WHERE THE HEART IS

Kate Hardy

Home...
The stunning glacial peaks of Patagonia seem the perfect place for Dr. Rowena Thompson to heal her fragile emotions. When she meets consultant Luke MacKenzie she learns that hers isn't the only heart in need of help.

Is where the heart is...
Their journey is full of saving lives and challenging emotions, and through it they find a love that neither has experienced before -- a love that is tested when Rowena faces a life-changing diagnosis that is familiar to them both. Only if they confront their fears can they face anything, anywhere, as long as they are together.

24/7
Feel the heat -- every hour...every minute...every heartbeat

CHAPTER ONE

His hair was the first thing she noticed. Down to his shoulders, dark and with the tiniest wave to hint that, when short, it curled. Antonio Banderas as El Mariachi, Rowena thought. Beautiful. Her fingers itched to touch it.

As if he'd felt her staring, he turned round. Glanced her way, just for a moment—but enough for her to note that his dark eyes held shadows. Shadows even deeper than her own.

She shook herself. He was a stranger. Though admittedly he was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen—the most gorgeous man any of the other women in the airport had seen, too, judging by the looks he was attracting. Tall, dark and dangerous, with a mouth that promised paradise, dressed in black, he was every woman's fantasy.

Then she realised his gaze had returned to her. There was a faint question in his eyes; she gave the tiniest shake of her head. The attraction might be mutual, but nothing was going to come of it. She'd bet serious money that he had a wife and kids at home. Despite that faint air of danger; Rowena thought, he was the type. A family man.

And she most definitely wasn't a family woman.

She hauled the backpack onto her shoulders, ready to join the rest of the group. Carly, the woman she'd sat next to on the flight out, smiled nervously at her. 'I can hardly believe we're here in Santiago, over seven thousand miles away from London.'

'Well, it's what we've been waiting for. Training for,' Rowena reminded her, returning her smile. 'Though there's still a four-hour flight to go.'

'And then the coach trip. Six hours, the information pack said.' Carly grimaced. 'I hate coach travel. It always makes me sick.'

Rowena was just about to ask if Carly had bought some travel sickness tablets before she'd left England, when she remembered. Right here, right now, she wasn't Dr Thompson, registrar in the emergency department at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Manchester. She was just plain Rowena Thompson, in Chile with a group of people who were doing a one-hundred-kilometre trek through the Torres del Paine National Park in Patagonia to raise money for leukaemia research. If she admitted to medical knowledge, either she'd get annexed as one of the trip's medical officers— which wasn't what she wanted—or she'd have people sidling up to her, wondering if she could just give them a bit of advice about a long-standing health niggle or 'just take a quick look at' yada, yada, yada.

In another time, another place, she'd have obliged. But not now. The next ten days were for Peggy. And nothing, but nothing, was going to distract Rowena from raising an obscene amount of money. Money that still wouldn't be enough to find an instant cure for leukaemia. Money that wouldn't bring Peggy back. But she had to believe it would help. That it would stop someone else feeling as if part of the sun had gone out when someone they loved died from the disease. Because maybe, just maybe, if enough people raised enough money, researchers would finally find a cure.

She shook herself. No doom, no gloom. Peggy had been like sunshine, even towards the end. In the last week she'd admitted to 'not feeling myself today'. Everyone had known what she'd really meant. She'd known she was dying. They'd smiled in front of their friend and colleague, then left the ward, leaned against the wall in the corridor and wept. Raged at the injustice—that the best emergency nurse they'd ever known had been dying from a disease that couldn't be cured. And then they'd gone back to the emergency department and got on with their jobs. True professionals who'd ignored the fact that they were bleeding inside and concentrated on their patients.

'Sit near the front, try to get a window open if you can, and keep your eyes straight ahead,' Rowena offered.

'And don't think about the way the coach lurches round the bends,' Carly said with a grimace. 'Yeah.' Then her eyes widened. 'Wow. Is he with us? How did I miss him in London?'

Rowena knew exactly who she'd see, even before she glanced briefly over her shoulder. 'He's probably one of the guides.' He looked Chilean—those deep dark eyes, that olive skin—as did the people he was talking to; she could hear the odd Spanish word she recognised in their conversation. QED: he was a native.

'Mmm. Well, that'll keep my mind off the coach journey. Maybe I'll end up sitting next to him,' Carly said hopefully.

'Maybe.'

Rowena had intended to catnap on the four-hour flight, but the view from the window was too good to be missed—a spectacular view of the Andes, and then the dramatic ice fields. Strange to think that when she'd left home yesterday, it had been the middle of an August heat wave, at almost thirty degrees centigrade. Where she was heading, she'd be lucky if it got above two degrees. She smiled to herself. Everyone had said she was mad, planning to trek through Chile. And when the heat wave had started three days ago, they'd added she was raving mad, to give up on a rare English summer.

At Punta Arenas, the group boarded an elderly coach to take them to Puerto Natales. She was the last to take her seat—and, to her shock, the only space left was next to Mr Gorgeous.

Hadn't Carly been dying to sit next to him? And, anyway, why wasn't he sitting with the other trek organisers? Stifling the tingle of panic in her stomach, she sat down.

A six-hour trip. Next to a man whose smile had turned every female knee in the vicinity to jelly. Including her own.

Oh, boy.

'Buenas dias, senora.'

Rowena didn't bother correcting him to senorita; she simply smiled back. 'Good afternoon.'

'Good afternoon. My name is Luke,' he said, in perfect, unaccented English.

Not what she'd expected. But, then, if he'd been a guide for a reasonable length of time, of course he'd speak perfect English. Probably French, German and Italian as well. 'Luke' was probably the Anglicised version of his name.

'Luke MacKenzie.'

MacKenzie? No way was that a Chilean surname. The surprise made her meet his eyes—and then she wished she hadn't, because awareness of him turned her stomach to water. Hell and double hell. This wasn't supposed to happen.

And now he was waiting for her to tell her his name. She could be rude and just ignore him—but she'd still have to sit next to him for the next six hours. He'd probably guess why she was ignoring him, too: that she was trying to suppress the spark of attraction towards him. She decided to play it safe, be polite and throw a much-needed barrier between them. 'Rowena Thompson.'

Then she made a second mistake. She took his outstretched hand. A brief clasp, a polite handshake—the English way— and yet it felt as if the contact had been much, much more intimate. As if he'd drawn her hand up to his lips, kissed the back of her hand, then turned her palm over and licked the pulse at the base of her wrist.

She felt a muscle work in her jaw. This wasn't good. She didn't want to react to him like this. Didn't want anyone in her life. Not now, not in the future. Not ever.

'Welcome to Chile,' he said softly.

'You...live here?' she croaked, cursing her voice for letting her down. For telling him that she was affected by him.

'For the moment.'

So he was an Englishman abroad. He looked the outdoor type. She definitely couldn't imagine him working in an office, or any place where he'd be trapped indoors, away from the elements. 'You're one of our guides?' she guessed— merely making conversation.

'Trek medical officer,' he said.

Luke MacKenzie was a doctor?

The surprise must have shown on her face because he shrugged. Just one shoulder, as if he'd come across this reaction so many times that he was bored by it. 'Don't let the hair fool you,' he said softly. 'I'm qualified.'

Her face burned. 'I, um, didn't mean to be rude.' This was where she should offer information in exchange. I'm a doctor, too. But the words stuck in her throat, again. Right here, right now, she wasn't a doctor. She was a fundraiser. And she was going to do this properly. Keep everything compartmentalised and under control. 'Is this your first trek?' she asked politely.

He smiled again, though there was something odd about his smile—something she couldn't put her finger on. 'No. I've been working here for a year.'

A year spent outdoors. No wonder his skin was that beautiful shade of olive: caused by the sun, rather than a Spanish heritage. But why would a trained doctor spend a year out here? Or had he been on secondment to a hospital in Santiago and this was his last chance to see the ice fields before he went back to England?

She shook herself. It was none of her business. Maybe he'd left England because he hated all the administration and politics that were slowly strangling hospitals. The latest one—a European Directive to limit the hours they worked—was going to cause even more chaos, and George, their consultant, was neck-deep in paperwork. To the point where he'd threatened to take early retirement and everyone knew he actually meant it.

'Is this your first trek?' Luke asked, throwing her question back at her.

She nodded. 'Though I've been in training.' On the Pennines. Every day off, for the last four months, she'd spent walking uphill and down, across scree and uneven paths, breaking in her walking boots and increasing her strength— in between running events to raise the sponsorship the charity had asked her to find to cover the minimum of her costs for the trip. Once word had spread about what she was doing, she'd raised more than those costs from the emergency department alone. Ex-patients who remembered Peggy had read the story in the local paper and sent donations. And one six-year-old boy had even sent his pocket money along with a note in wobbly childish handwriting, a gift which had brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes.

'I hope everyone else has been as sensible.'

'Hmm?'

'We always get at least one,' Luke said. 'The type who was too busy to do any training, even in the gym, before flying out here. A hundred kilometres isn't far. Split over eight days, that's about two hours' walking a day.'

'On level ground, maybe.' Rowena had read her information pack thoroughly and knew the truth. They'd be walking for up to eight hours a day, over a wide variety of terrains.

'So we end up with...'

He paused, and Rowena almost fell into the trap. Almost listed the most common injuries—blisters, sprains, strains. And if the novice trekkers were unfit, overweight and not wearing proper shoes, probably a case of plantar fasciitis as well—damage to the tissue that stretched from the heel to the toe. Fascia tissue took months to heal, and plantar fasciitis often needed a steroid injection into the heel to cure it.

'A problem for you,' she finished.

Funny, she'd assumed the doctor changed with each trek, though it made sense to have someone permanent, someone who knew the terrain and was familiar with procedures out here. Still, it was an unusual career choice. No chance of progress—more like a sabbatical, taking time out of his career. Why? Had he, too, lost someone to leukaemia?

But that was private, his business, and she didn't want to know. Didn't want to get involved. 'Your wife must miss you if you've been out here for a year.'

Hell and double hell. Why had she said that? Now he'd think she was fishing, trying to find out if he was free. He'd think she was trying to flirt with him. Anyway, if he was married—and she stood by her first impression, that he was a family man—his wife was probably out here with him. She could be one of the guides meeting them at Puerto Natales, for all Rowena knew. They probably worked together somehow.

His eyes were unreadable. 'I'm not married.'

'Oh.' How to put both your size sevens in your mouth at once. Maybe his wife had died of leukaemia—maybe that was why he was out here, and Rowena had just managed to scrape the top layer off his scars. Or was that a slight trace of amusement in his voice? She was cringing inwardly to the point where she couldn't meet his eyes. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy,' she mumbled, feeling her cheeks burn.

'No pasa nada.'

'Sorry, I don't speak Spanish.' Though it made her look at him.

And he was smiling. With an edge, admittedly, but he was smiling. 'No worries,' he translated. 'Literally, it's "nothing happens", but it means more or less "no worries".'

He had a point. She was over seven thousand miles away from Manchester. Away from the emergency department. Away from the red tape. All she had to do was walk through the Torres del Paine national park—in the shadow of the three huge towers of granite which gave the park its name— and come out the other side. Walk through her own pain, her loss, and start to heal.

No worries.

'Right.' She gave him a tight smile, and hoped he'd let the conversation drop for a bit.

It had definitely been a mistake, angling for a seat next to her, Luke thought. But he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd caught her eye at the airport—beautiful eyes, a deep slate blue you could drown in—and he'd felt that instant hot zing of attraction. She'd given the tiniest shake of her head, telling him that, no, she wasn't interested. He should have respected that.

The fact he hadn't...was worrying. He didn't do relationships. Not any more. Not since Charlie.

Charlie. He forced down the gut-wrenching guilt. Hell. He was doing his penance, wasn't he? A year spent in Patagonia, where Chile's slender length broke up into hundreds of small islands. A land of glaciers, deep valleys and wooded mountains. The edge of the Andes, where condors flew and the winds tore through you.

Though it wasn't enough. Would never be enough. It couldn't blow away the guilt, the feeling that the better half of him had died.

Not that he'd talk about it to anyone. It was still too raw. Which was why he'd stayed aloof for the last eighteen months. Split up with the woman he'd intended to marry— she deserved better, after all—and had turned down every offer since.

And there had been offers.

Most of the people on the charity treks had a special reason for raising money. They usually did it in memory of someone they'd lost, a tribute combined with a pilgrimage. But some did it just to keep a friend company. And those were usually the ones who noticed the guides and the trek doctor. The ones who let the southern hemisphere seduce their senses. The ones who sidled up to his tent under starlight. Offered.

Luke always, but always, said no. Even though he could hear Charlie's voice so clearly in his head, asking him when he was going to stop wearing the hair shirt. It wasn't just for penance: Luke hadn't wanted to lose himself in mindless sex with someone he'd never see again. And he didn't want a relationship either. No one-night stands, no for evers, and nothing in between. Staying apart had been his choice. The sensible thing to do.

And that was why Rowena Thompson was dangerous. This had been the first time in eighteen months that he'd felt desire coil hot in his belly.

Desire you can't act upon, he reminded himself. You're not going to get involved. Besides, she may not be wearing a wedding ring—he'd checked that out the second she'd sat next to him—but that doesn't mean she doesn't have someone waiting for her at home. And she's one of the trekkers, which means she's under your care. Which means she's off limits. Another week or so, and you'll never see each other again.

He could manage a few measly days...couldn't he?

He had to revise that before . they reached Puerto Natales. He hadn't even managed six hours. They'd had two rest breaks. That meant two chances to move, swap places with one of the regular guides. And Luke hadn't done it. He'd spent his time sitting right next to Rowena. He hadn't done the sensible thing and dragged himself away.

Admittedly, they hadn't had a personal conversation. He'd kept it light, told her about the park's flora and fauna, the history of the park he'd learned from the guides over the last year.

'So it's going to be cold and wet in the national park?'

'About two or three degrees centigrade,' he confirmed. 'But then you have to add in the wind-chill factor. That's why we recommend people wear a fleece and light layers— and breathable waterproofs. You'll probably get drenched from rain or just the wind blowing water from the lakes...' Mmm, he definitely wasn't going to let his thoughts go any further along that route: the idea of Rowena Thompson in wet, clinging clothing was a bit too much of his self control. 'But you'll be able to shower at the end of the day.' He raised an eyebrow. 'I assume you're going to be sleeping in the refugio?'

'The hostel, you mean?' At his nod, she gave him a scornful look. 'No. I'm sleeping in a tent.'

Like he was.

Maybe next to him.

And that wasn't going to be good for his peace of mind. Maybe he should try to put her off. 'I hope you're good at putting up a tent in the wind.'

She frowned. 'How do you mean?'

'We get sixty-mile-an-hour winds in Patagonia,' he clarified. Not constantly, but some of the gusts could be that harsh. 'That's why we use low-rise tents. Anything higher tends to break. And, of course, it's winter here.'

'I've camped out before.' Her chin lifted.

Stubborn, as well as beautiful. 'I'm just warning you. It can be a bit rough at night. No one will think any the less of you if you stay in the refugio.'

'I'll think less of me,' she said simply.

He didn't have an argument for that. Fine. He'd just make sure his tent was as far away from hers as he could get.

CHAPTER TWO

Except he didn't. Luke pitched his tent right next to Rowena's. OK, so he didn't go quite as far as offering to help her put up her tent—the look on her face told him she was determined to do it on her own—but Luke kept an eye on her all the same. He didn't sit anywhere near her when the group paused for a bowl of curanto for their evening meal—a hearty stew of fish, meat and potato, served with a chunk of cornbread—but he was still aware of her, of every single movement she made.

When they turned in for the night, his senses were at white heat. He swore softly. What was it about Rowena that had crashed through his barriers? He never, but never, let anyone ruffle his composure like this. Never let himself feel that fierce ache of wanting. Never let himself wonder how soft her mouth would feel under his. Never lay there fantasising about just how well his body would fit into hers.

Hell. He'd turned into a hormone-crazed teenager in the space of a few seconds. How could it have happened? He was supposed to be the responsible, sober medical officer— the man who was friendly to the trekkers, kept their spirits up when they flagged, and sorted out any medical problems quickly and efficiently. He'd worked out here for a year. He could do the job in his sleep.

But now, here he was, concocting steamy fantasies about the woman in the tent next to his. Picturing her straddling him, her head thrown back in abandon as he slid inside her. Imagining the taste of her skin. Rubbing his tongue along his lower lip as if she'd just nibbled it. Hell, he could almost feel her mouth trailing over his throat, over his pecs, moving slowly south until—

'Stop it,' he told himself, and rolled over onto his front. He squeezed his eyelids shut, gritted his teeth and dug his nails into his palms. This was a bad case of lust. It was probably only happening because he'd been celibate for the last eighteen months. It was just a physiological thing. It'd pass.

He hoped.

The next morning, the group set off on the way to Lake Pehoe.

'I'm glad this first bit's so flat,' Carly confided to Rowena as they walked together. 'I was hoping we'd ease in gently. I mean, I trained in that huge climbing centre in North London and even managed to work up to a couple of levels above the novice climbing walls, but at the end of the day it's not like doing the real thing, is it?'

Rowena grinned. 'I think I was luckier, in, Manchester. At least I had easy access to the Peak District and the Pennines.'

'Well, I'm not going to moan. I'll try not to, anyway,' Carly said. 'I'm doing this for Shanna.'

'Shanna?' Rowena asked gently.

'My niece. She's eight. She had leukaemia, but she's in remission at the moment.' For a moment, Carly's lip wobbled. 'She's my sister's only child. An IVF baby.' She gulped. 'It doesn't seem fair that she should have leukaemia.'

It wasn't fair that Peggy had had it either. 'Leukaemia isn't fair,' Rowena said softly. 'But Shanna's young. There's a good chance she'll be fine.' Unlike Peggy.

'I've read up on it,' Carly said. Her eyes were bleak. 'If she's one of the unlucky ones...'

'Hey. Don't think that way. And you're here, aren't you? The money you're raising is going to help find a cure. You're doing something positive about it.'

'Yeah. And I shouldn't be moaning. I came here to...well, to get away from it for a while, as well as to raise money for the cause.'

Me, too, Rowena thought. Though it wasn't quite working. Even though the scenery around them was stupendous—they were walking alongside the Lago del Toro, under the shadows of the peaks of the Torres Massif—the pain wasn't going away. The emptiness. The need she'd sworn she'd never let herself feel again.

'Morning. How's it going?' a soft voice asked, and Rowena nearly stumbled. Damn. Why couldn't she have some kind of early warning radar where Luke MacKenzie was concerned?

Carly blushed. 'We're fine—aren't we, Rowena? This is an amazing place. Oh, by the way, I'm Carly.'

'Luke MacKenzie, trek medical officer.' He took her outstretched hand, shook it and smiled at her.

She gaped. 'You don't look like a doctor.'

He grinned. 'A white coat wouldn't stay pristine for long out here. Besides, it wouldn't be warm enough.'

'Mmm, I didn't think it'd be this chilly.'

'Chilly in Chile.' He smiled at her. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Not bad. Though doubtless tonight, after our first proper day of hiking, I'll be out like a light,' she said wryly.

'And you, Rowena?'

Rowena had hoped that he'd keep talking to Carly, that she'd be able to slide away very gently and walk on her own, leave them to chat together. But it was as if Luke had guessed her intention and wanted to stop her. 'Fine,' she muttered. Actually, she hadn't slept well. And when she had slept, she'd dreamed. Dreamed really X-rated stuff, involving a certain dark-eyed man, which had made her unable to meet his eyes that morning at breakfast.

He was probably used to women throwing themselves at him. Well, she wasn't going to make a fool of herself and add her name to the list. Definitely not.

'What's that animal over there?' Carly asked, pointing at a shaggy, light brown animal.

To Rowena's relief, Luke switched into guide mode. 'It's a Patagonian guanaco—you'll see a lot of them in the national park. They're a sort of wild relative of the Andean llama,' he explained. He told them more about the trees, too, the lenga and coigue.

'And the park's name—does it mean "towers of pain" because the trek can be tough?' Carly asked.

He chuckled. 'Not exactly. "Paine" is a Tehuelche Indian word for "blue"—that's the colour of the water and the colour of the ice. You'll also see the Cuernos del Paine, when we get to Lake Pehoe—they're granite towers, called "the horns" because of their shape.' He grinned. 'Though there's a great legend about how they were formed. They were made by an evil serpent called Cai Cai, who caused a flood which killed the warrior tribe in the region. The snake turned their bodies into stone and then created the horns.'

'I see.' Carly nodded.

'You'll see a lot, over the next few days,' Luke told her. 'In the forests around here, it's a birdwatcher's paradise— catitas, woodpeckers, long-tailed meadowlarks and the great horned owl. Plus you'll see condors, glaciers...and 1 think you'll like Lake Pehoe.'

'Just don't go swimming in it?' Carly guessed.

He grinned, and Rowena had a vision of Luke swimming in the lake in the Andean summer. He'd be confident in the glacial waters, disappearing under the surface and emerging like a seal, his hair slicked back and shining wetly in the sun. And then...

'Rowena?'

'Uh, sorry. I thought I saw a condor,' she lied. She just hoped that Luke hadn't been able to read her thoughts. But when she glanced at him, she had the nasty feeling that he knew exactly what she'd been thinking.

And that he'd been thinking along the same lines.

Wet, bare skin.

This was crazy. She didn't do relationships. Not long term, not short term. Nothing. Nada, as he would say. So why did she have the hots for a man she barely knew, a man she'd never see again after the trek was over?

To her relief, he let them walk on and moved to the group following them, chatting lightly to them. Then she realised what he was doing. Assessing the walkers, checking if anyone was having difficulty, who might need more help, who was a potential medical case. Exactly what she would have done, in his position. Putting his job first.

She liked that. She liked it a lot. And that made it even harder to stay away from him. Though she knew she ought to, for her peace of mind.

After a lunch of empanadas—a minced beef pastry which also contained tomato, raisins and hard-boiled egg—they set off on the final leg to the camp. The path was much steeper, climbing upwards, and Rowena was glad she'd taken the time to do a few stretches after lunch—her calves were definitely feeling the strain.

But it was worth it when they reached Lake Pehoe. 'Wow,' she said softly. The water was turquoise and shimmered under the cool winter sky. She'd seen pictures of it in the guide book she'd bought when she'd signed up for the trek, but she hadn't been prepared for it to be this beautiful.

'Want me to take a photograph of you together?' Luke asked.

He'd done it again. Crept up on her and taken her by surprise.

Though she noticed that Carly wasn't complaining. Carly smiled and handed him her camera, then made Rowena pose with her in front of the lake, with the Cuernos del Paine rising up behind them. 'You're right, it's fabulous,' she said. 'It reminds me of the Mediterranean, that incredible turquoise blue.'

Why couldn't she talk that easily to him? Why did it feel as if her mouth had been stuffed with sand? But if she didn't do something, Carly would notice. She might even comment. Or, worse, realise what had made Rowena so tongue-tied. So Rowena handed her camera to Luke, muttered instructions on how to use it and smiled her thanks when he returned it to her.

Dinner was another meal of hot soup followed by stew and cornbread. Rowena passed on the offer of pisco sours— the traditional Chilean spirit mixed with egg white, lemon juice and sugar—and stuck to a single glass of Merlot, not wanting to risk a hangover when they had a hard day's walking ahead. Carly turned in early, and Rowena almost wished she'd chosen a bed in the refugio too—though when she left the bar for her tent, she was glad she hadn't.

Despite the hardness of her bed and the, coolness of the night air, it was worth sleeping in a tent. Tonight there were no clouds and no wind, and the night sky took her breath away. The stars were bright—much brighter than they ever were in Manchester, with all the city's light pollution—and the sky looked like indigo velvet. It made her want to reach out and touch it... And then she heard a scream.

Human, or a bird?

Then she heard another scream, and this time it was unmistakable. 'Help!'

She grabbed her torch and headed towards the sound.

She was the second person on the scene, behind Luke by about ten seconds.

'It's Stephen,' the young woman by the edge of the lake sobbed.

One of the group who'd been drinking pisco sours, Rowena noticed.

'He fell in. We were messing about I didn't know we were this close to the edge. He can swim, but...'

