Читать книгу A Consultant Claims His Bride - Maggie Kingsley - Страница 8

IT WAS the insistent ringing of her alarm clock that woke Nell with a start. A ringing that went straight through her skull with all the force of a dentist’s drill.

Gingerly, she tried to sit up, only to lie down again swiftly with a groan as the contents of her stomach lurched up into her throat. She’d never been a drinker and now she remembered why. Two glasses of wine were her limit and she couldn’t begin to count how many she’d had last night. Too many, if her throbbing head and churning stomach were anything to go by.

With an effort she turned on her side, and froze. Two aspirins and a glass of water were sitting on her bedside cabinet. Two aspirins and a glass of water she knew she hadn’t put there yesterday.

Jonah.

‘Oh, God, tell me I didn’t,’ she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as memories of last night began creeping into her mind. ‘Tell me what I’m thinking happened didn’t happen, and it was just a bad dream.’

But it wasn’t. When she lifted her duvet she could see she was still wearing her bra and knickers. At least it was her halfway decent bra and knickers, as opposed to some of her threadbare and tatty underwear, but that didn’t alter the fact that she was still wearing them. That Jonah had taken one look at her all too curvaceous curves and decided he wasn’t interested.

A sob rose in her throat and she put her hand to her mouth to quell it. If there was one thing more humiliating than waking up after a drunken one-night stand, it was waking up to remember that the man you’d thrown yourself at had rejected you.

And she had thrown herself at him. Her brain might be fuzzy but it wasn’t fuzzy enough for her to forget that it had been she who had dragged Jonah down on top of her when he’d lowered her onto her bed. She who had pulled off her shirt and trousers despite his best efforts to prevent her, and she who had kept repeating, ‘Make love to me, Jonah. I want you to make love to me,’ before she’d passed out.

Oh, God.

On the Richter scale of embarrassment it was worse than coming out of the loo not realising you’d tucked your skirt into your knickers. Worse even than asking the man you’d been dating for a while whether your relationship had moved into commitment and realising from the stunned look on his face that it hadn’t.

How was she ever going to be able to face him? For two years they’d been such good friends. They’d laughed together, commiserated with each other, and once she’d even cried on his shoulder after a really bad day, but now…In the space of twenty-four hours she’d not only been dumped by her fiancé she’d also made a complete and utter fool of herself with the one man who had always been there for her in the good times and the bad.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. She’d got herself into this mess, and somehow she had to get herself out of it.

‘I was drunk, Jonah, and didn’t know what I was doing,’ she said out loud, then shook her head, wincing as she did so.

That was insulting. So insulting.

‘Brian had dumped me, and I needed to feel wanted, and I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, so I…’

Worse, that was worse. Neither his pride nor their friendship would survive that amount of honesty.

Somehow she had to come up with a convincing explanation for her behaviour, but what?

Right, Nell thought, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors opened onto the fourth floor of the Belfield Infirmary. It’s plan A. You don’t refer to last night and Jonah will think you don’t remember it, and because he’s a gentleman he won’t remind you. End of story.

It sounded good. Sort of. At least it was better than plan B.

‘Hey, what happened to you last night?’ Fiona called as Nell tried to sneak past her office. ‘One minute you were in the function suite with Liz and me, and the next you were gone.’

‘I was feeling a bit rough so I decided to go home,’ Nell muttered, and Fiona frowned at her.

‘You still don’t look very great,’ she observed, ‘but it was a terrific party, wasn’t it?’

‘The best.’ Nell lied, feeling the dentist’s drill inside her head beginning to intensify. ‘Is…is Jonah in?’

‘Arrived about half an hour ago. Full of beans, too.’

Full of beans.

Did that mean he was laughing at her, laughing at what she’d done? No, of course Jonah wouldn’t laugh. He wasn’t the type. Or at least she didn’t think he was.

‘He left a message for you,’ Fiona continued. ‘Said he’d like a word some time today.’

