Читать книгу The Surgeon's Marriage Demand - Maggie Kingsley - Страница 8

‘THAT has to be the most ridiculous suggestion I’ve ever heard!’ Seth exclaimed, and Olivia gritted her teeth until they hurt.

A week. She’d been at the Belfield Infirmary for exactly one week, and Seth Hardcastle had disagreed with every plan she’d put forward to improve the running of the department. Good grief, he’d even argued against redecorating the waiting room when it must have been obvious to anyone that the place was a dump.

‘It is not a ridiculous suggestion,’ she said with difficulty. ‘The health department has conducted a survey—’

‘Oh, well, if they’ve conducted a survey.’

‘And sixty-five per cent of the general public object to their names being written up on a whiteboard,’ she continued, deliberately ignoring his sarcasm. ‘They feel it’s an invasion of their privacy.’

Seth leant back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. ‘An invasion of their privacy. Right. And if we remove the whiteboard, just how—precisely—are we supposed to identify patients?’

‘By communicating with each other, of course,’ she snapped, and saw his lip curl.

‘So, on a busy Saturday night, when we’re full to capacity, and somebody’s bleeding to death on one trolley and somebody’s having a coronary on another, we’re supposed to make time for these illuminating conversations, are we?’

Olivia dug her clenched fingers deep into the pockets of her white coat, but it didn’t help. Why did their morning meetings have to always end like this in acrimony and disagreement? The rest of the A and E department had made her feel welcome, but Seth…He never stopped arguing, and it wasn’t just the arguing which was getting her down. It was his unerring ability to make her feel small and stupid. A feeling which wasn’t helped this morning by her sneaking suspicion that he was right about the whiteboard, and the health board’s directive was crazy.

‘Whether you approve of the whiteboard coming down or not, it is coming down,’ she said tightly. ‘And speaking of coming down,’ she continued as he opened his mouth, clearly intending to argue. ‘Watson Forrester.’

He stirred uncomfortably in his seat. ‘What about Watson?’

She picked up one of the folders on her desk and extracted a sheet of paper from it. ‘According to this, he’s been to two seminars, three conferences and four courses this year.’

A faint flush of colour seeped across Seth’s cheeks. ‘Watson likes to keep abreast of the latest A and E developments.’

‘By going to conferences on food nutrition?’ He winced and her battered self-esteem sent up a silent Yeah! of triumph. ‘I want his resignation, Seth,’ she said quickly, before he had time to come up with one of his crushing put-downs. ‘He’s in London for another couple of days on this food nutrition course, then he’s off on his annual leave, but when he comes back I want his resignation.’

Seth looked as though he’d like to argue, but he also looked as though he knew when he was beaten. Being beaten, however, didn’t stop him from muttering, ‘You’ll be wanting Jerry’s resignation next.’ She closed the folder with a snap.

‘Certainly not. He’s an excellent specialist registrar. In fact, the whole team works very well together, including young Tony Melville.’

‘You think so?’

Something about his tone brought a slight crease to her forehead. ‘You don’t?’ He didn’t reply, and her frown deepened. ‘Look, if there’s something I should know about Tony, I’d far rather you just told me.’

He opened his mouth, closed it again and shook his head. ‘It’s nothing—just a gut feeling.’

‘A gut feeling you’re clearly not prepared to share with me,’ she said icily. ‘Fine. If that’s the way you want to play it.’

‘I’m not playing anything,’ he protested. ‘I just don’t think I ought to condemn the guy without concrete facts.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that hadn’t prevented him from bad-mouthing her, but she didn’t. Persuasion, Olivia, she told herself. You’ve always succeeded in the past with even the stroppiest of consultants by using the gentle art of persuasion, so back off. Back off, and regroup.

She fixed a conciliatory smile to her lips. ‘I think I’ve covered everything I want to discuss this morning. Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?’

‘No.’

Not an ‘I don’t think so’ or an ‘I can’t think of anything’—just a bald, flat ‘No’. Couldn’t he even pretend to be civil, attempt to meet her halfway? Apparently not, judging by the rigid set of his jaw. Well, irrespective of how he felt, they couldn’t permanently be at loggerheads. They had to find some common ground or they would never be able to work together.