But he'd been drinking—and the water was very, very cold. Either factor would impair his ability to swim. Putting both into play meant he was likely to drown.

'I thought he was messing about—you know, pretending he was in trouble.' The young woman gulped. 'But then I realised he really was in trouble.'

'How long's he been in?' Luke asked.

'A few minutes.' She shook her head, clearly panicking, and when you were scared, Rowena knew, it was hard to judge how quickly time passed. 'I don't know.'

In waters that cold, with a low air temperature as well, just a couple of minutes could give Stephen hypothermia.

Luke's mouth was set in a thin line. 'I'll give you the lecture later. Just stand back—I don't want anyone else falling in. I'll get him.' He stripped off his jacket and then plunged into the lake.

Rowena put her arm round the young woman and guided her back from the edge. The rest of the group was silent. 'You're Melissa, aren't you?'

'Yes. I... We didn't mean it. I didn't know those drinks were so strong. They tasted... Well, it was a laugh. He just lost his footing.'

'He can swim,' one of the others put in.

'Yes, but this is glacial water. It comes from an ice field,' Rowena pointed out. 'Look, can one of you run back to the refugio and get some blankets and towels? We need them now.'

'I'll go,' one of them said, and immediately raced towards the refugio.

'Why do you need blankets?' another asked.

'The air temperature is cold—his body's not going to be able to cope with the shock of it on top of the cold water,' Rowena said.

'He's not going to die, is he?' Melissa wailed.

'It's likely that he's going to have at least a mild case of hypothermia—' the risk increased with every minute he was in the water '—so he's in for a rough night.'

'Hypothermia? Isn't that what you get when you're old, or if you've been on a mountain all night?'

'It means your body's core temperature is a couple of degrees lower than normal,' Rowena explained. 'It happens more quickly in cold water. As your body cools, your brain and nerves work more slowly and your muscles start to cramp. That means Stephen's not going to be able to swim properly, and his heart might not beat properly either.'

'So he's going to be really ill?'

'It depends on how fit he is and how cold the water is. And drinking alcohol increases the risk of developing hypothermia,' Rowena added.

Melissa looked frightened enough. Rowena decided not to add that if Stephen's temperature went too low, his heart rate would drop, he could slip into a coma, and, he might even die. 'I think in future it might be a good idea to decide to have a few drinks or to have a night-time stroll round the lake—not both.'

'We never meant this to happen. We were just having a laugh, enjoying the stars and that. He slipped on the rocks and fell in,' Melissa said, her voice shaky. 'I thought he was messing about at first. You know what blokes are like.'

The blankets arrived at the same time that Luke emerged from the lake, supporting Stephen and half dragging him.

Luke nodded approval at the blankets and towels. 'Quick thinking. We need to get him out of this wet stuff and dry him, and get him back to the refugio.'

'You're wet as well,' Rowena pointed out as she helped Luke strip the wet clothing from the groggy man and blot the water from his body with towels.

'I'm a doctor and I'm used to the climate.'

'Don't be so ridiculous. If you stay out here in wet clothes, you'll develop hypothermia as well! We need the trek medical officer at peak fitness,' Rowena snapped.

'I'll change when we get in,' Luke said.

She didn't bother arguing, simply helped him wrap Stephen in the blankets and supported him on the way back to the refugio. The young man was too cold and disorientated to talk to them—he simply accepted their help with mumbled thanks and stumbled along between them.

'Shall I get him a hot drink?' Melissa asked.

'No, if you try to warm him up too quickly you could burn him,' Rowena answered. 'Where's your medical kit, Luke?'

'In the refugio. It's safer there than in my tent.'

Stephen's girlfriend clearly needed something to do to make her feel as if she was doing something to help. 'Melissa, can you run ahead and get the kit? And have you got a room or were you sleeping in tents?'

'I've got a room,' she said.

'Good. We'll need it for him tonight,' Rowena said.

'I'll get the stuff,' Melissa said.

When they got to the refugio, Melissa was waiting with the medical kit.

'Got an ear thermometer in there?' Rowena asked.

Luke nodded. 'Stephen, I'm just going to put this in your ear and take your temperature, OK?' he asked. The young man nodded. 'Thirty-three degrees.'

Low, but manageable, Rowena thought. So they wouldn't need to call out the air ambulance. Yet.

'That's good. You've got mild hypothermia, Stephen, so we'll be able to help you right here, with something called passive rewarming. That means we'll wrap you in warm blankets to reduce the amount of heat your body's losing to the air.' Luke gave Melissa a tight smile. 'Don't look so scared. He should warm up again in three to four hours.'

'We need to avoid afterdrop, so we'll keep his arms and legs uncovered, but we'll cover his head and neck,' Rowena added quietly. Because the body's extremities cooled faster than the torso, if they warmed his arms and legs, the colder blood in Stephen's limbs would re-enter his circulation and make his hypothermia worse. Heat was lost more quickly from the head, so keeping Stephen's head covered would help.

Luke's eyes narrowed. 'You know about hypothermia?'

Oh, no. She'd been bandying technical terms about without thinking. It must be obvious to him that she was a medic. 'I've done some first aid,' she admitted. It just happened to be part of her job as an emergency department registrar. Though he didn't need to know that much detail.

'Do I get him a drink now?' Melissa asked.

'Not until he stops shivering,' Luke said. 'But shivering's a good sign. It means your body's warming up again,' he added to Stephen.

'When you get too cold, your body loses the shiver reflex,' Rowena explained.

'Right,' Melissa said, biting her lip. 'So he's going to be OK?'

'We'll keep an eye on him but, yes, he should be fine,' Luke reassured her.

'Go and get changed,' Rowena told him. 'I can cope here for a few minutes.'

Again, Luke gave her that assessing stare, but he nodded and left. When he returned, he was wearing jeans—old, faded, but snug enough to make Rowena feel a surge of lust—and a black fleece.

'Should I get you a warm drink?' Melissa asked.

'That'd be kind. Yes, please,' Rowena said, before Luke could say anything. When the young woman had left the room, she glanced at Stephen. He looked drowsy; the chances were he wasn't going to pay that much attention to what she was saying. She added quietly to Luke, 'She needs something to do—something to make her feel as if she's helping. She's feeling guilty about what's happened.'

His eyes were hard. 'So she damned well should. Of all the stupid things—drinking and then going near the edge of the lake! It'd be bad enough on a warm night in a hot country, but to do it here, on the edge of a glacial lake in the middle of winter...'

'Hey. She's young, she's frightened. She knows she's done wrong, and if you shout at her you're likely to make that whole bunch aggressive towards you.' Rowena had seen it happen before too many times on a Saturday night—a lot of the Saturday night emergency cases could be traced back to the effects of alcohol. The ones who came in with the emergency case had usually been drinking, too, and from her first weekend in the ED Rowena had been taught to defuse the situation, keep it light and make sure any aggression didn't spiral out of control. 'Keep it calm.'

'But it was such a stupid—'

'I know. She knows. They all know. Trust me, you don't need to give them a lecture.'

Melissa came in and overheard Rowena's last words. 'Yeah. She's already done it for you—in a nice way. I'm sorry. We all are,' she said. She took Stephen's hand. 'Steve's kid brother died from leukaemia,' she said quietly.

Stephen opened his eyes. 'Being here—we're trying to do something to help, so it doesn't happen to someone else,' he mumbled. 'Sorry I caused all this trouble.'

'It wasn't your fault,' Melissa defended him. She turned back to face Luke and Rowena. 'Steve was feeling a bit raw tonight, so we thought we'd cheer him up. We didn't realise how strong those pisco sours were—or how near the edge of the lake we were. It won't happen again.'

Rowena saw a muscle tighten in Luke's face. He was clearly reining in his temper—but why? Had he seen someone die in the glacial waters around here? Or was it the story of Steve's brother that had upset him? Had Luke lost a younger brother or sister? It's nothing to do with you, she reminded herself. Back off. And he hasn't told you of his own free will, so prying is just going to hurt him.

In the end, Luke shrugged. 'It's getting late. You'd better get some sleep.'

'I'd rather stay.'

'It's going to take a while until Steve's warmed up again,' Luke said shortly. 'You'd be better off getting some rest. We've got a long day tomorrow.'

'But—' Melissa began.

'Don't worry, we're going to keep checking his temperature until it's back up to normal,' Luke said.

'We'll call you if there's anything we need,' Rowena promised, seeing that the young woman was near to tears. 'He's going to be fine.' When Melissa left, she glanced at Stephen, who'd dropped back into a doze, and said, 'You didn't need to be quite that harsh with her.'

Luke's face said it all for him. Back off. Now.

She changed tack. 'I don't suppose there's any chance of warmed, humidified oxygen?' They'd need it if Stephen started to deteriorate, and she'd be happier if she knew it was nearby.

'Put it this way, where we're going tomorrow, the only contact we'll have with the outside world is by radio,' Luke said dryly. 'We're a long way from a state-of-the-art medical facility.'

'Just wondered.'

'If I think he's deteriorating, I'll call the air ambulance.'

Still that tightness in his voice. Something had clearly upset him, but she could tell that he wasn't going to talk to her about it. She sat in silence with him, writing down sets of observations every fifteen minutes.

The next thing she knew, Luke was shaking her awake.

'Huh?' Then years of practice from her time as a junior doctor came to the fore, and she was awake instantly. 'Sorry. I meant to stay awake, help you.'

'No pasa nada. If you're not used to being outdoors all day, the fresh air tends to make you sleep well at night.'

She flushed. 'Even so. How's Steve?'

'His temperature's back to normal.'

She glanced at her watch. As she'd expected, it had taken three hours. 'That's good.'

'We'll hand him over to Melissa now.' He shepherded her out of the room and found Melissa, who was hunched over a half-empty mug of tepid coffee.

Melissa looked worried, as if she wanted to know what was going on but was scared Luke would bite her head off if she asked.

Luke obviously saw it, too, because his tone was gentler this time. 'I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I guess being drenched in ice-cold water doesn't do much for my manners.'

She smiled awkwardly. 'Sorry.'

Luke put her in the picture quickly. 'If you're at all worried during the night—and I mean if anything doesn't seem quite right to you—then I want you to call me. It's unlikely he'll develop any complications but if he does, the earlier we know about it the better chance we have of helping him.'

'I promise,' Melissa said solemnly. 'And thank you. I know what happened was our fault, and we didn't deserve...' Her voice tailed away.

'Hey.' Luke squeezed her shoulder. 'I was young once. I've got drunk and done stupid things. Though I drew the line at swimming in a glacial lake in the middle of winter.'

'Well. Thank you anyway,' she said, smiling through the threatening tears.

'I'll walk you to your tent,' Luke said to Rowena.

She was perfectly capable of finding her own way back, but she found herself nodding. 'Thanks.'

He waited until they were out of the refugio before asking, 'So how come someone who's "done some first aid" knows rather more than the average person about treating hypothermia? Are you on a mountain rescue team somewhere?'

'No. I...' She sighed. 'OK. I'm a qualified doctor, too.'

'How come the organising team didn't know that?'

'Because I don't want to be responsible for other people. I'm here to walk, raise money.'

'Mmm-hmm. And that's why you waded right in just now.'

'You were the one in the water,' she pointed out.

'Don't split hairs.' He gave her a sidelong look. 'That's the thing about being a doctor. You never quite switch off, do you?'

'I suppose not,' she admitted.

They walked in silence to her tent—a silence which grew tenser by the second.. Rowena was beginning to find it hard to breathe. All she could think of was how it would feel to have his mouth covering hers. Hell. This was the last thing she needed. She dragged in a breath. 'Thanks for walking me back.'

'Least I could do.'

She hadn't intended to meet his eyes. By starlight, they were very dark and very intense. And his mouth wasn't that far from hers. She saw the instant he realised it, too, and she moved away before he could make the thought reality. 'See you tomorrow,' she said, knowing she was being a coward, and ducked into the safety of her tent.

CHAPTER THREE

Rowena was a doctor, just like he was. So why hadn't she said anything before? She'd claimed that she didn't want to be responsible for others, but he didn't believe that. When you were a doctor, being responsible for others was part of the territory. And hadn't she stepped in to help when she'd been needed?

Maybe she was shy. He'd noticed that she either chatted to Carly or stayed on the sidelines of the group, not saying much. He didn't think she wasn't being snobby or standoffish—it was almost as if she didn't know how to mix in, had never been taught how to be part of a group.

Not that it was any of his business. He should just follow her lead and back off.

Except he was sure she felt the same.

And he couldn't back off. Something drew him to her. The same something that gave him the kind of dreams he really didn't want to wake from. Maybe, Luke thought the next morning, as he gulped a cup of viciously strong coffee in a vain attempt to clear his head, maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. And hers.

Maybe it would be good for both of them. No strings attached, no promises, no broken hearts. She'd lost someone close, too, so maybe this was a way of helping them both heal. Let the barriers down, let the pain out, let themselves move on instead of being stuck in regret and mourning and loss.

Maybe.

*

Stephen was up and about at breakfast and seemed none the worse for his adventure the night before. Rowena smiled at him and Melissa, gulped her coffee and disappeared before anyone in that little group could hail her as a hero. She hadn't done that much after all'.

When they started the next part of the hike, the forest was cool and damp, and Rowena was glad of her waterproof jacket. The scramble up to the top was easy—but the view of the lake and the glacier took Rowena's breath away. She'd expected the glacier to be white or grey, but it shimmered in different shades of blue, huge vertical waves and peaks of frozen ice, as if a choppy sea had been frozen in mid-wave. The lake itself was grey, which she'd read was due to the mineral content of the water. Obviously the glacier was named after the lake.

She could hear a rumbling, crashing noise in the distance. She couldn't place it at first, and then she realised that small bergs were 'calving' from the Grey Glacier and falling into the lake. The wind was driving the smaller bergs down to the shoreline. The smallest lumps of ice were white, but the larger pieces were bright blue, like the glacier.

'It's stunning,' she breathed.

'The southern part of the Patagonian Ice Field,' Luke said, his voice filled with pride. 'It's the largest ice field in the world.'

Ice, ice, everywhere—and not a single bit of it could cool her body's reaction to him. Panic made her want to run, but she knew that would be stupid. Immature. Maybe a neutral conversation would help ease the pressure. And didn't English people always talk about the weather? 'I thought ice was clear or white.'

'It is when there's air in it and the pressure's low. In a glacier, the weight of the ice causes major pressure within the ice, and that's why it's blue. The bigger blocks end up in coves and inlets; as they melt, the density of the ice slowly decreases and they lose their colour.'

'And I thought they were supposed to move really slowly.'

'Glaciers, or icebergs? The glacier's receding at a rate of just over three centimetres a day. New caves and crevasses form every day—so every time I come here, it looks different.' He sounded wistful.

He was standing close enough to touch her. All she had to do was take a step backwards and she'd be in his arms. She could almost feel the pressure of his body against hers, the warmth leaping out between them. What would it feel like to curl her fingers through his hair? Her hands almost itched with the urge to touch him, to pull his head down to hers and touch her lips to his.

But that would be a seriously stupid move. She didn't do flings. Didn't do for evers. Didn't do relationships, full stop.

She mumbled some excuse about needing to see one of the others, and stepped away. But she was aware of every move he made on the way back. And even though She was sitting on the opposite side of the dining room that evening, during their customary meal of soup, hot tea and stew, it felt as if she was right next to him.

Why couldn't she get him out of her head?

The worst thing was, the one time she caught his gaze, his eyes were saying exactly the same thing. Hot, dark, full of passion. Passion he kept reined in—but it was there. And she knew it was all for her.

Ah, hell. Maybe she should break a rule. Just this once. Let somebody get close to her. And maybe she shouldn't. Who knew if one night would be enough, for either of them? And it wasn't fair to start something she couldn't finish.

It was another clear night, so Rowena sat at the edge of the lake to watch the stars, wrapped in a scarf and gloves and a thick jacket. Last night, when Stephen had fallen into the lake and she'd been caught up in the rescue, she hadn't had the time to pinpoint the Southern Cross. Tonight Stephen and his friends were safely inside the refugio—and, she noticed, they hadn't touched a single drop of alcohol. So tonight she'd be able to enjoy these moments on her own.

The sky was so very different from home. Darker, without the light pollution that usually lightened the city sky. The stars were sharper, more intense, and the constellations unfamiliar. And then she saw it: the Southern Cross.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' a soft voice asked.

She should have guessed that Luke would follow her out here. They'd been avoiding each other all day, ever since the glacier—but every time they'd looked up, they'd met each other's gaze. 'Mmm.'

'Would you rather be alone?'

Yes. No. Both. She shrugged. 'I don't know.'

He sat on the rocks next to her, close but not actually touching. 'At least we shouldn't have to rescue anyone tonight. That's something. Did you enjoy the glacier?' She'd joined the group which had trekked right to the edge of the glacier for the best view.

'Yes. Funny, a year ago, I wouldn't even have thought of coming here.'

'And now you're raising funds.' His voice was soft, so gentle. 'You lost someone to leukaemia?'

Her throat felt tight. 'A colleague.' Though Peggy had been much more. Peggy was the mother she'd never had. The kind of mother she'd wanted—and had discovered that she definitely didn't have. And when she'd first joined the emergency department and Peggy had found out that the young doctor would be on her own for Christmas, she had insisted that Rowena join her family for the holiday. She'd even made up a stocking for Rowena to open—nothing expensive, just a bottle of nail varnish and a tangerine, some nuts and a silly toy—but it had been the first Christmas stocking Rowena could ever remember getting. Which had been something, at the age of twenty-five.

'I lost someone, too.'

So that was why he was out here. Trying to make a difference.

'Even though we saved Stephen's life yesterday, it's not going to bring back the ones we loved, is it?' he asked quietly.

To her horror, Rowena felt a tear rolling down her face. She dashed it away. 'I don't cry. Ever.' She'd cried herself out when she was much, much younger. 'Just ignore me.'

But he didn't. Instead, he took her hand. The hand she'd used to brush the tear away. And he just sat there, holding her hand in a no-pressure silence. He, too, had gloves on, but she could feel the blood throbbing through his fingers, and panic welled up inside her. People didn't hold her hand. Not even when...

She wasn't going back there. The past was staying exactly where it belonged. She didn't need to explain anything to him. And she didn't need kindness or affection. Not from him, not from anyone. She wrenched her hand out of his.

'Why are you running away from me?' he asked.

She lifted her chin. 'I'm not.'

He didn't try to disagree with her, to her relief. But his next words shocked her. 'Rowena. You feel it, too, don't you?'

Oh, yes. She felt it. A weird kind of humming in the air between them. When he'd touched her just now, she'd felt as if her body had been supercharged. 'I don't do this sort of thing.'

'Neither do I.' His voice was wry. 'But something about you makes me want to.'

This was a very, very bad idea. She didn't want to be his friend. Or his lover. Somehow, she had to push him away. And she could think of only one way to do it. 'Don't you have a girl on every trek?'

'No. It's against my principles.'

How could he sound sincere and amused at the same time? She looked at him, and realised he'd meant it. In the starlight, his eyes were very dark and his face very sombre.

And then he smiled. Just a tiny, rueful quirk of his lips. 'But I want to, with you.'

Just as well she was sitting down, because her knees had just turned back to jelly. 'I...' Her mouth was too dry to force the words out.

'Don't worry, I'm not going to leap on you,' he reassured her, clearly misinterpreting her silence. 'I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. But I'd really like someone to hold my hand right now.'

He wanted comfort from her? That was a first. Nobody had ever asked her to hold their hand before, except a patient who was in pain. Part of her was in a flurry, not knowing what to do, how to make him feel better. But she suppressed her thoughts and acted on instinct. She reached out and curled her fingers round his hand, keeping the pressure light.

He responded by curling his own fingers around her hand.

And everything else vanished. There was just the two of them at the edge of the lake, under the stars.

'Is it an anniversary?' she asked softly.

'No. Eighteen months and four days.'

So he was still counting.

'You?' he asked.

'Christmas.'

'There's never a good time to lose someone, but Christmas has to be the worst. Sympathy cards instead of season's greetings.'

Except Rowena hadn't even had those. After all, she wasn't Peggy's relative, merely a friend and colleague. Peggy might have been the nearest Rowena had had to a mother— but Rowena wasn't family. She hadn't been able to intrude where she'd known she hadn't really belonged. So she'd stayed on the sidelines and tried to ignore the huge empty space deep inside her.

'It still hurts. Some days, I wonder if it's ever going to stop hurting,' he said. 'Just when I think I'm doing fine, something triggers a memory and I'm back at the start.'

'Me, too.' Even something as silly as Peggy's favourite dish being the staff canteen's special of the day.

'I've been single for eighteen months. I had all the tests you can think of before I came out here, and I'm clean. I don't do flings. I don't do happy ever after either.'

He could have been speaking for her. Though she'd been single for a lot longer.

'But right now I want you, Rowena. I want to lose myself in you. And maybe I can kiss you better, too.'

'And tomorrow?'

'I don't know,' he said simply. 'I can't think beyond right here, right now.' He raked his free hand through his hair. 'Hell. I'm not even thinking straight. Ignore me. And I'm sorry if I've offended you. I mean, asking you for a one-night stand. How tacky can I get? I didn't—'

She cut him off by leaning over and pressing her mouth to his. Just lightly. It was meant to be a 'stop babbling, it's OK' kind of kiss, but it didn't work out that way. The next thing she knew, her hands were threaded through his hair and his mouth was demanding more from hers.

'It's cold out here,' he whispered when he broke the kiss. 'I'd like to continue this somewhere warmer. Somewhere private.'

'My tent or yours?'

He smiled. 'I hoped you'd say that rather than slapping my face. Though I should warn you that I don't think I can stop at kissing.'

She couldn't either. His hand was resting lightly on her knee, and she was willing it to move higher. 'We're both doctors. We should be sensible.'

He clearly guessed she meant birth control. 'Uh-huh. I could go to the refugio.'

Except that would mean -asking round to find someone who had a stock of condoms. Rowena didn't want the gossip. Or, even worse, the wait. She wanted Luke. Right here, right now. 'I'm on the Pill. But I don't sleep around,' she emphasised. Been there, done that, when she'd been eighteen. Six months of trying to block out the worst of all rejections. She'd learned then that sex couldn't fill the emptiness, so what the hell did she think she was doing now?

The sensible side of her told her she should stop right now. The reckless side stuffed its hand over the sensible side's mouth and cheered her on. So she tipped up her face in offering, and he kissed her again.

He was shaking when she broke the kiss. 'I don't sleep around either.' There was a long, long pause. 'So. Are you saying we,.. ?'

'Uh-huh.' She couldn't resist mimicking him.

'Right now, there's nothing I'd like more,' he informed her, his voice husky, 'than to beat my chest, do a Tarzan yell, haul you over my shoulder and carry you back to my tent.'

The image made her smile. At the same time, it excited her. Luke MacKenzie was a man who could make her lose control. If she let him.

Rowena stood up and held out her hand. 'Let's be civilised about this.'

'I don't feel very civilised.' But he stood up, took her hand, and walked with her back to his tent. Neither of them felt the need to speak.

She crawled into the low tent. He followed seconds later. And then she lost track of everything. She had no idea who'd taken off whose clothes, when or how it happened; she was just aware of a flurry of need, of kisses and endearments, caresses. She thought she might be hyperventilating, and Luke was definitely shuddering with need.

'N-now,' she gasped.

He jammed his mouth over hers and entered her. But it wasn't like it had been when she'd been eighteen, making love with students her own age. Luke was in his thirties, he was all man, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Rowena wasn't prepared for how good this felt, the surge of power in his body as he thrust into her. All she could do was wrap her legs round his waist and cling to him for dear life. She tipped her head back, exhaling sharply, and he kissed his way down her throat, finding sensitive spots she hadn't even known existed.

And then she was falling, shattering into little; pieces—and flying at the same time. She murmured his name, rubbed herself against him like a cat; and. then he went very still, very focused, and she heard him sigh her name against her ear.

'Thank you,' he said softly.

'Mmm.' She didn't think she quite had the power of speech yet.

'You're going to get frostbite. Hang on.' Somehow she found herself inside his sleeping bag. And he was pulling his clothes on.