That didn’t sound good.

‘Did he say what he wanted to talk about?’ Nell asked, determinedly casual, and Fiona shook her head.

‘Maybe he’s still worried about Tommy Moffat.’

That sounded better. Well, not better for little Tommy, but definitely better for her.

‘Jonah’s in Intensive at the moment if you want to see him before you start your shift,’ Fiona continued helpfully, and Nell managed a weak smile.

She didn’t want to see Jonah. She wanted a couple of mugs of black, unsweetened coffee before she went anywhere near the specialist registrar or the unit, but she’d no sooner reached her office than Bea appeared.

‘One newbie admitted at three o’clock,’ the ward sister said, holding out the night staff’s notes to her. ‘Katie Kelly, ten and a half weeks premature, mum and dad’s names are Tricia and Rob.’

‘Anything else?’ Nell asked, gazing longingly at the jar of coffee on her desk and knowing she had as much chance of grabbing a cup as she had of suddenly changing into a five foot nothing, size six film star.

‘Tommy Moffat. Jonah said his BP was all over the place last night.’

Nell’s hand faltered as she reached for her uniform. ‘Jonah was in the unit last night?’

‘He said he had nothing better to do so he thought he’d pop in.’

Oh, ouch, there was only so much honesty a woman wanted to hear, even if it came secondhand.

‘Increase the frequency of Tommy’s obs,’ Nell said with difficulty. ‘If his BP keeps on fluctuating, let me know immediately.’

Bea nodded. ‘Are we still transferring Chloe Wilson and Winston Turner from Special to Transitional today?’

‘Both have been breathing without their ventilators for the past month, and they’re also feeding well with no reflux action so—’

‘They’re almost ready to go home.’ Bea smiled. ‘Don’t you just love being able to tell parents that? It’s what makes working in the NICU so worthwhile.’

It was. Nell knew that some nurses, and quite a few doctors, found the unit unnerving but she had always loved her work. The challenge of keeping the tiny preemies alive, the relief when they started to grow, the joy when they finally left the unit to go home with their parents. Of course, it wasn’ t always like that. There were dark days, grim days, when one of their tiny charges lost their hold on life, but she had never wanted to work anywhere else.

Except today, she realised, after she’d changed into her uniform and Bea led the way into the intensive care section of the unit and she saw Jonah deep in conversation with Callum Nicolson’s mother.

‘Viv’s a bit upset because she still hasn’t been able to express any milk to feed her son,’ Bea murmured as they saw Jonah put his arm around Mrs Nicolson and give her a hug, ‘but he’s good in these situations, isn’t he?’

He was. A lot of doctors possessed the necessary skills to make them proficient neonatologists, but to be a really good one you needed to be able to put yourself into other people’s shoes, to empathise with them, and Jonah could do that with his eyes shut. He was also unexpectedly good at fending off the advances of drunken women, but Nell didn’t want to think about that right now.

‘Is that Rob and Tricia Kelly?’ she asked, seeing a couple she didn’t know standing awkwardly by one of the incubators.

Bea nodded. ‘Jonah’s explained we’re going to have to take it one day at a time, but I think they’re still a bit shell-shocked.’

Nell would have been shell-shocked, too, if one minute she and her husband had been happily asleep in bed and the next she’d gone into labour ten and a half weeks prematurely.

‘This place—it’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?’ Rob said, when Nell walked over to the couple to introduce herself

‘There’s nothing to be frightened of, truly, there isn’t,’ Nell said. ‘Your daughter’s really just in a kind of mini-greenhouse, which will keep her warm and cosy until she’s well enough to cope with the outside world.’

‘But all those wires, all those tubes,’ Tricia said, twisting her dressing-gown belt round in her fingers, her voice uneven. ‘It looks so painful.’

