Once a Playboy…
Kate Hardy
Adrenalin junkie aristocrat George Somers is used to relationships as short and as sweet as the thrills he seeks. But, when an accident puts him in the care of physiotherapist and single mum Serena James, being bed-bound suddenly seems more than appealing!George may be a risk-taker…but letting Serena and her little boy into his heart will be his biggest challenge yet…
Praise for Kate Hardy
‘When you pick up a romance novel by Kate Hardy, you know that you’re going to be reading a spellbinding novel which you will want to devour in a single sitting and A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT is certainly no exception.’
—cataromance.com
‘NEUROSURGEON … AND MUM! is a spellbinding tearjerker readers will want to read again and again. Written with plenty of sensitivity, understanding and heart, NEUROSURGEON … AND MUM! is the latest winner by this outstanding storyteller!’
—cataromance.com
‘A wonderfully poignant tale of second chances. Readers follow the two characters in their quest for family and everlasting love. This excellent romance will touch your heart and have you shedding tears.’
—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
on ITALIAN DOCTOR, NO STRINGS ATTACHED
‘SURRENDER TO THE PLAYBOY SHEIKH: I spent a lovely morning with this book, and I’d advise you to do likewise. Get it. You’ll love it. An unrestrained Grade A.’
—goodbadandunread.com (http://goodbadandunread.com)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical Romances™ for Mills & Boon for over ten years now. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!
Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com (http://www.katehardy.com)
JANICE LYNN has a Masters in Nursing from Vanderbilt University, and works as a nurse practitioner in a family practice. She lives in the southern United States with her husband, their four children, their Jack Russell—appropriately named Trouble—and a lot of unnamed dust bunnies that have moved in since she started her writing career.
To find out more about Janice and her writing visit www.janicelynn.com (http://www.janicelynn.com)
Once a Playboy … is the follow up toDr Cinderella’s Midnight Flingand the second book featuring Kate Hardy’s gorgeous Somers brothers.
Also by Kate Hardy in Mills & Boon
Medical Romance™:
DR CINDERELLA’S MIDNIGHT FLING
ITALIAN DOCTOR, NO STRINGS ATTACHED
ST PIRAN’S: THE FIREMAN
AND NURSE LOVEDAY (St Piran’sHospital) A CHRISTMAS KNIGHT
And in Mills & Boon
Modern™:
THE HIDDEN HEART OF RICO ROSSI
THE EX WHO HIRED HER
A MOMENT ON THE LIPS
These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Once A Playboy…
Kate Hardy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Sheila, my wonderful editor—who puts up with a lot (and always takes out the reindeer!)
CHAPTER ONE
‘SO you’re doing static cycling on a flat surface, and swimming?’ Serena asked.
‘Yes,’ George said.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘No.’ And it wasn’t a complete fib. George could do the swimming and static cycling bits of his exercise programme without any problems. But he’d pushed himself a bit too far this week, thinking that he could start the last phase of his treatment a little bit sooner than his body was really ready for it.
She raised her eyebrow. ‘How about the truth?’
‘It is the truth.’
Serena folded her arms. ‘George, I know it’s driving you crazy not being able to do everything you could do before the accident, and you want to get your life back yesterday, but it’s going to take time until you’re completely fit again. You did a fair bit of damage to your thigh and your wrists—and, remember, it takes up to six months for a broken femur to heal, plus there’s all the soft tissue damage surrounding it.’
And that wasn’t the only damage he’d done to his body, George knew. Though he wasn’t thinking about that particular issue right now. He sighed. ‘OK. If you must know, I tried running, a couple of days ago. Through chest-deep water, so it wasn’t weight-bearing.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘And?’
‘It was absolutely fine.’
‘If I had my way,’ Serena said, ‘my patients would be banned from looking up anything on the internet.’
He coughed. ‘How did you know that’s where I read about it?’
‘Because you didn’t get that advice from me or from Bruno. Your last lot of X-rays were fine—your bones are stable and they’re healing nicely—but you really can’t run before you can walk. Literally.’
‘I realise that now.’ Much as he hated to admit it.
She sighed. ‘What else did you do, George?’
‘Tried it on land. Not very far,’ he added swiftly.
‘But it hurt.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘A bit,’ he admitted.
‘I’d say it’s your quads, by the way you walked in.’ She shook her head. ‘What am I going to do with you, George?’
‘I used to hear that a lot. At school as well as at home,’ he said.
‘Why does that not surprise me?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Do you mind if I take a closer look and check that you haven’t done any real damage?’
‘Sure.’ He paused. ‘Does this mean taking off my clothes?’
‘Well, it’s a bit tricky to judge muscles through a layer of material.’ She gave him an amused smile. ‘Let me know when you’re ready.’
He still felt slightly self-conscious about stripping in front of her. Which was totally ridiculous. Apart from the fact that Serena James was his physiotherapist and this wasn’t his first session with her, George had stripped in enough bedrooms—and other places—not to feel in the slightest bit awkward at taking his clothes off in front of a woman. Especially as this wasn’t even a full strip; he’d still be wearing underpants and a T-shirt.
But he appreciated the fact that Serena had turned her back while he removed the hated tracksuit bottoms, leaving him a little bit of dignity. He’d already put up with more than enough during his recuperation. He’d hated feeling so dependent. And he was so, so ready to have his life back again.
If that meant he had to take this last phase just a little bit more slowly, then he’d have to learn to be patient. Even though taking things slowly felt as if it was killing him. He really loathed living life at a snail’s pace. For him, it wasn’t living, it was existing. And there was a huge difference between the two.
‘Ready now,’ he said, and she turned to face him.
Her hands were gentle as she probed his leg and felt the muscles. And although Serena’s movements were completely asexual, a physiotherapist’s touch rather than a lover’s, as she moved her head George caught the scent of her shampoo. Like sun-warmed, ripened strawberries. And all the blood in his head rushed south.
Oh, hell. He’d better start thinking of something else—such as how much repairing the roof at Somers Hall was going to cost this year and all the regulations that they’d have to comply with—or he was going to embarrass both of them.
Or was he? Did Serena feel this weird connection between them, too? And, if so, what would she want to do about it?
He glanced at her left hand. No ring. OK, so the lack of a ring didn’t mean that she wasn’t in a committed relationship, but he had the feeling that Serena James was the kind of woman who believed in marriage and would want that gold band on her finger. Which in turn meant that he was completely the wrong kind of man for her. He didn’t do commitment. Ever. If his mother’s behaviour hadn’t cured him of that idea, Rebecca certainly had.
‘There’s some tightness in your muscles here and here.’ Serena demonstrated by touch. ‘I can give you some different exercises to work on these, and that will help.’
‘Thanks. And I promise I’ll do the exercises every day, for as many reps as you tell me to.’
‘And you’ll also promise me that you won’t overdo it,’ she said firmly, folding her arms and looking him straight in the eye.
He smiled. ‘Would I overdo it?’
‘Considering that you ended up this way in the first place because you had a fight with a cliff and lost, my vote would be for yes.’
He loved the teasing glint in her green eyes. And he liked Serena James. Either she didn’t know he was heir to Somers Hall and the barony, or she didn’t care, because she treated him as if he were just an ordinary patient. George appreciated her being so down-to-earth and practical with him.