'Where are you...?' she mumbled.

'That's a single sleeping bag. It's too small for both of us. And I haven't finished yet. Give me two minutes.' She heard him blow a kiss at her and he disappeared out of the tent.

How could he be so coherent when she most definitely wasn't? By the time she'd asked herself just what made him think she was staying in his tent all night, and started to work up some healthy outrage, he'd returned.

With her sleeping bag and a torch.

'You can say no,' he said, clearly reading the expression on her face, 'but I'd like you to have the choice. You can go back to your own tent, no strings. Or you can stay with me— if we zip our bags together, we'll have more room. And more warmth.'

Warmth. She couldn't help smiling. 'We're on the edge of an ice field.'

'It's about four hours' walk away, but that's near enough.' He spread his hands. 'Are you staying or going?'

The sensible thing would be to go. But she hadn't finished either. She wanted to explore him. Tangle her fingers in that glorious hair. 'Staying.'

A slow, brilliant smile spread over his face. 'I'm glad.' His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. 'And, even better, I get to unwrap you.'

'One condition,' she interrupted.

'Name it.'

'You strip for me after that.'

'Deal.' And, as before, he sealed it with a kiss—a kiss that started out as a light, friendly tribute and suddenly tipped into something much, much hotter. She heard a hiss, and then he was crouching in front of her. 'Mmm. The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes.' He gave her a mischievous look. 'I'll be thinking about some other parts of you now.'

She felt herself blush, and he grinned. 'Don't be shy. You're beautiful, Rowena. And the only reason I'm covering you up is because you're going to get cold otherwise.' Deftly, he zipped the two bags together.

'Your turn,' she said softly.

'Um. Can we take a rain check?'

'Welching on the deal?'

'No. But I've got a torch on. And anybody outside who looks over at my tent is going to see exactly what's happening inside.'

If her face had felt hot before, now it was a couple of thousand degrees warmer. Hell. She hadn't even thought about that. 'And without the torch?' Please, don't let anyone have realised what they'd been doing. And they'd both been quiet...hadn't they?

'Without the torch, they'll see nothing.'

Relief surged through her. She reached over and switched off the light. 'I wanted to see you.'

'Tomorrow,' he promised. She heard the rustling of his clothes, and then he crawled into the sleeping bag beside her.

This time, they savoured each other. Stroked every bit of skin, learned where each other liked being touched, where the sensitive spots were. Luke discovered an erogenous zone Rowena hadn't even known existed, in the curve of her elbow. And she got to tangle her fingers in his hair.

'Beautiful hair,' she said. Soft and silky. And it smelt good, too. 'I bet you got into trouble at hospital for this.'

'No. It was shorter eighteen months ago.'

Eighteen months and four days. The memory snapped into her mind. Was that the day his partner had died? And he hadn't cut his hair since. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring back bad memories for you.'

'Hey.' He rubbed his cheek against hers. 'No pasa nada.'

'El Mariachi,' she said, half to herself.

He chuckled. 'I'm no musician.'

'Musician?'

'It's the translation,' he said helpfully. 'But I'll take that as a compliment.'

She nuzzled his skin, liking his scent. 'It was one,' she said softly. The actor was her fantasy man, but Luke MacKenzie was real. And he was here. Holding her.

'Hmm. I like you, Rowena Thompson.'

'I like you, too.'

'Show me how much.'

She grinned, and did so.

The next morning, Rowena opened one eye. Either she'd had a peculiarly vivid dream, or there really was a warm body moulded round hers. An arm clamped round her waist, warm breath against her cheek...

And this wasn't her tent-.

She remembered her night with Luke and her mouth went dry.

'You're awake, then?' The arm round her waist pulled her back against him. 'Good morning.'

She couldn't remember feeling shy like this before. 'Good morning.' She could barely get the words out.

His lips nuzzled the back of her neck. 'Mmm. You feel nice.'

'Um, what time is it?'

'Early. No one else is up yet.'

So she could sneak back into her own tent with nobody the wiser.

As if he guessed what she was thinking, he let her go. 'Regrets?'

She couldn't answer that one. Not truthfully. He'd been a skilful lover, and she couldn't ever remember being that sated before. She just didn't want people gossiping about them.

He turned her to face him. 'We can pretend it didn't happen.'

She couldn't read his expression. She pushed down against her feelings of rejection. What they'd done last night had been completely out of character—for both of them, if he was telling the truth. And she could understand why they'd done it. They'd both been lonely, mourning, desperate to reaffirm life. It was hardly surprising that they'd ended up as they had. 'We could.'

'Or...' He stroked her cheek. 'It felt good, having you in my arms. We could take comfort in each other again, make it a two-night stand.'

'There's nearly a week left.' The words were out before she could stop them.

'Nearly a week.' He traced the outline of her mouth with his forefinger. 'And then the trek will be over.'

She knew what he was asking. What then? 'And then we go back to our normal lives.' Well, she'd go back to normal. Back to the emergency department at the Queen Elizabeth hospital in Manchester. He'd still be out here in the Patagonian winter.

'We say goodbye at the airport. Never meet again.'

'Like Rick and Ilse.'

He grinned, adopting a Bogart drawl. 'We'll always have Pehoe.'

She couldn't help grinning back. Ah, hell. He even thought the same way she did. She could fight this, or she could sink into the comfort of his body. Let him fill the emptiness in these dark, lonely nights. 'A week,' she said softly.

'Deal.' He lowered his mouth to hers. 'And we'll seal it with a kiss.'

CHAPTER FOUR

They were almost late for breakfast. And even though Rowena had persuaded Luke to wait three minutes before following her in, she was sure that people had guessed the situation anyway.

'Hey, sleepyhead. The walk to the glacier yesterday must really have knocked you out,' Carly teased.

'Something like that.' Rowena flushed.

'Here, have some coffee.' Carly poured her a mugful. 'Everyone's talking about you, you know.'

What? The grapevine here was even faster than the one at Lizzy's? Rowena stared at Carly in shock. She knew?

'You really keep your light under a bushel. I had no idea you were a doctor.'

'Oh, that.' So it wasn't common knowledge about Luke and her. Yet. Rowena felt the tension ooze out of her shoulders.

'You didn't tell me you rescued Stephen.'

'That's because I didn't. Luke did.'

Carly scoffed. 'He went into the water, yes—but you did your share afterwards. Melissa told us last night over dinner. She said you were brilliant, explained everything to her. Why didn't you say before that you're a doctor?'

Rowena shifted in her seat. 'I'm here to walk. To raise funds,' she muttered.

'And you don't like the limelight.' Carly nodded. 'OK. I won't go on about it. But I'm still impressed.'

'Tell me that when I get blisters and you have to put the plasters on for me,' Rowena said lightly.

To her relief, Carly didn't start talking about Luke. And Luke himself had joined another group for breakfast, though she was aware of his eyes on her the whole time. They finished breakfast and got their rucksacks ready, then joined the rest of the group. The next section of the trek, through Valle del Frances, began over scrubby moorland. They stopped by Skottsberg Lake—where, according to Luke, the winds in the summer caused waterspouts on the intense blue waters—and then headed upwards through the forest, over wooden steps that helped the weaker members of the group as well as protecting the plants.

It started to rain as they crossed the first suspension bridge over the Frances River, and Rowena glanced down only once, regretting it instantly when she saw how fast the river was flowing. After the second bridge and a brief stop, the rain got harder, and Rowena trudged through the rocky terrain, her hands stuffed in her pockets for extra warmth. Her face was cold, she had the nasty feeling that her jacket had reached its limits of being waterproof, and the rain was getting heavier. Just a few hours ago she'd been warm and dry, wrapped in the sleeping bag with Luke. Well, with Luke wrapped round her, his body taking her higher and higher, and—

'Ow!' She slipped, twisting her ankle.

It hurt, but it had been her own fault. She should have been concentrating on what she'd been doing, not lusting after Luke. Or thinking about the night ahead, when she'd again be curled up in a sleeping bag with him...

'Are you all right?' Carly asked.

'Yep. I'll be fine in a minute.' It wasn't a severe sprain, just a twist. 'I wasn't paying attention.'

'Thinking of it being hot and dry back home?' Carly asked wistfully.

'August heat waves don't last that long. It's probably cold and wet again by now.' Though not quite as cold and wet as it was here. Especially here, in this narrow gorge, with the fast-flowing river thundering beside them.

They climbed up a steep section of rocks past a waterfall and made their way through a dense forest. When they came out at the top of the valley, to Rowena's relief it had stopped raining.

They stopped for lunch at the viewpoint and the bowl of tomatican, a stew of tomatoes, corn and beans, served with wedges of corn bread, was enough to hit the spot and set them up for the rest of the day's walking. But Rowena was drawn away from the others for a while—she just couldn't stop staring at the incredible view.

She'd never seen a mountain panorama before. Not like this. Glaciers and snow-covered peaks to the east; shimmering blue and turquoise lakes to the south; the French river and the forest in the valley below. It was stunning, definitely worth the miserable day's trudge. Her ankle was still slightly sore, but she looked up and forgot all about it when she saw the birds flying overhead, their wings stretched out to get the most from the thermal currents.

'Condors,' Luke whispered in her ear, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She knew she'd remember this moment for the rest of her life—the clear blue sky, the majestic condors soaring above the mountains, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck. 'Later,' he said softly, and moved away.

Later. The word completely destroyed her ability to concentrate, and that afternoon Rowena had a hard time keeping up with Carly's light chatter, let alone watching where she was going. Every so often she could hear the crash of ice falling from the Paine Grande, though the forest was too dense for her to see what was going oil. Marshy wetlands took them to another viewpoint, then a descent to a muddy area leading towards the lake and their base for the night.

Later. She was dimly aware that she was hungry, but she had no idea what she was eating at dinner. All she could taste was Luke's mouth, Luke's skin. She didn't see him at dinner, and by the time she headed for her tent that evening she was a mess of nerves and tension. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe.

And then he crawled into her tent with a bottle and two glasses. 'You left early. Tired?' he asked softly.

No. But seeing him, remembering the night they'd spent together, made her breathless.

'Hey.' He rocked back on his heels. 'If you've changed your mind, I understand, and I won't give you a hard time.'

'No.' The whisper was ripped from her.

'Just...you don't do this sort of thing and you feel out of your depth. Welcome to the club.' He raised an eyebrow. 'I nearly didn't turn up. Just in case I wasn't welcome. And this...' he raised the hand with the wine and glasses '...isn't some sort of bribe. So don't think I'm taking you for granted, will you?'

In answer, she reached out, drew his hand up to heir mouth, and kissed the backs of his fingers.

He shuddered. 'Hell. I meant for us to talk first. Have a glass of wine, get to know each other a bit better. But you've driven everything else out of my mind.' He tucked the Wine and glasses safely to one side, switched off her torch, and shifted to lie with her on top of the sleeping bag. 'I need to touch you.' His voice was thick with desire. Like dark melted chocolate. He moved her so that she was straddling him, and she leaned down to kiss him. In the dark, she couldn't see his eyes, his expression, but the swelling hardness between her thighs told her exactly how he was feeling. Just like she was. Turned on and blown away by the strength of their reaction to each other.

She ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip. He sighed, and his hold on her waist tightened. He shifted his hips and she smiled.

'Impatient?' she murmured against his ear.

'I've been thinking about you ill day.' His voice dropped an octave. 'I saw you leaning over something earlier. Those jeans... And then I remembered exactly what was underneath them. I only just stopped myself doing the cave-man thing.'

'Oh?' She'd never thought she could have that kind of power over a man. Hadn't let one close enough since she'd been a teenager. Maybe, she thought, she should have taken a risk like this sooner.

Or maybe it only worked with a man like Luke.

He tugged at her long-sleeved T-shirt, freeing the hem from the waistband of her jeans, then he slid his hand under the fabric, placing his palms flat against her stomach. 'You feel good.'

So did he.

He pushed his hands upwards, cupping her breasts through her sensible, very unsexy bra. 'Better,' he murmured huskily. Then, before she realised his intentions, he'd slipped one hand behind her back to undo her bra. 'Better still,' he said, replacing their support with his hands. His thumbs brushed against her already hardened nipples, and she shivered.

'Yes,' he said, and lifted his upper body so he could take one nipple into his mouth. She tipped her head back and groaned.

She'd trudged through mud. All day. Every muscle ached. She needed some sleep. But she needed this much, much more. While he was still touching her, sucking her, she pulled her T-shirt and bra off.

'I want to do this in the light,' he murmured against her skin.

She froze. And give a shadow-show to the whole camp? Not likely!

'Santiago,' he said. 'Our last night. You, me, a good hotel. A bed with proper sheets. A hot, hot shower. And I'm going to soap every centimetre of you. Touch you. Kiss you all over.'

Longing shuddered through her. 'Yes.'

He unsnapped the button of her jeans, lowered the zip. 'We're going to make love with the light on.'

Her mouth went dry. 'Yes.'

He slid his hand into her jeans, and his fingers nudged her knickers aside. She exhaled sharply as one finger found the exact spot she wanted to be touched, and began to rub. She leaned back, gripping his thighs for support. 'Yes.'

'And I'm going to watch your face, see your eyes when you come,' he murmured.

Sensation burst through her and she had to clench her teeth together, biting back a moan of pleasure.

This was crazy. They were in a tent, for goodness' sake. It was cold, cramped and pitch black. It was raining again, too— she could hear the raindrops thudding against the canvas.

And she wouldn't have swapped this moment for the world.

Little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her as he gently lifted her off him. He rubbed his face against hers, kissed the tip of her nose. 'I've been wanting to do that all day.'

'Me, too.' She couldn't help confessing it.

'The night is young.' He kissed her hard. 'Let me sort this sleeping bag. And we'll take it slower this time.'

This time it would be her turn to explore. By touch, by taste, breathing in his clean male scent. She smiled as she heard the whoosh of the zip. In Santiago, the last sense would click into place.

Sight.

And it was going to be mind-blowing.

* * *

As the week wore on, Rowena grew more relaxed in Luke's company, even chatted to him on the occasions when he walked next to her. She didn't allow herself to think about the last day, the day when they'd agreed to say goodbye to each other in Santiago and which would be their last contact. She was living for right here, right now.

And it felt good.

The days were spent pushing her body to the limit, walking the unfamiliar terrain. The nights were spent in Luke's arms, in their own private paradise. Just the two of them, in his tent or hers. Skin to skin. Neither of them was getting enough sleep. And neither of them cared.

Then, on the sixth day of the trek, she noticed one of the walkers just ahead of her. He was rubbing his chest and stumbling. Adrenalin prickled at the back of her neck. Malcolm looked as if he was in trouble. She glanced around, but couldn't see Luke.

Well, she was a doctor. Malcolm looked as if he was having chest pains. Which meant that she was duty-bound to help. She lengthened her stride and caught up with him.

'Malcolm, are you OK?' she asked.

He gave her a weak smile. 'Just a bit of an ache. I'll be fine.'

Her eyes narrowed. He seemed a bit breathless, and he looked sweaty. She had a feeling it was caused by something other than the exertion of walking, and his face was white with strain. 'Take five minutes for a rest,' she said, guiding him over to a rock and helping him sit down. Marjorie, the woman he'd been walking with, stayed as well. 'What's happening?' she asked.

'I think Malcolm's feeling rough. Where does it hurt?' Rowena asked him softly.

'Middle of my chest.' He clenched a fist and held it over the middle of his chest—another sign Rowena noted on her mental checklist. Not good. 'I've had it on and off for a while—probably that pastry I had for breakfast.' He tried to smile. 'I like pastry, but it doesn't always like me.'

Chest pain could be caused by heartburn, certainly. It could also be caused by a pulled or strained muscle, inflamed joints between the breastbone and ribs, an ulcer or even asthma. But Malcolm worried her. He was overweight, in his fifties, and she had a feeling that he usually didn't do much exercise.

Which made him a prime candidate for a heart attack.

'What sort of pain?' she asked.

'Squeezing.' He rubbed his left shoulder, and alarm bells rang even harder in Rowena's mind.

'Does it hurt anywhere else?' she asked softly, trying not to ask a leading question but needing the answer.

'My shoulder. I probably pulled & muscle when I put my rucksack on.'

Or not. Pain radiating down the arm, shoulder or jaw was a classic symptom of a heart attack. 'Have you ever had angina?' she asked.

'Angina? No. I haven't seen a doctor in years.'

So he didn't have any GTN spray—glycerine trinitrate, which helped to stop chest pain in cases of angina. 'Marjorie, can you do me a favour, please?' she asked.

'Of course.' Marjorie gave her a worried look.

'Can you find Luke and ask him to join us?'

Marjorie nodded. 'Any message?'

'Ask him if he's got some GTN with him, or an aspirin.' That would be enough to tell Luke what she suspected. Angina, at the least—a narrowing of the arteries in the heart, which caused pain when the patient did anything physical— or a full-blown heart attack at the worst.

'Will do.' Marjorie sped off, and Rowena crouched down beside Malcolm. 'I'm a qualified doctor,' she said softly. 'And I think you're in a fair bit of pain at the moment. I'm going to try and make you feel a bit more comfortable.'

'Can I have a drink? I feel a bit sick,' he said.

'Let's take a rain-check on the drink for now, until Luke gets here,' she said. Worse and worse. Nauseous, sweaty, pain radiating from the chest down the arm... It was sounding more and more like a classic symptom list. 'Right, I'll try and help you feel a bit more comfortable. Can you lean back a bit towards the rock behind you?' She took her backpack off. 'And I'll put this under your knees to help support you a bit.' She loosened the neck of his jacket. 'How long have you had the pain?'

'It's been on and off all morning. This is sharper, though,' he admitted. 'It's been ten, fifteen minutes.'

It Could still be heartburn. But if it lasted for thirty minutes—particularly now he was sitting down and resting— it was more likely to be a heart attack. 'OK.' She squeezed his hand. 'Everything's going to be fine.' As long as he stayed calm. And as long as Luke had the right kind of drugs with him. An electrocardiogram was out of the question; they wouldn't be able to hook Malcolm up to a monitor to get the trace of his heartbeat and see what was going on. Oxygen might be a problem, too. But Luke would at least have an aspirin—and hopefully some GTN. And he'd be able to radio for medical back-up.

'Tell me, Malcolm, do you smoke?'

'Used to. Gave it up last year.'

He was still breathless, which worried her. 'Anyone in your family ever have a heart problem?'

'No. Fit as fiddles.'

'What do you do, back in your ordinary life?'

'Sales manager.'

Stressful job, then. She'd bet he had high blood pressure. And if his job meant eating out a lot, or eating on the run, his diet was probably hopeless and his cholesterol levels high.

Right now, her priority was to keep him warm and calm.

'Are you warm enough?' she asked. The wind had got up again, and the rocks weren't much protection. But it was all they had.

'I'm all right.'

In other words, hp was cold but didn't want to make a fuss. She knew his type. George, her consultant on the ward, was another. 'Here.' She took off her coat and wrapped it round him. 'And before you say it, I've still got plenty of layers. I'm fine.'

'Bossy, too,' he grumbled.

'I have to be, in my job.'

And then, at last, Luke was there with his medical kit.

'Where's Marjorie?' Malcolm asked.

'She wanted to come back with me, but I thought it would be better for her to stay with the group. Though if you want me to send Rowena after them, bring your wife back, I will?'

'No, no. She's just a friend. I'm divorced. I didn't know her before we came out here,' Malcolm explained.

'Then it's unlikely the authorities would let her come to the hospital with you,' Luke said.

'Right.' Malcolm closed his eyes again and rested back against the rock.

Rowena quietly ran through Malcolm's symptoms.

Luke looked grim. 'I guessed as much from your message. It might be angina, but we can't take the risk. He needs to be checked out in hospital.'

There weren't any roads around them. And there wasn't anywhere that a helicopter could land. As if he read her mind, he said softly, 'It's another three hours to the next camp. No way can we wait here for six to eight hours—' the usual length of time they'd make someone rest after a heart attack before moving off under their own steam '—then make him walk that far. We need a helicopter with a stretcher lift.' He handed his kit to Rowena. 'There's some aspirin in here— it's the best we have right now.' The aspirin would help Malcolm's blood fight the clot blocking his heart. 'If you could give it to him, I'll radio in.'

She found the aspirin: 'Malcolm, I've had a word with Luke and he agrees with me that I should give you some aspirin. I need you to chew it, and that's going to help you.' Chewing helped make the anti blood-clotting action of the drug work faster. 'We're going to get you to hospital by helicopter.'

'I'm all right. I just need a rest.'

'You've probably had a heart attack,' she said gently. 'That's where the blood supply to your heart has been interrupted, and it's interfered with the way your heart pumps blood. We don't have the facilities to give you the help you need.'

'But I can't go to hospital. What about the rest of the trek, and my sponsorship money?'

'We'll sort it out somehow,' she promised, squeezing his hand. 'But right now our priority is you.'

Luke was speaking on the radio in rapid Spanish, and when he'd finished, he came straight over to them. 'How are you feeling?' he asked Malcolm.

'OK.'

'He's being brave.' Rowena smiled at him.

'I need you to be honest,' Luke said.

Malcolm nodded. 'OK. I don't feel quite myself.'

She'd heard that one before, and the memories came shooting back. Hard and hurtful. I don't feel quite myself today. The next day, Peggy had been dead.

'Isn't that right, Rowena?' Luke asked.

Then she realised he was talking to her. Hell. She was meant to be helping, not falling back into her own misery. 'Sorry. Miles away,' she apologised.

'A helicopter's coming out here to take Malcolm to hospital. Have you worked with a helicopter before?'

'No.' Air rescue was the one thing she hadn't done. She'd always worked in a city centre hospital.

'OK. The danger areas are the tail rotor, below the main rotor—because the blades dip as they slow down—or anywhere where the pilot can't see you.' Luke ticked them off on his fingers. 'There will be a lot, of noise and wind, and the downdraught from the chopper may blow things around with a lot of force.' He smiled at Malcolm. 'You get the easy bit, mate—they can't actually land here, so they'll winch down a horizontal stretcher lift for you. We'll strap you in, and you'll be fine.'

'I don't speak Spanish,' Malcolm said. 'Not enough to get by.'

'Which is why I'll be going with you,' Luke said. 'I'll act as your interpreter and help you settle into the hospital.'

'But you're the trek's medical officer. They need you here,' Malcolm protested, looking anxious.

Luke looked at Rowena. She knew what he was asking, and sighed inwardly. What choice did she have? 'I'll take over as medical officer until you get back. I don't speak Spanish, but the rest of the guides speak English well enough for us not to have any communication problems. If you can get someone to liaise with the authorities out here, I can give you the phone numbers to get the references you need.'

'You're a star.' He smiled at her. 'Thank you. I know it's not what you, wanted...but otherwise they'll have to find someone else who can get here at short notice, and that's not always easy.'

She hardly took in what he was saying. All she could think about was that he was going. The chances were, he'd have to stay with Malcolm. There were only two days left of the trek, and he wouldn't be able to come back. So they wouldn't have Santiago.

And she was a selfish bitch, putting her own pleasure before the well-being of a patient.

'I'll keep in touch with the trek from the hospital,' Luke added.

So he definitely wasn't coming back. Rowena swallowed her disappointment.

'What about Rowena? Shouldn't she catch up with the others now, before they get too far ahead?' Malcolm asked. 'I don't want her to get lost or anything.'

'I'm staying right here until you're on the helicopter,' Rowena said.

'I'm just about to radio Chico—one of the guides—to put him in the picture and ask him to come back to stay with us,' Luke added. 'Don't worry, we're not going to take any risks with either of you.'

'I feel such a fool.'

'Hey, you didn't know this was going to happen. Nobody could have predicted it,' Luke said gently. 'The important thing is that you don't worry. Everything's going to be fine.' He grinned. 'I'll teach you some Spanish. The important one's no pasanada—that means "no worries".'

Almost the first thing he'd said to her. He clearly remembered, too, because his eyes crinkled at the corners.

'Rowena'll tell you.'

'No pasa nada,' she said with a smile.

Luke radioed Chico and they had a quick conversation in Spanish. 'Chico's going to come back,' he said. 'It's going to be a good half-hour until he gets here.'

