The Doctor's Engagement. Sarah Morgan

we were in love?’

      They wandered back inside and Mark locked the French windows. ‘About a month ago? That fits with what I told Caroline. When I moved down here to work, we realised how much we missed each other and how in love we were. How does that sound?’

      ‘And we got engaged immediately?’ Holly bit her lip and Mark shrugged his broad shoulders.

      ‘Of course. Why not? We’d already known each other for ever so there was hardly any need to hang around. All of a sudden we discovered we were madly in love—cue the violins—I proposed, you accepted and that was that.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘Where what?’ Mark grabbed her suitcases from the hall and lugged them up the staircase, the muscles in his arms bunching under the weight.

      ‘Where did you propose?’

      ‘Holly, no one is going to ask a question like that,’ he protested, slinging both suitcases into his bedroom. ‘Let’s store your stuff in my room and just use yours for sleeping.’

      ‘Fine. But, Mark, they will ask.’ Holly flicked open a bulging suitcase and started unpacking. ‘People are interested in that sort of thing. Especially women.’

      He sighed. ‘Well, where would you want to be proposed to?’

      Holly tipped her head to one side and thought carefully. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone enough to get to the proposal stage. But this was just make-believe, she reminded herself. So what was her dream? She closed her eyes.

      ‘On a beach,’ she breathed. ‘Just the two of us. Twilight.’

      ‘Sandy or pebbles?’

      Her eyes flew open. ‘What?’

      ‘The beach,’ he prompted, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘Sandy or pebbles?’

      ‘Mark, for goodness’ sake!’

      ‘You wanted detail,’ he pointed out, ‘so sandy or pebbles? Can we make it sandy? I don’t want bruised knees if I’m proposing in traditional style.’

      ‘Wimp.’ She laughed, her green eyes dancing. ‘All right. Sandy.’

      ‘But where was this beach? We can’t say it was Cornwall or they’ll all be offended that they weren’t introduced to you before.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘So perhaps I took you somewhere incredibly romantic to propose. Somewhere close enough for us to have slipped away for a weekend without people getting suspicious. How do you fancy Corsica?’

      ‘Very much.’ Holly laughed. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ She clapped her hand over her mouth and Mark lifted an eyebrow.

      ‘Now what?’

      ‘A ring!’ She stared at him. ‘Caroline asked me about it and I made some feeble excuse. We hadn’t thought of a ring.’

      ‘I had.’ Mark strode across the bedroom and rummaged in a drawer, retrieving a small black box. ‘Here we are. I hope it fits.’

      Holly opened the box and gasped at the stunning diamond that glinted at her. ‘Mark, I can’t wear this! It’s real!’

      ‘Of course it’s real.’ He gave her a taste of that grin that always had women drooling over him. ‘You don’t think I’d give my fiancée a fake, do you?’

      She licked her lips. ‘But...’

      His smile faded and he brushed her cheek with his finger.

      ‘It was my grandmother’s,’ he said quietly. ‘She gave it to me to give to the woman who finally made me give up bachelor status.’

      Holly stared at the ring. ‘Mark, what if you meet someone you—you like and you’re pretending to be engaged to me—what will you do?’

      ‘Let’s just say that, after my experiences with Zoe, I’m avoiding relationships for a while.’

      Holly gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry that didn’t work out,’ she said gruffly, and Mark gave a careless shrug.

      ‘I’m not. She was gorgeous to look at but distinctly lacking in other qualities. She definitely had a short shelf life.’

      Holly frowned disapprovingly. ‘Mark! That’s an awful thing to say.’

      ‘No, it isn’t,’ he disagreed calmly. ‘She was no more in love with me than I was in love with her. I never once misled her about my intentions.’

      Which, knowing Mark, would have been purely physical. Holly felt her cheeks warm.

      ‘Glad to hear you’re still a virgin, too,’ she murmured dryly, and he gave her a broad grin that was totally male.

      ‘You know me, babe—pure as the driven snow.’

      ‘Oh, yes!’ She rolled her eyes to indicate what she thought of that statement. ‘Try not to break too many hearts, Mark.’

      ‘Me?’ He pretended to look hurt. ‘I’m always very kind to women.’

      He was certainly kind to her but, then, she’d never been in love with him. She glanced at the ring and took it out of the box carefully, slipping it onto the third finger of her left hand.

      ‘It fits.’

      ‘You’re right. It fits perfectly.’ A strange look crossed Mark’s face as he lifted her hand and examined the ring. ‘What about you, Holl? What if you meet Mr Right while you’re wearing my ring?’

      ‘Mr Right is always in a different place when I’m around.’ Holly twisted the diamond on her finger and Mark gave a low curse and hugged her. ‘You’ll tell me about it one day and I’ll sort him out.’

      ‘Don’t be silly!’ She pushed him away. ‘Talking of which, are you still doing judo?’

      ‘Not since I left London,’ he admitted, ‘but I could still get the better of the louse. Just give me his name.’

      ‘There is no name.’ Holly smiled. ‘Stop playing boy hero and let’s finish our cover story. We got engaged, and then what? When are we getting married?’

      Mark frowned. ‘Can’t we leave that open? It’ll make it easier when we have to break up anyway. Just say that it depends on our jobs and that sort of thing.’

      ‘I suppose that sounds all right.’ Holly shrugged. ‘In that case I’ll go and get ready. How dressy is the yacht club?’

      Mark reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of fawn trousers and a pristine white shirt. ‘Quite dressy.’

      Which meant digging through her rather limited wardrobe to find something that would suit Mark’s ‘fiancée’. Normally the man dated models and women who spent half their days in beauty salons. Holly glanced down at her short, practical nails in despair. She just wasn’t Mark’s type. How was she ever going to be convincing?

      * * *

      The yacht club was situated just beyond the fishing village with views across the headland and the estuary.

      Mark pulled into the car park and Holly grinned as he parked his beloved sports car carefully by a low wall.

      ‘Have you ever found a woman you love as much as this car?’ she teased, and he pulled a face.

      ‘Definitely not.’ He looked across at her and his eyes narrowed. ‘By the way, you look great. That colour suits you.’

      She was wearing a strappy, green silk dress that looked good with her blonde hair and showed more than a hint of bare leg. As they walked into the yacht club, female heads turned to look at Mark and Holly was doubly glad that she’d made an effort with her appearance.

      The restaurant was already filling up and Mark smiled and lifted a hand to a man sitting at one of the best tables.

      ‘There’s