She turned away again to give him time to replace his tracksuit bottoms. This was the kind of clothing he never wore outside a sports field, preferring designer denims or made-to-measure suit trousers; the accident had done a fair bit of damage to his sartorial style, too, because jeans still didn’t feel comfortable on his broken leg. Dressing properly again was another thing he was looking forward to.
‘OK, I’m decent again,’ he said with a smirk.
‘So why do you do it?’ she asked as she turned back to him.
‘Do what?’
‘All the dangerous sports.’
He shrugged. ‘My brother says I’m an adrenalin junkie.’
‘Is he right?’
‘I enjoy the rush of extreme sports,’ he admitted. ‘I guess it’s just a way of getting rid of tension.’ And it meant he didn’t have time to let himself think too deeply about anything.
‘And you can’t think of a safer way of getting rid of tension?’
At this very moment, he could. Not that he was going to embarrass her by telling her exactly what was in his head. Or the fact that it involved her. ‘Powered paragliding isn’t unsafe,’ he parried instead.
‘Says the man with a broken femur and two broken wrists.’
‘Which are almost healed,’ he reminded her. ‘I was wearing a helmet, and I’d done all the training. I just happened to be thinking about something else at the same time as a gust of wind caught me, and by the time I realised what was happening it was too late to avoid the cliff.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘It must’ve been quite something on your mind to distract you that much.’
It really was. As in whether he was really his father’s son. For a normal family, it might not have been so much of an issue, but for the Somers family it had had a lot of legal ramifications. Such as who was the real heir to the barony, and what would happen to the estate and the entailment. Absolutely life-changing things.
Luckily the DNA tests had proved that his mother had been completely wrong in her beliefs, and that George and his younger brother Ed were indeed David Somers’s legitimate sons. But, before they’d done the tests, their mother’s diaries and letters had given George some seriously bad moments, worrying about what was going to happen to his family.
And it had brought him low enough to wonder about whether he’d still be part of them, if it turned out that he was actually the by-blow of one of his mother’s many lovers instead of his father’s son. Which again was ridiculous; he knew that his father, stepmother, brother and sisters loved him as much as he loved them.
But that was because they were his family. That meant they were practically obliged to love him. And they did.
Except for one person.
Zara Somers had been able to walk away from him and Ed without a second thought when George was six years old, and she’d acted as if her sons didn’t exist from that moment on until the day she died. No matter how ridiculous George knew it was intellectually, emotionally the doubts were always there and he couldn’t quite squash them. Would his girlfriends, like his mother, be more interested in his social standing, not seeing him for who he really was beneath the label?
He’d risked it once. He’d fallen for Rebecca at university; and he’d been so sure that she saw him for who he was and loved him anyway.
How wrong he’d been.
His background hadn’t attracted her; it had pushed her away. She’d said she couldn’t cope with living in a goldfish bowl as the future wife of a future baron; and even though he’d said the barony stuff was just a label, she’d claimed it was what made him who he was and it couldn’t be separated. He’d even offered to give it up for her; but that still wasn’t enough for her. She’d given him his ring back. I love you too much to make you unhappy.
And then she’d walked away for good.
George had made quite sure from then on that he was the one to leave. Which was why he kept all his relationships short and sweet and very far from serious, nowadays.
‘Yes,’ he said.
Serena flushed at his curtness. ‘Sorry. I mean, I saw the stuff in the papers.’
So had most of the country. The gossip rags had had a field day when the news had leaked that David Somers’s heirs might not be who they thought they were.
‘I didn’t mean to pry or spread gossip,’ she added.
He believed her. And it wasn’t her fault that his mother had been the way she was. Or that Rebecca hadn’t been able to see past her own insecurities and take a chance with him. ‘It’s OK. And you haven’t upset me. I don’t mind talking about it.’ And it was true, now. The DNA test results had been conclusive and had put paid to all the rumours. Then Ed had announced his engagement to Jane, and the press had been utterly charmed by his brother’s Cinderella bride. ‘Anyway, it’s all done and dusted now. I won’t let myself get distracted in the future.’
‘You’re actually going back to doing that parachute thing?’ Serena looked surprised.
‘Powered paragliding,’ he corrected. ‘Sadly, no. The whole family ganged up on me and made me agree to sell the rig. And my consultant said I can’t go skiing again until the pin’s out of my leg.’ He grimaced. ‘So I guess I’m going to have a very, very boring year, limping everywhere and being grumpy with everyone because I’d much rather be doing something else.’ Something with enough speed to let him leave all his self-doubts behind. Something that meant he didn’t have time to sit still and think.
She smiled. ‘I’m sure you can find something to keep yourself amused.’
Someone would be a better idea. And she happened to be standing right in front of him. He had a feeling that Serena James could distract him beautifully; even though she wasn’t his usual type, there was something about her that really grabbed his attention.
‘How are your wrists?’ she asked.
‘Better. I can manage without the splints now. And I’ve got pretty much the full range of movement back, thanks to the exercises you gave me.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to being able to drive myself again.’
‘Taxis that bad, are they?’
‘They are when they’re being driven by your little sisters, and the fare is a whole journey’s worth of nagging.’
She laughed.
‘You’re supposed to be sympathetic,’ he said.
‘I am.’ She was still smiling. ‘But I’m just imagining you being bossed around by a woman.’
‘My sister,’ he corrected. ‘Bossy isn’t the half of it. The oldest one’s the scariest barrister I’ve ever met—you just don’t answer Alice back. Ever. The middle one’s an architect and threatens to gag me with gaffer tape if I dare suggest she modifies her driving slightly so she doesn’t scrape my car, and the baby just switches to speaking Latin if you try to talk her into letting you do something!’
Serena laughed again. ‘I bet you charm all three of them into doing everything you ask of them.’
Fair point. It was what George did with women. Charmed them. With two exceptions—ones he didn’t usually let himself think about—women tended to agree to what he wanted.
And right now he wanted her.
Serena had a beautiful mouth—a perfect rosebud. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, but she really didn’t need any. She had a fresh, natural beauty. Flawless skin that made him itch to touch it, feel how soft it was under his fingertips. And he couldn’t help wondering what that mouth would feel like against his own.
‘So you think I’m a shallow, charming playboy? I’m hurt,’ he said, batting his eyelashes at her. ‘Deeply wounded.’
‘Sure you are.’ That glint of amusement was back in her eyes.
‘Oh, but I am.’ And the suggestion was too much for him to resist. ‘And, as you’re the one making me feel bad right now, Serena, maybe you should be the one to kiss me better.’
She simply smiled at him. ‘I’m afraid that’s not part of the treatment, Mr Somers.’
He noticed that she’d switched back to formality with him. Well, it was his own fault for being too pushy. Time to backtrack. ‘I apologise for teasing, Ms James—or should that be Mrs?’
‘Ms is fine.’
Which still didn’t tell him whether she was married—or at least committed elsewhere. Though he had a feeling that she wasn’t. A feeling that wasn’t based on any actual information: simply his gut instinct. And his gut had rarely led him wrong in the past. Only with Rebecca, and that had been his fault for wanting what she couldn’t give him.
