Hot-Shot Surgeon, Cinderella Bride

Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

Alison Roberts lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

CHAPTER ONE

WHO on earth was that?

The conversation he’d been engrossed in a moment ago became a meaningless blur of sound for Dr Anthony Grimshaw. For just a heartbeat he had caught a glimpse of the most stunning-looking woman he’d ever seen, standing between two pillars on the far side of the ballroom.

Much to the delight of the organising committee, St Patrick’s fundraiser had become the function of the year, and there was a sea of people moving to the excellent music being provided by a small live orchestra. The dance floor was so well populated it was inevitable that his line of vision was obscured, but Tony still found himself trying to see those pillars again as he tuned back in to the voice beside him. A well respected voice that belonged to a senior colleague: paediatric cardiologist John Clifford.

‘…and anyway, didn’t I see a photo of you in some gossip rag? Out and about with Morrison’s daughter? What’s her name?’

‘Miranda,’ Tony supplied absently.

‘Ah, yes! So. As I was saying. The fact that Gilbert’s father is on the board should be well cancelled out by you having a prospective father-in-law with the same— if not greater—power to cast a vote in favour of you becoming HOD.’

‘What?’ Tony’s attention was recaptured. ‘What on earth are you talking about, John?’

‘You. And Miranda.’

‘There is no me and Miranda.’

‘But…’

‘We met at some charity do. Not unlike this one but without the fancy dress.’ He smiled at the rotund figure of his companion. With his genial expression and fluffy mane of white hair it was no wonder his small patients loved him. Dr Clifford had answered tonight’s medieval theme by wearing a king’s robe and a crown. ‘That outfit suits you, by the way. Very regal. Yes, Miranda and I went out a couple of times, but it’s not going anywhere.’

‘Why ever not? The girl’s beautiful. Wealthy. Probably one of the many that seem to find you irresistible. My word, if I was still your age, I’d—’

The direct look Tony gave his companion was enough to break a flow that would have been extraordinary if they hadn’t known each other so well for many years. In his early sixties, John Clifford was a family friend and had been Tony’s mentor since he’d joined the staff of St Patrick’s as a surgical registrar some years ago now.

‘Don’t you think it would seem a little blatant to be dating the daughter of the chairman of St Pat’s board of trustees at exactly the same time I’m up for the coveted position of head of the cardiothoracic surgical department?’

John’s sigh was resigned. ‘But it’s the fact that you’re young and single that counts against you, Tony. The powers-that-be see you as someone who’s going to be distracted by a wife and family in the next few years. Responsibilities that might compromise your ability to lead the department into becoming the cutting-edge facility they’ve set their hearts on having.’

‘I’ll be able to assure them that isn’t the case,’ Tony said with quiet confidence. He tempered any implied criticism with a grin. ‘With any luck Miranda will have told Daddy she broke it off with me because she wasn’t about to try and compete with my job. That I’m far more interested in research than romance.’

The smile was returned. ‘Don’t understand it myself. She looked perfect.’

Tony’s grin faded to a poignant curl. ‘Want to know a secret, John?’

‘What is it?’

Tony leaned closer. ‘Perfection can be very, very boring.’

His gaze shifted as he straightened. Straight back to where he’d be able to see those pillars if the dancers would just move out of the way. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see past the colourful swirl of ornate costumes, and he only turned away briefly to acknowledge the farewell as John responded to a wave from another group.

What was it about that woman that drew his line of vision so compellingly? He was too far away to recognise her, or even see her features in the soft light from the flames of dozens of gas lamps on the walls of this vast ballroom. Maybe it was something about the way she was standing? Poised. Graceful even without any motion. With an aura that spoke of being alone but not lonely. Independent.

Yes, that was an intriguing enough impression to explain the attraction.

He felt a bit like that himself tonight. Independent.

Free.

Part of it could be explained by the costume. Not that Tony had been keen on the idea of being one of the Three Musketeers when the idea had been mooted by one of his registrars, but much to his surprise he was loving it. The soft suede boots, tailored jacket, frilly shirt, and the sword dangling by his side. Even the wig and preposterously wide hat with its ridiculous feather. Not one to do anything by halves, he’d added a mask, moustache and neat goatee beard, which had the unexpected bonus of being a very effective disguise.

The rest of it could probably be attributed to the conversation he’d just been having with John. Or perhaps more to the ending of it. Not that he ever minded talking shop, but he was more than happy to forget the background tension of the career competition he was currently engaged in. He could probably avoid it for the rest of the evening, too, in this disguise. Now that he was alone he could virtually disappear into this incredibly colourful crowd, half of whom he wouldn’t be able to recognise.

Like that woman between the pillars.

The princess with the dark dress and jewels sparkling in her hair.

He watched the crowd of dancers, enjoying the visual feast of this enormous costume party. The timeframe had been—loosely-adhered to, and the variety was impressive. There were knights and highwaymen, kings and queens and Vikings. Milkmaids and monks and jesters. Crusaders and pirates. More than one Merlin and a good crowd of peasants.

And…yes—there she was again!

Dancing, now. With a Robin Hood who was possibly a little merrier than he should be. Not the best dancer, in any case. But the princess…she was on another level entirely. The grace with which she had been holding herself whilst standing still had been a faint reflection of her body in movement.

The way she turned—with that subtle bend, like a leaf in a gentle breeze.

The way her hand traced a shape only she could feel in the air. The shape of the music as it danced in his ears.

There had to be a better position from which to watch the dance floor. One without the frustration of having his view constantly interrupted in this fashion. The best available seemed to be where she had been standing. Between those pillars.

Having chosen his desired position, Tony moved with a determination that had the customary effect of people unconsciously moving aside to clear his path.

Who on earth was that?

Standing there, at the vantage point she had recently vacated herself.

