Pregnant

Joel swallowed hard. He couldn’t go through this again—baby, postnatal depression. Especially now that Beth was old enough to understand what was going on and be hurt by it.

“How long?” The words felt like sand in his mouth.

“Early days. About eight weeks.”

Lisa was obviously waiting for him to say something. He knew he ought to say something, but when he opened his mouth absolutely nothing came out. His mind felt as blank as his voice.

When Vanessa had told him they were expecting Beth, he’d whooped with joy and whirled her around. Now he was lost for words. Lost, full stop.

“I’m only telling you,” Lisa said calmly, “because I thought you had a right to know. But you also need to know that I don’t expect anything from you—and neither will my baby.”

Before Joel could get his mouth or his body unfrozen, she walked out. Closed the door behind her. And by the time he made it over to the door, she’d vanished.

He swore silently. Right now Lisa had to be his priority.

Lisa—and their unborn baby.

Dear Reader,

I’m a complete wuss when it comes to snow. Especially if I have to drive in it. I hate the stuff. And it was made worse a couple of years ago when I ended up fishtailing down a hill on snow that had melted and refrozen into sheet ice. When I finally got home to safety and stopped shaking, it occurred to me that it’d be a great start to a medical romance. And supposing a tall, dark and handsome hero had come to my rescue…? (In real life, said tall, dark and handsome hero was about five miles away, so he couldn’t actually come and rescue me right then, but he calmed me down on the phone enough to let me drive the car down the hill to safety.)

We holidayed in Northumbria the following summer and I fell in love with the coastline there—especially going out to the Farne Islands and seeing the puffins and the seals, and visiting the rose garden at Alnwick Castle. I’d had a yen for ages to write a coastguard book. So I had my setting, my opening scene and the area of medicine. Next I needed the hero.

On cue, he walked into my head—a gorgeous man with a tragic past and a heart that really needs healing. The heroine also has a heart that needs healing. But before they can find happiness (and the family they both deserve), they have to learn to trust.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I’m always delighted to hear from readers, so do come and visit me at www.katehardy.com.

With love,

Kate Hardy

The Consultant’s New-Found Family
Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Gerard, Chris and Chloë.

Just because.

CONTENTS

Cover

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

NO. THIS couldn’t be happening. Especially not today.

The back wheels fishtailed wildly, swinging the car from side to side before slamming it into the side of the kerb.

‘No, no, no. You steer into the skid,’ Lisa reminded herself loudly.

Problem was, she wasn’t sure which way that was, because her car was still fishtailing down the hill. One thing she did know, you weren’t supposed to brake hard on ice. You were supposed to take your foot off the accelerator and let the car slowly, slowly—

The jolt went right through her as the car hit the kerb again and bounced off.

OK. Calm down. Steer to the kerb. Stay in first gear. Let the car come to a halt.

One last bounce, and the car finally stopped.

And now she was stuck.

Couldn’t stay where she was, because she was an obstacle—one that might cause someone else to have an accident as they tried to negotiate their way around her on the ice.

Couldn’t go back—no way could she reverse up a hill that was covered in ice.

Couldn’t go down—the hill loomed below her, a sheet of ice. If she slid across to the other side of the road, the chances were that she’d hit another car on its way up the hill. And she might not be able to stop at the bottom of the slope either, so she could end up driving straight into the path of an oncoming car. A car that wouldn’t be able to avoid her on the icy road and would smash into the side of hers, the door buckling in and her body crushed.

Was this what had happened the day her father—?

No.

She wasn’t going to think about that. Now really wasn’t the time. Or the place. She took her keys out of the ignition with shaking hands and put on her hazard lights.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in March. It was supposed to be the start of spring, for goodness’ sake, not the depths of winter.

‘Lisa Richardson, you can’t wuss out of your first day in a new job,’ she informed herself sternly. ‘You’re trained to winch out of helicopters. You’re going to be clipping people into a safety harness when you’re balancing on a tiny ledge above choppy seas. And that’s a hell of a lot scarier than driving down an icy little hill.’

Except right now it didn’t feel like it. Even her hands were stiff with panic and refused to grip the steering-wheel.

‘All you have to do is drive to the bottom. You know the main road will be gritted. Just take it steady. It doesn’t matter if you have a hundred cars behind you, wanting you to hurry up. Ignore any flashing lights or car horns. Just drive. Slowly. Get to the bottom of the hill. Turn right. Get on the main road out of the village and go to work,’ she said loudly.

But the pep talk wasn’t working. Every nerve-end was jangling at the thought of going down the hill, out of control. She could even see the smash happening in slow motion, hear the splintering glass and screeching of metal against metal. A sound that echoed back and back and back through her past.

I can’t do this! I can’t! she screamed mentally.

And then she screamed for real as she heard a bang.

It took her a couple of seconds—seconds that felt like hours—to realise that someone had knocked on the passenger window. All her windows had steamed up, so she couldn’t see who it was.

She put the key back in the ignition, then pressed the button to lower the electric window until there was a gap of a couple of centimetres. Not enough for whoever it was to put a hand through—she wasn’t that stupid—but enough to talk through.

‘Are you all right?’ a concerned male voice asked.

‘Just hit some ice and smacked into the kerb. It caught me a bit on the hop.’

Oh, talk about sounding wet. She’d never played the helpless female, batting tear-spiked eyelashes and wobbling her lower lip to get her own way, and she wasn’t going to start now. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell a complete stranger why she was so wussy about driving on ice. ‘Sorry to block your way—I’ll move in a second,’ she said. And she fully intended to, once she’d psyched herself up to driving again.

There was a pause while he seemed to be inspecting her car. ‘Looks as if you’ve cracked one of your wheel covers,’ the voice informed her. ‘Do you want me to follow you down the hill, just in case there’s a problem?’

A problem? Did he think that the impact had damaged the wheel or her steering? Oh, no. A road covered in black ice was bad enough. Add dodgy steering, and she was a crash waiting to happen. A crash just like the one that had…

With an effort, Lisa pulled herself together. ‘I’m sure it’ll be OK.’ She wasn’t sure at all, but she needed to feel back in control. And sounding in control was the first step towards being in control, wasn’t it? ‘Thanks for the offer, though.’

The tremor in her voice must’ve been obvious, because he said, ‘You don’t sound very OK. You’re new around here, aren’t you?’

No prizes for guessing that: her accent was pure south London, and right now she was in the northern part of Northumbria. Miles and miles and miles away. She dragged in a breath. ‘Yup.’

‘This road catches even locals unawares when there’s a cold snap,’ he said. ‘The sun comes out for just long enough to melt the ice, then it freezes up again into what feels like a sheet of polished glass.’

He had a nice voice. Calm. Reassuring. It sounded as if he was smiling, and for a second she relaxed and smiled back. ‘We don’t really get icy roads like this in London.’ It was always slightly warmer in the capital than it was elsewhere in the country. ‘And I’ve never fishtailed down a hill before.’

‘It’s pretty scary, the first time it happens.’ He ducked slightly, and she could just see his eyes through the gap in the window. Amazing eyes. A mixture of grey and gold and green, with unfairly long, dark lashes. Was the rest of him as beautiful as his eyes?

