Praise for

Kate Hardy:

‘Kate Hardy brings this emotional and poignant story of past hurts, dealing with grief and new beginnings which will keep a reader turning pages and devouring it in one sitting!’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on DR CINDERELLA’S MIDNIGHT FLING

‘When you pick up a romance novel by Kate Hardy you know that you’re going to be reading a spellbinding novel which you will want to devour in a single sitting, and A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT is certainly no exception.’

—CataRomance.com

‘NEUROSURGEON… AND MUM! is a spellbinding tearjerker readers will want to read again and again. Written with plenty of sensitivity, understanding and heart, NEUROSURGEON… AND MUM! is the latest winner by this outstanding storyteller!’

—CataRomance.com

‘SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH: I spent a lovely morning with this book, and I’d advise you to do likewise. Get it. You’ll love it. An unrestrained Grade A.’

—goodbadandunread.com

‘PLAYBOY BOSS, PREGNANCY OF PASSION: this story features a strong heroine who gains strength from her family, and a hero who realises the importance of love and family before it’s too late. Add in their captivating romance and it makes for one great read.’

—4 stars RT Book Reviews

This was Lewis Gallagher. In the white shirt and formal trousers he wore with a white coat at work he looked professional, and she could see him as just another colleague. In faded jeans and a black T-shirt he looked younger. Approachable. Touchable.

How had she ever thought she could handle this?

‘Come in,’ she mumbled awkwardly.

She put the flowers in water, then buried her nose in them and breathed in the scent again. ‘These are glorious.’

‘I’m glad you like them,’ he said.

‘I wasn’t expecting you to bring me flowers.’

‘I believe it’s official first date behaviour.’

First of three, according to the grapevine. ‘So today you’re on your best behaviour, next time you’re going to be a bad boy, and after the third date you dump me?’ She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll pass.’

‘That’s a bit unfair. You don’t know me.’

True, but she wasn’t going to let him guilt-trip her into agreeing to anything. ‘I know your reputation.’

‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’ He held her gaze. ‘Just as I don’t believe everything I hear about you, Princess.’

The Ice Princess. Touché. ‘So why did you place that bid?’

‘Because,’ he said, ‘you intrigue me.’

Dear Reader

I couldn’t resist going back to the emergency department at the London Victoria and catching up with everyone (you may well recognise some names!). I enjoy opposites-attract stories, and at first glance you’d think that daredevil party boy Lewis is the opposite of quiet ice princess Abigail. Except nothing’s quite as it seems for these two; they both have tricky pasts and secrets to overcome, and they have a lot to teach each other.

Lewis buys a date with Abby to teach her how to relax and have fun. Except it ends up with Abby teaching Lewis to learn to trust his heart and discover what he really wants from life. And it’s not what he thinks it is…

One of my favourite parts of writing is hands-on research. I didn’t research the really scary stuff myself (unless you count watching Felix Baumgartner’s record sky-dive on TV), but I did grill friends who’ve done zip-lining and ice-skating. Researching the dancing was great fun, though my husband and I are rather better at the Cha Cha Cha than we are at the Waltz (and the dance shoes Abby buys are, ahem, just like mine). The Beethoven is my favourite piece of music. And I went to the Globe with my best friend while I was writing the book (though it was a different play!). I do hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I’m always delighted to hear from readers, so do come and visit me at www.katehardy.com

With love

Kate Hardy

About the Author

KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon® has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical Romances™ for over ten years now. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!

Also by Kate Hardy:

In Mills & Boon® Medical Romance™

THE BROODING DOC’S REDEMPTION

ONCE A PLAYBOY…

DR CINDERELLA’S MIDNIGHT FLING

ITALIAN DOCTOR, NO STRINGS ATTACHED

ST PIRAN’S: THE FIREMAN AND NURSE LOVEDAY

(St Piran’s Hospital)

In Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance

THE HIDDEN HEART OF RICO ROSSI

THE EX WHO HIRED HER

A MOMENT ON THE LIPS

In Mills & Boon® Romance

BALLROOM TO BRIDE & GROOM

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Date with the Ice Princess
Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘ABIGAIL, AS YOU’VE only been with the team for a few weeks, I know it’s a bit of an ask,’ Max Fenton, the duty consultant, said, ‘but Marina’s put a lot into setting up the promise auction next weekend. So I was wondering if you might be able to donate something?’

Abigail knew that the quickest thing would be to ask her dad and his band to sign a photo and some CDs. Or offer tickets and a backstage pass to Brydon’s next tour. Except she’d learned the hard way not to mention that her father was the rock guitarist and singer Keith Brydon, founder of the group that bore his surname. Or that her flat had been bought with the royalties from ‘Cinnamon Baby’, the song he’d written for her the day of her birth. It might be a quick win, but it’d make her life way too complicated.

She could simply say no, but that would be mean. The promise auction was raising funds to buy equipment that the department badly needed. And she did want to help.

‘I, um… OK,’ she said. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Max, are you pestering our poor new special reg?’ Marina asked, coming to stand with them and sliding her arms round her husband’s waist.

‘On your behalf, yes.’ He twisted around to kiss her.

The perfect couple, Abigail thought, clearly so much in love. And even though she knew she was better off on her own, she couldn’t help feeling slightly wistful at the love in their expressions. What would it be like to be with someone who loved her that much?

Marina rolled her eyes. ‘Ignore him, Abigail. You honestly don’t have to do anything.’

Which left her on the outside, Abigail thought. Where she’d always been. Would it be so hard to be part of the team for once? ‘No, I’d really like to help,’ she said. ‘What sort of thing do you suggest?’

‘Really?’ Marina looked faintly surprised, then delighted. ‘Well, other people have offered things like dinner out, or cleaning for a day, or a basket of stuff.’ She paused. ‘Maybe you could offer some cinema tickets with popcorn and a drink thrown in, or something like that.’

‘Or a date. That’d be a good one,’ Max chipped in.

‘Shut up, Max. You’re not meant to be pressuring her. A date’s not a good idea. You know what—’ Marina stopped abruptly and put a hand to her mouth, looking horrified.

Abigail could guess why. And what Marina had been going to say. ‘It’s OK. I know people call me the ice princess,’ she said dryly. ‘It was the same at my last hospital.’

‘People don’t mean to be unkind.’ Marina looked awkward. ‘It’s just that… well, you keep yourself to yourself. It’s quite hard to get to know you.’

‘Yes.’ There wasn’t much else Abigail could say. It was true. She did keep herself to herself. For a very good reason. Once people worked out who she was, they tried to get close to her so they could get to meet her father—not because they wanted to get to know her better. Been there, done that, worn the T-shirt to shreds. She blew out a breath. ‘OK, then. I’ll offer a date.’

