What people are saying about Kate Hardy…

‘THE ITALIAN GP’S BRIDE is a

spellbinding romance that I devoured in a single

sitting! Kate Hardy is a fabulously talented writer

hose books never fail to make me laugh, cry and

care, and THE ITALIAN GP’S BRIDE is the latest

in a long line of captivating romances that have

made her one of my all-time favourite writers.’

–Cataromance on THE ITALIAN GP’S BRIDE, edical™ Romance August 07

Look out for Kate Hardy in Modern Heat™!

‘BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S is simply terrific!

Sexy, funny, tender, passionate and romantic,

this engrossing tale features a loveable heroine

and a gorgeous Italian hero who will make you swoon!

Kate Hardy is a writer readers can count on in order to

deliver an entertaining page-turner which

they will devour in a single sitting, and

BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S is certainly

no exception. So take the phone off the hook,

put your feet up and lose yourself…’

—Cataromance on BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S, July 07

Kate Hardy is the winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize 2008 for her Modern Heat™ novel BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S.

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 nearly 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

Recent titles by the same author:

Medical™ Romance THE SPANISH DOCTOR’S LOVE-CHILD THE DOCTOR’S ROYAL LOVE-CHILD (Brides of Penhally Bay) THE ITALIAN GP’S BRIDE

Modern Heat™ HOTLY BEDDED, CONVENIENTLY WEDDED SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER! BREAKFAST AT GIOVANNI’S

Dear Reader

Sometimes you really, really fall in love with a hero. And I fell head over heels for Rhys. Firstly, he’s a fabulous doctor—caring, gentle, and very good at what he does. Secondly, he has the most gorgeous voice. And thirdly, he understands Katrina’s hearing problem—he rescues her when she needs it, just as my husband rescues me when I haven’t caught what someone has said.

I also fell for Katrina’s family—because they remind me of mine! The kind of people who’ll celebrate the good times with you and always be there for you in the bad: the kind of family my hero Rhys has never had, but definitely deserves.

As I was writing the wedding scene, I was privileged to attend a special family wedding (my daughter was the flower girl). It was in a beautiful little country church, and I couldn’t resist borrowing both the wedding cake and the weather from the day! That’s why I’ve dedicated this book to my cousin Lee and his lovely bride Lucy, with congratulations and lots of love.

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

With love

Kate Hardy

THE CHILDREN’S DOCTOR’S SPECIAL PROPOSAL

BY

KATE HARDY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lee and Lucy,

with love

CHAPTER ONE

‘WELCOME back.’ Lynne greeted Katrina with a broad smile. ‘So how was Italy?’

‘Fabulous. Italy in late September is just perfect. It’s my new favourite place in the world,’ Katrina said. ‘Pompeii was stunning. And the Blue Grotto. And…’ She laughed. ‘That isn’t what you really want to know, is it? Yes, I brought Italian biscuits back for the ward. Seriously nice ones.’ She dangled a carrier bag in front of the charge nurse. ‘A big tin of them.’

‘Good girl.’ Lynne patted her on the back. ‘Just what we all wanted to hear. Though I’m glad you had a good time on holiday.’

‘How’s Sadie doing?’ Katrina asked, walking with Lynne to the kitchen and placing the biscuit tin on the worktop along with a note saying, Help yourself, with love from Kat.

‘Fine. Though she’s been missing your stories and wants to know when Doc-a-rina’s coming back.’

‘Oh, bless.’ Sadie, a two-year-old with a clicky hip that had been reset by the orthopaedic surgeon, was one of Katrina’s favourites; even though lying on a cot in traction must have been uncomfortable for the little girl, she never once complained and always had a huge smile for the medical staff. ‘I’ll go and see her in a minute before I start the ward rounds.’ Katrina switched on the kettle, then she slapped a hand to her forehead. ‘I almost forgot. The new consultant.’ He’d started the day after she’d gone on holiday, and she’d been off duty the day he’d come for his interview and a look round the ward, so she hadn’t yet met him. ‘What’s he like?’

Lynne nodded with obvious approval. ‘Gorgeous. And as soon as you hear that voice you just want it to start whispering sweet nothings to you.’

‘Except he’s unavailable because, like you, he was snapped up as a teenager?’ Katrina teased.

‘Nobody has a clue, but I’d say probably not. He’s excellent with the children, he’s polite and pleasant to the parents and the staff, but as for what makes him tick…’ Lynne shook her head ruefully. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. He’s refused every single invite to a team night out so far—politely, but very definitely.’

Katrina frowned. Most new consultants would accept every invitation going in the first couple of weeks, to help them get to know the team outside work and bond with them. ‘He’s not one of those who spend the bare minimum of time here and as much as possible in private practice, is he?’ she asked.

Lynne shook her head. ‘Far from it. He puts in the hours. He stays late—and if he does leave early, he’ll either ring in or come back to chase up some results.’

A workaholic, then, Katrina thought. Just as long as he didn’t expect everyone else to follow his lead—it wouldn’t be fair on colleagues who happened to have young families. ‘What’s he like to work with?’ she asked.

‘Quick, intuitive and—well, you’re about to find out for yourself. He’s just walked in.’ Lynne glanced towards the door. ‘Morning, Dr Morgan.’

‘Rhys,’ the doctor corrected with a smile.

And what a smile.

Lynne was right, Katrina thought. Rhys Morgan was absolutely gorgeous. Tall, with dark hair and fair skin and blue, blue eyes—pure Celtic colouring. And with a name like Rhys Morgan, she would’ve been very surprised had his voice not had that faint Welsh lilt.

That incredibly sexy Welsh lilt.

And an incredibly sensual mouth.

She pushed the thought away. Rhys Morgan was her new colleague, and she didn’t date colleagues. Not since Pete. She didn’t make the same mistake twice.

‘Good morning, Lynne,’ he said.

‘Rhys, this is Katrina Gregory, our senior house officer.’ Lynne introduced them swiftly. ‘Kat, this is Rhys Morgan, our new consultant.’

‘Hello, Rhys. Good to meet you,’ Katrina said, and stretched out her hand.

When he took it, she was surprised by the jolt of awareness that shot through her. One that was clearly mutual and just as surprising for him, judging by the way his eyes widened very slightly. But then he seemed to regain his control and gave her a polite smile, releasing her hand. ‘Hello, Katrina.’

‘The kettle’s about to boil and our rounds don’t start for another ten minutes. Coffee?’ Katrina asked.

‘Thanks. Black, no sugar, please.’

She spooned instant coffee into three mugs, adding sugar to Lynne’s and milk to her own before pouring on boiling water and handing the first mug to Rhys. ‘Help yourself to biscuits while you still get a chance. As soon as Lynne spreads the word, they’ll be gone.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘And if you’ll excuse me, I want to pop in and see Sadie before we start, to let her know I’m back.’

‘Sadie? The little girl with the clicky hip?’ he asked.

Katrina nodded. ‘Lynne tells me she’s been missing my stories.’

He looked slightly disapproving. ‘As a doctor, you need to keep a certain amount of distance. Don’t get too emotionally involved with your patients.’

