The Doctor’s Lost-and-Found Bride
Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Praise

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

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Copyright

Praise for Kate Hardy:

‘THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL is just as the title promises. Kate Hardy delivers a superb romance that resonates beautifully with the reader. Bravo, Ms Hardy!

—bookilluminations.com

‘THE GREEK DOCTOR’S NEW-YEAR BABY is romantic storytelling at its best! Poignant, enjoyable and absolutely terrific. With THE GREEK DOCTOR’S NEW-YEAR BABY Kate Hardy proves once again that when it comes to romantic fiction she’s up there with the very best!’

—Cataromance

‘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.’

—RT Book Reviews

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 five years now, and also writes for Modern Heat™. 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!

Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com

Chapter One

‘EXCUSE me. I couldn’t help overhearing the shouting. I’m coming in.’

Marina froze as she heard the voice on the other side of the curtain.

No; of course it wasn’t him.

Apart from anything else, Max Fenton didn’t work at the London Victoria. So it was completely ridiculous that she’d think he was standing on the other side of the curtain. And she was furious with herself for, yet again, hearing a slightly posh voice and thinking immediately of her ex.

After four years, she should be over him—completely over him. Yet every time she had an oblique view of a man with dark hair that flopped over his forehead, every time she heard someone who sounded faintly like him, she immediately thought of Max. And every time it turned out to be a stranger and she ended up cross with herself for being such a fool.

Of course he wouldn’t have followed her to London—not after all this time. He’d signed the divorce papers a year ago, and they’d been separated for three years before that. Sure, Eve had said something about a new senior registrar taking over from Ed, but she hadn’t mentioned his name and, as far as Marina knew, the new doctor wasn’t starting until next week.

And then the curtain to the cubicle twitched open.

Shock kept her silent.

Since when had Max been working at the London Victoria?

He was definitely staff. Apart from the fact that he was wearing a white coat with a stethoscope flung casually around his neck, his name-badge sported the hospital logo and his name was printed underneath his photograph. But how on earth had she missed the news that he’d joined the team?

She stared at him. There were lines she didn’t remember etched on his face, and he was thinner. Too thin. But his hair was just the same, still flopping over his forehead. And she’d forgotten just how blue his eyes were, a smoky, slate-blue that still managed to make her heart miss a beat when she looked at him, even after all the mess and misery that had happened between them.

For one crazy moment, Marina almost reached out to touch him, to press her palm against his cheek and make absolutely sure that he was really here, that this wasn’t some weird kind of hallucination.

But she didn’t have the right to touch him. Not any more. For all she knew, he could be married.

With a child.

The pain at that thought was so intense that she nearly gasped out loud. Then anger bubbled up to block out the pain. What the hell was he doing here? There were plenty of other hospitals in the world. Why did Max have to muscle into hers, push his way back into her life?

Max’s face was completely unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking, or whether he was filled with the same confusing mixture of pain, anger and longing that she was.

He glanced at Marina’s name-badge before turning to the woman who’d been yelling at her; when he spoke, his voice was clipped, and made it very clear that he was in charge. ‘You’re disturbing the other patients. I suggest you leave, so Dr Petrelli can concentrate on treating her patient—or do I need to call security to escort you out?’

The woman curled her lip at him and continued to chew gum loudly. ‘It’s all wrong, that lot coming over here and taking jobs off English people.’

‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ Max said, ‘but Dr Petrelli is as English as you are. And, even if she wasn’t, this department operates a zero-tolerance policy. Our staff have the right to do their job without abuse.’

‘I know my rights,’ Ms Gum-Chewer said, folding her arms. ‘And you’re not getting away with bullying me.’

‘The way you’re bullying my staff, you mean? Three seconds and I’ll be calling security to escort you out. Or you can step outside and let Dr Petrelli treat your friend without interruptions. Your choice.’ He gave her an implacable stare. ‘One…two…’

‘I’ll be just out here, Ally. And you make sure she treats you properly.’ The gum-chewing woman sniffed loudly and stalked out of the cubicle.

Grumbling, and with a last, hostile look at Marina, the woman left the cubicle.

Marina still hadn’t got over the fact that Max had called her his staff.

Ha; she’d stopped being his anything a long time ago.

‘May I have a word?’ Max looked at Marina and gestured to the cubicle curtain.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Marshall,’ Marina said to her patient. ‘I’ll be back in just a moment.’

Max closed the curtain behind them. ‘Are you all right?’

His voice was formal and polite. How different it had been when they’d first met. She’d been a fresh-faced graduate in her first job as a pre-registered house officer. Everyone had been rushed off their feet on the first day, and Max had introduced himself swiftly in the five-minute break she’d managed to take, before giving her half a chocolate bar to keep her going, along with a cup of lukewarm coffee that she could gulp straight down. His warm, open smile had turned her weak at the knees, and she’d discovered that love at first sight wasn’t a myth at all. She’d fallen dizzily, headlong in love with Max Fenton within seconds of meeting him.

But a lot had happened in those five years. And, given their shared past, and the fact that they were clearly going to have to work together, polite, formal and distant was definitely the best way forward.

She glanced at his name-badge again to check his rank and what she should call him. ‘Senior registrar’: so he was the guy who’d taken over from Ed. Still ‘doctor’ rather than ‘mister’, then. Odd, because he’d been so focused on his career that she’d expected him to make consultant at a scarily young age. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Dr Fenton.’

That was a complete lie. Seeing him again had made her feel as if she’d just ridden an enormous rollercoaster—at double speed, and sitting backwards. She managed to pull herself together. Just. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue.’

‘Not a problem.’ He gave her an equally cool nod. ‘I’ll let you get back to your patient.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ the woman on the bed said when Marina returned to the cubicle. She bit her lip. ‘Claire’s really kind-hearted.’

Maybe, on her own terms; Marina forbore to comment.

‘It’s just that sometimes she can come on a bit strong.’

That was putting it mildly, but it wasn’t Mrs Marshall’s fault that her friend was so overbearing. ‘I’ve had worse—you should see the bad-tempered drunks who end up in here on a Friday night,’ Marina said with a smile, wanting to put her patient at her ease. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘It’s because her husband always looks at your bit in the paper on a Wednesday—he fancies you something rotten,’ Mrs Marshall confided.

‘I’m very flattered,’ Marina said, ‘But your friend really doesn’t have anything to worry about.’ Even if she had been in the market for a relationship—and right now life was too complicated for her to cope with dating someone—she only ever went out with single men.