‘Listen, Seth,’ she declared, doing her best to radiate sympathy and understanding, which wasn’t easy when what she really felt like doing was hitting him. ‘I know this can’t be easy for you—having me as your boss. You’re bound to feel slightly resentful—’

‘I don’t feel even remotely resentful,’ he interrupted. ‘I just don’t think a woman should be in charge of A and E.’

Her jaw dropped. Was he kidding? He didn’t look as though he was, and her sympathy and understanding disappeared in an instant.

‘Now, listen here,’ she exclaimed, her brown eyes stormy. ‘It may have escaped your attention—it clearly has escaped your attention—but women moved out of the kitchen years ago. There are women politicians, women judges, women consultants—’

‘I’m quite aware of that,’ he exclaimed, annoyance plain in his voice, ‘and I have no objection to female consultants in principle. The head of Ophthalmics is a woman. The head of Geriatrics is a woman—’

‘You just don’t want one in your own back yard,’ she finished for him furiously. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m here for the duration, and you and your fragile male ego are just going to have to get used to it!’

Yikes, but where had that come from? she wondered, seeing anger darken his blue eyes. She’d never been the confrontational type. Deborah was always telling her she was too darned soft for her own good, but this man…He constantly seemed to bring out the worst in her.

Which didn’t mean she was going to apologise.

Dammit, why should she? If he was a chauvinist—and she’d never in a million years have pegged him as one—then he was going to have to learn she wasn’t a pushover.

Or at least not a complete one, she thought, forcing herself not to flinch back in her seat when he got to his feet and his broad shoulders blocked out the sunlight from her window.

‘Seth, listen—’

‘My shift starts in half an hour, and I’d like a coffee before I go on duty, so if there’s nothing else, Dr Mackenzie…?’

He couldn’t even call her Olivia. Everybody else did. Jerry, Tony, Babs, Fiona. Only Seth seemed unable—or unwilling—to force her name through his teeth.

‘Seth—’

‘I really would like that coffee.’

It was hopeless, she thought as she gazed up into his implacable face. Completely and utterly hopeless.

‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said, and without a word, or even so much as a nod, he was gone.

Stupid, pompous, arrogant man. What on earth was she going to do with him? If they couldn’t establish a decent working relationship she would have to ask for his resignation, and she didn’t want his resignation. He was an excellent consultant. Skilled, intuitive, unflappable.

Handsome, too, her mind whispered as she gathered up the folders on her desk and she let out a huff of impatience. OK, so he was handsome, and when he smiled…Not that he’d done any smiling in her direction during the past week, but she’d seen him smile at Babs and Fiona, and it was the kind of smile that did odd things to a woman’s stomach.

‘Odd things to her brain, too,’ she murmured out loud as she put the folders in her filing cabinet and closed the drawer with a bang. ‘Face it, Liv. A man like Seth Hardcastle would leave you emotionally scarred for life.’

Yes, but think of the fun while it lasted.

Don’t think of the fun, she told herself severely as she walked out of her office and down to the examination room. The only thing you want from Seth Hardcastle is a good working relationship. Nothing more, nothing less.

There didn’t seem to be much work going on in A and E when she opened the door. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any work going on at all, just Babs and Fiona crouched up against the back wall surrounded by a mass of squashed fruit.

‘What on earth’s going on?’ Olivia asked, only to duck quickly as a pear suddenly came shooting out of cubicle 6 followed by the sound of a male voice calling, ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’

‘Brian Taylor,’ Babs replied. ‘He came in with a badly cut hand, and Fiona and I had just got a saline drip into him when all hell broke loose.’

‘He’s one of our regulars, and a chronic alcoholic,’ the staff nurse chipped in. ‘We reckon he’s been on one of his three-day benders.’

‘Which doesn’t alter the fact that his hand needs stitching,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘Why haven’t you sedated him?’

A watermelon sailed out of the cubicle and landed with a dull thud at Babs’s feet.

‘Because we’d rather like to finish the day in one piece,’ the sister replied. ‘So if you have any bright ideas on how we can get close enough to him…’

It was a good point. It was also at times like this that Olivia wished she was a man. Preferably a six-foot-two-inch tall man with broad shoulders and blue eyes, but if she paged Seth he’d never let her forget it.