No—lounging might be a better word, with the padded shoulder of an ornate red jacket shifting his weight onto that pillar. On one foot with the other crossed elegantly at ankle level and just the toe of the boot touching the floor. Kelly almost expected to see him twirl the end of that fake moustache or sweep his hat off as she noticed him watching her.

Was he watching her?

Hard to tell with that mask and the flickering shadows from the atmospheric lighting behind the pillar, but it didn’t matter because it felt as if he was watching her— and there was something incredibly exciting about the notion. Kelly wanted to be watched. To feel…desirable.

He was tall and lean. In a costume that could only be considered ideal fodder for a romantic fantasy. And that was precisely what Kelly was in the mood for.

This whole night was a fantasy as far as she was concerned. It had been ever since she had become the envied winner of the raffle for one of the astonishingly expensive tickets to St Patrick’s annual ball. Not that she’d intended to actually come. That had been Elsie’s doing. Her boss. Surrogate mother, almost. It had been Elsie who’d hunted down the costume hire shops and dragged her along after work.

Even then Kelly had been ready to give her ticket away. She’d barely listened to Elsie clucking on about how much she was looking forward to babysitting Flipper. Or to the pointed reminders of how much she loved to dance.

‘I dance every day,’ she’d told Elsie. ‘Flipper lives for her music.’

‘Not the same as being in the arms of some tall, dark, handsome stranger, though, is it?’

‘A man is the last thing I need in my life right now.’

She’d said it with the conviction of utmost sincerity. She’d just been jumping through hoops as she tried to find an acceptable excuse to decline. But then she’d seen the dress in the shop.

Midnight-blue velvet. High-waisted, with a laced bodice over a silver chemise. Sleeves that were shaped with a long, long back to them that would almost touch the ground. Folds of soft material that shimmered when she couldn’t resist touching the garment.

It was a dress that could almost dance all by itself, and as her fingers had trailed down the skirt Kelly had known she was lost.

For just one night, she had to wear that dress.

And dance like there was no tomorrow.

Robin Hood was an unskilled but enthusiastic dancer. It was easy to slip from his grasp and put some of her own style into the nondescript pattern they had been locked into. Kelly stepped back, raised her arms to cross them over her head, and, with her hands held like butterfly wings, she spun herself around fast enough to make the full folds of her dress billow. Then she caught the hand of her partner, twirled beneath it, and stepped back into his arms for some more sedate steps.

‘Wow!’ he said. ‘Do it again.’

This time Kelly kept hold of Robin’s hand and turned sideways before spinning in to lean on his shoulder. For just a split second before the spin her line of vision had those pillars directly ahead of her, and it was all too easy to imagine that he was watching her.

That he wanted her.

The orchestra was in no hurry to complete this particular medley, and suddenly neither was Kelly.

Poor Robin Hood was simply an accessory. She was dancing for him. The stranger in the shadows. Why him? she wondered fleetingly. There was something about the way he was standing there, she decided. The way he might be watching her, as though he found her attractive. But more, it was a vehicle for unleashing a side of herself that had been neglected for so long it was virtually forgotten.

The sensuous side.

Dancing would have been enough to satisfy her if she’d been with a partner who could have challenged her ability or let her express herself completely. This fantasy of dancing to attract a total stranger was exciting enough to fill any gap this somewhat stilted movement left. The dress had already made Kelly feel beautiful. Being watched made it real.

She could dance her way into his heart.

Seduce him without touching. Without even seeming to notice him. And then she could melt into the crowd and simply disappear, to leave him wondering who the hell she was. The smile touching Kelly’s lips was unconscious. It was a fitting part of this fairytale night. A bit of magic, like a tiny crystal ball she would be able to keep and look into occasionally when she wanted to remember feeling this good.

‘Wow,’ Robin Hood said again as the music finally faded. ‘You’re something else! What’s your name?’

Kelly laughed. ‘Cinderella.’

He grinned. ‘Fair enough. Can I get you a glass of champagne, Cinders?’

‘No—thank you.’

They both turned at the sound of the decisive negative, and Kelly felt a prickle run down her spine. How had he moved so fast? He must have been waiting for precisely this opportunity.

The musketeer swept a hand up in front of his chest and then moved it sideways in a graceful arc that left his fingers enticingly close to Kelly’s.

‘My dance, I think,’ he said.

‘Hang on, buddy!’ Robin Hood was scowling. ‘I was just going to get…’

Kelly could see, no—feel the commanding stare her recent dance partner was receiving. In normal life that kind of arrogance would have put her back up instantly— but this wasn’t normal life, was it? It was a fairytale, and he wanted to dance with her.

With a totally uncharacteristic, demure downward glance, Kelly put her hand into his.

The touch of her hand was like…like nothing Tony had ever felt before when his skin had come into contact with that of another person.

Thank goodness she took his hand when she did, because Tony had been experiencing an astonishingly strong desire to say something to Robin Hood that he might regret.

No one, nothing, was going to take away his chance to meet this woman. He tightened his grip around that slim hand.

What on earth was happening to him? The Grimshaws never behaved with anything less that the utmost decorum in public. He cast a suspicious glance at the cause of his unusual emotional state, but she was looking at the floor and standing very still in that poised manner she had. If Tony hadn’t just spent nearly ten minutes watching her dance and finding his heart rate steadily increasing, his breathing becoming shallow and his tight breeches becoming less comfortable by the second, he might have believed her to be completely innocent.

Robin Hood muttered something unintelligible as he melted into the crowd, and it was only then that the princess raised her gaze. Tony was instantly aware of two things.

That they both knew their behaviour to her last dance partner had been unacceptably rude but also unavoidable. And that something was happening here that was simply meant to be.

Something as unreal as pretending to be part of a medieval gathering.