‘I hardly think telling a story to a little girl who’s bed-bound is getting emotionally involved.’ And just who did Rhys Morgan think he was, telling her what to do? He may be the new consultant and, strictly speaking, her senior, but that didn’t mean he could tell her how to do her job. In her experience, taking a little extra time with their patients often did wonders—it helped them to settle, and she believed that anything that made the hospital a less scary experience for them was a good thing. ‘I enjoy my job, and I’m not going to apologise for taking five minutes of my own time to make a child’s day that little bit brighter. Excuse me,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ll be back in time for ward rounds.’

When Katrina walked into the cubicle, Sadie’s delighted smile took away that rattled feeling she’d had since meeting Rhys Morgan. ‘Doc-a-rina!’

‘Miss me, poppet?’ Katrina sat on the chair beside her, and ruffled her hair. ‘What a lovely welcome-back smile.’

‘Story?’ Sadie begged.

‘Later today. After you’ve had your lunch and I’m on my break,’ Katrina promised. ‘Hello, Jo,’ she said, turning to Sadie’s mother. ‘I’ll be doing the ward rounds in a few minutes, but I wanted to pop in and see you first. How’s it going?’

‘Dr Morgan says she’s doing really well. Hopefully we can go home at the end of the week—not that it’s horrible here,’ Jo hastened to add.

‘But there’s no place like home,’ Katrina finished, understanding just what Jo meant.

‘Good holiday?’ Jo asked.

‘Brilliant, thanks. I must be three inches shorter after all that walking, but it was worth it.’

Jo laughed. ‘If I’d known you wanted to be three inches shorter…’

‘Sorry. My cousin Maddie has first dibs on my spare height,’ Katrina teased back. ‘I’ll see you later. And my story for you today, Miss Sadie,’ she added, smiling at the little girl, ‘is all about a princess. Because when I was away I actually saw a magic cave—the one where a princess met the prince from under the sea.’

‘Mermaid,’ Sadie said happily.

‘Something like that,’ Katrina said. ‘See you soon.’

When Katrina joined Rhys for the ward rounds, she discovered that he was exactly as Lynne had described. Pleasant to the children, polite to their parents and patient enough to answer every single question and explain in more detail when it was needed. Professionally, she couldn’t fault him. And yet there was a reserve about him. Some kind of invisible wall. Like Lynne, Katrina couldn’t quite work out what made him tick.

She put it out of her mind so she could concentrate on her patients in the children’s assessment clinic for the rest of the morning, and then caught up with her cousin over lunch.

‘Welcome home, hon.’ Madison hugged her. ‘You look fabulous. Though I still think you were mad, going on a walking tour of the Amalfi coast.’

‘I saw a lot more than I would’ve done if I’d been stuck on a beach,’ Katrina pointed out.

‘So did you meet a gorgeous Italian prince while you were away?’

Madison really was incorrigible, Katrina thought. ‘No, but I’m making up a story for Sadie. About the prince from under the sea.’ She laughed. ‘Right up your street. Or it would have been, had you not met Theo.’ She paused. Madison had her finger on the pulse. She might know more about Rhys Morgan. ‘Have you met our new consultant yet?’ she asked, trying her best to sound casual.

‘Rhys Morgan?’ Madison nodded. ‘I called him into Theatre last week during a difficult birth—and the baby was absolutely fine, before you ask. He’s a nice guy. Knows his stuff but doesn’t throw his weight around.’

Oh, doesn’t he? Katrina thought, remembering what he’d said about Sadie.

Madison’s eyes sparkled. ‘Since you’re asking about him, Kat, does that mean you’re—?’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ Katrina interrupted, guessing what her cousin was about to ask. Since she’d found happiness with Theo, Madison had been trying to find the same for her cousin, and the matchmaking was driving Katrina crazy. ‘He’s nice enough, as you say—a good doctor—but he’s a bit reserved. And he told me off this morning for getting too emotionally involved with my patients.’

‘He has a point, hon. You do get too close to your patients,’ Madison said gently.

Katrina rolled her eyes. ‘I love my job. I love the ward. And, actually, telling stories to the kids is good for me. It’s the best stress-reliever I know, going off into a world of make-believe and seeing all these little faces smiling back at me.’

‘But you still worry about them when you get home. You never quite switch off.’

‘It goes with the territory.’ Katrina glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better get back. I promised Sadie a story over lunch, and I don’t want to upset the new consultant by being late for ward rounds this afternoon.’

‘Sounds to me as if you just got off on the wrong foot with each other. Give the guy a chance. He’s OK.’ Madison paused, looking concerned. ‘Not all men are like Pete, you know.’

‘I know that.’ Katrina rolled her eyes. ‘But not all men are potential partners, either. I’m happy to keep men as friends and colleagues.’

‘Hmm. When you find the right one, you’ll change your mind.’

Katrina ruffled her cousin’s hair. ‘I know you’ve found Mr Right, but it doesn’t happen for everyone. Anyway, I like my life as it is. I love my job, I have good friends, and I have the best family in the world. Not to mention the fact I’m going to be an auntie and godmother to the most gorgeous little girl in about four months’ time.’ Madison’s amniocentesis results had come through just before Katrina had left for Italy; to everyone’s huge relief, all was well. ‘I don’t need anyone, Maddie. I’m happy as I am.’

‘If you say so,’ Madison said.

‘I do.’ And the fact that she couldn’t get Rhys Morgan’s incredibly blue eyes out of her head, the fact that they reminded her of the colour of the sea on the Amalfi coast—well, that was just post-holiday silliness, Katrina told herself sternly. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She had enough time to tell Sadie a story about the princess and the merman meeting in the magic grotto, and then it was time to face Rhys again.

‘I see you admitted a couple of patients from the assessment clinic this morning,’ Rhys said.

He’d been in a different clinic that morning—so when had he had time to check what she’d been doing? Or maybe he’d just caught sight of the ward’s whiteboard where they listed the patients and their named nurses and he wanted a quick rundown on what she’d done before they did the ward round. Fair enough. She didn’t have any doubts about her clinical judgement.

‘There’s Jennie Myerson—the GP sent her in because her face was swollen, her blood pressure and temperature were up, she said her joints hurt, and there was blood in her urine,’ she explained. ‘She’s not on medication for anything, so it’s not an allergic reaction, but apparently she did have a sore throat a couple of weeks ago. So I wonder if it’s a staph infection causing interstitial nephritis.’

‘You’ve given her something for the blood pressure and paracetamol to deal with the pain and get her temperature down,’ he said, reading swiftly through the notes.

‘I also took bloods and I asked if her urine output could be measured. Are the results back from the lab yet?’

‘Not according to these notes.’

‘Then I’ll chase them after the ward round. But if I’m right and her ESR and urea are up, I’d like to do a renal ultrasound.’

‘I think you’re going to be right,’ he said, surprising her. ‘Her urine output’s way below what it should be. Did you ask if she’s allergic to penicillin?’

‘Yes, and there’s no family history, so they don’t think so.’

‘Good. You talk to the lab while I sort the ultrasound on her kidney. If the blood results are what you think they’ll be, we’ll start her on penicillin. This sort of condition can make a little one feel really rough.’

He went through the other patients on their list equally thoroughly, taking account of what Katrina said and also of the observations recorded by the nurses. Definitely a team player, Katrina thought. Someone who listened to others. Which was a good thing, as far as the ward was concerned.

So why was there still that wall between them?

Because, although Rhys was great to work with—intuitive, quick to sum up what was going on, understanding how their patients felt and calming the parents’ worries as they went from bed to bed—she was aware of a definite barrier between them. He barely even made eye contact with her.

