Doctor at The Chatsfield. Carol Marinelli

       Step behind the hotel room doors of the Chatsfield, London…

      Receptionist Natasha knows something’s missing from her life – she’s just not sure what. Until she finds herself playing emergency midwife in the Chatsfield lobby…

      Delivering the tiny baby is exhilarating – and so too is listening to delicious Dr Joshua Mason’s instructions over the phone! So when he turns up in reception, Natasha’s thrilled to discover he’s as sexy as his voice. Maybe he’s just what she’s been looking for all along?

       Doctor at The Chatsfield

      Carol Marinelli

       Contents

       Cover

       Blurb

       Title Page

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

       About the Author

       Discover the Chatsfield

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      ‘Congratulations, Natasha!’

      Natasha raised her glass of sparkling water as her friends toasted her with far nicer bubbles and offered their congratulations on her upcoming promotion.

      ‘So, what does Reception Manager actually mean?’ Harriet asked.

      ‘Fewer night shifts,’ Natasha said.

      ‘You mean we’ll actually get to properly see you on a Friday night?’ Harriet teased because, having had dinner, instead of heading on to a club as the rest of her friends were, Natasha was about to head into work.

      ‘You shall,’ Natasha nodded, while thinking that even if she wasn’t working the last thing she fancied now was a night of clubbing.

      ‘Have you heard about Dion?’ Harriet asked and the table all fell a little silent but Natasha just laughed at her friend’s sudden disquiet.

      ‘Yes, I’ve heard that he’s just got engaged. Good luck to his fiancé, is all I can say, I just hope she doesn’t have an ambitious bone in her body or she’ll soon find it quashed.’

      Natasha meant every word. Despite being together for two years it had been a relief when she’d ended it.

      On the night he’d proposed. Yikes!

      ‘She looks like you, apparently.’ Harriet said.

      ‘And I looked like his previous girlfriend,’ Natasha shrugged. ‘Thin, blue eyes, blonde…’

      ‘Till you dyed your hair,’ Harriet laughed. ‘Remember when you did that?’

      Oh, Natasha remembered very well her brief foray into being a brunette, just to annoy Dion.

      It had worked!

      But she’d gone back to blonde, which she loved and he’d soon cheered up and it had been then that he’d produced a ring.

      ‘Men,’ Natasha sighed, ‘are so predictable.’

      ‘You’re just jaded,’ Harriet said.

      ‘Possibly,’ Natasha admitted and then glanced at the time on her phone. ‘Well, I’d better make a move, I’m going to take my jaded self off to work now.’

      ‘Stay a bit longer.’ Harriet pushed but Natasha shook her head. It had been nice to catch up for dinner with her friends before she started her night shift as receptionist at the very exclusive Chatfield Hotel but Natasha was more than happy to have the excuse of work to slip off early.

      ‘I really can’t,’ she said, ‘I start at ten but hopefully the next time we get together I should be able to stay longer.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I’m off to get chatted up by rich businessmen.’

      ‘Save one for me,’ Harriet laughed.

      There was another round of congratulations and then Natasha slipped out of the restaurant and headed towards work, grateful for the taxi ride to Mayfair just to gather her thoughts.

      ***

      Was she jaded? No.

      The truth was, Natasha couldn’t quite put her finger on what was wrong. Dissatisfied, discontent. Dis….

      Yes, she was glad to get away from her friends who had insisted that she join them tonight to celebrate her promotion, because somehow the congratulations didn’t sit right with Natasha.

      She liked her job. In fact she really, really liked it. She just didn’t love it.

      Natasha had the perfect personality to work in hospitality. She was outwardly calm, completely unflappable and had an eye for detail that could never be taught, which was why, at twenty five, she’d been offered a generous increase in her salary and far more sociable hours and would now be in charge of reception.

      It was a compliment indeed – the Chatsfield was a seriously top-end hotel, luxury was the name of the game there and to be offered such a frontline position after only a year should have had Natasha swinging around lampposts.

      Was she mad to be considering handing in her notice?

      Natasha pushed that thought aside as the taxi drew up outside the Chatsfield. Glamour started now as the taxi door was opened for her and Natasha thanked Ben, the doorman who was on tonight, and stepped into the decadent foyer. There was a group of couples heading out, the women dressed to the nines, the men in sharp suits, and everywhere Natasha looked there was beauty, glamour and excitement.

      It truly was another world.

      Natasha went through to the changing area to get ready for her ten ‘til seven shift. All the staff were expected to look smart at all times and Natasha took that part of her role seriously, knowing how important those first impressions were when the guests checked in. Not only that, Gene Chatsfield, the owner of the Chatsfield hotel empire, was in residence in the presidential suite. His huge success was no accident and it was more likely than not that he would check on every staff member during his stay.

      Natasha had four dark grey suits in her locker and she took out a fresh one, just back from laundry, to wear tonight. Before she put on the cream cowl neck blouse that was a part of her uniform, Natasha took some time to do her make up, making sure to keep it neutral. After dressing, she pinned up her long, blonde hair, then gave it a light spray to ensure it stayed in immaculate place.

      Natasha clipped on her name badge and checked her nails before heading out to start her shift. She was greeted by Mark - who was seriously jealous and upset that Natasha had been promoted rather than him. ‘It’s only you on the desk tonight,’ Mark warned. ‘Vivien called in sick.’

      ‘That’s fine,’ Natasha said, checking the computer and seeing that they had a few prominent guests outstanding. ‘The Belmont party haven’t checked in.’

      ‘Not yet.’

      Natasha glanced up at the clock. The Belmonts had arranged for a small celebration to be held in the bar for one of their party’s fiftieth birthday and they had been extremely specific about the food that they wanted served and the timing