Dr Cinderella's Midnight Fling. Kate Hardy

to being Plain Jane, Super-Brain. Well, not quite, because she was off duty and she’d actually be Plain Jane who needed to catch up with cleaning her flat. But he’d just made her feel beautiful. Cherished. And she wasn’t quite ready to let that feeling go. ‘One night.’

      ‘Allow me one question. You’re not involved with anyone?’

      That was an easy one to answer. ‘No.’ Though she appreciated the fact that he’d asked, because she needed to know the same thing. The fact that he’d asked first made it easy for her. ‘Are you?’

      ‘No.’ He caught her lower lip briefly between his. ‘Then let’s go.’

      She walked with him into the hotel reception; while he collected his key, she texted Sorcha. Bit of a headache, having an early night. Enjoy the rest of the ball, J xx

      It wasn’t that far from the truth. She was having an early night. Just…not at home. And the headache excuse was enough to make sure that Sorcha didn’t ring the flat to see how she was and worry when there was no answer.

      ‘Everything all right?’ Prince Charming asked.

      ‘Fine.’ She smiled back at him. ‘Just texting my best friend to say I’m leaving, so she doesn’t worry that I’ve disappeared.’

      ‘Which means you’re all mine. Good.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      ED USHERED his Cinderella over to the lifts. Her face was incredibly expressive; as the doors closed behind them, he could see that she was starting to have second thoughts. And third.

      She was definitely the responsible, thoughtful type, because she’d made sure that her best friend wasn’t worrying about her rather than disappearing without a word. And she was clearly wondering whether she was doing the right thing now.

      He took her hand, pressed a reassuring kiss into her palm and curled her fingers over the imprint of his lips. ‘Stop worrying,’ he said softly. ‘You can say no and it won’t be a problem. Just come and have a drink with me.’

      ‘I don’t normally do this sort of thing,’ she muttered, and more colour flooded into her face.

      ‘Me, neither,’ he said. ‘How shockingly bold of us.’

      To his relief, she responded to the teasing note in his voice and smiled back. ‘I guess so.’ And she made no protest when he unlocked his room and gestured for her to go inside.

      ‘Take a seat,’ he said. Though he wasn’t surprised that she pulled the chair out from under the dressing table rather than sitting on the bed. ‘Shall I order some champagne?’

      She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I think I’ve already had enough. So unless you’re planning to drink the whole bottle yourself…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Probably not.’

      ‘You spilled most of your glass over me,’ he pointed out.

      She winced. ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

      He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t intending to make you grovel, just pointing out that you haven’t had a drink tonight.’

      ‘Actually, I have.’ She bit her lip. ‘This is going to sound terrible, but I drank one glass straight down before the one I spilled over you.’

      Now that did surprise him. She’d looked slightly vulnerable when she’d first met him, but he’d assumed that was simply embarrassment at spilling her champagne over him. ‘Why? Didn’t you want to come to the party?’

      ‘No, it’s not that. The hospital ball’s always fun.’ She blew out a breath. ‘We said no questions, remember.’

      He shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’ Though he still wondered. Why would a woman with such beautiful eyes and such a perfect mouth need to bolster her courage with champagne?

      ‘Why do you have a room here?’ she asked.

      He smiled. ‘And who was it who just reminded me, “no questions”?’

      ‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m not much good at this. I never go off with complete strangers whose name I don’t even know.’

      Neither did he. But then again, he hadn’t responded so powerfully to someone for a long time; if he was honest, he hadn’t felt like that about his wife. And he’d avoided dating since his marriage had disintegrated.

      His sisters were all nagging him to have some fun and start dating again. And the way Cinderella had kissed him back on the dance floor had really stirred his blood. He had the feeling that this was something they both needed. Except she was clearly worried about him being a stranger. ‘That’s an easy one to sort. My name’s—’ he began.

      ‘No,’ she cut in. ‘We’re at a charity ball for the hospital. So the chances are, if you were a complete snake, you wouldn’t be here. Or else someone would’ve warned me about you beforehand and I’d know to avoid you.’

      He blinked. ‘The grapevine’s that fast?’

      ‘Yup.’

      ‘So you work at the hospital,’ he said thoughtfully.

      ‘No questions,’ she reminded him.

      He smiled. ‘It wasn’t a question. It was a logical deduction. This is a charity ball for the hospital, and you clearly know people, plus you’ve been to the ball before and you know how fast the grapevine works. QED.’

      ‘And you had an expensive education.’ She smiled at his raised eyebrow. ‘Again a logical deduction. Most people don’t use Latin abbreviations in everyday speech.’

      ‘So the fact you recognise it says the same about you,’ he parried.

      ‘Not necessarily. I might be a crossword addict.’

      ‘I like fencing with you,’ he said. ‘Almost as much as I like dancing with you.’ His gaze held hers. ‘And almost as much as I like kissing you.’

      Colour bloomed in her face, but this time it wasn’t shyness. The way her lips parted slightly and her pupils grew larger told him that she liked remembering the way they’d kissed, too.

      He took her hand; this time, instead of kissing her palm, he kissed her wrist right where her pulse was beating madly. The longer his mouth lingered, the more her pulse sped up. Her skin was so soft. And she smelled gorgeous—some floral scent he couldn’t quite place, mixed with something else. Soft and sweet and gentle. Irresistible.

      ‘You do things to me, Cinders,’ he said softly. ‘But I’m not going to push you. Do you mind if I…?’ He ran his finger round the collar of his shirt and grimaced.

      ‘Slip into something more comfortable?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

      He laughed. ‘Hardly. I just want to feel a bit less—well—formal.’

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘Thank you.’ He stood up and removed his jacket, hanging it in the wardrobe. Then he undid his bow tie and the top button of his shirt and let the tie hang loose, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up.

      She sucked in a breath.

      ‘What?’ he asked.

      ‘Forget Prince Charming. You’re all James Bond,’ she said.

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a good thing?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice was husky. ‘My best friend and I saw the last film three times at the cinema.’

      ‘Well, just for the record, I hate martinis.’

      She smiled. ‘So do I.’

      ‘And I don’t have a licence to kill.’

      She spread her hands. ‘The only licence I have