Praise for Alison Roberts:

‘Readers will be moved by this incredibly sweet story

about a family that is created in the most unexpected way.’

—RT Book Reviews on THE HONOURABLE MAVERICK

‘I had never read anything by Alison Roberts

prior to reading TWINS FOR CHRISTMAS,

but after reading this enchanting novella

I shall certainly add her name to my auto-buy list!’

—Cataromance.com on TWINS FOR CHRISTMAS

‘Ms Roberts produces her usual entertaining blend

of medicine and romance in just the right proportion,

with a brooding but compelling hero

and both leads with secrets to hide.’

—Mills and Boon® website reader review on NURSE, NANNY … BRIDE!

Heartbreakers of St Patrick’s Hospital

The delicious doctors

you know you shouldn’t fall for!

St Patrick’s Hospital: renowned for

cutting-edge lifesaving procedures …

and Auckland’s most sinfully sexy surgeons—

there’s never a shortage of female patients

in this waiting room!

The hospital grapevine buzzes with

rumours about motorbike-riding rebel

doc Connor Matthews and aristocratic

neurosurgeon Oliver Dawson—

but one thing’s for sure … They’re the

heartbreakers of St Patrick’s and

should be firmly off limits….

So why does that make them even more devastatingly attractive?!

About the Author

ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, and has written over sixty Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romances. As a qualified paramedic, she has personal experience of the drama and emotion to be found in the world of medical professionals, and loves to weave stories with this rich background—especially when they can have a happy ending.

When Alison is not writing, you’ll find her indulging her passion for dancing or spending time with her friends (including Molly the dog) and her daughter Becky, who has grown up to become a brilliant artist. She also loves to travel, hates housework, and considers it a triumph when the flowers outnumber the weeds in her garden.

The Legendary

Playboy Surgeon

Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT on earth was going on here?

As she stepped out of the lift, Dr Kate Graham found herself staring at the expanse of linoleum lining the floor of this hospital corridor. The flecked beige was clearly marked by … tyre tracks?

Very odd.

Not that a lot of hospital equipment didn’t have wheels and it was conceivable that a particularly heavy item—a portable X-ray machine, for example—might have pneumatic tyres on its wheels, but these marks suggested the kind of wheels that belonged to something that needed a roadway to get from A to B.

The track marks were leading towards the children’s ward, which was also Kate’s intended destination, but she would probably have followed them anyway. Any distraction from what was waiting for her down in the bowels of St Patrick’s hospital was welcome. Something that seemed highly inappropriate and might need sorting out was even better. Kate could potentially defuse the horrible tension that had been building in her for some time now by directing it elsewhere.

Whatever idiot had thought it might be OK to bring a motorbike, for heaven’s sake, right into a ward full of seriously sick children? Kate could see the machine now, as she rounded a corner. A gleaming, bright red monstrosity at the end of the corridor, just outside the double doors that she knew led to the wide playroom, which was a space enjoyed by any child deemed well enough.

The playroom was well past the nurses’ station where Kate had been headed to collect some urgent samples for the pathology department but she didn’t even slow down as she passed the doorway. Not that the area was attended at the moment, anyway, because staff members and patients alike were crowded behind the astonishing spectacle of the motorbike and the leather-clad figure beside it, who was at that moment lifting a helmet from his head.

Connor Matthews.

Well, no surprises there. The orthopaedic surgeon who specialised in child cancer cases might be something of a legend here at St Pat’s but he failed to impress Kate. He was … disreputable, that’s what he was. He might fit in just fine when he was in an operating theatre but when that hat and mask came off he looked, quite frankly, unprofessional. He was weeks behind a much-needed haircut for those shaggy, black curls and at least several days behind basic personal grooming such as shaving. If he wasn’t in scrubs, his appearance was even worse. Jeans with badly frayed hems. Black T-shirts under a leather jacket. Cowboy boots!

Worse than his physical appearance, though, Connor Matthews broke rules. All sorts of rules, and many of them were far less superficial than a dress code. He was renowned for not following established protocols and he seemed to enjoy being in places he wasn’t supposed to be. Good grief, last week he’d not only delivered a pathology sample to her department in person, in order to queue-jump, he’d hung around and peered through microscopes himself until a diagnosis had been made. If she’d been in the laboratory when he’d turned up he wouldn’t have got away with it just by flashing that admittedly charming smile.

Was that how he’d engineered the appalling demonstration of rule flouting that was going on here now? The paediatric nursing staff had probably melted under the onslaught of his careless charm, the way the lab technicians had last week. They were certainly bedazzled right now. Nobody had noticed Kate’s arrival and they weren’t making room for her to get any closer to the centre of attention. Everybody was riveted by what was happening in front of them.

Connor Matthews was not a small man. As he sank to his haunches in front of a small, pyjama-clad boy, the leather of his pants strained across muscular thighs and the rivets on the back of the biker’s jacket were put under considerable stress as it stretched taut across his broad, strong shoulders. Kate could almost hear a collective, wistful sigh from all the women present.

Connor was oblivious to her glare, of course. He had the motorbike helmet cradled in hands that looked too big to be capable of the delicate skills she knew he displayed in Theatre. She’d also heard how good he was with children too and that was more believable, given the way he was talking quietly to the boy as though they were the only two people in existence. And then he eased the oversized helmet onto the boy’s head, got to his feet and lifted the child onto the seat of the motorbike with a movement that was careful enough not to compromise a tangle of IV lines and gentle enough to elicit an audible sigh from the women this time. The boy’s mother was holding the IV pole steady with one hand. She was pressing the fingertips of her other hand to her face to try and stem her tears as Connor showed the boy how to hold the controls.