Though sitting in a car halfway down an icy hill was the last place she should start fantasising about a complete stranger. Even if the guy wasn’t already committed elsewhere, a relationship didn’t figure in her plans for the future. No way was she ever going to lose the love of her life and spend the rest of her days in the shadows, the way her mother had.

‘Would it help if I drove your car down to the bottom of the hill for you?’ he asked.

The coward in her leapt at the idea; she pushed it back. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be OK.’ Apart from the fact that Lisa had always handled her own problems, the man was a complete stranger. And common sense told her that you didn’t let a strange man get in your car and drive you wherever he liked, even if he did have a nice voice and stunning eyes.

‘If you’re sure. I’ll follow you for a bit. If you’re worried about anything, just stick your hazard lights on and pull over, and I’ll pull in behind you and sort it out.’

He’d definitely earned his Sir Galahad badge. ‘Thanks.’

‘No worries.’

A few moments later she took a deep breath, released the handbrake and crawled along the road. The car smacked into the kerb twice more, jolting her, but then she reached the bottom of the hill. To her relief, she managed to stop before the line. And as soon as she turned onto the main road she could feel that the surface had been gritted. No skiddiness. Everything was absolutely fine.

There was a red car following her: Sir Galahad from the hill. She flashed her hazard lights twice and gave him the thumbs-up sign to let him know that she was perfectly OK now. He imitated her sign—but a couple of miles later she noticed that he was still following her.

He was still behind her when she turned off towards the hospital.

And he was still behind her when she pulled into the car park.

Surely he should have turned off by now? Why was he still there?

Stop being stupid, she told herself sternly. Of course the man wasn’t a stalker or some kind of maniac. He was just a stranger who’d spotted her looking as if she was in trouble—which she had been—and he’d been kind enough to make sure she reached her destination safely. He’d drive away again in a moment. She was still just a bit rattled from that horrible out-of-control feeling as she’d slid down the hill. Overreacting. Being silly.

But then he parked two spaces away from her.

Too close for comfort.

Lisa took a deep breath and blew it out very, very slowly. So, what were her options? One, she could make a run for it and hope she made it through the hospital doors before he did. Two, she could face him down. Three, she could call the police.

Option one: the chances were, he’d be able to run faster than she could. So, no.

Option two: brave, but foolish.

Option three: and tell them what, precisely? That a man had parked two spaces away from her? Pa-a-a-thetic.

She went for option four. Stay still and see what he did next. She was in a locked car, so she was perfectly safe where she was.

Lisa pretended to be looking in her handbag for something and waited, watching the red car out of the corner of her eye.

The door opened. The driver got out, shrugged a coat on and headed straight for the hospital entrance. He didn’t even so much as glance in the direction of her car.

Her whole body went limp with relief—and embarrassment. How stupid had she just been? Convincing herself that her Sir Galahad had turned into a stalker. For goodness’ sake! It was obvious that either he worked here or he was visiting someone.

And she’d better get a move on or she was going to be late. On her first day. Not good at all.

She grabbed her handbag and coat, locked the car door behind her and headed for the emergency department.

Ten minutes later Julie, one of the staff nurses, was showing Lisa around the ward. They were just passing the cubicles when a curtain twitched back and a doctor in a white coat emerged.

Lisa blinked hard. She recognised those amazing eyes from the gap above her steamed-up window. And the rest of him was even more gorgeous. Movie-star handsome—high cheekbones, a strong jaw and sensual mouth that made you want to beg him to use it on you. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and capable hands. The kind of man women lost their heads over—big time.

She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a beautiful man.

If he ever went out wearing a black poloneck sweater and black trousers, every woman who saw him would be a quivering puddle of hormones within seconds.

‘Hey, Joel.’ Julie smiled at him. ‘Meet our new SHO, Lisa Richardson. Lisa, this is Joel Mortimer—he’s our registrar.’

‘Sir Galahad.’ Lisa spoke without thinking.

Julie raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I missing something?’

‘He came to my rescue when I got stuck on some ice on the way to work this morning,’ Lisa explained.

‘Oh, right.’ Julie smiled. ‘That figures. Rescuing’s what Joel does.’

Lisa’s pulse missed a beat. Was he a volunteer doctor with the air ambulance crew, too? Would she end up in a helicopter with him, sitting so close that their knees touched? Oh-h-h. Her temperature had just shot up ten degrees.

Before Lisa could embarrass herself by asking, Julie added with a grin, ‘Though usually it’s in his skimpy red trunks.’

Please, please don’t let me be hyperventilating at the idea of a man this gorgeous wearing the skimpiest of clothes, his wet hair slicked back and his body glittering in the sun with droplets from the sea, Lisa begged silently.

Joel groaned. ‘Don’t listen to a word she says. I do not wear skimpy trunks. I’m a coastguard, not a lifeguard.’

Coastguard? Not part of the air ambulance crew, then. Lisa was shocked by the disappointment that surged through her.

‘You wore a pair of skimpy red trunks for the charity auction,’ Julie reminded him, laughing.

‘Only because Beth nagged me into it. And that was your fault. You put the idea into her head in the first place, you horrible woman,’ Joel informed her, smiling back.

Beth? His wife? Lisa glanced at his left hand—no sign of a wedding ring. Though maybe he just didn’t wear one.

‘I suppose at least you didn’t wax your chest. Or bleach your hair and get a fake tan,’ Julie teased.

Beautiful hair, Lisa thought. So dark it was almost black. Glossy, tousled curls which he’d clearly raked back with one hand, though a lock of hair flopped forward over his forehead. She suppressed the urge to reach forward and brush it back. Just.

‘Thanks for stopping and helping me this morning,’ she said awkwardly.

‘No worries. You’re not the first one who’s been caught out on that hill, and you won’t be the last. If I’d realised you were coming here, I could’ve offered you a lift,’ he said with a smile.

And, lord, what a smile. It actually made her knees go weak.

Very, very bad. Joel Mortimer was definitely someone to stay away from.

‘So you’re a coastguard as well as a doctor?’ she asked, hoping that her voice sounded completely normal—though she had a nasty feeling that she sounded breathless and a bit squeaky, like a schoolgirl asking her favourite pop star for an autograph.

He shrugged. ‘As a volunteer. They call me if they need me.’

The air ambulance service here was run on a similar basis, staffed mainly by volunteers. In London, she’d been on secondment to HEMS for six months and had loved every minute of it. Here, the paramedics on the air ambulance crew were full time but the doctors volunteered to do a shift for a couple of days each month, on their off-duty. Lisa didn’t mind working an extra two days a month for nothing: the way she saw it, she was putting something back in.

And maybe her work could stop someone else losing half their family, the way she had when she’d been sixteen.

‘So what made you come to Northumbria?’ Joel asked.

‘I’d finished my stint at HEMS, so it was time to move on.’ She shrugged. Why Northumbria? ‘I came here on holiday with my parents when I was a kid.’ It had been her last holiday with both parents. She’d just finished her GCSE exams, and although all of her friends had been planning to go on holiday together, travelling by rail through Europe for a month before settling down to start their A levels, her parents had asked her to spend that one last holiday with them instead of taking her first steps into the big wide world with her friends.

