Good to meet you, Jane,’ he said politely.

Then she realised she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to spill the beans. Clearly he wasn’t going to do that: because it wouldn’t reflect too well on him, either. She smiled at him in relief. ‘You, too, Edward—or do you prefer Ed?’

For a second, she could swear he mouthed ‘James Bond’, but then he said, ‘Ed. May I join you in your rounds?’

‘I—well, sure.’ She spread her hands. ‘You’re the senior. I guess you should lead.’

Ed smiled at her. ‘Patients are much more important than protocol. You already know them, so I’m happy for you to lead and introduce me while we’re there.’

‘I’ll leave you in Jane’s capable hands,’ Theo said, and headed back to his office.

‘Very capable,’ Ed said softly.

Oh, help.

‘I, um… Look, we probably need to talk, but for now can we keep this… well, just work?’ Jane asked.

‘For now,’ he agreed.

Before she could take him to the next patient, Iris hurried over. ‘We’ve just had a call from the ED. The mum’s twenty-four, she’s eleven weeks pregnant and she can’t stop being sick. Marina thinks it’s hyperemesis.’

‘We’re on our way,’ Jane said.

In the emergency department, she swiftly introduced Ed to Marina Fenton, the specialist registrar.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s hyperemesis. Poor woman—morning sickness is bad enough,’ Marina said. ‘I’ve already done bloods and sent them off for electrolyte levels, blood count and renal.’

‘Thanks, Marina—that’s great.’

‘Mrs Taylor’s through here.’ She showed them to the cubicle where a young woman was retching miserably into a bowl.

‘Mrs Taylor? I’m Jane Cooper and this is Ed Somers. Dr Fenton asked us to come down and see you. Can I get you a drink of water?’ Jane asked.

Mrs Taylor shook her head. ‘I can’t keep anything down.’

‘Taking small sips might help you feel a little bit better,’ Jane said gently, and stuck her head out of the cubicle for long enough to ask one of the auxiliaries to bring in a glass of water.

‘How long have you been feeling like this?’ Ed asked.

‘About a month. I knew you got morning sickness, I just didn’t expect it to be all day and all night and as bad as this.’ She retched again. ‘Sorry.’

‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Jane said, squeezing her hand.

The auxiliary brought in the water Jane had asked for, and Mrs Taylor managed a small sip. ‘Thank you. That’s made my mouth feel a bit less disgusting,’ she admitted.

‘Good. Have you talked to your family doctor or your midwife about your sickness?’ Ed asked.

‘I didn’t want to bother them.’ She shook her head. ‘My sister had it bad, too. She lost weight and felt lousy all the time for the first bit.’

Jane and Ed exchanged a glance; hyperemesis was known to run in families. But it was also more common in women carrying twins—or, more rarely, it could be caused by something more sinister. They needed to run some tests to rule out the nasties.

‘My boss made me come in. I was sick over a client. It was her perfume that set me off—it was so strong.’ Mrs Taylor bit her lip. ‘I really hope he forgives me.’

‘I’m sure he will. He sent you in because he was worried about you,’ Ed reassured her. ‘So, you’re about eleven weeks. Have you had a scan yet?’

‘No, that was meant to be next week. My Jason’s getting the day off to come with me.’ Worry skittered across her face. ‘Is there something wrong with the baby? Is that why I keep being sick like this?’

‘I think you have something called hyperemesis—it’s basically really bad morning sickness,’ Ed said. ‘I’ve treated mums before who’ve had the same thing. It’s really miserable for you, but you’re in the right place and we can do something to help you feel a lot better.’

‘Really?’ Mrs Taylor looked as if she didn’t quite dare believe them.

‘Really,’ Jane confirmed.

‘And it won’t harm the baby? Only my nan said she knew someone who took stuff to make them stop being sick and the baby was…’ She shuddered. ‘I feel like death warmed up, but I’d rather put up with that than risk anything happening to the baby.’