Serena took him through all the exercises, and he concentrated on making sure he got them right.
‘Good. I think we’re done for today,’ she said.
‘See you on Thursday? Or are you going to make me see Brutal Bruno instead, to teach me a lesson for being cheeky with you today?’
‘Bruno’s as gentle as a lamb,’ she protested.
‘Not with me, he isn’t,’ George said feelingly, remembering his first sessions with the physiotherapist while he had still been in hospital. Once the painkillers had worn off, the movements had hurt like hell. Not that he would’ve admitted to any of it. He’d wanted to be out of hospital with his independence back. Like yesterday.
‘Oh, you big baby.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll see you on Thursday.’
He’d see her on Thursday.
Funny how that made the whole physiotherapy thing seem bearable.
Serena was still smiling as she wrote up the notes.
George Somers was just too gorgeous for his own good.
Another time, another place, and she would’ve been tempted to take him up on his offer of kissing him better.
But …
She couldn’t afford to be unprofessional. She needed this job, and getting too friendly with your patients was the quickest way to risk ending up in a sticky situation and with a disciplinary charge on your records, at the very least.
Plus she knew that George Somers was the kind of man who never dated anyone more than a couple of times. He didn’t do serious relationships. His picture was in the press with a different woman practically every week—usually a tall, skinny blonde—and having two broken wrists, a broken leg and concussion hadn’t seemed to slow him down in the slightest. He was the last kind of man she wanted to get involved with. And why on earth would the heir to a barony—a man who’d dated supermodels, according to all the newspapers—be in the slightest bit interested in an ordinary woman like her?
And then there was Ethan. Her son’s needs came first and they always would, as far as she was concerned. End of story.
So, much as Serena found George Somers attractive, she knew he’d better remain a patient and only a patient. She couldn’t afford to offer him anything else.
She looked at her appointment schedule. Her next patient was another of her favourites, Lisa Miller, who’d been suffering from whiplash for the last six weeks and whose range of movements was responding beautifully to treatment. Serena smiled and went over to the door to call her in.
When Serena had finished her session with the patient after Lisa—an elderly lady who was recovering from a hip replacement—she took a break, just long enough to gulp down a cup of coffee in the staff kitchen.
Jess, one of the other physiotherapists, was already there, leaning against the worktop. ‘The kettle’s just boiled. Want a coffee?’ she asked, taking a mug out of the cupboard and waving it at Serena.
‘Thanks, Jess. That’d be great.’
‘So how was Mr Hot?’ Jess asked, making the coffee and then handing Serena the mug.
‘Mr Hot?’ Serena asked warily.
‘Your first patient this afternoon.’ Jess grinned and fanned herself. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t know who I meant. He’s seriously gorgeous.’
Serena didn’t dare reply to that, in case her words were too revealing. The last thing she needed was for her colleagues to think she was lusting after one of her patients.
‘Is he single?’
‘No idea,’ Serena fibbed. ‘Anyway, I thought you were engaged?’
‘I am, but I’m not dead. I can still look. And he’s something else.’ Jess rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe you don’t know anything about him. I mean, if I was single and one of my patients was that hot, I’d want to know everything about him.’
‘There is such a thing as patient confidentiality,’ Serena said dryly.
‘True.’ Jess gave her an irrepressible smile. ‘You know, if he is single, you could always ask him out.’
‘Of course I can’t! He’s my patient.’
‘Only until his treatment’s finished,’ Jess pointed out. ‘And then there’s nothing to stop you getting to know him better.’
Serena played her trump card. ‘Ethan.’
‘You know your parents would babysit like a shot if you asked them.’
That was true. But Serena’s mother already picked the little boy up from school every afternoon and kept him entertained until Serena had finished her shift; Serena felt she was taking quite enough from her parents as it was, without asking for more.
Jess patted her arm. ‘Serena, I know you’re a brilliant mum and you’re a great physio—you’ve taught me such a lot over the last year—but there’s more to life than work and being a single parent. You hardly ever go on team nights out. When was the last time you had some fun?’
Serena lifted her chin, stung. ‘I have plenty of fun with my son.’
‘I know you do, but that’s not what I meant. When was the last time you did something just for you, went out with someone on a date?’
‘I’m happy with my life the way it is,’ Serena protested.
Jess raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you?’
Serena didn’t answer that.
‘Try to make some time just for you,’ Jess said softly. ‘Because you’re important, too.’
‘Yeah.’ Serena added cold water to her coffee and gulped it down. ‘I’d better dash. I don’t want to get behind with my appointments.’
Though, as she left the kitchen, she knew she was being a coward, not facing up to Jess’s questions. When was the last time she’d gone on a date? Not since she’d been going out with Jason, Ethan’s father.
But that didn’t mean she wanted to go out with George. She’d already dated one heartbreaker who’d let her down, and that was more than enough for her. She’d learned from her mistakes, the hard way. It wasn’t something she intended to repeat.
CHAPTER TWO
GEORGE lay flat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. Then he raised his bad leg thirty centimetres from the floor and traced a T-shape in the air, just as Serena had taught him.
Serena.
He closed his eyes as he repeated the exercise, seeing her face in his mind’s eye. That beautiful, beautiful mouth. What would it feel like against his skin? He tipped his head back, imagining her mouth teasing a path down his throat; then lower, down his sternum, and lower still, over his abdomen. Her hair would be loose and brushing against his skin, soft as silk, its coolness in sharp contrast to the heat of her mouth.
He blew out a breath.
This really wasn’t sensible, fantasising about his physiotherapist like this. Especially as she’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested in him. Serena James wasn’t the type of woman he normally dated. She wasn’t one of the tall, rail-thin blondes who graced his arm at parties. She had light brown hair that most people would describe as ‘mouse', she couldn’t be more than five feet four inches tall, and she had definite curves. Glorious curves that he ached to touch. To mould with his palms. To caress and tease until she was as full of desire for him as he was for her.
He knew what his bossiest sister would say. Alice would roll her eyes and say that he wanted Serena precisely because he knew she was out of reach. Because she was one of the first women in years who’d resisted him.
Worse still, he knew that was probably true. Serena James was a challenge. She intrigued him. And he found it hard to resist a pretty face and the chance to have some fun.
If he had any sense, he’d ask if he could see Bruno instead of Serena to finish off the rest of his treatment.
But the idea of seeing Serena again on Thursday was too much for him.
Serena smiled at George when he walked in, and heat arrowed down to his groin.
Down, boy. This is meant to be professional, he reminded his libido.
‘So you’ve been doing the exercises I suggested?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Just the exercises?’
He gave her his most charming smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Because you’re the type to push yourself too hard,’ she said softly. ‘What did you do, George?’
She could read him like a book. He wasn’t sure if that intrigued him more or worried him. Most people were happy just to see the surface; Serena clearly looked deeper and he had a feeling that she saw what most people missed about him. Which in itself was dangerous. Apart from his family, he didn’t let people get that close.
‘I tried driving at the weekend. On private land, so there wasn’t a risk to anyone else.’ Odd how it felt important to tell her that. Normally, he didn’t give a damn what people thought about him. But what Serena thought … For some reason, that mattered. And he’d rather not start analysing why.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Did it hurt?’