She’d been torn. If she didn’t go to Europe with her friends, she’d miss out on swimming in St Tropez, eating the best ice cream in the world in Venice and being chatted up by gorgeous Greek waiters. And she’d feel that somehow she was a baby while all her friends had taken that extra step away from childhood.

But she adored her parents. And they weren’t stuffy like most of her friends’ parents. They talked to her as if she were an adult and her opinion mattered, that she wasn’t just some silly little teenage girl.

In the end she agreed to go with her family. And after what happened barely six months later, she was so glad she had. That she’d not done the stroppy teenager bit and refused to hang out with her parents. That she’d enjoyed a holiday of simple English pleasures—the gardens at Alnwick where every breath you took was filled with the scent of roses, so strong that you could actually taste the flowers; poking round ancient castles and second-hand bookshops; walking along part of Hadrian’s Wall and stopping off at little cafés to have stotties for lunch, the huge local bread rolls filled with cheese and ham.

Funny how memories so good could still hurt.

‘I remember the beaches being amazing,’ she said. ‘These huge stretches of sand underneath cliffs with enormous castles.’

‘The beach here is fabulous. And they sell the best fish and chips in the world on the harbour—you really have to try them.’

Was he offering…?

No. And she wouldn’t have accepted, even if he’d asked. She didn’t do relationships.

‘Well, welcome to Northumberland General.’ Joel held his hand out. Lisa took it, and was shocked to feel her fingers actually tingling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d responded that strongly to anyone.

But no way would a man as good-looking as Joel Mortimer be unattached. From what he’d said to Julie, Lisa knew that there was someone called Beth in his life—girlfriend, fiancée, maybe even his wife. Even if she broke her personal no-relationships rule, she’d never break up someone else’s relationship to do that. She mentally hissed instructions to her libido to sit still.

‘Better get on. My guess is we’ll have a dozen Colles’ fractures in this morning.’ He shrugged. ‘Always do when it’s as icy as this.’

‘People slipping on the path and putting their hands out to save themselves,’ Lisa said. ‘The record in my department in London was forty in a day.’

Julie whistled. ‘Wow. Don’t think I’d like to beat that. Come on, let me show you around the rest of the department, and then you can meet the team.’

‘See you later,’ Joel said. ‘Enjoy your first day with us.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled back, and let Julie lead her away from Joel.

Gorgeous. That was the only word to describe Lisa Richardson. In her car, her face white with fear, she’d looked beautiful but remote. There had been something almost other-worldly about her—an elfin face, huge blue-grey eyes and dark hair cut in a gamine, slightly spiky style that reminded Joel of Audrey Hepburn. Here, on the ward, she’d seemed warmer. Nearer. And when she’d shaken his hand, his skin had tingled at her touch. A tingle that had worked all the way down to the base of his spine. A tingle that had made him want to take her hand and trace a path with his mouth, starting at the pulse beating at her wrist up to her inner elbow and moving up to her shoulder, gliding along the sensitive cord at the side of her neck and then finally—

No. She might be the most attractive woman he’d met in a long, long time, but nothing was going to happen between them. There wasn’t an official hospital rule banning relationships between staff on the same ward, but everyone knew it was a bad idea—they’d all had to work on a team where a personal relationship had shattered and soured the working relationship, too. Besides, Joel had learned his lesson the hard way. Relationships weren’t his strong point.

She’d called him ‘Sir Galahad’; he winced inwardly at the memory. You couldn’t get much further from the truth than that. The gallant knight in shining armour who rescued maidens from peril. Ha. He hadn’t been able to rescue the one person he should’ve been able to rescue. As knights in shining armour went, he was an utter failure. If that was how she saw him, he’d only end up disappointing her.

And then there was Beth.

No, it would be much too complicated.

He shook himself and strode to the reception area to find his next patient.

CHAPTER TWO

THE next week flew by, and Lisa was too busy to say more than hello to Joel. They weren’t on the same shift pattern either: she’d seen him when she’d been on early shift and one of the lates, but not on the two nights she did in her first week.

Not that she asked why the registrar wasn’t doing night shifts. It wasn’t any of her business.

Particularly as she’d overheard a certain telephone call on the Thursday.

‘OK, honey. I’ll pick you up from Hannah’s as soon as I finish here. See you soon. Love you, too, Beth.’

She shouldn’t have listened. Or sneaked that look at Joel’s face. Seen the softness of his eyes and the sheer love in his smile—the same expression she’d seen on her mother’s face whenever she’d looked at Lisa’s father.

True love.

The One.

And then, when it was all over, what then?

Her mother had had years and years and years of loneliness. Sure, of course she’d needed time to mourn the love of her life. Of course she wouldn’t have wanted to find someone else straight away. But it had been so long—twelve years of being on her own, of nobody ever measuring up to The One. Lisa had promised herself she’d never, ever let herself fall in love with someone so deeply that he’d be her whole world and she’d never get over it if she lost him. And she’d kept that promise. She’d dated at med school, but she’d always kept things light. When her friends had started pairing off, she’d managed to avoid being set up with a suitable man by a shrug, a smile and the sweetly worded comment that you didn’t need to date someone to have fun and she was doing just fine, thanks.

In the week she’d been here, Mark, one of the paramedics, had asked her out; so had the registrar on the maternity ward, Jack Harrowven. Lisa had turned them both down—though she’d gone out of her way to be charming in her refusal, and they’d agreed to stay purely friends and colleagues.

Which was just how it should be with Joel Mortimer. Especially as she knew he wasn’t available.

Her body seemed to have other ideas and wasn’t listening to the messages her brain was sending to it. Every time she caught his eye, there was a weird tingle at the base of her spine. Every time he spoke to her, her pulse sped up. Every time his hand brushed against hers when she handed over a set of notes or a piece of equipment, it felt as if an electric shock had gone through her. And it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

You, she told herself silently, need to get a life.

Starting tonight, when she was going out with the team for a Chinese meal.

The little boy’s breathing was ragged, as if he was trying to hold back tears. Lisa glanced swiftly at his notes. She could still remember being nine and how uncool it was to cry, especially for boys. ‘That looks painful,’ she said gently. ‘You’re being very brave, Sam.’

‘Yeah.’ The word was clipped, as if he didn’t trust himself to say any more. Didn’t trust himself not to start howling.

He’d clearly hit the ground hard, at speed, because his sweatshirt was in ribbons. The skin beneath it was lacerated and studded with gravel—it would need proper irrigation or he’d end up with an infection. And Lisa didn’t like the way he was nursing his arm. A dislocation at best—and a fracture at worst. Especially if the fracture involved the epiphyses, the growing ends of the long bones in the body, which could result in the growth plates fusing too early so the arm would be too short when Sam was fully grown. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘Fell off my bike,’ Sam muttered.

‘Tell the doctor the truth,’ his mother said, rolling her eyes.

‘I fell off,’ the boy insisted.