And then he did the unthinkable. He reached out and turned a key and the engine of the motorbike roared into life, emitting a puff of black smoke from the wide, shiny silver exhaust pipe. There were children in here suffering from major respiratory illnesses, for heaven’s sake. Asthma, cystic fibrosis, compromised immune systems and …

And everybody around her was smiling and clapping. One of the nurses was taking photographs. Kate stood, rigid with indignation as the show broke up shortly thereafter. The engine of the motorbike was switched off. The small boy relinquished the helmet and was gathered up by his mother and taken away. Staff members remembered urgent tasks and dispersed in different directions and the other children were wheeled, led or carried back to where they were supposed to be, many of them craning their necks and sending longing glances back to where the excitement had been happening.

Only Connor remained. He hung the helmet over a handlebar by its chinstrap and kicked the stand up. With a movement that made the heavy machine look weightless, he turned it and began to wheel it back down the corridor, leaving a new set of track marks on the floor. The young girl with a mop and bucket and the uniform of the cleaning staff merely smiled shyly as he went past, ducking her head with pleasure as he made some apologetic comment about the mess. He looked up then in the direction he was travelling and that was when he saw Kate. A curiously guarded expression came over his features as he closed the distance between them.

Busted!

By no less than Princess Prim and Proper from Pathology.

The alliteration was pleasing enough to tease a quirk of his lips but Connor wasn’t about to allow a real smile to form. Partly because he knew he could be in for some serious flak if some the rule-makers around here heard about this morning’s stunt but it was more because he was facing someone who clearly didn’t have the compassion to have been as moved by what had just occurred as everyone else was.

The lump in his own throat was only just beginning to melt now and it was being replaced by another kind of constriction. One that had its roots in much darker emotions. The kind he’d grown up with. Feelings of sadness and frustration and … failure.

Attack might be the best form of defence.

Connor smiled. Always a good diversionary tactic. He raised his eyebrows as well, to suggest a pleasant surprise.

‘Kate, isn’t it? Fancy meeting you here.’

The subtext wasn’t very subtle. This was his patch. With the kids that deserved all the help they could get and their families who needed it just as desperately. This woman with her palpable air of disapproval belonged in the basement of St Pat’s. Along with her test tubes and microscopes and the bodies of those unfortunate enough not to make it out of hospital.

She didn’t smile back. No surprises there.

‘Not everyone delivers urgent samples to the pathology department in person,’ she said.

Her subtext wasn’t exactly subtle either. Connor met her glare steadily.

‘Sometimes,’ he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘you find yourself in a situation that requires a bit of lateral thinking. Going the proverbial extra mile, if you like.’

His gaze travelled slowly over Kate. Her hair was glossy and black and had the potential to be attractive but it was scraped back into the tightest ponytail ever with its length braided into a very solid-looking rope. Her eyelashes were visible, despite the thick rims of her glasses, and they were also thick and black. God given, no doubt, because Connor couldn’t see any evidence of make-up being applied.

There were sensible, flat shoes on the other end of her body and, in between, he could see a small amount of a plain, straight skirt. She wore a white coat, for heaven’s sake. Who did that these days? And even the people who felt the need to advertise some kind of clinical status would never, ever be uncool enough to button it up like that.

When he lifted his gaze to her face again, he found Kate staring back at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. He suppressed a sigh.

‘No, I don’t suppose you would ever feel like doing that, would you?’

‘If you mean I wouldn’t feel like bringing a motorbike indoors and puffing poisonous exhaust fumes around a whole lot of sick children, you’d be right. I can’t believe that you thought it was—’

Her outraged admonition was interrupted by someone hurrying towards them.

It was the mother of the little boy from the back of the bike. She’d courageously managed to hold back her tears earlier but they were flowing freely now.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her words choked.

‘Hey …’ Connor held the weight of the bike with one hand, using his other arm to draw the woman close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘It was nothing, Jeannie.’

Jeannie gave an enormous sniff. ‘I have to get back. It … it won’t be long now.’

‘I know.’ The lump was back in Connor’s throat. He needed to find a space by himself for a few minutes. Preferably with a bit of speed involved. Maybe he’d take the bike for a quick spin on the motorway.

Jeannie stood still for a moment, taking a huge gulp of air to steady herself. ‘I just had to say thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Liam … went to sleep with the biggest smile on his face.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘I don’t think he was even aware of any pain when he was sitting on your bike. The photos are … are …’

‘Something you’ll treasure.’ Connor had to swallow hard. ‘Go and be with Liam, Jeannie. He needs his mum.’

Her face crumpled again as she turned away. Connor had to take a very deep, slow breath because he was suddenly aware that Kate was still there and that she’d heard every word of that emotional exchange. Surely she couldn’t have missed the undercurrent? The reason why Connor had been prepared to break so many rules here?

She hadn’t. He could see it in her face, which had gone a shade paler. And in the way her eyes seemed to have grown a lot bigger. He hadn’t noticed how blue they were before.

‘I … I don’t know what to say,’ she stammered awkwardly.