‘Katie needs help with her breathing and feeding, Tricia,’ Nell said gently. ‘We also need to keep an eye on her heart rate and blood pressure. Do you see the monitor up there?’ she continued, pointing to the screen above the incubator. ‘All of Katie’s wires and tubes are linked to it so we can see at a glance how she’s doing.’

She could also see that Jonah was still talking to Callum Nicolson’s mother. Was it her imagination or was he avoiding looking in her direction? No, he was looking at her. Actually, he was staring at her. Probably thinking, Streuth, but that uniform sure hides a multitude of sins.

Stop it, she told herself, just stop it. It’s plan A, remember? You don’t remember last night. Just keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll start to believe it.

‘Sister?’

Tricia Kelly was gazing at her, her eyes very bright, and to Nell’s horror she realised the woman had obviously just asked her something, but she didn’t have a clue what it was. Lord, but now she wasn’t just a drunken slut, she was also completely unprofessional as well.

‘I’m sorry, Tricia,’ she said, her cheeks darkening. ‘I didn’t quite catch…?’

‘I just said I wish I could hold her,’ Tricia replied. ‘If I could hold her, I’d feel…I’d feel she was more mine.’

‘You’ll be able to hold her in a few days,’ Nell said, pulling herself together quickly. ‘At the moment we just want to ensure she’s stabilised, plus—’

‘Plus it can be quite stressful for babies to be touched if they’ve never been held before,’ Jonah chipped in as he joined them. ‘Which, of course, they haven’t because they’ve been safely cocooned in their mumies’ tummies.’

Tricia managed a smile. ‘But won’t I dislodge all those tubes and wires when I’m allowed to hold her?’

Jonah shook his head. ‘They’re all firmly attached and in a few days you won’t even notice them. You’ll be holding and kissing your daughter without a second’s thought.’

He’d kissed her last night, Nell remembered. Or rather, she’d kissed him. Just the once and then he’d wrenched his head away, muttering something unprintable under his breath. It had been a nice kiss, though. Actually, it had been more than nice. It had been…

Unconsciously she shook her head. Booze really screwed up your reasoning powers because, just for a moment when she’d kissed him, she’d felt really odd. Sort of tingly, expectant, almost—

‘Nell?’

Oh, damnation. Now Jonah had obviously asked her something and she didn’t know what that was either. She really was going to have to pull herself together or it wouldn’t be just last night she’d have to worry about. It would be whether she still had a job.

‘It’s Viv Nicolson,’ Jonah murmured, stepping out of earshot of the Kellys. ‘She’s having real problems with the breast pump. I’ve told her the milk will come, but…’ his brown eyes crinkled ‘…I’m at a bit of a disadvantage with not possessing any of the necessary equipment myself, so I wondered if you could have a word, woman to woman.’

‘You know, some people might consider that a very sexist remark,’ she replied, trying and failing to prevent her lips from curving, and he laughed.

‘Guilty as charged, but in this case it’s true.’

‘Yes, but just because I have breasts doesn’t mean I automatically know how to use a breast pump,’ she began, only to immediately wish she hadn’t. Talking about breasts to a man who had seen a lot of hers than he’d probably ever wanted to was not a good idea. ‘I mean…I can try…I’ll do my best.’

And before he could say anything else, she shot off in Viv Nicolson’s direction, determined to lose herself in her work.

It didn’ t help. Nothing helped as the day dragged by. No matter what she did, whether it was trying to reassure Viv that even if she never mastered the breast pump it didn’t matter because formula milk was just as good, or supervising the transfer of Chloe Wilson and Winston Turner to Transitional Care, she knew her mind was only half on her job. One glimpse of Jonah was enough to make her heart slide down into her stomach, and every time he spoke to her she knew she was analysing what he said, looking for hidden references, subtle innuendos.

She was going to go mad if she tried to stick to plan A. It would have to be plan B. Plan B which involved coming clean and apologizing, no matter how toe-curlingly embarrassing it was.