His mother sighed. ‘And you’re not getting any sympathy from me. I’ve told you before you’re not to go near Mr Cooper’s drive. And to wear elbow pads when you’re on your bike. At least you had the sense to keep your cycling helmet on.’ She looked at Lisa. ‘We live in a culde-sac. The boys all race like mad down it and stop just before they hit the old man’s drive at the end. It’s some stupid game where they see who can stop the fastest and the nearest to the gravel. Half the time they come straight over the handlebars. The other half, they skid on the gravel and come off. Just like that.’ She gestured to her son’s arm. ‘We’ve all told the kids not to do it—because it’s not fair to the old man, having them scatter his gravel everywhere, as well as it being dangerous for them—but since when do little boys ever listen to their mothers?’

‘I’m not a little boy. I’m almost a teenager,’ Sam grumbled.

‘You’ve got four years until you’re a teenager. That isn’t “almost”,’ his mother retorted. ‘Now, let the doctor look at your arm.’

‘It hurts,’ Sam said between clenched teeth.

‘I know, sweetheart, and I’ll try to make it stop hurting very soon. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?’ Lisa asked.

He did, but she noticed him flinching.

‘Where did it hurt most?’ she asked.

‘My arm.’

Wrist? Elbow?’

‘All of it.’

‘I really need to examine your arm properly,’ she said gently, ‘because you might have broken something or dislocated a joint. But first I think we need to stop it hurting, and I’ll also need to get all that grit out of your arm so it doesn’t get really sore.’

‘It hurts now.’ His eyes widened as she stepped nearer. ‘Don’t touch it. Please, don’t.’

She smiled at the boy. ‘I could leave it so you can gross out all your mates with the pus that’ll appear over the next day or so, but that’ll hurt an awful lot more in the long run. Trust me, it’ll hurt a lot less and heal much faster if you let me clean it properly now. What I’ll do is numb the area first so you won’t feel any pain.’

His eyes widened. ‘You mean, you’re going to stick a needle into me?’ He dragged in a shaky breath. ‘But they—they hurt!’

‘He had a bit of a bad time when the nurse at the surgery gave him his tetanus jab,’ Sam’s mother explained.

‘Poor you,’ Lisa said sympathetically. ‘But I’m really good at this. I bet you won’t even notice.’

‘I will,’ Sam said, and this time the tears came.

Oh, Lord. The poor kid really must be in pain: boys that age, in her experience, tried to tough it out as much as they could and hated to be treated as a baby. She had to do something—and fast.

‘Hey.’ She took his hand and squeezed it. ‘I know injections can be scary. But I promise you, it won’t hurt. And then all this pain in your arm will stop hurting, too. And did you know I have a special bravery certificate for boys who are being very, very brave like you are right now?’

‘I want to go home,’ he said, hiccuping through his sobs.

‘Give him a cuddle,’ she said softly to Sam’s mother, ‘and I’ll be back in a tick.’ She needed someone who was good at distracting—and that included the mum as well as the little boy. Lisa could understand the woman’s exasperation, because she’d obviously told her son time and time again to be careful on his bike and he hadn’t listened, but right now in her view Sam needed a cuddle more than a lecture. There would be time enough for telling him off later, when he’d stopped hurting.

Lisa twitched back the curtain, and nearly walked straight into Joel. She put both hands up in a gesture of apology. ‘Whoops! Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ Though she was very, very aware of his physical presence. Tall and strong and reliable.

‘No worries. Everything all right?’

This was a very straightforward case and she really shouldn’t be asking a registrar for help with it, but Joel was good at the Sir Galahad bit. And if he did coastguard rescues, he’d probably dealt with a lot of really frightened children—boys around Sam’s age who went out on an inflatable full of bravado but then got trapped by the tide and ended up in tears.

And she’d just bet he’d be able to charm Sam’s mum. No woman would be immune to a smile from a man this gorgeous.

She screwed up her nose. ‘Have you got a minute, Joel?’

‘What’s up?’

She closed the curtain behind her and lowered her voice so her patient and his mother wouldn’t hear. ‘I’ve got a young lad who’s fallen off his bike. His arm’s a bit of a mess—and I’m not sure if he’s broken or dislocated something. He’s a bit chary about letting me look at it, and he’s scared stiff of needles. I need something to distract him so I can get a proper look and work out if he needs an X-ray. And I could really do with getting the mum to stop nagging him.’ She didn’t dare tell Joel she wanted him to use his sex appeal on the mum—because that would be a dead giveaway that she found him sexy. She’d concentrate on the little boy’s needs. ‘Are you good with kids, by any chance?’

Joel gave her an unreadable glance. ‘You could say that.’ Then the odd expression on his face vanished, and he smiled at her. ‘Want me to come and talk him into letting us have a look?’

Oh, yes. That smile would definitely work on Sam’s mum. It had just made her own knees go weak. She nodded. ‘Please.’

‘OK. I’ll distract him and you sort out the business end of the needle—assuming you’re comfortable with that?’

‘Sure. I’ll use a fine needle—and I’ll warm the local an-aesthetic and buffer it.’ That would help to make the injection less painful, and if Joel could keep Sam distracted she could inject the anaesthetic really slowly, which made it easier for children to tolerate. The last thing she wanted to do was make the little boy’s fear of needles worse.

Joel followed her back into the cubicle and allowed her to introduce him to Sam and his mother.

Within seconds Joel had Sam laughing at a stream of silly jokes and had drawn him into talking about his favourite football team. Lisa prepared a syringe, waited for Joel’s signal and swiftly eased the needle into place.

Sam was so busy telling Joel about the last football match he’d gone to with his dad he barely noticed what Lisa was doing. Gently she removed the needle and nodded to Joel.

‘Right, then, Super Sam. Going to let us look at that arm now?’ Joel asked.

‘I…’ The little boy went white. ‘You’re not going to put a needle in me now, are you?’

‘No. Because I’ve already done it,’ Lisa said quietly.

He stared at her, clearly surprised. ‘But…but I didn’t feel a thing!’

‘Told you I was good at this.’ She winked at him. ‘I’m a doctor. I don’t tell fibs. Any second now your arm’s going to stop hurting.’

Sam’s mother smiled in relief. Now Sam had stopped making a fuss, she seemed to have calmed down, too. Or maybe—as Lisa suspected—she’d been so stunned by how good-looking Joel was that she’d forgotten to be angry with her son. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘That’s what we’re here for. Now, let’s have a look at that arm.’ Gently, Joel examined the boy and Lisa noted the way he was checking Sam’s pulse and hand for any circulatory or neural problems. The discoloration of Sam’s skin, the swelling and the odd angle of his arm made Lisa think the little boy had a fracture. Joel clearly thought so too because he said, ‘I’m pretty sure you’ve broken your arm, so I’m going to send you for an X-ray to see what’s happened.’

‘Will it mean I have to have a plaster?’ Sam asked.

‘Yup. Though what sort of plaster depends on the type of fracture,’ Joel said. ‘And I need to know what sort of fracture it is before we can make it better. Do you know what an X-ray is?’

‘Yes, we did it at school. It’s like a camera and it shows your bones.’

‘That’s right. And the best thing is, it doesn’t hurt,’ Joel said with a smile.

‘I’ll get you booked in and clean up your arm while we’re waiting for a free slot on the X-ray machines,’ Lisa said.

‘All right,’ Sam said, perking up.

The local anaesthetic was working, she thought. Clearly the pain had eased, and Sam had turned from a sullen child into a chatty, interested little boy.