‘Where are Jerry and Tony?’ she asked.

‘Jerry’s in cubicle 1 with a possible duodenal, and Tony’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with the woman in 3.’

Which meant she was on her own.

Well, brawn wasn’t everything, she told herself. In fact, the voice of sweet reason could often be surprisingly effective.

‘Mr Taylor?’ she called out in her most reassuring voice. A bunch of bananas came hurtling through the curtains, and he started cock-a-doodling again. ‘What’s he got in there, Babs?’ she hissed. ‘The entire contents of a fruit shop?’

The sister grinned. ‘We’re just hoping he didn’t stop off at his local fishmonger’s before he came here.’

Olivia fervently hoped so, too. She chewed her lip for a second, then made up her mind. ‘I need a syringe loaded with the strongest sedative you’ve got.’

Babs did as she asked, but when Olivia pocketed the syringe and got down on her hands and knees, the sister eyed her uncertainly. ‘Are you sure about this? I could call Seth—’

Over her dead body. ‘Of course I’m sure,’ Olivia replied, but she didn’t feel anything like as confident when she crawled into the cubicle and caught sight of Mr Taylor sitting on top of the trolley.

Dear lord, but he was huge. If he stopped throwing fruit and started throwing his fists, she was going to be in serious trouble.

Think positive, Olivia, she told herself firmly. You might not have physical strength but you have intelligence. And probably about ten seconds in which to use it, she calculated as she stretched up, yanked the saline drip off its hook and then crouched down again fast.

Make that five seconds, she amended with a sinking heart as an ominous rustling sound came from the trolley, which suggested that Mr Taylor was delving into his shopping bag again.

‘There’s no need to get agitated, Mr Taylor,’ she said soothingly. ‘I’m here to help you.’

‘Get lost!’

‘And I love you, too,’ she muttered under her breath as she swiftly injected the syringe full of sedative into the drip tube. ‘Now, if you could just breathe in deeply for me, I’ll—’

She didn’t get a chance to finish what she’d been about to say. Tomatoes began raining down on her, splattering her white coat, and she squeezed on the saline bag for all she was worth. It was a quick-acting sedative, but he was a big man and it could be several seconds before it took effect. All she could hope was that it kicked in before he ran out of tomatoes.

‘Sleepy time, Mr Taylor,’ she crooned. ‘Time to go to the land of nod. Time for Mr Sandman to come along and close your eyes.’

‘Get lost,’ he said again, but this time with slightly less enthusiasm, and she squeezed even harder on the bag.

‘Maybe you should consider visiting the Merkland Memorial next time you injure yourself,’ she continued. ‘Much as we love having your custom…’

Bingo! With a surprising grace for such a big man, Mr Taylor keeled over on the trolley, and she caught his bag of groceries just before it hit the floor.

A smile curved her lips. She’d been right. Brawn wasn’t everything. Brains could be just as effective, but it had been a close-run thing.

‘OK, Mr Tough Guy,’ she murmured, getting awkwardly to her feet. ‘Let’s see what damage you’ve done to yourself.’

To her relief his hand wasn’t as badly injured as it had looked. He’d certainly sliced his thumb pretty badly, and there were lacerations to his other fingers, but luckily he hadn’t hit any vital arteries.

‘You must have a charmed life,’ she observed as she cleaned his hand, then inserted some stitches. ‘Pity I can’t say the same about your manners.’ A loud snore was her only reply and she chuckled. ‘See you around, Mr Taylor—but hopefully not for a very long time.’

Quickly she pulled back the cubicle curtains and blinked as a round of applause greeted her.

‘Way to go, boss!’ Babs beamed. ‘Whoever said women were the weaker species?’

‘Not at the Belfield they’re not,’ Fiona exclaimed, and Jerry grinned.

‘You look as though you’ve had a tussle with a mad axe murderer and lost.’

‘Oh, funny.’ Olivia laughed. ‘Babs, Mr Taylor’s hand will need a dressing. I’ve given him enough sedative to knock out an elephant but keep your eye on him. He—’

‘What the hell’s going on?’