‘No. I realise I’m not quite ready to drive in London again, yet,’ he admitted, ‘but now I’ve got a benchmark to work with. And it really helps, knowing that I’m not going to be dependent on the girls and Ed—my brother—for what already feels like for ever.’
She examined him, then made him go through the full range of movements just to the point of pain. ‘That’s good. Your range has improved hugely over the last few weeks.’
‘Thanks to you.’
‘And you, for sticking with the exercises. A lot of people struggle and some of them just give up.’
‘Not me. I want my independence back, and if that means sticking to an exercise programme, then the exercises take priority over everything else every day,’ George said.
She smiled. ‘Actually, you’ve done well. I think you’re ready for the last stage.’ She gave him more exercises; even as George concentrated on her instructions and making sure he was doing everything correctly, to get the maximum benefit from the movements, he couldn’t help looking at her.
And he caught her looking back at him. Specifically, at his mouth.
All his senses immediately went on full alert. Was she thinking about it, the same way he was? What would she do if he kissed her?
He had a feeling that she’d retreat into formality again. She’d panicked enough at his last appointment, when he’d suggested she kiss him; he was pretty sure that actually doing what he’d suggested would send her running in the opposite direction.
But next week was his last appointment. He didn’t have time to wait and coax her round to his point of view. He was going to have to make his move then, or lose the chance of seeing her again—for good.
On Monday morning, Serena put George through his paces again.
And then it was over. He was signed off. No more physio.
No more seeing her, unless he asked her out now. He’d thought about it all weekend. On paper, it was ridiculous. She wasn’t his type and he was pretty sure he wasn’t hers. Yet she intrigued him too much for him to let it go. ‘That was my last appointment,’ he said.
‘I know. You’ve done very well.’
‘I brought you these, to say thanks for all the work you’ve done on my wrists and my leg. And for being patient with me. I know I haven’t exactly been the easiest of clients.’ He produced a flattish square box, slightly bigger than a CD case; it was wrapped in thick burgundy-coloured paper and tied with a gold gauzy ribbon.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t accept gifts.’
‘Rules and regulations?’ he asked.
‘They’re there to protect patients.’
‘And staff, I guess.’ To make sure that nobody could claim that a therapist had taken advantage of a vulnerable patient and extorted expensive presents from them. He could understand that. ‘Pity. It isn’t a diamond tiara or anything like that,’ he said, just to reassure her. ‘It’s just something small.’ The kind of thing he’d take to the hostess of a dinner party.
She looked embarrassed. ‘It’s very kind of you to think of me, Mr Somers, but I’m afraid I really can’t accept anything.’
He put the box on her desk. ‘Serena. Look at me,’ he said softly.
Looking at him was a mistake. Those blue, blue eyes. That beautifully shaped mouth. Serena could barely tear her gaze away from it.
‘Serena,’ he whispered.
And she knew in that second that he was going to kiss her.
In the name of common sense, she should back away. Or at least turn her head aside so he ended up kissing her cheek and not her mouth.
But she couldn’t move. It was as if some invisible force was holding her in place. Making her wait for the moment when he finally kissed her.
George’s lips brushed against hers ever so gently; to her surprise, his kiss wasn’t demanding and forceful, but sweet and light and coaxing. Tempting.
Back away and tell him you don’t do this.
But her common sense was drowned out by the way her lips were tingling. She wanted more. Lots more. Right now.
As if he could read her mind, he touched his mouth to hers again. And again, his mouth nipped gently at her lower lip, inviting and inciting. The next thing she knew, her fingers were sliding into his hair, his arms were wrapped tightly round her, and her mouth was opening under his. Inviting the kind of kiss she hadn’t shared with anyone since Ethan’s father.
And even that had been a pale, pale imitation of the way George was kissing her. The way his mouth promised as much as it demanded, giving as well as taking. Her blood felt as if it were fizzing through her veins. And her temperature was most definitely spiking.
He broke the kiss and stroked her face. ‘Serena. I knew it would be like that between us,’ he said softly.
Hot. Intense. Perfect.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.’
She’d wanted it, too. But it couldn’t happen. She dragged in a breath and took a step away from him; not that it made much difference. They could’ve been standing at opposite ends of Wembley Stadium with thousands of people jammed between them, and she’d still be spine-tinglingly aware of his presence. ‘We shouldn’t have done that, Mr Somers,’ she said shakily. ‘You’re my patient.’
‘Actually, I’m not,’ he pointed out. ‘That was my last session. My treatment’s over. So we’re not patient and therapist any more. We’re just you and me. Two ordinary people. There’s no reason why we can’t do whatever we want.’ He stole another of those sweet, mind-drugging kisses. ‘I’d like to see you outside work, Serena. Will you go out with me?’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
‘You’re involved with someone else?’
This was her cue to tell a little white lie. She knew instinctively that George Somers was an honourable man. He wouldn’t push her if he thought that would mean she’d be unfaithful to her partner. All she had to do was say yes. One tiny little word.
But her mouth wasn’t playing ball. ‘I’m single.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
How could he not see it? ‘We’re from different worlds. Seriously different. You’re the son of a baron. You mix with royalty.’
‘Minor royalty,’ he corrected. ‘Not that often. And most of whom I find pretty tedious, to be honest.’
‘And celebs.’ She’d seen the pictures in the gossip rags that clients left in the waiting room. George Somers didn’t date ordinary women like her. He had a taste for tall, skinny blondes with incredibly short skirts and teeth so white and even that it was obvious they’d spent a fortune on cosmetic dentistry.
He shrugged. ‘My world isn’t all glitz and glamour. And if you don’t want to go to a showbiz party, that’s fine by me. I can think of plenty of other things I’d rather do with you.’
Heaven help her, so could she. And it made her skin feel too tight. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.’
‘I’m just an ordinary man, Serena.’
That absolutely wasn’t true. There was nothing in the least bit ordinary about George Somers.
‘I find you attractive.’ His eyes glittered. ‘And, from the way you kissed me back just now, I’d say it’s completely mutual.’
It was. She did find him attractive. Which was a huge problem. Help. It had been so long since she’d been out with anyone that she couldn’t even remember how to play the dating game. She’d only make a mess of this.
‘I have a child,’ she blurted out. ‘I’m a single mum.’ And then she felt ashamed of herself for using Ethan as an excuse. As a shield. Her son deserved more than that.
‘OK. I can understand that you want to protect your child—it’s not fair for a kid to get attached to an “uncle” who isn’t going to stick around,’ George said.
He understood that?
‘Which isn’t me suggesting that you have a string of men parading through your life, either,’ he added.
She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. So he didn’t think she was an easy conquest, either.
‘If anything, I get the impression you’ve gone completely the other way and you don’t normally date anyone. But having a child doesn’t mean that you can’t see anyone, Serena. It doesn’t mean that you can’t have a little fun in your life.’
Exactly what her colleague Jess had said. She pushed temptation away. ‘I’m a working mum. I need to spend my free time with my son.’
‘Of course you do. But you need a little time for you, too,’ he said softly. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and brushed his lips against hers. Almost as if he was promising that nobody was going to get hurt by this.
