Oh, help. She needed some air. Time to think about how she was going to get out of this.
Except it was too late, because Lewis was standing beside her.
‘Move to me, I think, Dr Smith,’ he said softly, brandishing the certificate Marina had got her to sign for the auction—the promise of a date.
‘Five hundred pounds is a lot of money. Thank you for supporting the auction.’ She lifted her chin. ‘You get a date, but don’t expect me to end up in your bed.’
He laughed. ‘What makes you think that’s what I had in mind?’
His reputation. Colour rushed into her face. ‘So why did you buy a date with me, Dr Gallagher?’ Because he knew who she was?
He shrugged. ‘Because you said no when I asked you.’
Ah. Because she’d challenged his ego. She relaxed. Just a little bit.
He held her gaze. ‘And now you don’t have an excuse to say no.’
‘Maybe I just don’t want to go out with a party boy.’ She’d recognised his type the first time she’d met him. Handsome, wonderful social skills—and shallow as a puddle.
Not her type.
At all.
Lewis gave her the most charming, heart-melting smile she’d ever seen in her life. She’d just bet he practised it in front of a mirror.
‘Maybe I’m not the party boy you think I am,’ he said. ‘Want to know where we’re going?’
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she said. And she almost winced at how haughty and snooty she sounded. This was ridiculous. She didn’t behave like a spoiled diva. That wasn’t who she was. Abigail Smith was a quiet and hard-working doctor who just got on with whatever needed to be done.
Yet Lewis Gallagher made her feel like a brat, wanting to throw a tantrum and stamp her feet when she didn’t get her own way. And she couldn’t understand why on earth he was affecting her like this.
‘Newsflash for you, princess. I bought a date with you. So you don’t get to decide where we’re going.’
Shut up, Abigail. Don’t answer him. Don’t let him provoke you. Except her mouth wasn’t listening. ‘Correction. You bought a date with me. Which means I organise it and I pick up the bill.’
‘Nope. It means you get to go out with me on Sunday morning.’
She was about to protest that she couldn’t, because she was working, when he added, ‘And you’re off duty on Sunday morning. I checked.’
She was trapped.
And maybe the fear showed in her eyes because his voice softened. ‘It’s only a date, Abby.’
Abby? Nobody called her that. Not even her father.
Well, especially not her father. He used her given name. The one she made sure nobody at work knew about because then it would be too easy to connect her with her father. Not that she didn’t love him—Keith Brydon was the most important person in the world to her. And she was incredibly proud of him. She just wanted to be seen for who she was, not dismissed as an attention-grabbing celeb’s daughter riding on her famous parent’s coat-tails.
Before she could protest, Lewis continued, ‘We’re just going somewhere and spending a bit of time together. All we’re doing is getting to know each other a little. But, just so we’re very clear on this, I’m not expecting you to sleep with me. Or even,’ he added, ‘to kiss me.’
‘Right.’ Oh, great. And now her voice had to croak, making it sound as if she wanted him to kiss her. How pathetic was that?
‘Wear jeans,’ he said. ‘And sensible shoes.’
‘Do I look like the sort of person who clip-clops around in high heels she can barely walk in?’ And then she clapped a hand to her mouth. Oh, no. She hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘No. But I think you could surprise me, Abby.’
She shivered. Oh, the pictures that put in her head. ‘I suppose now you’re going to say something cheesy about finding out if I have a temper to go with my red hair.’
‘It’s a cliché and I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said. ‘Though, on this evening’s showing, I think you do.’
And, damn him, his eyes were twinkling. She almost, almost laughed.
‘You need sensible shoes,’ he said again. ‘Trainers would be really good. Oh, and wear your hair tied back.’
That was a given. She always wore her hair tied back. ‘So what are we doing?’ Despite herself, she was curious.
‘You’ll find out on Sunday. I’ll pick you up at your place.’
She shook her head. ‘There’s no need. I could meet you there.’
‘Ah, but you don’t know where we’re going.’
Irritating man. She forced herself to sound super-sweet. ‘You could tell me.’
‘True. But it’d be a waste of resources if we took two cars.’
‘Then I’ll drive.’ Maybe needling him a little would make sure he agreed to it. ‘Unless you’re scared of letting a woman drive you?’
‘No.’ He laughed. ‘Well, there’s one exception. But she’d scare anyone.’
Ex-girlfriend? she wondered. The one that got away?
Not that it was any of her business. And not that she was interested. Because she didn’t want to date Lewis Gallagher. She was only doing this because she’d made a promise to raise funds for the department.
‘So are you going to make a fuss about it, or will you allow me to drive rather than direct you?’
Put like that, she didn’t have much choice. She gave in. ‘OK. You can drive.’
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at nine. Your address?’
If she didn’t tell him, she was pretty sure he had the resources to find out. So she told him.
‘Great. See you on Sunday.’ And he was gone.
Making quite sure he had the last word, she noticed.
Abigail was really grateful for the fact that her shift on Saturday was immensely busy, with lots of people limping in with sports injuries and the like. The fact that she barely had a second to breathe also meant she didn’t have to talk; the hospital grapevine had been working overtime, so everyone knew Lewis had paid a ridiculous amount of money for a date with her—and she just knew that everyone was itching to ask questions. Why would a man who could date any woman he chose pay for a date with the girl nobody wanted to go out with?