Half an hour. And who knew how long the helicopter would take? The quicker they could get some clot-busting drugs into Malcolm's system, the better his chances were. Not that she was going to worry him by telling him that. Instead, Rowena chatted lightly to him, taking his mind off the pain and even managing to make him laugh at one point.

About ten minutes after Chico arrived at the rocks where they were waiting, the helicopter turned up.

Noisy and windy wasn't the half of it, Rowena thought.

But she helped Luke strap Malcolm into the stretcher, and watched as it was winched up into the helicopter.

Another steel cable was lowered, this time without the stretcher. 'Lucky me, I get the teensy little harness.' He kept his voice light.

'So this is goodbye, then.'

'Mmm.'

'Well.' She swallowed hard, willing the disappointment to stay down. She'd known this moment was going to happen. It had just arrived a bit sooner than they'd planned, that was all. 'Adios.'

He leaned forward and kissed her. 'Hasta manana.'

She knew what that meant from an old pop song. But they weren't going to meet again. This really was goodbye. 'Good luck,' she said, and picked up his doctor's bag. 'I'll look after everyone for you.'

He strapped himself in, waved in salute, and he was winched up.

Rowena turned to Chico and forced a smile to her face. 'I guess we'd better join the others.' Though the emptiness was back. In spades.

CHAPTER FIVE

Luke didn't return. He sent messages via the other guides, so Rowena knew that Malcolm had had a heart attack and would need a six-day stay in hospital, followed by another four to eight days resting before airline regulations would allow him to fly back to the UK, escorted by a doctor. Malcolm was doing fine, but it was obvious that the charity didn't have the money to fly Luke back to the group of walkers. There was no real need for him to return either when Rowena's references were exemplary and she could take his place so easily. Who better to act as a doctor out here than someone with years of experience in the emergency department?

But she missed him. They hadn't had a chance to say a proper goodbye, the goodbye they'd planned for Santiago. And somehow the beautiful scenery didn't seem the same without him being around to point out wildlife or explain what she was seeing.

The nights were definitely colder.

She'd kept herself busy during the day by taking over Luke's routine of walking with different groups every half-hour to check nobody was in difficulty or needed medical help. The most she had to deal with were some blisters and a couple of cuts. Night time was more difficult. She had too much time to think. To regret. She decided that tomorrow night she would swap her tent for a bed in the refugio—at least there would be no memories to torment her in the hostel. Memories of Luke's body warming hers in the tent, his clever hands and mouth taking her to the peak. Filling the deep loneliness inside her.

Ah, hell. She was supposed to be over this. She should let it go.

* * *

The next day started with a wooden footbridge over a stream, followed by more crossings over ravines and rivers—crossings that had been made decidedly tougher after the previous night's rainfall. Somehow they made it through to the camp without problems. More soup, hot tea and stew. And then it was the last day, a taxing ascent over stony ground followed by more river crossings, a trail going through forests and across tiny streams, and a tough ascent along a glacial moraine. And then, at last, they were at the base of the Torres, in sight of the glacial lagoon.

It was a moment Rowena had hoped to share with Luke.

But he was in the past. No going back. No ties. They'd agreed it all. And she'd done what she'd set out to do, a hundred-kilometre trek through Patagonia to raise money. She'd done it well. Raised an incredible amount of money.

So why did she feel so flat?

Everyone else was cheering, encouraging each other to walk those last few metres to the finish. Everyone else was jubilant that they'd made it, that they'd taken time out of their everyday lives to do a tough walk through a huge range of terrains. They were tired, they were aching—and so proud of their achievements that it really didn't matter.

But Rowena didn't feel part of the group. She was on her own. Just like she'd always been. Like she always would be.

She gritted her teeth. Why? Why couldn't she go back to the way she used to be? She'd been doing fine. She missed Peggy, yes, but she'd been coping. For all of her life, she'd been without Luke—they'd been together for less than a week. So why did she miss him so much? Why did she feel she was half-empty? Why couldn't she get back in control?

The flat, empty feeling continued through their transfers back to Santiago. When the group went out to celebrate— with a meal that, unlike those they'd eaten in the past week, definitely wasn't based on stew!—Rowena ended up leaving early, claiming that she had a bit of a headache. Parties really weren't her thing, anyway. And she was sick of glancing round the group, wondering if by some chance Luke knew of the party and had planned to join them.

Obviously he didn't. Or maybe he just didn't want to be there. And she definitely didn't want to spend any more time thinking about him. No, what she really needed now was some sleep. And then she was going back to Manchester. Back to work. Back to the place where she knew she fitted in. Dr Rowena Thompson of the emergency department.

Luke knew he was taking a risk. A hell of a risk. They'd said goodbye in the middle of the national park, just before he'd been winched into the helicopter. They'd made no promises, no commitments. For all he knew, Rowena might have found someone else to heal the deep ache he'd sensed inside her, and this would seriously cramp her style.

And yet... Somehow, he thought not. She'd fought her attraction to him at the start. His gut instinct told him she was a woman who coped on her own, didn't have space for anyone in her life.

Maybe she'd be pleased to see him.

Maybe she wouldn't.

But there was only one way to find out.

When he walked into the hotel reception, he smiled. Just as he'd hoped, Isabela was on duty. The trek organisers always used this hotel, so he'd got to know some of the staff over the last year. Particularly Isabela, since he'd rescued her three-year-old daughter six months before. The hotel staff weren't supposed to bring their children to work, but Isabela's childminder had been ill. Elena had been sitting under the desk and had been stung by a bee. She'd reacted badly to the sting, had gone into anaphylactic shock, and Luke had just happened to be in the hotel at the right time. He'd given her adrenalin and resuscitated her, then got her straight to hospital. Since then Elena had drawn him countless pictures and Isabela always made sure he had decent coffee whenever he was at the hotel.

'Hola,' he said with a smile.

'My favourite doctor. What are you doing here? I thought your group was having the usual last-night party?'

'It is.' He explained in rapid Spanish just why he needed the pass key for a room he hadn't booked.

'I could lose my job for this,' she warned.

'I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important,' Luke said quietly. 'And I'll make sure there are no repercussions.'

As the frown on her face melted into understanding, even a smile, the deep knot of tension in his stomach started to unravel. 'Amor. Love. How can I stand in its way?' Isabela asked with a smile, and handed over the pass key.

Rowena opened the door to her hotel room and hung her handbag on the back of the door.

Then she remembered that she hadn't left the light on before she'd gone out.

She frowned. This wasn't an expensive hotel, not the kind of place that had a butler service or automatic dusk-to-dawn lighting.

And there was a red rose lying on her pillow. That definitely hadn't been there when she'd left.

What the...?

And then Luke walked out of the bathroom. Black jeans, black fleece, clean-shaven...and sexy as hell. 'Hello, Rowena.'

She opened her mouth to speak, to demand just what he thought he was playing at, but nothing came out.

He smiled, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. She resisted for about three seconds, and then she kissed him back. Hungrily. Being with him again now made her realise just how much she'd missed him. How much she'd missed the feel of his body against hers, the touch of his mouth, his hard, muscular limbs between hers.

He broke the kiss, trailed his mouth up to her ear, and whispered, 'I've missed you.'

'This wasn't supposed to happen,' she croaked. 'We said goodbye.'

'I said manana,' he reminded her. 'And we made plans for Santiago. One night in a proper bed, with a light. This is our goodbye.'

It worked for her. Heavens, how it worked. Lust thrummed through her. She wanted him. Now.

He'd pulled the curtains. There was nobody to see them. Nobody to interrupt. But... 'How did you get in?'

'I charmed the reception clerk.'

Heat flooded her cheeks. 'You told her...?'

He rubbed his nose against hers. 'Enough.'

Which left Rowena none the wiser. But then he was kissing her again, and it didn't matter any more. Her fleece hit the floor. Followed swiftly by his. Her T-shirt. His. Her jeans. His.

'In another world,' he said softly, 'I'd buy you lace. Slate blue, to match your eyes.' He traced the edge of her serviceable sports bra with the tip of his index finger. 'Something to contrast with the ivory of your skin.' One snap, and her bra was off. His breath hissed out of him as he saw her breasts properly for the first time. 'I dreamed you'd look like this. The way you felt. Your skin, so soft. I knew you'd be like this.' He dropped to his knees, nuzzled her midriff.

'And here. Soft. Womanly.'

Did he mean fat? She stiffened.

'Beautiful. Proper curves. A real woman.' He outlined her navel with the tip of his tongue.

'And here. Perfect. You look fabulous in jeans.' He stroked her buttocks. 'And even better without. Hell, you're so beautiful you turn my legs to jelly and my brain to soup.' His hand moved again, this time cupping between her thighs. His fingers were so near, yet so far. She wanted him. Needed him to fill her. To stop the ache. She flexed her muscles against him, unable to help herself, and he smiled against her inner thigh.

'Ah, Rowena. I feel like a kid in a sweetshop. I want it all. And I want it now.'

One swift movement and her knickers were off. Her boots and socks were gone, too: when had he done that? She couldn't remember. Couldn't think. There was a slow-burning fire deep inside that was sweeping everything else out of its way.

'I want to touch you,' he murmured. 'Taste you. See your eyes when I take you over the edge. Hear the noises you make—there's no one to hear us now, no one we have to be quiet for.'

The breath hissed out of her. 'We'll go out with a blaze of glory.'

'Oh, yes.' His voice sounded equally husky. Sinfully sexy. In another moment he was on his feet. Naked. He picked her up. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the softness of pure cotton sheets against her back—and then she heard a click. A swoosh. And warm water streamed over them.

She opened her eyes, and he grinned. 'Humour me. I wanted to make love with you in a waterfall. This is the next best thing.'

Her shower.

Wet, bare skin.

Just what she'd thought about, the first time they'd made love.

He soaped every inch of her. Rinsed it off again. Followed up with his hands, his mouth, until she was shivering with desire, craving more. Then he lifted her again, balancing her against the wall of the shower, and thrust into her.

'Yes,' she hissed, and wrapped her legs around her waist. She didn't care that the tiles were cold against her back. She didn't care that her hair was wet and in her eyes. All she could think about was Luke, the way he moved inside her.

'I've wanted this for so long.' His voice was slightly slurred, and his pupils were huge and dark. His wet hair was plastered back from his face, his mouth was lush and inviting, and Rowena had never seen anything so desirable in her entire life.

She fisted her hands in his hair, leaned forward and kissed him, hard. Took from him, the way he was taking from her. Gave herself up to the pleasure that was building. Everywhere he touched her, she sizzled. Everywhere she touched him, she sizzled. The tiny hotel bathroom was filling rapidly with steam, and she couldn't get enough of him. Wanted more. More.

She buried her face in his shoulder and cried out as she hit the peak.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently urged her head back against the tiled wall. 'I want to see you. Look at me.'

She did.

'I want to see your eyes when you come.'

But I already have, she was about to say when a second wave hit her. Like a tsunami. If he hadn't been holding her up, she would have fallen; her whole body was one pure pulse of pleasure. 'Luke,' she whispered. 'Luke.' Her eyes were open, but she couldn't focus, couldn't see. All she could do was give herself up to the incredible pleasure washing through her.

The next thing she knew, she was lying on the bed, wrapped in a towel. She had no memory of him carrying her from the shower, no memory of him wrapping her so tenderly. He was sitting next to her, a towel loosely wrapped round his waist, his fingers gently stroking her face.

'You OK?' he asked.

'Um. This is Earth?'

He grinned. 'I'm flattered.'

'I'm flattened,' she fenced.

'Yeah. It wasn't bad.'

She stared at him in disbelief. 'Not bad?'

'I haven't finished yet.'

'Did I faint?'

'No. You were just...' he flashed her a grin '...a bit incoherent for a while.'

She sat up, about to tell him that she'd missed him. Then she remembered. Out with a blaze. This was goodbye. Not the time to tell him that she'd yearned for him. Because, after tonight, she couldn't have him.

She switched to a safe topic. 'How's Malcolm?'

Rowena was amazing. One minute she was shuddering with pleasure in his arms, the next she was alert enough to think of the man who'd had a heart attack, showing a true doctor's concern for her patient.

No, scratch amazing. She was like no woman he'd ever met.

But tonight they would say goodbye. He had nothing to offer her. Nothing to keep her by his side. What was the point in breaking his rule, if it would break what was left of his heart? 'He's doing well. The hospital's letting him out in a couple of days. I spoke to the medical assistance company, and they've arranged a flight and a doctor to accompany him home.'

She didn't need to know that he was that doctor.

'That's good.'

He almost told her that he'd missed her. That he'd spent every second in Santiago longing for her. The shy smile, the quick murmur of her voice as she responded. The feel of her skin next to his.

But tonight was their goodbye. Out with a blaze, as she'd put it. She'd go home to her real life and forget him.

'Luke.'

'What?'

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. 'Your hair's going to tangle if you don't comb it.'

He shrugged. 'No matter.'

'Let me?'

He was going to refuse, when she climbed off the bed and dropped the towel. And whatever he'd been about to say vanished in a surge of lust.

It must have shown on his face because she grinned and sashayed to her bathroom. He watched her bottom wiggling, mesmerised. For two pins, he'd follow her and grab her and...

She reappeared with the comb, knelt behind him.

'What is it with my hair?' His voice sounded rusty. Hell, it felt rusty. All the blood in his body appeared to have drained to one point.

'It's exotic. Sexy.' Slowly, she pulled the comb through his hair. Played with the ends. 'Don't cut it.'

If he'd been staying in Chile, he might have left it. But he was stepping into another role. One that most definitely didn't go with his hair. His fleece and his jeans wouldn't fit in either. Hospital trusts preferred their consultants—even if they were locums—in Savile Row suits, not hippy-dippy.

But tonight he wasn't a consultant. He wasn't a buttoned-up English doctor. He was a man who'd watched condors fly, who'd climbed glaciers, who'd swum through waterfalls. He was a man who was about to make love with the most desirable woman he'd ever met.

He caught her hand on the last sweep of the comb. Wordlessly, he removed it. Turned to her. The rose. 'Yes?'

He let a slow smile spread over his mouth. 'I had plans for it.'

She frowned. 'Plans?'

'Mmm-hmm.' He reached over and took it from where it still lay in the centre of one pillow. 'I took the thorns off myself. Just to be sure.'

There was still a slight frown on her forehead, as if she didn't follow his train of thought. He bent to kiss it away, then trailed the rosebud between her breasts. 'Like the shower. Something I thought of when I first saw you. A pure English rose.' He drew the rose along the curve of her breasts. Her eyes widened, and he smiled again. 'Rowena. I want to make love with you.' The rose traced her collarbone, dipping into the hollows. Brushed lightly over her throat. Teased her full lower lip.

He'd never met a woman who turned him on so much. And when she tipped her head back, signalling consent, he stroked the rose down the arch of her throat, down and down and down, until she parted her thighs for him.

'Rowena,' he breathed.

And he fell.

The following morning Luke heard ringing. Loud ringing. Telephone? Wrong number. Had to be, at this hour. Time to sleep. Eyes still closed, he groped on the bedside table, picked up the receiver and replaced it.

Silence.

Mmm. Better. Much better.

And he was warm. Aching, but toasty warm. With an equally warm body curled around his.

His eyes snapped open. A body curled around his?

And this wasn't his room. Wasn't the tiny apartment he'd rented just over a year ago. No, he was in Rowena's hotel room—Rowena's bed—and their limbs were about as tangled together as possible. They were as close as they could get, without him being inside her.

This wasn't supposed to have happened. The basic idea was that they'd have crazy sex until they were both completely sated, share a goodbye kiss and say adios. For good. Keep it simple.

Instead, he'd let himself fall under her spell. He'd been unable to drag himself away from her for a single second. He'd made love to her with the rosebud. Followed it up with his mouth. Collapsed in a heap when she'd returned the favour with her own mouth. And they'd spent the rest of the night curled together, alternately dozing and sating their bodies again and again.

No wonder he ached. He hadn't done that in years.

Actually, he couldn't remember doing it ever. Not like this. And that scared him.

Why had her phone been ringing anyway?

His brain clicked back into action. Of course. She was going back to England today. And if she didn't get up in time, she'd miss her connection to the airport, miss her flight...

If he'd been staying in Chile, he might have been tempted to make her miss her flight. Maybe even ask her to stay with him, share the wilds of Patagonia with him.

But he wasn't. And she had a life. A life he wasn't part of. He couldn't expect her to just make room for him in her life in England. He could ask...but there were no guarantees that she'd say yes. They'd agreed the terms of their affair up front: it ended in Santiago.

Which meant now.

He didn't want it to end. But what choice did they have? She had her own life to lead.

'Rowena.' He nuzzled her cheek. 'Rowena.'

'Mmm.' She stirred sleepily, drew her hand down his side. Cupped his buttocks.

If he didn't stop her, right now, his self-control was going to snap. He removed her hand. 'Rowena.' This time he shook her shoulder. Making very, very sure that he didn't look at where the sheets had slipped down, where her beautiful breasts were visible, 'You've got a plane to catch.'

'Plane?' Then she sat bolt upright. 'Plane! Oh, my God. What's the time?' She grabbed her watch. 'I have to pack. I meant to pack last night.' She climbed out of bed and groaned. 'Hell. I forgot. I...'

'Hey.' He gave in to temptation—just for a second—and kissed her. 'You shower. I'll pack your stuff.'

'But—'

'Shower.' If she didn't go into the bathroom now, she wouldn't be going there for a very long time. For long enough to miss her flight. So she'd be forced to stay with him.

No. That wasn't fair. It wasn't what she wanted. He suppressed the surge of wanting. 'I'll pack for you,' he said again.

It didn't take him long to drag his clothes on. He found some clean clothes for her, dropped them just inside the bathroom door and packed everything else he could see. By the time she was out of the shower, dressed and teeth cleaned, he was able to present her with a neatly packed bag.

'Thank you.'

'Pleasure.' He sucked in a breath. 'So you're going back to England.'

'And you're staying here in Chile.'

Actually, no, he was moving on. Even before he'd met Rowena, he'd realised it was time for a change. Time to make some kind of sense of his life. But even though they would both be in England, the odds were that they'd be living at different ends of the country. He'd never asked Rowena where she lived, where she worked. And it was better this way. A clean break. If he knew anything more about her, he'd be tempted to find her back in England. Tempted to ask her to let him into his life.

She might say no.

And he really, really didn't want to risk that. To feel even more lost, more miserable, than he did now. Guessing they had no future was better than knowing for definite that they had no future.

So he didn't correct her assertion. He simply said, 'Then this is it. Goodbye.'

Goodbye. The word shocked Rowena to the core. Then she realised that, despite what they'd agreed at the start, she hadn't really expected this to happen. That it really was going to end.

Luke was rejecting her. Just like –

She shook herself. Of course he wasn't rejecting her. He just happened to live and work in Chile. Seven thousand or so miles away from her. Saying goodbye was the sensible thing to do. She suppressed the hurt that he hadn't asked her to stay. Even if she did, if she found a job in the hospital at Santiago, they still wouldn't have much time together. Not when he was on a trek in the middle of nowhere, contactable only by radio. Which would leave her where exactly? In a country she didn't know, surrounded by people whose language she didn't speak, doing a job where she didn't fit in with the rest of the team. Snatching two days a fortnight with her man. Two days, followed by twelve days of loneliness.

What kind of life was that? Certainly not the sort she wanted. So this was the end.

'Goodbye,' she said, suddenly feeling awkward. Wanting this to be over. Before she had the chance to do something embarrassing—like beg him to let her stay with him. Two days a fortnight was better than a whole life without him.

She shook herself How could she be so stupid? She'd sworn that she'd never, ever depend on someone else for her happiness. She wasn't going to change that now.

'You'd, um, better get some breakfast, join the rest of the group,' he said.

She noticed that hp wouldn't meet her gaze, and he had that trapped, I-want-to-be-a-thousand-miles-away-from-here look on his face. 'Yes.'

So he obviously wasn't intending to drive her to the airport. Wasn't going to snatch these last precious seconds together. Well, there was no point in prolonging it. Or thinking about the might-have-beens. Was there?

'Goodbye,' he said softly, dropped a light kiss on her forehead, and walked out of her room. Out of her life. For ever.

CHAPTER SIX

England was hot, unusually humid, and very, very sunny.

It had been raining when Rowena left Chile. Twenty-five degrees cooler than this. Coming home should feel like a holiday in comparison. So why did it feel as if the light had been switched off?

'Stop brooding. You agreed to have a fling. A fling with a time limit. He's seven thousand miles away—half the time he isn't even near a phone. The only way you can get hold of him is by radio. He's in a different time zone, a different continent, a different life. It'd never work. There's long distance, and there's...well, the middle of Patagonia. You didn't give him your number. He won't expect you to stay in touch. It's so not going to happen,' she told herself as she slammed her car door.

A quick call on her mobile phone reassured her that her dog was fine and, yes, she could pick him up outside normal kennel hours.

Well, Cathy was her friend. The one who'd introduced her to Ben in the first place. The one who understood that Ben was the most important thing in her life.

Not that she'd thought of him much in Chile. She'd been... otherwise occupied.

'Forget it. It's over,' she warned herself, and drove back to Manchester with her stereo turned up loud. She stopped at the supermarket to collect the basics—bread, cheese, eggs, milk, salad and some chicken fillets for her best friend—then headed straight for an ecstatic reunion.

'You missed me, then?' she asked the spaniel, kneeling down so he could put his paws on her shoulders and lick her face.

'He pined for the first day or so. Wouldn't let Rick anywhere near him,' Cathy added, 'but he was fine with me.'

They both knew why Ben didn't like men. And they'd agreed that if either of them ever came across the man responsible for hurting him, he'd be cat food—Hippocratic oath or no Hippocratic oath.

'Come on, you. Dinner and a run, I think.' Rowena finished fussing her dog, and he trotted happily beside her to the kennel gate, nudging her knee with his nose every so often just to reassure himself that she really was back.

'Aren't you jet-lagged or something?' Cathy asked.

'Nope. Well, yes,' Rowena admitted. 'I need to get my body clock back into English time again. I'm off for another few days, so that should be enough.'

'At least you're being sensible,' Cathy said dryly.

'I'm always sensible,' Rowena lied. She hadn't been sensible in Chile. 'Thanks for looking after Ben for me.'

'Pleasure. He's my success story, aren't you, Benjy-boy?' Cathy rubbed the dog's ears. 'Don't overdo it, Ro. You shouldn't really have driven back from London today.'

Cathy, despite being three years younger than Rowena, was a real mother hen. But Rowena didn't have a mother. Never had, never would. She shrugged. 'I'm fine. See you.'

She drove home, fed Ben the chicken, and decided she really didn't feel like cooking herself an omelette. She poured herself a bowl of cereal instead, and even that she shared with Ben. 'I need some sleep. Give me a couple of hours, and we'll have our run,' she promised the dog. She closed her bedroom curtains, stripped, and was asleep within seconds of crawling into bed—such a deep sleep that she didn't notice when Ben managed to open the kitchen door and sneak upstairs to lie in the crook of her knees.

* * *

By the time Rowena was due back at work, Ben was over his clingy patch and she was doing a great job suppressing thoughts of Luke MacKenzie.

She'd taken one picture of him. Just one. Mountains in the background, a half-smile on his face, those little crinkles at the corner of his eyes. That sensual mouth, promising later. Dark, dark eyes that hinted at the passion within.

And it had been over.

She quickly removed it from the batch of photographs— no way did she want anyone at work asking who the sex god was—and tucked it away at the back of a drawer where she wouldn't be tempted to look at it and brood. Then she took a deep breath. 'You're Dr Rowena Thompson of the emergency department. Back where you belong. End of story,' she told herself.

'Hey, Ro! You're back!' Diane, the charge nurse—once Peggy's second in command—gave her a hug the second Rowena walked onto the ward. 'So how'd it, go? You didn't even send us a card!'

'May I point out,' Rowena said with a grin, 'that there aren't any postboxes in the middle of a glacier?'

'Then you'd better have photos. Lots of photos.'

'I have. I'm going to be so-o-o boring,' Rowena retorted. 'I've got a set to leave on the ward for anyone who wants to see them.'