‘Don’t say anything, then,’ Connor advised wearily. He had to get away. If he was going to cry, it had to be out on the motorway where the moisture could be attributed to the wind getting in his eyes.

He got the motorbike moving again with a jerk. Kate was still standing there, opening and closing her mouth as though she really wanted to say something but couldn’t think what. She looked like a stranded fish.

And she was still giving off a disapproving vibe. Maybe she still intended to do something about his misdemeanour. Connor felt sandwiched between the constraints of the establishment she represented, with its inability to do enough for someone like Liam, and the weight of grief he could feel emanating from that private room down the end of the ward where a mother would be cradling her dying child.

He had to push back against one of those barriers or he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

‘You know what?’ Connor shook his head. ‘You need to get a life. You’re about as buttoned up as that ridiculous coat you’re wearing.’

Her coat?

What was wrong with her coat?

Kate collected the samples that needed urgent testing to see whether a two-year-old girl had meningitis. The nurse who handed them over had clearly been crying very recently. Other staff members were huddled at the central station, clutching handfuls of tissues. One took a sheet of paper emerging from the printer in the corner and held it up. Someone else stifled a sob.

Kate craned her neck a little to see what they were looking at. It was a large copy of a photograph. A small boy, his head almost obscured by the oversized helmet he was wearing so that what jumped out at the viewer was his grin. And what a grin. Bright enough to make anything else in the image irrelevant, even the tangle of IV lines that were coming from the central line just under his collar bone.

She turned and walked away with something close to panic nipping at her heels. The emotions were so raw here but what was she hurrying towards? Something even worse?

Arriving at the pathology department, Kate delivered the samples.

‘Do them immediately,’ she instructed. ‘Phone through the results but make sure a hard copy goes straight to the ward.’ She eyed an empty slot at the bench. ‘Maybe I should do it myself.’

‘They’re waiting for you downstairs.’ The lab technician’s grimace conveyed sympathy. They all knew what was waiting for Kate this afternoon. What they didn’t know was how unbearably difficult it was going to be.

‘I don’t think I can do it.’

The head of the pathology department, Lewis Blackman, said nothing for a moment. He gestured for Kate to sit down in the small, windowless office.

In his early sixties, Lewis was a quiet man. Overweight, silver-haired and thoughtful.

‘Remind me why you chose pathology as a specialty, Kate?’

Oh … Lord … was he going to tell her she wasn’t suitable? Everybody expected her to take over as HOD when Lewis retired in a few years. She expected it herself but how could she if she couldn’t handle the downside of what this job entailed?

Lewis was waiting patiently for a response. Kate’s thoughts travelled back in time. To when she’d been a nurse and had hated the frustration of being on the sidelines. Being treated as a lesser being by those who got to make the diagnoses and then treat the patients. She thought of how hard she’d struggled to support herself by doing killer night shifts while she’d put herself through medical school. Then she remembered what it had been like being a junior doctor. She’d probably had more respect than others, being a little older and more experienced in the world of medicine, but she’d still felt as though she was on the outside somehow.

‘I saw pathology as being the lynchpin in almost every critical case. Every doctor, no matter how skilled they are, can’t do their job unless they know what they’re dealing with. Sometimes they’re holding their breath for what we can tell them, like when they’re in Theatre, waiting for the result of a tumour analysis.’

Unbidden, her thoughts flashed up an image of Connor Matthews. Not in Theatre, with his scalpel poised waiting for word from the pathology department, though. Oh, no, she could picture him dressed in his leathers. Dark and disreputable and prepared to break any rule in the book to grant a wish for a dying child.

She sucked in a slightly ragged breath.

Lewis was nodding. ‘True enough. But you could stay in a laboratory to do all that. You could avoid being anywhere near the morgue and you’d never have to do an autopsy.’ Kate ‘s heart took a dive. ‘But that can be the most exciting part of this job. Finding out what went wrong … so … so it doesn’t happen again. It can be like putting together the most challenging jigsaw puzzle in the world. Finding the piece that maybe nobody even knew was missing.’

Lewis smiled, nodding. ‘Satisfying, isn’t it?’ He eyed Kate. ‘You do the neatest, most thorough autopsies I’ve ever seen and I’m including my own. You could have been a brilliant surgeon, you know.’

‘I’m happy where I am. I have my life exactly the way I want it.’

Lewis merely quirked an eyebrow. What was he thinking? That she was thirty-five years old and single? That she lived alone and had a passion for things in test tubes or on microscope slides or, worse, for dead bodies? That she was a freak? Someone to be pitied?

‘You need challenges, though, don’t you? Something to keep that sharp mind of yours intrigued? Isn’t that why you want to take over the forensic specialty?’

Kate had to nod but her teeth were worrying away at her bottom lip as she did so.

‘Coroners’ cases are often about an unexplained death that has a medical cause or trauma that’s come from an accident, but some of the most important cases are crime related and the detail we can give can make a difference to whether the perpetrator of a crime is punished. Our report can be essential for making sure a murderer or rapist or child abuser can’t do any more harm out there.’

Kate was still nodding. She knew that. She had also had a taste of the kind of excitement that came from unravelling the totally unexpected. Of not knowing what could come through the door, disguised in the heavy latex of a body bag. Sometimes the victims came directly from the scene of the crime. Often, though, they made it to hospital and lived for a short time. Occasionally, there was the added trauma of someone having to make the decision to turn off life support. Like today’s case.