Had it not been for Lynne’s comment earlier, she would’ve thought maybe it was just her. Although he hadn’t seemed to have a problem with her clinical judgement, he’d made it clear earlier that he thought she was too emotionally involved with their patients.

And there had been that weird prickle of awareness when he’d shaken her hand, which she was pretty sure he’d felt, too. Maybe this distance was his way of telling her that he had no intention of acting on it.

Well, that was fine by her. Because she didn’t want to act on it, either. She’d learned her lesson well: getting involved with a colleague was the quickest way to heartache. Never, ever again.

Later that afternoon, Rhys was walking past the ward’s playroom to his office when he heard laughter. Loud laughter. As if the children in the playroom were watching some kind of show, rather than being the general hum of noise of little ones playing independently. He couldn’t remember anyone talking about a visitor coming to entertain the children, and he knew there wasn’t a television in the playroom. So what was going on? Curious, he looked through the doorway.

And there at the far end of the room was Katrina. Sitting on a beanbag, with her feet tucked under her, surrounded by the more mobile children from the ward and what looked like most of the children from the waiting room. At first he thought she was reading them a story—and then he realised that she wasn’t holding a book. The story she was telling was straight out of her head, illustrated by a couple of glove puppets. She was getting the children involved, too—asking them questions so they made suggestions to shape the story, and persuading them all to join in with a simple song or a chorus.

He glanced at his watch. She should have been off duty half an hour ago. Yet here she was, entertaining the children.

This went beyond dedication.

Katrina Gregory clearly loved her job.

And the children clearly loved her all the way back. He’d noticed on the ward rounds how the newer parents turned straight to her for comfort, how the older ones greeted her as a friend. How the children brightened when they saw her and even the sickest ones could summon up a smile for Dr Katrina. Her warmth suffused everyone.

Even himself.

And, lord, he was tempted. Katrina was gorgeous. And it wasn’t just her personality: her midnight-blue eyes were stunning and her mouth was lush enough to make any man sit up and beg. When she’d shaken hands with him that morning, he’d been incredibly aware of her—of the softness of her skin, the light floral scent she wore, the quiet yet clear voice.

Irresistible.

He’d wanted her immediately.

And had held himself back, because it was highly unlikely a woman that attractive would still be single. Even though she didn’t wear a ring at work—he’d actually caught himself checking, during the ward round—she probably kept it on a chain round her neck, tucked inside her shirt for safety and staying close to her heart. And even if he’d got it wrong and Katrina was free, he was hardly in a position to offer her anything. His last girlfriend had told him he was so distant he might as well have been in Australia when they’d gone out together—and he knew she’d had a point. He was lousy at relationships, so it was best to stick to what he was good at. Work.

Katrina Gregory was his colleague—full stop and end of story.

Quietly, Rhys left the doorway and headed for his office.

CHAPTER TWO

THE following morning, Katrina was on her way out of Sadie’s cubicle when she saw Rhys in the corridor. ‘Morning,’ she said brightly, hoping that he wasn’t going to give her another lecture about being too close to her patients but quite ready to battle her corner if she had to.

‘Morning.’ He gave her one of the slow, sweet smiles he’d given Lynne in the kitchen the previous day—the smile that had made Katrina’s knees go ever so slightly weak—and all her annoyance melted away. ‘I’m with you in the children’s assessment clinic this morning.’

‘I thought I was on with Tim,’ she said. Their first-year foundation doctor was working mainly with her in the assessment clinic and she was enjoying his enthusiasm and freshness.

‘He called in sick this morning—he’s caught the tummy bug that’s going round. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,’ he said lightly.

‘I think I can manage,’ she said, equally lightly. Funny how the look in his eyes was making her heart beat that little bit faster. She really needed to get a grip. ‘Not that I’m trying to patronise you, but have you worked in the assessment clinic here before? I mean, you know how the system works?’

‘It’ll be my first time,’ Rhys said, ‘but I gather our patients are referred by their GPs or by the emergency department staff.’

She nodded. ‘We have a couple of paediatric nurses who do the usual checks when the children are brought in—height, weight, temperature, pulse, breathing rate, urine sample—and take a medical history, then we see the children in the order in which they arrive. Unless there’s an emergency, of course,’ she added, ‘but we do warn parents that emergencies take priority.’

‘Sounds like the same set-up we had back at the Cardiff Memorial Hospital,’ he said. ‘That’s fine by me. Do you want a coffee before we start?’

She glanced at her watch. ‘We haven’t really got time—not unless we make it with half-cold water. Who’s doing ward rounds this morning, if you’re not?’

‘Will.’

Will was the senior consultant: a tall, jolly man who had a fund of terrible jokes and even more terrible ties that their patients all loved. She grinned. ‘The poor nurses—not to mention the patients—will need sunglasses! At least your taste in ties is bearable.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that.’ His eyes glittered with mischief. ‘This is my third week here. I think it’s time to start a competition with Will in neckwear.’

She groaned. ‘Don’t tell me your wife and kids find them for you, too.’

‘Not married. No kids. No intention of having either.’

His voice was suddenly cool, breaking the light-hearted mood, and Katrina winced inwardly. Hadn’t Lynne said yesterday that the man was very guarded about his private life? ‘Sorry. I wasn’t fishing. Just that Will always says his wife and kids buy his loudest ties, and I assumed if you had a collection like his it’d be from the same kind of source.’ She raked a hand through her hair. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to pry. I apologise.’

‘No offence taken.’

But that invisible barrier was back between them again. And this time it felt a tiny bit wider.

Katrina tried her best to keep it professional in the assessment unit, though she was very much aware of Rhys’s presence—far more than she usually was with Tim or whoever else worked with her. Even when her back was to the room, she knew the precise moment that Rhys left his cubicle and went to call his next patient. And that was worrying. Why was she so aware of the man?

Her third patient that morning worried her even more. Petros was six, and looked very poorly.

‘He’s been a bit off-colour for the last two days, tired and feeling sick,’ his mother said. ‘And his back hurts.’

‘His temperature’s up and he’s a bit short of breath,’ Katrina observed.

Mrs Smith nodded. ‘And his wee’s very dark, even though I’ve tried to get him to drink plenty of water.’

The little boy had olive skin but there was a definite pallor around his mouth, and the whites of his eyes were slightly yellowish. ‘Hello, Petros. I’m Dr Katrina,’ she said softly. ‘Would you mind if I had a little look at you, please?’

He shrugged listlessly.

‘He’s really not himself,’ Mrs Smith said, biting her lip. ‘He’s always on the go. He’s never this quiet and still.’

Katrina squeezed Mrs Smith’s hand. ‘Try not to worry,’ she said gently. ‘He’s in the right place. Has anyone else in the family or any of his friends had similar symptoms?’

‘Everyone’s fine.’

So it was unlikely to be a virus, then. The most likely culprit was a urine infection, but the paediatric nurse had already done a dipstick test and it was clear. She didn’t like his breathing rate or temperature, though. ‘I’m going to listen to your heart and your breathing now, Petros. And afterwards, if you like, you can listen to Mummy’s.’

Petros shook his head but didn’t say a word.