'And I bet they're all neatly labelled,' Diane teased.

Rowena grinned back. 'Of course. In my best doctor's handwriting.'

'Good. I'll get a pizza night sorted. Tonight,' Diane decided.

'No. I'm jet-lagged,' Rowena lied. She really wasn't in the mood for a night out, but she didn't want to hurt Diane's feelings. Di meant well.

'Tomorrow, then. You're not getting out of it. And we're taking you out, no arguments. You've earned it. I totted up how much you made—oh, and we had another pile of donations while you were away.' Diane hugged her again. 'Welcome back. We missed you. You're a heroine.'

Rowena shrugged. 'All I did was a little bit of walking.'

'And the rest of it. The sponsored swims, the dinner parties, the Chile nights. And you auctioned Marty. Four times.'

Marty, their young and good-looking paramedic, had agreed to be auctioned for a day. There had been so many bids that Rowena had talked him into doing it again. Three more times. 'He loved every second of it,' she said with a grin. Then her smile faded. 'He loved Peggy,' she said softly.

'We all did. And I still don't feel right, being in her office,' Diane agreed, equally softly.

Rowena straightened her spine. 'So, anything changed while I was away?' she asked.

'Yep. George did the deed, the day after you went to Chile.'

Rowena groaned. 'Oh, no.' He'd been threatening to resign, but she'd hoped he wouldn't. 'Couldn't you talk him out of it?'

'Not this time. He had a major barney with our esteemed CEO.'

Patients were people, not figures. That was George's view. But Alisha, the hospital's chief executive officer, was an accountant, and saw patients in terms of bed management and statistics. 'They have a fight at least once a week over the department's stats,' Rowena said. 'What was so different this time?'

'George got chest pains and he ended up on a monitor in here.'

She stared at Diane in shock. 'Oh, no. Is he OK?'

'Yeah. Turns out he's got angina. And the beginnings of a peptic ulcer. Sally, um, informed Alisha that she wanted her husband to live long enough to retire. Actually, Sally came to tell her in person. I think the words "cold-hearted cow" and "couldn't run a booze-up in a brewery, much less a hospital" and "better budget for a few more locums, because you make the whole hospital sick" might have been used.'

Rowena rubbed her hand across her mouth to stop herself laughing. George's wife was very blunt. And, as always, she'd hit the nail on the head. Alisha simply didn't take the human factor into account when she issued her directives. 'Alisha's secretary had her intercom on, then?'

'I think half the hospital was listening into this one.' Diane nodded. 'Anyway, Alisha slapped him on sick leave. George retaliated by handing in his notice. He's using his sick leave as his notice period. We're having his leaving party at the end of next week.'

'I go away for two and a half weeks and all hell's let loose. So we're going to be short-staffed, then?' Rowena sighed. 'And with the new directive coming in, we can't even share the load between us. Not unless we fiddle the paperwork, and Alisha's probably got her eye on that.'

'There's some good news. We've got a locum. If he likes us, maybe he'll stay.'

'And if we like him,' Rowena said darkly. They'd had a locum the previous summer who'd been a complete disaster. 'When does he start?'

'Today. Be nice.'

'I'm always nice,' Rowena deadpanned.

Lee, their locum, turned out to be a sweetie and fitted perfectly into the department. But he had no intention of staying in Manchester. His girlfriend had landed a job in London, and Manchester was just too far away for him to commute.

'You could always have a long-distance relationship,' Diane suggested.

'Too far,' Lee asserted.

If London to Manchester was long distance—and too far— just what did that make Chile? Annoyed with herself, Rowena suppressed the thought. Luke was in the past, and he was staying there.

After two weeks, she managed to wake up without automatically turning over in bed to put her arm around a man who wasn't there. Who never had been there, in that particular bed, so she'd despised herself for her weakness. And even when she spent one of her days off in the Pennines with Ben, she managed to push Chile to the back of her mind. Life was back on track again. Just as it had always been. Work, her dog, scraping yet more layers of paint off the woodwork in her house, and all was well with her world.

The following morning, she was putting her things in her locker when Diane came in.

'Lee's obviously not in yet,' Rowena said with a grin. 'No chocolate wrappers.'

'He's not in, full stop. His girlfriend had a car accident on Saturday morning, so he went back to London.'

Rowena winced. 'Poor guy. He must be worried sick. I hope she'll be all right.'

'Ruptured spleen, a few bruises, but otherwise fine,' Diane said. 'He rang and told us.'

'Poor woman.' Rowena sighed. 'And even more poor us. No doubt we're going to be landed with the locum from hell. I knew Lee was too good to be true.'

Diane chuckled. 'Don't be such a grump. Our new man started yesterday.'

'Another George?' Rowena asked hopefully.

Diane pursed her lips. 'Hmm. Take off twenty years or so and add a ton of sex appeal.'

'Which either makes him married or a louse. Or both,' Rowena said crisply.

'Ro, you're impossible! No, he's just gorgeous. Patty—' their receptionist, and queen of the hospital grapevine '—checked him out with Personnel and he's single.'

Rowena looked at her friend, shocked. 'Di, that's against the rules!'

Diane waved a hand. 'Well, we heeded to know.'

'Why not just ask him direct?'

'Because he turns women into gibbering wrecks. You'll understand when you meet him. You won't be able to speak.' She lowered her voice. 'And, right on cue, here he is.'

Rowena turned round to see the man who'd just walked into the rest room, and her knees almost buckled.

She knew the man wearing that white coat.

Except the last time she'd seen him he hadn't been wearing an expensive hand-tailored suit. And his hair hadn't been virtually cropped.

'Told you so,' Diane said, clearly registering the stunned look on Rowena's face. She nudged Rowena in the ribs. 'He's the kind of man who makes me almost wish I wasn't married.'

'Behave,' Rowena said through clenched teeth.

'Morning, Luke. This is our registrar, Rowena Thompson,' Diane said cheerfully. 'Rowena, this is Luke MacKenzie, our new consultant locum.'

Rowena felt as if someone had just slugged her with a huge sack of flour. Luke was here. Part of her wanted to run to him, fling her arms round him, hold him close, tell him how much she'd missed him. Oh, God, just to hold him again. Feel his skin against hers, feel his heartbeat thudding against her. Merging into one.

But part of her knew just what a mistake that would be. They'd said goodbye in Santiago. They'd said adios, not manana. Chile was over. He'd walked out of her life. Anyway, why hadn't he told her that he was coming back to England? She'd as good as asked him what his plans were, and he hadn't corrected her assumption that he was staying in Chile.

Then her stomach turned to water. Was he going to acknowledge her, admit they'd met before? Was he pleased to see her? Or was he going to pretend that Chile had never happened?

'Nice to meet you, Rowena.' He nodded coolly at her.

Not 'again', she noted. Which made it very clear how he felt. Those nights under the stars had never happened. Santiago had never happened.

He was rejecting her.

She lifted her chin, willing herself to stay cool, calm and steady, with no hint of the maelstrom he'd thrown her into. If that was the way he was going to play it, she'd deal with it. The same way she always did. 'With self-control. 'And you, Mr MacKenzie.'

In Chile, they'd been equals. Here, he was her senior. Her boss.

Yet another barrier between them. Which, she acknowledged wryly, was probably just as well.

'Luke's been working abroad,' Diane said.

Yeah. And Rowena knew where. 'How interesting,' she said icily.

'Rowena's been abroad,' Diane added. 'On—'

'I'm sure Mr MacKenzie's too busy to hear about my holiday last month,' Rowena cut in. 'And I think I'm needed in Resus. Excuse me.'

He'd had no idea. No idea at all that she'd be working here. And when he'd seen her standing there by the lockers, those beautiful slate-blue eyes crinkled with laughter, his heart had leapt.

Until she'd seen him.

And then her face had grown cold, shuttered. She hadn't looked pleased to see him. Ha. What had he expected—that she'd run to him and he'd open his arms, pick her up and twirl her round? That she'd cup his face in her hands and kiss him? That she'd have-tears of joy in her eyes and suggest that they take up where they left off?

Hardly.

And he'd been very, very stupid to let himself hope, for that brief second, when he'd recognised her. Hope that this was Fate throwing them together again because they were meant to be together. Hope that she'd missed him as much as he'd missed her. That she'd woken in the night and felt cold, even under a thick duvet, without his body wrapped around hers.

She hadn't even acknowledged that they'd met before. And the way she'd cut in, not letting Diane say the words that might just have given him a chance to say that he knew she'd been in Chile because they'd met out there...

Oh, hell.

Maybe it was just shock. Maybe, when she got used to the idea of him being here, she'd relax again. And then, maybe, she'd let him closer.

Maybe.

Their paths didn't cross again until much, much later—at the end of Rowena's shift, when she was just going home. Luke walked into the rest room just as she closed her locker.

She nodded coolly at him. 'Mr MacKenzie.'

'Rowena, don't be like this.'

'Of all the hospitals in all the world...' He'd had to walk into hers. And she hated the fact that it made her feel as if her life had just been turned upside down.

He gave her a half-smile, as if he remembered their brief conversation about films. His words confirmed it. 'But we'll always have Pehoe.'

'Forget Pehoe,' she said, suddenly furious. Surely he wasn't expecting her to welcome him with open arms? Not after he'd rejected her this morning! He'd had his chance then. And he'd blown it. Big time. 'Why didn't you tell me about this when we were in Chile?'

'I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know I was going to work here myself until the day before yesterday.'

'You told me you were staying in Chile.'

'No, you assumed that.'

'You didn't correct my assumption.'

He shrugged: 'No point. I didn't think we'd ever see each other again. But now...' He reached out to stroke her face, and she jerked back.

'Keep your hands off me.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'That's not what you said in Santiago.'

Oh, God. She couldn't look at his mouth. It would drive her crazy, remembering how much pleasure that beautiful mouth had brought her. She hardened her heart. 'Half a world away. We said adios in Santiago.'

'It doesn't have to be that way.'

'Yes, it does. Now, excuse me. I need to get back to Ben.'

She could see the question on his face. Who's Ben? But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of answering it. He hadn't been straight with her. He'd been laughing at her all along. She'd been just another notch on his bedpost. She'd thought what they'd had was something special. But he'd lied to her.

Had he lied to her about the rest of it, too?

A cold, tight ball formed in the pit of her stomach.

Luke leaned against the lockers as she closed the rest-room door. Closed it quietly, he noticed—though he'd expected her to slam it, judging by the anger in her eyes. He'd been almost pole-axed when he'd seen her standing there in her white coat, chatting to Di. Even though he knew the department's senior registrar had been on leave somewhere exotic, he hadn't put the pieces together. Hadn't dreamed it was her.

And who the hell was Ben? She'd as good as told him she was single. He'd even checked for a wedding ring the day he'd sat next to her on the bus. So she'd lied to him. Played him for a sucker. Made him think she was shy, a bit lonely... There was nothing shy about her here. Everyone knew her. He'd just been her holiday fling. She hadn't even given him her phone number, just in case he wanted' to get in touch with her: she'd made it clear it was over. He refused to let himself think about the way she'd handled Melissa, the way she'd helped Malcolm. The woman wasn't who he'd thought she was. They had no future. And the minute he got offered another post, he'd be out of here.

'Everything all right?' Diane asked as he stomped out of the rest room.

'Fine.'

She frowned. 'You haven't had a run-in with Ro, have you?'

'No,' he lied.

'She can be a bit abrupt sometimes,' Diane offered. 'It takes a little time to get to know her. Once she lets you past the barriers, she's a pussycat.'

He knew that all right. He'd made her purr.

Desire shimmered through him, and he forced it back. Nothing was going to happen between them. Ever again. 'I just pity her poor husband. Ben, isn't it?'

Then he realised that Diane was laughing. 'What?'

'Ben's her dog.'

'Her dog?'

'Mmm. You know, genus canine, four paws, big wavy tail, woofs a bit? She's got pictures of him stuck all over the inside of her locker.' Her smile faded. 'He's about the only one she lets that close to her. And I shouldn't have told you that.'

No, she shouldn't. It would have been easier to stop thinking about Rowena if he'd believed she was married or had a partner. 'It's none of my business.'

Diane raised an eyebrow. 'I'm sorry you two got off on the wrong foot. But don't get the wrong idea about Ro. She's a damned good doctor. She's brilliant with patients—specially kids. She's just...not so good with everyone else, until she gets to know them properly. Just give her a bit of time. Look, we're having a pizza run tomorrow night. She's put it off twice, but she's not getting away with it any more. We want to know everything about Chile and she's promised to tell us.'

Everything?

The dismay must have shown on his face, because she grinned. 'Don't worry, Ro doesn't do the boring slide-show bit. She'll shove the photos at us and tell us to look on the back if we want to know what the picture is. Then she'll tell us she didn't do anything out of the ordinary and she'll make us talk about anything except herself.'

So his first impressions had been right all along. Right, wrong, right... He was in a tailspin. At the moment he didn't quite trust his judgement. Not where Rowena was concerned.

'Come with us. It'll be a good way for you to meet the team.'

'I think Dr Thompson would prefer it if I didn't.'

Diane lifted one eyebrow. 'We don't do formality in here. Yes, you're our consultant—but, as far as we're concerned, you're Luke. One of us. And she's Ro.'

He'd never shortened her name. Neither had she.

'Got it?'

He nodded. 'Got it.'

She smiled. 'Good. See you tomorrow. I'll let you know when and where I've booked a table.'

I'm not happy about Judy.' Rowena tapped her pen on the file. 'She says it's a tummy bug, but she's had it worse than anyone else in the house. She's been staying at her friend's all week because her parents are away, and the others got over it within twenty-four hours. This is her third day, and she can't stop being sick. She's dehydrated. Her blood pressure's very low—to the point where she's got postural hypotension.' This meant that when Judy stood up, she felt light-headed. Rowena shook her head in frustration. 'And she looks as if she's been sitting out in the sun all week. I wonder...' She frowned. 'Have we got those bloods back yet? I want to see her sodium and potassium levels. And I want to know what her white blood cells are doing.'

'Her glucose level is low,' Diane said.

Rowena bit her lip. 'Poor kid. I think it's an Addison's crisis.'

'She's young,' Diane said.

'Mmm. And, I know, she hasn't got all the symptoms. She's not tachycardic—' Judy's heartbeat wasn't abnormally fast '—and there's no peripheral vasoconstriction.' Her veins hadn't narrowed, making her skin seem cold. 'I've just got a feeling on this one.'

'Maybe you should have a word with Luke,' Di suggested.

'Someone mention my name?'

Rowena scowled. Her early radar system definitely wasn't working where he was concerned. 'Suspected Addison's crisis. She hasn't been diagnosed with Addison's, but...' She swiftly went through Judy's symptoms.

'Have you checked her gums and the creases on her palms for hyperpigmentation?' Darker colour on the gums and skin was caused by the hormone ACTH, which triggered the production of cortisol in the body. In Addison's disease, the adrenal failed so not enough cortisol was produced, and the body didn't have enough reserves of cortisol to deal with stress.

'No, though I think we'll find it—she looks as if she's spent too much time in the sun.'

'Bloods back yet?'

She shook her head. 'But, according to her friend, she's been on a major diet and lost tons of weight—even though she still stuffs her face with crisps every day.'

'Salt cravings?' Luke nodded grimly. 'Sounds as if you're spot on and it's an Addisonian crisis. Don't wait to get the bloods back. Start the treatment now.'

'Saline drip, a hundred millilitres of hydrocortisone sodium succinate IV stat, and get an ACTH test added to the bloods,' Rowena said.

'Yep. What's the TB situation around here?'

'Nothing to speak of—it's more common in London than here.' Tuberculosis was once the most common cause of Addison's disease. Nowadays, and given that Judy lived in an affluent area, it was more likely to be caused by an overactive immune system which had started attacking her body's own organs. 'I'll do a chest X-ray, but my guess is it's been caused by destructive atrophy.'

He nodded. 'Good call. You know what you're doing— yell if you need me.'

'Thanks.' At least he wasn't the sort who felt he had to take every single decision himself. Then again, he'd already worked with her. He'd left her to take over from him on the trek. He knew she was capable. She looked at Di. 'Can you get on the phone to the lab for me, please?'

'Sure.'

'I'll write up her chart and sort out the drips,' Rowena added. She knew that Diane was perfectly capable of doing the drips, but she needed to keep busy. Too busy to let herself think about Luke MacKenzie.

That evening, in the pizza restaurant, Luke noticed that Rowena hovered on the edge of the group. Tonight was meant to be her celebration, but she'd made sure she wasn't in the centre of things.

She'd made sure she wasn't sitting near him either.

He sighed inwardly. So much for thinking he could act like an adult. He couldn't take his eyes off her. And when she bit into a piece of garlic bread, he nearly whimpered out loud. He could still remember exactly how her mouth had felt against his.

He caught her eye, very briefly, and a shock wave zapped between them—but then she blanked him again, deliberately turned away to talk to someone else.

If he were sensible, he'd leave it. But he wasn't feeling sensible. He didn't want to put a name to his feelings, but sensible definitely wasn't it. He had to talk to her. And the only thing he knew she'd talk to him about was work.

'What happened with your Addison's case?' he said, walking over to her chair.

'Judy?' To his relief, she didn't find some excuse to walk away. 'Her blood results were pretty much as I expected. ACTH and potassium levels up, sodium levels down and normoblastic anaemia. I sent her for a chest X-ray and there were no signs of TB. We had a chat and she told me she's been under a lot of stress lately. Her period was late and she thought she might be pregnant; she's been worrying about her exam results; and she doesn't want to go to university, though her parents are expecting her to do it.'

'So the stress, combined with the tummy bug, tipped the balance.'

She nodded. 'I put her on steroids, and I explained to her about keeping a hydrocortisone injection kit with her and how to store it. Then I arranged for her to be admitted. I've said I'll pop in to see her tomorrow.'

'That's above and beyond the call of duty.' He regretted the words instantly when she gave him a cold look.

'It's how I do my job. Deal with it.'

'I'm sorry.'

Her eyes said she didn't believe him. She simply shrugged, and turned away.

At three o'clock next morning, Rowena was curled up on the sofa with Ben. 'I can't work with him. It's impossible.'

Ben licked her knee, as if agreeing.

'Every time I see him, I think about Chile. About what happened. It's so stupid. I know it's not going to happen again. And I'm like a teenager when he's around—on pins, worried that I'll say or do something stupid. I'm miserable when he's not around, because I miss him; and I'm miserable when he is around, because he's not mine any more.'

Another lick.

'What am I going to do, Ben? He^>s already rejected me once. If I let him close... It's too much of a risk. If he changes his mind again and rejects me a second time, it's going to take me too long to put my world back together.'

Ben nudged her, as if to remind her that he was there for her.

'I love you. You're different. You're not going to hurt me.' She rubbed his ears. 'But Luke could hurt me badly. I can't deal with it. And working with him is sheer torture. It's a bit like me putting a doggy treat just out of your reach, then walking out and leaving you to it.' She sighed. 'Hell. I like working at Lizzy's. I like working in the ED. But the grapevine said Alisha called him in today. And he wasn't scowling when he came out. So I think he's going to stay.' She ruffled Ben's ears. 'Looks as if I'm going to have to be the one who moves, then.' She sighed again, climbed off the sofa, wrote a swift letter, sealed it and scrawled his name on the envelope. 'Tomorrow morning, my resignation will be on his desk,' she informed the dog. 'Twenty-eight days, and I can walk away.'

Rowena had been avoiding him all day. She wasn't anywhere to be seen right now either—she'd gone on her break and nobody knew where she was. Luke sighed. Brooding about it wasn't going to make her miraculously appear in front of his desk. So he may just as well make a start on his paperwork.

He'd used paperwork after Charlie had died, too. Done masses of the stuff, because it had kept his mind focused on any subject other than that of his twin. Which was probably why he hated paperwork so passionately now. It brought back too many bad memories.

Three reports later, he came across an envelope. Handwritten. He frowned, and opened it. His frown deepened when he read it. And then he stomped out of his office to find her.

'Dr Thompson?' he barked. 'A word. My office. Now.'

Her jaw tightened. 'Pulling rank?'

'Yes.'

She scowled, but she followed him. He closed the door behind him and waved the letter at her. 'What's this supposed to mean?'

'It's clear enough. I'm leaving.'

'No way. You're an important part of the team. Why do you want to go?'

'That's my business.'

'Wrong. It's mine. I'm your boss.'

She folded her arms. 'Temporarily.'

'It might just be permanently.' He threw her earlier words back at her. 'Deal with it.'

She sighed. 'I can't.' She dropped wearily into the chair in front of his desk. 'I just can't work with you, Luke.'

It was the first time she'd used his name since Santiago, and it made him shiver with longing, deep inside. 'Why not?' he asked softly. 'I'm just another doctor.'

'You were supposed to be...' She cleared her throat. 'Supposed to be a fling. We agreed. One week. I'm back in the real world now. Back in my life.'

'I'm here, too.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Why? Why are you here?'

He shrugged. 'It was time I came back to England. But,' he admitted wryly, 'I chose Manchester because it's far enough away from home that I don't have to live with my parents' grief.'

'Your parents?'

'I told you in Chile.'

'You told me hardly anything in Chile.'

Oh, God. She was bright; he knew that. Couldn't she put two and two together? The way he'd reacted over Stephen...couldn't she guess why?

But she was clearly waiting.

'I lost my brother. My twin.' The words were ripped from him.

'I'm sorry.' She leaned forward and pressed a hand to his arm.

Pity. That was what had driven him to Chile in the first place. Far, far away, where nobody would ask questions or feel sorry for him. He shook her off. 'I don't need your pity, Rowena.'

'No.' She pushed her chair back. 'There are a few things I can think of that you need more.' Without elaborating on her comment, she left the room and slammed his office door. Hard.

'Nice going, MacKenzie,' Luke said dryly. 'You didn't get her to retract the letter.'

But she would.

Tomorrow.

And if she didn't... He still wasn't accepting it. With a scowl, he ripped her resignation letter in half.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rowena frowned when she heard her doorbell. She hadn't invited anyone over. She wasn't expecting a parcel either— anyway, her neighbour always left a note if she'd taken something in for Rowena. So maybe it was a cold-caller, hoping for a charity donation or something like that.

Well, she wasn't in the mood for dealing with people. She was still simmering after her brush with Luke.

The bell rang again, and she ignored it.

When it rang a third time, she stomped over to the door, about to tell whoever it was to just leave her alone and come back later—and stopped dead.

Luke was leaning against the doorjamb.

Her eyes narrowed. 'What are you doing here?'

'I wanted to talk to you.' His voice was very quiet, his tone mild.

'How did you know where I lived?'

'I snooped in your personnel file.'

Oh. So it hadn't been some well-meaning matchmaker in the department. That was a relief. Though she really ought to be angry with him for looking in her file. It was confidential.

And he was her boss. Which, she supposed, gave him the right to know more about her.

'What do you want?' she asked.

'To ask you not to resign. To apologise.' He brought his hands from behind his back and presented her with an armful of roses.

Roses.

She couldn't stop the quiver of desire at the memory, but she clamped her teeth together. She was not going to melt into a little puddle at his feet. She really wasn't.

'You caught me at a bad time,' he said quietly. 'And I'm still unreasonable when I think about Charlie. My kid brother, by all of ten minutes.' He sucked in a breath. 'But that's no excuse for taking it out on you. I'm sorry.'

She could understand that. Some days she was just as unreasonable. Bit people's heads off without a reason. 'Apology accepted.'

'Tell me one thing. Why do you push people away before they get too close?'

'The same reason as you.' Near enough. Except the person she'd lost first was still alive. Her mother just...didn't want her. Had dumped her at the age of two. Sixteen years later, when Rowena had tracked her down, Maria had done it all over again.

'May I come in?'

She realised that she was still leaning on the doorframe. It was hardly the way to treat a guest—even an uninvited one.

There was a worried growl behind her. 'It's OK, Ben,' she said softly. 'He's not going to hurt you.'

'Of course I'm not.' To her surprise, Luke rummaged in his pocket. 'May I?'

She frowned. He'd brought her dog a present?

'I didn't bring him any doggy snacks, because I don't know what you feed him and I didn't want to get the wrong thing. But every dog I know likes one of these.'