Lewis was looking somewhere over the top of Kate’s head now. ‘You’re a clever woman, Kate. Do you know, it took me over a year to realise that you were actively avoiding any case that involved young children? You always had such a good reason for not being available but eventually I began to see the pattern and when you took the first sick day I’d ever known you to have, I understood what was going on. At least, I understood what. I have no idea why.’

He paused for moment as he met her gaze. ‘Is it something you want to talk about?’

Kate shook her head. Lewis nodded his, slowly, as if he hadn’t expected any other response.

‘The most vulnerable people out there are children,’ he said quietly. ‘Especially babies. It breaks my heart to have to deal with them in there.’ His hand waved in the direction of the adjacent morgue with its stainless-steel benches and buckets and the grim tools of this part of their trade.

‘But someone has to,’ Lewis continued. ‘And whether it’s medical or forensic, it has to be done. I’ve given you as long as I can to get used to the idea. I can be with you today if it would help, but this has to be make or break, Kate. If it’s something you can’t face then now’s the time to decide. If you can’t, that’s absolutely fine, but we’ll have to rethink the direction your career is taking.’

She’d known it was coming. She’d been stepping closer to the edge of the precipice for a long time. She had steeled herself for this day and she’d thought she was ready. Right up until she’d seen that desperate sadness in the depths of Connor Matthews’ already dark eyes. Until she’d felt the touch of emotions so painful they were impossible to block completely.

But if she stepped back from the edge, where would she go?

She would be trapped in a prison of her own making. Lewis was right. She had to have challenge. Something that gave real meaning to her life. Kate could almost feel the frustration now. See herself circling some vast laboratory, hemmed in by test tubes and specimen jars and thin glass slides. Ranks and ranks of them that looked like prison bars all of a sudden.

‘I’ll do it,’ she whispered.

‘Want me to stay?’

Kate raised her gaze to meet the concern in Lewis’s eyes directly. He was offering her a lifeline. A rope so that she could abseil down the precipice instead of stepping into the void alone.

‘Thanks, but I think it’s best if I do it by myself.’

She did do it.

By herself.

Hours later, Kate was driving herself home and she had never been so exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Her head was still full of it.

The procrastination before she’d entered the morgue. Reading the clinical notes on Peyton, the week-old baby girl who was waiting for her.

The cerebral scan demonstrates no apparent blood flow, indicative of brain death. While there could have been some residual brain-stem function and life could have been prolonged with mechanical ventilation, there would have been no recovery …

The wobble in her voice when she’d started her dictation.

… a full-term infant with no apparent external abnormalities …

The microscopic appearance of the slides made from tiny slivers of brain tissue.

The ends of the axons show shortening consistent with having been sheared off by violent shaking or rotational injury.

Clinical notes or dictation that had the undercurrent of such draining emotional involvement. Peyton’s mother was only seventeen and she’d hidden the pregnancy for as long as she could. Long enough to take termination out of the equation as a possibility. She lived with a large, dysfunctional extended family and nobody was talking now. Who had shaken this tiny baby and caused the fatal injuries? What kind of unbearable stress had been going on? It was so easy to judge in cases like this but Kate knew, more than most people, the damage that stress could cause.

She didn’t want to think about it. Not on a personal level. Because if she did, she would remember the pain of losing a tiny person that she could have loved so much. That could have loved her.

She didn’t have to think about it. She was heading towards her sanctuary. Her beautiful home where she could play the music she loved and cook the food that she was so good at creating, and she could even have a glass of wine tonight because she’d certainly earned it. She could soak in the peace and comfort of the world she’d created and it would heal her soul because she would be able to tap into the strength she knew she had.

Kate turned down the long driveway, overhung by the huge oak trees that made a leafy tunnel in summer. Her lovely old house nestled at the end of the driveway with its antique lion’s head knocker on the heavy wooden front door. There were brick steps leading from the crushed shell pathway and …

And on the top of the steps something large and human that launched itself towards Kate as she rounded the corner of the house from the garage.

‘Kate! Oh … thank God … I’ve been waiting for you for ever.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘BELLA. What on earth are you doing here?’ Kate’s initial shock gave way to a mix of joy and dread. She knew her niece so well and she had just spotted the suitcase near her door. What was Bella running away from?

‘I tried to ring but you didn’t pick up and then I thought, Why don’t I just surprise you?’ Sheer happiness bubbled from Bella in the form of a giggle. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘Oh … yeah …’ The tight hug Kate had been locked in was loosened enough for her to step back a little. Good grief … Bella had become even more gorgeous in the months since she’d last seen her. Her hair was much longer. A tumble of shiny blonde waves. Legs that looked like they went on for ever, thanks to the super-short mini-skirt and the high, high heels. It was impossible not to smile back. ‘It’s been way too long, Bells. We’ve got some catching up to do.’

‘Well, we’ve got all the time in the world.’ Bella laughed and lunged for her suitcase. ‘Let’s go inside. Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?’

‘I already did.’ Kate fished for her key, shaking her head. It was spinning now. The plan to banish any lingering aftermath of her day’s work in peaceful solitude was blown away.

The world was a different place when Annabelle Graham was around.

Kate’s front door opened into an elegant, panelled hallway with a Persian runner adding warm crimson tones to all the dark woodwork. Like the rest of her home, the hallway was furnished with carefully chosen, beautiful antique furniture and ornaments, everything in exactly the right place and without a speck of dust to mar gleaming surfaces.