Olivia turned to see Seth striding down the examination room towards her, and smiled. ‘Crisis over. Mr Taylor—’

‘You’re bleeding,’ Seth declared, concern plain on his face. ‘Babs, we’ll need a cross-match, X-rays—’

‘Seth, these are tomato stains,’ Olivia said, beginning to laugh, only to stop when she saw his expression. ‘I’m not laughing at you—honestly I’m not. It was sweet of you to be concerned, but Mr Taylor just decided to throw some fruit around, and I was the unlucky recipient of the tomatoes. I’ve stitched—’

‘Babs, have you telephoned the janitor to come and clean up this mess?’ he snapped, cutting right across Olivia’s explanation.

The sister flushed. ‘Not yet, but—’

‘Then I suggest you do it now. If a patient slips and falls we’ll have a negligence suit slapped on us before you can say diddly squat and I don’t think Admin will consider that a laughing matter, do you?’

‘And I don’t think there was any need for you to chew poor Babs’s head off,’ Olivia protested as the sister hurried towards the phone and Fiona escaped into Mr Taylor’s cubicle. ‘It’s been pretty hairy in here for the past quarter of an hour, and—’ He’d walked away from her. He’d just upped and walked away, and she turned to Jerry furiously. ‘Of all the rude, arrogant…What is wrong with that guy?’

‘I think he was worried about you,’ the specialist registrar replied, and Olivia rolled her eyes heavenwards.

‘Worried? Seth Hardcastle wouldn’t care if I was strung up by a mob of rioting yobs.’

‘Of course he would. Look, he’s not normally like this,’ Jerry continued as Olivia shook her head. ‘All right, so he can be a bit abrasive at times if he thinks a patient’s trying to con him, or if Admin’s giving him the runaround, but—’

‘So you’re saying it’s me—my fault?’ Olivia exclaimed, pulling off her stained white coat and throwing it into the laundry basket with rather more force than was strictly necessary. ‘Jerry, he’s impossible. If I said white, he’d say black, just to be difficult.’

The specialist registrar looked uncomfortable. ‘I know he has some pretty strong views—’

‘Some?’ Olivia spluttered. She opened her mouth to give Jerry chapter and verse of all the things Seth had said and done over the past week, then snapped her jaw shut. Gossiping with a member of staff about another member of staff was a definite no-no. Asking for information, however, wasn’t. ‘Jerry, why didn’t he get the clinical director’s job? He’s got the experience, the ability, so why didn’t he get the job?’

Jerry sighed. ‘Seth’s always been a bit of a maverick, and I guess Admin’s not keen on guys doing their own thing.’

Independence wasn’t a bad thing, Olivia thought as she stared down the examination room to where Seth was deep in conversation with one of the nurses. She just wished his particular brand of independence wasn’t always constantly directed at her.

‘Well, I can’t change my sex,’ she said belligerently, ‘so he’s just going to have to live with it.’

Jerry looked startled. ‘Can’t change your…? Why would you—?’

‘Oh, lord, what’s wrong now?’ Olivia exclaimed as Tony strode angrily out of cubicle 3, followed by an equally irate-looking man.

‘Looks like young Tony’s in trouble,’ Jerry observed.

‘Looks like young Tony needs help,’ Olivia said, and together they hurried towards him.

‘Dr Mackenzie, perhaps you can convince Mr Carter that I’m a bona fide, fully qualified medic,’ Tony said the moment he saw her. ‘He seems to feel—’

‘Is either of you somebody in authority?’ Mr Carter demanded, glancing from Jerry to Olivia then back again.

‘I’m the clinical director in charge of this department,’ Olivia replied. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘You’re in charge of the department?’

The man’s surprise was palpable, and Olivia gritted her teeth for the third time that morning. Where were all these New Age men she kept reading about? Her tally for today—and it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet—was two male chauvinists and a drunk who thought women should be used as target practice.

‘Yes, I’m in charge of the department,’ she said as evenly as she could. ‘What seems to be the trouble?’

‘There is no trouble,’ Tony insisted. ‘I’m just trying to convince Mr Carter that his wife has a bad cold—’

‘My wife does not have a cold,’ Mr Carter interrupted. ‘My wife is ill—very ill—and I want a second opinion.’