A squeaky toy. Shaped like a newspaper.

'May I?' he asked again. When she didn't respond, he dropped to a crouch. Getting down to Ben's height, she noticed. Either he understood dog psychology, or someone had told him Ben was a rescue dog and primed him. 'Hello, Ben. Take a sniff when you're ready, and you can tell your mistress I'm safe.' He kept his voice low and calm, and stretched his hand out at a low level. Again, non-threatening, not invading the dog's space; he simply waited until the dog came to him.

Any second now Ben would curl his lip and growl. Any second.

And then the dog really shocked her. He sniffed Luke's hand, then stepped forward. Just far enough to allow Luke to scratch under his chin.

In the two years she'd had the dog, Rowena had never— never—known Ben react to a man that way. He either backed away or went straight into aggressive mode, thanks to the farmer who'd mistreated him as a pup.

When he took the squeaky toy from Luke without any fuss, she gave in. She stepped back from the door and beckoned him inside.

'How did you do that?' she asked.

'I grew up with dogs.'

'Did you know he was a rescue dog?' Suspicion thickened her voice.

Luke shook his head. 'But I'm not surprised.'

She decided not to ask for an explanation. She really didn't want to hear it. 'Do you want a coffee?'

'Thanks. That'd be lovely.' He followed her into the kitchen. 'Nice place you have here.'

'I like it.'

'I wasn't expecting you to live in the posh part of Manchester.'

'I bought it when I was a house officer. Before prices went berserk—and before the area was gentrified.' She hadn't quite finished renovating all the rooms yet. Not that it mattered. She didn't need two spare bedrooms. After all, she didn't have family to come and stay with her. 'What about you?'

'I'm renting a bed-sit for the time being.'

'Right.' She finished making the coffee. 'Milk? Sugar?'

'Just milk, please.'

She added milk to his mug and handed it to him. He smiled his thanks. They were being so polite to each other. Who'd have thought that a week ago they'd spent an entire night feasting on each other's bodies? Heat flooded through her and she tried desperately to suppress it. It was over. Over.

'Take a seat.' Hopefully he wouldn't stay for long. 'I'll put these in water.' She was relieved to turn away from him, using the excuse that she needed to trim the stems before she arranged the flowers in a vase.

He'd bought her roses. Surely he couldn't have forgotten what he'd done with that single red rosebud? Or was he deliberately trying to stir up her memories?

She took as long as possible arranging the flowers, then gulped a large mouthful of coffee before facing him again. And nearly dropped her mug in shock when she saw Ben with his paws on Luke's knee. The dog was actually licking Luke's face.

'He never does that,' she said, shaking her head. 'Never. Only to me.'

Luke shrugged. 'I think he knows I'm not going to hurt him. That he's safe with me.'

Maybe. But Luke could hurt her—badly—if she let him close again. She wasn't safe with him. At all.

'What's the story?'

Rowena pulled out the chair next to his and sat down. 'Ben was the last one of the litter. The farmer planned to keep him, except the mum turned against the pup. So most of the time he was kept chained up.' She forced herself to unclench her fists. This part still made her angry. It always would. 'He wasn't fed properly, and he had broken ribs when he was rescued. Whether from a boot or a stick, I don't know—but it took a while for him to stop flinching, stop growling when anyone came within a few feet of him. He won't go near a man. Usually,' she added.

'I don't understand how anyone could treat a dog like that. Lucky for him you came along.'

'Cathy did, you mean.'

'Cathy?'

'A friend. She runs a boarding kennels and a rescue centre for spaniels. The police took him straight to her. Anyway, she said I'd be good for Ben. Even though I don't work regular hours.'

'How long has he been with you?'

'Two years. He's three years old next week.'

'Twenty-one, in human terms. If you were human, I'd sneak you out for the night and buy you a beer,' he said to the dog, scratching just behind his ears.

Ben rewarded him with another lick.

Rowena wasn't sure whether to feel relieved that Ben had passed another milestone in learning to trust humans, jealous that Luke had grabbed her dog's attention or amused at Luke's light banter.

It wasn't fair. Just when she thought she knew how she was going to handle things, he wrong-footed her.

Rowena didn't know whether to hug him or throttle him. That much was obvious. Luke suppressed a sigh. He may as well do what he'd come here to do. Tell her. Let her judge him. And then she could walk away.

'I owe you an explanation,' he said. 'About Charlie.'

'Your brother?'

He nodded. 'You know there's this good twin, bad twin thing? Well, Charlie, was the good one. We weren't identical. He didn't look anything like me—he had blue eyes, blond hair. I heard one girl describe him as a Botticelli angel. And he had the temper to match. Never got drunk and stayed out late, never back-chatted our mum, never went off without telling anyone where he was going and when he'd be back.' He caught the expression on her face and scowled. 'I don't mean he was a goody-two-shoes. He just thought about other people first, made sure they didn't worry about him. He was a nice guy. He worked hard at school, never got detention, did well in his exams.'

'And you were the opposite?'

Oh, yeah. 'Charlie liked being part of a close family. I didn't. It wasn't comforting for me—it was stifling. I couldn't breathe. So I rebelled. Drank too much, went to all the wrong parties, changed my girlfriend every week. I failed my mock A-levels.' He bit his lip. 'Then Charlie took me to one side. Told me that our parents would never give me the freedom I craved if I didn't earn it. That I was hurting myself just as much as I was hurting everyone else. And I realised he was right. So I cleaned up my act. I cut back on the parties, I worked like hell in those last three /months before my exams—and I scraped into university.'

'Was he a doctor, too?'

Luke nodded. 'Not medicine. History. Arts is the thing in my family, not science—I think that's why I never really fitted in. I love films, but the rest of it passes me by. I'm a cultural philistine.' He took a deep breath. 'Charlie was all set to be a history professor at Oxford. Young and brilliant. And then he just stopped going home. Stopped calling. If it had been me, my parents wouldn't have worried. Ever since I qualified, I only went home on their birthdays and at Christmas—and only ever for a day. I used my job as an excuse to escape. But Charlie...he liked the family bit. He always took his girlfriends home to meet the folks. So when he kept making excuses not to go home, they worried. I told them it was nothing to worry about—that he was probably having a belated teenage rebellion like mine. But my mother begged me to go and see him.'

He'd been so sure she'd just been fussing, the way mothers did. So sure. After all, he was Charlie's twin, and twins were supposed to know this sort of thing at a gut level, weren't they? Charlie was fine.

But he'd gone to see his brother anyway. 'I arrived in Oxford, unannounced. And there was Charlie. Pale, breathless. His girlfriend admitted he always had a sore throat. He kept brushing it off, saying that he was probably working too hard but he wanted that professorship, and he'd slow down once he got it—he'd take some Echinacea or something to ward off the colds in the meantime. But that night I saw him get out of the shower. I saw the bruises on his arms. The petechiae on his legs.' Petechiae were small spots on the legs or in the mouth—a particular pattern of bruising that was linked with acute myeloid leukaemia.

Luke leaned forward, resting his head against the dog. Ben, as if sensing that he needed comfort, leaned right back. No pressure, no clingy demands—just warm fur and a heartbeat close to his. 'I marched him to his GP for blood tests. I even went in with him. Rattled off the jargon. And I asked the doctor to rush the results.' He shrugged. 'You can guess the rest. The bloods showed signs of AML. They did a bone-marrow biopsy and the usual cytogenics. He had a high white blood cell count, so I knew it was going to be tough to beat. The chemotherapy didn't even touch it. I spoke to his consultant, offered to donate bone marrow—he said there wasn't much point, that it wouldn't work, but I insisted. I was so sure it'd work, that they'd transplant it and my will would overcome the AML. But I wasn't a match.' His jaw tightened. Even now, it made him angry. So angry that he could smash a glacier with his bare hands. 'My own bloody twin, and I wasn't a match. He saved my life, and I couldn't save his.'

'It happens,' Rowena said softly. 'You weren't identical. It's not your fault.'

^! 'It doesn't stop it hurting.' The words were choked out of him. He had never admitted this, never. But with Rowena and her dog, he was safe. They wouldn't crowd him. Wouldn't pity him. Wouldn't smother him. 'Charlie said he didn't want a transplant. The way he saw it, he'd get an extra couple of months but they'd be spent stuck in a hospital bed, away from his books. He didn't want that. He wanted to die with dignity. So I explained to my boss, took a sabbatical and lived in Oxford for the last three months of Charlie's life. So I could be near him. Help him. Read to him when he was too tired to do it for himself. And it didn't make a bit of difference. All I could do was watch him die.' He'd faded away a little every day. Each day a little paler, a little weaker, those bruises blooming across his skin. Each day looking a little bit more like one of those marble angels you saw on Victorian gravestones.

'If it was me,'. Rowena said slowly* 'and my brother—the one who never came home, who didn't like doing the family bit, who never let anyone close—if he stayed with me when I was dying, it'd make a difference. Because I'd know that he loved me, that he cared enough about me to be there when it mattered.'

'It didn't stop him dying.'

'Nothing could, if the chemo didn't work.'

Luke lifted his head again. 'I lost it completely when he died. I reassessed my entire life, and I didn't like what I saw. When I had my doctor's hat on, it was fine. When I didn't...' He wasn't fit to bear the MacKenzie name. 'It should have been me. My parents could've coped without me—I was never there anyway. Not Charlie. He was the light of, their lives. It should have been me, not him, who died.' He took a deep, shuddering breath. 'So now you know.'

'I'll keep it to myself,' she said quietly.

He nodded his thanks. 'That's why I went to Chile. After Charlie died, they phoned me every single day. If I got a cold, they panicked that it'd turn into pneumonia. If I had a headache, they'd think it was a symptom of a brain tumour.

I couldn't stand the pressure. So I went where they couldn't reach me. Except by radio. And only if I chose to answer.'

Luke's family had offered him comfort, and he'd refused it. What would it be like, to have a family who cared that much? A family who wanted to know how you were doing, who remembered your birthday, who rang you just because it was a sunny day and they wanted to tell you they loved you?

Rowena ached for the family she'd never had. The family she'd wanted. The kind of family Luke had thrown away so carelessly. She tightened her grip on her coffee. 'Did it ever occur to you that you were being a selfish jerk ?'

'Yeah. In the middle of the first trek, when I was halfway up a glacier, I slipped and lost a fair bit of skin.' He shrugged, as if dismissing his own hurts. 'When I got back to Santiago, I rang them. Said I needed to sort my head out. I loved them, but I needed space and time. I'd text them whenever I was in an area with a signal—but that wouldn't be every day. They'd be lucky if it was one day in seven. But I was making some kind of sense of my life. Working things out. Doing a job that would make a difference.'

'Trek doctor.'

He nodded. 'Not for the tourists. For the fundraisers. It wasn't always for leukaemia, but it was always something worthwhile. Something that would make a difference.'

That was why she'd gone on the trek. To make a difference. 'And now that you're back in England?' she asked.

'Same deal. I text them every day. I ring them when I think I can handle a phone call.' He looked at her as if puzzled by the edge in her voice. 'I thought you'd understand. You back away from people, too. At the pizza place the other night you kept to the edges of the group. You did the same in Chile. Wouldn't let anyone close.'

'Except you. And that was a mistake.'

'Was it?'

She didn't want to answer that.

'So that's my story. What's yours?'

She shrugged. 'Nothing to tell. Peggy was a colleague. A friend. When she died, I wanted to do something practical.'

His eyes narrowed. 'You're blocking me out.'

'I don't know you.'

He reached across the table and tangled his fingers in hers. 'You trusted me in Chile. Why not now?'

She shook her head. 'It's not the same.'

'You're the first person I've talked to about Charlie who hasn't gone sentimental and mawkish on me. Let me return the favour.'

She stared at him for a long, long moment.

'We're more alike than you think, you and I,' he said softly. 'Tell me. I'm not going to spread gossip.'

He was holding her hand and stroking her dog. If Ben, who'd had as many kicks in his short life as she'd had in hers, could trust him... She nodded. 'OK. Peggy was special. She was probably the kindest person I've ever met. She always saw the good in people. When I joined the department as a house officer, she looked after me. Made me feel part of the team. And when she found I...' She couldn't force the words out. Couldn't admit to her past. Couldn't admit that nobody had wanted a confused, terrified child. That she'd pulled herself up from the gutter, made something of her life, and she still wasn't good enough for her mother.

'Anyway. Peggy found out I was spending Christmas on my own.' She paused, waiting for him to ask why, but he didn't. He just held her hand and waited. 'So she asked me to her house for Christmas dinner. She wouldn't take no for an answer. She treated me like one of her family. She even made me a Christmas stocking. She'd painted my name on it with a glitter pen, just like she'd done for everyone else at the table. She'd spent her precious free time doing something for me.' Something she could never remember anyone doing before that.

She swallowed hard. 'One. day, I noticed that she seemed more tired than usual. She claimed she'd been doing too many shifts, but... I dunno. Something didn't seem right. And then one of the oncology team let it slip that Peggy was going for chemo. It was unbelievable. She was having treatment for leukaemia in the hospital where she worked, but she'd sworn them all to secrecy and she was coming straight back from her chemotherapy to the ward and putting in a full shift. I asked her why, and she said she just didn't want to let anyone down. Typical Peggy. She never put herself first.

'She was the charge nurse. We all loved her as if she had been our mother. And when she died, everybody on our ward cried. And on Oncology, too.' She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing the tears to stay back. 'I mean everybody, from the students right up to. the consultants. Hell, even Alisha was upset, and it was the first time any of us had seen her act like a human being. The only time.'

There was a long, long pause. 'Peggy sounds very special,' Luke said softly.

'She is. Was.' Rowena sighed. 'I still can't take in that she's dead. That I'm never going to see her again. Every time I go past her office, I expect to hear her voice, or see her coming out of the door, or see her in Resus, calmly dealing with the usual Saturday night carnage. When she's not...it feels wrong.'

'That's how I am about Charlie. Sometimes I even hear him talking to me.' Luke gave her a wry smile. 'In Chile, he told me to stop wearing the hair shirt and go home.'

'So you came back?'

He nodded. 'He was right. It was time.'

'You cut your hair.'

He gave a half-shrug. 'How many consultants do you know with long hair?'

'I thought it'd curl, if it was short.' Unable to help herself, she reached over and ran her fingers through his hair.

'You're the only woman who's ever combed my hair.' His eyes darkened. 'Since I was a kid.'

She didn't remember anyone ever combing hers. Maybe that's why she'd cut it short when she'd been five. At school, with play scissors. Hacked lumps and lumps of it off. The teacher had marched her to the school secretary, who had neatened it up, and Rowena had worn her hair short ever since. 'You're the only man I've ever shared a shower with.'

His thumb rubbed against her palm. 'You've lived a sheltered life.'

If only he knew. 'And you've had hundreds of girlfriends.'

He lifted an eyebrow. 'As a teenager, maybe. I didn't have sex with all of them.'

Which left her to wonder just how many he had slept with. Ha. Sauce for the goose, she thought bitterly. 'Did you have a girlfriend when Charlie...?'

'Fiancée,' he said. 'But I hurt too much after Charlie to love anyone. I broke it off the day he died.'

'Regret it now?'

He shook his head. 'I wasn't right for her anyway. She's married now. Happily. Expecting her first baby. And I wish her well.'

She believed him.

'And you?'

'What?'

'Married? Engaged?'

'Neither.'

'String of men?'

Well, he may as well hear the rest of it. 'When I was eighteen.' She'd taken comfort anywhere she could get it after she'd met Maria. After Maria had told her coldly, calmly why she never, ever wanted to see her firstborn child again.

'And it didn't work, so you went the other way. Pushed people away from you.'

She wasn't expecting that. Understanding. Surely he was supposed to despise her for being a slut? 'Yeah.'

'Deep down, we're the same.'

No. He didn't want people close. She did. But she was scared to let them—she couldn't face another rejection. It was easier to keep them at a distance, make sure she wasn't pushed away.

'Rowena.' His voice was very soft. 'What happens now?' When she didn't respond, he added, 'About us.'

'There is no us.'

'There was. In Chile.'

'That was then.'

'There was a spark between us. Still is.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Your point being?'

'Even when I'm trying to keep my distance from you, I can't. I can't stop thinking about you.'

'That's your problem. I don't think about you.' It wasn't true, but he wouldn't know that.

'Liar.' His lips quirked. 'I saw your face when I gave you the roses. You remembered.'

She stared at him. 'You bought roses on purpose?'

'No,' he admitted. 'They were the nicest flowers in the shop. I thought you'd like them. It was only when I stood on your doorstep that I realised you might take it the wrong way.'

She didn't have an answer for that.

'Rowena.' He drew her hand up to his mouth. Pressed a kiss into her palm. 'It's still there. For both of us.'

'We can't mix work and...' A relationship. The words stuck in her throat.

'Maybe we just didn't get it out of our system the first time. Maybe we should...'

Have another fling? She pulled her hand away. 'Maybe we should act like the adults we are, exercise a bit of self-control and forget it.' She pushed her chair back and stood up. 'I think you've finished your coffee. Thank you for the flowers and the explanation.'

'You want me to go now.' Luke nodded. 'OK. I'll leave you in peace.' He followed her to the door. Just as she was about to open the door, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her—hot and swift and hard.

'It's still there,' he said softly when he'd released her.

And, without another word, he left the house.

Rowena banged the door behind him, then slid down the wall. Ben nosed her anxiously. 'It's OK, boy. There's nothing to worry about. I'll deal with this,' she reassured him.

And she would. Once she worked out how.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day at work started like any other. Rowena nodded hello at Luke in passing but managed to be too busy to talk to him. To her relief, he didn't press the point, just left her to get on with her job.

And then Luke took a call and came over to her. 'Rowena, we've got a serious one coming in. Not majax proportions—' a majax was hospital shorthand for a major incident, which usually meant a pile-up on the motorway with many casualties '—but it's bad. There's been a chemical spill at one of the engineering companies and five men have been contaminated.'

'Do we need to set up the decontamination area?' she asked. It would mean cordoning off an area from the rest of the department, with a chemically resistant floor covering and control points to make sure clean areas outside the decontamination area weren't affected. The staff within the area would also need TST suits and boots, gloves, face masks and goggles.

'Good thinking, but the fire crews have already sorted that—they set up a decontamination area at the site, isolated the clothes and decontaminated the men's hair and skin with showers, and the paramedics have sorted the eye baths.'

'What happened?'

'Mix of caustic soda—anhydrous sodium hydroxide sodium hydrate to you and me—and trichloroethylene. So we're looking at fumes. Probably phosgene, which is toxic, and hydrogen chloride, which is very corrosive.'

'Are they on their way in now?'

Luke nodded. 'Ambulance Control says a couple of them are having major breathing difficulties and their sats levels are low. I need you to clear Resus for me, and then come in with me. I'll sort out another three staff to help us.'

'Do we have all the Hazchem information?' she asked. The information sheets told them more about the chemicals and which substances to avoid when treating patients.

He nodded. 'I've already checked. Trichloroethylene's nasty—we're looking at possible problems with the central nervous system, liver and kidney damage. It's a volatile aliphatic halogenated compound, so it can cause cardiac problems.'

'Made worse by stress and lack of oxygen,' Rowena said with a grimace. 'Who wouldn't be stressed by being involved in a chemical spill?'

'Yeah.' He smiled at her. 'See you in a minute.'

By the time Rowena had cleared Resus—calling in a couple of favours and getting the patients in there admitted to the wards—Luke had told Di what was going on and enlisted three of the nurses to help.

Luke briefed them swiftly. 'These men have been affected by a chemical spill—one of the chemicals can cause liver and kidney damage, so I need their bloods done. I need a full blood count and a complete biochemistry screen, including renal, liver and muscle enzyme levels. I also need urine samples. Some of them have breathing problems and their sats are low, so we need to stabilise them first—that's why I need you all here. Once they're stable, we'll sort out chest X-rays. We'll need ECGs as well. Any questions?'

They all shook their heads.

'Great. If you each take one patient—any worries, give me or Ro a yell, OK?'

India, Tammy and Karen were three of their most experienced nurses, so Rowena knew they wouldn't need babysitting. If they called for help, it would be serious.

She introduced herself to her patient, Josh Wetherby, set up the leads to monitor his heart and did a quick set of observations. It wasn't good. He couldn't complete any sentences, his pulse was fast at a hundred beats per minute and his breathing was also fast at around thirty breaths a minute. 'Josh, have you had any breathing problems before?'

'Asthmatic,' he said.

'Have you taken your inhaler?'

'Couldn't find it.' His breathing became more panicky.

'It's OK, Josh, I've got something here. I'll give you some salbutamol in a nebuliser, and that should calm everything down again for you.' She quickly set up the drugs. 'Breathe in for me. Nice and steady. Deep and slow as you can, OK? That's good. And again. And again.'

To her relief, the drugs started to work and he appeared to be stabilising. 'Easier?' she asked.

He nodded, clearly too tired to speak.

'I'll keep you on oxygen for a little bit longer.' She smiled at him. 'I'm just going to get a syringe so I can take some blood samples.' But before she'd even reached, the trolley, she heard Josh's monitor ping. She glanced at the readout and her heart sank.

'He's arrested. I need a body here, please,' she called.

Luke was by her side instantly. 'Hell. He's gone into asystole.'

Asystole was where no electrical activity could be detected in the heart—the ECG trace was a straight line.

'Sure it's not just very fine VF?' VF or ventricular fibrillation was an abnormal heart rhythm where the heart contracted very quickly but the contractions weren't effective in sending blood round the body.

Luke checked Josh's pulse, then the placement of the ECG leads. 'Nope. No pulse, and the leads are fine. Let's go. Unshockable protocol. You bag, I'll do the compressions.' • She fitted the bag over Josh's mouth and gave one breath of air, Luke counted out five compressions, and Rowena gave another breath of air. After three minutes, Josh was still down.

'I'll intubate him—we need to secure his airway—and you give him one milligram of adrenalin, IV,' Luke said.

It didn't work.

They did another three-minute loop of CPR. Josh was still asystole.

'I'll give him three milligrams of atropine,' Rowena said, 'Come on, come on, Josh! Just go into VF so we can shock you and get you back.'

Another loop. Still asystole.

'Come on, Josh. You're not giving up on us now,' Rowena said, giving Josh another milligram of adrenalin.

Another loop—this time with a high dose of five milligrams of adrenalin—and then she switched with Luke, giving him a break from the compressions so he could do the breaths.

After twenty minutes, Luke took the bag off Josh's mouth. 'He's gone, Ro,' he said softly.

'No.'

'Asystole for twenty minutes. You know as well as I do, the chances of recovery now are extremely remote. We need to call it.'

She took a deep breath. 'OK. But he's my patient. I'll do it. Time of death—' her voice cracked '—fifteen twelve.'

'Take five minutes,' he told her. 'Get yourself a strong coffee.'

'I'm OK.'

'It's an order, Ro,' he said gently.

She knew he was right. Just walking out of Resus helped. So did a cup of coffee, with enough cold water added to let her drink it straight down.

'You OK, Ro?' Diane asked, walking into the rest room.

'Lost my patient.'

'Sorry.' She squeezed Rowena's shoulder. 'Not your fault.'

'But it still feels crap.'

'Always does.'

'I'd better get back to work.' Rowena took a deep breath, and went back to Resus.

Luke nodded at her. 'Better?'

'Yeah,' she lied. 'What do you need me to do?'

'Take over from me. I'll talk to Josh's wife—I think she's in the relatives' room.'

'I'll do it. He was my patient. It's my job.'

'You don't have to. I'm—' He stopped abruptly, as if realising that now wasn't the right time to pull rank, tell her that as the senior doctor in the room he would be the one to break the news. 'I'm here if you change your mind,' he finished.

'Noted, and thank you, but I'll do it.' She steeled herself and headed for the relatives' room. 'Mrs Wetherby?'

One of the five women stood up. 'My Josh? Is he all right?' Her eyes were red-rimmed with crying.

'Maybe we should have a word in private,' Rowena said gently. 'Would you like to come with me to my office?'

Mrs Wetherby followed her, twisting her hands together. 'Please, no. He's not...'