Bella’s case was missing a wheel. It bumped and swayed along the runner, bunching up the worn areas on the priceless carpet. Bella was just as out of synch with her surroundings but it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

‘Oh … look … you’ve still got that collection of old keys! Aren’t they gorgeous? D’you remember when you found the first one? In that junk shop you were hiding in when you ran away?’

‘I didn’t run away. I’d just gone for a walk.’

Bella gave her the same smile she had when she’d discovered Kate in that junk shop all those years ago. The one that said she understood and it was OK. Kate had never forgotten it. How could she? The bond between these two women had been forged right then, even though Bella had only been six years old at the time.

And maybe that smile was exactly what Kate needed right now. How could solitude and tapping into an inner strength, even in perfect surroundings, compete with that kind of acceptance and unconditional love? Even if Bella had never known, and hopefully never would know, the whole story, this feeling of not being so alone in the world was a precious thing.

So Kate simply smiled back. ‘I’ve missed you, Bells.’

‘Oh … me, too.’ Bella abandoned her overstuffed bag in favour of giving her aunt another tight hug. ‘And I’ve got so much to tell you.’ She swung away again, as light on her feet as a dancer. ‘Am I in this room again?’

The light was flicked on in a butter-yellow room that had a bay window and an antique brass bedstead with a patchwork quilt.

‘Of course. It’s the only guest room with an en suite. How long are you staying?’

But Bella had opened her case and the contents seemed to explode in relief.

‘I’ve got something in here for you. Oh … where is it?’

Scraps of lacy underwear like nothing Kate had ever worn were tossed aside. Long black boots with heels that could double as lethal weapons followed. A battered teddy bear was snatched up, cuddled and then deposited tenderly on the bed to nestle between snowy-white, frilled pillowcases.

‘Good grief … you still have that bear?’

‘Are you kidding? You gave him to me. I couldn’t sleep without Red Ted.’

Within the space of sixty seconds the room looked like a bomb site, with clothing, cosmetics and even books strewn about. And then Bella triumphantly held up a small package, exquisitely wrapped in primrose-yellow tissue paper, with a ribbon that matched the tiny bouquet of dried wild flowers it held in place.

Kate’s chest felt tight as she accepted the gift. This was pure Bella. Disorganised, irresponsible and unbelievably messy, but amongst the chaos were moments that were simply perfect. The kind you stored in your memory bank for when you needed to remember that life was worth living.

‘Go on, open it, Kate.’ Bella was hugging herself with excitement.

Inside the lovingly wrapped package was a photograph in a beaten, silver frame. A small girl and a young woman sitting together on a swing seat, their arms around each other. They weren’t looking at the camera because they were smiling at each other.

‘D’you remember this? I found it in an old album and Dad said I could have it copied and framed.’

‘Oh …’ The tight feeling in Kate’s chest was making it difficult to draw in a breath. Her smile felt wobbly. ‘How old were you then?’

‘Dunno. Eight or nine? That tree blew down in a storm last year, did Dad tell you?’

‘No. That’s sad.’

Bella shrugged. ‘It was getting too big, anyway. It blocked half our sun. What is it with you and Dad and trees? You’re practically buried in a forest here. Doesn’t it feel like you’re walled off from the world or something?’

Kate mirrored the shrug. Maybe the world was walled off from her and that was the way she liked it.

‘It’s a gorgeous photo. Thank you. You shouldn’t be spending your money on me, though. I thought you were saving up to go overseas.’

‘I am. That’s why I’m here. Nurses get paid better in the big smoke.’ Bella did a little twirl. ‘I’ve got a job at St Pat’s. How cool is that?’

Kate’s jaw dropped. ‘A job?’

‘Yep. Not where I want to be to start with, mind you. I have to do a three-month rotation in Theatre and then in Geriatrics.’ Bella grimaced. ‘But if I can stand it, I get to be in my favourite place after that. With all the babies in Paeds.’

‘So this is a permanent position?’

Bella laughed. ‘Permanent? Me? Are you kidding? No. I just want to save enough to get offshore. A year or maybe six months if I save hard.’ She grinned. ‘And if my lovely, kind auntie will let me live with her.’

Kate still hadn’t closed her mouth. The whirlwind that was Bella was a joy in small doses but for the next six months to a year? Could she cope? Her head was still spinning. No, her whole world seemed to be spinning. Bella was the flip side of her own personality. Impulsive where she was cautious. Ready to drop anything for a better offer where Kate hated to change routines. Prepared to take risks to shake the maximum amount of joy out of life where Kate retreated to safety every time.

Inexplicably, the image of Connor Matthews came to mind. As if he was in the room with them, watching her. Comparing her with Kate. Nodding, as if to say, Yeah … here’s a woman who has a life.

‘Can I stay? Please, please, please?’

‘Of … course you can.’

‘I won’t be any trouble, honest. I’ll help with the cooking and cleaning and everything. And I’ll probably be out heaps. You won’t even notice I’m here.’

Kate’s gaze took in the wild array of possessions scattered around the guest bedroom. She knew exactly what the kitchen would look like if Bella took a turn at cooking. Yes, she’d go out a lot because her niece was never without friends for long, but she’d be coming in at two or three a.m. Or not coming in at all and she would be left lying awake wondering where Bella was and whether she was safe. Yes, there were times when there was a definite downside of the vicarious living that could be done by being around Bella, but there was also an attraction. A buzz. Life became much more colourful. Fun.