‘Yikes, but you look even worse now than you did when you first came in this morning,’ Fiona observed, when Nell handed her the notes for the night staff. ‘If I were you, I’d go straight home and have an early night.’

‘I fully intend to,’ Nell replied. ‘I just want a quick word with Jonah. Is he about?’

‘He was in his consulting room a few minutes ago, but I’m not sure where he is now.’ The secretary stared at Nell critically. ‘You know, you could be coming down with flu. Liz Fenton was telling me last night—’

‘Got to go, Fiona,’ Nell interrupted, before the secretary could launch into a long and involved saga on who in the nursing staff was currently laid low with what.

Get it over with, she told herself as she headed off down the corridor. Grovel profusely, and get it over with—but not right away, she realised with dismay as she rounded the corner and saw her least favourite member of staff walking towards her.

‘And where are you hurrying off to at such speed, not so little Nell?’ Lawrence Summers, the consultant from Men’s Surgical, said with one of his aren’t-I-wonderful smiles. ‘Not so little Nell, as opposed to the little Nell,’ he added. ‘Get it?’

‘Very amusing, sir,’ she muttered. ‘And now if you’ll excuse me,’ she continued, but he moved faster than she did and blocked her path.

‘It’s Lawrence, Nell, as I keep telling you,’ he said. ‘Not sir, or Mr Summers, but Lawrence. And what’s your hurry? Stay a while, talk to me.’

Yeah, right, she thought. The only reason you want to talk to me is so you can ogle my breasts. So, maybe she was more than generously endowed, but every time she met the consultant it was getting harder and harder to resist the temptation to wrench up his chin and say, ‘Look, I’m more than just a pair of breasts, just as I’m sure you’re more than what you’ve got in your trousers.’

Except she wasn’t one hundred per cent certain that Lawrence actually was more than what he had in his trousers.

Brian had loathed him.

‘Flash beggar,’ he’d said one evening when they’d been having dinner. ‘Getting by on his good looks and so-called charm. I’ve worked with him in Theatre, Nell, and, believe me, he’s all show and no substance. One day he’ll come a cropper.’

Nell didn’t know whether the consultant would or not, but she did know she didn’t want to be ogled by him.

‘I’m afraid I have to go, Mr Summers,’ she said firmly, but before she could push past him he had caught her hand.

‘When are you going to go out with me, Nell?’

When hell freezes over, Lawrence. ‘I’m an engaged woman, sir.’

‘An engaged woman who isn’t wearing her engagement ring,’ he said, lifting her hand into the light and regarding it thoughtfully.

Oh, damn and blast. She’d forgotten to put it back on again after last night, and though she knew she’d have to eventually tell everyone about her broken engagement, Lawrence was the last person on that particular list.

‘It’s in the jeweller’s, she said quickly. ‘I…I noticed one of the stones was loose this morning so I left it with the jeweller to be on the safe side.’

One of Lawrence’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why do I have the feeling you’re lying?’

‘Perhaps because you have an overly suspicious nature?’ Jonah said as he came out of his consulting room. He glanced from Lawrence to Nell, then back again. ‘You also appear to be manhandling a member of my staff.’

His voice was even but Nell could hear the hint of steel beneath it, and so, apparently, could Lawrence because he released her hand immediately.

‘No offence meant, Nell,’ he said. She knew he expected her to reply, ‘None taken,’ but she would have cut out her own tongue than say it.

‘So, what brings you up from the rarefied atmosphere of Men’s Surgical, Lawrence?’ Jonah asked, and the consultant smiled.

‘Haematology tell me you’ve been complaining about the length of time you’re having to wait before they test any samples you send down, and I thought I should point out to you, as one member of staff to another, that we all have to follow a certain protocol.’

‘The protocol being that Men’s Surgical samples should always be tested first, and the rest of us have to wait in line,’ Jonah said, with a smile every bit as false as Lawrence Summers’s. ‘I don’t think so, Lawrence.’