‘Have lunch with me on Tuesday,’ he said, his voice soft and incredibly seductive.
‘I c—’ she began, and he pressed the tip of his finger lightly against her mouth, not letting her refuse.
‘I know you have patients to see, Serena, and you need to stick to your schedule at work. If you’re busy on Tuesday, we can make it another day. But we’re going to have lunch together next week. Just lunch. You, me, and—’ his eyes crinkled at the corners ‘—hopefully a little bit of sunshine.’
How could she possibly resist an invitation like that?
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Are you vegetarian? Is there anything you really don’t like or are allergic to, foodwise?’
‘No to all three.’
‘Same here. Which makes life simpler. Good.’ He took a card from his wallet and scribbled a number on the back. ‘That’s my mobile. So I’ll see you on Tuesday at midday. If that’s a problem, text me with an alternative. My schedule’s reasonably flexible at the moment.’
Her fingers touched his as she took the card, and it sent a shiver of desire all the way through her. Crazy. She’d managed to keep the attraction in check while he was her patient. Now he wasn’t her patient any more, all bets were off. And her mouth was still tingling from that kiss.
He took the box from her desk and handed it to her. ‘Right. Now, this isn’t a gift from a grateful patient, so it isn’t covered by the rules and regulations. This is just a very small, no-strings gift from me to you.’
She stared at him. ‘Why?’
‘Because I think you’ll like it. And I like putting a little bit of sunshine into people’s days.’ There was a glitter of something she couldn’t read in his eyes. ‘And it’s not for sharing, Serena. I meant it when I said it was just for you.’
‘May I open it now?’
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘Wait until I’ve gone.’ He stole another kiss. ‘Until Tuesday.’
She sat down at her desk as he closed the door behind him and untied the ribbon.
His gift turned out to be a small square box of the most exquisite dark chocolates. From Fortnum and Mason: the poshest grocery store in London, and quite possibly the poshest store in the world. That one small box of chocolates had probably cost him half as much as a whole week’s grocery shop for herself and Ethan.
She’d never, ever been given something so decadent.
How had George known that she loved dark chocolate? Or had it been one of the little things they’d chatted about during the weeks of his treatment, and he’d actually listened to what she’d told him?
When Serena took the lid off the box and saw the chocolates nestled in dark brown frilled paper, and spied a crystallised violet on top of one smooth, dark, sinful chocolate—her absolute favourite flavour—she couldn’t resist taking it and biting off a corner. The bitterness of the smooth, rich chocolate was the perfect foil to the sweet floral fondant inside, and it took her breath away.
Shockingly, it also reminded her of kissing him. Of the sweetness of his mouth in that sinfully dark kiss. She knew that she’d always associate violet creams with kissing George, from now on.
And she really needed her head examined. Had she really agreed to meet him for lunch, next week? Had she really let him kiss her until she was dizzy?
All the same, she finished the chocolate, then put the lid back on and slipped the box into her handbag before texting him to say thank you.
This isn’t a gift from a grateful patient … This is just a very small, no-strings gift from me to you.
Maybe.
But would they be able to say the same about lunch?
CHAPTER THREE
SERENA just about managed to concentrate on her patients for the rest of the afternoon, and then went straight to her parents’ house to collect her son.
‘Mummy!’ Ethan flung himself at her, wrapping his arms round her legs and hugging her tightly. When he released her, Serena knelt down so she was at his level and could hug him back properly.
‘Did you have a nice day at school, darling?’
‘We played football. It was brilliant.’ He beamed at her. ‘And I drawed you a picture. Nanna made basghetti for tea. I helped stir the sauce.’
Serena ruffled his hair; the fact that her five-year-old still couldn’t quite say the name of his favourite food still made her heart melt. She looked up at her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘I’ve made a huge panful, so you’re staying to tea tonight. Don’t argue,’ Carolyn said with a smile.
Serena smiled back, grateful that she wouldn’t have to cook dinner tonight. ‘You spoil me, Mum. Thank you.’
‘Can I help Granddad with his puzzle?’ Ethan asked.
‘Of course you can, gorgeous boy.’ Serena kissed him before releasing him, and the little boy sped away to join Serena’s father.
‘So how was your day, love?’ Carolyn asked, bustling around.
‘OK.’ Serena tried for brightness, not wanting her mother to know how ruffled her usual composure was.
‘How was it really?’ Carolyn asked.
Serena frowned. ‘How do you know it wasn’t OK?’
‘The same way that you know if Ethan’s had a tough day at school. Mother’s instinct,’ Carolyn said. ‘Except I’ve had a few more years to hone mine than you have. What happened?’
Serena went to the doorway to check that Ethan was busy with her father, then quietly shut the door so he wouldn’t accidentally overhear her conversation. ‘I was asked out on a date.’
‘That’s great. We’ll babysit,’ Carolyn said immediately.
Serena shook her head. ‘Not an evening. Lunch.’
‘So you don’t need a babysitter.’ Carolyn shrugged. ‘Well, lunch is still nice. And it means you won’t feel guilty about taking time you feel you ought to spend with Ethan.’
Guilt. Yes. That was exactly it. ‘I can’t do it, Mum.’
Carolyn looked puzzled. ‘Why not?’
‘He was my patient.’
‘Was?’ Carolyn asked.
‘His last treatment was today.’
‘Then, as he’s not actually your patient any more, there’s nothing to stop you seeing him, is there?’ Carolyn pointed out.
Serena bit her lip. ‘What about Ethan?’
‘If this man’s asked you out to lunch, then—assuming it isn’t a weekend—Ethan will be at school.’
‘No, I mean …’ She grimaced. ‘It feels wrong. Dating someone.’
‘Does he know about Ethan?’
Serena nodded.
‘And is it a problem for him?’
‘No. He was pretty sensitive about it,’ Serena admitted.
Carolyn gave her a hug. ‘Not all men are like Jason, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘And you haven’t dated in—well, since Jason.’
Seven years ago. That was the last time she’d been out with a man who wasn’t Jason. Jason had walked out on her almost two years after their first date; in the five years since then, she hadn’t dated at all. She sighed. ‘That’s half the problem, Mum. I don’t know how. I don’t know the rules of dating any more.’
‘I don’t think they’ve changed that much,’ Carolyn said gently. ‘Just be yourself and it’ll be fine.’
‘It won’t work, Mum.’
‘How do you know, if you don’t give it a chance?’
‘We’re from different worlds.’
Carolyn spread her hands. ‘And?’
‘I’m not really his type.’
‘He wouldn’t have asked you out if he didn’t like you for who you are,’ Carolyn pointed out. She stroked Serena’s hair away from her face. ‘Love, you give Ethan everything he needs and you’re a great mum. But you need to make some time for yourself as well. Between Ethan and work, there’s nothing left for you. And that isn’t healthy.’
Jess had said the same thing. Did her father and the rest of her colleagues think that, too? Serena wondered.
‘Do you like him?’ Carolyn asked.
That was the tough question. And Serena certainly wasn’t admitting that George made her heart miss a beat every time she saw him. Or that he’d completely melted her common sense with just one kiss. She could barely admit that to herself.
Carolyn smiled at her silence. ‘So you do like him. Otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned a word about it to me.’