No. He’d better make that three things.

His awareness of this woman’s beauty had been overwhelming even from the distance of the pillars. This close, Tony could believe he was looking at the nearest thing to perfection in a woman he’d ever seen.

Dark, dark blue eyes. Pale skin made all the more dramatic by the fall of that glorious wig. He’d been watching the black ripples that fell to her waist lift and swirl as she danced, and was thankful she hadn’t braided it, or bundled it up to wear one of those pointy hats with veils attached at the sides that some women were wearing tonight. Dark stones like teardrops lay against her forehead, and the chain of jewels was the only restraint to her loose, flowing locks.

His hand lifted of its own accord to touch a soft curl.

‘Nice,’ he murmured. ‘It feels almost real.’

‘Does it?’ A tiny smile pulled up the corners of her mouth and Tony found himself staring. Trying to extinguish what threatened to be an irresistible urge to kiss her.

Right here. Right now. In the middle of a dance floor where people around them had already started to dance to a new bracket of songs. Slightly faster music at the moment. Like his heartbeat.

‘Shall we?’ He gave a mock bow. Play-acting seemed to be the way forward here, because none of this felt real.

‘Please.’ The smile had an impish quality. ‘But…’

‘But?’

‘I’m just wondering how safe it is to dance with you.’

Oh, not safe at all, he thought, but he pressed his lips closed on the warning and raised his eyebrows instead.

‘Your sword?’

‘Oh…’ With a slow, deliberate, one-handed movement, Tony unbuckled the big silver clasp and pulled the belt from his waist. He looked up to inform the princess of his plan to drop the accessory out of the way—by the pillars, perhaps, along with his hat.

She looked up at the same instant, from where she had clearly been staring at his hands, and when he saw the tip of her tongue emerge to run across her bottom lip it felt as if some giant vice was squeezing every last molecule of oxygen from his chest.

Yes!

She wanted him. The way he wanted her.

Desire threatened to suffocate him. He could simply walk out of this ballroom and take her somewhere more private, couldn’t he? No. It was a long time since he’d been an inexperienced teenager, for whom where lust could obliterate the ability to think clearly. This combination of confidence and anticipation might be heady stuff, but experience had taught him something else as well. It was a thrill that should be savoured for as long as possible.

Somehow he sucked in a breath as he led her to the edge of the floor to get rid of his unwanted accessories. Then he drew her into his arms.

‘Did I hear correctly?’ he enquired politely. ‘Is your name Cindy?’

Those eyes were huge and… Dear Lord, even the way she blinked so slowly was erotic.

‘Yes,’ she said softly.

‘Cindy who?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It might.’

He could feel her responsiveness as he manoeuvred them to a clear space on the floor. She felt weightless in his arms, like an extension of his own body rather than a separate partner. God, if she felt like this on a dance floor, what would she be like in bed?

He saw the way the soft mounds of her breasts, pushed up by the corset top of her dress, rose even further as she took a deep breath. His mouth went dry.

‘Riley,’ she said at last. ‘My name is Cindy Riley.’

‘And you work at the hospital, Cindy Riley?’

‘Yes.’

‘Whereabouts? Which department?’

‘All over.’ She was smiling again. ‘A bit of everything, really.’

Ah… She must be a pool nurse. Filling in wherever they required assistance. No wonder he hadn’t seen her often enough in one place to recognise her. Tony ignored the scoffing sound in the back of his mind. The voice that said he would have only needed to see her once to recognise her again.

‘Favourite places?’

‘Emergency,’ she said without hesitation. He could see the flicker in her eyes that spoke of a real passion for her work. ‘And Theatre.’

Tony pulled her a little closer. ‘My kind of girl,’ he told her. ‘And my favourite places as well. I’m Tony Grimshaw, by the way. I’m on the cardiothoracic surgical team.’

‘Mmm.’ The sound seemed oddly strangled. ‘Could we stop talking, please, Tony Grimshaw? And dance?’

By way of response, Tony altered the way he was holding her. He might be rusty, but already the short time of moving with this woman felt natural. He sent Cindy Riley into a brief spin and then caught her, stepping sideways so that she could bend and dip—one arm extending gracefully. Then, the instant she was back on balance, he flipped her into a dip on his other side.

She was laughing as she came upright again, those incredible eyes letting him know that she was happy.

Impressed.

That she wanted more.

CHAPTER TWO

HE COULD dance!

The unexpected way her body had responded to that first touch of their hands had been disturbing all on its own.

Finding out who was beneath that disguise had been so shocking part of her brain had shut down, and her only thought had been to finish this dance and escape.

Tony Grimshaw! The son of the city’s mayor, no less. The rising star of St Pat’s cardiothoracic surgical team. Tipped to become the next head of that prestigious department, despite being only in his mid-thirties.

One of life’s golden people. Only ever seen to be accompanied by the cream of available women. The wealthiest and most beautiful. Often celebrities, and never encumbered with small dependent children.

Criteria Kelly could never aspire to attaining. Wouldn’t want to, in fact.

But he could dance. Really dance. And within moments a forgotten joy was reborn for Kelly.

Like flying. Taking off and swooping and knowing it was perfectly safe because there were strong arms to catch her. A lead that not only provided an impressive variety of moves but one that encouraged independence and gave opportunities to play.

Escape was the last thing she wanted now, and the music fading at the end of the set would have been utterly disappointing except that it went virtually unnoticed. The only change was that Tony slowed down. Held her close and started a tango step. And Kelly could rest her head against his and keep her eyes closed and still think of nothing but the music and the way they moved together so beautifully.

It didn’t matter now that she was dancing with the physical embodiment of everything she had run from in her previous life. Or that she had lied about her identity.

It wasn’t really a lie, was it?