‘OK. I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she said, and listened through the stethoscope. ‘Big breath in? And out. And in. And out. That’s lovely. Well done, sweetheart.’ His heart, at least, sounded fine. She was still thinking infection, though. ‘Can you open your mouth for me and say “ahh”?’ she asked.

Petros did so—the quietest ‘ahh’ Katrina had heard from a child in a while. There was no sign of infection in his throat, but his mouth and tongue definitely looked pale. ‘I’m going to need to take a blood test,’ she said to Mrs Smith. ‘I think he might be slightly jaundiced, because his eyes are a little bit yellow, so I want to check for that and anaemia.’

‘He had jaundice when he was born,’ Mrs Smith said. ‘But the midwife said it was really common with babies.’

‘It is—usually, if they get a bit of sunlight, the jaundice goes away within the first week,’ Katrina said.

‘It did.’

There was something nagging in the back of Katrina’s mind, but she couldn’t quite place it. ‘It’s been a lovely sunny few days, hasn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Have you been doing anything special, Petros?’

‘I went to Granddad’s garden,’ Petros said. ‘He grows magic beans.’

‘Like Jack and the Beanstalk? Wow. Did you meet the giant?’ Katrina asked.

The little boy didn’t even crack a smile, merely rubbed at his back.

‘OK, sweetheart. I’m going to give you something to take that pain away,’ she said gently, and gave him two spoonfuls of children’s paracetamol syrup. ‘This will help you to stop feeling quite so hot, too. Do you like your granddad’s garden?’

Petros nodded.

‘My father-in-law got an allotment this summer,’ Mrs Smith explained. ‘He’s been growing vegetables and Petros has been helping him. We call the broad beans “magic beans”—you know what it’s like, trying to get little ones this age to eat vegetables.’

‘Don’t I just.’ Katrina had played the ‘magic’ card herself before now with a variety of vegetables and a variety of patients.

‘Can I interfere?’ Rhys said, coming over to Katrina’s workspace.

Well, he was her senior. He had several years’ more experience than she did. And if he had any bright ideas, she was willing to listen: in Katrina’s view, the patient took priority. ‘Be my guest.’

He introduced himself swiftly. ‘Mrs Smith, these broad beans you mentioned—has your little boy eaten them before?’

‘No. Do you think he might be allergic to them?’

‘Not allergic, exactly. Petros is a Greek name, yes?’

She nodded. ‘It’s my grandfather’s name.’

He smiled at her. ‘May I ask, which part of Greece does your family come from?’

‘My husband’s from the East End—well, with a name like Smith that’s pretty obvious,’ she said wryly, ‘but my family’s originally from Cyprus. My grandparents came over to London just after the war and started a restaurant.’

‘Katrina, when you do that blood sample, can you get it tested for G6PD as well?’ Rhys asked.

‘Of course.’ The pieces clicked into place. ‘You think it’s favism?’

‘Yes—I’ve seen a few cases in Wales,’ he said.

‘What’s favism?’ Mrs Smith asked. ‘And what’s G6PD?’

‘G6PD is a chemical in your body—it stands for glucose 6 phosphate dehydrogenase, but it’s a bit of a mouthful so it’s known as G6PD for short,’ Rhys explained. ‘Some people have less than normal amounts in their red blood cells, and it’s quite common in people who have a Mediterranean origin. If you don’t have enough G6PD, then if you get a fever or take certain medicines or eat broad beans—what they call fava beans in America, which is why it’s called “favism”— then the body can’t protect your red cells properly and you become anaemic.’

‘With this condition, you might also get jaundice—and the symptoms mean you get backache and your urine looks the same colour as tea before you add the milk,’ Katrina added.

Mrs Smith nodded in understanding. ‘Like Petros’s does right now.’

‘Obviously we need to check the results of the blood tests,’ Katrina said, ‘but I think Rhys is right.’

‘So can you give him this G-whatever stuff in tablets or something?’ Mrs Smith asked.

‘I’m afraid there aren’t any supplements,’ Rhys said. ‘We’ll check how much iron is in his blood, and if there isn’t enough he might need a transfusion—but the good news is that Petros will feel a lot better with some rest and a little bit of oxygen to help him breathe more easily.’

‘The condition’s not going to affect him day to day,’ Katrina explained, ‘but he’ll need to avoid certain medications—aspirin, some antibiotics and some antimalarial drugs. I can give you a leaflet explaining all that so you know what to avoid.’

‘You’ll need to tell your GP as well so it’s on his medical record and he isn’t given any of the medications he needs to avoid by mistake,’ Rhys added. ‘And we should warn you now that if he gets an infection in future, it might mean his red cells are affected and he’ll get anaemia and jaundice again.’

‘And definitely no more broad beans,’ Katrina said.

‘Best to avoid Chinese herbal medicines, too,’ Rhys continued. ‘And, would you believe, mothballs? They contain a chemical in that can affect people with G6PD deficiency.’

Mrs Smith looked anxious. ‘But he’s going to be all right?’

‘He’s going to be absolutely fine,’ Katrina reassured her, ruffling Petros’s hair.

‘You said earlier it’s common in people from the Mediterranean—so I might have it too?’ Mrs Smith asked Rhys.

‘No, it’s more likely that you’re a carrier—the condition is linked with the X chromosome, so women tend to be carriers but because men only have one X chromosome they end up developing the disease,’ he explained.

Mrs Smith bit her lip. ‘So it’s my fault my son’s ill.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Rhys said emphatically. ‘It’s a medical condition and you had no reason to suspect there was a problem. Whatever you do, don’t blame yourself.’

‘And, anyway, you were the one who took him to the doctor—you did exactly the right thing,’ Katrina added. ‘Now, Petros, I need to take a little tiny sample of your blood so I can test it—but I have magic cream that means it won’t hurt at all. Is that OK?’

The little boy looked up at his mother and then, at her encouraging smile, nodded.

‘Wonderful. Now, you have to say a magic word as I put the cream on. Do you know a magic word?’

‘Please,’ Petros said.

‘Oh, honey. That’s lovely.’ Katrina’s heart melted. ‘And do you know another one that a magician might say?’

‘Abracadabra?’ the little boy suggested.

‘That’s perfect. Now, let’s say it together. After three. One, two, three…’ She took the pot of local anaesthetic gel. ‘Abracadabra.’ She applied it to his inner elbow. ‘Now, it takes a little while to work, so I’m going to let your mummy tell you a story while I see someone else who’s feeling a bit poorly, and then I’ll come back and see you, OK?’

The little boy nodded.

‘You might see a bit of redness on his skin,’ Rhys said to Mrs Smith, ‘but that’s nothing to worry about—it’s part of the way the anaesthetic works.’

‘Thank you both so much.’ Much of the strain had gone from Mrs Smith’s face.

‘That’s what we’re here for,’ Rhys said with a smile.

Mrs Smith took Petros back over to the waiting area. After Katrina had seen her next patient, she called Petros back and took the blood sample, chatting to him and telling him some of the awful jokes she’d learned from Will to keep him distracted while she slid the needle into his vein. ‘All done. That’s brilliant,’ she told the little boy, pressing a piece of cotton wool over the site and holding it there for a few seconds before taping it on. ‘Did it hurt?’

He shook his head.