‘Can I see my X-ray?’ he asked.

‘Of course you can. Do you think you might want to be a doctor when you grow up?’

‘And have a white coat and stethoscope like yours? Mmm. I think I’d like to make people better. But not if someone’s sick over me.’ Sam pulled a face. ‘It smells disgusting when someone throws up at school. The classroom stinks for ages afterwards. And it always looks like chopped carrots. Gross!’

Lisa laughed. ‘I’m afraid we get quite a bit of that in here.’ Particularly on Friday and Saturday nights, when people tended to overdo things in the pubs and clubs.

Sam looked disappointed. ‘Oh. Maybe I won’t be a doctor, then.’

‘I’ll be back in two ticks, when I’ve booked you in,’ Lisa said, ‘and then we’ll get all the gunge out of your arm.’

Joel left the cubicles with her.

‘Thanks for that,’ she said. ‘It really helped.’

‘No worries.’

Just what he’d said when he’d rescued her on the hill. She smiled wryly. ‘You seem to be making a habit of this.’

‘Of what?’

‘Rescuing me,’ Lisa said. ‘First on that hill, now today when I needed help with a scared kid and a mum who’d lost her patience. I owe you.’

‘Hey, everyone gets the odd case where they need help. We’re a team here. Anyway, you’ll probably return the favour by the end of the week. Kids I can do. Geriatric men—now, they loathe me.’

‘Yeah, right,’ she said with a grin. She couldn’t imagine anyone loathing Joel Mortimer. There was just something about him: he was the sort men would want to be their friend and women would want to be their lover. Those gorgeous eyes…She could just imagine them, slightly hooded, looking at her across a crowded room. A private signal, telling her exactly what he was going to do when they were alone…

Oh, lord. She needed to get her thoughts under control. Fast. Joel wasn’t free and she didn’t do relationships anyway. And fantasising about the man who was practically her boss would definitely end in tears.

‘Just call me if you need me,’ Joel said.

Down, girl, Lisa scolded her libido silently. She wasn’t going to make a move on Joel Mortimer. Even if he did have the most beautiful eyes in the world and a sensual mouth that made her quiver. ‘Thanks,’ she said, in the most professional tones she could muster, and went to book Sam’s X-ray before she said something really stupid to Joel.

She cleaned all the grit out of Sam’s arm while they were waiting for the slot in Radiology and immobilised his arm in a sling. She asked for two films—one lateral and one antero-posterior, both including the joints and covering the entire radius and ulna so she didn’t miss any problems—and was just checking them against a lightbox when Joel came up beside her. ‘How’s it looking?’

‘Greenstick,’ she said, showing him the section on the X-ray where it was clear that one side of the ulna shaft had bent while the other side had broken. ‘I’m just checking in case there’s an ephiphysal injury. It looks normal, but…’

‘Worried about a Salter-Harris type V?’ Joel asked.

She nodded. With a Salter-Harris Type V injury—also known as a crush injury to the growing plate—the X-ray could look absolutely normal. It was notoriously difficult to diagnose the injury, but it had the greatest risk of causing the growth plates to fuse prematurely so the limb would always be too short.

‘It’s very rare,’ Joel reassured her, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the films. ‘And it’s more common on the distal tibia. It’s much more likely you’d find a Salter-Harris II fracture—’ this was where the epiphysis separated from the bone, with a shape almost like a reverse tick ‘—but it looks as if he’s been lucky.’ He traced the outline of the cortex: a procedure Lisa had been taught to do as a house officer to make sure she didn’t miss a subtle fracture by mistaking it for an ossification centre on the growing bone. ‘Anything else you’d be worried about?’

‘With an ulnar fracture, you need to check for a Monteggia fracture-dislocation,’ she said. If you fell onto your ulna, as Sam had done, you could dislocate the head of the radius, the other main bone of the forearm, and the dislocation needed to be treated as well as the fracture. ‘But there aren’t any signs of it on the X-rays.’

‘Agreed. This looks like a pretty straightforward case. What’s your treatment plan?’ Joel asked.

She didn’t mind the questions, because she knew he was doing his job. She was his junior, he hadn’t worked with her much, and he needed to know how competent she was—how far he could trust her to deal with patients on her own or whether she needed closer supervision. ‘It’s an angulated fracture, so I’ll refer him to the orthopods for manipulation under a general anaesthetic. He’ll have a cast on for a while, and I assume you have fracture clinics here in Paeds so I can get him booked in there for a follow-up.’

‘Yup. Obviously you know what you’re doing and you’re sensible enough to ask if you need help. Carry on just as you are,’ he said with a smile.

‘Cheers.’ Before she could stop herself, she added, ‘Are you coming out with the team for the Chinese meal tonight?’

‘No.’ His voice was noticeably cooler. And he didn’t offer an explanation, she noticed.

Not that she should expect one. He was a colleague—a senior colleague; he was barely an acquaintance, let alone a friend, and he didn’t have to explain himself to her. Really, she shouldn’t even have asked. It was none of her business.

‘Um, I’ll get back to my patient,’ she said, and escaped back into the cubicle to show Sam his X-rays, as promised, and explain to him and his mother what was going to happen next.

Lisa didn’t see Joel to speak to for the rest of the afternoon, and she’d put it out of her mind when she met the others at the local Chinese restaurant that evening.

‘So how are you settling in?’ Nell, the other registrar in their ward, asked Lisa.

‘Fine.’ Lisa smiled back at her. ‘Everyone’s really friendly, and I love my job.’

‘So much that you volunteer for extra duties on your day off,’ Julie said. ‘On the air ambulance.’

Lisa blinked. ‘Blimey. The hospital grapevine here’s pretty fast, isn’t it?’ She hadn’t said anything to anyone in the department, not wanting to sound…well…boastful. Setting herself up either as a heroine or a martyr. That wasn’t where she was coming from at all. She had her own reasons for doing her rescue work—reasons she didn’t want to share. And she enjoyed doing it, too.

Julie chuckled. ‘My boyfriend Marty’s one of the full-time paramedics with the air ambulance. He saw your name on the list and asked me if I knew you. Your first duty’s next week, isn’t it?’

Lisa couldn’t help smiling. ‘Yes. I’m doing two slots a month. I’m really glad they accepted me, because I was on secondment to HEMS in London, and I loved every second of it. Though we could only do a six-month stint so we weren’t over-exposed to trauma.’

‘Rather you than me. I don’t know how you do it.’ Julie shivered. ‘Winching out of a helicopter into thin air…No way would you get me doing that!’

‘It’s fine, once you get used to the idea,’ Lisa said. ‘You’re perfectly safe.You’re clipped into a harness, and when you go up with a stretcher, it’s pretty smooth—you don’t spin around on a rope and you don’t even feel the downdraught from the blades. It’s not like these action movies where you see someone hanging onto a ladder and blowing around madly in the wind.’ She grinned. ‘Oh, and you don’t have all the baddies firing at you or have to dive through plate glass into a skyscraper, run out the other side and leap onto the rope ladder from several hundred feet up feet up.’

Julie laughed. ‘Nope, you still haven’t convinced me. I’d rather keep my feet firmly on the ground in the department!’