‘Please don’t feel that we’ve pushed you into this,’ Marina said. ‘If you’d rather offer a basket of girly stuff or some cinema tickets, that’d be just as good.’

It was a let-out. But Abigail was convinced, whatever Marina said, that her colleagues would think even less of her if she took it. ‘The date’s fine,’ she said.

Relief flooded Marina’s expression. ‘Thank you, Abigail. That’s fabulous. I really appreciate it.’

And maybe, Abigail thought, this would be a new start for her. A way of making friends. Real friends for once. Something she’d always found so difficult in the past.

The alternative—that she’d just made a huge, huge mistake—was something she didn’t want to think about.

Friday the following week was the night of the auction. The room was absolutely packed; all the emergency department staff who weren’t on duty were there, along with people Abigail half recognised from other departments that she’d met briefly while discussing the handover of patients.

Max Fenton and Marco Ranieri, two of the department’s consultants, had a double act going on as the auctioneers. And they hadn’t spared themselves from the promise auction: they’d both put themselves up as household slaves for a day, and driven each other’s price up accordingly.

Abigail bid successfully on a pair of tickets to a classical concert, and then it was her own promise up for auction.

A date.

Adrenalin prickled at the back of her neck. Why on earth hadn’t she thought to ask someone to bid for her at the auction? She would’ve funded the cost herself, and it would’ve gotten her out of an awkward situation.

Still, she was the ice princess. Hardly anyone would be interested in a date with her, would they?

Except that Marco and Max seemed to be on a roll, really talking her up.

Abigail could barely breathe when the bidding reached three figures.

And then a male voice drawled, ‘Five hundred pounds.’

Oh, for goodness’ sake. That was a ridiculous sum. And the only reason she could think of that the man would pay that sort of money for a date with her was because he’d found out who she was.

Please, please, let her be wrong.

She held her breath, not quite daring to turn round and look at whoever was bidding. Not wanting to make eye contact.

Everyone else in the room seemed to be holding their breath, too.

And then Max said easily, ‘Do we have an increase on five hundred pounds?’

Silence.

‘OK, then, that’s a wrap. Thank you. One date with Dr Abigail Smith, sold to Dr Lewis Gallagher.’

Lewis Gallagher?

Abigail’s brain couldn’t quite process it. Lewis Gallagher, special registrar in the emergency department, was the one man in the hospital who really didn’t have to buy a date. Women queued up to date him because he was a challenge. Every single one of them seemed to believe that she’d be the one to make him review his ‘three dates and you’re out’ policy. And, from what Abigail had heard, every single one of them failed.

Except her. Because when Lewis had asked her out last week, she’d said no.

And now he’d bought a date with her.

Oh, help. She needed some air. Time to think about how she was going to get out of this.

Except it was too late, because Lewis was standing beside her.

‘Move to me, I think, Dr Smith,’ he said softly, brandishing the certificate Marina had got her to sign for the auction—the promise of a date.

‘Five hundred pounds is a lot of money. Thank you for supporting the auction.’ She lifted her chin. ‘You get a date, but don’t expect me to end up in your bed.’

He laughed. ‘What makes you think that’s what I had in mind?’

His reputation. Colour rushed into her face. ‘So why did you buy a date with me, Dr Gallagher?’ Because he knew who she was?

He shrugged. ‘Because you said no when I asked you.’

Ah. Because she’d challenged his ego. She relaxed. Just a little bit.

He held her gaze. ‘And now you don’t have an excuse to say no.’

‘Maybe I just don’t want to go out with a party boy.’ She’d recognised his type the first time she’d met him. Handsome, wonderful social skills—and shallow as a puddle.

Not her type.

At all.

Lewis gave her the most charming, heart-melting smile she’d ever seen in her life. She’d just bet he practised it in front of a mirror.

‘Maybe I’m not the party boy you think I am,’ he said. ‘Want to know where we’re going?’

‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she said. And she almost winced at how haughty and snooty she sounded. This was ridiculous. She didn’t behave like a spoiled diva. That wasn’t who she was. Abigail Smith was a quiet and hard-working doctor who just got on with whatever needed to be done.

Yet Lewis Gallagher made her feel like a brat, wanting to throw a tantrum and stamp her feet when she didn’t get her own way. And she couldn’t understand why on earth he was affecting her like this.

‘Newsflash for you, princess. I bought a date with you. So you don’t get to decide where we’re going.’

Shut up, Abigail. Don’t answer him. Don’t let him provoke you. Except her mouth wasn’t listening. ‘Correction. You bought a date with me. Which means I organise it and I pick up the bill.’

‘Nope. It means you get to go out with me on Sunday morning.’

She was about to protest that she couldn’t, because she was working, when he added, ‘And you’re off duty on Sunday morning. I checked.’

She was trapped.

And maybe the fear showed in her eyes because his voice softened. ‘It’s only a date, Abby.’

Abby? Nobody called her that. Not even her father.

Well, especially not her father. He used her given name. The one she made sure nobody at work knew about because then it would be too easy to connect her with her father. Not that she didn’t love him—Keith Brydon was the most important person in the world to her. And she was incredibly proud of him. She just wanted to be seen for who she was, not dismissed as an attention-grabbing celeb’s daughter riding on her famous parent’s coat-tails.

Before she could protest, Lewis continued, ‘We’re just going somewhere and spending a bit of time together. All we’re doing is getting to know each other a little. But, just so we’re very clear on this, I’m not expecting you to sleep with me. Or even,’ he added, ‘to kiss me.’

‘Right.’ Oh, great. And now her voice had to croak, making it sound as if she wanted him to kiss her. How pathetic was that?

‘Wear jeans,’ he said. ‘And sensible shoes.’

‘Do I look like the sort of person who clip-clops around in high heels she can barely walk in?’ And then she clapped a hand to her mouth. Oh, no. She hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.

His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘No. But I think you could surprise me, Abby.’

She shivered. Oh, the pictures that put in her head. ‘I suppose now you’re going to say something cheesy about finding out if I have a temper to go with my red hair.’

‘It’s a cliché and I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said. ‘Though, on this evening’s showing, I think you do.’

And, damn him, his eyes were twinkling. She almost, almost laughed.

‘You need sensible shoes,’ he said again. ‘Trainers would be really good. Oh, and wear your hair tied back.’

That was a given. She always wore her hair tied back. ‘So what are we doing?’ Despite herself, she was curious.

‘You’ll find out on Sunday. I’ll pick you up at your place.’

She shook her head. ‘There’s no need. I could meet you there.’

‘Ah, but you don’t know where we’re going.’

Irritating man. She forced herself to sound super-sweet. ‘You could tell me.’

‘True. But it’d be a waste of resources if we took two cars.’