‘Good.’ She turned to Mrs Smith. ‘The results should be back later this afternoon—then I’ll know a lot more and we can talk it through. I’ll come and find you as soon as they’re back. I know it’s a pain having to wait around, and I’m sorry we can’t speed the procedure up at all. But there’s a coffee bar just outside the department if you want to go and get a drink, and across the corridor there’s a play area—there are loads of books and toys and what have you there.’ She smiled at Petros. ‘So we’ll see you a bit later on, OK, sweetheart?’

He nodded.

‘And then I’ll be able to make you feel a lot better,’ she said.

After the clinic had finished, Rhys looked round for Katrina. She wasn’t there, but when he stepped into the corridor he saw her near the double doors. ‘Katrina,’ he called, ‘are you heading for the canteen?’

She ignored him completely, letting the doors swing shut behind her.

Rhys stopped in his tracks, staring after her. She’d just blanked him. Had he upset her by butting in on her patient that morning? She hadn’t seemed upset at the time…but maybe she’d put on a professional front for the patient’s sake. Fine. He’d have a word with her later, explain that he hadn’t intended to cast any aspersions on her ability. From what he’d seen, Katrina was good at her job, and the last thing everyone needed was a personality clash to disrupt the harmony of the ward.

Rather than going to the canteen, he went to the ‘grab and go’ bar for a coffee and a sandwich that he ate at his desk while sorting out some paperwork.

Mid-afternoon, the same thing happened: he saw Katrina about to enter the staff room, called her name—and she completely ignored him.

Oh, great.

Was she still sore about that morning? Or maybe from the previous day, when he’d reminded her about the importance of professional detachment?

He couldn’t let this go on. He didn’t want to tackle her about it in the staffroom, though. It would be too public and embarrassing for both of them. No: after their shift, he’d have a quiet word with her in his office and hopefully he’d be able to reach some kind of truce with her.

Lynne called him to examine a patient; on his return, he saw Katrina sitting on the bed next to one of their patients, talking to the parents. Both parents had red eyes, and the child was white-faced. He frowned. Ruby Jeffers had been admitted with meningitis the previous week. He knew she’d been having some hearing problems and she’d had an appointment in the audiology department earlier that day in case the virus had caused damage to the cochlea or inflammation of the auditory nerve. Clearly the news wasn’t good, and he wasn’t that surprised because he knew that meningitis caused deafness in around seven per cent of children who’d had it.

But what did surprise him was when Katrina pushed her hair up on her left side. What was she doing, showing the little girl a pretty earring or something? Or maybe doing some kind of distracting magic trick, because she pulled something from her ear.

But the little girl still wasn’t smiling.

He frowned, drawing closer, and heard a snatch of conversation. ‘See? It’s really easy to take out. And easy to put in. It doesn’t hurt because it’s made to measure.’

What was?

‘What they do, they have some special stuff to make a mould. It looks like play dough and it’s pink and purple. They mix it together—and then they put it into your ear. It feels a bit weird, but it doesn’t hurt. You can feel it getting a little bit warmer, and then when they take it out they’ve got the exact shape of your ear and they can make you a special mould that fits your ear only.’

Ear? Mould?

Everything suddenly fell into place.

Ruby’s audiology test must have shown that she had hearing loss—if a further test in six weeks didn’t show a marked improvement it was very likely that she would need a hearing aid. But the way Katrina was talking felt personal—as if she knew exactly what it felt like, rather than what the audiology team had told her.

‘And you know that test you did, where you had to listen for the beeps? That showed the audiologist what you could hear. So then they can programme the hearing aid to help you hear the bits you can’t hear right now, but they don’t make the bits that you can hear any louder.’

‘And it doesn’t hurt?’ Ruby asked.

‘Nope. Once it’s in, I forget it’s even there—like I said, it’s made to fit you perfectly, and only you. Feel. It’s not heavy, is it?’

Rhys realised then that Katrina was definitely talking personally.

She wore a hearing aid.

‘And watch this.’ Katrina lifted her hair again, took the aid from the little girl’s hand and slipped it back into her ear. ‘Push this switch to turn it on—and, hey, presto, I’ve got a bionic ear. I can hear the same as your mum and dad now—well, almost.’

‘So you can’t hear, like me?’ Ruby asked, looking surprised.

‘Nope. And it hasn’t stopped me doing anything I want to do.’ She laughed. ‘Well, obviously I don’t wear it if I go swimming. It’d be like putting your handheld game console in the bath.’

Ruby giggled. ‘That’d be silly. It doesn’t work if it gets wet.’

‘Exactly.’ Katrina smiled at her. ‘So if your next test shows that you do need a hearing aid, you’ll know not to worry because you’ll be fine. And you can get special help at school if you need it.’ She looked at Ruby’s parents. ‘There are support groups, and the audiology team can work with Ruby’s school. And, believe me, a hearing aid takes a lot of the struggle out of lessons. There won’t be any difference between Ruby and everyone else in her class.’ She smiled at Ruby. ‘Except you can show people exactly what the inside of your ear looks like and really gross them out. Oh, and you can choose your colour. I had to have a clear mould because I’m a grown-up, but you can have a pink sparkly one if you want.’

‘Really?’ Ruby’s face brightened.

‘Really. Or a purple one. I really wanted a bright blue one to match my eyes, but grown-ups don’t get to have the fun ones.’

Rhys withdrew, feeling a complete and utter heel. Now he understood why Katrina had ignored him: she hadn’t heard him. And because he’d called out from behind her she hadn’t seen him either, so she’d had no idea he’d even spoken. Considering he’d been about to accuse her of deliberately ignoring him and being petty… Guilt flooded through him. Admittedly, he hadn’t known Katrina Gregory for very long, but in that day and a half he’d really been aware of how warm and sweet she was. She wasn’t the type to be petty or to bear grudges and give someone the silent treatment.

He really should stop judging people by his own family’s behaviour.

And he most definitely owed Katrina an apology.

Katrina dropped by his office later that afternoon. ‘I’ve got Petros Smith’s blood results back. You’re right—it’s G6PD. Thanks for picking that up. There was something nagging in the back of my mind but I couldn’t quite place it.’

‘That’s what colleagues are for,’ he said lightly. ‘Do you want me to come and talk to them with you?’

‘No, that’s fine. I can see you’re busy.’

‘If you’re sure. The offer’s there.’ He paused. ‘Actually, before you go, can you close the door a second?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘I’d like a quick word with you.’

She looked wary, but did as he asked. ‘What is it?’

‘Sit down. I’m not going to bite your head off. It’s just…’ He sighed. ‘I owe you an apology.’

She blinked, but sat down. ‘An apology? Why?’

‘I called you earlier. On two separate occasions. You ignored me.’

She flushed. ‘Sorry, I—’

‘Let me finish,’ he cut in. ‘I thought it was deliberate, so I was going to ask you into my office for a quiet chat and sort out whatever the problem was. Then I overheard you talking to Ruby Jeffers and her parents—and I realise now you didn’t hear me.’

She winced. ‘Sorry. Sometimes it’s difficult at work, especially in an open area—it gets a bit noisy and I have to rely on lip-reading a lot more than I do at home.’

‘Don’t apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong—but now I know about it, I’ll make sure you’re facing me and that I’ve got your attention before I talk if it’s noisy.’

‘Thank you.’ She stood up. ‘I’d better go and see the Smiths.’

He knew he should leave it there. They had a truce. But something seemed to take over his mouth, and he found himself saying, ‘Before you do—would you have dinner with me this evening?’