‘I’ve told her how much Stewie loves her, but she’s convinced he’s going to look elsewhere because of her weight.’ Mrs Marshall sighed and shook her head. ‘She’s trying so hard to make herself look good for him. She put on three stone when she stopped smoking. That’s why she chews gum all the time—to stop herself going back on the ciggies.’

Marina knew that people with low self-esteem often lashed out at others as a way of making themselves feel better. Though it still hurt when you were the one they decided to pick on. ‘She’s done the right thing for her health, giving up the cigarettes. But we really should talk about you rather than your friend,’ she said gently. ‘I think you’ve broken your wrist, Mrs Marshall. From what you’ve told me about the way you landed, and the way your wrist looks, I think you have what’s called a Colles’ fracture. I’m going to give you some pain relief to make you more comfortable, then send you for an X-ray. When I’ve had a look at your X-ray and I’m happy that everything’s straightforward, I’ll put a temporary plaster on your wrist to keep it stable until the fracture clinic can see you.’

‘You mean I’m going to be in plaster?’ Mrs Marshall looked shocked.

‘Modern casts are really lightweight,’ Marina reassured her. ‘But, yes, you’ll need a cast for a few weeks, while your wrist heals.’

‘Will I be able to go back to work?’

‘It depends what you do for a living. If you use that hand a lot, then it’s a good idea to have some time off to let your wrist heal properly. And I’d definitely say no lifting or carrying.’

Mrs Marshall looked upset. ‘I don’t get paid if I don’t work.’

‘But if you go back too early, and put too much weight on the fracture, there’s a strong chance you’ll make it worse and you’ll be off work for even longer,’ Marina said gently. ‘I know it’s not going to make you feel much better, but you’re the fourth patient I’ve seen today with a Colles’ fracture. When it’s icy like this, no end of people slip, put their hands out to save themselves and end up breaking their wrists.’

She gave Mrs Marshall some painkillers, then directed her to X-ray. ‘Come back when you’ve had the X-ray and I’ll finish treating you,’ she said with a smile.

Max grabbed a file and started to read his next patient’s notes, needing a couple of minutes to get himself back under control. When he’d heard someone shouting in the cubicles, and realised that someone was haranguing one of his colleagues, he’d instinctively gone to the rescue.

What he hadn’t expected was to see his ex-wife standing there.

He’d had no idea that Marina even worked at the London Victoria, so he hadn’t been prepared to face her again. It was a double shock to see her again for the first time in four years.

She was still as gorgeous as ever, with that long, silky, dark hair he’d so loved playing with, albeit tied back for work; those expressive, dark eyes, and the perfect rosebud mouth he’d fallen in love with the very first day he’d met her. She was twenty-eight now, but still looked younger than her years, all soft skin and lush curves. Just as she’d done the first time he’d met her, she’d taken his breath away.

He only hoped that it hadn’t shown on his face.

Then again, Max had spent months stuck in a hospital bed with nothing to do except brood and teach himself to mask his feelings. Between that, and three years of working for Doctors Without Borders, he was pretty sure he could keep his expression blank and professional in just about any situation.

Including unexpectedly coming face-to-face again with the love of his life.

He’d told himself that he was ready to work in England again, that he was over Marina. But seeing her just now had taught him how wrong he’d been. He wasn’t over her at all. He never had been, and if he were honest with himself he probably never would be.

Not that he was going to do anything about it. Marina’s expression had been pretty clear—shock, followed by hurt and anger. Given that she’d been the one to start divorce proceedings, it was obvious that she’d keep her distance from him. For all he knew, she could be in a serious relationship—married, even. He hadn’t noticed a ring on her left hand; then again, he’d been too busy trying to look professional and detached to think of even looking. The idea of seeing another man’s ring there made him feel sick to the stomach, but what right did he have to protest? He’d signed the papers, after all, agreed to end their marriage instead of fighting for it.

He’d been angry when he’d signed them—angry with Marina for walking out on him, and angry with himself for not doing more to keep them together. But he knew now that the anger had been just a mask for the hurt, something to cover the pit of loss so he couldn’t see how deep it was.

He swallowed hard. What a mess. Now they were going to have to work together, and there was a fair chance that they’d be rostered onto the same team in Resus. So, for both their sakes, he was going to have to keep a lid on his feelings and pretend they’d never met before.

Thank God he’d chosen to specialise in emergency medicine, where he’d be kept way too busy to think about his ex-wife. He strode out to the reception area and called his next patient.

As always, when the weather was icy, the waiting area in the department was standing-room only. Most of the patients had fallen; some were badly bruised, but there were several with Colles’ fractures that needed backslabs to keep the break stable before referral to the fracture clinic. But even though Marina was too busy to have a proper break she made sure she spent enough time with each patient to reassure them—particularly one elderly patient who suffered from osteoporosis and had cracked both arms and a hip. Rather than sending her up to the geriatric ward with a porter, Marina took the old lady herself and spent time settling her in to the ward.

Lunch was a sandwich eaten while sorting paperwork between patients. Halfway through the afternoon, Eve, the charge nurse, caught Marina before she saw her next case. ‘You haven’t had a break today. Go and grab a coffee.’

‘We’re busy,’ Marina protested. ‘And you haven’t had a break either, Eve.’ Nobody in the department did when it was as busy as this. There just wasn’t time.

‘Go and grab a coffee,’ Eve directed. ‘You need a break. And you’re off at five today, yes?’

Marina nodded. ‘I feel awful, leaving early when we’ve still got a full waiting-room.’

‘You were in at eight, and you haven’t stopped since you’ve been in. So leaving at five isn’t exactly leaving early, is it? And we all know where you’re going to be, anyway, if we need you.’

Yes. Picking up Phoebe, then going upstairs to the maternity department and spending a while at her elder sister’s bedside.

Eve smiled at her. ‘How’s Rosie doing?’

‘Getting there. She’s feeling well enough to moan about being stuck in here and wanting to be at home with Neil and Phoebe.’

‘That’s a good sign. And the baby’s doing OK?’

‘Doing fine.’ Marina bit her lip. ‘Though I think we’ll all be a lot happier when he or she’s here safely.’

‘Rosie’s in good hands. You know as well as I do, Theo Petrakis is the best.’ Eve patted her shoulder. ‘Now, scoot.’

‘Five minutes and I’ll be back.’

‘Make it fifteen,’ Eve said.

Marina had no intention of taking that long, not when they were so busy. But she went through to the staff kitchen, made herself a mug of coffee and added enough cold water so that she could drink it quickly.

‘Is the kettle still hot?’ a voice behind her asked, and she nearly dropped her mug.

Max.