Cindy Riley was close enough to being Cinderella to be a joke. Part of the pretence. Part of the fairytale she was living tonight. And it was…magic.

The spell they were under did odd things to the passage of time. Kelly had no idea how long they danced, and there was no way she was going to suggest a break. That would come all too soon—when the clock struck midnight and she had to flee. The lights became dimmer and the crowd on the dance floor thinned out, but still they danced on.

As if there was no tomorrow.

And maybe the spell was going to last a little longer than midnight.

At some point, drugged by the music and the movement, and barely moving in the slow, slow tango, she heard Tony murmur in her ear.

‘I want to be with you,’ he said. ‘Somewhere else.’

She hadn’t expected this. The thought was alarming. ‘T-tonight?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The movement of his hand on her back was subtle. Nobody else would have noticed the way his thumb moved and pressed down along the bumps of her spine. But Kelly could feel the heat spread through her entire body. Into every single cell.

His voice was such a low rumble that Kelly felt rather than heard the two words he added.

‘All night.’

His lips were right beside her ear. She felt them move like a caress. She felt the tiny coolness of his tongue touching her skin.

Yes!

No!

It was unthinkable! To spend a night with a man she’d just met for the first time? Not even met him honestly, come to that, seeing as he had no idea who she really was.

But maybe that made it less shocking somehow— because it wasn’t her doing something so risky. So unlike anything she’d ever contemplated doing. She wasn’t herself. Wasn’t expected to be until around eight tomorrow morning, when she was due to collect Flipper from Elsie’s house. Just for tonight—a few more hours—she could continue being part of the fairytale and do things she might never get the chance to do again.

She could believe she was someone that a man like Tony actually wanted.

‘Wh—where?’ she heard herself whisper.

‘The owners of this hotel are family friends. I have a suite upstairs for the night.’

His head was moving as he spoke. His lips brushing her cheek. Any moment now and he might kiss her, and— God help her—Kelly wanted him to. She wanted the touch of his lips more than she had ever wanted anything.

Ever.

It was too easy. Kelly was being led as decisively as he had been leading her in their dancing. Doubts collided in her mind, but wouldn’t slow down enough to take shape. Not when he was looking down at her like this and she could see the dark eyes behind the mask.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said softly. ‘You’re safe. I’ll take care of you, Cindy Riley. I promise.’

And that was her undoing.

The thought of being cared for.

Loved.

It wasn’t the first time Tony Grimshaw had taken a woman he barely knew to his bed. The only difference between his testosterone-laden teen years and those of most young men had been the playground he’d had available. One where the kind of holidays, clothes, cars and freedom had been a magnet for every pretty girl he’d encountered.

So why did it feel like the first time?

Tony led Cindy through the door of the best suite the Grand Chancellor had to offer, pushed it closed with his foot and pulled her into his arms, dipping his head to claim her lips with his own as part of the same, fluid series of moves.

It was all just another kind of dance, really, wasn’t it? And he’d been right. Her responsiveness was… mind-blowing. The way her mouth moved under his and her lips parted. They way her tongue touched and curled against his own. And when he moved his head to deepen the kiss she tilted her own to exactly the angle he needed to explore her delicious mouth a little more thoroughly.

It was some time before he registered what his fingers, rather than his lips and tongue, were aware of.

‘Your hair,’ he said in amazement. ‘It’s real.’

She laughed. ‘Of course it is.’

He smiled back at her. He wanted to make her laugh again because it was such a gorgeous sound. ‘Mine isn’t.’

It worked. ‘I should hope not.’ Then her face stilled. ‘Take it off,’ she whispered. ‘I want to feel you. Take off the wig. And this—’ She touched the moustache that was already half detached after their kisses.

She didn’t seem to mind that his own hair was flattened and damp from the wig. Or that his chin felt rough because he hadn’t shaved before sticking on that silly beard. Her hands shaped his head, and the pressure brought his lips back to hers for an even more intense kiss.

Tony had to slow things down. He wanted her right now. To pull up the acres of fabric in that dress and take her here, against the wall. But he’d promised to take care of her, hadn’t he? And even if he hadn’t made that promise, he wouldn’t want to rush this. It was too special.

He dragged his mouth from hers, but he couldn’t pull right back. He kissed the corner of her mouth. Then her jaw and her neck. She tilted her head back in response to his touch, and the gasp as he trailed his kisses down to the pale flesh rounded over the top of her corset made him utter a sound that was unfamiliar to his own ears.

A primal sound of pure need.

His fingers fumbled with the string at the front of her bodice and then her hands joined his, making deft, sure movements that undid the knot and loosened the lace. And all the time her fingers worked under his, her eyes held his gaze. Tony thought he was going to drown in the deep blue depths. In the desire he could see that so clearly matched his own.

Then the laces were undone and her breasts were free and his hands could hold them and he could bend his head and touch his tongue to nipples as hard as buttons.

And he was lost.

Completely and utterly lost.

Kelly wasn’t a virgin, but it had been a very long time since she’d been with a man—and she’d never been with anyone as far out of her league as Tony Grimshaw.

Maybe that was why it felt like a first time.

Or maybe it was because this man made her feel different. Every touch made her ache for more, but even the combination of long abstinence on her part and gentleness and strength on his part, overlying the undeniable expertise of his lovemaking, couldn’t explain why this felt so different.

He seemed to know her body. Just where to touch her and how. With his lips, his tongue, his teeth. His hands and his fingertips. His eyes! The way he looked at her body as he uncovered it. The way he held her gaze as he stripped off his own clothing.

And his focus. He’d stopped talking and asking awkward questions when she had wanted to dance, and now there seemed no need for any words at all. With the costumes that represented the first chapters of this fairytale lying puddled on the floor, Tony scooped Kelly into his arms and carried her to the massive bed, softly illuminated by discreet lamps.