‘Then I’ll drive.’ Maybe needling him a little would make sure he agreed to it. ‘Unless you’re scared of letting a woman drive you?’

‘No.’ He laughed. ‘Well, there’s one exception. But she’d scare anyone.’

Ex-girlfriend? she wondered. The one that got away?

Not that it was any of her business. And not that she was interested. Because she didn’t want to date Lewis Gallagher. She was only doing this because she’d made a promise to raise funds for the department.

‘So are you going to make a fuss about it, or will you allow me to drive rather than direct you?’

Put like that, she didn’t have much choice. She gave in. ‘OK. You can drive.’

‘Good. I’ll pick you up at nine. Your address?’

If she didn’t tell him, she was pretty sure he had the resources to find out. So she told him.

‘Great. See you on Sunday.’ And he was gone.

Making quite sure he had the last word, she noticed.

Abigail was really grateful for the fact that her shift on Saturday was immensely busy, with lots of people limping in with sports injuries and the like. The fact that she barely had a second to breathe also meant she didn’t have to talk; the hospital grapevine had been working overtime, so everyone knew Lewis had paid a ridiculous amount of money for a date with her—and she just knew that everyone was itching to ask questions. Why would a man who could date any woman he chose pay for a date with the girl nobody wanted to go out with?

This was crazy. She wasn’t his type. She wasn’t a party girl or one of the women who sighed over him and thought she could reform him. And, actually, she wanted to know the real answer to that question, too. Why on earth had he paid so much money for a date with her? Was his ego really so huge that he hadn’t been able to stand someone turning him down?

Though that was a bit unfair. It didn’t fit in with the man she’d seen taking time to reassure a frightened child with a broken wrist earlier in the week. Or the doctor who, instead of going to get something to eat during his lunch break, had spent the time talking to the elderly man who was in for observation with stomach pains but clearly didn’t have anyone to come and wait with him. Or the man who’d got a terrified yet defiant teenage girl to open up to him and tell him exactly which tablets she’d taken then had sat holding her hand and talking to her the entire way through the stomach pump that Abigail had administered.

Lewis was good with people. He gave them time. As a doctor, he was one of the best she’d ever worked with.

And Abigail had to admit that Lewis Gallagher was also very easy on the eye. His dark hair was cut a bit too short for her liking, but his slate-blue eyes were beautiful. And his mouth could make her feel hot all over if she allowed herself to think about it. Not to mention the dimple in his cheek when he smiled.

But she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he was wasting his time. She’d explain; she’d give him back the money he’d paid for the date, and then hopefully that would be the end of it.

Except on Sunday he turned up at her front door with a bunch of sweet-smelling white stocks. Not a flashy, over-the-top bouquet with ribbons and cellophane and glitter, but a simple bunch of summer flowers wrapped in pretty paper. The kind of thing she’d buy herself as a treat. And it disarmed her completely.

‘For you,’ he said, and presented the flowers to her.

‘Thank you. They’re lovely.’ She couldn’t help breathing in their scent, enjoying it. And she’d have to put the flowers in water right now or they’d droop beyond rescue. It would be rude to leave him outside while she sorted out a vase.

But this was Lewis Gallagher. In the white shirt and formal trousers he wore with a white coat at work he looked professional and she could view him as just another colleague. In faded jeans and a black T-shirt he looked younger. Approachable. Touchable.

How had she ever thought she could handle this? Her social skills were rubbish. They always had been. Maybe if she hadn’t grown up in an all-male environment… She pushed the thought away. This wasn’t about her mother—or, rather, her lack of one. She was thirty years old and she was perfectly capable of dealing with this on her own.

‘Come in,’ she mumbled awkwardly.

She put the flowers in water, then buried her nose in them and breathed in the scent again. ‘These are glorious.’

‘I’m glad you like them,’ he said.

‘I wasn’t expecting you to bring me flowers.’

‘I believe it’s official first date behaviour.’

First of three, according to the grapevine. ‘So today you’re on your best behaviour, next time you’re going to be a bad boy, and after the third date you dump me?’ She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll pass.’

‘That’s a bit unfair. You don’t know me.’

True, but she wasn’t going to let him guilt-trip her into agreeing to anything. ‘I know your reputation.’

‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’ He held her gaze. ‘Just as I don’t believe everything I hear about you, princess. Even if you are starchy and standoffish at work.’

The ice princess. Touché. ‘So why did you place that bid?’

‘Because,’ he said, ‘you intrigue me.’

‘And because I turned you down.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s nothing to do with ego.’

‘No?’ she scoffed.

‘No. It’s because I was out of ideas on how to persuade you into joining in with the team outside work.’

So this wasn’t actually a date? She found herself relaxing. ‘I take it this is a team thing today, then?’

‘No. It’s just you and me.’ He shrugged. ‘And a few strangers.’

‘What do you mean, strangers?’

He spread his hands and gave her a mischievous little-boy smile. ‘There’s only one way to find out what we’re doing. Let’s go.’

She wasn’t that surprised to discover that his car was a convertible.

‘Very flashy,’ she said dryly. Though she supposed that navy blue was a tad more sophisticated than red.

‘Very comfortable, actually,’ he corrected her, unlocking the car and pressing a button to take the roof down.

The seats were soft, white leather. This should be clichéd and cheesy and make her want to sneer at him.

But he had a point, she discovered as she climbed in. The car was comfortable. And driving in the sunshine with the roof down and the wind in her hair was a real treat. She hadn’t done anything like this in ages; her own car was sensible, economical and easy to park, rather than a carefree convertible.

‘So where are we going?’ she asked.

‘About three-quarters of an hour away.’

He really wasn’t going to be drawn, was he?

‘Feel free to choose the music,’ he said.

The first radio station she tried was dance music—not her cup of tea at all. The second was playing one of her dad’s songs; she left the station playing, and couldn’t help humming along to the song.

Lewis smiled at her. ‘I had you pegged as listening only to highbrow stuff. Classical music. Like those tickets you bid on.’

He’d noticed that?

‘See, I told you that you could surprise me.’

‘So you don’t like this sort of stuff?’ Abigail had to remind herself not to jump to her dad’s defence.

‘Actually, I do. This sort of stuff is great on a play-list if you’re going out for a run. But I didn’t think you’d be a fan of Brydon.’

Their biggest. Not that she was going to tell Lewis that. Or why.

He didn’t press her to talk, and she found herself relaxing, enjoying the scenery.

Until he turned off the main road and she saw the sign.

‘Urban Jungle Adventure Centre.’ And it wasn’t just the name. It was the photographs on the hoarding of what people were doing at the centre. ‘We’re going zip-lining?’

‘It’s one of the biggest rushes you can get.’ He gave her a sidelong look as he parked the car. ‘With your clothes on, that is.’