Longing surged through her, but she stifled it. Fast. ‘Yes, Dr Fenton.’ She forced herself to sound cool, calm and professional; the last thing she wanted was for him to realise that his voice was enough to turn her to a gibbering mess inside.

If there was an atmosphere between them people would start asking questions. Marina really didn’t want to be the hot topic on the hospital grapevine. So, much as she hated it, she forced herself to make small talk. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be working here,’ she said.

‘I had an interview two weeks ago,’ Max replied, making himself a coffee and topping it up with cold water, the same way Marina had.

Two weeks ago: that explained it. Life had been so crazy since Rosie had been admitted to the maternity ward with pre-eclampsia sixteen days before that Marina really hadn’t paid much attention to what was going on at work. She just did her shift, visited her sister before and after every shift and helped her brother-in-law Neil to look after Phoebe, Rosie and his two-year-old daughter.

‘I didn’t realise you were here, either,’ Max added. ‘You weren’t here when I had a tour of the department.’

‘I was probably off duty.’ Not that he needed to know what she’d been doing. He hadn’t kept in touch with her family at all; as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t part of her family any longer, and she didn’t owe him any explanations.

‘How long have you been working here?’

‘Nearly a year.’ She glanced at him, and was gratified to see a slight flicker in his eyes. Good: so he did remember what had happened a year ago. He’d taken long enough to sign the divorce papers. Her solicitor had had to send them to him three times because he hadn’t bothered replying; the ending of their marriage had clearly been as low a priority in his life as their marriage itself.

But at last she was free. She’d gone back to using her maiden name. At the London Victoria, they’d only ever known her as Marina Petrelli—and that was the way she wanted it to stay.

‘It’s a good place to work,’ she said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is it going to be a problem, my working here?’

Trust Max to cut to the chase.

Yes, it was a problem. She’d much rather they didn’t have to work together. But she couldn’t change the situation, only make the best of it. ‘I think,’ she said carefully, ‘We’re both professional enough to put our patients first.’

‘Good.’

There was a long, long pause. Marina couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Actually, that wasn’t true. There was a lot she wanted to say. Answers she wanted to demand. But the emergency-department kitchen wasn’t the right place to say any of it.

If anyone had said to her five years ago that she’d find it difficult to talk to Max, she would’ve laughed in disbelief. They’d never stopped talking, right from the start. And Max had fitted right in to her noisy, talkative family. The Petrellis had adored him as much as she had.

Until their marriage had gone so badly wrong. Then she and Max had stopped talking completely.

Marry in haste, repent at leisure: how horribly true that saying had turned out to be.

‘Well, I’d better get back,’ she said, rinsing out her mug and trying to avoid eye contact.

‘Me, too.’

Oh, no. Please don’t let him suggest walking back to the department together She wasn’t ready for this. But, to her relief, Max was still finishing his coffee, which meant she could escape.

‘Bye, then,’ she said brightly, and left the room.

How on earth had they come to this point? Max wondered. They were awkward, embarrassed strangers who could barely make small talk in a staff kitchen.

Though he knew exactly how they’d got here: through pain and hurt that they’d both been too young to deal with at the time. Marina had walked out and gone home to her parents for the comfort he hadn’t been able to give her. And he’d responded by going off to work for Doctors Without Borders, where he’d known he’d be too busy to think about the wreck of their marriage.

And now they had to work together. He’d seen on her face that, yes, it was a problem for her. It was a problem for him, too. But they’d better deal with it—and fast—because he sure as hell didn’t want to be the subject of the hospital grapevine. He’d been there before and he wasn’t in any hurry to repeat the experience: people whispering and stopping conversations dead as soon as they saw him walk in, the pitying glances.

If he’d known that she worked here, he wouldn’t have taken the job.

Then again, this had been too good an opportunity to turn down: a position as senior registrar in a busy London emergency-department. Added to his experience abroad, it would stand him in good stead for future promotion, for the consultant’s post that was the focus of his life right now.

Luckily the rest of his afternoon was too rushed to let Max think about Marina. There were several victims of road-traffic accidents who needed checking over—including one with broken ribs and a pneumothorax that needed very careful attention. Even so, he was aware that Marina left the department a good half-hour before he did.

Then, as he walked out through the double doors, he heard a voice he recognised, saying cheerfully, ‘Right, Miss Beautiful. Let’s go and meet Daddy.’

Daddy?

Max couldn’t help looking, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Because at the far end of the corridor Marina was carrying a toddler: a little girl who had the same dark hair, dark eyes and sweet smile as Marina herself.

Marina had a daughter.

For a moment, Max couldn’t breathe; it felt as if someone had just sucker-punched him in the stomach and all the air had been driven out of his lungs. The little girl looked as if she was around two years old—which meant that Marina hadn’t even waited for their divorce to be finalised before she’d moved on to another relationship and had a baby with her new partner.

Yet she still used her maiden name in the department. Maybe she hadn’t yet remarried. Or maybe she’d decided to keep her maiden name for work.

Whatever.

It was none of his business any more.

All the same, it shook him. Especially when a man came walking down the corridor towards them, kissed Marina lightly on the mouth and scooped the child from her arms.

‘Daddy!’ the little girl said, beaming as the man kissed her and lifted her onto his shoulders.

Marina tucked her arm through his and they walked off together, chatting easily. Looking exactly like the close, loving family they obviously were.

Exactly like the close, loving family he and Marina had planned to have.

Max swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Now he understood why Marina had left her shift dead on time. She’d had to pick up her daughter from the hospital nursery before meeting her partner.

What made the whole thing so much worse was that, if circumstances had been very slightly different, Max would’ve been the one meeting Marina with a bright, lively pre-school child, and maybe a baby with chubby hands and a wide, wide smile. He would’ve been the one they smiled at, the one they greeted with a kiss.

He swore under his breath. He’d promised himself that he was over it, that he could cope with working in England again. But seeing that little tableau made it feel as if someone had cracked his heart wide open and stomped on it.

Marina had a child. With someone else.

He’d thought that he’d reached the depths of pain. Now he knew there was more—and it felt as if he were drowning. Someone else had the life he’d planned, the life he’d wanted: Marina, their baby, a fulfilling job.

Why the hell hadn’t he tried harder to make it work?

Because he’d been an idiot.

Because he’d been hurting too much at the time to work out what he’d needed to do—what they had needed to do—as a couple.

And now it was too late. Way, way too late.

There was only one way of getting this out of his system. So, instead of making himself a sandwich when he got home, Max grabbed his gym gear and headed out again. What he needed was a workout that would leave him too damn tired to think. He’d sleep on it, let his subconscious come up with a way of dealing with the fact that Marina Petrelli was back in his life—and she was very firmly off-limits.