‘Then perhaps I should also point out that you’re only an acting consultant,’ Lawrence continued, his smile completely gone now, ‘and therefore have no real authority to insist on anything.’

‘Feel free to point out whatever you like, Lawrence,’ Jonah said smoothly, ‘but it won’t get you anywhere.’

The two men stared at one another, and Nell held her breath. Only yesterday she’d told Jonah he was as soft as butter, but this was a Jonah she didn’t know. A Jonah she wouldn’t want to mess with. Lawrence clearly thought the same.

‘Fair enough, Jonah,’ he said, his smile back in place on his handsome face. ‘I just thought I’d mention it.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ Jonah replied. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse us?’ he added pointedly, which left Lawrence with nothing to do but leave.

‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ Nell said as she followed Jonah into his consulting room. ‘That man is such a creep.’

‘Lawrence Summers is a creep?’ Jonah said in surprise. ‘I thought he was God’s gift to women?’

‘In his dreams,’ Nell retorted. ‘He may look like a Greek god but anyone who’s ever been out with him says he’s got arms like an octopus and a kiss like a bathroom plunger.’

Jonah let out a splutter of laughter. ‘That’s an image that’s going to stay with me for a very long time. Now, what can I do for you?’

‘Do for me?’ she said, momentarily confused, and his eyes crinkled.

‘Well, as you were clearly headed for my room before you were waylaid by the dreaded Lawrence, I assume you wanted to speak to me.’

She did, but now she was here…

Say it, she told herself. The longer she didn’t say it, the harder it was going to be. Which was true, but it didn’t make the prospect of raising the subject of last night any easier.

‘Jonah—’ She came to a halt as his phone rang.

‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he said, lifting the phone, only to roll his eyes in exasperation at whatever the person at the other end of the phone was saying. ‘No, I do not want the results tomorrow,’ he told the unknown caller. ‘I want them today. They were promised for today, and this is today, so where are they?’

He winked across at her, and she tried to smile back, but as she stood uncertainly in front of his desk, words crept into her mind. Words that made her cheeks heat up, and her resolve falter.

You have such lovely hair, Jonah. Soft, silky. Smells nice, too.

Oh, criminy, had she really said that? Maybe she should forget all about plan B and go back to plan A.

‘Would you believe that Haematology still haven’t processed Donna Harrison’s blood tests?’ Jonah said when he’d put down the phone. ‘I told them I need to be sure her jaundice has completely gone before we can discharge her.’ He dragged his fingers through his hair then smiled a little ruefully. ‘Enough with the complaining. What can I do for you?’

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re clearly busy, and it’s not important.’

‘It obviously is, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing there looking like you’ve got your knickers in a twist.’

Knickers. He’d seen her knickers and they weren’t frilly or pretty but the sort of serviceable, practical kind his mother probably wore.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop thinking about your knickers, her mind urged. Just say it because if you don’t you’ll only have to try again tomorrow and that will be even worse.

‘It’s…it’s about what happened last night, Jonah,’ she said, and his eyes met hers.

‘Nothing happened last night, Nell.’

‘I know nothing happened in the sense of…of happened,’ she said, wishing she was anywhere but there, and doing anything but having this conversation, ‘but that’s only because…because you were too much of a gentleman to take advantage of the situation.’ Or took one look at me and thought, ye gods, but I hadn’t realised she was quite that fat.

‘That’s true,’ he said solemnly, then one corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Plus I have this rather old-fashioned notion that if I make love to a woman, I rather prefer her to be able to remember it afterwards.’

‘Oh. Right.’ She could feel a blush creeping all the way up from her toes. ‘Jonah.’

‘Look, you were unhappy last night, and very drunk,’ he continued. ‘Nothing happened you need be embarrassed about.’

Oh, yes, it had.