Rowena put her arm under Mrs Wetherby's elbow and guided her to a chair. 'I'm sorry. We did everything we could, but his heart just stopped beating and we couldn't get him back.'

'I knew that job would be the death of him. He works stupid hours, and it was never good for his asthma.' Then, as if Mrs Wetherby had suddenly taken in what she'd said, she gasped out loud. 'My Josh. Dead.'

'I'm sorry,' Rowena said again.

'My Josh.' Mrs Wetherby wrapped her arms round herself and began to rock in the chair. 'I kept telling him to find something else. It didn't matter if it paid less, as long as he didn't overdo things. But he was worried about the baby.' She closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach. 'How are my kids going to cope without their dad? My baby's never even going to know his dad... How am I going to manage without him?'

There wasn't much that Rowena could say. Only put her arms round the distraught woman and hold her through the storm of weeping.

'The others...?' Mrs Wetherby asked at last.

'They're comfortable.' It was as much as she could say without breaking patient confidentiality. 'We're going to keep them in overnight for observation. I'm so sorry. Is there anyone I can call for you?'

'My mum.' Mrs Wetherby's eyes filled with tears again. 'I want my mum.'

Rowena's stomach clenched. Yeah, she knew all about that. As a tiny child, she'd sobbed it over and over, as if saying it long enough would bring her mother back.

It never had.

'We'll ring her for you. Can I get you some coffee? Tea?'

'Can't face it.'

Of course. She was pregnant. 'Water, then?'

'Thank you.'

Rowena got her a glass of water, then rang Mrs Wetherby's mother and waited in her office until the older woman got to the hospital. She had to turn away as she saw them hold each other tightly. What would it be like, to have someone there for her like that?

Hell. What a bitch she was. The woman had just lost her husband. How could she be so selfish, so cruel as to be jealous of her?

But Mrs Wetherby had someone who really loved her. Someone who would always be there for her, no matter what. Something Rowena had never had, and longed for with all her soul. And that was yet another reason why she couldn't have a relationship with Luke. Because if anything happened to him—oh, God, if she lost him—there'd be no one there to shore her up. No one to stop her falling apart. And she couldn't take the risk.

It seemed for ever until Rowena's shift was over. Just as she was dragging her things out of her locker, the door to the rest room opened. She knew without looking who it was.

'What a day.' Luke looked at her, concerned. 'Are you all right?'

'Yeah. Just tired,' she said. Losing Josh had hurt. And seeing his wife crumple...it had hit her hard.

As if he'd read her mind, Luke said softly, 'We can't save them all. We did our best, and that's all I ask of my staff. Not miracles.'

His staff. She'd seen yet another side of him today. In Chile, he'd been the passionate lover. Last night, he'd been the tortured fallen angel. Today, he'd been the calm, professional doctor who'd stayed in charge of a nasty incident and had still made time to check that his staff had been coping, nurses and doctors alike.

'Come on. I'll shout you dinner.'

She shook her head. 'Thanks, but I'm not hungry.'

'You've gone past it. Yeah. But you need to eat, Ro.' He'd used the short version of her name again. That was good— it showed he thought of her as part of the team, saw her the same way the others in the hospital saw her. So maybe that meant he no longer saw her as he had in Chile. That he wanted her to forget what he'd told her last night. That was good, too—so why did she suddenly feel so forlorn?

'Hospital canteen. Now. And I'm pulling rank.'

She was too tired to argue—or to tease him back. She simply walked with him down to the canteen.

'Soup, stew and tea?' he asked softly.

'What?'

'Joke.' For a second he touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 'The real choice looks like jacket potato and chilli, or vegetarian lasagne and salad.'

Neither sounded appealing. She shook her head. 'Seriously, Luke, I appreciate the offer but I'm not in the mood. And I ought to get back to Ben.'

'OK. How about I see you home, I make you a coffee and we get a take-away?'

He wasn't going to take no for an answer, that much was obvious. And she was too tired to do anything but give in.

Ben was delighted to see her. He eyed Luke warily, then Luke crouched down to his level. 'No squeaky toy today. But I'll rub your tummy if you want.'

Ben nosed him, gave him a brief lick and returned to Rowena's side.

'Sit. I'll get coffee. And either I can cook for you or you can dig out a take-away menu and order something.'

'You can cook?' She hadn't expected that. And she wasn't a hundred per cent sure she was comfortable with the idea of Luke taking over in her kitchen.

'Of course I can. I've lived away from home for sixteen years.'

She did the maths. 'You're thirty-four?' That was young for a consultant. Especially one who'd taken nearly two years out of his career. Then it clicked. 'Charlie wasn't the real brainiac of the family, was he?'

Luke shrugged. 'I nearly failed my A-levels.'

'Because you did nothing until three months before your exams.' So the fact Luke had passed his A-levels after such a short, intense burst of study meant that he was clever. Seriously clever. She paused. He said he'd scraped into university. She had a nasty feeling about that, too. 'Where did you study medicine?'

'That's not important.'

'Cambridge,' she guessed. His face told her she was right. 'So you got top grades.'

'Look, it isn't a big deal. I told you, I gave up partying. That meant I had time to work.'

Like her. She'd gone crazy at eighteen, too. And had dedicated herself to her work from the second term of her first year at university, after her tutor had taken her for a coffee and told her bluntly that she was screwing her career in more ways than one. She'd thought about it. Realised that the comfort she'd been getting hadn't been enough to wipe out the hurt of Maria. But medicine was a case of heal and be healed. As a doctor, she could make a difference. Be someone who mattered. So she'd thrown herself into her studies and focused on her career ever since. 'Mm.'

He gave her a long look, as if assessing her; but she wasn't spilling her heart out. Not now, not ever.

'So. Is your fridge well stocked, or do we get a takeaway?'

'You've had a hard day as well. I don't expect you to cook for me.'

'Cooking relaxes me.'

Another surprise. 'Don't tell the department, or they'll have you making cakes for them every night. Di's a gingerbread fiend.'

'And you?'

'I don't eat cake.'

'Right.' He opened her fridge. 'Hmm.'

She did her best to crack a joke, keep it light. Stop herself panicking. 'Just tell me you're not going to cook soup or stew.'

He grinned. 'Oh, dear. My two best dishes.'

There was something so appealing about him, the way he peeked round the fridge door at her like that. Too appealing. A host of alarm bells clanged in the back of her mind.

'I could be boring and make you an omelette. Or, since you've got some chicken in here, polio con arroz—no, take a rain-check on that.' He batted his hand impatiently. 'It'd take too long. We're doing fast food tonight. Do you have a wok or a large frying-pan?'

'A wok.'

'Good. That means you probably have noodles, too. I can do something with that.' He opened two cupboards. 'Good supplies.' He lined up an array of spices, then fished a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured them both a glass. 'Salud,' he said.

'Salud?' she echoed.

He grinned. 'I'll have to teach you Spanish. It means "cheers":'

'Right.'

They were drinking wine, in her kitchen. How had this happened? 'Hang on. Didn't you say we were having coffee?'

'I changed my mind. Before you say anything, neither of us is on call and this is medicinal,' he retorted. 'Give me ten minutes and I'll feed you. Then you can argue with me.' Then he added something that sounded like, 'If you really want to.'

She decided not to challenge him and watched him, fascinated, as he shredded vegetables and chicken. Yet another side to him. Domesticated, at ease in the kitchen. A far cry from the man who'd poured his heart out to her the night before.

And he was surreptitiously feeding Ben scraps of chicken. Love me, love my dog, she thought with a smile. Then frowned. This wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't do relationships.

He was a competent cook. Not messy in the slightest. Nothing like what she'd expected. And the food was excellent.

'Thank you,' she said.

'Pleasure.' He stacked their plates together.

'What are you doing?'

'Washing up.'

'Leave it. You cooked—you don't have to clear up as well.'

'Do you know how good it was to cook in a decent kitchen instead of on the single ring-burner in my horrible bed-sit?' He tipped his head on one side. 'Let's compromise and do it together.'

What choice did she have?

'I'll wash, you wipe—you know where everything goes and there's nothing worse than losing things because someone's tried to be helpful.'

Either he was a mind-reader or he was right when he'd said earlier that they were alike. Too alike, maybe.

She switched to a neutral topic. 'Have you made up your mind about Lizzy's?'

'Yes. I want to stay, so I'm going house-hunting on my next day off.' He paused. 'You know the area better than I do.'

He wanted her to go with him? The shock must have been written all over her face, because he added, 'Please?'

'What about Ben?'

'Good point.' He dried his soapy hands and crouched down in front of the dog. 'Here's the deal. If you let me borrow your mum for the first half of her day off, we'll take you for a picnic and a run in the hills in the afternoon. And I'll share my sandwiches with you. Do we have a deal?' He solemnly shook the dog's paw. 'Excellent. Thank you.'

She was already laughing when she realised what he'd just manoeuvred her into doing. Spending the whole of her day off with him. How had he done that? She was still scowling when she felt something wet on her nose.

He'd just dabbed her with soapsuds.

'That's...' She stared at him, outraged.

He gave her a grin that said very clearly, What are you going to do about it?

She smiled, finished drying her plate and said nothing.

The second that he took his hands out of the water to fetch the wok, she darted to the sink, scooped up a handful of suds and threw them over him.

'War, huh?' He put the wok down.

The ensuing water fight meant they were both soaked. Ben dived between them, barking and wagging his tail, as if he realised that they were playing rather than really fighting.

And then Luke stopped. He groaned.

'What?'

'Your shirt's wet,' he said, his gaze travelling, oh, so slowly down her body and back up again.

So was his. Outlining the fact that his musculature was absolutely perfect. Her mouth went dry.

'Did you hear something snap just then?' he asked huskily.

'No.'

'I did. I think it might have been my self-control,' he informed her, and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her as if he were starving for her, and Rowena found herself kissing him back, matching him kiss for kiss, nibble for nibble.

He picked her up and carried her up the stairs, still kissing her. And then he paused. This was when she knew she should tell him to stop, to put her down, to walk out of her door. But she couldn't. She only said, 'Second on the left.'

It took thirty seconds for him to close the curtains and for both sets of clothing to hit the floor. Three more seconds before they were on the bed, skin to skin. Touching, kissing, stroking—and then, oh, bliss, he was inside her. Taking her higher, higher. She kissed him deep and hard as she came, and felt him shudder inside her.

It was a good ten minutes before she could summon up the energy to move. And even then she couldn't make herself do it. His arms were comfortable and warm. So she stayed put.

Though she couldn't give in completely. 'That wasn't supposed to happen.'

'I know.' He held her closer. 'It was your fault. Your shirt was wet. How was I supposed to resist?'

'You're the one who started the water fight,' she reminded him.

'No, I just dabbed suds on the end of your nose. You started the water fight.' He kissed her hair. 'I can't promise this won't happen again.'

'A water fight, you mean?'

He chuckled. 'You know exactly what I meant.'

She did.

There was a long, long pause. When she didn't correct him and tell him it would never happen again, he asked softly, 'Are you still going to come house-hunting with me?'

Find him a nest. It was the last thing she was capable of doing. She wasn't nesting material. But... 'OK. But I don't want anyone at work knowing about it.'

'Any of it,' he said.

It was more of a question than a qualifier. 'Any of it,' she agreed.

'OK. I'm not good at the...R word.'

'That makes two of us,' she admitted.

'So what do we do? Take it one day at a time, see how things go?'

'And keep it just between us.' Until they were sure where they were heading.

'I can do that.'

She didn't think she'd ever met anyone so much on her wavelength. It would be scary, if she didn't feel so safe with him. Which in itself was scary. She should be running a mile—a marathon!—from this. Yet she wasn't.

Maybe, she thought, she should just enjoy it while it lasted.

'One last question.'

'Fire away.'

'Your resignation. Can I consider it officially withdrawn now?'

Had he just slept with her as a way of persuading her to stay? The question must have been written on her face, because he shifted so he could rub his nose against hers. 'Take the "purely selfish" bit as read. I don't want you to go anywhere. But you're good at your job. You'd be too much of a loss to Lizzy's. So I'm thinking of the common good as well.'

How could she resist? 'All right. Retracted.'

'Good. I'll take it from the locked drawer tomorrow and shred it.' He kissed her lightly. 'I'll admit now, I already tore it in half. When's your day off?'

'Friday.'

'So's mine.' He smiled. 'We don't want to waste time when we could be out with Ben. If I give you a pile of details, you could weed out the hopeless ones and we can see the top five on Friday morning. I'll bring a picnic, then we can pick Ben up and head for the hills.'

He was domesticated enough to be a good cook, yet he had a wild streak. Luke scared her and excited her in equal proportions. 'And if it's raining?'

'Wear a waterproof. Ben'll be fine because spaniels love getting muddy. And my car's a rackety old estate car so I'm not bothered if he covers it in mud and dog hair.'

'Aren't consultants meant to own flash sports cars or four-wheel-drives?' she asked.

'Only the boring ones.' He slid his hand down her side. 'And I'm not boring. Let me show you...'

CHAPTER NINE

Rowena had sifted through the pile of estate agents' particulars and sorted them into three heaps—definites, absolutely nots and possible-if-he's-desperates. There were only three in the definites pile. Luke simply shrugged when she handed them to him. 'Then we'll look at three.'

'You've got to look at more than three houses before you make a decision, Luke!'

'Did you?' he asked.

'Well, no,' she admitted, 'but the one I bought was the only one in my budget that was nearish to the hospital. And it needed a lot of modernising. I haven't finished it yet.'

He gave her a sidelong look. 'If I help you finish yours, maybe...'

'I can help you do yours?' she finished, laughing.

He grinned back. 'Something like that.'

None of the three turned out to be what he wanted. The kitchen in one was too small; the garden in another was too small; and the third had nosy neighbours.

'It might be a personality clash—but the last thing you need is to move next door to the neighbour from hell,' Rowena said sensibly.

'Shame. The house was great.'

'There are some more possibles.'

'You said that was the "if you're really desperate" pile. I know my bed-sit's cramped, but it was always just temporary, until I'd decided if I wanted to stay here or not. Maybe we should wait and see if anything new comes up in the next few weeks.' Luke had a nasty feeling he already knew what kind of house he wanted. But the owner wasn't selling. And sharing wasn't an option.

Not yet.

No. He pulled himself up sharply. He wasn't going to go there. It was too soon. Everything was just too new. They'd agreed to take it one day at a time. He wasn't going to ask for more than that.

But the word echoed in his mind. Yet.

Over the next few weeks, Luke couldn't remember having been so happy. Ever. Not even before Charlie had died. By day he was the consultant in a fast-moving hospital, working with a great bunch of people who actually worked as a team—there were no office politics to spoil the department. Except for Alisha, and even she wasn't that much of a problem once Luke had learned what made her tick. He gave her figures—and told her exactly what the department needed to make those figures look more like what she wanted. She couldn't argue with her precious figures, so she left him alone.

By night... Oh, nights definitely were the best. He managed to sneak in some quiet time with Rowena, whether it was simply flaking out on the sofa, with something relaxing on the stereo and Ben snuggled up next to them, or out to see a good film followed by a meal somewhere. Her taste in music, films and even pizza toppings were broadly similar to his. And he found he could relax with her, just be himself.

They still hadn't found him a house, but he'd stopped minding about his cramped bed-sit. He was only ever there to sleep. If he wanted to cook, he wheedled Rowena into letting him loose in her kitchen. He tended to have baths at her house, too—usually with her. And he could live without a garden if it meant spending his days off on the Pennines or up in the Lake District with Rowena and Ben—or even, on one memorable day, doing the gloss paint on the window-frames of the room she was still renovating. He'd never thought DIY could be sexy Until he saw Rowena wearing a pair of very ancient, ripped jeans and one of his old shirts.

The only sticking point was that she still wanted to keep their relationship quiet at Lizzy's. Luke could understand that. She was a very private person and she'd hate it if she was the. centre of hospital gossip. They worked together, and it probably wasn't sensible to mix work and pleasure.

At the same time, he wanted her to acknowledge him as her man. Whenever they went out with the department, he had to make sure he sat as far away as possible from her, because he couldn't trust himself not to hold her hand or kiss her. They'd come near to being outed the night they'd gone ten-pin bowling and she'd scored so many ducks that he'd taken pity on her and shown her how to do it—he hadn't been able to resist curving one hand over her bottom as he'd stood behind her and guided her bowling arm.

Maybe this week, he promised himself. Maybe this week he'd ask her to make it more official between them.

Rowena couldn't remember ever being this happy. She loved her job, she loved her home, and she loved how she was spending most of her free time.

With her man and her dog.

'You're in a particularly good mood this morning,' Patty, the receptionist, remarked when Rowena came over to her desk. 'Anything special happen over the weekend?'

Luke MacKenzie. Not that Rowena was going to admit such a choice piece of gossip to the queen of the hospital grapevine. 'It's nearly the end of summer and it's gloriously sunny today?' she suggested.

'Don't. It'll rain now you've said that!'

Rowena grinned. 'We're working, so it doesn't really matter. Who's my next patient, then?'

'Oscar Brady, seven months old, tummy pain. Follow your ears,' Patty said, nodding to the anxious-looking woman with the screaming baby.

'Hello—Mrs Brady, isn't it?' Rowena said when she got to the woman's side.

The woman nodded.

'I'm Rowena Thompson, the senior registrar. If you'd like to come through to the cubicles with me, I'll have a look at Oscar and see how I can help him.' The baby suddenly stopped screaming, and Rowena noticed that he looked pale, floppy and dehydrated.

'How long has he had colic?' she asked.

'It's only been bad today. But I thought colic was supposed to stop when they were three months?'

'Proper colic usually stops then, but you can get colicky pains at any age,' Rowena said. 'How often is he having the attacks?'

'About every fifteen minutes.'

'And how long do they last?'

'I don't know,' Mrs Brady said. 'Two, three minutes? It feels like for ever. I know I should have seen my GP but they couldn't fit me in, and I can't stand to see him in pain.'

'Hey, it's OK. That's what we're here for. I need to ask you a few questions to help me find out what's wrong, if that's OK?' Rowena said as they reached the cubicle. She motioned to Mrs Brady to have a seat and keep Oscar on her lap. 'Has he had any dirty nappies today?'

'Yes.'

'What were they like?'

'Yucky. I thought it might be a tummy bug, but then he started pulling his legs up to his chest and kicking and screaming.'

Rowena nodded. 'Has he been sick at all?'

'A few times—but 1 can't get him to take any water in his bottle, and he's off his food as well.'

'Did you notice anything unusual in his nappies?' Rowena was beginning to think it might be intussusception—the classic triad of symptoms included colicky abdominal pain, vomiting and stools that looked like redcurrant jelly, caused by a mixture of mucus, sloughed-off muscosa and shed blood. The bloody nappies only showed in around a third of cases, and she didn't want to panic Mrs Brady unnecessarily.

'No. They were just yucky.'

Rowena smiled reassuringly at her. 'That's fine. May I examine him?'

At the mother's nod, Rowena gently examined the little boy. He was quiet at the moment, so it was easier to palpate his stomach. As she'd half suspected, there was a sausage-shaped mass in the right upper quadrant of his abdomen— known as Dance's sign. The good thing was that there was no sign of peritonitis—his abdomen wasn't rigid and there was no sign of guarding.

'Mrs Brady, I think your little boy has something called intussusception—it's when part of the bowel telescopes in on itself and it's causing an obstruction. That's why he's in pain.'

'What causes it?'

'We don't know why it happens—it might be linked with a recent infection or starting solids.'

She bit her lip. 'So it's something I've done?'

'Not at all,' Rowena reassured her. 'It's more common in this age group, and more boys are affected than girls.'

'And you can help?'

'Yes. Though we need to get it sorted out now, or he might end up with an infection in his abdomen.' She stroked the baby's cheek. 'He's a bit dehydrated, but again that's not your fault—you tried to get him to take some water, and when he kept refusing it you did the right thing by bringing him here. What I'm going to do is give him an ultrasound so I can have a proper look at his bowels. It won't hurt, as it's the same kind of thing that you had done when you were pregnant. If the blockage shows where I'm expecting it, we'll try to sort it out by giving him an enema.'

'An enema?' Mrs Brady looked shocked.

'It's going to look a bit uncomfortable, but it's nothing compared to what he's feeling now. What we do is put a tube into his bottom and release some air very carefully into his intestine. This usually releases the obstruction and puts the bowel back where it should be.'

'What if it doesn't?'

'Then we'll have to operate—what the surgeon will do is squeeze Oscar's intestines very gently to push out the inner segment and take out any part of the bowel that isn't working properly. Either way, we'll keep him in for a couple of days. He won't be able to eat or drink, to give his bowel a rest, so he'll be on a drip to stop him getting dehydrated. He'll also have a tube down his nose into his stomach—what we call a nasogastric or NG tube—to take away any build-up of fluid. The paediatric team will be able to tell you about what he can eat and how you can re-introduce solid food.'

Mrs Brady bit her lip. 'So he's not going to die?'

'He'll be fine. I'm going to get the portable ultrasound— you give Oscar a cuddle and I'll be back in a minute, OK?'

Rowena passed Luke in the corridor on her way back with the scanner. 'Just the man I wanted to see.'

'Oh, yes?' He lifted an eyebrow.

'Behave!' She grinned at him. 'Actually, I want to borrow you for a minute. I've got a baby with suspected intussusception.'

'Hence the ultrasound. Surgical case?'

'Probably not—if I'm happy with the ultrasound, I'm going to try an air enema first. I've explained everything to the mum and calmed her down, but it's not a nice procedure. I could do with a hand to keep the baby calm and distract the mum.'

'Sure.'

Rowena introduced Luke to Mrs Brady. Oscar was screaming and lifting his legs up again, and Rowena noticed that Mrs Brady was very close to tears.

'We'll sort him out, don't worry,' she said gently. 'Luke's going to help me with the ultrasound. If you've got any questions at any time, just ask—that's what we're here for.' She soothed the baby, and as soon as the colicky fit was over, she did the ultrasound. 'Can you see this area here?' she asked, pointing to a mass on the screen.

Mrs Brady nodded.

'That's why Oscar's feeling so awful. It's what I suspected—intussusception.' She stroked the baby's head. 'OK, Oscar, we're going to do something that's a little bit uncomfortable, but you'll feel so very much better afterwards. No more of that nasty pain in your tummy.' The baby clutched at her finger and she smiled. 'He's gorgeous. We'll get that lovely gummy smile back on his face today.'

'He seems to like you,' Mrs Brady said.

'He's calm with you, so perhaps I'd better be the one who puts the tube in,' Luke suggested.

'Fine. Now, Mrs Brady, just keep watching the screen and you'll see exactly what's happening. It's a bit like having a balloon that's got itself in a bit of a tangle, but when you put the right amount of air through, it unkinks itself.' Rowena distracted Mrs Brady's attention to the ultrasound, away from the procedure Luke was doing.

'Here we go. Can you rescan the area, Rowena?' Luke asked.

She did, and they watched as the mass slowly disappeared.

'All done,' Luke said, gently removing the tube.

'And that's it?' Mrs Brady asked.

Rowena nodded. 'That's it. I'm going to do the drip now and get him admitted to the children's ward, and he's going to be fine.'

This time, Mrs Brady let the tears flow. 'He looked so ill this morning. And now... How can I ever thank you?'

'Bring him in to see us when he's better, so we can have a cuddle and get the full benefit of his lovely gummy smile,' Rowena said. 'That's the best thanks we can have.'

She likes babies, Luke thought. A lot. Before he realised it, he was wondering if she'd ever thought about having babies of her own.

Panic kicked low down in his stomach. How could he accuse her of being broody? OK, so she was the right age for her biological clock to start ticking, but it was probably just professional interest. They'd never talked about it, but he guessed that she'd spent the other half of her year as a house officer in the paediatric department. ¹

Then a seriously scary thought leapt into his head. I'd like to have babies. With her.

Hell. They hadn't even said the L word yet. They'd simply taken things a day at a time, just like they'd planned. But they'd been good days. Seriously good days. And, Luke realised, he wanted them to continue for the rest of his life.

Maybe it was time they talked. Time he found out how she really felt about him. About them.

Later, that evening, Luke was curled up on the sofa with Rowena. 'You were good with the little one today.'