Chapter Two

THE roster fairy definitely wasn’t on his side, Max thought the next morning as he walked into Resus and saw his team.

To think he’d been so cool and calm yesterday, asking Marina if it would be a problem for her, working in the same department. He’d been so sure that he could handle the situation.

Though, that had been before he’d seen her with her daughter.

And he was shocked by how much that thought still hurt, like a bruise that went right through his soul.

‘Good morning, Dr Fenton,’ Marina said.

She sounded bright and breezy, as if nothing was wrong—although he’d noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she was using his formal title rather than his first name. OK; he’d take the lead from her. Bright, breezy and surface-friendly it was—even though he felt like punching something. He forced himself to unclench the fists in his pockets. ‘Good morning, Dr Petrelli.’

‘We’ve just had a shout,’ she told him. ‘RTC, elderly female passenger, ETA six minutes.’

‘Any details?’

‘Query fracture and internal injuries. They’ve put a line in and she’s on a spinal board.’

Max met the ambulance crew at the door and quickly went through the handover, and the team swung into action to treat Mrs Jennings. Clearly they were used to working together and, whatever the problems between himself and Marina, she obviously took her job seriously, and she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that she could push the personal stuff into the background and put her patient first. Max quickly discovered that over the last four years Marina had become a fine doctor, confident and capable, and whenever he was about to give her some instructions he found she was already doing it, having second-guessed him.

As they assessed their patient for hypovolaemic shock—Max wasn’t happy with her blood pressure or the capillary refill—they both noted the pattern of bruising across her abdomen, the lap-belt imprint. On examination, Mrs Jennings’ abdomen was tender. Not good.

‘I’m not happy with this,’ Max said quietly to Marina.

‘I’d need to see the X-ray to confirm it, but my guess is that the impact fractured her pelvis,’ Marina said, equally quietly.

He nodded. ‘There may be some splenic involvement as well, or even damage to other organs. We need a CT scan and an X-ray to see what’s going on.’

‘Agreed. Let’s get her stabilised first,’ Marina said.

Quietly, Max asked Stella, their senior nurse, to bleep the orthopaedic-surgery team and put Theatre on standby, and then he turned back to the patient. ‘Mrs Jennings, I’m going to put a mask over your face,’ he said, ‘to give you some oxygen, which will help you to breathe more easily. And I’m going to give you something to help with the pain, so it makes things a bit more comfortable for you while we take a look at your injuries. If you’re worried about anything, just lift your hand and we’ll take the mask off for a few moments so you can talk to us, OK?’

Mrs Jennings whispered her consent. Max fitted the oxygen mask over her face and gave her analgesia through the IV line that the paramedics had put in, while Marina inserted a second IV line and set up a drip. Marina took blood samples for rapid cross-matching, all the while talking to Mrs Jennings, reassuring her and assessing her. Max was impressed by Marina’s calm, kind manner. Although they were faced with a potentially life-threatening emergency—compound pelvic fractures, especially if there were abdominal injuries as well, were associated with a mortality rate of more than fifty per cent—Marina made sure that Mrs Jennings didn’t realise how worried they all were. She behaved as if this was a completely everyday occurrence, and nothing more worrying than a dislocated elbow, which meant that their patient relaxed rather than panicking—and in turn that made their investigations just that touch easier.

If it wasn’t for the personal stuff between them, working with her would have been a dream.

As it was, it was a living nightmare. Her voice echoed through his head: Let’s go and meet Daddy.

Daddy. Daddy.

It should’ve been him.

He shook himself. This wasn’t the time or the place. And there was nothing he could do to change the situation, so it was pointless ripping himself apart over it. He forced himself to stay in professional mode, and reviewed the X-rays with Marina against the lightbox. ‘Classic open-book fracture,’ he said.

‘That’s fixable. What worries me more is that her BP is still dropping.’

‘Which means she has internal injuries.’ He grimaced. ‘We don’t have time to wait for a CT scan, and even a DPL’s going to be risky.’ A diagnostic peritoneal lavage or DPL was a quick way of checking for internal haemorrhage when a scan would take too long. ‘We need to get her up to Theatre now. Fast-bleep the orthopods, please, Stella,’ he said to the nurse. ‘I’m sending Mrs Jennings up.’

He turned to Mrs Jennings. ‘The X-rays show that the accident broke your pelvis,’ Max explained gently, holding her hand and looking into her eyes. ‘I’m going to send you up to Theatre so the surgeons can fix it for you. We want to keep you as still as possible on the way, so we’re going to put sandbags either side of you to make sure you don’t move on the trolley.’

‘But don’t be afraid,’ Marina added. ‘It won’t be uncomfortable, and it’s pretty much routine-procedure for anyone who’s got a break right there. I’m going to come up to Theatre with you and introduce you to the surgical team.’ She took Mrs Jennings’ other hand. ‘And I’m not going to leave you until you’re happy that you know what’s going on. Is there anyone you’d like us to call for you while you’re with the surgeons?’

Mrs Jennings reached up with her free hand and lowered the mask. ‘My daughter,’ she whispered.

Marina made a note of her name and number. ‘I’ll call her myself as soon as you’re in Theatre,’ she promised.

‘And my friend,’ Mrs Jennings whispered. ‘The one who was driving me. Was she hurt in the accident?’

‘She hasn’t been brought in here,’ Marina said. ‘But I’ll talk to the ambulance crew and find out what happened and how she is. Then, when you’re out of Theatre, I’ll come and see you and let you know what’s going on. Now, let me put this mask back on you and make you more comfortable.’

When Marina returned from taking Mrs Jennings up to Theatre and phoning her daughter, Max was about to send her on a break, then the phone in Resus rang.

Stella answered it. ‘Marina, it’s the nursery,’ she said, handing the phone to Marina.

‘Marina Petrelli speaking.’

Even though Max tried hard not to listen in, he couldn’t help noticing that Marina went white.

‘What’s happened? Right. I see. Yes, of course.’ She replaced the receiver and blew out a breath. ‘Phoebe’s just thrown up everywhere. The nursery needs me to collect her and take her home, as in right now.’ She bit her lip. ‘Dr Fenton, I know I’m rostered in here with you today, and we’re short-staffed, but—’

‘Just go,’ Max cut in. ‘The child obviously needs you.’ He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘your daughter’; the words made his throat feel as if it were closing, and he was angry with himself for not being able to get a grip. He should be happy that Marina’s life was on track and that she’d clearly found a partner who loved her the way she deserved to be loved. The fact that he hadn’t moved on and found someone else himself was his own stupid fault, and it wasn’t fair to blame her for his own shortcomings. ‘I’ll arrange cover.’