Serena had no answer to that. She knew it was true.
‘So I take it you’re going to have lunch with him, then?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’ The whole idea of it had her lost in confusion.
‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Carolyn asked.
That she’d fall in love with George and he’d let her down. That he’d break her heart, the way Jason had. That he’d walk out on her when she needed him most.
As if the whole thing had been perfectly readable on her face, Carolyn patted her hand. ‘The whole world won’t suddenly go down with the plague if you have lunch with a man, love.’
‘I guess not.’
‘You might discover that you don’t have anything in common and he’s really boring. Or you might discover that he’s actually really nice and you’d like to see a bit more of him. But the only way you’ll find out for sure is to go and have lunch with him.’
It was tempting. So very, very tempting.
And Serena had nearly a week to think about it. A week where George Somers and his beautiful mouth occupied every moment when she wasn’t busy with a patient or with her son. And even then she was guiltily aware of drifting off into a daydream when she was supposed to be concentrating on writing up her notes. Especially as it took her nearly a week to finish the chocolates, they were so rich—and every single one of them made her think of kissing him. Of the way he’d scrambled her brains.
But in the end, on the Monday morning, she chickened out. As much as she wanted to see George again, he was just too dangerous for her peace of mind. She texted him at the beginning of her shift. Thank you for the offer of lunch tomorrow, but I’m afraid I can’t make it. Serena.
She gave no excuses, leaving him no opening for negotiation. And she deliberately didn’t give him an alternative, as he’d suggested.
Dating George Somers was a lovely daydream. But the reality would be something else. It could get complicated. Messy. So it was better not to start something they couldn’t finish. Much more sensible; and Serena was always sensible, nowadays. There was no way she’d let her little boy be caught in the middle of any emotional upheaval. He was too important.
Thank you for the offer of lunch tomorrow, but I’m afraid I can’t make it. Serena.
George stared at the message. He knew it was probably for the best. She was right in that they were from different worlds—and, the last time he’d tried dating someone not from his world, it had ended in misery for both of them. So he’d be better off just forgetting her.
Except he couldn’t.
That beautiful mouth haunted him. A couple of kisses just weren’t enough. He wanted to see those gorgeous green eyes glittering with laughter. And he wanted to feel her mouth on his again, explore her sweetness. Bring her out of herself and see just who she was behind her shell.
The sensible side of him knew he ought to leave it well alone.
The reckless side of him couldn’t possibly resist the challenge.
Serena always kept her phone off while she was at work; if there was an emergency at school, she knew that the teachers would ring through to Reception and her colleagues would pass on the message immediately. She switched her phone on again when her shift finished, and there were no beeps to say that she’d received any messages.
Oh.
So George hadn’t bothered replying to her text.
She stifled the faint ache of disappointment. Well, she’d been proved right. George hadn’t been that interested. Or maybe he’d been having second thoughts, too, and realised that she just wasn’t right for him; in which case her message must’ve been a welcome relief for him. And this feeling of being let down … well, that was plain ridiculous.
This was all for the best. She knew that.
But Serena still felt out of sorts the next day. It made her cross with herself; though she wasn’t sure if she was more cross with herself for being a coward and ducking out of the date in the first place, or for being light-headed enough to think that someone like George Somers would really want to date someone like her.
So she coped with it the way she always did, by throwing herself into work. Her first patient, Janet Riley, was a new patient and suffered from Parkinson’s.
Serena introduced herself with a smile. ‘Your consultant has sent you to me so I can assess your balance and mobility. I’m going to do something called a Berg test, which looks at a range of different movements—well, it’s called a test, but it isn’t anything that you’ll pass or fail. What it does is to help me see which things you find easy to do and which movements you find more difficult, so I can recommend support where you need it. It’ll be part of your annual assessments from now on, and today’s results will be a benchmark so we can see how and where things change, to make sure you get the right help you need.’
‘I’m fine, really. I don’t want to make a fuss,’ Janet said.
‘You’re not making a fuss,’ Serena reassured her. Though she knew where Janet was coming from. She didn’t like making a fuss, either. And she hated the fact that she still felt so thrown by George. That she was still wishing she’d been brave enough to have lunch with him, even though at the same time she knew she’d done the sensible thing.
She took Janet through the fourteen different tests. Moving from a sitting position to standing was a problem; Serena made a note for the occupational health team to look at the chairs at Janet’s home to see if they needed to be raised to make standing up easier, as well as possibly installing grab rails for the bathroom and toilet. Janet clearly also found it difficult to turn and look behind and to place an alternate foot on a stool—stairs might also need looking at, Serena noted. And retrieving an object from the floor took more effort and time than was comfortable for Janet.
‘We have group exercise sessions here especially for people who find balance a little tricky. I think you’d benefit from them,’ she said. ‘The exercises will help with your balance, strength and suppleness.’
‘But I’ve only just been diagnosed,’ Janet said.
‘That’s a good time to start,’ Serena said with a smile, ‘because it means we can keep you going at this level for a lot longer. We have several groups, all at different levels, so you won’t feel like the odd one out. Just come along to the first one and give it a try,’ she coaxed.
Janet bit her lip. ‘I don’t want to make a fuss.’
‘You’re not making a fuss,’ Serena reassured her again. ‘And the big thing is that it’ll help you keep your independence.’
Something that Serena herself valued highly—and something she’d find incredibly difficult to give up. Carving out a successful career as well as bringing up her son as a single parent meant that she was used to being in control. Having to lean on someone else now would be unthinkable.
Janet looked thoughtful. ‘So I won’t have to get people to do things for me.’
Just as Serena had hoped: this was the key. Janet needed to feel independent. ‘Exactly. It’ll give you a chance to do more things the way you want to do them.’ She smiled at the older woman. ‘And then you won’t have to bite your tongue and feel ungrateful when someone does something for you and they don’t do it to your standards.’
Janet looked relieved. ‘So it’s normal to feel like that? I’ve felt so mean-spirited.’
‘It’s perfectly normal. I’d be the same,’ Serena reassured her. ‘So will you give it a try?’
Janet nodded.
‘Great.’ Serena booked her in for the session, wrote out an appointment card for her, and then wrote up her notes before seeing her next patient.
Lenny Rivers had a Colles’ fracture of the wrist. The same injury as George; and Serena was cross with herself for thinking of him. She forced herself to be calm and patient as she explained to Lenny, ‘I need to check the movements of your shoulder, first, as it can be damaged by a fall on the hand. Has your arm been in a sling?’
‘Not as much as it should’ve been,’ Lenny admitted, looking faintly guilty.
She smiled. Given that his arm hadn’t been kept that immobile, his elbow wouldn’t be a problem. ‘Let’s have a look.’ She examined him gently; the colour of his skin looked fine and there was no abnormal swelling, so he was healing nicely. ‘Your skin’s a bit dry, but that’s really common after you’ve been in plaster. If you use a gentle moisturiser or baby oil on your skin, that will help get rid of the dryness. Have you been in any pain?’
‘Not really.’
‘Good. You might find you do get some swelling, so if that happens all you need to do is elevate your arm a bit, maybe put an ice pack for up to fifteen minutes, four times a day. Though make sure the ice isn’t straight against your skin, or you could burn it,’ she warned.