She felt the colour stain her face. ‘Are you determined to embarrass me?’

‘No. I’m trying to make you laugh. I’m not trying to seduce you.’

‘I don’t understand you,’ she said. ‘I don’t have a clue what makes you tick.’

‘Snap. So let’s go and have some fun finding out.’

Fun. Zip-lining. The idea of launching herself off a platform and whizzing through space, with only a flimsy harness holding her onto a line to stop her plummeting to the ground… No, that wasn’t fun. It made her palms sweat.

He frowned. ‘Are you scared of heights, Abby?’

She let the diminutive pass without correcting him. ‘No.’

‘But you’re scared of this.’

She swallowed. ‘I work in the emergency department. I see accidents all the time.’

‘And you think you’re going to have an accident here?’ His expression softened. ‘It’s OK, Abby. This is safe. All the staff are trained. All the equipment is tested. Very, very regularly. Your harness isn’t going to break and you’re not going to fall. No broken bones, no concussion, no subdural haematoma. OK?’

How had he known what the pictures were in her head? She blew out a breath. ‘OK.’

‘The first time you do it, I admit, it can be a bit daunting. Hardly anyone jumps off the platform on their first time. The second time, you’ll know what the adrenalin rush feels like and you’ll leap off as if you’ve never been scared.’

She doubted it. A lot. ‘So this is what makes you tick. You’re an adrenalin fiend.’ And that was probably why he worked in the emergency department. Because it was all about speed, about split-second decisions that made the difference between life and death. Real adrenalin stuff.

‘Actually, I’m probably more of an endorphin fiend,’ he corrected. ‘Which is why I usually go for a run before every shift, so I feel great before I start work and I’m ready to face anything.’

She’d never thought of it that way before. ‘That makes sense.’

And of course he made her climb up the ladder before him. ‘Ladies first.’

‘You mean, you want to look at my backside,’ she grumbled.

He grinned. ‘That, too. It’s a very nice backside.’

She gave him what she hoped was a really withering look—no way did she want him to know just how scary she found this—and climbed up the ladder. Stubbornness got her to the top. But when it came to putting the harness on all her nerves came back. With teeth. And could she get the wretched thing on, ready for the adventure centre staff to check? Her fingers had turned into what felt like lumpy balloons.

Way to go, Abigail, she thought bitterly. How to embarrass yourself totally in front of the coolest guy in the hospital. Nothing changed, did it? She just didn’t fit in.

‘Let me help you,’ Lewis said.

He was all ready to go, harness and wide smile both in place. Well, they would be, she thought crossly.

‘And this isn’t an excuse to touch you, by the way. Fastening the harness can be a bit tricky, and I’ve already gone through that learning curve.’

Now she felt like the grumpiest, most horrible person on the planet. Because Lewis was being nice, not sleazy. She’d attributed motives to him that he clearly didn’t have and had thought the worst of him without any evidence to back it up. How mean was that? ‘Thank you,’ she muttered.

He laughed. ‘That sounds more like “I want to kill you”.’

‘I do,’ she admitted. And somehow he’d disarmed her. Somehow his smile didn’t seem cocky and smug any more. He was… Shockingly, she thought, Lewis Gallagher was nice.

Which was dangerous. She didn’t want to get close to a heartbreaker like Lewis Gallagher. She didn’t want to get involved with anyone. She just wanted her nice, quiet—well, busy, she amended mentally—life as an emergency department doctor.

‘OK. Step in.’

And what had seemed like an impossible web was suddenly fitting round her. Lewis’s hands were brushing against her, yes, but that was only because he was checking every single buckle and every single fastening, making doubly sure that everything was done properly and she was safe. There was nothing sexual in the contact.

Which should make her feel relieved.

So why did it make her feel disappointed? Surely she wasn’t so stupid as to let herself get attracted to a good-time guy like Lewis Gallagher?

‘OK. Ready?’ he asked.

No. Far from it. ‘Yes,’ she lied.

The adventure centre staff did a final check on her harness, clipped the carabiners to the zip-lines, and then she and Lewis were both standing on the very edge of the platform. Looking down over trees and a stream and—no, they didn’t seriously expect her just to step off into nothingness, did they?

‘You can step off or jump off,’ the adventure centre guy said.

‘See you at the bottom, Abby. After three,’ Lewis said. ‘One, two, three—whoo-hoo!’

And he jumped. He actually jumped.

‘I hate you, Lewis Gallagher. I really, really hate you,’ she said. Right at that moment she would’ve been happy to give him back the money he’d paid for their date and give double the amount to the hospital fund, as long as she didn’t have to jump.

‘Just step off, love. It’s all right once you get going,’ the adventure centre guy said. ‘It’s fun. Look at that ten-year-old next to you. He’s enjoying it.’

So now the guy thought she was feebler than a kid? Oh, great. Her confidence dipped just a bit more.

But there was no way out of this. She had to do it.

She closed her eyes, silently cursing Lewis. Deep breath. One, two, three…

The speed shocked her into opening her eyes. It felt as if she was flying. Like a bird gliding on the air currents. Totally free, the wind rushing against her face and the sun shining.

By the time she reached the platform at the end of the zip-line, she understood exactly what Lewis had meant. This felt amazing. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.

He was there to meet her. ‘OK?’ he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

She blew out a breath. ‘Yes.’

‘Sure? You didn’t look too happy when you were standing on the platform.’

‘Probably because I wanted to kill you.’

‘Uh-huh. And now?’

‘You’ll live,’ she said.

He smiled, and she felt a weird sensation in her chest, as if her heart had just done a flip. Which was totally ridiculous. Number one, it wasn’t physically possible and, number two, Lewis Gallagher wasn’t her type. He really wasn’t.

‘So you enjoyed it.’ He brushed her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, and all her nerve-endings sat up and begged for more. ‘Good. We get three turns. Ready for another?’

She nodded, not quite trusting her voice not to wobble and not wanting him to have any idea of how much he was affecting her.

The second time, the ladder was easier, and so was standing on the platform This time she stepped off without hesitation.

The third time, she turned to Lewis and lifted her chin. She could do this every bit as well as he could. ‘After three? One, two, three.’ And she jumped, yelling, ‘Whoo-hoo!’

With her customary reserve broken, Abigail Smith was beautiful, Lewis realised. Her grey eyes were shining, her cheeks were rosy with pleasure, and he suddenly desperately wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her.

Except she was already off into space, waving her arms and striking poses as she slid down the zip-line.

If someone had told him two days ago that the ice princess of the hospital would let herself go and enjoy herself this much, he would’ve scoffed. He’d brought her here as much to rattle her as anything else.

But he’d been hoist with his own petard, because she didn’t seem rattled at all.