‘Thank you.’ This time, her smile was genuine, gratitude, clearly mixed with fear for her child; she looked worried sick. And for good reason; he’d been told that the previous month the hospital had had to put a ban on visitors because so many patients and staff had been struck down by the winter vomiting-virus.

He didn’t have time to add that he hoped it was nothing serious, because Marina had already left, walking very quickly, the way junior doctors soon learned to do so they could cover the ground between the on-call room and a department at maximum speed and with minimum risk.

To his surprise, Marina was back in the department again within two hours.

What the hell was she doing here? Her daughter was ill and needed her, and yet Marina was at work. Her priorities were way out of line. ‘Shouldn’t you be at home?’ he demanded.

Marina shook her head. ‘It’s OK. Mum’s taken over. I rang her on the way to collect Phoebe.’

‘Your mother’s looking after Phoebe?’ He stared at her in disbelief. Just what was going on here? He knew that family was important to Marina, and given the way she’d fallen apart when she’d lost their baby he would’ve bet good money that she would always put her child before her job—before anything else. How could she just dump her sick daughter on her mother’s doorstep?

Then again, the cost of living was high in London. Perhaps she and her partner were struggling financially and needed her salary to survive—what was left of it, after the cost of childcare.

‘What about the child’s father?’ The question was out before he could stop it.

She looked defensive. ‘Neil’s really busy at work. I can’t expect him to drop everything. Not when—’

‘Save it. It’s none of my business,’ he cut in. He knew he was being rude, but he was angry—with himself, as much as with her. Why couldn’t he get his head round the fact that Marina had moved on, that she’d found happiness with someone else? Why was he so selfish that he couldn’t be pleased for her, or relieved that she wasn’t stuck in the same limbo of misery that he was?

She said nothing, but her face looked pinched, and her dark eyes were wary whenever she spoke to him for the rest of the afternoon.

As Max’s anger faded, he realised how just unfair he’d been. Which was why he sent Marina off the ward at five o’clock sharp.

‘I can’t leave when we still have a patient to treat,’ she said in a low voice.

‘We’ll manage without you.’

‘But—’

‘Phoebe needs you. Go home.’

‘But—’

‘Go home,’ he repeated, trying to make his voice gentle. It was obvious that Marina was torn between her child and her duty; he had no intention of making the choice any more difficult for her.

But he thought about it for the rest of the evening—and wondered. Had their child been ill, how would he have acted? He was pretty sure he knew—and his choice wouldn’t have been the same as Neil’s.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly been a perfect husband to Marina. He hadn’t been there when she’d needed him. Yes, work had been busy, but he’d used his career as an excuse to avoid facing the misery at home. He hadn’t known how to make things better, for either of them, so he’d put his job first. Her second husband was clearly out of the same mould, so Max knew he was hardly in a position to criticise the guy. It didn’t stop him feeling angry about the situation, though, or thinking that Marina deserved better.

Wednesday; thank God it was Wednesday, Marina thought. As part of her training as a specialist registrar in emergency paediatrics, her boss had arranged for her to spend one day a week in the Children’s Assessment Unit. She was covering in part for Katrina Morgan, who was on maternity leave. Rhys Morgan—the consultant, who was also Katrina’s husband—had taught her a huge amount.

Marina loved every second of the time she spent on the CAU and always looked forward to it, but the fact that she didn’t have to face Max today made it even better.

‘Are you OK, Marina?’ Rhys asked. ‘You look a bit pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ Marina fibbed with a smile. ‘Just tired.’ She hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, brooding about Max and how hostile he’d been towards her. Yes, she’d been the one to walk out—but they were both equally responsible for the collapse of their marriage. And hadn’t they agreed that they were going to put their patients first? If he carried on like that, there was no way they’d be able to work together—and it wouldn’t be fair on their patients or the rest of the team.

‘Not studying too hard, I hope?’ Rhys said.

‘No, just worrying about my sister.’ It was true: just not the whole truth. Not that she was going to burden Rhys with the mess of her personal life. ‘And, yes, I know she’s in good hands and Theo Petrakis is the best maternity specialist for miles.’ Theo’s wife Madison and Rhys’s wife Katrina were cousins, but were as close as sisters—though Marina knew that Rhys would have put the family connection aside when he’d assessed his colleague’s medical skills, just as she would have.

‘But Rosie’s still your sister—and where your own family’s concerned all your medical knowledge goes out of the window. You end up being like a medical student again, poring through textbooks and convincing yourself that you can see the symptoms of really rare complications,’ Rhys said, smiling back. ‘Katrina says I’m going to be a nightmare when she goes into labour, just as Theo was with Maddie.’

‘Doctors, eh?’ Marina said wryly. ‘How is Katrina, by the way?’

‘Blooming,’ Rhys said. ‘It’s our first anniversary next week. I had planned to take her to Venice for the weekend, but with her being seven-and-a-half months’ pregnant I don’t want her to fly. So instead we’re going to Southwold, on the coast of Suffolk.’ He grinned. ‘And, yes, I know that this cold snap means that the east coast is going to feel like Siberia. We’ll just have to tough it out and snuggle up in front of a proper log-fire in the little thatched cottage I booked.’

‘That sounds lovely. Really romantic,’ Marina said, trying to keep the wistful note out of her voice. Rhys was deeply in love with his wife and had planned something special to celebrate their first anniversary, whereas she and Max hadn’t even made it to their first anniversary.

They hadn’t even made it to six months before their marriage had imploded.

And now he was back in her life, and all her feelings were turned upside down again. Anger, hurt, longing, love and hate, all shaken together so thoroughly that she couldn’t work out which was which.

She pushed the thought aside. ‘Righty. What do you have for me this morning?’

‘Severe asthma—cold-induced. Several cases, actually.’

‘And if it isn’t brought back under control properly they could end up with silent chest—in which case they’ll be downstairs with my lot,’ Marina said. With asthma, the child’s airways were inflamed, and responded rapidly and strongly to stimuli, so the child wheezed and coughed; the airways narrowed so much that the child couldn’t breathe out properly. The child might then panic and the situation could spiral. If it got really out of control, the wheezing could stop, which was far more dangerous. ‘Silent chest’, as it was known, meant that the asthmatic patient wasn’t moving enough air through their lungs to even create a wheeze—and that was life-threatening.

‘And then, once you’ve stabilised them, back up with me for admission and overnight observation…’ Rhys began.

