His Honourable Surgeon. Kate Hardy

for running out on you over breakfast this morning.’

      He shrugged. ‘No problem. You were paged.’

      ‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked.

      Then he realised what was going on. Vicky had made a fuss over little Declan, who’d been bullied. She’d fussed over Violet, too, but on the old lady’s terms—practical things, like bringing her a puzzle magazine. And now she was quietly adding him to her collection of lame ducks, bringing him cake and offering him a sympathetic ear.

      ‘I’m fine,’ he said stiffly.

      ‘No, you’re not. It’s something to do with Violet.’

      How did she know?

      She must have been able to read his mind, because she said quietly, ‘She got to me, too. I never really knew my grandparents because they died when I was very young. Violet’s the kind I would’ve liked as a gran.’ Her smile was suddenly bleak.

      Jake knew exactly where she was coming from. The same place as him. Loss and loneliness. ‘She reminds me of my nan,’ he admitted.

      ‘You were close to her?’

      He nodded. ‘She brought me up. My mum was a singer and Dad was her manager. They were always on the road, and Nan refused to let them drag me along with a home tutor or put me in boarding school. She said kids need a steady place to grow up.’ He looked away. ‘They were in America, flying interstate on my mum’s first US tour, when their plane crashed.’

      He was half expecting Vicky to trot out the usual platitudes or try to work out who his mum was, but she surprised him. ‘Hard for you. How old were you?’

      ‘Twelve.’

      ‘That’s a really tough age to lose your parents.’

      Something in her voice made him look at her. The expression on her face…she knew exactly how it had felt. It had happened to one of her schoolfriends, probably. Another of her lame ducks.

      ‘Yeah. But at least I had Nan.’ Then, to his horror, the words he’d tried to bury whispered out of him. ‘I just wish she’d seen me qualify.’

      ‘Missed it by much?’

      ‘Two terms.’

      ‘Ouch. But, if it helps, she’d have known from your prelims that you’d qualify.’

      At least Vicky hadn’t gushed that his gran would have been proud of him. He appreciated that, because how did you ever know exactly how someone else felt—especially if you’d never met that person? That kind of reaction always drove him crazy.

      Vicky Radley, on the other hand, was calm, practical and sensible.

      He took a sip of his coffee to buy himself some time, and discovered that Vicky had sweetened it exactly to his taste. Which meant she was observant. He already knew she was clever, so she’d probably guess whatever he didn’t tell her. So he may as well spill the rest of it. ‘Nan died of a stroke. She had a TIA first, except she wouldn’t admit there was anything wrong. It was only when our neighbour found her that she admitted she’d had a “funny turn”. I rang home that night and got Bridget, who told me. I tried to get Nan to see her GP for a check-up at the very least. But she insisted it was nothing and I was making a fuss. Nan was one of the old school.’

      ‘Stiff upper lip?’

      ‘Sort of.’ Though not posh, like Vicky’s family. Lily Lewis had had backbone. ‘She grew up in London during the Blitz. She hated being evacuated, so she ran away and made her way back to the East End. The way she saw it, if she managed to get through the war without being hit by a flying V, she wasn’t going to let anything else throw her.’ Including losing her only child. Lily had been the rock Jake had leaned on after the plane crash, and, even though her heart must have been breaking, she’d held it together for his sake. ‘She’d just take the “funny turns” in her stride and pretend they hadn’t happened.’

      ‘TIAs.’

      ‘Yeah. She wouldn’t listen to me. And she ended up having a stroke.’

      ‘So that’s why you specialised in neurology?’ she guessed.

      He didn’t want to answer that, though he guessed that the muscle he felt tightening in his jaw would give him away. ‘If you hadn’t persuaded Violet to let us do the endarterectomy, I’d have told her about my nan.’

      ‘Bullied her into having it done?’

      ‘Guilt-tripped her into it,’ Jake corrected. Then he saw a flicker of a grin on Vicky’s face. ‘What?’

      ‘Beat you to it. I told her the stats and let her work it out for herself: she could have it done and go back to her own home, or risk a stroke and being stuck in a care home. Or—worse, in her view—being fussed over in her daughter’s home.’

      ‘You understand your patients well.’ With a flash of intuition, Jake guessed, ‘You’re the same, aren’t you? You hate being fussed over.’

      She nodded. ‘Worst nightmare. Comes of being the youngest of three—and the only girl.’

      ‘I remember you told me your brothers are both doctors. What are their fields?’

      ‘Plastics and ED. And they insist on referring to me as “our baby sister, the brain surgeon”.’

      Teasing, but he’d guess that they were proud of her. And that they knew exactly what she was like: if they made a fuss over her and told her how they felt, she’d shut them out. So they teased her instead, saying the words in the way they knew she’d accept them.

      Her family. People who loved her. Jake forced the surge of envy down. He’d made his decision years ago. Losing one family—his parents—had hurt enough. Losing his second, his nan, had been even harder. And he wasn’t going to risk it a third time. He’d go out with the crowd, sure. But he wasn’t letting anyone close. Wasn’t going to have another family that he could lose.

      And that included Vicky Radley. Despite the fact that his whole body yearned to touch her, hold her, he wasn’t going to take the risk.

      Asking her to breakfast this morning had been a mistake. He’d been listening to his libido instead of his common sense. Well, he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. ‘Thanks for the coffee and cake,’ he said, though he hadn’t touched a crumb. ‘See you later.’

      ‘Sure.’

      To his relief, she took the hint and left his office.

      Though he could still feel her presence in the room after she’d left. Still smell her perfume. And it made him ache for her.

      An ache he dared not let himself soothe.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      A MONTH they’d been working together. Four short weeks. And Vicky couldn’t get Jake out of her head. Worst of all, she’d gone to Chloë’s christening, had had a cuddle with her goddaughter at the party afterwards and had had this weird almost-vision of holding another baby.

      A baby with huge brown eyes, just like her daddy’s.

      This was bad. Really bad. Vicky never, but never, fantasised like that. She didn’t want children and she didn’t want a life partner. She wanted a career. She wanted to blaze a trail in medicine and discover new things. She wanted to save people.

      So why couldn’t she get his face out of her head?

      It was worse because she’d seen him practically naked at the pool. Jake’s swimming shorts were perfectly demure, but she’d seen him dive into the pool at the gym they both went to. She’d seen his perfect musculature, the light sprinkling of hair on his chest, his strong, sturdy body. And she’d wanted to touch—something that had sent her straight to the side of the pool and out