She couldn’t banish that image of Connor from her head. She could imagine him smiling now. Approvingly but with an edge of smugness.

A smile that said, Watch and learn, Dr Graham.

Birds of a feather, her niece and the maverick surgeon? No. Bella didn’t set out to break rules. She either didn’t notice they were there or thought she could get away with anything by using a combination of contrition and charm. And it usually worked. If it didn’t, she sucked up any punishment because she had brought it on herself. Which was probably why she was unrepentant about the broken hearts she’d been leaving in her wake for years now. That was a game that had to be played according to Bella’s rules and she was always upfront about her plans for her future. She wasn’t going to consider a permanent relationship until she was thirty and then she was going to choose the perfect man and settle down to have a dozen kids.

Another facet of the flip side. Watching Bella grow up was the closest Kate would ever get to having a child of her own.

‘I’m starving,’ Bella announced. ‘Ooh … I’ve got a bottle of wine for you in my handbag. A red. The man in the shop said it was a very good one.’

Kate recognised the label. A nice New Zealand Shiraz. ‘Good choice. I’ve got lamb shanks in the slow cooker. Well done, you.’

Bella laughed. ‘Pure luck. I said it came in a bottle so it had to be good.’ She held the bottle aloft like a trophy. ‘Shall we? You can tell me all about St Pat’s while we eat. Like who the hottest doctors are.’

Kate was laughing as she led the way to her kitchen. She could be quite sure that Bella was more than capable of discovering that kind of information for herself in no time at all. In fact, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if her niece arrived home on the back of Connor’s motorbike within a fortnight.

The new nurse in Theatre was cute.

Tall and blonde. Blue-eyed and smiley. Just the way Connor Matthews liked his women. The absolute opposite of grim-faced, dark-haired, disapproving females who clearly had no fun in life at all.

So why hadn’t he been able to expunge the image of Kate Graham from his mind over the last few days?

Because he felt bad, that’s why. It had been a mean thing to say, telling her that she needed to get a life. Adding that her white coat looked ridiculous had been nothing more than childish. And also mean. Connor was not a mean person. The only justification for the way he’d attacked her was that he had been in the middle of a fairly devastating emotional experience.

Connor scrubbed harder at his hands with the soap-impregnated brush. Under his nails. Between his fingers. Hard enough to hurt.

He’d been to young Liam’s funeral only yesterday and even during the service he’d been thinking about Kate. A distraction, maybe, from memories that had the potential to wreak havoc in his life even now.

He’d thought about the way her face had changed when she’d realised what had actually been going on. The reason he’d done something as outrageous as taking a huge, dirty motorbike into a children’s ward. She’d gone so pale. Been so lost for words and … when he’d thought about it later there’d been something in her eyes that had suggested she was all too familiar with the kind of pain life could dish out sometimes.

How did she know that? What had happened to her?

Something big enough to make her the way she was? As if she didn’t want to connect with people. Almost as though she was afraid of the good things life could offer.

Why?

It wasn’t as if she was a wimp. It took guts to see a medical degree through. And brain power. And … she wasn’t that bad looking. If she undid those buttons and took off those glasses and let her hair do something remotely natural, she could be a different person.

Connor found himself grinning as he angled his reddened but virtually sterile hands under the stream of warm water that he activated with the foot control. He was fantasising about a scene where Kate was the cliché librarian or secretary who loosens her clothing, sheds the spectacles and then shakes out a magnificent mane of hair to transform from a prude into a total vamp for some bemused but appreciative guy.

Like him.

The grin became a grimace. What was he thinking?

Just as well the cute new nurse was there to tie the strings of his gown. She could line up with at least half a dozen of his previous girlfriends and be like a pea in a pod. Great looking and great fun to be with, at least until they got ideas about it meaning more than it did.

This afternoon’s case was a long and complicated one. A pillion passenger on his big brother’s bike, fourteen-year-old Dillon had such badly broken bones in both his legs and one arm it was going to be a considerable challenge to restore normal function for the teenager. The bones needed precise alignment, using external fixation, and there were tendons and ligaments to patch together. There were also quite long periods when Connor had to step back to allow other specialist surgeons to work their magic with the nerves and blood vessels that needed major repair.

Just the kind of opportunity he knew how to take advantage of. The new nurse was being used as a gofer as she got used to her new working environment and there were times when she wasn’t required to fetch or carry anything so she was standing around watching as well.

Connor stood beside her.

‘Hey … You’re a new face.’

A bit of a new face anyway but Connor had seen her disappearing into the female changing room so he’d seen the long blonde hair that was now covered by a disposable hat. The lower half of her face was covered by a mask now too but he’d already seen her smiling at the nursing staff she’d arrived with. Having only her eyes visible made them even more appealing. Very blue they were. Reminded him of … hell, any number of women probably.

‘I’m Bella,’ she whispered. ‘This is my third day at St Pat’s.’

‘Connor,’ he murmured back. ‘Delighted to meet you, Bella.’

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I’ve heard about you.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘All good things, I hope.’

‘Depends on your definition of “good”.’ Bella giggled and earned a disapproving glance from a senior nurse.

The anaesthetist glanced up with a resigned sigh. ‘Give it a rest, Matthews. You’re not actually obliged to pick up every new nurse, you know.’