‘Because if there’s a history of severe attacks there’s a very good chance that a child who’s had an attack during the day will have another one at night,’ Marina finished.

‘Exactly,’ Rhys said. ‘So part of today is going to be about prevention—talking to the parents about using their inhalers properly, how to use them and when. And it’s worth making the point that the steroids we give aren’t the same as body-building steroids—these are the ones that are produced naturally in the body.’

Marina nodded. ‘And we’ll make a note for the GP and health visitor.’

Rhys smiled. ‘Working with you is almost like working with Katrina—she’s spot on about kids, too. You know, I’m looking for someone to cover her maternity leave properly. Working up here for a while would be really good for your career development.’

Marina shook her head. ‘Ellen agreed to let me work here for a day a week. I’m not sure she’d go for a year’s secondment.’

‘I can talk to her, if you like? Think about it,’ Rhys said. ‘The offer’s open for a couple of weeks.’

‘Thanks.’ It was good to know that she had a potential bolthole. Working with Max and dealing with all the memories would’ve been tough at the best of times but, coming on top of her worries about Rosie and the baby, it just ratcheted up the tension.

At least here in the CAU she could relax.

And she could try not to think of Max.

Chapter Three

ON THURSDAY morning, Max was walking into the department when he heard Kelly on Reception say, ‘Hey, Marina! How’s Phoebe doing?’

‘She’s on the mend. It’s just a tummy bug.’ Marina smiled. ‘That’s the worst thing about being a medic—you know the worst-case scenarios, and instead of seeing a simple tummy bug you imagine it’s the winter vomiting virus and all the complications that go with it.’

Max knew exactly what she meant, though sometimes medics went the other way, going into complete denial when faced with the evidence—just as they had done four years ago. They’d managed to convince themselves that Marina wasn’t having a miscarriage, that the baby they hadn’t planned but had both wanted so much would be just fine…And when they’d finally had to face the truth it had hurt even more.

‘Though Rosie’s pretty upset that she’s not getting her usual visitor on the ward this morning. I rang her at breakfast, so Phoebe could say hello down the phone, but it’s not the same as being able to cuddle her.’

Max knew he really shouldn’t be listening in—it was nothing to do with him any more—but he’d always liked Marina’s elder sister. Unless Rosie had changed career and become a medic like Marina, it sounded as if something was wrong. Why would Rosie be in hospital? And why was Marina taking her daughter to visit her sick aunt every single day?

‘How’s Rosie doing this morning?’ Kelly asked.

‘She’s fine. Missing Phoebe and Neil like crazy, of course, but everyone knows she won’t stick to bed rest at home.’ Marina spread her hands. ‘I mean, you can’t if you have a toddler as lively as Phoebe.’ She laughed. ‘Mum’s always telling Phoebe that she’s exactly like her Aunty Rina was at the same age—covered in glitter and paint half the time, and pedalling round on her tricycle the other half.’

Everything suddenly fell into place for Max, and for one crazy moment he found himself on the point of whooping with delight and doing a happy dance all round the department.

The toddler Marina had been carrying—the one she’d gone to pick up from the nursery—was her niece, not her daughter.

As Rosie had the same colouring as Marina, and similar features, of course there’d be a strong physical resemblance between aunt and niece. And that in turn meant that the man Marina had kissed in the corridor had been her brother-in-law, not her partner. The Petrelli family had always been warm and tactile, and Max had kissed Marina’s sister, mother, aunts and grandmother exactly the same way himself before their marriage had fallen apart.

How stupid he’d been.

Then again, Max had never been able to think straight around Marina. Not from the moment he’d met her as a wet-behind-the-ears junior doctor who made very sure she pulled her weight on the team and did her best to reassure her patients. They’d gone for a coffee after that first shift, and had dated every night after that. The more time he’d spent with her, the more deeply he’d fallen in love with her.

Small wonder that they’d gone to bed together within a week and had moved in together within a month. They hadn’t wanted to spend a single moment apart.

Yet they’d spent the past four years as far apart as they could be: Marina in London, and he moving from disaster zone to disaster zone, pushing himself to the limit so he wouldn’t have to think about how much he’d lost.

He closed his eyes briefly. Now wasn’t the time or the place. He and Marina were going to have to talk about it, but not now, and definitely not here. Right now, he had a job to do. And so did she.

Marina was rostered on the children’s section of the emergency department that morning; that was good, because it meant she didn’t have to see Max. Not unless there was a really difficult case where she needed a second opinion. But she was in luck: her first case was a toddler who’d stuffed a plastic bead up her nose, her second was a child with a cough that she suspected was asthmatic, and her third was one who’d fallen in the playground and gashed his arm deeply enough to need stitches and a lot of reassurance. All things that needed a bit of time, reassurance and TLC as well as medical treatment, and she knew she was perfectly capable of dealing with all of them on her own.

Everything was fine until she took her break. The second that she made herself a mug of coffee in the kitchen, Max walked in, as if he had some weird kind of radar that told him exactly when she’d be there.

‘How’s Phoebe?’ he asked.

‘Doing OK, thanks. Mum’s looking after her today again.’

He made himself a coffee, then took a bar of chocolate from the pocket of his white coat, snapped it in half and handed half to her.

She accepted it without thinking, the way she always had when they’d worked together. ‘Thanks.’ Then she stared at the chocolate, suddenly realising what they’d both done.

Just like old times.

Except they’d both come a long way in the last four years.

‘I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning,’ he said with the quirky smile that had once made her knees melt.

She remembered those days. Even though their flat had been a ten-minute walk from the hospital, they’d never had time for breakfast. Because they’d been too busy making love.

She took a gulp of coffee and willed the memories to stay back.

‘So what’s wrong with Rosie?’ he asked. ‘I overheard Kelly asking you how she was.’

‘Pre-eclampsia,’ Marina explained. ‘They’ve kept her in so she’ll get some rest and they can monitor how the baby’s doing.’

‘Is it OK if I go and see her?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

He sighed. ‘Look, I know things didn’t work out between us, but I liked your family.’

And they’d liked him. A lot.

Pity that the same couldn’t be said of the way Max’s family had felt about her. Kay Fenton had seen Marina as a rival for her son’s affections, and Andrew Fenton had usually been away on business trips. Marina had found them distant and cold, the complete opposite of her own family. And when everything had gone wrong, and Marina had been at her most vulnerable, the Fentons had made it very clear that they weren’t going to offer her a shoulder to cry on. Andrew, as usual, had been absent, and Kay had actually said that it was for the best—that it was the wrong time for Max to have a baby when he had his career to think about.