‘And as far as I’m concerned, the subject is over, forgotten. My only regret is that Brian isn’t standing in front of me right now. He’s behaved very badly, and if he were here I’d take the greatest pleasure in inflicting some serious damage on him.’

‘You would?’ she said in surprise, and he shook his head as though amazed she should doubt it.

‘Nell, we’re friends, and I won’t allow anyone to make a friend of mine unhappy.’

Tears rose in her throat and she gulped them back with difficulty. ‘You’re the best, Jonah. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I think the words you used last night were “my hero”, “Mr Superman” and “my knight in shining armour”.’

Crimson colour seeped across her cheeks and she gave an unsteady laugh. ‘I thought you said you’d forgotten all about last night?’

He grinned. ‘I have, but I kind of liked those descriptions so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to remember them.’

She tried to keep her smile in place, but it wobbled around the edges, and he got to his feet and clasped her hands in his own large ones.

‘Brian’s an idiot,’ he said softly. ‘This Candy, you’re worth two of her.’

‘I bet I weigh two of her as well,’ she said miserably, and he tilted her chin with his finger.

‘Enough of that. Nell, listen to me—’

‘Jonah, I’ve been thinking about Brian…what’s happened…It’s partly my fault, isn’t it?’

‘Your fault?’ he repeated. ‘How the hell can it be your fault?’

‘I should have gone to the States with him. I know he said there was no point in me going with him as it was only for a year, but Brian likes company, and I think he was lonely, living in a city he doesn’t know. And this Candy…she’s been there, somebody for him to talk to, and before he realised what was happening, she grabbed him.’

‘Bu—’

‘It makes sense, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘And, if I’m right, there’s still a chance he’ll realise he’s made a mistake and come back to me, isn’t there?’

Her grey eyes were large and dark as she stared up at him, and it took all of Jonah’s self-control not to shake her.

How could she be so trusting, so gullible, so damned stupid? he wondered. Brian was, and always had been, an arrogant, conceited jerk. In fact, Jonah had been more surprised that the anaesthetist had stayed faithful to Nell for as long as he had than the news that he’d dumped her.

Then tell her so, his mind urged, but, having grown up with five sisters, Jonah knew only too well that the last thing a woman wanted to hear on an occasion like this was the truth.

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he said vaguely, and felt his heart twist inside him when a blinding smile illuminated Nell’s face. A smile he knew wasn’t meant for him but for Brian.

Lord, but he wanted her. He always had, but when he’d first come to the Belfield he’d still been getting over a disastrous relationship that had left both his heart and his ego badly bruised. He’d decided to take it slowly, not to make the same mistake again, only to watch with dismay as Nell had fallen in love with Brian Weston. Once the engagement ring was on her finger she’d been off limits as far as he was concerned, but now…

‘Nell—’

‘I was wondering whether I ought to fly out to the States,’ she interrupted. ‘Talk to him?’

‘Absolutely not,’ he said firmly. In fact, over my dead body. ‘You’re both too raw emotionally at the moment, and I’m also going to have to be rather selfish here…’ And to lie through my teeth if necessary. ‘…and point out that with Gabriel away on his honeymoon, the unit really couldn’t manage if another member of staff went on leave.’

‘No, of course not.’ She sighed, then smiled awkwardly. ‘I’m just sorry I made such a complete fool of myself last night, embarrassing you the way I did.’

‘You didn’t embarrass me,’ he declared, and she hadn’t.

When he’d seen her in all her lush, creamy glory, felt her breasts straining against him as she’d lain beneath him, it hadn’t been embarrassment he’d felt, it had been desire. A burning, overwhelming desire, and only the knowledge that she had been drunk had prevented him from tearing off the remainder of her clothes and burying himself deep inside her.

‘Like I said, it’s forgotten,’ he said lightly. ‘But what I don’t want is you going back to your flat every night and drinking yourself into oblivion.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m never doing that again. I thought I was dying when I woke up this morning.’