‘It feels a bit strange with the plaster off,’ Lenny said. ‘I’m a bit scared to use it, in case I hurt it again.’
‘I can give you a splint to help support it for the next couple of weeks,’ Serena said. ‘It will help you rest your wrist, but won’t restrict your movements.’
She recorded the rotatory movements of Lenny’s forearm, his wrist flexion and extension, and his finger and thumb movements. She could remember doing this with George; thinking of him made her heart sink. How stupid she’d been to think that George had been serious about wanting to see her. He was a playboy. She would’ve been a temporary distraction for him—and that wasn’t what she wanted. Though she didn’t want a serious relationship, either—because that would mean putting her trust in someone. And how could you trust a playboy not to let you down?
Forcing thoughts of George from her mind, she talked Lenny through the exercises. ‘I’m going to give you a leaflet with all the exercises and the advice I’ve given you today. The exercises are illustrated by photographs, so that’ll help you remember how to do them,’ she explained. ‘You need to do ten reps of each, three or four times a day.’
‘Before every meal and then just before bed?’
‘That sounds about perfect.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll do the first reps now, as it’s lunchtime.’
Yes, lunch that she was going to be spending on her own, at her desk. Which was her own fault; but it was better than the alternative. That she would’ve looked forward to lunch with George and he would’ve stood her up.
She wrote up Lenny’s notes, then checked her phone quickly before she went to the hospital canteen to grab a sandwich, and was shocked to see a text from George.
Even if you have back-to-back patients, you still need a break. I’ll bring lunch with me and wait for you in the waiting room.
What?
She stared at the phone, horror-stricken. He hadn’t replied to her text, so she’d been certain that he’d lost interest in her.
But it seemed that George was planning to meet her at work, completely ignoring her refusal.
Help. No way could George Somers sit in any kind of room without drawing attention to himself. He could be quietly reading a book or something, and women would still be staring at him. He had that kind of presence. If he was in the waiting room right now, he’d stand up to greet her the second she walked in.
People would notice.
People would talk.
The last thing she wanted was people gossiping about her. She just had to hope that George wasn’t already there. Especially as the time-stamp on the text told her he’d only just sent it.
She had to force herself to walk slowly into the waiting room, not to run in panic. To her relief, George wasn’t waiting there. She headed out past the reception desk and was just about to take her phone out of her bag and call him when she saw him walking down the corridor towards her.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘HI.’ GEORGE’s smile made Serena’s knees weak. ‘Busy morning?’
‘Yes.’ She dragged in a breath. She really hadn’t been expecting this. ‘George, I texted you. I said I couldn’t make lunch.’
‘True. But you didn’t give me an alternative date or tell me why you couldn’t make it.’ His eyes glittered. ‘So I guessed that you were actually free, but you’d panicked at the idea of having lunch with me and you’d chickened out.’
She had to admit it. Even though it was embarrassing and made her feel like a gawky teenager instead of a sensible thirty-year-old. ‘Yes,’ she muttered, feeling colour flood into her face.
‘Just as well I’m brave enough for both of us, then,’ he said lightly. ‘I brought some lunch. I thought we could have a picnic in the park opposite the hospital.’
She noticed then that he was carrying a small wicker basket and a blanket. This clearly hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment decision to grab a couple of sandwiches, some fruit and a drink from a shop and then head out into the sunshine. To bring a wicker basket—the sort that looked as if it contained proper cutlery and crockery, as well as food—meant that he must have planned this. ‘You brought a picnic?’ Stupid question. It was obvious. But she didn’t know what else to say.
He shrugged. ‘It seemed like the best solution, in case you were short on time.’
And it also made it difficult—practically impossible—for her to refuse to have lunch with him now.
‘How long have you got until your next appointment?’ he asked.
‘Just over half an hour.’
‘OK. That gives us five minutes to find a nice spot, twenty minutes to eat, and five minutes to walk back so you’re not late for work.’
She appreciated the fact that he took her work seriously and wasn’t expecting her to play hooky just to indulge him. But all the same … ‘George, I know this is really rude of me, and I’m sorry about that, but I just don’t understand why you’re here.’
‘To have lunch with you. As we agreed last week.’
Until she’d backed out. ‘But why me?’ That was what she couldn’t understand. She didn’t belong in his world. ‘Apart from the fact you date a different woman every week, I’m not exactly your type.’
‘Firstly, I don’t date anywhere near as many women as the gossip rags make out; and, secondly, when it comes to you being my type, allow me to be the judge of that.’ He gave her another of the knee-melting smiles. ‘You intrigue me, Serena.’
‘Because I turned you down, and you’re not used to that?’
‘You’re a challenge, you mean? There may be a little truth in that,’ he allowed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘And I like the fact that you’re straight with me. But mainly you just intrigue me. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Ms James. And I want to find out if my theory about you is right.’
‘What theory?’
‘Have lunch with me, and I might tell you.’
But that wasn’t her only worry. ‘The paparazzi follow you about, don’t they?’
‘Only at parties,’ he said. ‘A few of them followed me to my physiotherapy sessions. But, as soon as they realised what was going on and they weren’t going to get any juicy gossip or photographs because my life is incredibly quiet and slow and boring right now, they stopped following me. So don’t worry—your picture isn’t going to be splashed all over the gossip rags tomorrow.’
‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m just used to … well, a more ordinary life.’
‘No problem. So, shall we go and have some lunch?’
They found a quiet spot in the park; he spread out the blanket and gestured to her to sit down. Even though they were in a public place, this felt oddly intimate. As if it were only the two of them in the park, even though it was the middle of London and the park was full of people enjoying the late summer sunshine.
George opened the basket and removed two plain china plates. Then he looked up and caught her smiling. He gave her a questioning look. ‘What?’
‘I’ve never met anyone who actually owns a proper picnic basket, let alone one that contains real crockery. Wow.’
He smiled back. ‘Picnics are more fun if you do them properly.’
‘So you made the picnic yourself?’
‘No. Though I did I choose the food myself,’ he said. ‘I happen to know a very nice deli. That probably sounds disgustingly lazy, but I should perhaps warn you that I’m a bit challenged in the culinary department. My brother says I’m the worst cook in the universe.’
She laughed. ‘Anyone can make a sandwich, George.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’ He laughed back. ‘Next time, I’ll make them myself and see if you can tell the difference.’
Next time. Her smile faded. ‘George. This is really sweet of you to treat me to lunch, but …’ She needed to be kind about this, but she also had to be honest. She needed to be fair to both of them. ‘I don’t think there ought to be a next time,’ she said gently.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m a single mum. I’m not really in the market for a relationship.’
‘Seeing me doesn’t have to involve your child,’ he said softly. ‘Do you have a boy or a girl?’
‘A boy.’ Guilt at turning George down, when he was being so sweet, nudged her into adding his name. ‘Ethan.’
‘That’s a nice name,’ George said. ‘How old is he?’
‘Five.’
‘So he’s at school. Well, you and I are simply having lunch together and, right now, Ethan doesn’t need to know anything about me. And he definitely doesn’t need to worry that I’m trying to push his dad out of the picture.’