How could anyone possibly say that a miscarriage was ‘for the best’? All this time later, it still took her breath away.

‘Marina?’

It wasn’t Max’s fault that his mother was supremely tactless. ‘It’s not up to me to give you permission. If you want to visit Rosie—’ she spread her hands ‘—then visit her. But bear in mind she has pre-eclampsia. The last thing she needs right now is any kind of worry that’ll make her blood pressure rise.’

‘As a medic, I’d just about worked that one out for myself,’ Max said drily.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.’ She blew out a breath. ‘It’s just…’

‘She’s your big sister, you love her and you worry about her,’ Max supplied.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s good that she has family who care.’

Marina was careful not to comment, and she took refuge in eating the chocolate he’d given her.

He sighed. ‘Look, if you’re worrying—nobody here knows about Bristol. And I’m happy for it to stay that way. I don’t like being gossiped about, either. If anyone twigs that we know each other, we’ll just tell them we worked together years ago and lost touch.’

It was the truth. Just not the whole truth. And it left out a hell of a lot of pain in between. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

He looked away. ‘We have to work together, and there’s enough tension in an emergency department as it is without adding to it.’

‘Agreed.’

‘So can we just drop the formality and treat each other like any other member of staff?’

‘Sure.’ But he wasn’t just ‘any other member of staff’. He never could be. But Marina had already been there, done that and had her heart well and truly broken. She wasn’t going to take that risk a second time. No matter that she still found Max incredibly attractive physically; she knew that they weren’t compatible. And, although part of her would’ve been more than happy to walk back into his arms, part of her knew that it’d be a huge mistake. She’d simply be setting herself up for more misery. So she was going to have to learn to think of him as just a colleague.

Somehow.

She drained her coffee. ‘I’d better get back. Thanks for the chocolate.’

‘Pleasure.’

During his lunch break, Max called in at the hospital shop to buy chocolates and a puzzle magazine—he’d already learned that the hospital had a clear-locker-top policy, and flowers were discouraged, to help in the battle with hygiene—and went up to the maternity ward.

‘We have protected lunchtimes, I’m afraid,’ the senior midwife told him firmly. ‘Sorry. You’ll have to come back later.’

‘Is there any chance you can bend the rules for me, as staff?’ Max asked. ‘I promise to be quiet. And I have a feeling that this particular patient hates being on bed rest. So that’s fifteen minutes or so when you won’t have to keep an eye on her and nag her, because I can do it for you.’

She glanced at his name-tag. ‘Ah. You work with Rosie’s sister?’

‘I do indeed.’ Max had no intention of giving the more complicated explanation—that Rosie was his ex-sister-in-law. He held out his free hand. ‘Max Fenton, emergency senior registrar.’

She shook his hand and introduced herself. ‘Iris Rutherford, senior midwife. No doubt we’ll be working together at some point.’

‘Good to meet you outside of a crisis.’ Max gave her his most charming smile.

‘All right. You can have fifteen minutes,’ Iris said. ‘But you’d better make sure she rests and doesn’t move, or I’ll be forced to scalp you.’

He laughed, enjoying her direct approach. ‘I will. Thank you, Iris.’

Max followed her directions; Rosie was in a room on her own, flicking listlessly through a magazine and looking very fed up.

‘Psst. Open for visitors?’ he asked from the doorway.

She looked at him, and then gave him a broad smile. ‘Max Fenton! What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Visiting you,’ he said, walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

Her eyes widened. ‘We’re not allowed visitors at lunchtime.’

‘I know.’ He laughed. ‘I begged.’

‘Charmed, more like. You always could melt women’s knees with that gorgeous smile of yours.’ She grinned and held her arms open. ‘Come and give me a hug, Max. It’s good to see you.’

‘And it’s good to see you, Rosie Petrelli.’ And even better to be hugged like that again. He’d missed the warmth of Marina’s family, and his own. Well…he’d always found his mother’s hugs stifling rather than warm. Though, now that everything was finally out in the open about his father, he could understand the way she behaved. Could sympathise, even.

‘I’m Rosie Brown nowadays.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the wedding, Max. But, apart from the fact that you’d cut off all contact with us, it would’ve been a bit—’

‘Awkward, given who was probably your chief brides-maid,’ he finished wryly, sitting on the chair next to her bed. ‘You did the right thing. I would’ve brought you some flowers, but I gather they’ve been banned from the hospital for a while. I hope these will do.’ He placed the goodies on her lap.

‘My favourites; you remembered I love white chocolate.’ She beamed at him. ‘And you managed to find the only puzzle magazine I haven’t already gone through. Thank you. That’s so, so sweet of you, caro.’

‘My pleasure. So how long have you been in here?’

‘Nineteen days, and counting,’ Rosie said with a rueful smile, ‘thanks to my bossy little sister.’

‘Marina picked it up?’ Max looked at her, surprised.

‘She was on a day off, so she came to have lunch with me. I wasn’t feeling brilliant; I thought it was just a bit of indigestion and a headache. But when I told her where the pain was she wasn’t happy about it. She said it was rare to get pre-eclampsia with a second baby, but she wanted it checked out. She made me call the midwife and then drink loads of water.’

Ready for a urine test, no doubt. Rosie wasn’t in the high-risk group, though: she was under thirty-five, her weight was average and it wasn’t her first pregnancy. As far as Max knew, there wasn’t a family history of pre-eclampsia, and Rosie wasn’t a diabetic. Plus, from what Marina had said, she was only expecting one baby, not twins or triplets. ‘So where was the pain? Just under your ribs?’

Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Spoken just like a doctor! Yes. And, yes, before you ask, there turned out to be a little bit of protein in my urine and my blood pressure was a bit on the high side.’

Knowing Rosie, that was a major understatement.

‘So they’re keeping me in to monitor the baby and keep an eye on me,’ she finished.

‘How far are you?’

‘Thirty-three weeks—and it’s driving me insane, being stuck here.’ She shook herself. ‘And here’s me being ungrateful. Marina’s been absolutely brilliant. And, yes, I do know she probably saved my life.’

If Rosie’s symptoms hadn’t been picked up so quickly, she could have been very ill—and there would’ve been a serious risk both to the baby and to Rosie herself. If Rosie’s condition had turned into eclampsia, both of them could have died.

‘She’s sorted out a place at the hospital crèche for Phoebe while I’m here, and she brings my baby in to see me every morning before her shift. She picks her up, too, if she’s on an early. Neil’s boss has been really good about him working more flexible hours, but it’s smack in the middle of the busy season.’

‘Busy season?’