He laid her down, took a condom from the drawer in the bedside cabinet and then knelt over her on the bed.

There was no going back now. Even if escape had been offered, Kelly would have been totally unable to accept. She looked at the beautiful body of the man she was with. The hard lines of muscle. The faint smudges of dark hair. The size of him in more ways than the obvious. Because Kelly could sense his generosity of spirit. His ability to care.

That recognition took her breath away.

She was completely lost. She held up her arms to welcome him, but he didn’t return her faintly tentative smile. His face was so serious, so intent, she experienced a moment of fear that made her heart stop and then thump painfully hard.

He caught her wrists and lowered her arms until he was holding them, crossed over her head. He transferred both wrists easily to one hand and then, as he bent his mouth to hers, his free hand slipped the curtain of her long hair from where it covered her breast. Gentle fingers traced her neck, along her collarbone, and then dipped to come up from beneath her breast and skim her nipple.

The shaft of exquisite sensation made Kelly gasp, and he raised his mouth from hers, releasing her wrists and using both hands to touch her as his lips took over from his fingers on her breast. But only for a heartbeat. His mouth kept moving, his tongue finding her belly button and then leaving a line of fire as it tracked further down.

She left her arms where they were, above her head, and lay still for as long as possible. But with the first sweep of his tongue on that tiny nub of hidden flesh she came—with a shudder and a groan of disbelief. She had to touch him then. To try and give back some of the magic that was dusting this incredible night.

She cried out again later, when he finally entered her and they began a whole new dance. And when she held him after his own shuddering climax she could feel the same kind of wonder emanating from him. And it felt as if she was touching his soul.

It was a night she never wanted to end, but of course it had to.

The magic was fading when Tony finally fell asleep, one arm flung above his head, the other holding Kelly close to his side. But the luxury of falling asleep and then waking to make love yet again was one Kelly couldn’t afford. With the first fingers of light reaching into the velvety darkness in the corners of the room, she eased herself from the bed so stealthily that Tony did nothing more than take a deeper breath.

She put the dress back on, but its magic had also evaporated and Kelly could feel reality kicking in. It felt wrong to be dressed like this.

Wrong to have just spent a night having the most astonishingly wonderful sex imaginable?

No.

Kelly took one last, long look at the man sprawled on the bed, deeply asleep.

Something that had felt so right couldn’t be wrong.

Softly, she kissed her fingertips and blew the kiss towards the man who still didn’t know who she was.

Or anything about the life she was about to step back into.

And that was the way it had to be.

The truth would only tarnish the fairytale, and Kelly wanted to keep it exactly the way it was.

Perfect.

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU’RE in luck, Kelly, love. They’re short in ED today.’

‘Cool. Thanks, Elsie.’ Kelly was still tucking the long coil of her braid under the elastic band of the oversized shower-cap-type hat that was part of her uniform. ‘For the whole shift?’

‘Yep.’ Elsie was giving her a curious look. ‘I thought you’d be rapt. Isn’t Emergency your favourite place?’

‘It is.’ Kelly nodded and smiled, but her brain had gone into overdrive.

No wonder Elsie had picked up on something being different. Only last week the prospect of a day in the emergency department would have been a treat.

A poignant treat, mind you—it was like having her face pressed to a shop window that contained something ultimately desirable but equally unaffordable—but still an irresistible one.

‘I’m just a bit tired,’ she told Elsie, by way of excusing her lack of excitement. ‘I didn’t sleep very well.’

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ Kelly’s smile was wider this time. Physically, the only thing that had disturbed her rest was the pleasure of experiencing the delicious tingles her body could conjure up with remarkable ease as she remembered the night with her musketeer. ‘Maybe I just had too much excitement the night before.’

‘Hmm.’ Elsie looked unconvinced. ‘You haven’t said much about that. You did have a good time, then?’

‘Magic,’ Kelly affirmed.

So fabulous she couldn’t begin to try describing it. And she didn’t want to, despite sensing that Elsie felt left out and maybe a little hurt.

‘I only went because of you,’ she added. ‘Thank you so much!’

It had been a night of pure magic. One that she intended to treasure for the rest of her life. And that was where the problem now lay. The repercussions that were going to affect a very large part of her life.

Reality couldn’t be allowed to intrude, because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that reality would tarnish, if not completely destroy, the joy of that magic. That was why she needed to keep it private, and not diminish its perfection by talking about it. It was also why the dreadful prospect of Tony Grimshaw recognising her at work had made sleep so elusive.

‘Is Flipper all right?’ Briefly mollified, Elsie was now frowning anxiously. ‘I did wonder if she had a bit of a sniffle on Saturday night. I noticed she was breathless going up my stairs.’

‘Was she?’ Kelly caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind whirling in a new direction. ‘I’ll mention it to Dr Clifford. She’s got a check-up scheduled for this week.’

‘But she’s not sick today?’

‘No. She couldn’t wait to get to crèche. As usual.’

‘What day’s her appointment?’

‘Wednesday. Sorry, Elsie. I forgot to say I wouldn’t be working.’

‘Not a problem. That’s why I keep you on the casual list and why you get sent all over the show. Speaking of which—’ Elsie glanced at her watch ‘—it’s seven-thirty already. They will have finished hand-over.’

‘I’m gone.’ Kelly stood on one foot and then the other to pull disposable shoe-covers over her old, comfortable trainers.

‘Report to the nurse manager when you get there. I’m not sure if they need you out front or in the observation area.’

Kelly took the shortcut of some fire escape stairs, as familiar with the layout of this vast hospital as she was with her own home. It was a world of its own in here, and she loved it despite the fact that her dream had never had her working in quite this capacity.

