free for lunch on Sunday?
Jess wasn’t about to admit that those seven words were the ones that she’d been waiting for ever since she’d last seen Greg. She texted back with the minimum of information.
Yes.
Come over to mine. I’ll make lunch. You can give me a rundown on what you want me to do.
‘Don’t tempt me… ’ She hissed the words between her teeth, but couldn’t help smiling to herself. He might have left her hanging, and it might have hurt, but Jess wasn’t quite sure what she would have done if he hadn’t. If Greg had come knocking on her door, she might just have taken fright and pretended she wasn’t home.
Sounds good. What time?
I’ll pick you up at twelve.
No, that was one step too far for the moment.
Send me your address. I’ll make my own way.
There was a pause, and then her phone beeped again. His address, along with an electronic smile. Nothing like his real smile. Good. It was far too early to start thinking about all the things his smile did to her.
The climb up to the top floor wasn’t anywhere near long enough to make her feel dizzy, but then Greg answered the door. A blue shirt, open just far enough to show improbably smooth, olive skin and jeans that fitted him like a glove. Dark hair, and dark eyes, which were even more striking here than in the fluorescent glare of the hospital. Couldn’t he give a girl a break?
‘That smells fabulous. What is it?’ When she followed him through to the large, sleek kitchen, the smell curled around her like a warm, comfortable blanket.
‘One of my mother’s secret recipes.’ Greg had clearly come to the same conclusion that Jess had. The easy humour they’d shared at work was the best way to forget that they were alone together in his flat. ‘You know the score. If I tell you what’s in there, I… ’
‘Yeah, I know. You have to shoot me.’
‘Yep. Or challenge you to a duel.’
‘You prefer hand-to-hand fighting?’
‘Every time.’ He surveyed the pans on the stove, gave one a stir and then turned his attention back to her. ‘Don’t you like to be able to look straight into the other man’s eyes?’
‘Of course. How else would I know exactly what he was thinking?’
He barked out a sudden laugh. ‘Touché. So tell me all about this Christmas extravaganza of yours.’
It wasn’t really hers and it wasn’t much of an extravaganza, but it was something to talk about over their meal. Greg chuckled when she told him about the plan for carol singers, dressed up as characters from Dickens, and loved the idea for storytellers in the children’s wards.
‘That’s a great idea. Aren’t you going to go through to the general wards as well?’
‘I don’t know.’ Jess shrugged. ‘I didn’t really think of doing that.’
‘Adults love to be read to as well. There’s evidence to suggest that it’s beneficial for stroke patients. I imagine that a good storyteller could capture a lot of interest with the elderly as well.’
‘Hmm. Yeah, worth thinking about.’ She should have known that Greg would be able to add something to the value of the project.
‘So what else?’
‘As it’s the hospital’s two hundredth anniversary this year, we’re going to do a small exhibition in the main foyer. How things were then. There are loads of old documents in the basement, and I was thinking of making a model of the building.’ He was giving her the same look that everyone gave her when she got to this bit. ‘It’s not as crazy as it sounds. It’s going to be done properly, I’m not thinking of just gluing a couple of empty cereal packets together. It’ll be 1:87 scale, like the model trains.’
‘Trains?’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘What is it about men and model trains? Yes, trains if you like, the railway ran past the hospital then as well. Only I can’t find anyone who’s got any trains.’
‘I’ll give someone a ring. One of my father’s associates in America. She has a talent for getting anything you can think of.’
‘We don’t have a budget… ’
He swept her objections away with a wave of his hand. ‘That’s okay. No budget needed. Pat has a talent for that as well.’
Jess eyed him suspiciously, but he didn’t look as if he was going to come up with any further explanations. And she wasn’t in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth. ‘Thanks. That would be great.’ In for a penny… ‘And the model?’
His lips twisted into a smile. ‘Yeah, okay. I’ll sort that out too.’ He put his fork down onto his empty plate with a clatter. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, I think that’s enough to keep you busy. Or… Pat, was it?’
He grinned. Perhaps she had been a little too transparent. ‘Yeah, Pat. I’ve known her since I was five years old. She was going to retire this year but I convinced her to stay on for a little while, to help me sort out my father’s estate.’
‘Oh. Good idea.’ Jess wasn’t even going to admit to herself that she would have been jealous if Pat had turned out to be a leggy blonde. Or, more exactly, a leggy blonde in her twenties. ‘Was it very complicated, then?’
‘Yes.’ The sudden flatness of his tone said that Greg had divulged as much as he was going to on the subject. ‘Did you enjoy your food?’
‘Very much. You have a great apartment, too.’
He looked around, as if he hadn’t noticed. ‘Glad you like it.’
What wasn’t to like? Greg didn’t live ostentatiously, but all his furniture matched and it screamed quality. And that was before you counted the large, top-floor living space, the tall windows and the amazing view.
‘You moved in here recently?’ This kind of apartment was far beyond the reach of a doctor’s salary. He must have inherited the money from his father.
‘No.’ He laughed at her surprise. ‘I had a trust fund. By the time it matured, it was enough for this place.’
Jess almost choked on the last mouthful from her plate. Greg obviously came from a very different background from hers. ‘That sounds… useful.’
He leaned towards her. ‘The last time I saw you look that disapproving was when Ray Harris ended up as a patient in his own ambulance.’
‘That was my professional face.’
‘No, it wasn’t. You looked as sour as a bowl of lemons.’ He was teasing her now.
‘Well, it was a bit much. Ray was just trying to help—the guy didn’t need to take a swing at him. How hard do you have to hit someone to break their