Unlike him. Abigail Smith had managed to rattle him, big time.

He jumped off the platform and followed her down; he was far enough behind for her to be already taking off the safety harness when he reached the landing platform.

‘So are you going to admit it?’ he asked when he’d removed his own harness and handed it to the assistant at the bottom of the zip-line.

‘What?’

‘That you enjoyed it.’

She nodded. ‘If you’d told me earlier that this was where we were going, I would’ve made an excuse. I would’ve paid back your money and given the same amount to the hospital, so nobody lost out.’

‘But you would’ve lost out.’ He held her gaze. ‘And I don’t mean just the money.’

‘Yes. You’re right.’

He liked the fact that she could admit it when she was wrong. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell you.’

‘Thank you for bringing me here. I never would’ve thought I’d enjoy something like this. But—yes, it was fun.’

Oh, help. She had dimples when she smiled. Who would’ve thought that the serious, keep-herself-to-herself doctor would be this gorgeous when her reserve was down? He hadn’t expected her to be anything like this. And he was horribly aware that Abigail Smith could really get under his skin.

‘Let’s go exploring,’ he said. He needed to move, distract himself from her before he said something stupid. Or did something worse—like giving in to the temptation to lean over and kiss her.

CHAPTER TWO

ABIGAIL AND LEWIS spent the next couple of hours exploring every activity at the centre, including the almost vertical slides and the climbing wall. Abigail didn’t even seem to mind when they got a bit wet on the water chute, though Lewis’s pulse spiked as he imagined how she’d look with her skin still damp from showering with him.

‘Penny for them?’ she asked.

No way. If he told her, she’d either slap his face or go silent on him, and he wanted to get to know more of this playful side of her. ‘Time for lunch,’ he said instead.

‘Only on condition you let me pay. Because you’ve paid for everything else today.’

‘And you don’t like being beholden.’

‘Exactly.’

Someone had hurt her, he thought. Broken her trust. Maybe that was why she kept herself to herself so much: to protect herself from being hurt again. ‘Then thank you. I would love you to buy me lunch.’

She looked faintly surprised, as if she’d expected him to argue, and then looked relieved.

‘There really aren’t any strings to today, Abby,’ he said softly. ‘This is all about having fun.’

‘And I am having fun.’

Although her smile was a little bit too bright. What was she hiding?

There was no point in asking; he knew she didn’t trust him enough to tell him and she’d make up some anodyne excuse or change the subject. So he simply smiled back and led her to the cafeteria.

‘What would you like?’ she asked.

He glanced at the board behind the counter. ‘A burger, chips and a cola, please.’

‘Junk food. Tut. And you a health professional,’ she teased.

‘Hey, I’m burning every bit of it off,’ he protested.

She smiled. ‘Go and find us a table and I’ll queue up.’

When she joined him at the table with a tray of food, Lewis noticed that she’d chosen a jacket potato with salad and cottage cheese, and a bottle of mineral water. ‘Super-healthy. Now I feel guilty for eating junk.’

She looked anxious. ‘I was only teasing you.’

‘Yeah. I was teasing, too.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Thank you. That looks good.’

He kept the conversation light during lunch, and then they went back to exploring the park.

‘Do you want to do the zip-line again?’ he asked.

‘Can we?’

‘Sure.’

And, as well as his usual adrenalin rush, Lewis got an extra kick from the fact that she was so clearly enjoying something they’d both thought was well outside her comfort zone.

‘Thank you. I’ve had a really nice time,’ she said when they got back to his car.

‘The date’s not over yet.’

She blinked. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘I thought we could have dinner,’ he said.

She looked down at her jeans and her T-shirt. ‘I’m not really dressed for dinner.’

‘You’re fine as you are. I don’t have a dress code.’

She frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not quite with you.’

‘I’m cooking for us. At my place,’ he explained.

This time, she laughed. ‘You’re cooking?’

He shrugged. ‘I can cook.’

She smiled. ‘I bet you only learned to impress your girlfriends at university.’

No. He’d learned because he’d had to, when he’d been fourteen. Because the only way he and his little sisters would’ve had anything to eat had been if he’d cooked it. Not that he had any intention of telling Abigail about that. ‘Something like that,’ he said lightly, and drove them back to his flat.

‘Can we stop at an off-licence or something so I can get a bottle of wine as my contribution to dinner?’ she asked on the way.

‘There’s no need. I have wine.’

‘But I haven’t contributed anything.’

‘You have. You bought me lunch.’

‘This was supposed to be my date,’ she reminded him.

‘Tough. I hijacked it, and we’re on my rules now,’ he said with a smile. ‘Just chill, and we’ll have dinner.’

Something smelled good, Abigail thought when Lewis let her inside his flat. Clearly he’d planned this, and it wasn’t the frozen pizza she’d been half expecting him to produce for dinner.

‘It’ll take five minutes for me to sort the vegetables. The bathroom’s through there if you need it,’ he said, indicating a door.

She washed her hands and splashed a little water on her face, then stared at herself in the mirror. She looked a total mess and her hair was all over the place, despite the fact she’d tied it back, and she didn’t have a comb with her so it’d just have to stay looking like a bird’s nest. Then again, this wasn’t a date date so it really didn’t matter how she looked, did it?

When she emerged from the bathroom, she could hear the clatter of crockery in the kitchen. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she called.

‘No, just take a seat,’ he called back.

There was a bistro table in the living room with two chairs. The table was set nicely; he’d clearly made an effort.

There was an array of photographs on the mantelpiece, and she couldn’t resist going over for a closer look. At first glance, Abigail wasn’t surprised that most of them seemed to involve Lewis with his arm round someone female. One of them showed him holding a baby in a white christening gown.

His baby? Surely not. If Lewis had a child, he would’ve mentioned it.

But then she saw a wedding photograph with three women and Lewis. When she studied it, she could see the family likenesses: the bridesmaids were clearly the bride’s sisters. And the same women were in all the photographs. One of them had the same eyes as Lewis; one had his smile; all had his dark hair.

Which meant they had to be Lewis’s sisters. She guessed that the baby belonged to one of them, and Lewis was a doting uncle-cum-godfather.

He came through to the living room, carrying two plates. ‘OK?’ he asked.

‘Just admiring your photographs—your sisters, I presume?’

‘And my niece.’ He nodded. ‘My best girls.’

She’d already worked out that he was close to his family. What would it be like to have a sibling who’d always be there for you, someone you could ring at stupid o’clock in the morning when the doubts hit and you wondered what the hell you were doing? Being an only child, she’d got used to dealing with everything on her own.

‘They look nice,’ she offered.

‘They are. Most of the time. You know what it’s like.’

No, she didn’t. ‘Yes,’ she fibbed.