‘Hey, Tom!’ Kelly gave a cheerful wave to an orderly pushing an empty wheelchair in the opposite direction. Then she turned abruptly and chose a different direction when she saw the group of doctors coming behind Tom. She could take another route to the emergency department. She could use the service elevator and avoid any risk of recognition.

At least her uniform should be an effective disguise. The shower cap, the shapeless pink smock and the shoe-covers. Almost the same uniform the cleaners and kitchen staff wore—because, as a nurse aide, Kelly was part of the faceless army of people whose ranks stretched from groundsmen to technicians and kept this busy city hospital functioning the way it should. Making up the dark sky that allowed stars like Tony Grimshaw to shine so brightly.

Emergency should be safe enough, Kelly reassured herself as she sped down the final corridor, past the pharmacy and gift shop. It was rare for someone other than a registrar to make an initial assessment of a need for surgery. Being around the cardiology wards or theatre suites might be another matter, however. Kelly would need to stay on guard.

Not that she was likely to forget any time soon. Not when he was still in her head to this degree. When just a flicker of memory made her want to smile. Forgetting it enough to focus on her job might prove to be a problem, but it soon became apparent that her concern—for the moment, at least—was groundless.

The department was busy enough to keep her completely focussed. Fetching and carrying supplies, taking patients to the toilet or supplying bedpans, dealing with vomit containers and spills on the floor. She’d worked here often enough to be familiar with everything she needed to know. Many of the staff recognised her. One nurse looked particularly pleased to see her when she took a fresh linen bag to hang in the main resuscitation area.

‘Kelly! Just the person I need. You know where everything is around here, don’t you?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Help me sort out this mess?’ The wave indicated a benchtop littered with supplies that hadn’t been put away. ‘We’ve got an MVA victim coming in, and if it’s still looking like this when they arrive, my guts will be someone’s garters.’

It was fun, working under pressure. Handling syringes and bags of saline and packages containing endotracheal tubes. Things that had once been so familiar. Part of the dream Kelly had been well on her way to attaining.

‘Want any sizes smaller than a seven on the tray?’ she asked the nurse. ‘Do you know what’s coming in?’

‘Something major.’

More staff were beginning to assemble in the room.

‘Where’s Radiology?’ someone called. ‘And the surgical reg—is she on her way?’

‘I’d better get out of here,’ Kelly said.

‘No! Look!’

Kelly looked. Cupboard doors were open below the bench, with supplies spilling into a heap on the floor. They encroached over the red line on the floor that was there to keep unnecessary personnel from the area around a patient. Right at the head of the bed, too, where the person responsible for the patient’s airway would be in danger of tripping over them.

Swiftly, Kelly crouched and began to stack the awkward packages back into the cupboards, so focussed on doing it as quickly as possible she barely registered the increasing level of activity behind her.

And then suddenly the double doors were pushed open and controlled chaos ensued.

‘Seventeen-year-old, pushbike versus truck,’ a paramedic informed the receiving doctor. ‘Handlebar of the bike penetrated the left side of his chest. Intubated on scene and decompression attempted for a tension pneumothorax. Oxygen saturation’s currently—’

Kelly was rising slowly to her feet, her back to the bench, and she slid sideways to get out of the way, horrified at being somewhere she had no right to be. Her gaze was none the less fixed on the scene so close to her. The transfer of the patient from the ambulance stretcher to the bed.

‘On the count of three. One…two…three!’

There was a reassessment of all the vital signs, like heart-rate and blood pressure and respiration rate. None of them was looking good. Monitors were being hooked up and requests being called for more equipment and extra personnel. No one had time to notice Kelly, still standing in the corner.

She knew she had to leave. There was no way a nurse’s aide could be any use at all in the kind of life-and-death drama about to be played out in here.

Bags of intravenous fluids were being clipped to overhead hooks. The doctor in charge of the airway was bag-masking the teenage boy, his eyes on the monitor screen that was showing him how much oxygen they were getting into his circulation. He didn’t look happy with the figures he could see.

‘Saturation’s dropping. We’re below ninety percent. And what the hell’s happened to that ECG?’

An electrode had been displaced while moving the boy from the stretcher to the bed. Nursing staff were busy cutting away clothing and hadn’t noticed the lead dangling uselessly, tangled up with the curly cord of the blood pressure cuff.

Without thinking, Kelly stepped forward into a gap, untangled the lead, and clipped the end back to the sticky pad attached beneath the patient’s right collarbone.

‘Thanks.’ The doctor hadn’t taken his eyes off the monitor, and Kelly could see why. The trace now travelling across the screen was erratic, and the unusual shapes of the spiky complexes suggested that this young boy was in imminent danger of a cardiac arrest.

Another doctor had his stethoscope on the less injured side of the chest. Was it proving too hard for one lung to function well enough to sustain life? Was the heart itself badly injured? Or was this boy simply bleeding too badly from internal injuries to make saving his life an impossibility?

Kelly was back in her corner. Transfixed. She could feel the tension rising with every second that ticked relentlessly past. With every command from the emergency department specialists, who were finding it difficult to gain extra IV access and infuse the blood volume that was so desperately needed, judging by the way the blood pressure was continuing to fall.

‘Didn’t someone page Cardiothoracic?’ a doctor snapped. ‘Where the hell are they?’

‘Right here,’ a calm voice responded. ‘What are we dealing with?’

Kelly actually gasped aloud as Tony Grimshaw stepped closer to the bed, pulling on a pair of gloves. Not that there was the slightest danger of being noticed. At the precise moment the surgeon finished speaking, an alarm sounded on a monitor. And then another.

‘VF,’ someone called.

‘No pulse,’ another added.

‘Start CPR.’ The order came from the head of the bed. ‘And charge the defibrillator to three-sixty.’