‘If you’re working with the air ambulance, you’ll end up doing a rescue with the coastguard team at some point, then,’ Ben, one of the other house officers, said to her.

‘Not necessarily. You know as well as I do most of the work of the air ambulance is with RTCs or falls,’ Julie said.

Not surprising, Lisa thought. Road traffic collisions, falls and suspected heart attacks were the most common reason for callouts in all the air ambulance services, usually in cases where it would take too long for a land ambulance to get through or the access to an accident site was poor.

‘But Ben’s right, we do get a few rescues on the cliffs and sea rescues. Joel’ll introduce you to the coastguard team, if you ask him,’ Nell suggested.

Lisa remembered what Joel had told her earlier. ‘It’s a bit unusual, a doctor being a volunteer coastguard.’

‘It probably makes him feel he’s giving something back,’ Ben said quietly.

Lisa frowned. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘His wife died in an accident on the cliffs,’ Nell explained.

It took a moment for it to sink in.

Joel wasn’t committed elsewhere.

But he was so young to be a widower—he couldn’t be more than in his early thirties. Obviously with his work on the coastguard team he was trying to make sure someone else didn’t have to suffer the same kind of loss—just as she was, with the air ambulance.

Then she became aware that Nell was continuing. ‘That’s why he doesn’t work nights or weekends.’

‘Sorry, Nell. I didn’t catch what you said. Joel doesn’t do nights or weekends?’ Lisa prompted.

‘Childminders don’t tend to do weekends and nights, and his parents are getting on a bit so they don’t help out that much. Actually, to be honest, they were pretty hopeless when it happened,’ Nell confided, ‘and Vanessa’s parents live the other side of the Pennines so they’re no help either. Beth’s a lovely kid but she can be a bit…well…demanding. As any kid would be when there’s only one parent around.’

Oh. So Beth was Joel’s daughter. And he was a single parent. Lisa flushed. ‘Oh, no. I really put my foot in it today. I asked him if he was good with kids.’

‘He is. And you weren’t to know,’ Ben said with a sympathetic smile.

‘How old is she?’ Lisa asked.

‘Five. The accident happened a couple of years back.’

So Beth had been three when she’d lost her mum. It had been hard enough for herself at the age of sixteen, but three was so young. How tough it must be for Beth, seeing all her friends with a mummy and daddy—or even a step-parent—and wondering why she was different. ‘Rough on her. Poor kid.’

‘Yeah. But Joel’s made it clear he’s not looking for a mother figure for her,’ Nell said.

‘Warning received and understood,’ Lisa said quietly. More than Nell would ever know. Because she understood exactly where Joel was coming from, too. She’d learned it well from her mother’s example: nobody would ever match up to the man Ella Richardson had lost, and she’d loved him too much to want anyone else in her life.

Joel clearly felt exactly the same way about his late wife. So he was the last man on earth Lisa should want to get involved with.

‘Joel’s a lovely bloke. Salt of the earth. He’ll do anything to help anyone. All I’m saying is, there’s no point in any woman falling for him—gorgeous as he is—because no way will he let anyone into his life,’ Nell said. ‘Even though it would do him good.’ She sighed. ‘You can’t live in the past. You have to move on, eventually.’

Ha. It had been twelve years, and Ella hadn’t moved on. Lisa had the feeling that she never would. ‘Some people just love one person too much to have room for anyone else,’ Lisa said softly.

‘Maybe.’ Nell grimaced. ‘Sorry, this is a bit of a miserable conversation for a Monday night. Especially as we’re supposed to be welcoming you to the team.’ She topped up Lisa’s glass. ‘Ignore me. I didn’t mean to imply that you’d throw yourself at him. I mean, you might be married.’

Lisa chuckled at the obvious fishing. ‘Actually, I’m single. And that’s the way I like it. I’ve got a career to think of.’

‘Make sure you never sit in our receptionist’s chair, then,’ Ben warned darkly. ‘Every woman who’s sat there for the last three years has been married and off on maternity leave before you can blink!’

‘Oi, you, don’t start spreading rumours. I’m not pregnant,’ Ally, the receptionist, called across the table. ‘And I don’t even have a boyfriend!’

Ben tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger. ‘Just you wait. Give it six months, and you’ll be getting your gran to knit you lots of bootees. That chair’s got a reputation.’

Lisa laughed. ‘Thanks for the warning. I’ll remember that.’ Though she wasn’t planning on getting pregnant or even getting involved with anyone any time soon.

If ever.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DADDY, you look growly,’ Beth said.

Joel ruffled her hair. ‘I’m fine, kitten.’ Actually, he wasn’t fine. Far from it. But he had no intention of worrying his daughter. ‘Come on. Let’s go to school.’ Being on late shift meant that Beth was usually ready for bed when he picked her up from Hannah, her childminder, so he didn’t get time for more than a bedtime story—and most of the time she fell asleep before he’d finished. But the good thing about late shifts was that instead of having to get her ready for school and dropping her off at Hannah’s at the crack of dawn, he was able to take her to school himself. Which meant he saw her smiling, meeting her friends in the playground and running around with them, playing some sort of game or other. He could see for himself that she was happy and well adjusted and settled.

Days like these, he thought maybe he was doing an OK job of being a single parent. That Beth was coping fine without having a mum.

And then the guilt would press down on him. Squash him flat. If he’d taken proper care of Vanessa in the first place…

Guilt that was doubly compounded by the X-rated dreams he’d had for the last week or so. Dreams about a certain SHO with an elfin face, mischievous blue eyes, straightforward manner and infectious smile. Dreams he had no right to have.

He certainly shouldn’t have felt possessive when the coastguard crew had been discussing the new air ambulance doctor who’d attended the incident where a kid had got stuck in a hole when the tide had been on its way in, and how gorgeous she was. He shouldn’t have wanted to snarl at them to leave her alone because she was already spoken for—by him. Because she wasn’t. Lisa Richardson was a free spirit, someone who owed him nothing. Someone he couldn’t expect to give up her single lifestyle and take on his commitments.

‘Daddy?’

‘Coming, sweetheart.’ He managed to focus on his daughter until the classroom door opened, she kissed him goodbye and followed her schoolfriends inside. And then he stomped back to their cottage.

Why couldn’t he get Lisa Richardson out of his head?

This was the first time in two years that any woman other than Vanessa had haunted his dreams. The first time in two years that he’d felt that pull of attraction. The first time in two years that he’d been aware of someone walking into a room even when his back was turned to the door.

But he couldn’t let himself act on it. Couldn’t take that risk again. It wasn’t just his heart in danger: it was Beth’s. And Lisa’s, too, when he turned out to be Mr Wrong and let her down.

He blitzed the house, hoping that the action of scrubbing things clean again would scrub all thoughts of Lisa from his head. They’d worked together for a month, now, and although he thought she was a fine doctor—soothing the patients without being patronising, then treating them efficiently and effectively—she was completely wrong for him.

Number one, she worked in the same department, and inter-departmental relationships were always bad news for the rest of the team.

Number two, she could be engaged or even married, as far as he knew.