‘Come and sit down.’

He put the plate down in front of her, and she felt her eyes widen. Oh, no. She should’ve said something. Right back when he’d first told her they were having dinner here. But she’d simply assumed that by ‘cooking’ he’d meant just throwing a frozen cheese and tomato pizza into the oven, and then she’d been distracted by the photographs.

Dinner was presented beautifully, right down to the garnish of chopped fresh herbs.

But no way could she eat it.

Maybe if she ate just the inside of the jacket potato, then hid the chicken stew under the skin?

He clearly noticed her hesitation. ‘Oh, hell. I didn’t think to ask. And, given what you had for lunch…’ He frowned, and she could see the second he made the connection. ‘You’re vegetarian, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She swallowed hard. ‘But don’t worry about it. You’ve gone to so much trouble. If you don’t mind, I’ll just eat the jacket potato and the veg.’

‘A casserole isn’t much trouble. And I’m not going to make you pick at your food. Give me ten minutes.’ Before she had a chance to protest, he’d whisked her plate away.

She followed him into the kitchen. ‘Lewis, really—you don’t have to go to any more trouble. Honestly. It’s my fault. I should’ve said something before. Leave it. I’ll just get a taxi home.’

‘You will not,’ he said crisply. ‘I promised you dinner, and dinner you shall have. Are you OK with pasta?’

‘I…’

‘Yes or no, Abby?’ His tone was absolutely implacable.

And, after all the adrenalin of their day at the adventure centre, she was hungry. She gave in. ‘Yes.’

‘And spinach?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I know you’re OK with dairy, or you wouldn’t have eaten cottage cheese. But I’ve already made enough wrong assumptions today, so I’m going to check. Are you OK with garlic and mascarpone?’

‘Love them,’ she said, squirming and feeling as if she was making a total fuss.

‘Good. Dinner will be ten minutes. Go and pour yourself a glass of wine.’ He was already heating oil in a pan, then squashed a clove of garlic and chopped an onion faster than she’d ever seen it done before.

So much for thinking he’d exaggerated his cooking skills. Lewis Gallagher actually knew his way around a kitchen. And he hadn’t been trying to impress her—he was trying to be hospitable. Bossing her around in exactly the way he probably bossed his kid sisters around.

She went back into his living room, poured herself a glass of wine and then poured a second glass for him before returning to the kitchen with the glasses. ‘I, um, thought you might like this.’

‘Thank you. I would.’ He smiled at her.

The spinach was wilting into the onions and the kettle was boiling, ready for the pasta. ‘Sorry, I’m out of flour, or I’d make us some flatbread to go with it.’

And she’d just bet he made his bread by hand, not with a machine. Lewis Gallagher was turning out to be so much more domesticated than she’d thought. And the fact he’d noticed that she couldn’t eat the food and guessed why… There was more to him than just the shallow party boy. Much more.

Which made him dangerous to her peace of mind.

She should back away, right now.

But then he started talking to her about food and bread, putting her at her ease, and she found herself relaxing with him. Ten minutes later, she carried her own plate through to the living room: pasta with a simple garlic, spinach and mascarpone sauce.

‘This is really good,’ she said after the first mouthful. ‘Thank you.’

He inclined his head. ‘I’m only sorry that I didn’t ask you earlier if you were veggie. Dani would have my hide for that.’

‘Dani?’

‘The oldest of my girls. She’s vegetarian.’

Which explained why he’d been able to whip up something without a fuss. And not pasta with the usual jar of tomato sauce with a handful of grated cheese dumped onto it, which in her experience most people seemed to think passed for good vegetarian food.

‘So your sisters are all younger than you?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Dani’s an actuary, Manda’s a drama teacher, and Ronnie—short for Veronica—is a librarian.’

‘Do they all live in London?’

‘Dani does. Ronnie’s in Manchester and Manda’s in Cambridge. Which I guess is near enough to London for me to see her and Louise reasonably often.’

‘Louise being the baby?’ she guessed.

‘My niece. Goddaughter.’ He grinned. ‘Manda named her after me, though I hope Louise is a bit better behaved than I am when she grows up.’

Abigail smiled back at him. ‘Since you’re the oldest, I’m surprised none of them were tempted to follow you into medicine.’

It wasn’t that surprising. Lewis had been the one to follow them to university. Because how could he have just gone off at eighteen to follow his own dreams, leaving the girls to deal with their mother and fend for themselves? So he’d stayed. He’d waited until Ronnie was eighteen and ready to fly the nest, before applying to read medicine and explaining at the interview why his so-called gap year had actually lasted for six.

‘No,’ he said lightly. ‘What about you? Brothers or sisters?’

She looked away. ‘Neither. Just me.’

‘That explains the ice princess. Daddy’s girl,’ he said.

Daddy’s girl.

Did he know?

Had he made the connection with ‘Cinnamon Baby’, the little girl with ringlets who’d been the paparazzi’s darling, smiling for the cameras on her father’s shoulders? She really hoped not. Abigail didn’t use her first name any more, and it had been years since the paparazzi had followed her about. Even so, the times when her identity had been leaked in the past had made her paranoid about it happening again.

And there was no guile in Lewis’s face. Abigail had already leaped to a few wrong conclusions about him, and she knew she wasn’t being fair to him.

‘I suppose I am, a bit,’ she said.

‘Is your dad a doctor?’ he asked.

‘No. What about your parents?’

He shook his head, and for a moment she was sure she saw sadness in his eyes, though when she blinked it had gone. Maybe she’d imagined it.

Pudding turned out to be strawberries and very posh vanilla ice cream.

‘Do I take it you make your own ice cream?’ Abigail asked.

Lewis laughed. ‘No. There’s an Italian deli around the corner that sells the nicest ice cream in the world, so there’s no need to make my own—though I would love an ice-cream maker.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘But my girls say I already have far too many gadgets.’

‘Boys and their toys,’ she said lightly.

‘Cooking relaxes me.’ He grinned. ‘But I admit I like gadgets as well. As long as they’re useful, otherwise they’re just clutter and a waste of space.’

Abigail glanced at her watch and was surprised to discover how late it was. ‘I’d better get that taxi.’

‘Absolutely not. I’m driving you home. And I only had one glass of wine, so I’m under the limit.’

It was easier not to protest. Though, with the roof up, his car seemed much more intimate. Just the two of them in an enclosed space.

He insisted on seeing her to her door.

‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘You’re on an early shift tomorrow, so it wouldn’t be fair. But thank you for the offer.’

‘Thank you for today, Lewis. I really enjoyed it.’

‘Me, too,’ he said.

And this was where she unlocked the door, closed it behind her and ended everything.

Except her mouth had other ideas.