She looked surprised. ‘But you don’t…’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t do team nights out.’

‘I’m not very good with crowds.’ He rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I’m not much of a drinker, I loathe karaoke and that sort of thing, and I’d rather go out for a good meal and a decent conversation than sit at the end of a huge table, not really knowing anyone and being only too aware that I was only invited because everyone’s being polite and it’s cramping their style having the consultant around.’

‘I see.’

Her expression intrigued him. ‘Why did you think I said no to team nights out?’

‘You mean, when most new consultants would go on absolutely everything to try and bond with the team?’ She spread her hands. ‘No idea. Maybe you have a complicated home life.’

‘There’s just me,’ he said softly. ‘No ties of any sort. So it’s pretty simple.’

‘Well, thank you for asking me,’ she said politely, ‘but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I don’t believe in dating colleagues. If it doesn’t work out, it makes life very awkward for everyone else on the ward.’

His brain registered her refusal—but her reason told him something else. She hadn’t refused because she was already involved with someone else or because she wasn’t interested in him: she’d refused because he was her colleague.

‘You’re right, it can make things difficult,’ he agreed. He’d seen it happen with other people rather than experienced it himself; in the past, he’d dated people who worked in the same hospital, but never colleagues from his own ward. ‘I’m asking you out to dinner because we’ve got off on the wrong foot and I’d like us to start again as colleagues—and it’s a more civilised way of starting a good working relationship.’

‘The wrong foot.’ She pursed her mouth. ‘You were telling me how to do my job yesterday.’

He’d wondered if she’d bring that up. ‘I was concerned that you’re getting too emotionally involved with your patients. That’s not healthy for you or for the patient.’ He smiled to soften his words. ‘But I saw you telling a story in the playroom yesterday afternoon.’

‘On my time, not the ward’s time.’ She folded her arms. ‘And I assume you want me to stop?’

‘No. Actually, I was thinking you’d be a natural as a teacher.’

Her face relaxed. ‘My best friend from school’s a primary school teacher. She uses a puppet to tell stories to her class and it works well, so I borrowed her idea for the ward.’

‘And it’s a good one. The children seemed to enjoy it.’

‘Anything that makes hospital easier for them and reduces the stress on their parents means that they can spend their energy on getting well. And it helps the brothers and sisters, too.’ She spread her hands. ‘And I enjoy it. If we’ve had one of those days where everything’s gone wrong, seeing the smiles on the faces of the little ones always makes me remember that life’s good.’

‘So you’re a glass-half-full person?’ he asked.

‘Definitely.’

‘Then have dinner with me tonight. As colleagues—and potential friends,’ he said.

She looked at him for a long, long moment. ‘Not a date.’

‘Not a date,’ he confirmed. ‘And you can choose where we go.’

‘All right. Thank you. Do you want to go straight after work?’

‘After,’ he said, ‘you’ve done your story.’

Her smile was the sweetest reward he could have asked for. ‘I’ll come and collect you, then. See you later.’

‘See you later,’ he said softly.

CHAPTER THREE

THIS wasn’t a date, Katrina reminded herself as she walked from the playroom to Rhys’s office. It was the beginning of a working relationship. And, as she’d told Madison, she was perfectly happy with her life the way it was.

She rapped on Rhys’s open door and leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Ready?’

He looked up from his computer. ‘Can you give me three minutes while I save this file and switch off the computer?’

He was as good as his word, saving the file immediately, logging off then and switching off the machine. ‘So where are we going?’ he asked as he stood up.

‘Do you like Moroccan food?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. There’s a really fabulous Moroccan restaurant a couple of streets from here called Mezze—Maddie and I go there a lot.’

‘Maddie? Ah, now I know why you looked familiar when I first met you. Madison Gregory in Maternity—she’s your sister?’

‘As good as, yes,’ Katrina said. ‘Technically, she’s my cousin, but our dads have a family business and our mums are best friends, so we grew up together.’ She laughed. ‘Because she’s two years older than I am, Maddie likes to point out that she’s the big sister. Even though she’s still shorter than I am when she’s wearing spike heels and I’m barefoot, bless her.’ She paused. ‘What about you—do you have any brothers or sisters?’

‘I’m an only child.’

His voice was neutral, but Katrina was used to watching faces and picking up visual clues to compensate for years of not quite being able to hear someone’s tone. She was sure that Rhys was masking something. Though as they were still getting to know each other, now wasn’t the time to push him to talk to her, the way she would have pushed Will or Tim or any of the nursing staff on the ward.

She kept the conversation light until they reached Mezze. As they walked in, Rhys took in their surroundings—the rich saffron walls, the ruby and terracotta silk cushions, the tealight candles in stained-glass holders in the centre of the glass- topped tables. Katrina thought he looked as impressed as she’d felt when she and Madison had first discovered the restaurant.

‘Good evening, Katrina. Your usual table?’ the waiter asked.

‘Thanks, Hassan. That’d be lovely.’

When they were settled at a table with menus and had ordered a sparkling mineral water, Rhys raised an eyebrow. ‘I know you said you come here a lot…but the staff here actually know you by name?’

‘I love Moroccan food,’ she said simply. ‘Maddie hates cooking, so we tend to come here most weeks. Either here, or there’s a really fabulous pizzeria in the next street.’

‘So you know the menu well.’ His eyes took on a teasing glint. ‘Or are you boring and pick the same thing each week?’

‘I tend to choose the same pudding, I admit,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I’ve tried everything on the menu.’ And there was a long, long list of dishes.

‘So what do you recommend?’

Katrina leaned back against her chair. ‘We could be boring, and order a starter each and a main course. Or…’ She paused. ‘We could order a huge pile of starters and share it like a mezze.’

He laughed. ‘I can guess which you’d prefer. A huge pile of starters it is.’

She talked him through the menu and when Hassan brought their drinks over they were ready to order a selection.

‘So tell me about yourself,’ Katrina said when Hassan had gone.

Rhys shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell. I’m Welsh—well, with a name like Rhys Morgan and my accent, that’s pretty obvious. I grew up in South Wales, I trained in Cardiff and I moved to London just over three weeks ago.’

That didn’t tell her much about him at all—his dreams, his passions in life—but before she had the chance to ask anything else, he said, ‘Your turn.’

‘I’m English, I grew up in Suffolk and I trained in London.’ The same bare facts that he’d given her. Although maybe telling him more might encourage him to open up to her, she decided. ‘I never wear pink—my cousin Maddie has the girly gene in the family—and I loathe the romantic comedies she insists on dragging me to.’ She smiled wryly. ‘She hates the kind of films I like. And going to an arthouse cinema on my own feels a bit…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, I prefer to go with someone so I can talk about the film afterwards. That’s half the fun of a cinema trip.’

‘What would you define as arthouse films?’ he queried.

‘This is where you can officially label me weird,’ she said. ‘Not modern ones—really old ones. Films like Citizen Kane and Vertigo. I have a bit of a soft spot for film noir.’

‘Good choice,’ he said. ‘I really like the ones written by Cornell Woolrich as well as the Raymond Chandler films.’

She blinked, then fiddled with her hearing aid. ‘Nope, it’s working,’ she said. ‘Tell me—did I imagine it or did you really just say “Cornell Woolrich”?’