Out of the corner of her eye Olivia could see that Seth was no longer talking to the nurse but staring intently at the whiteboard. He didn’t fool her for a second. He was eavesdropping, listening to find out how she was going to handle the situation. Well, let him listen. She didn’t need his help. If she could deal with a fruit-throwing alcoholic, she could deal with an irate husband.

She beckoned to Babs. ‘Sister, could you take Mr Carter—?’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ the man exclaimed, his eyes angry, his colour high. ‘I’m staying right here until you find out what’s wrong with my wife.’

He would, too, unless she found some way to placate him, and Olivia summoned up one of her best trust-me-I’m-a-doctor smiles. ‘I’m afraid it’s against hospital policy for us to examine a patient while a relative is present.’

‘He didn’t say that,’ Mr Carter protested, gesturing at Tony. ‘In fact, he—’

‘It’s written into my contract,’ Olivia declared, and saw Seth’s lips twitch. OK, so it was a feeble excuse but if Tony’s diagnosis was wrong, the last thing she wanted was Mr Carter present when she discovered it. ‘I’ll be as fast as I can, Mr Carter,’ she continued, upping her smile a notch. ‘And the second I’ve made my diagnosis you’ll be the first to know.’

That Mr Carter didn’t want to go was plain, but Olivia kept on smiling, kept on radiating confidence, and eventually he reluctantly followed Babs out of the examination room.

‘OK, what have we got?’ Olivia said, turning to Tony.

‘Mrs Carter’s shivering, she’s slightly feverish and she has a headache. She has all the classic symptoms of a cold.’

She also had all the classic symptoms of something else, Olivia realised when she’d finished examining the woman.

‘Malaria?’ the junior doctor gasped. ‘You think she has malaria?’

‘Didn’t you notice how brown she was?’ Olivia said. ‘We might have had a good summer, but there’s no way she could have got that suntan in Glasgow. My guess is she’s been to Africa or Asia, and that’s where she contracted the disease.’

The junior doctor stared unhappily at her. ‘I feel like an idiot.’

‘Don’t,’ Olivia protested. ‘Good grief, it’s not as though malaria’s so rampant in Glasgow that even our janitor would have recognised it. And we don’t even know for certain yet that she has malaria,’ she continued when Tony didn’t cheer up, ‘so why don’t you take some blood samples and get them checked by the lab?’

With a nod and a worried frown Tony hurried back into the cubicle, and as Olivia pulled off her examination gloves Jerry stared at her thoughtfully.

‘That was a very kind thing to do. A lot of consultants would have nailed him to the wall for a mistake like that.’

‘I’ve seen a couple of cases of malaria before,’ Olivia replied dismissively. ‘He hasn’t.’

‘It was still a kind thing to do,’ Jerry insisted, and Olivia’s eyes flicked across the examination room to where Seth was still hovering by the whiteboard.

‘Believe it or not, I’m actually quite a nice person. And now I’d better find out how Mr Taylor’s doing,’ she continued, ‘before some people accuse me of not pulling my weight.’

She’d gone before Jerry could reply and the specialist registrar shook his head as Seth walked across to him. ‘You asked for that.’

‘What makes you think she meant me?’ Seth demanded.

Jerry gave him a hard stare. ‘Seth, I’d have to be blind and deaf not to see you’re never off her back. She’s smart, on the ball and more than pulls her weight in the department, so what’s your problem?’

Seth opened his mouth, clearly thought the better of what he’d been about to say and muttered grimly, ‘She said I was sweet. I am not sweet.’

Jerry laughed. ‘Yes, you are. You’re nothing but a big pussy cat at heart, so stop riling her.’

‘Me rile her?’ Seth choked. ‘Listen, Jerry—’

‘I like her.’

‘Fine. Feel free to have a mad, passionate affair with her, and when Carol slices off your reproductive organs with a scalpel, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘Carol knows I wouldn’t cheat on her, and I won’t.’ The specialist registrar glanced down the examination room to where Olivia was talking to Fiona. ‘She is pretty, though, isn’t she?’