‘Um, those concert tickets I bid for at the fundraiser. It’s on Friday night. It probably isn’t your thing, but if you’d like to, um, go with me, you’re very welcome.’

He looked at her and gave her a slow smile that made her toes curl. ‘Thank you. I’d like that very much.’

‘Not as a date,’ she added hastily, ‘just because I have a spare ticket.’ She didn’t want him thinking she was chasing him. Because she wasn’t.

Was she?

Right at that moment, she didn’t have a clue what she was doing. Lewis Gallagher rattled her composure, big time. And, if she was honest with herself, she’d been lonely since she’d started her new job. Lewis was the first of her colleagues who’d really made an effort with her, and part of her wanted to make the effort back.

‘As friends,’ he said. ‘That works for me. See you tomorrow, Abby.’ He touched her cheek briefly with the backs of his fingers. ‘Sleep well.’

Despite the fresh air and the exercise, Abigail didn’t think she would—because her skin was tingling where Lewis had touched her. And the knowledge that he could affect her like that totally threw her. ‘You, too. Goodnight,’ she mumbled, and fled into the safety of her flat.

CHAPTER THREE

‘JUST THE PERSON I wanted to see.’ Marina Fenton smiled at Abigail. ‘Are you free for lunch today?’

It was the last thing Abigail had expected. She normally had lunch on her own and hid behind a journal so nobody joined her or started a conversation with her. ‘I, um…’ Oh, help. Why was she so socially awkward? She was fine with her dad’s crowd; then again, they’d known her for her entire life. It was just new people she wasn’t so good with. And, growing up in an all-male environment, she’d never quite learned the knack of making friends with women. She didn’t have a clue about girl talk. ‘Well, patients permitting, I guess so,’ she said cautiously.

‘Good. I’ll see you in the kitchen at twelve, and we can walk to the canteen together.’

‘OK.’ Feeling a bit like a rabbit in the headlights, Abigail took refuge in the triage notes for her next patient.

At twelve, she headed for the staff kitchen. Marina was waiting for her there, as promised, but so was Sydney Ranieri, which Abigail hadn’t expected.

‘I know I’m officially off duty today, but Marina said she was having lunch with you and I thought it’d be nice to join you both—if you don’t mind, that is?’ Sydney asked.

‘I, um—no, of course not.’ But it threw her. Why would the two other doctors want to have lunch with her?

‘By the way, lunch is on us,’ Marina said, ushering her out of the department and towards the hospital canteen. ‘Because we’ve been feeling immensely guilty about the weekend.’

Oh. So that was what this was all about. Guilt. Well, she’d never been much good at making friends. Stupid to think that might change with a different hospital. Abigail shook her head. ‘There’s no need, on either count. I was happy to help with the fundraising. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.’

‘So it went well, then, your date with Lewis?’ Sydney asked.

Yes and no. Except it hadn’t really been a date. And it wouldn’t be fair to Lewis to discuss it. ‘It was OK.’

‘OK?’ Sydney and Marina shared a glance. ‘Women never say that about a date with Lewis.’

Abigail spread her hands. ‘He took me zip-lining.’

‘Ah.’ There was a wealth of understanding in Sydney’s voice. ‘That’s the thing about the male doctors in this department. They all seem to like doing mad things. Marina’s husband organised a sponsored abseil down the hospital tower. All two hundred and fifty feet of it.’ She shuddered. ‘And somehow he persuaded the whole department into doing it.’

‘Mmm, I can imagine that,’ Abigail said dryly. Max had persuaded her to do something well outside her comfort zone, too.

‘But it had its good points. I met Marco because I got stuck,’ Sydney said. ‘Faced with the reality of walking backwards into nothing, I just froze.’ She grimaced. ‘Marco sang me down.’

‘He sang you down?’ Abigail couldn’t help being intrigued. ‘How?’

‘He got me to sing with him, to distract me from the fact that I was on the edge of this huge tower, and then he talked me through every step. I was still shaking at the bottom of the tower when he abseiled down next to me.’ Sydney rolled her eyes. ‘And when he landed, it was as if he’d done nothing scarier than walking along the pavement towards me.’

‘That sounds exactly like the sort of thing Lewis would do,’ Abigail said.

‘He wasn’t with the department then, or he probably would have done.’ Marina smiled, but her eyes held a trace of anxiety. ‘Was it really that awful?’

‘The first time I had to step off that platform, with nothing but a bit of webbing and a rope between me and a huge drop, I wanted to kill him,’ Abigail admitted, and they all laughed. ‘But then—once I’d actually done it, it was fun. The second time round was a lot better.’

‘Good.’ Marina rested her hand briefly on Abigail’s arm. ‘I’ve been feeling terrible all weekend, thinking that we pushed you into offering that date. I had no idea that Lewis was going to bid for you.’

‘Neither did I,’ Abigail said dryly.

‘He’s a nice guy,’ Sydney said. ‘As a colleague, he’s totally reliable at work and he’s good company on team nights out. But, um, maybe I should warn you that when it comes to his personal life, he doesn’t do commitment.’

‘Three dates and you’re out. So I heard,’ Abigail said. Though she knew that Lewis did do commitment, at least where his family was concerned. He was really close to his sisters and his niece. Though, now she thought of it, he hadn’t had any pictures of his parents on display in his flat. Which was odd.

And why would someone who was close to his family be so wary of risking his heart? Had someone broken it, years ago?

Though it was none of her business.

They were just colleagues. Possibly starting to become friends. Though she wasn’t going to tell Marina and Sydney that they were going to the concert together later in the week. She didn’t want them to get the wrong idea.

Once they’d queued up at the counter and bought their lunch, they found a quiet table in the canteen.

‘So are you going to see Lewis again?’ Marina asked.

‘Considering that we work in the same department, I’d say there’s a good chance of seeing him in Resus or what have you, depending on the roster,’ Abigail said lightly.

‘That isn’t what I meant.’

Abigail smiled. ‘I know. But we’re colleagues, Marina. He only bid for that date because—well, he said he was trying to persuade me to do more things with the team.’

‘Helping you settle in. Fixing things.’ Sydney looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, Lewis is like that. He sees something that maybe could work better if it was done differently, and he fixes it.’ She smiled. ‘Well, I guess that’s why we all chose this career. We’re fixers.’

‘Definitely,’ Abigail said, and was relieved when the discussion turned away from Lewis. By the end of the lunch break she found herself really enjoying the company of the other two doctors. They weren’t like the mean girls who’d made her life a misery at school. They were nice.

‘I’d better get back,’ she said when she’d finished her coffee.

‘Me, too,’ Marina said. She winked at Sydney. ‘It’s all right for you part-timers.’