‘Hey … I’m just trying to make Bella here feel welcome.’

‘Of course you are,’ another nurse said. A ripple of laughter went through the theatre staff.

Connor grinned along with them but made a mental note to point out to his anaesthetist colleague, Mike, that the pot shouldn’t be calling the kettle too black. Maybe they’d be able to get a game of squash in this evening and they could discuss it then.

He didn’t get another chance to try and chat Bella up. Partly because he was too busy with his work but also because she got sent out of Theatre. Maybe it wasn’t really her fault that the accident had happened. Technicians were moving some heavy gear and she got in the way somehow and was almost knocked off her feet. Fortunately, she managed not to fall into the sterile field but nobody was thrilled by the explosive disruption of the heavy metal object she’d been carrying hitting the floor. Bella didn’t look too thrilled either, because the collection of used surgical instruments destined for the steriliser had landed on her foot and she was limping quite badly as she slunk out.

She wasn’t limping when he spotted her later, having finally escaped the intense surgical session. She was sitting on a couch near a set of lifts, her shoe off, rubbing at her foot.

‘Broken bone?’ Connor suggested hopefully. ‘Do you need the services of an orthopaedic surgeon perhaps?’

Bella scowled at him. ‘You don’t need to rub it in. I already feel like a complete klutz. It’s just a bruise.’ She glanced at her mobile phone as a text-message alert sounded. ‘Darn … I was hoping to get a ride home but it looks like I’ll have to find a bus.’

It was obviously painful to try and put her foot into her shoe. And no wonder, the high heels weren’t exactly practical.

Connor couldn’t resist a maiden in distress. ‘Don’t force it,’ he advised. ‘Leave it off and get some ice on your foot when you get home.’

‘That’ll be a good look, running for the bus in bare feet.’

‘You could call a taxi.’ Connor wasn’t going to leap in to the rescue if it wasn’t welcome.

Bella shook her head firmly. ‘No way. I’m saving up to head overseas. Every penny counts.’

‘In that case, please let me offer to be of service with no scalpel in sight. I have an extra helmet in my locker.’

‘Helmet?’ Bella’s eyes brightened. ‘You ride a bike?’

‘Sure do.’

Her glance was curious. ‘You’re an orthopaedic surgeon and you just spent hours putting a teenager back together after he fell off a motorbike. Are you nuts?’

‘Probably. Want a ride home?’

Bella grinned. ‘Sure.’

It was all a bit too easy, Connor decided, following Bella’s directions to one of the nicer city suburbs. He should be delighted. Here he was, riding his bike with the arms of a beautiful girl wrapped around his waist. A perfect girl, given her liking for motorbikes and the willingness to take a bit of a risk. Taking her home where she’d probably ask him in for a coffee or something and he could offer to check out her foot and one thing would inevitably lead to another and …

There was no challenge here.

The sacrilegious thought that the predictability could be boring was unexpected. Disturbing, even.

So disturbing that Connor suppressed his intention to decline the offer to go inside the rather lovely old house he took her to. He must be tired or something, he decided. Maybe the loss of one of his young patients had affected him more than he’d realised. If an evening with Bella didn’t perk him up, he’d know there was something seriously amiss.

‘Nice place,’ he said, pulling off his helmet.

‘It belongs to my aunt,’ Bella told him. ‘I’m just living with her while I’m working at St Pat’s. She works there, too. Come on in. You probably know each other already.’

It was quite possible. Connor was friendly with a lot of the older members of the nursing staff. It was a bonus that Bella wasn’t living with a bunch of nurses close to her own age. Even with his current ambivalence about taking this acquaintance any further, it would be rather awkward if an old girlfriend was lurking.

He had time to look around as Bella hobbled up the hallway ahead of him. The house was even nicer on the inside. The aunt clearly had good taste. She could cook, too, judging by the very appetising aroma that was coming from the area Bella veered into at the end of the hallway.

‘Oh, my God,’ he heard a woman’s voice say in concern. ‘Why are you limping? What have you done to yourself this time?’

This time? Was Bella accident prone? Maybe she needed looking after.

‘Someone moved an X-ray machine in Theatre and I wasn’t expecting it,’ Bella was explaining as Connor entered the room. ‘I lost my grip on this bucket of stuff for the steriliser. It wasn’t my fault.’ She twisted her head. ‘Was it, Connor?’

But Connor couldn’t say anything in Bella’s defence. He hadn’t seen the incident in the first place and right now it was the furthest thing from his mind. He wasn’t even looking at Bella. He was staring at Kate Graham.

At least, he thought it was Kate.

Maybe it was the good twin? This woman looked like Kate but couldn’t look more different, which made no sense. His head was spinning. The good twin was wearing jeans. Not just any old jeans. These were beloved old, soft, faded jeans with frayed knees and bare feet beneath them. There was a pale, grey T-shirt that was way too big. Big enough for a bare shoulder to be peeping through the neckline. She had no glasses on and her hair hung in a black curtain almost to her waist. A damp kind of curtain, as though she’d just jumped out of a shower.

Or into a movie scene. The prude versus vamp one. To his horror, Connor felt something remarkably like a blush stirring under his skin.

Bella was looking at him and then at Kate. Back and forth as if she was watching a slow-motion tennis game.

