the local stationery office.’
‘Right.’ She nodded. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hell’s bells, not you, too,’ he groaned, then shook his head when his SHO’s eyebrows rose. ‘Sorry, Helen, but right now I’ve had my fill of people apologising to me.’
‘Rough clinic?’ she said sympathetically.
‘Not the clinic. It’s…’ He struggled to find the right words, and gave up. ‘Helen, do I seem like an ogre to you?’
‘An ogre?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Of course you’re not an ogre. Who said—?’
‘Nobody,’ he interrupted hurriedly. Lord, but he wished he’d never started this conversation. Especially not with Helen. ‘It isn’t important. Forget it.’
‘Not on your life!’ she exclaimed, her brown eyes sparkling. ‘Come on—give. Who is she?’
‘She?’ he repeated faintly.
‘Gideon, I’ve known you for almost seven years, and you’ve never terrified a patient in your life, so it’s got to be a girl. Someone you desperately want to make a good impression on, or you wouldn’t care two hoots whether she was terrified of you or not.’
He stared at her, open-mouthed, then shook his head. ‘The processes of the female mind are wondrous to behold.’
‘I’m right, though, aren’t I?’ Helen declared. ‘Who is it? I hope it’s not that busty new nurse in Paediatrics. She’s not your type at all, and that frosty-faced receptionist in radiology would be a disaster.’
‘Helen—’
‘Which only leaves either the new nurse in A and E, or Annie Hart.’
To his dismay, hot colour began to creep across his cheeks. ‘Helen—’
‘It’s Annie, isn’t it?’ she whooped with delight. ‘Oh, Gideon, I’m so pleased. I know how much you loved Susan, but Annie’s a sweet girl, and—’
‘Helen, read my lips,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I am not—repeat not—interested in Dr Hart other than in a purely professional capacity.’
‘You’ve had a row, right?’ she commiserated. ‘Look, it’ll blow over. All you have to do is be your own sweet self, and she’ll come round.’
And I’m surrounded by lunatics, Gideon thought dazedly as Helen’s bleeper sounded and she hurried off to answer it. All I asked was whether I was an ogre and immediately my SHO’s hearing wedding bells. With Annie Hart, of all people. OK, so she’s a very pretty girl, and she clearly needs somebody to take care of her, but it isn’t going to be me. No way. Not ever.
But it felt good when you were holding her, didn’t it? his mind whispered. Every time she’s tumbled into your arms it’s felt right, almost as though she somehow—oddly—belonged there. And what about the feel of her slender waist beneath your fingers, the soft curve of her breasts—so high and surprisingly full—and—
He swore under his breath as his body suddenly reacted with unbridled enthusiasm to the picture his mind had just created. How long had it been since he’d been out with a woman—two, maybe three years? It had obviously been far too long, but he’d been so busy since Susan had died with all the interminable meetings that were part and parcel of his job. The clinics, the operations, the ward rounds…
Excuses, Gideon, his mind whispered as he strode out of his room, and not very good ones at that. You haven’t dated anyone since Susan died because you’re scared to get close to anyone again in case you lose them, too. It’s fear that’s kept you celibate, not work.
‘Oh, shut up,’ he muttered just as Tom Brooke came out of his room. ‘No, not you, Tom,’ he continued when the specialist registrar looked startled. ‘I’m just having a bad day, that’s all.’
‘Join the club,’ Tom sighed. ‘Are you coming down to the canteen for lunch?’
Gideon shook his head. ‘I think I might just do a quick ward round, then get off home.’
‘Good idea.’ Tom nodded. ‘You look as though you could do with some rest.’
He sure as heck needed something, Gideon decided after he’d toured the ward then made his way down to the car park. And it wasn’t Helen sticking her oar in. OK, so his long-dormant hormones seemed to have unexpectedly kicked into life, but that didn’t mean he had to act on them. It didn’t mean he was interested—in the sense of being interested—in Annie Hart.
He had a lot more important things to think about anyway, he told himself as he drove down Rottenrow, then along Richmond Road and into Duke Street. Like getting home, for a start. He should have left the hospital earlier, of course. The traffic was always murder on a Friday afternoon, and today it was even slower because of the icy roads and driving sleet.
At least he was warm and cosy in his car, he thought as he drummed his fingers absently on the steering-wheel, waiting for the van ahead of him to move. Not like the poor people out on the street. People like…
Annie. He’d have recognised her anywhere, and she hadn’t been lying about the shopping. She was lugging four obviously very heavy carrier bags up the road, and she looked wet, and cold, and miserable.
Without a second’s thought he cut in towards the pavement, ignoring the cacophony of car horns that greeted his manoeuvre, and parked beside her.
‘M-Mr Caldwell,’ she stammered as he got out of his car. ‘Is there something wrong—at the hospital—?’
‘The name’s Gideon, and nothing’s wrong at the hospital, but you look in serious need of a lift home.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s kind of you to offer, but I just live round the corner in Thornton Street.’
Which was a good half a mile away if he remembered rightly, and all of it uphill. He opened his passenger door. ‘Get in, Annie.’
‘No, honestly, there’s no need—’
‘Annie, I’m illegally parked on double yellow lines, so unless you want me to get a ticket from that traffic warden who’s bearing down on us, please, get in the car.’
She did so with obvious reluctance, and when they arrived in Thornton Street she even more reluctantly allowed him to carry her groceries up to her top-floor flat.
He wasn’t surprised. Given how edgy she always was in his company, he’d have been amazed if she’d welcomed his offer of help, but what did surprise him—horrified him, if he was honest—was her flat.
‘It has a lovely view of the cathedral,’ she said defensively, clearly sensing his dismay as he carried her groceries through to the tiny kitchen. ‘And it’s near to the hospital.’
Yes, but it’s the most depressing place I’ve ever seen, he wanted to reply. OK, so it was clean and tidy, and the few pieces of furniture gleamed with much polishing, but its dark green wallpaper would have given him nightmares, and as for the chipped and peeling paintwork…
‘How