‘I did.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve got all his short stories, too. I discovered them when I was a teenager and loved them—mind you, after one particular story it took me two years before I could order lamb again. And in a Welsh pub that’s a bit difficult.’

She laughed, knowing exactly which story he meant—a tale with a twist that had had exactly the same effect on her. ‘I think,’ Katrina said, ‘you and I are going to get on very well together.’

He lifted his glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

Her fingers brushed against his as they clinked glasses, and that same weird awareness she’d felt when she’d first shaken his hand seemed to fizz through her body.

An awareness she wasn’t going to act on. She already knew first-hand what happened when you dated a colleague and it went wrong. The awkwardness of having to work together afterwards, trying not to think about just how intimately you knew each other. The embarrassment of everyone knowing what a failure your relationship was, thanks to the hospital grapevine. And, worse still, in a break-up as messy as hers had been with Pete, your colleagues on the ward feeling forced to take sides… No. She wasn’t risking that happening ever again. Her relationship with Rhys was going to be a friendship—and nothing more.

Their food arrived, a huge platter containing little dishes and a heap of rustic bread.

‘Lamb.’ She gestured to the skewers of meat rubbed with spices and then chargrilled.

He laughed. ‘That’s a barefaced attempt to get me to leave it all for you to scoff.’

‘Rats. My dastardly plan has been foiled,’ she said, laughing and breaking off a piece of bread so she could scoop up some of the roast aubergine purée. ‘Mmm. This is good.’

He tried the tabbouleh. ‘So’s this. Is that cinnamon I taste?’

‘And watercress.’ She paused. ‘Is your palate honed that well by eating out a lot, or do you cook as well?’

‘I eat out a fair bit,’ he admitted. ‘I can cook—but if I’ve worked late it’s quicker and easier to stop somewhere on the way home.’

If? From what Lynne had said, it was more like ‘when’, she thought.

‘How about you?’ he asked.

‘Cooking relaxes me. I like experimenting.’ She smiled. ‘And anything involving chocolate.’

He gestured to the table. ‘No chocolate here.’

‘Ah, but you wait until you try the chocolate and cardamom ice cream from the dessert menu.’

As they worked their way through the little savoury pastries stuffed with cheese, the stuffed vine leaves and the felafel, Rhys asked, ‘So how was little Petros Smith?’

Katrina wrinkled her nose. ‘His haemoglobin levels weren’t brilliant, but nowhere near bad enough to need a transfusion, and I think it would’ve been more stressful for him if I’d admitted him—so I let his mum take him home. I gave her a leaflet about Petros’s condition and told her what to look out for; she’s promised to bring him straight back to us if she’s worried at all. He should pick up with a bit of rest— and the main thing is that his family knows now that there’s a problem and what he needs to avoid in future.’

‘That’s good. What about the Jeffers family?’

‘They’re coming to terms with the situation,’ Katrina said. ‘They have another audiology appointment in six weeks’ time, but they were warned this morning that Ruby’s fairly likely to need an aid.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I wish health screening had been as good when I was a kid.’

Clearly Katrina had had hearing difficulties for a long time, Rhys thought. ‘So how long have you been deaf?’

‘I’m not profoundly deaf—it’s moderate to severe hearing loss,’ she explained. ‘Looking back, it started when I was about seven, but nobody picked it up until Maddie was at med school and did a module on audiology. I was in my first year, she was in her third, and you know what it’s like when you’re a med student—you read up on symptoms and you spot them in yourself or other people.’

‘Yes, I remember doing that myself,’ he said with a smile.

‘Anyway, she nagged me to go and get my hearing checked. She even came with me to the audiology department for moral support, bless her. And that’s when we found out.’

‘Why didn’t anyone pick it up earlier?’ he asked.

‘I was a bit of a dreamer as a child—well, I still am, from time to time—so everyone thought I was just on Planet Katrina and wasn’t listening.’ She shrugged. ‘And you know what it was like when we were young. They simply didn’t do the kind of screening they do now.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I say “we”. I’m twenty-eight, and I assume you’re not that much older than I am?’

‘I’m thirty-two,’ he confirmed. ‘So it was a bit of a shock when you got the results?’

She nodded. ‘All I could think of was that I was too young to be going deaf—that it was something that only happened to geriatrics.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘And that’s despite the fact that there were several children in the waiting room for the audiology test. I have to admit I was struggling a bit to hear in lectures, but I thought it was just the acoustics of the theatre—that the place was full so it swallowed up noise. You know, in the same way that empty tube trains are much noisier than ones that are stuffed with people in the rush hour.’

‘So having an aid fitted made a difference?’

‘And how.’ Her face was suddenly animated. ‘It was incredible. I discovered I could hear better from the back of the auditorium than I’d ever been able to do from the front. And the dawn chorus…I’d never been able to hear it before. Well, not that I remember, anyway. I drove everyone bananas for the first couple of months, wanting to know what each new sound was.’ She smiled. ‘I was really lucky and had one of the digital aids straight off—the microprocessor is programmed to fit my personal pattern of hearing loss. It’s never going to be quite as good as having full hearing, I know, but it’s made a big difference to me and I don’t get so tired—I don’t have to concentrate quite so hard talking to people, or rely on subtitles on a television screen.’

‘I had no idea you had a hearing difficulty until I saw you take your hearing aid out and show Ruby,’ he said.

‘I suppose I should have told you.’ She shrugged. ‘But, then again, just because I can’t hear that well, it doesn’t mean I have to be treated differently.’

He blinked in surprise. ‘Why on earth do you think I would have treated you differently?’

‘Some people can be a bit funny about it when they find out. They start talking really loudly—as if that makes any difference —or they treat me as if I’m slow and can’t understand what they’re saying. Which, I have to admit, drives me crazy. If you talk to me and I’m not facing you, I don’t always realise that you’re talking to me and I might not pick it up, but otherwise I’m just your average person.’

Average? No, she wasn’t just your average person. There was something special about Katrina Gregory.

Rhys suppressed the thought as quickly as it arrived. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. There wasn’t room in his life.

‘So I don’t tend to tell people unless they notice,’ she finished. ‘It avoids the fuss.’

He could understand that. He didn’t like fuss either. ‘Do you know what caused your hearing loss?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘I had a CT scan because there was a spike in the higher frequencies and they wanted to rule out anything nasty, like an acoustic neuroma.’ She grinned. ‘I asked if I could have a picture. I thought they’d print something on paper, but they actually gave me a film. It’s fabulous. Maddie says I only did it so I could show everyone and prove that there was a brain in my head—but that’s because I got higher marks in my exams than she did.’

Katrina’s expression told him that this was mutual affectionate teasing rather than a bitchy swipe. Rhys found himself wondering what it would’ve been like to grow up with a sibling or close cousin teasing him like that.

His family didn’t do teasing.

If the truth were told, they didn’t do anything except avoid each other.

‘I take it the scan was clear?’ he asked.

‘Yes. And after talking to me the registrar said he thought my hearing loss was probably caused when I had mumps as a child. Maddie still has the odd guilty fit about it, because she says she’s the one who gave me mumps so therefore it’s her fault I can’t hear properly.’ Katrina flapped a hand. ‘But that’s just ridiculous. She’s also the one who gave me my hearing back, because if she hadn’t nagged me about it I probably wouldn’t have bothered getting a referral to audiology—I would’ve carried on as I was, assuming that I was completely normal because I didn’t know any different, and struggling a bit more than I’d ever admit to because I didn’t want to be treated differently.’

