Hollywood Hills Collection. Lynne Marshall

about his daughter, he’d forgotten about his issues with his ex-wife—all he’d been aware of was Abi. He’d been drawn to her. There was something between them, a connection that he hadn’t felt with anyone for a long time. He didn’t think he was imagining it, he was certain she felt it too. He was certain he’d seen desire in her golden eyes and he’d definitely seen her lean towards him—or had he leaned towards her?—but then reality had forced its way between them in the form of an impatient five-year-old. Although that was probably just as well. He couldn’t jump in, despite wanting to. All his energy was directed at his work and his daughter, and he had no room in his life for anything else.

      But he couldn’t keep thoughts of Abi out of his head. So much about her was already familiar and he was still trying to process how that could be after only a few days. How was it that she had worked her way into his subconscious so swiftly? There was something ethereal and mystical about her. She was weaving her magic over him, casting a spell.

      ‘Are you okay?’ Freya asked, and Damien was aware only then that his thoughts were drifting.

      He shook his head to clear it. ‘Yes, I’m fine. What can I do for you?’

      ‘I just wanted to check on how Abi’s first day went. Did you have any problems? Is there anything I need to know about?’

      ‘No, everything’s good.’ Everything except his equilibrium but that wasn’t Freya’s department.

      ‘What do you think of her?’

      ‘Is this where you want me to say, “You were right”?’ he asked, but Freya didn’t reply, just smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. Damien decided he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of the truth. ‘You chose well, she’s extremely competent,’ he said.

      ‘Oh, I know that,’ Freya responded. ‘I meant what do you think of her as a person? She’s cute, isn’t she?’

      ‘I hadn’t noticed,’ he lied. He didn’t want to notice cute women. He had enough going on in his life without complicating things by adding women into the mix. But his brain was defying instructions and he was spending far too much time contemplating Abi Thompson. He couldn’t admit the truth, not to Freya. He knew she would want to meddle. She was happy in her new relationship with Zack and Damien knew she thought everyone around her should be so lucky. He didn’t need her interference.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Really.’

      He was happy on his own. He didn’t need, or want, a woman at this point in his life. He’d made a mess of his marriage and he knew it had made him gun-shy. He’d got so many things wrong, starting with his judgement of Brooke’s character. He’d been badly burned and he hated the knowledge that his marriage had failed; he hated not making a success of things. His focus now was on his daughter and that was how things should be. That was how things had to be.

      ‘So, if you’ll excuse me I have a meeting with Mila shortly and I need to get a few things ready.’

      Freya didn’t argue but she did give him a look that implied she hadn’t believed a word he’d said. That didn’t bother him. She could believe what she liked. It didn’t mean she was right.

      * * *

      Abi had struggled to get out of bed that morning. She’d lain awake for hours, tossing and turning, willing herself to sleep, but her mind had been buzzing with thoughts of Damien. When she had slept she’d been so wired that the extra adrenalin had given nightmares permission to intensify. Several times she’d been woken by dreams that had seemed even more vivid and real and dreadful than normal. She’d thought she was getting used to these dreams, she thought she’d learned what to expect, but last night had been particularly horrific and she was exhausted as a consequence.

      When she arrived at the office, bleary-eyed and fuzzy-headed, she was informed by Jennifer that her day’s schedule had been slightly revised and Damien wanted to see her.

      Walking into his office, Abi saw a very attractive woman sitting in the chair by the window. In the chair Abi had sat in just yesterday. She stood as Abi entered the room.

      She was about Abi’s height with hazel eyes and amazing hair, thick, long and dark with mahogany highlights. She looked very ‘together’, sensible, calm, unflustered, serene and rich. She looked like old money and Abi fancied that she even smelt like money.

      Damien looked as neat and tidy as always and the two of them made a striking pair.

      ‘This is Dr Mila Brightman from the Bright Hope Clinic,’ Damien introduced her. ‘Do you remember I mentioned the joint venture that Freya has been working on?’ he said as Mila shook Abi’s hand.

      Abi nodded. Freya had also talked about this and she remembered some basic information. The Bright Hope Clinic was located in Southern LA, demographically an area that was the polar opposite of The Hollywood Hills. It had been established to provide medical services to underprivileged children, both in LA and abroad, and Freya had recently established a project allowing the Bright Hope Clinic to access The Hills’ facilities and staff on a pro bono basis. The first joint patient had been operated on just recently, a little boy who had undergone complicated heart surgery. Abi had heard all about Paulo and the success of the surgery. Freya had been hugely excited and was planning a function to celebrate the partnership between the clinics and to garner some good publicity. She intended to promote The Hills and attract sponsorship for the Bright Hope Clinic at the same time.

      ‘I heard about Paulo. That was quite a success story,’ she commented, but she didn’t mention the forthcoming party—she had no intention of attending that if she could possibly avoid it.

      Mila was beaming. ‘It was incredible! He is an amazing little boy with quite a spark, and to have such a great result was brilliant. You know no one expected him to survive the surgery? No one would touch him and to think he not only survived but is thriving is fantastic. Just imagine the amazing things we might be able to achieve together.’

      ‘The Bright Hope Clinic is Mila’s project,’ Damien explained. ‘She established it, it’s her baby, and she has another patient who needs our assistance.’

      Abi was keen to hear more.

      ‘I was hoping you could help,’ Mila said, as Abi took a seat. ‘Damien tells me you’ve had a lot of experience with burns victims?’

      ‘Unfortunately, yes. In Afghanistan.’

      ‘We have a patient, a seven-year-old boy with third-degree burns to his arms and chest, sustained in a house fire. Dylan tried to put the fire out but was trapped and received extensive burns before the fire brigade could retrieve him.’

      ‘When did this happen?’

      ‘Four days ago. His mother was referred to us with an enquiry about skin-graft surgery. They don’t have any medical insurance but I don’t have any doctors who are skilled in this area. I am hoping that it is something you might be able to do here.’

      From what Abi had been briefly told this would be exactly the type of case that Freya was keen to support and Abi was happy to help if she could. ‘I’ve had lots of experience with burns victims but they’ve been adults,’ she told Mila.

      ‘The principle is the same surely?’

      Abi nodded. The only issue she could envisage was dependent on the size of the area that needed grafts and whether or not a seven-year-old would have enough skin for donation, but she wouldn’t know that until she’d examined the patient. ‘When can I see him?’ she asked.

      Damien answered. ‘He’s being transferred by ambulance as we speak,’ he said.

      Abi looked at him quizzically and he shrugged his shoulders in reply. His tailored jacket lifted and then fell again to hang perfectly from his broad shoulders. ‘I thought it might be a case you’d be interested in taking on,’ he explained. ‘It’s not cosmetic surgery. As such, it’s more along your lines, and I was pretty sure you’d agree to Mila’s proposal.’