Serena blew out a breath. It warmed her that George was clearly thinking of her son’s needs, but she couldn’t let him labour under that misconception about Jason. ‘Ethan’s dad isn’t actually in the picture.’
George said nothing, just waited.
She gave in and told him the rest of it. ‘Jason couldn’t cope with being a dad. Especially as Ethan was a colicky baby. He left us when Ethan was six weeks old. I gave him his engagement ring back, and he hasn’t seen Ethan or me since.’
‘That’s tough on you.’
In some respects, she hated that Ethan was missing out on a father’s love. He didn’t have a dad to play football with him in the park or teach him to ride his bike or do any of the mad, exciting things that dads did with their children. But he had a grandfather who was more than willing to do all those things, and a mother and a grandmother who loved him to bits and were there to kiss scraped knees better and give him a hug when he needed one. So they didn’t need pity. She and Ethan were doing just fine. ‘I don’t regret Ethan for a minute. He’s the light of my life.’
‘And he’s lucky to have a mother who loves him as much as you obviously do.’
That sounded personal. Then she remembered what she’d read in the paper: that George’s mother had walked out on him when he wasn’t much older than Ethan was now. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad stuff for you … About your mum, I mean.’
‘You haven’t. I grew up with a mother who loved me. Just because Frances isn’t my biological mother, it doesn’t make her any the less my mother.’ He shrugged. ‘She’s the one who was always there when I had a bad day at school or a nightmare at three in the morning. She’s the one who listened to me and then made everything all right again with a hug.’
Just as Serena did for Ethan, and she hated it when her son came home in tears, all upset and angry because someone had been unkind to him in the playground. The idea of George as that same kind of vulnerable little boy needing a hug brought tears to her eyes. ‘Sorry. Now I’m being truly wet.’
‘Not at all. But today was meant to be about having fun—and right now I think things are getting a bit heavy for both of us, so we need to take a deep breath and change direction.’ He took her hand, drew it to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm before folding his fingers over it.
The cherishing gesture made the lump in her throat even bigger.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he said.
‘How did you know I was going to apologise?’ she asked, feeling the colour flood into her face.
‘As you’ve apologised three times already in the last five minutes, let’s call it an educated guess,’ he said dryly. ‘We need to set some ground rules. Starting with no apologies being necessary, OK? We’re still getting to know each other. We’re bound to find the odd sore spot while we’re talking. It won’t be a deliberate attempt to hurt each other.’
‘OK.’ She looked straight at him. ‘What are the other ground rules?’
‘You’re not in the market for a relationship. That’s fine, because neither am I.’
‘Don’t you have to … well, settle down and marry someone suitable?’
‘To keep the title going, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
That was the big question. The one he was trying not to think about. The crash had left him with some less visible injuries; and, given the results of the test he’d had last week, he’d made very little progress in healing. It was looking more and more likely that he wouldn’t be able to provide his family with an heir. Which meant that the whole issue of finding a suitable bride and settling down was something he could push to the back of his mind for a bit longer.
He shrugged. ‘Hopefully Dad will live until he’s a hundred so it won’t be an immediate issue.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I’m not looking for forever, Serena,’ he said quietly. ‘Not right now. I’m just enjoying the present.’
‘Feeling lucky to be alive?’
That was exactly how he was feeling; and he appreciated the fact that she understood that. ‘Obviously it’s not the first time I’ve ever had an accident. There’s always a risk when you do the more physically demanding sports. But it’s the first time I’ve been in such a serious crash. And it’s the first time I’ve been banged up for weeks and weeks and weeks. The first time I’ve had to rely on other people so much.’ And he’d hated every second of it.
‘And it gave you too much time to think?’
‘Way too much time.’ And he didn’t want to go into those thoughts. They were too dark, too much, and he’d rather just ignore them and enjoy the sunlight. Maybe he was a coward, locking everything away in a box in his head marked ‘Do not open'—but what was the point in going over and over things he couldn’t fix? He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Women either saw him in terms of his title—and no way was he settling for someone like his mother—or, like Rebecca, they saw him for himself but didn’t feel they could fit into his world.
‘Right now, I need time out. Some fun. I think you do, too. So you and me—this is all about having a good time. No pressure, no seriousness, and it’s most definitely nobody else’s business. Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I only date one person at a time. So any pictures you see in the papers of me with my arm round someone will have been manipulated by the editors purely to sell copies of their gossip rags. So do you think you can stop panicking now and relax with me?’
It was easy for him to say, Serena thought. She hadn’t dated in years, she didn’t have a clue what she was doing, and George … She had a nasty feeling that George could really break her heart if she let him close. OK, so he’d been up front about this thing between them being just fun. But that was from his point of view. If he could make her that dizzy with a single kiss, almost a week ago, what would happen if she spent more time with him? What would happen today? What if he kissed her again?
As if he guessed at her fears, he said softly, ‘I’m not going to pounce on you, Serena. I’m not expecting you to have sex with me in the middle of the park. Today’s about getting to know each other a bit more, having a bit of fun. I get the feeling that you don’t get a lot of time for that.’
‘That’s your theory about me?’ She grimaced. ‘Everybody seems to be saying that to me, this past week,’ she said ruefully. ‘I must be coming across as the most humourless person in the world.’
‘No. You come across as very serious and professional, but you also have a twinkle in your eye and during our appointments you gave as good as you got, teasing me back. That’s what intrigues me. You want to know my real theory about you?’
‘Yes.’ She really did.
‘I think there’s a woman inside you who knows how to have fun, but you’re keeping her locked up. And I’d like to know what would make you let her out.’
‘As I said.’ She sighed. ‘Humourless.’
‘No, that’s not what I said. You’re being too hard on yourself. Let’s have lunch.’ He took out two glasses—proper glasses, not plastic ones, she noticed—and poured in what looked like freshly squeezed orange juice, topping up the drinks with sparkling water. ‘This was the nearest I could get to a non-alcoholic Buck’s Fizz,’ he said.
She was touched that he’d recognised she needed a clear head for the rest of her shift and wouldn’t want to drink wine. ‘Thank you. That’s lovely.’
‘To the beginnings of a new friendship,’ he said, lifting his glass.
‘I’ll drink to that. Just friends,’ she felt compelled to add.
‘Good friends,’ he said with a smile.
The sandwiches—at least, she thought they were sandwiches—were all wrapped neatly in greaseproof paper. He’d definitely gone to a posh deli, Serena thought. ‘What’s in the packets?’
‘I was hoping you’d ask that.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Close your eyes.’
‘Why?’
‘So you can take a bite and guess.’
Oh, help. This was a dangerous game. And hadn’t they just agreed to be friends? This was more like the kind of game lovers played.
Clearly her worries showed on her face, because he said softly, ‘Relax. This is going to be fun.’
What could she do but go along with him and close her eyes?
The bread was gorgeous, soft and full of grains and seeds. There was a distinct peppery taste, mingled with something sweet with a hint of fieriness, and something juicy.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked.
‘Rocket, prawns and sweet chilli sauce?’ she guessed.
‘Excellent. You’ve just earned your first sandwich. You can open your eyes now.’
A neatly cut triangle—with a bite taken from the apex—sat on the plate in front of her.
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