Sydney just laughed. ‘It’s fun being a lady who lunches. Well, at least part time. I’d never give up work totally because I’d miss it too much. I’ve enjoyed today. Let’s make it a regular thing,’ she suggested. ‘I work Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Which of those days is best for you, Abby?’

The same diminutive Lewis had used. Something that had never happened in previous hospitals—she’d always been Dr Smith or Abigail. But here at the London Victoria it was different. There was much more of a sense of the department members being a team. Being friends outside work. And Marina and Sydney were offering her precisely that: friendship. For her own sake, rather than because she was Keith Brydon’s daughter—as people had in the past whenever her identity had leaked out.

For once in her life Abigail was actually fitting in. It felt weird; but it felt good. And she didn’t want that feeling to stop.

‘How about Wednesdays?’ Abigail asked.

‘Excellent. Wednesday at twelve it is, patients permitting—and if one of us is held up, the others will save a space at the table,’ Marina said with a smile. ‘It’s a date.’

Abigail didn’t see Lewis all day, even in passing. She’d been rostered in Minors for her shift and according to the departmental whiteboard he was in Resus. She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved that she didn’t have to face him or disappointed that she hadn’t seen him. And it annoyed her that she felt so mixed up about the situation. She’d worked hard and she’d been happy to make the sacrifices in her personal life to get where she wanted to be in her professional life. So why, why, why was she even thinking about dating a man who had commitment issues and wasn’t her type?

She was still brooding about it the next day. Though then it started to get busy in the department.

She picked up her next set of triage notes. Headache and temperature. Normally patients with a simple virus would be treated by the triage nurse and sent home with painkillers and advice. But this wasn’t just a simple case, from the look of the notes: the nurse had written ‘Query opiates’ at the bottom of the page. So the headache and temperature could be part of a reaction to whatever drug the patient had taken.

‘Eddie McRae?’ she called.

An ashen-faced man walked up the corridor, supported by another man.

She introduced herself swiftly. ‘So you have a headache and temperature, Mr McRae?’

‘Eddie,’ he muttered. ‘I feel terrible.’

‘Have you been in contact with anyone who has a virus?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

So it could be withdrawal or a bad reaction to the drugs he’d taken. His breathing was fast, she noticed. ‘Can I take your pulse?’

‘Sure.’

His pulse was also fast, so Eddie could well be suffering from sepsis.

‘Have you taken anything?’ she asked gently.

This time Eddie didn’t say a word, and she had a pretty good idea why. ‘I’m not going to lecture you or call the police,’ she reassured him. ‘My job’s to help you feel better than you do right now. And the more information you give me, the easier it’s going to be for me to get it right first time.’

‘He took something Saturday night,’ his friend said. ‘He’s been ill today, with a headache and temperature.’

‘So it could be a reaction to what you took. Did you swallow it?’

Eddie shook his head and grimaced in pain.

‘Injected?’ At his slight nod, she said, ‘Can I see where?’

He shrugged off his cardigan. There were track marks on his arm, as she’d expected, but the redness and swelling definitely weren’t what she’d expected.

‘Eddie, I really need to know what you took,’ she said gently.

‘Heroin,’ his friend said.

‘OK.’ She knew that the withdrawal symptoms from heroin usually peaked forty-eight to seventy-two hours after the last dose, but this didn’t seem like the withdrawal cases she’d seen in the past.

‘Are you sleeping OK, Eddie?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Do you have any pain, other than your head?’

He nodded. ‘My stomach.’

‘Have you been sick or had diarrhoea?’

He grimaced. ‘No.’

Abigail had a funny feeling about this. Although she hadn’t actually seen a case at her last hospital, there had been a departmental circular about heroin users suffering from anthrax after using contaminated supplies, and an alarm bell was ringing at the back of her head. There was no sign of black eschar, the dead tissue cast off from the surface of the skin, which was one of the big giveaways with anthrax, but she had a really strong feeling about this. Right now she could do with some advice from a more senior colleague.

‘I’m going to leave you in here for a second, if that’s OK,’ she said. ‘I have a hunch I know what’s wrong, but there’s something I want to check with a colleague, and then I think we’ll be able to do something to help you.’

‘Just make the pain stop. Please,’ Eddie said.

She stepped out of the cubicle and pulled the curtain closed behind her. With any luck Max or Marco would be free—in this case, she needed a second opinion from a consultant.

But the first person she saw was Lewis.

‘OK, Abby?’ he asked. ‘You look a bit worried.’

‘I need a second opinion on a patient. Is Max or Marco around?’

‘Marco’s in Resus and Max is in a meeting,’ he said. ‘Will I do?’

Although they were officially the same grade, she knew that Lewis was older than her—which made him more experienced, her senior colleague. And really she should’ve asked him instead of trying to track down Max or Marco. She grimaced. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t good eno—’

‘Relax, Abby,’ he cut in. ‘I didn’t think you were saying that at all. What’s the problem?’

‘My patient took heroin on Saturday. He has a headache and a temperature, and what looks like soft tissue sepsis—not the normal sort of reaction at the injection site. At my last hospital, we had case notes about anthrax in heroin users. Do you know if there’s anything like that happening in this area?’

‘No—but you know as well as I do that if something affects one area of the city, it’s going to spread to the rest, so it’s only a matter of time. You think this is anthrax?’

‘There’s no sign of black eschar. I don’t have any proof. Just a gut feeling that this is more than just withdrawal symptoms or a bad reaction.’

‘I’d run with it. Do you want me to take a look to back you up? And if it is anthrax, we can split the notifications between us and save a bit of time.’

Anthrax was a notifiable disease, and the lab would also need to know of her suspicions when she sent any samples through for testing so they could take extra precautions. ‘Thanks, that would be good,’ she said gratefully.

Lewis walked back to the cubicle with her and she introduced him to Eddie McRae. Lewis examined him swiftly and looked at her. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said quietly.

Abigail took a deep breath. ‘I’ll need to do a couple more tests to check, Eddie, but I think you have anthrax.’

‘But—how? We’re not terrorists or anything!’ Eddie looked shocked. ‘We’ve never had anything to do with that sort of stuff. How can I have anthrax?’

‘Anthrax is a bacterium,’ she explained. ‘It can survive as spores in soil for years. It’s not that common now in the UK, but somehow anthrax has found its way into the heroin supply chain so the drugs have been contaminated. There have been a few cases of heroin users with anthrax in mainland Europe and Scotland—and parts of London, too, because we had some in my last hospital.’

‘My granddad was a farmer. His cattle got anthrax years ago and they all had to be killed. Is Eddie going to die?’ Eddie’s friend asked, looking anxious.

‘It’s treatable,’ Lewis reassured him. ‘We can give you broad-spectrum antibiotics to deal with the infection, but you’ll also need surgery, Eddie.’

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