He laughed. ‘What you need is to get out of your flat in the evenings. Maybe go out for a meal with some friends, or perhaps just one particular friend.’

Like him.

‘But if Brian heard I was going out, he might think I didn’t love him any more,’ she protested.

Good, Jonah thought, because for the past two years I’ve been calling you ‘good old Nell’ in an attempt to desexualise you, but now your engagement is off I’m going to do whatever it takes to win you.

‘Or it could bring him to his senses, make him fly over here.’ He lied.

‘I suppose,’ she said, clearly unconvinced, then her eyes filled with tears. ‘I want him back, Jonah. I just want him back.’

And I want you, he thought, but he had no illusions about himself. He was too big, too ordinary, to be any woman’s idea of a wonderful catch, but if he let Nell’ s wounds heal for a couple of months, gave her time to realise and accept that Brian wasn’t coming back, then maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance.

‘Jonah?’

She was staring at him uncertainly and he realised he was frowning and quickly smoothed out his face.

‘It’s time you went home,’ he said. ‘You look exhausted.’

She felt it, but to go home to her empty flat…

‘I thought I might stay on for a while, catch up on some paperwork.’

‘Go home, Nell, and that’s an order,’ he said, and she gazed up at him quizzically.

‘An order?’ she said, and he smiled.

‘I can be very determined when I want to be, Nell.’

Unexpectedly so, she thought with wry amusement as he steered her out of his consulting room towards the elevators but, then again, perhaps not. She’d always suspected there were parts of Jonah she didn’t know. Parts he kept well hidden.

She knew he was a terrific friend. She also knew he was hopeless with women. Three months was the longest she’d ever known him date anybody and it wasn’t because he was a serial flirt. His relationships just seemed to peter out with no hard feelings on either side.

Maybe she should try that, she thought when she got home and a hard lump formed in her throat when she saw so many of Brian’s belongings lying where he’d left them. Dating just for fun and then moving on without regret. But how could she move on when it was still Brian she wanted?

A tear trickled down her cheek and desperately she picked up the magazine she’d bought in the newsagent’s on the way home and flicked through it, only to stop when her eyes fell on the title of an article: Tired of always being dumped by your boyfriends? Then stop being reactive!

‘And what the heck’s reactive?’ she muttered aloud, kicking off her shoes, curling up on the sofa and reading on. ‘“Proactive people make things happen. Reactive people sit back and let things happen to them.”’

Well, that was her in a nutshell. A reactive wimp, a reactive doormat. Somehow she had to become a proactive person, but how? Fiona had said last night that the girl from Radiology needed to show her ex-boyfriend she didn’t care. Even Jonah had said Brian might come back if he heard she was going out, enjoying herself.

She sat up straighter on the sofa. What if she started dating again, even just for a couple of dates? Brian had lots of friends at the Belfield and one of them would be sure to email or phone him. If he heard she was dating again, it might remind him of what they’d shared, make him jealous, get him to fly back to Glasgow. And once he was here, who knew what might happen?

Yeah, right, she thought, her optimism subsiding, and just who was she going to date? The Belfield isn’t exactly chock-a-block with single, fanciable men, plus you’d have to explain to this man that the dates weren’t real, only a means to an end.

Jonah. Jonah would do it in a minute, but Brian would never be jealous of Jonah.

‘He’s a nice enough bloke, Nell,’ Brian had said once, ‘but he’s never going to amount to anything, is he?’

It had been the one and only time they’d had a row, but having a row about Jonah wasn’t enough. She’d have to date someone he could see as a rival. Somebody handsome. Somebody who would get right under his skin. Somebody like….

Lawrence Summers.

The consultant was always asking her out, and she wouldn’ t have to tell him why she was suddenly saying yes after months of saying no because he had a hide like a rhinoceros. Admittedly, he was a groper and a creep, but she could handle him, she knew she could.

A triumphant smile curved her lips. Lawrence Summers. Lawrence Summers would be perfect.