She was, Seth thought as he followed the direction of the specialist registrar’s gaze. Not beautiful—her nose was too small and her chin was too pointed for beauty—but she was pretty in a gentle, homespun sort of way, and when she smiled… ‘She’s OK.’

‘You thought she was a lot better than OK when you first saw her.’

He had, but that had been before he’d discovered who she was. ‘She’s too skinny.’

Jerry tilted his head and surveyed Olivia critically. ‘Slender. Not skinny—slender. And she’s got great legs.’

She had. Long legs. Endless legs. The kind of legs a man could fantasise about. The kind of legs guaranteed to give a man wet dreams.

‘I’ve never been a leg man myself,’ Seth lied. ‘And even if I was,’ he added quickly as Jerry’s eyebrows rose, ‘she’s already in a relationship.’

‘Says who?’

‘She did last week. Some guy called George.’

‘Oh. Right.’ Jerry’s eyes drifted down the examination room again. ‘Pity.’

‘I doubt if Carol would think so,’ Seth said testily, and Jerry grinned.

‘I’m not thinking of me, you dummy. I was thinking of you.’

‘Hey, who are you calling a dummy?’ Seth protested, but the specialist registrar was already hurrying away in answer to Babs’s call.

He wasn’t a dummy. He just had a healthy sense of self-preservation. OK, so Olivia had a pair of incredible legs and nice eyes, but dating your boss was asking for trouble. Dating your boss on a strictly let’s-have-fun-for-a-few-dates-and-then-it’s-over basis was career suicide.

Not that she’d ever go out with him, he thought ruefully as he watched all laughter disappear from her face when she noticed him staring at her. She thought he was a jerk, and he was. All the crap he’d given her about how it ought to have been a man appointed clinical director. He didn’t give a damn that she was a woman. What really bugged him was she’d got the job, and he hadn’t.

‘Childish,’ he muttered out loud. ‘No, not you, Tony,’ he added quickly, seeing the startled look on the junior doctor’s face as he emerged from Mrs Carter’s cubicle clutching a blood sample. ‘Me.’

And he was being childish, he thought as the junior doctor scurried away.

Jerry was right. Olivia more than pulled her weight in the department, and she was spunky, too. Lord, just thinking about her tackling Brian Taylor was enough to make him shudder. The man was unpredictable enough when he was sober, but when he was drunk…

And she’d been terrific with young Tony. Any other consultant would have torn the junior doctor to shreds. He probably would have done so himself, and yet Olivia had taken the softly-softly approach, ensuring the young man’s confidence wasn’t shattered.

He’d have to apologise to her, but apologising would mean telling her why he’d behaved as he had, and she’d think he was a jerk, and he didn’t want her thinking he was a jerk.

‘Something wrong?’ Babs asked curiously, seeing him frown as she passed, and he shook his head.

‘Nothing I can’t fix,’ he replied lightly, but who was he kidding? It was going to take a lot more than one of his smiles to smooth down Olivia’s ruffled feathers. But what?

Nothing occurred to him as he treated the elderly woman with the worst case of haemorrhoids he’d ever seen. No solution presented itself when he patched up the victim of a horrific car crash, and because he couldn’t think of anything his temper grew shorter and shorter and it was a relief to everyone when their shift finally ended.

‘Boy, but Seth’s been a little ray of sunshine today, hasn’t he?’ Jerry observed when Olivia helped him to gather up the notes on the patients they’d seen that day.

‘What do you mean, “today”?’ she replied. The specialist registrar chuckled, but his laughter faded as he saw Seth striding towards them with a look of grim determination plain on his face.

‘Want me to stick around, act as a referee?’ he murmured. ‘Or, then again, perhaps not,’ he added, his smile returning as Olivia shot him a look that spoke volumes. ‘OK, I’m out of here.’

Lucky you, Olivia thought with a deep sigh, but if Seth thought he was going to bend her ear for the next half-hour he was very much mistaken.

‘Five minutes,’ she said as soon as he came to a halt in front of her. ‘You’ve got exactly five minutes, and then I’m going home.’

‘Five minutes is all I need,’ he replied, shouldering open the examination-room door then standing back so she could walk out into the corridor ahead of him.

It had better be, she thought grimly.