Ha. Who was he trying to kid? Ben had already mentioned that Lisa was available. And that she’d turned Jack Harrowven and Mark down when they’d asked her out. And he really shouldn’t have been quite so pleased about that.

Number three…Oh, come on. Surely he could think of a third reason. He should be able to think of a dozen reasons why seeing Lisa would be a bad idea. Between Beth, work and the coastguard, there wasn’t any room for a relationship in his life.

And it was completely irrelevant that he saw Lisa at work and sometimes when he was volunteering. On her last duty on the air ambulance, he’d actually worked with her: he’d helped her strap a casualty into a stretcher and checked her line before she’d been winched up from his lifeboat.

He scrubbed harder at the limescale in the shower. He was not going to think about Lisa Richardson. Or speculate how soft her skin might be. Or wonder how it would feel to have that beautiful mouth tracking down his body…

But it didn’t work. He just couldn’t get her out of his head. So he was still in a bad mood by the time he started his shift.

A mood that worsened by mid-afternoon, when he was called to see a patient who’d been in a car accident and was complaining of abdominal pain. A patient who was six months pregnant: just like Vanessa had been when she’d died.

Part of him was tempted to give the case to someone else, someone who could cope with this sort of situation without any memories to cloud their judgement. But then his training kicked in. He was a senior doctor in the department. This was his job. He had to keep his emotions separate. Memories and sentiment had no place in an emergency department. He had to focus on the people who needed him. His patients.

He walked into the cubicle. ‘Mrs Patterson?’

The woman on the bed was shaking uncontrollably. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand. ‘I’m Joel Mortimer, the registrar in the department. Can you tell me what happened?’

‘I was in traffic. In a queue, waiting for someone to turn right. And someone rammed straight into the back of me.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘And now—now I can’t feel my baby moving. And my stomach hurts. And I’m wet—between…’ She shuddered. ‘Between my legs,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s too early. My waters can’t have broken yet. They just can’t.’

‘Try not to worry too much until I’ve examined you,’ Joel said gently. ‘Babies are pretty hardy, and they’re fairly well cushioned inside you. Does it hurt anywhere else?’ He was half expecting her to describe whiplash injuries.

‘No, just my stomach.’

Could be panic. But if her stomach had hit the steering-wheel and the wetness was blood…

Joel had a bad feeling about this. At the handover the paramedics had mentioned impact against the steering-wheel: not hard enough to trigger the airbag, but clearly hard enough to have hurt Mrs Patterson. He had a nasty feeling this could be a placental abruption—and a bad tear could be an emergency for the mother as well as the baby.

‘I’m going to examine you, if that’s all right with you, and meanwhile I’ll get a portable scanner brought in so we can take a look at the baby and see what’s going on.’ And, please, please, it would be just panic that was making her unable to feel the foetal movements. He’d do an ultrasound and the baby would be visible on screen, kicking away as if nothing had ever happened.

‘Don’t let me lose my baby,’ Mrs Patterson begged. ‘Please, don’t.’

If it was a major abruption, there might not be much choice. Not at twenty-six weeks. Very pre-term babies could survive in Special Care, but often it took months and months of heartache and worry, and the babies were often left with long-term problems. His heart ached for her. ‘We’ll do our best for you,’ Joel promised. ‘I’m going to order that scanner. I’ll be back in three minutes, tops. Start counting the seconds—I want you to take a big breath in while you say “one second” in your head, and then a big breath out while you say “one second”. Can you do that for me?’ He knew from experience that counting breaths would help to calm her, and concentrating on a simple task would help to distract her from her panic.

She nodded, and began to take deeper, longer breaths.

‘That’s perfect,’ Joel said with an encouraging smile. He was gone for just long enough to ask one of the staff nurses to get him a scanner, page the maternity registrar and order four units of O-negative blood as a matter of urgency, and then went straight back to Mrs Patterson.

‘I’m going to examine you now,’ he said gently. ‘Just tell me if anything’s uncomfortable or if you need me to stop. Don’t worry about being embarrassed or feeling silly—I’m here to look after you, and how you’re feeling is the most important thing right now.’

But he wasn’t happy with what he saw. Mrs Patterson had a small vaginal bleed—the blood was dark red and clotted—but she was starting to look slightly shocky, out of proportion to the amount of blood she’d lost. Her blood pressure was low, too. All the signs were pointing to a placental abruption—the impact from the car accident could have caused part of the placenta to tear away from the wall of the uterus. In cases of minor placental abruptions, the patient could often go home to rest and the tear would repair itself over the next few days. But with a major placental abruption, it could mean an immediate Caesarean section in an attempt to save the mother’s life as well as that of the baby.

Joel had a really bad feeling about this one.

Particularly when he couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat either.

Maybe the baby was lying awkwardly and that was why he couldn’t pick up the heartbeat. But he’d feel a hell of a lot better when the portable ultrasound scanner arrived and he could see what was going on. Not to mention having the obstetric specialist on hand.

‘Is my baby all right?’ Mrs Patterson asked, her voice rasping and shuddery with fear.

He didn’t want to panic her. But he didn’t want to lie either. ‘Try not to worry,’ he said softly. ‘I’m going to chase that scanner.’

To his relief, Jack Harrowven, the senior registrar from the maternity unit, was already walking into the department. Joel took him to one side and gave him a quick rundown on the case. ‘I think it’s an abruption. A big one. We’re waiting for the portable scanner, but I can’t hear the baby’s heartbeat.’

‘Oh, hell,’ Jack said. ‘Doesn’t sound good.’

‘It might be the way the baby’s lying,’ Joel said.

Jack shook his head. ‘If the mum can’t feel movement either, that’s not a good sign.’

Joel took a deep breath, showed Jack to Mrs Patterson’s cubicle and introduced him to the patient. The scanner arrived at the same time.

‘Please. Don’t let my baby die,’ Mrs Patterson begged again.

‘We’ll do our best,’ Jack said. ‘Can you pull your top up a little bit for me? I’m going to put some gel on your stomach, and then we’ll see what’s happening.’

‘Mrs Patterson, I’ve been called to see another patient,’ Joel said, ‘but I’m leaving you in the best possible hands. Jack’s the best obstetrician I know.’ He smiled at her. ‘He delivered my daughter.’

Though as he left he glanced at the screen. And what he saw told him that even an obstetrician as good as Jack wouldn’t be able to do much.

Ah, hell. He knew all about how bad it felt to lose a baby at six months’ gestation. Vanessa hadn’t survived the accident. And neither had Beth’s little brother: at twenty-four weeks, he’d been just too tiny.

Life, he thought savagely, really sucked sometimes.

‘You all right?’ Lisa asked when he almost walked straight into her in the corridor.

‘Fine,’ he lied, his voice clipped.

‘You don’t look it. Bad case?’ Without waiting for an answer, she added, ‘Why don’t you take five minutes, have a coffee or something?’

Because he needed to keep busy. If he took five minutes, right now, he’d remember far too much. Feel the pain rolling over him yet again. Get sucked back into the dark days. He couldn’t afford that to happen. Not here, not now, not ever. He gritted his teeth. ‘Thank you, Dr Richardson, but I take orders from my consultant, not my SHO.’

