You’re working too hard. Vic, I know you want to be professor—and I also know you’ll make it. But don’t kill yourself in the process.’
‘I’m fine,’ Vicky repeated. ‘Don’t nag.’
‘I could set Alyssa on you. Or Sophie. Or both.’
Vicky smiled. ‘It won’t work, Seb.’ Her sisters-in-law were both doctors, too—Alyssa worked in emergency medicine and Sophie was a surgeon. ‘They know the score.’
For a moment, she thought Seb was going to argue, then he gave a resigned sigh. ‘All right. I’ll shut up about that. So, will you?’
‘What?’
‘Be godmother.’ Seb rolled his eyes. ‘Hopeless. Ask you a question about neurosurgery and you’ll talk for hours. Ask you about something social…’
‘I’m not that much of a nerd. And, thank you, I’d be honoured to be godmother.’ Vicky smiled. ‘Especially as you named my very first niece after me.’
‘If she has half your qualities, I’ll be proud of her,’ Seb said.
Vicky blinked. Was she hearing things? Had her brother—who normally teased her stupid—just paid her an incredible compliment? ‘Marriage has definitely made you soppy.’
‘No. I’ve realised what’s important. And there’s more to life than your job.’
Vicky had a nasty feeling she knew what was coming next. ‘Don’t you dare try to matchmake. I’m perfectly happy as I am. I stayed out of it with you and Charlie.’
‘Liar. You arranged a fundraising raffle, offering a date with me as the prize to buy Charlie some time away from the paparazzi’s attention so he could work things out with Sophie. And you as good as told Alyssa she had to marry me.’
‘Don’t listen to your daddy,’ Vicky informed her niece. ‘I didn’t interfere at all. I just pointed a few things out and helped them see their way a little.’
‘And I’m very glad you did,’ Alyssa said, joining them in the living room. ‘Has Seb asked you?’
‘Yes. And I’m delighted to accept.’
‘Good.’ Alyssa smiled warmly at her. ‘Though what I heard Seb saying is right. You do work too hard, Vic.’
‘And I like being that way. End of discussion,’ Vicky said. Though she was canny enough to go for the ultimate distraction, where new parents were concerned. ‘Are Chloë’s official photographs back, yet?’
To her relief, both Alyssa and Seb took the bait and were soon clucking over their baby’s first official photographs—and Vicky’s personal life was left where she liked it best.
Ignored.
JAKE walked quietly into the neurology department in the middle of the Wednesday morning—the day before he was supposed to start. A bit sneaky, perhaps, but he knew it was the best way to see what his new department was really like. When nobody was on their best behaviour, waiting for their new consultant to turn up.
Everything seemed fine. The department was busy, but calm and quiet: clearly the team was well established. The ward was clean and there were gel dispensers by every bed: another good sign. He’d worked in some truly horrible places where the admin staff wasted money left, right and centre and important things—like basic hygiene—suffered.
There was a board to say where the doctors and senior nursing staff were, and another to show who was looking after which patient, so communications were good, too. It was definitely a well-run department.
And then a woman stepped out in front of him. She was clearly a doctor, because she was wearing an open white coat and there was a hospital identity badge round her neck on a lanyard. Though she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever set eyes on. Tall—nearly five feet ten, he’d guess, because in heels she could look him in the eye. Long, long legs, and her dark suit didn’t hide the fact that she was all curves. Dark wavy hair, caught back at the nape of her neck. Slate-blue eyes. And the most kissable mouth he’d ever seen.
Every nerve in his body hummed. For a moment, he forgot where he was. Who he was. He just wanted to take that one step forward, pull her into his arms, loosen her hair, bend her back over his arm and kiss her. Just like in the movies.
‘Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?’
The plummy accent shattered the dream and brought him back to reality. Sex goddesses didn’t have silver spoons in their mouths, and this one was definitely posh—and rich, because on closer inspection that suit looked as if it was a designer cut. Plus, in his experience, doctors of that class who weren’t working in private practice were usually just waiting in a cushy niche until something better came along.
Add the fact that she was just about to become his colleague, and that put her way off limits. On the rare times he did date, it was never another member of staff in his department. He’d seen first-hand what a mess it made at work when the relationship ended. Awkwardness at work, the headache of working out new rotas so the once-close couple were on opposite shift patterns…It just wasn’t worth it.
Even if she was the first woman in a long time to make his skin tingle like that.
‘Thank you, but I’m fine,’ he said coolly.
Though he couldn’t just pretend he’d wandered in off the street. He’d have to work with her—Dr Victoria Radley, according to her ID card—tomorrow, and playing games now would just make things awkward later on. Better tell the truth. ‘I’m Jake Lewis.’ He held out his hand.
‘You’re a day early.’
He felt the flush steal over his cheekbones, and was cross with himself for it. He was her senior, for goodness’ sake. Why was he acting as if he were the naughty schoolboy and she was the headmistress? ‘I was passing, so I thought I’d drop in.’
Drop in? More like he was giving them the once-over before he started, Vicky thought.
Which was just what she would have done, in his shoes.
She took his hand and shook it briefly. Firm grip, dry palm—good. But there was something else. Something odd. Even though he wasn’t touching her any more, she could still feel his skin against hers. And although it had been a businesslike handshake, it had felt somehow intimate. Almost caressing.
She shook herself. How ridiculous. She never, ever had fantasies like this. Particularly about co-workers.
As consultants went, Jake Lewis was a little…different. Cheap suit, cheap shoes. Most of the ones she’d met were keen to show off their tailor-made clothing and hand-made Italian shoes. Maybe Jake Lewis wasn’t interested in fashion; maybe, refreshingly, he was more interested in medicine.
Not that it should bother her either way. She’d already placed him neatly in his pigeonhole. The one marked ‘C’ for colleague. Not ‘L’. That pigeonhole was nailed up, and she intended it to stay that way. No distractions.
She
