Читать книгу The Heart Consultant's Lover - Kate Hardy - Страница 8

NO WAY was she going to get the car into that tiny space next to the massive concrete pillar. And Seb would kill her if there was a single speck of dirt on his precious car, let alone a scratch. As for a dent…He’d still murder her. Just slowly.

Maybe she should have stayed away. This was Fate’s way of telling her that it was the wrong thing to do. If she’d been meant to get the job, her car wouldn’t have had a flat battery, she’d have been at Calderford General in plenty of time to park, and she wouldn’t have got a speeding ticket just outside Edinburgh either.

‘Serves you right, Miranda Turner, for thinking you could come home on your own terms,’ she muttered.

The knock on her window almost gave her heart failure. And it took her ages to wind down the steamed-up window.

‘Are you OK, or are you lost?’ a voice enquired.

Oh, no. She knew that look. What’s she doing in a car like that if she can’t drive it? Every time she’d driven Seb’s car, she’d had the same reaction—men either scoffed or made sure they overtook her.

On the other hand…maybe this might be the lucky break she needed. She smiled sweetly and put on her best fluffy-and-feminine voice. ‘I know it’s terribly feeble of me, but it’s not actually my car. And I’ve always been so hopeless at parking.’ She fiddled with her hair. ‘And that space is so tiny!’

He looked at her in seeming disbelief, then at the space. ‘It is a bit tight,’ he allowed.

She batted her eyelashes at him. ‘I know it’s a terrible imposition, but would you be kind enough to…?’ Hopefully the chance to get behind the wheel of a vintage MG Roadster would be enough to make him say yes.

It was. ‘Sure.’

Gratefully, she grabbed her handbag and hopped out of the car. And watched him park the damned thing in one fluid movement. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy. Why couldn’t she do it? But she never had been able to park cars. Not since the day she’d passed her driving test, borrowed her mother’s car and scraped it in the car park. Her father had gone bananas. Ever since then Miranda would rather have abseiled blindfolded down the Angel of the North, the huge sculpture just outside Newcastle, than park a car.

‘Thank you,’ she said as he handed her the car keys. ‘I really do appreciate it.’

‘No problem. Are you here to visit someone?’

You could say that, Miranda thought. She smiled at him. ‘Mmm.’

‘The hospital entrance is over there—if you ask at Reception, they’ll direct you to the ward you need,’ he told her kindly, pointing to the large domed building across the other side of the car park. ‘And you’ll need a ticket—they’re pretty hot on fines.’

Now she felt horrible. He wasn’t a chauvinist pig at all. He was a nice bloke who’d helped her out of a mess. A nice bloke with a gorgeous smile and…

Stop right there, she told herself crossly. She’d probably never see him again. The way her day was going, she wouldn’t be in the North East again for a very long time, let alone Calderford. And she wasn’t in the market for a man in any case. Since Rupert, she didn’t do serious relationships. ‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said lightly.

She didn’t really have time to get a ticket. But then again, she wasn’t going to get the job so it didn’t really matter if she was late for her interview. She was lucky she’d even got this far. Because no way would Ralph Turner, clinical director and head of paediatrics, let his only child get a consultant’s post in the cardiology department. Not in his hospital.

With a rueful smile, she headed for the ticket machine.