‘Wait!’ Tony’s hands were on the patient’s chest, lifting a blood-soaked dressing to examine the wound. ‘Have you got a thoracotomy trolley set up?’

‘Yes, I’ll get it.’ An ED registrar leaned closer. ‘You’re thinking tamponade? What about a needle pericardiocentesis first?’

‘Wasting time,’ Tony decreed. ‘We’re either dealing with a cardiac injury or major thoracic blood loss that needs controlling. Can I have some rapid skin preparation, please? We’re not going to attempt full asepsis and draping, but I want everyone in here wearing a mask. And let’s see if we can get a central line in while I’m scrubbing.’

Masks were tugged from the boxes attached to the wall as trolleys were moved and rapid preparation for the major intervention of opening the boy’s chest continued. Kelly grabbed a mask for herself. A perfect disguise—just in case she got noticed when she made her move towards the exit.

Except she couldn’t move. A thoracotomy for penetrating chest trauma topped the list for emergency department drama, and staff who had no more reason to be here than she were now finding excuses to slip into the back of the room to observe. House surgeons, registrars and nursing staff were squeezed into the space behind the red lines, and Kelly was trapped at the back. Able to hear everything, and even find a small window between the shoulders of the people directly in front of her, that afforded a good view of the surgeon if not the procedure.

He now had a hat and mask and gown over the Theatre scrubs he had been wearing on arrival. He seemed unconcerned by his audience. Ready to use an incredibly tense situation as a teaching tool, in fact.

‘I’ll use a “clam shell” approach,’ he told the closest doctors. ‘The one you guys would be using if I wasn’t here.’

‘Yeah…right,’ someone near Kelly muttered. An over-awed medical student, perhaps?

She saw the flash of a scalpel being lifted from the sterile cover of the trolley.

‘Bilateral incisions,’ Tony said. ‘About four centimetres in length, in the fifth intercostal space, mid-axillary line.’

Blood trickled down the yellow staining of hurriedly applied antiseptic on the boy’s chest. Kelly was struck by how frail the young chest suddenly seemed.

‘Make sure you breach the intercostal muscles and the parietal pleura. With a bit of luck we might deal with a tension pneumothorax and get some cardiac output at this point.’

They didn’t.

Tony took just a moment to watch the screen, however, and his voice was soft. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Michael.’

‘And he’s seventeen?’

‘Yes.’

‘Family here?’

‘His mother’s just arrived. She’s in the relatives’ room.’

Tony simply nodded, but Kelly was allowing herself to stare at him in the wake of his rapid-fire surprising queries. How had he done that? Made this seem so much more personal? As though he cared more about the patient than demonstrating his obviously not inconsiderable skills? Maybe he wasn’t as hung up on his status as rumour had led her to believe.

She held her breath, watching the swift and decisive actions of this surgeon as he used a fine wire saw to cut though the sternum and then opened the chest with retractors.

‘I’m “tenting” the pericardium,’ he said moments later. ‘Scissors—thanks. Make a long incision like this. If it’s too short, it’ll prevent access to the heart. Suction…’

What would it be like, Kelly wondered, to have this man as a mentor in a career as a cardiothoracic surgeon? Or just to work alongside him as a nurse? To know him on a personal basis?

Maybe she knew him better than anyone else in this room.

A ridiculous thought, given the situation. Given reality. It made her memories of her time with him more dreamlike. Precious, but harder to hang onto. Kelly tucked them protectively into a corner of her mind.

Into that empty space in her heart.

Tony had both hands inside the boy’s chest now, massaging Michael’s heart. ‘Make sure you keep the heart horizontal during massage,’ he told the observers. ‘Lifting the apex can prevent venous filling. I’m aiming for a rate of eighty per minute here, and I’m looking for any obvious bleeding that we need to control.’

The people in front of Kelly were murmuring in awed tones, and they shifted enough to obscure her line of vision. She heard the request for internal defibrillation, however, and could envisage the tiny paddles that would provide a minimal jolt to the cardiac tissue but hopefully restore a more normal heartbeat.

A collective gasp of amazement rippled around the room seconds later, but she could sense no let-up in control of a difficult situation from the star at the centre of this drama.

‘Theatre’s on standby. Let’s get Michael up there while we’ve got a perfusing rhythm.’

There was a new flurry of activity as the open chest wound was covered, and the bed, the monitors and numerous necessary staff members all began moving as a connected unit.

Tony stripped off his gloves, dropping them to the floor and reaching for a fresh pair. His gaze scanned the assembled staff as he took a single step to put him within reach of what he needed. Kelly felt the eye contact like something physical. Almost a blow, the way it sent shock waves through her body. Despite the contact being so brief—less than a heartbeat—the connection was so strong she was sure Tony had to feel it, too. He’d glance back—with a frown, maybe. Needing a second glance without having registered why.

But he didn’t look back. He barely broke his stride as he pulled fresh gloves from the slot on the box and followed his patient towards Theatre.

Maybe he hadn’t seen her. She was unimportant.

Invisible.

‘Wow,’ came a voice beside her. ‘I saw it, but I still don’t believe it.’

‘I don’t believe the mess they’ve left behind. Kelly, would you mind helping clear this up?’

‘Better head back to work myself.’ The first nurse sighed. ‘Guess the excitement’s over.’

Kelly tore her gaze away from the open door that had swallowed the figure of Tony Grimshaw.

Yes. The excitement was definitely over.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve checked three times since you rang this morning, Mr Grimshaw. I’m sorry, but there’s no C. Riley to be found on either the permanent or the casual nursing staff databases.’

‘But…’

‘Are you sure she’s a nurse?’ The woman from Personnel was beginning to sound impatient on the other end of the line. ‘St Patrick’s employs hundreds of people, you know. This Miss Riley you’re trying to locate might be a physiotherapist or a dietician or a social worker—or any number of other things.’