Her eyes widened with hurt. ‘But I wasn’t ordering you. It was just a suggestion because you look a bit…well…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have patients to see.’ He brushed her aside and strode off, aware that he was behaving appallingly but unable to stop himself. Right now he was way, way too close to the edge.

Later that afternoon, the news filtered through the department that Mrs Patterson had lost her baby. As soon as Lisa realised that Mrs Patterson had been Joel’s patient, she could guess why Joel had looked so rattled. And why he’d bitten her head off. Cases where babies or children didn’t make it were always hard, but even more so for doctors and nurses who had children of their own—and that was intensified for single parents. Lisa didn’t know the details of Joel’s wife’s accident, but if it had been in a car this had probably reminded him of it.

She hated to think of him sitting in his office, dealing with paperwork and just hurting. Being buffeted by memories. She’d been there often enough. Every time she had to attend a traffic accident with the air ambulance, or dealt with the fallout in Resus, the memory knifed through her for an instant before she pushed it away, reminded herself that she was a professional and dealt with the case. It must be just as tough for Joel. Tougher, really, because it had only been a couple of years ago; she’d had twelve years to get used to her own loss.

On impulse, when her shift finished, she went over to his office and knocked on his door.

‘Yes?’

His tone was still slightly curt, but she ignored it and walked in. Closed the door behind her.

He looked at her, not smiling. ‘What can I do for you, Dr Richardson?’

He’d still got that barrier up between them, then. Until this afternoon he’d called her by her first name. They had been a team. Well, she wasn’t going to let him put her off now. When she had moments like these, she really needed other people around her. Someone to pull her back from the fear. ‘I wondered if you’d like a coffee or anything, Joel.’ She deliberately used his first name.

‘No, thanks. I’m catching up with my paperwork.’

And the look he gave her said very clearly that she was holding him up. ‘When you’ve finished, then. Maybe we can go for a drink or something.’ And maybe he’d talk to her. Talking had always helped her in the past.

He frowned. ‘A drink? Lisa, you need to understand I’m not in the market for a relationship.’

He thought she was asking him out? She scoffed. ‘Actually, I wasn’t asking you for a relationship. I was asking you out as a colleague who can see you’ve had a rough day—the kind of day when it might help to talk to someone who understands. I meant a drink, as in coffee or something. Nothing else.’

‘Oh.’ He didn’t apologise, though colour slashed across his cheekbones so clearly he knew he was in the wrong. ‘Sorry, I need to be somewhere.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Like now.’

Of course. His little girl. She should have thought. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have held you up. Goodnight.’

Lisa had closed the door behind her before Joel had a chance to say anything. He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He’d been a first-class bastard, snapping at her and leaping to conclusions—stupid conclusions. Of course she hadn’t been asking him out. She’d just seen him as a colleague who’d had a rough day and wanted to make him feel better. He’d been projecting his own thoughts onto her—his own ridiculous desire for a relationship with her.

And he’d overreacted. Big time. Had pushed her away as hard as he could, because there was something about Lisa Richardson that made him really want her. And he wasn’t in a position to offer her any sort of relationship.

Ah, hell. He’d apologise tomorrow. Explain that the case had brought back memories for him and he shouldn’t have taken it out on her.

Though wild horses wouldn’t drag from him the fact that he’d pushed her away for another reason—to keep temptation at bay.

He saved the file he’d been working on and shut down the computer, then headed for Hannah’s to pick up Beth. She fell asleep in the car, as she always did when he was on a late shift; he carried her to bed, tucked her in, and stood watching her for a moment. Sometimes she looked so like Vanessa when she was sleeping that it hurt.

But he’d never let his daughter down the way he’d let his wife down. She’d come first in his life. Always.

The next morning, he dropped Beth at Hannah’s, then made a swift detour into the hospital shop on his way to the department. Flowers? No. Too ostentatious. And it might give the wrong message. He wanted something that said sorry in a colleague-like fashion.

Every medic he knew loved chocolate. So it was a pretty safe bet.

He bought the nicest box the shop had, then headed for his office, grabbed a sticky note from his desk and scribbled her a quick note. Sorry. Bad day yesterday. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Cheers, Joel.

Yep. That would do. It sounded like a note from a colleague, not a lover.

Lover.

Nope, he had to push that word right out of his head. He wasn’t going to be Lisa’s lover. No matter how much his body wanted him to.

He went swiftly to the restroom. Her locker was—of course—locked. Great. He knew she was never late for her shift—that meant she had to be on a late shift. He’d try to catch her just before she started, then. With a sigh he returned to his office, shoved the chocolates in a drawer, then went out to see the night staff for the handover to his shift.

Facing Joel was something Lisa really didn’t want to do. She’d spent most of the previous night feeling hideously embarrassed. He’d actually thought she’d been asking him out on a date. That she fancied him.

The worst thing about it was, he was right. She did fancy him. She just wasn’t going to do anything about it. Because she had a feeling that, if she let him, Joel Mortimer could be very, very important in her life. And she wasn’t going to make her mother’s mistakes. Wasn’t going to love someone so much that the world stopped without them.

She’d just changed her shoes and locked her locker door when Joel strode into the restroom, his hands behind his back. He looked like one of the consultants you saw on TV dramas, ordering a junior doctor, ‘Walk with me,’ so he could explain some esoteric procedure or other. Cool and distant and clever.

‘Morning,’ he said.

‘Morning,’ she replied coolly.

‘Lisa—look, I owe you an apology. I was incredibly rude to you yesterday. You were being kind, a good colleague, and I…’ He grimaced. ‘Well, I shouldn’t take out my personal problems on my team.’

Oh, lord. Just when she’d been prepared to be an ice queen, he said something to melt her. The more so because he was so obviously sincere.

He coughed. ‘Um—this is by way of an apology.’ He drew his hands from behind his back and handed her a large brown paper bag.

She peered inside, and smiled. ‘You didn’t need to do that, Joel—but thank you. Apology accepted. And if you’re going to give me chocolates every time you have a bad day, I could be tempted to send every male geriatric who walks into the department your way.’

He laughed, clearly remembering that he’d told her elderly male patients loathed him. ‘Just you try it. I’ll make you deal with the really gory stuff.’

‘I can do gory.’ She’d attended enough accidents with the air ambulance in the past. She smiled. ‘But I could do with learning a few of those bad jokes of yours for the next time I get a nine-year-old who needs distracting.’

‘Done.’

Lord, he was gorgeous when he smiled. That slight quirk to his mouth, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the way his eyes turned almost pure gold. It made her want to reach out, touch his face. Run her thumb along his lower lip.

What would it be like to slide her fingers through those black, glossy curls and draw his head down to hers? Would his face be smooth, or would there be the faintest hint of stubble grazing against her fingertips as she stroked his skin? How would it feel when he kissed her—when his mouth brushed against hers, exploring, teasing, inciting, demanding a response?

It would be so easy to find out. All she’d have to do would be to slide her hand behind his neck and draw his face down to hers, brush her mouth against his and—

No. He’d made it clear they were just colleagues. She needed to get herself back under control. Like now. ‘I’d, er, better show my face at Reception. Thanks again for the chocolates.’

‘Pleasure.’

And she escaped before she did something really stupid.

Like kissing him.

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