‘OK, what’s so important that it won’t wait until tomorrow?’ she demanded, once they were both standing outside in the corridor.

‘I just wanted to say how much I admired the way you dealt with Tony this morning—not ripping into him when the lab confirmed Mrs Carter’s malaria.’

Praise from Seth Hardcastle? That had to be a first, and he also looked uncomfortable. He never looked uncomfortable. He was up to something.

‘I’m glad you approve,’ she said. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else—’

‘I also think you were right when you said we needed to talk. We do need to talk, Olivia.’

He’d called her by her first name. He’d praised her, and he’d called her by her first name. He was definitely up to something.

‘What kind of talking?’ she said warily.

‘I think we need to talk about us.’

Us? As in him and her? His blue eyes were fixed on her, dark, and liquid and fathomless, and she swallowed—hard. Surely he wasn’t going to hit on her? He must know she’d knock him back. She was his boss, and relationships between staff members never worked, and she didn’t want to get involved with him anyway, and…

‘Seth—’

‘We always seem to be arguing, and I don’t want us to argue.’

Neither did she but, oh, lord, now he was smiling at her. That heart-stopping smile she hadn’t seen since last week. The smile which did odd things to her stomach and made her toes curl.

She took a steadying breath. ‘I don’t want to argue with you either, but—’

‘So I think there’s only one thing we can do.’

Oh, cripes, he was going to hit on her, and it wouldn’t work, she knew it wouldn’t. OK, so he was jaw-droppingly attractive but she didn’t do casual relationships, and he didn’t do permanence, and though a fling with him might be fun—hell, of course it would be fun—the repercussions didn’t bear thinking about.

‘What…?’ Her voice had come out way too high, and she cleared her throat and started again. ‘What—exactly—did you have in mind?’

‘A truce.’

A truce. Not ‘Why don’t we have a wild passionate affair?’ but a truce. Well, of course she’d known deep down that he wasn’t going to suggest an affair. Good grief, they’d only known each other a week, and she wasn’t his type, but…

‘Sounds good to me,’ she said, suddenly realising he was waiting for a reply. ‘What sort of a truce did you have in mind?’

He leant back against the corridor wall. ‘That you agree I might occasionally be right because of the length of time I’ve worked here, and I agree you might occasionally be right because you’re seeing everything with fresh eyes.’

It made sense. It made a lot of sense. A niggling voice at the back of her head pointed out that he could still be up to something, but she decided to meet him halfway.

‘Agreed,’ she said.

He stuck out his hand. ‘Shake on it?’

Try as she may, she couldn’t prevent a chuckle springing to her lips. ‘Shake on it,’ she agreed, and put her hand in his.

It was a mistake. She knew the minute their fingers touched that it was a mistake. Her hand felt so safe in his. Safe, and warm, and protected, and any woman who thought she was safe with Seth Hardcastle needed her head examined. He was breath-taking sex on legs, and trouble and heartache, and she’d had more than enough trouble and heartache to last her a lifetime.

But not enough breath-taking sex, her body whispered. Sex with Phil had been dull and unsatisfying, whereas sex with Seth…No, she wasn’t even going to speculate about what sex with Seth would be like, and quickly she eased her fingers free from his, praying her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

‘I have to go. George—’

‘Ah, yes. I’d forgotten about George.’

His voice sounded oddly flat, and she wondered if he didn’t like dogs. Phil hadn’t. He’d pretended to like George, and George had pretended to like him, and then she’d discovered Phil had only been pretending to love her and her marriage had ended.

‘I really must go,’ she said, backing up a step.

‘I must, too,’ he replied, not moving at all.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then,’ she mumbled, and he nodded, and she walked briskly down the corridor.

I am not going to look back, she told herself. Looking back is what teenagers do when they’re desperate to know whether the boy they’re interested in might be interested in them so I’m not going to look back.

But she did.

Just as she pushed open the door leading to the car park she glanced over her shoulder, and he was still there, still watching her, and his face creased into a smile. A smile that had her smiling back like some dippy, moonstruck, sixteen-year-old. A smile that had her heart doing a happy quick-step. As she stepped out into the open air, she muttered out loud to nobody in particular, ‘Oh, damn.’