‘But she said…’ Tony paused. She hadn’t actually said she was a nurse, had she? She’d said she worked in a lot of different areas and that her favourite places were Emergency and Theatre. He was standing in the theatre suite right now, and there were people everywhere. Nurses, orderlies, technicians. Even a girl polishing the taps on the handbasins.

There were also two registrars waiting for him at a discreet distance from this wall phone. They were running late for a departmental meeting.

‘Never mind.’ He’d probably started some sort of a rumour by making these enquiries in the first place, but the staff in Personnel weren’t to know why he was trying to locate the woman. It could be to reprimand her or something. ‘Thank you for your help,’ he added.

‘A pleasure. If I hear anything that might be helpful I’ll contact you, shall I?’

Tony could squash any embryonic rumours by saying it really didn’t matter.

But it did, didn’t it?

Since he’d woken up on Sunday morning to reach out and find his bed empty, he’d been unable to get rid of that sense of…loss.

It should have been easy. He’d thought he had it sorted when anger had kicked in briefly. When he’d started feeling as though he’d been used and discarded. But then the doubts had crept in. Excuses his brain was only too willing to come up with on her behalf.

Maybe she’d had a good reason to leave without saying anything. Mind you, there’d have to be a good reason to justify not wanting to repeat that experience. He knew it had been just as good for her as it had been for him. Nobody could fake that kind of responsiveness. Or sincerity. The princess had been genuine and he wanted to find her.

Maybe she was married?

If that was the case, fine. Tony wasn’t about to break up anyone’s marriage. It was this not knowing that was frustrating him. That and the peculiar dream-like quality the whole night had taken on.

But it had been real. Utterly different from anything he’d ever experienced before, but there was no denying it had happened. Or that the impression it had left made it impossible to forget. Perhaps what was really pushing his buttons was the need to prove it had been real. So that he would know what he needed to aim for in his personal life and never allow himself to settle for what had been on offer so far.

Mediocrity. Interest that always became infected with an urge to escape.

‘Thank you,’ Tony said finally, preparing to hang up the receiver. ‘I’d appreciate that.’

His registrar had an armful of paperwork, and there would be a lot more by the end of the usual late Monday afternoon meeting where the cardiologists presented their cases. They would listen to histories, view footage of angiograms showing coronary arteries in various stages of blockage, grade people to score the urgency of intervention and draw up the Theatre list for bypass surgery for the next week.

There would be cases left over from last week who hadn’t made it to Theatre because of emergency procedures taking precedence, and there would be debate over issues such as age and lifestyle and circumstances.

A tedious meeting in many ways. Tony was tempted to leave it to his registrar and attend to something more important. Like yet another check on this morning’s trauma case. Seventeen-year-old Michael was in the intensive care unit, and he was still a sick lad but he was alive. Tony knew his save was the talk of the hospital, but what concerned him was whether the boy would make it through the next critical day or two. Whether he would recover without sequelae that could ruin his quality of life.

The two men he was leading into the meeting room now had been the other musketeers at the ball. Funny how it seemed such a long time ago already. As they sat down around the long table, Tony impulsively turned his head.

‘Josh, you know a lot of the nurses around here, don’t you?’

His registrar grinned. ‘I’m working on it.’

‘Ever come across a Cindy?’

The grin stretched. ‘No. No Barbies, either.’

Tony’s smile felt strained. This should feel like a joke but it didn’t. He nodded at colleagues entering the room, noted that the audiovisual gear wasn’t ready yet, and lowered his voice.

‘Cindy Riley,’ he told Josh. ‘Tall. Long, black hair.’

‘Not the woman you spent most of Saturday night dancing with? Blue dress with a lacey thing down the front?’

Tony gave a slow nod, hopefully not overdoing the effort to appear casual. It wasn’t easy. The memory of that ‘lacey thing’ almost exploded in his head. The way her fingers had assisted him to undo it. The way her breasts had felt when he’d finally got to touch them…

‘Won’t be a moment,’ one of the cardiologists called. ‘We just need another extension cord.’

‘She told you her name was Cindy Riley?’

‘Yes.’

Josh exchanged a glance with the other registrar. ‘And you’re trying to find her?’

‘Ah…yes.’

Josh grinned. ‘Did it occur to you that she might not want to be found?’ he ventured.

‘What on earth makes you say that?’

Josh didn’t respond immediately. Computer printouts were being passed around, listing the cases up for discussion. Tony took his copy but ignored it. He frowned at Josh.

‘It just seems a bit of a coincidence.’ Josh shrugged.

‘What does?’

‘A Cindy Riley. At a ball.’

‘Thanks for coming,’ the head of the cardiology department said, then cleared his throat. ‘We’ve got a lot to get through today, so let’s get started. Case one. Sixty-eight-year-old man with angina occurring with minimal exertion. Investigations so far reveal reduced ventricular function estimated at thirty-eight percent. He has moderate mitral regurgitation. A blocked anterior descending, almost blocked posterior descending, and fifty percent occlusion on his left main.’

The screen flickered into life, and views of dye being injected into coronary arteries were shown from various angles.

Tony was having trouble concentrating. A combination of words had made a loop that went round and round in his head.

Cindy Riley. At a ball.

Again and again the name echoed and merged, and finally morphed into something else.

‘Good grief!’

‘Problem, Tony?’

His soft exclamation had unintentionally reached the presenting cardiologist.

‘Not at all. Ah…could you just rerun that last shot of the left main?’

Josh caught his gaze for a second, the quirk of his lips revealing that he knew exactly why Tony had been surprised.

Cindy Riley.

Cinderella.

No wonder this felt so different. He’d stumbled into a fairytale!

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