‘I thought you guys would know each other,’ she said. She gave an exasperated huff. ‘Kate, this is Connor. I can’t remember his last name. He’s a surgeon at St Pat’s. Connor, this is my aunt, Kate Graham. She hangs out in Pathology.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess St Pat’s is bigger than I thought so maybe your paths never cross.’

Connor was grappling with a new sensation.

Acute embarrassment? Probably. He couldn’t escape the impression that he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing. As if he was some kind of voyeur peeping through a gap in a curtain. This was even worse than the bit of leftover guilt from the knowledge of how rude he’d been to her the other day. On top of both those unpleasant sensations there was also something he didn’t want to identify that had to be blamed on the absurd flight of fancy whilst scrubbing in this afternoon.

He cleared his throat. He had to say something. Kate was doing that totally-lost-for-words thing again.

‘They’ve … um … crossed,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, good.’ Bella gave Kate a quick hug on her way towards the fridge. ‘Have we got any ice? I think I should put some on my foot. Connor was kind enough to give me a ride home when I found I couldn’t fit my shoe back on.’

‘Three days,’ Kate muttered, her tone faintly incredulous.

‘What?’ Bella looked up from the depths of the freezer. ‘You think I need to ice my foot for three days?’

‘I … No, of course not. If it’s still that sore and swollen tomorrow, you’d better get an X-ray. You might have broken something.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Connor said. ‘Heavy things, those buckets. Especially when they’re full of the kind of surgical gear we use for rearranging bones.’

Bella had a bag of frozen peas in her hand. ‘Can I use these? Much better than ice blocks.’

‘Sure. Just don’t put them back in the freezer so we eat them by mistake.’

‘Speaking of eating …’ Bella lifted a lid on a pot. ‘Ooh, yum. This smells divine.’ She grinned at Connor. ‘My aunt is the best cook in the world.’

‘I can believe that.’ Connor couldn’t help licking his lips.

Bella took another look in the pot. ‘There’s heaps here. Connor could stay and have some dinner with us, couldn’t he, Kate?’

‘I … uh …’ Kate had no idea what to say.

This was an appalling situation. Nobody from her work had ever been into her home. Her private life was exactly that. Private. She didn’t want anyone here. She especially didn’t want this man. St Pat’s playboy doctor. The one who thought she was buttoned up and needed a life. She had exactly the life she wanted. Private and … and safe.

Until now.

Good grief, she was only just out of the shower and her attire could hardly be deemed presentable. And even if she’d still been in her work clothes she would have felt half-naked with that look he’d given her when he’d come into the room. For heaven’s sake, he’d brought Bella home. What did he think he was doing, looking at her like that?

And why did it give her the most peculiar ripple of sensation in places she was barely aware of?

She’d known Bella would be capable of discovering the most desirable of any available men at St Pat’s and she had imagined her arriving home on the back of Connor’s motorbike. But she’d given it a fortnight. Three days had be breaking some sort of record, surely? And did she want to sit and watch this embryonic, going-nowhere, purely sexual relationship develop under her gaze? In her own home?

No, she damn well didn’t.

Connor was looking just as uncomfortable at the prospect but somehow that didn’t mollify Kate in the least.

‘I can’t stay,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I’ve got—’

He didn’t get time to finish his sentence because Bella had turned around with the bag of peas in her hand to head for a chair but when she put weight on her foot, she gave a cry of pain and looked like she was about to fall. Connor stepped forward with commendable speed, caught Bella and practically lifted her bodily onto the kitchen bench.

‘That foot needs looking at,’ he said firmly. ‘Sit still.’

Bella sat.

Connor pulled a kitchen chair close and perched on the edge of it so that the injured foot was close to eye level. Then he put his hands on it.

‘Ouch,’ Bella said.

‘How much ouch?’

‘Lots.’

‘You’ve certainly got a good bruise coming up. Good thing you missed a direct hit on your toes. Can you wiggle them all?’

Bella wiggled.

Kate watched. There was indeed a large bruise on the top of Bella’s foot and it probably hurt a great deal. How crazy was it to be feeling … what, envious of her niece right now? No. She was feeling frustrated, that’s what it was. She wanted Connor out of her kitchen. Out of her house. Preferably out of her life.

Connor had his hand under the foot. ‘Try and push my hand away.’ He rested his hand gently on the top. ‘Pull up against my hand.’ Then he began carefully but thoroughly to palpate all the tiny bones Kate knew a foot contained.

‘Don’t think anything’s broken,’ he said finally. ‘But the only way to know for sure is to get an X-ray. Maybe I should run Bella back to A and E.’

‘No need,’ Kate said crisply. ‘I can take her. I don’t think riding a bike with a potentially broken foot is the best idea, do you?’

She didn’t mean to sound like some prim school teacher but it certainly came out that way. She saw the look that Connor and Bella exchanged. Her niece was smiling.

‘Don’t take any notice,’ she told Connor. ‘She’s a sweetheart, really.’

‘I’m sure,’ Connor murmured, sounding anything but. He backed away. ‘Let me know how it goes,’ he said by way of farewell.

Kate flicked off the controls on her stove. Dinner could wait. Her appetite had deserted her in any case.

‘Come on.’ She helped Bella down from the bench. ‘You can sit a bit closer to floor level while I go and make myself presentable. Then we’ll go and see what the damage is.’

The rest of the damage maybe. Something felt very odd about her home right now. As though something indefinable had been broken. Connor was gone but she could still feel his presence in her house.

And she didn’t like the feeling one little bit.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.