‘It’s March—coming up to the end of the tax year. He’s an accountant,’ Rosie explained, ‘so normally he’d be working silly hours in the office, but because I’m stuck in here he’s having to bring work home and do it when Phoebe’s asleep. Mum and Dad have been brilliant, too. Dad’s painting the baby’s room and Mum’s keeping the house ticking over and making sure that there’s food in the fridge, so Neil can spend time here with me and Phoebe instead of worrying about housework and shopping and what have you.’

Exactly what Max would expect from the Petrellis, being there to help with practical things in a crisis. Part of him wondered: had he and Marina lived in London instead of Bristol, would her family have rallied round them and kept them together, helped them to work things through?

Too late for that now.

‘So when are they going to induce you?’ he asked.

‘It depends how things go. I know that it’s best to deliver the baby as late as possible, but the idea of being stuck here for another seven weeks, having injections and blood taken…’ She grimaced. ‘I tell you, if I was ever scared of needles, I’ve learned to overcome my phobia! Anyway, enough about me. We’re doing fine—aren’t we, Bambino?’ She rubbed the bump and smiled. ‘So, how are you doing?’

‘I’m fine.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. And that’s why you’ve got dark shadows under your eyes and you’re too thin. Don’t try to bluff me, Max.’

‘New city, new job. It takes time to settle in,’ he said lightly.

‘Maybe.’ She gestured to his name-tag. ‘But you’re also working in the emergency department with my sister. That can’t be easy—for either of you.’

He shrugged. ‘We’re professionals. Our patients won’t suffer.’

‘I’m not talking about the patients—I know you’re both professionals. I was talking about you two.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘I was really sorry when you and Marina broke up.’

‘Tell me about it. He forced himself to keep the words back. ‘Things happen,’ he said lightly.

‘So are you with someone now? What’s she like?’

He’d forgotten the other thing about Marina’s family: they had no scruples about asking personal questions. For a moment, he considered making up a story, but Rosie would know he was lying. ‘There’s nobody,’ he admitted. And then, to stave off further questioning, he added, ‘I spent a few years working for Doctors Without Borders. There wasn’t time for anything other than work.’

He wished he hadn’t said it when Rosie gave him a very perceptive look. ‘So that’s why we never got a Christmas card from you. Hmm. I happen to know someone else who throws herself into work. Someone who either finds excuses not to date, or makes it friends-only after just a couple of dates.’

Rosie wasn’t even trying to be subtle and, although part of him was annoyed, part of him was also amused. The Petrellis were notorious fixers. They were the kind of people who made lemonade out of lemons, who always saw the bright side. It was one of the things he’d adored about Marina; she was unlike anyone else he’d ever met. And the complete opposite of his mother: she saw sunshine where Kay Fenton saw clouds, was light where Kay was intense. Just like the rest of her family. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Rosie. Marina and I are colleagues. End of.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words.

‘It’s four years now since you split up. You’re both still single. That,’ Rosie said, ‘is extremely telling.’

‘And I think you’ve been teaching too much Romeo and Juliet,’ he said, still managing a smile. It was impossible to be offended with someone who so clearly wanted life to be happy. ‘A nice story.’

She scoffed. ‘Of course it isn’t a nice story. It’s a tragedy, Max. They both die at the end!’

‘And it unites their families.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘You know what I mean. Marina and I won’t be getting back together, Rosie. There’s way too much water under the bridge.’

Rosie gave him a telling look, but to his relief she didn’t try to labour the point. ‘Marina didn’t tell me you were working here.’

He shrugged. ‘I only started a couple of days ago.’

‘Hmm,’ Rosie said.

‘And neither of us knew the other was working here. It was a bit of a surprise for both of us.’

‘I’ll say,’ Rosie said drily.

He ruffled her hair. ‘I have to go. Iris says you have to sit still and be good, or she’ll scalp me. Is it OK if I come back tomorrow?’

‘Of course it is.’ She frowned. ‘Why are you even asking me that?’

‘I don’t want to make things awkward.’

‘With Marina, you mean? Or the rest of my family?’ She patted his hand. ‘Stop worrying. Of course it’s not going to be awkward. If anything, they’ll be pleased I’ve got someone else to come in and nag me to rest.’

He couldn’t help laughing. ‘Good.’

She smiled at him. ‘Thanks for coming, Max. It’s been really good to see you again.’

‘You, too.’ He hugged her, and left for the emergency department.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Rosie had told him.

Marina didn’t date.

He hadn’t dated much since he’d split up with Marina, either. Most of the time, he’d been too busy at work to bother with a relationship. But when he’d come back to England and had started dating again something had always been missing. He’d always ended up finishing a relationship before it had even got started.

If he was honest with himself, he knew why: because nobody had ever matched up to his ex-wife.

And Rosie had told him that there was nobody serious in Marina’s life, either.

Quite what that meant, he didn’t know. Did Marina still have feelings for him? But, in that case, surely she would’ve talked to him and asked him to give their marriage another try, instead of sending divorce papers to him? Or maybe marriage to him had disappointed her so much that she wasn’t prepared to try again with anyone else.

The only way to find out was to ask her.

Though, it wasn’t the easiest of subjects to broach. Particularly as they had to work together. Right now, they had a guarded working-relationship; not an easy one, but a tolerable one. Asking the wrong questions at the wrong time could tip it over into being intolerable—which wouldn’t be fair to their colleagues.

Last time, they’d rushed into things, and it had gone spectacularly wrong. This time, maybe he should try being patient.

And when the time was right, Max decided, then he’d ask those questions.

Chapter Four

OVER the next week, Marina found herself growing more and more aware of her ex. She knew exactly when Max walked into the department, even if she was busy treating a patient in cubicles and couldn’t see him. And, when they were working together in Resus, she was conscious of every single movement he made. Time and again she found herself glancing at him, only to find that he was looking at her too.

This was insane. They’d crashed and burned last time round. So why couldn’t they keep their eyes off each other?

Every time his hand brushed hers as she handed him an ampoule, or he passed her a syringe, or they looked at an X-ray together, her pulse started racing—because her body still remembered the way he used to touch her: the feel of his skin sliding against hers, the roughness of the hair on his chest, the softness of his mouth as he’d kissed her awake. The scent of his skin, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and dimples appeared in his cheeks when he laughed, the way desire flared in his eyes and turned them from slate-blue to hot black whenever he looked at her.

She really had to get a grip. If this carried on for much longer, she’d go crazy.

She and Max were not an item. They were never going to be an item again. And it was about time her head got that straight.

Rosemary; Max would’ve known that scent anywhere. So Marina still used the same shampoo, then.

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