Rhys went very still. A child with a virus causing a serious condition. It was a little too close for comfort to his past. ‘So your family blames Maddie for your hearing loss?’ he asked.

‘No, of course they don’t!’ She frowned. ‘How on earth can you blame a child for falling ill? It’s not Maddie’s fault that she picked up a virus at school—the same as it wasn’t my fault that I caught it too and it affected me in a different way to the way it affected her.’ She shrugged. ‘These things just happen. You can’t let it ruin the rest of your life.’

These things just happen.

How very different his life might have been if his family had chosen that line of thought. If they’d been strong enough to pull together instead of letting his little sister’s death tear them apart.

‘Are you all right, Rhys?’ she asked, looking slightly concerned.

‘I’m fine.’ You couldn’t change the past, so in his view there was no point in talking about it. ‘And you’re right about this food. It’s fabulous.’

Katrina realised that Rhys had deliberately changed the subject. Something was clearly wrong, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Not here and now, at least. Maybe he’d open up to her when they got to know each other a little better.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about food and films and books, and Katrina was surprised by how much their tastes meshed. But it wasn’t just that. There was something about Rhys. Something in his blue, blue eyes that made her heart beat a little bit faster and made her wonder what it would feel like if that beautiful mouth slid across her own. Which shocked her, as she hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone—hadn’t even thought of kissing anyone—since Pete. Hadn’t thought of a man in terms of anything other than as a colleague for the last couple of years.

This was crazy.

Particularly as Rhys worked with her.

Been there, done that, worn the T-shirt to shreds. She certainly wasn’t going to risk a repeat of what had happened with Pete—the horrendous atmosphere that had, in the end, forced her to move hospitals to get away from the awkwardness. She loved working at the London Victoria—really loved the way everyone on the ward was like a huge extended family. No way would she be stupid enough to forget that lesson now, have an affair with Rhys and end up having to leave here, too.

Finally, after hot sweet mint tea and tiny pastries soaked in honey, she leaned back in her chair. ‘I’m almost too full to move.’

‘You should’ve left me the lamb,’ he said with a grin.

‘Baa,’ she retorted. Then she glanced at her watch. ‘Do you know, we’ve been here three hours?’ And yet it had felt like minutes.

‘I’d better get the bill,’ he said.

‘No, we’re going halves,’ she protested.

‘Absolutely not. This was my idea—my apology to you.’

‘Ah, but we’re friends now. And friends share.’

He folded his arms. ‘Don’t argue with me, Dr Gregory, or I’ll pull rank.’

‘Bossy, huh?’ But she wasn’t going to argue—she’d had much a better idea. ‘Tell you what. You can pay this time, but next time’s my bill. We can go and see a film in Leicester Square or something and talk about it over tapas afterwards.’

‘That,’ he said, ‘would be lovely. I’d like that.’

After Rhys had paid the bill, he insisted on seeing Katrina home.

‘There’s no need, you know,’ she said. ‘I’ve lived in London for ten years now. I’m used to being independent.’

‘Humour me. It’s a Welsh thing.’

‘So you’re Sir Lancelot?’ she teased.

‘Lancelot was French. Gawain, on the other hand, was Welsh.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, I can see I’m going to enjoy being friends with you, Rhys Morgan.’

He laughed back. ‘So are you going to let me see you home?’

‘If you insist. You could probably do with walking some of this food off, too,’ she added cheekily.

They left the restaurant and walked through the back streets. Eventually, Katrina paused outside a small Victorian terraced house. ‘This is mine. Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ she asked.

Although Rhys knew it would be more sensible to refuse—things were already going fast enough to set alarm bells ringing in his head—at the same time he didn’t want the evening to end just yet. ‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’

‘Good.’ She unlocked the door, then ushered him into the sitting room. ‘Take a seat. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Katrina’s house radiated calm. Pale walls, plants everywhere, and shelves of books and films. No music, though, he noticed. That was clearly one of the areas where he and Katrina differed. And that probably had much to do with her hearing.

There were framed photographs on the mantelpiece and he walked over to take a closer look. A picture of Katrina with her cousin at what was obviously Madison’s graduation; another of Katrina in graduation robes with people who he assumed were her parents; another taken of Katrina, Madison and both sets of parents in a garden; more photographs of Katrina’s parents. The warmth of the family relationship was so obvious that Rhys felt a twist of envy: it was the complete opposite from his own family background.

Though in the circumstances he couldn’t blame his father for walking away and trying to find happiness elsewhere. And, given that she’d lost a child and her marriage had disintegrated, he couldn’t blame his mother for the way she was either. As Rhys had grown up, he’d come to terms with the way things were. And he’d worked out that it was much, much easier to be self-sufficient and keep people close enough to be professional, but far enough away so there was no risk of losing them from his life and getting hurt.

It wasn’t as if there was a gap in his life. He had a job he was good at, a job he really, really loved; he had his music and his books and his films to fill his spare moments; and that was all he needed. Becoming involved with Katrina Gregory would just complicate things. He needed to get them back on the right sort of footing—colleagues and acquaintances only—and fast.

Katrina, walking back into the living room with two mugs of coffee, noted the expression on Rhys’s face. Polite but distant again. Where was the man who’d chatted with her in the Moroccan restaurant, who’d relaxed enough with her to tease her back and laugh with her?

‘One black coffee,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’ He gave her a polite smile.

She couldn’t think of a single reason why he would suddenly be so reserved with her, not after the evening they’d shared. Knowing how easily a small communication lapse could turn into something huge, she decided to face it head-on. ‘Rhys, is something wrong?’

‘Wrong? No.’

‘But you’ve gone quiet on me.’

‘I’ve just realised how late it is. And I’m afraid I’m a lark rather than an owl.’

‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘Which means I end up drinking huge amounts of coffee on team nights out to keep me awake.’

‘Sounds like a good plan.’

She sighed inwardly. He was definitely back to being polite and reserved. And she couldn’t think of a single thing to say without it sounding inane or babbling.

The silence stretched until it was almost painful. And then he drained his mug. ‘Thank you for the coffee.’

‘Thank you for the meal,’ she said, equally politely. ‘And I hope you weren’t just being nice when you said about going to the cinema with me. It’s so rare to find someone who likes the same sort of films I do.’

He looked torn, but then he shook his head. ‘No, I meant it.’

‘Good. Then maybe we can check the listings together tomorrow, see what’s showing later in the week. If you’re not busy, that is.’

‘That’d be nice.’ He stood up. ‘Goodnight, Katrina.’

‘Goodnight.’ She saw him to the door. ‘See you on the ward.’

And when she washed up their coffee mugs, she was frowning. What had made Rhys suddenly clam up on her like that? Unless… She swallowed as the memories came back. Unless Rhys had had time to think about things and took the same view as Pete had. That her hearing was going to be an issue.

She’d thought she’d learned from her mistakes—but it was beginning to look as if she hadn’t.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN the going gets tough, Katrina thought, the tough get cooking. And as she was on a late shift the next day, she spent the morning at home baking brownies. Lots of them. The combined scents of chocolate and vanilla lifted her mood, and by the time she’d walked into work she was feeling a lot more serene.

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