‘We won’t give you anything that’s not safe for the baby,’ Ed reassured her. ‘Dr Fenton told us she’s already done some blood tests, so we need to wait for the results of those. But in the meantime we’d like to give you a scan and see how the baby’s doing.’

‘Has anyone called your husband, or would you like us to call someone to be with you?’ Jane asked.

‘Jason’s on his way,’ Mrs Taylor said.

‘That’s great. We’ll to take you up with us to the maternity unit, then,’ Jane said.

‘And, because you’re quite dehydrated from being sick, I’d like to keep you in for a little while and put you on a drip to replace the fluids you’ve lost. That’ll make you feel a lot better, and we have one or two things that will help you stop being sick but won’t affect the baby,’ Ed reassured her.

By the time they’d taken Mrs Taylor up to the maternity unit, her husband had arrived. Ed ushered them in to the consulting room with the portable scanner, and Jane noticed that he was careful to make sure that the Taylors couldn’t see the screen, in case it was bad news.

‘What I’m going to do is to put a bit of gel on your stomach—sorry, it’s a bit cold, whereas down in ultrasound it’s always warm. All it does is help us get a better picture of the baby,’ Jane explained. ‘It’s not going to hurt you or the baby—I’m sure your midwife’s already told you this, but it’s all done by sound waves.’

Mrs Taylor retched again, and her husband held the bowl for her; when she’d finished, Jane wiped her face with a damp cloth.

‘This baby’s going to be an only child,’ Mrs Taylor said. ‘I’m not going through this again. Ever.’

Jane made a soothing noise and glanced at Ed. Please, don’t let it be a molar pregnancy causing the sickness, she thought.

Ed returned her glance; as if he could read her mind, he gave her a reassuring smile and the tiniest nod.

Thank God.

‘I’m pleased to say that the baby’s doing fine.’ Ed turned the screen to show them. ‘I did wonder if you might be having twins, because that sometimes makes the sickness much worse; but you’re having just one. Here’s the heart, beating nicely.’ He pointed out the baby’s heart. ‘Everything’s looking just as it should do.’ He made some quick measurements. ‘And you’re eleven and a half weeks.’

Mrs Taylor brushed back a tear. ‘The baby’s really all right?’

‘The baby’s absolutely fine,’ Ed reassured her.

‘Can we have a picture?’ Mr Taylor asked.

‘Unfortunately, this is a portable scanner, so we can’t print anything from it. But when you have your proper scan next week, they’ll be able to give you pictures then,’ Jane explained.

Ed ran through the treatment plan, explaining what they were going to try and why; Jane found herself chipping in from time to time. It was as if she’d worked with him for years, instead of only half a morning. Whatever the complications caused by their fling on Saturday night, she was definitely going to able to work with this man. He fitted right in to the team, and he treated the mums with respect and dignity. And she liked that. A lot.

‘I like your bedside manner,’ she said when they’d left the Taylors.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Funny, I find sometimes women run from it.’

Jane felt the colour shoot into her face. ‘I didn’t mean that kind of bedside. I meant how you are with the mums. In my last hospital, I worked with a consultant who was incredibly brusque and treated everyone like idiots, mums and staff alike. He had all the social skills of a piranha, and I swore I’d never become like that myself or be forced to work with anyone like that again.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Though I guess I knew you wouldn’t be like that, or Theo would’ve refused to appoint you.’

He smiled. ‘I was teasing you, Jane.’

Her face was burning. ‘Sorry. Everyone says I’m too serious. I’m afraid you drew the short straw and you’ve got the nerdy one to work with.’

‘Nerdy’s good,’ he said. ‘I like clever people. Come on, let’s finish our rounds.’

She introduced him to the rest of her patients. When they’d finished, he said, ‘I think we need to talk. Probably not where we’re likely to be overheard, so do you know a quiet corner somewhere?’

Here it came. Retribution for her acting so madly, so unJanelike, on Saturday. And Sunday. ‘Believe it or not, the most private place is probably going to be the hospital canteen; it’s noisy and people don’t get a chance to eavesdrop.’

‘Good. Let’s go.’

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