'Which little one?'

How could she forget that quickly? Or maybe she'd seen several babies over the course of her shift. 'The one with intussusception.'

'Oscar?' She tipped her head back so she could see his face, and smiled. 'I like babies. It's upsetting when they come in, but I love it when I've made them better and they smile at me.'

He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. 'You're an old softy at heart, aren't you?'

'Of course not. I'm a doctor.'

'A doctor who likes babies and dogs.' He didn't have to say the word 'rescue'. 'QED.'

She grinned. 'You've got a soft centre, too.'

'Have not. I spent over a year near ice fields. I'm tough.'

'Yeah,' she scoffed. 'Of course you are.'

'If you're going to cheek me...' He attacked, swiftly and without mercy. He tickled her until she was shrieking with laughter and Ben was bouncing round them both, barking.

'OK, OK, I give in! You're tough,' she said, still giggling.

He rubbed his nose against hers. 'Ro, I 1—' The word stuck in his throat. Why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he. go that last step and tell her? He knew how she felt. She showed it in the way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she spent all her spare time with him. She'd let him into her life. But just supposing he was wrong? If he said it now, and it was too soon, she'd back away. He'd lose her. 'I like being with you,' he said.

'Ditto.'

Now. Ask her now.

But it felt as if someone had stuffed his mouth with cotton wool. His brain, too. All he could think of to do was to kiss her. As always, the heat ignited between them, and he ended up carrying her to her bed again.

He knew her body intimately. Knew where she liked to be touched, knew the right pressure to use with his mouth and his hands, knew how she tasted. But he didn't know what was going on inside her head. There were whole areas of her life that were no go. Such as why there weren't any family photographs on her mantelpiece, just one of Ben. She never, .ever talked about her family.

Until she trusted him with her past, she wouldn't trust him with her future. Wouldn't trust him to create a family with her.

And he wanted to create a family with her, he realised. What he felt for Rowena was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The last time he'd thought himself in love it had been respect, liking and physical attraction. This was something else. Deeper. Being without her would be like...

Like losing Charlie.

He never, ever wanted to feel that way again.

But it was too late to call things off now. Breaking up with her would be like breaking his soul into little pieces. He just had to hope that he could win her trust, win her love—and she'd let him into her life completely.

Starting now. He drew her closer. 'What were you like as a little girl?'

Was it his imagination, or had she just stiffened in his arms?

'Like any other girl, I suppose,' she said.

'No, I mean, really. Did you always want to be a doctor?'

'Hadn't really thought about it. Possibly.'

'Were your parents doctors?'

'No. Luke, what is all this?'

She sounded distinctly frosty. He backtracked, fast. 'Just wondered, that's all. My mother sent me a photo of Charlie and me when we were toddlers. I...just wondered what you were like as a toddler.'

'I had a temper,' Rowena said.

Was she opening up to him, at last, or was that a warning? He couldn't tell from her tone—or from a quick glance at her face. 'Hey. I didn't mean to upset you.'

'You haven't.'

Now, there was a lie, if ever he'd heard one. He'd definitely pushed her past her comfort zone. Either she'd had an unhappy childhood or she was estranged from her parents and didn't want anyone interfering. Until he worked out which, he'd tread a little more carefully.

He leaned over to kiss her. 'You're beautiful, did you know that?'

She didn't answer.

'And I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.'

'You haven't.'

He drew her hand to his mouth. How he wanted to stay with her tonight, keep her warm and safe in his arms. But he also knew there was no point in asking. She still wasn't ready to go public. And if he pushed any harder, she'd snap another line of defences into place. He just had to wait for her to trust him.

He just hoped she wouldn't make him wait too long.

CHAPTER TEN

The alarm beeped loudly and Rowena hit the snooze button. She'd slept badly last night after Luke had left. Why had he pushed her so hard about her family? If he hadn't, she would have asked him to stay. As it was, she needed some space.

She'd lied to him. Told him it didn't matter, he hadn't hurt her. But he had. Why, why, why did he need to know about her past? Or maybe she should have told him the truth. She didn't have a family. End of story. Except she didn't think he'd leave it at that. Maybe he would, for a little while, but then he'd be curious. Ask again. Why didn't she have a family?

The only answer was that she wasn't lovable enough.

Ah, hell. She really didn't want to rake up all that again. She thought she'd come to terms with it. How pathetic was she, still having abandonment issues at the age of thirty? It had happened twenty-eight years ago. Well, if you counted the second time around, twelve years ago. Whichever way you looked at it, she ought to be over it by now.

She rolled onto her stomach and wished she hadn't. She could still smell Luke's scent on her pillows. And that was a complication. She didn't want to need someone in her life. She didn't want to crave Luke's arms round her, the feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of his body. She'd coped alone for most of her life. It had worked. Why change things now?

In a thoroughly bad temper, she turned off the alarm properly and stalked to the shower. She soaped herself vigorously and winced as she hit a tender spot on her left breast.

A tender spot? That was odd. She wasn't prone to breast tenderness, even just before a period. And when was the last time she'd checked her breasts properly? She knew all the stuff about breast awareness; and she'd always done it on the first of the month. But after Peggy's death she'd let it slip a bit. It had slipped even more in the months of training for the trek, and she certainly hadn't done it since she'd been back.

She checked herself swiftly and frowned. She definitely didn't remember that lump being there before. It was probably a knot of muscle. After all, she'd trained hard before Chile, had more muscles. She swiftly checked her right breast. In exactly the same place, she'd find a lump. Just as she had the last time she'd panicked, a few years back. Right?

Wrong.

Which meant the lump-that-might-not-be-a-lump was a lump.

Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed it back. 'Calm down,' she instructed herself loudly. 'You know most breast lumps are benign. It's probably a cyst.' She prodded the lump experimentally. It was definitely mobile. Smooth. And sore.

But supposing it wasn't benign? For all she knew, breast cancer could run in her family. Rowena had no idea if Maria had ever had it, or Maria's sisters—hell, she didn't even know if Maria had sisters. Had Maria's mother had it, her aunt, her grandmother, her cousins...?

'Stop it. It's nothing to worry about,' she told herself through clenched teeth.

But supposing it was?

She couldn't put Luke through this. He'd already lost his twin to leukaemia. If she had breast cancer...then telling him what was wrong would be like ripping off all the new skin that was just starting to form over his scars.

He'd gone off the rails after Charlie had died. Big time. ^: He'd loved Charlie. And Rowena knew he loved her, too. He hadn't said it—he'd stopped himself, probably guessing that he'd scare her off if he made a declaration too soon. He'd changed 'I love you' into 'I like being with you'. Kept it light and non-threatening. But she knew without him having to say it in words. It showed in the way he looked at her, the way he kissed her. He loved her.

And, OK, the five-year survival rate for breast cancer was a hell of a lot better than it had been twenty years ago—or even ten years ago. She knew that. But if it was cancer, how did she know that it hadn't already started to spread, that she hadn't developed metastases in her lymph glands, her blood, her lungs, tiny deadly cells that would grow in secret until it was too late? And then he'd have to watch her die. Just as he'd watched Charlie die. How could he cope with losing a second person he loved to cancer?

She couldn't do that to him. 'I love you, Luke,' she said softly. 'I love you too much to hurt you.'

So that didn't leave her much choice. She was going to have to deal with this on her own. Keep it to herself and cope as if nothing was happening, until she got the results. And, if the results were bad, she'd have to end it. It would hurt him, but not as badly as having to watch her fade day by day. Not as badly as having to follow her coffin into the church, walk down the aisle behind her in a vicious reversal of the wedding ceremony.

Calm. She had to stay calm. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beat her fists against the wall. But she knew that wouldn't solve anything. 'Do what you've always done,' she told herself. 'Be sensible.' Ha. If she'd been sensible, she wouldn't have got involved with Luke in the first place. She certainly wouldn't have let him into her life here in Manchester.

She climbed out of the shower, dried herself and checked the time. It was still too early to ring her GP for an appointment. But she'd get an emergency slot this morning, ask for a referral. Which meant she needed to call in sick... No. Either Luke would think she was sulking about last night—

which she wasn't—or she'd have to tell the truth. Neither was an option. Besides, she was on a late shift today. All she had to do was think up an excuse for being late.

'OK, Rowena. Here's what you're going to do,' she told herself aloud. 'Get dressed, dry your hair, have breakfast, ring your GP, get an appointment, then ring work and say you'll be late in because...oh, because you got a burst pipe this morning and you have to wait for the plumber...'

She forced herself to follow her list, but her limbs felt like lead. She'd never realised before that fear could almost paralyse you. All she could think about was the lump. What if, what if, what if?

And there wasn't anyone she could ring. No mother who'd drop everything and come to comfort her baby. No big sister she could ask for advice. No little brother who'd tell her piles of silly jokes to take her mind off it. She had no one except Ben.

Ben. Oh, God. What would happen to her dog? How would he cope with being rehomed? Would he simply refuse to eat and pine away? Would he have to be put down?

She clenched her fists so tightly, she thought the bones in her hands would crack. 'Stop it,' she told herself. 'You don't know for sure. You're panicking over nothing.'

Except it wasn't 'nothing', was it? The lump was there. Small, hard and round. Easy to mistake for muscle—that was probably why Luke hadn't found it. He'd touched every square centimetre of her body, and he hadn't found it.

'Stop it,' she hissed again.

But her thoughts just trudged on and on. She'd written her will. Left everything to Cathy's kennels.

Cathy. Maybe she could tell—

No. Cathy had enough on her plate, worrying about how she was going to fund her dog rescue work. Rowena had to do this on her own. And she was going to do it. One step at a time.

Get dressed. Dry hair. Next on the list, breakfast.

As if she could eat anything.

Even if she did manage to swallow anything, she knew it would come straight back up again. She made herself a cup of tea, then slid down the kitchen cabinet and sat on the floor. Ben, clearly realising that something was up, climbed onto her lap and pushed his nose against her face.

'I've got to stay well, for your sake. I can't give in.' Her voice was shaking, and clearly the dog sensed how upset she was because he licked her face and settled closer. 'I'm probably panicking about nothing. Just like when I was a student—we all used to read the textbooks and convince ourselves we were developing symptoms of rare and deadly diseases.'

Except she actually had a symptom. Which might or might not be a problem. The only way to find out for sure was through FNAC—fine needle aspiration cytology, where a sample of the cells from the tumour was taken, using a very thin needle and a syringe, then examined in the lab.

She buried her face in Ben's fur, needing the comfort, and it was a good fifteen minutes before she was together enough to pick up the phone. The receptionist at the doctor's surgery must have heard the fear in Rowena's voice because she managed to give her an appointment for an hour and a half s time.

Ninety minutes. How the hell was she going to fill ninety whole minutes? Five thousand, four hundred seconds, every single one of which was suddenly on a go-slow?

Work through the list, she reminded herself. Appointment. Tick. Now for the hard one. She picked up the phone and dialled the direct line for ED's reception. It was engaged. Ha. Typical. 'Deep breaths, slow down, sound cheerful,' she muttered to herself as she redialled. Still engaged. She hit the 'redial' button again. At last, a ring.

'Good morning, Emergency Department,' Patty said.

Rowena could have cried at the sound of a familiar voice. 'Patty, it's Rowena. I'm going to be late in today—I'm waiting for a plumber.' How easy it was to lie.

'A plumber?'

. 'Burst pipes. They're a bit beyond my DIY skills.' Keep it simple, she reminded herself. Not too much detail. You'll be grilled about it later.

'OK. I'll let Luke know. Hope your plumber turns up. The last one I rang kept me waiting for six hours and still didn't turn up!'

'Hey, don't jinx me. See you later, Patty.'

Rowena's hand was shaking as she replaced the receiver. She glanced at the clock and saw the second hand drag painfully by. Every time she looked at the clock, thinking surely five minutes had gone by, it had been barely five seconds. In the end, she scrubbed the grouting in her kitchen splashback tiles with an old toothbrush and some bleach. The sawing movements were vaguely comforting, and at least it stopped her glancing at the clock.

At last it was time to head for the surgery. She was five minutes early for her appointment and the GP was already running ten minutes late. Rowena had to make an effort to control her breathing as she kept one eye on the clock, on that slow, slow second hand.

And then it was the moment she feared yet needed. Her appointment.

'I've found a lump in my breast,' she said, the words rushing out even before she'd had time to sit down.

'How long have you had it?'

'I don't know. I found it this morning, but I haven't checked myself for a while.'

The GP smiled at her. 'I'm glad you came in rather than trying to pretend it's not there or worrying yourself sick and being too scared to see me. The chances are it's benign— most lumps in women of your age are cysts or fibroade nomas, as you probably already know. Though it's always harder to fit the statistics to your own case, isn't it?'

And how, Rowena thought.

'But even if it isn't, the earlier we catch it, the better the prognosis. May I examine you?'

Rowena nodded. 'I don't normally have lumpy breasts. And it's sore.'

'Right.' The GP examined her gently. 'It's mobile, smooth and painful, so it's probably a cyst. It'll go away in its own time.'

'I've seen the studies,' Rowena said, 'linking cysts with the development of cancer. So if it is a cyst—' and she dared not let herself believe it was '—I want it removed.'

'Is there cancer in your family?'

'I don't know. I'm adopted.' She hadn't been, but it was easier to say she had—it saved all the pity and the well-meaning questions.

'Right. I'm going to ring up and refer you for an ultrasound and needle aspiration,' the GP said. 'You'll get an appointment this week or next. Try not to worry too much. I know it's easier said than done.'

'Yeah,' Rowena admitted wryly. 'Thank you. For seeing me so quickly, and giving me a referral.'

'That's what I'm here for. If you're worried about anything, just give us a ring. We can put you in touch with a counsellor, too, if you like.'

Rowena couldn't face it. 'Thanks, but I'll be OK,' she lied.

Somehow, she made it to work. Surprisingly, she wasn't that late.

'Get your plumbing sorted?' Patty asked.

'Plumbing?' Then Rowena remembered her cover story. 'Yes, thanks.'

Luckily they were busy, and the string of patients helped her to focus on just about anything other than the lump in her breast or Luke. Lots of minor things that she could deal with on her own, without needing back-up. A wrenched ankle, an infected splinter, a plastic bead wedged up a child's nose, a dislocated elbow and an abscess that needed draining all kept her occupied.

Then her luck ran out. She left the cubicles, intending to see her next patient, and almost walked straight into Luke.

'Got time to grab a quick coffee?' he asked.

'Sorry, we're really busy today.'

'The rush has tailed off, and you haven't had a break since you came on shift.'

'Thanks for the offer, but no.'

His mouth thinned. 'This is because of last night, isn't it? I knew I'd upset you. Look, I'm sorry, Ro. Come and have a coffee with me and I'll apologise properly. I'll even buy you a muffin.'

'Thanks, but you know I don't eat cake.' And she didn't want to have coffee with him. Well, she did. She wanted to be with him—God, how she wanted to be with him, lose herself in the fabulous chemistry between them—but it wouldn't be fair, using him to take her mind off things. What if he started nagging her again? If he pushed her right now, she'd crack. Tell him about the lump. Cry all over him. And that wouldn't be fair either. She couldn't make him as worried as she was. Couldn't make him share that scared, sick feeling, make his palms sweaty and his skin feel too tight. It might be nothing, and she'd have dragged him through all those memories, all that pain, for nothing.

And if it was something... She'd deal with it then.

'A cheese scone, then.'

Why did he have to be so persistent? Her temper snapped. 'What's so difficult to understand about the word "no"?'

He frowned. 'Rowe—'

'Please, just take your hand off my arm,' she cut in, her voice only just the right side of calm. If his skin stayed in contact with hers for one more second, she'd end up begging him to hold her and stop her feeling so frightened. She couldn't do that. Just be normal, be natural, she told herself. Do it for his sake. Step by step.

He gave her a strained look but, to her relief, he did as she asked and took his hand away. She bolted, and managed to avoid him for the rest of his shift. He'd left a note in her locker, but she ignored it. When she got home that night, she erased the message he'd left on her answering machine, without replying. She switched all the lights off, just in case he decided to come round and talk to her face to face—no lights meant she was out or asleep and he'd respect that, wouldn't he? She couldn't cope with a confrontation right now. Not until she'd managed to get her self-control back.

The next morning, she was on another late shift. Her phone rang several times, and she ignored it—even when she heard Luke say, 'Rowena, if you're there, if you're back from taking Ben for a run or something, please, pick up. I need to talk to you.'

He might need to talk to her, but she really couldn't face talking to him.

He sighed. 'OK, so you're not there. Ring me when you get back. Please?'

At least the post brought her some good news: she had an appointment for cytology the following week. It was on her day off, too, so she wouldn't have to make some excuse for switching her duty.

Luke hauled her into his office the minute she got to work.

'Spit it out. What's going on?'

'I don't know what you mean,' she said.

'Look, I know I hurt you the other night, and I've apologised. I won't push you again. I'll respect your boundaries. Why won't you give me the chance to make it up to you?'

Because, if you stay with me, the chances are you're headed for heartbreak, she thought. But I can't tell you what's going on. Not without answering questions I can barely face myself. 'I need-some space,' she hedged.

'OK. You've got it. But it's good between us, Ro. I like being with you and I thought you liked being with me.'

Oh, I do. More than that: I love you. And that scares me. It scares me even more when I think about what might be happening right now. 'Yeah, well. Look, I've got patients to see.'

'Rowena...'

She left before her control slipped. She was going to get through this. She was.

What the hell was the matter with her? Luke's jaw tightened. OK, so he'd got it wrong. He'd pushed her too hard to tell him about her past. Someone had clearly done a number on her at some point, and she wasn't ready to talk about it.

But he'd apologised for hurting her. He'd tried his best to make it up to her. He'd even offered her space! What else did she want from him?

Later, he vowed, he'd find out what the problem was. If need be, he'd pull rank and drag her off for a quiet coffee. Get her to open up, to trust him. Because, if she didn't trust him, if she kept putting distance between them, their relationship wasn't going to stand a chance.

*

The day dragged on and on and on. Rowena managed to keep her mind on her patients—just—but by the end of her shift she was drained to the point of collapse. All she wanted to do was go home and curl up with her dog. Though she knew that she ought to push herself to do something. Preferably something that needed a lot of concentration, so she wouldn't have time to think about the lump. Or about Luke.

Just when she was about to go off duty, Luke opened his office door. 'A word?'

Oh, hell. 'You promised me space,' she said as he closed the door behind her.

'I know. And I'm trying. I'm really, really trying.'

'Weren't you supposed to be off duty hours ago?'

He shrugged. 'I thought I'd wait for you. See if you wanted to go for a curry or something.'

'I'm tired. I just want to go home.'

'Maybe I can come with you. Cook you something,' he offered.

And subject her to more relentless pressure about her past? Hell. If he carried on like this, she'd tell him everything, and she just couldn't.

Suddenly all the day's miseries came to a head. 'Luke, I know you mean well, but no.' She shook her head. 'I'm sorry. I don't want to see you any more outside work.'

'Why?'

'Because I don't do relationships. These past few weeks...it's not what I want.' Even as she lied to him, she felt her heart ripping into tiny shreds. 'I think it's run its course.'

He looked stricken. 'Rowena, don't do this to me. To us.'

'I'm sorry. And, believe me, I hope you find someone who can make you truly happy. It just won't be me. From now on, we're just colleagues. Which is how it should have been from the start. I'm sorry I led you on.' As he opened his mouth to argue, she delivered the final lie. 'I was trying to be kind. I got it wrong. Sorry.'

And she walked out before he could see the tears in her eyes.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next day was agony for Rowena. Working so near to Luke, yet so far away from him. Clearly she'd done a good enough acting job to convince him that she didn't care about him, because he didn't bother coming to see her at the end of his shift. He didn't leave her a note in her locker or a message on her answering-machine either.

Half of her was dismayed that he could let their relationship go so easily. Yet the other half of her was relieved. At least now he wasn't going to have to face the worst. And things could have been a lot worse. If she'd had a family of her own—children, even—how much more difficult it would have been to face things? So many people would have been affected. How would she have been able to deal with it, knowing that maybe she wouldn't be there to see her beloved children growing up or see them in their own children's faces? Knowing that they might have to grow up as she had, without their mother to love them and protect them?

This way, it was just her and Ben, and she knew that Cathy would look after her dog—give him the very best care. So her affairs were all neat and tidy.

Just like her house. Absolutely spotless. She'd cleaned hard enough and long enough after she'd got home to wear herself out physically. Though her mind wouldn't quite switch off and let her sleep. She still had a week to go before her appointment—and then she'd have to wait for the results. Every millisecond was going to drag.

But if her fears were confirmed, time was going to start galloping in a big way. And she wasn't quite sure how she was going to cope with it when it happened.

*

Luke was decidedly cool towards Rowena for the rest of the week. And he flirted with every single one of the nurses, she noticed. Particularly on the occasions when he realised that Rowena was in full view and could see what he was doing.

She wasn't sure what hurt most—the way he chatted up other women so glibly or the fact that he was so obviously trying to prove to her that he didn't care. When he didn't think she was looking, she saw the misery on his face. The longing. His heart was clearly as battered as her own. This was torture. But what else could she have done? Telling him the truth was out of the question.

Home was just as bad as work. Ben actually .walked around the house looking for Luke, and his tail drooped every time he realised that Luke wasn't there. 'I've hurt you as well, haven't I?' she asked, scratching behind his ears. 'I'm sorry. But I didn't know what else to do. Right now I could do with some of Peggy's common sense.' She rubbed her arm across her eyes. 'I'm not going to cry. We're going to be fine, Ben. Just fine. It's all going to be OK.'

But her words sounded hollow. And she didn't believe a single one of them.

At last, it was Rowena's day off—and the day of her appointment. It felt weird, walking into her workplace as a patient instead of a doctor. She even knew Joe Plummer, the specialist, socially.

'Would you rather someone else saw you?' he asked, as if guessing it might be embarrassing for her.

'No, it's fine.' She forced a smile to her lips—a smile she didn't feel. 'At least I know you, so I don't have to worry if my doctor is any good. And I know you'll respect patient confidentiality and not spill the beans to my department.'

He chuckled. 'Why, thank you for the compliment, Dr Thompson.' Then he was all sober, competent doctor. Just what she needed. 'So what's the problem?'

'Lump. My GP says it's probably a cyst.'

'And you're worried it's cancer.''

He'd actually said it. The C word. The word she'd been trying to avoid since she'd seen her GP. She took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Yes.'

'OK. You know the stats. The chances are it's fine.'

'Even if it is, I want it removed. I don't know my family history and I've got no way of finding out.' Maria had made it clear last time that she wouldn't see Rowena again under any circumstances. And that included exceptional ones, like these.

'The stats are in your favour. Just remember that, OK? May I examine you?'

She nodded.

His hands were cool and professional. 'It's smooth and mobile. Painful?'

'Yep. I started my period yesterday, and the lump hurt like hell all last week. Though that might have been psychological.'

'It might have been hormonal,' he suggested. 'And you haven't eaten properly for a week, or you've been living on chocolate, right?'

'Yes to the first, no to the second. I don't have that sweet a tooth.'

'OK. I think you can relax. It's probably a breast mouse— a fibroadenoma.' They were sometimes called breast mice because they tended to move around and sometimes couldn't be felt by the doctor doing the examination.

Probably. That was the key word. He couldn't give her a cast-iron guarantee, could he?

'I'm still going to run the rest of the investigations, to make absolutely sure. We'll give you an ultrasound. There's no point in giving you a mammogram because you're under thirty-five and your tissue is too dense to give a decent image on the X-ray. And then it's the nasty bit, I'm afraid—the FNAC. I hope you're not scared of needles.'

She tried to make a joke of it. 'Just tell me it's not as big as an anaesthetic needle.'

'No! It's a very fine needle,' he promised. 'Nineteen gauge—that's thinner than the ones you use in ED to draw blood. I'll do three aspirations so the sample's representative.'

'Three. You're going to stick a needle in me three times.' She grimaced.

He patted her shoulder. 'Hey. It's not that bad. Not as bad as the blood samples you take—and you tell people that won't hurt, don't you?'

At her glare, he added, 'You might feel a bit of minor discomfort, but it'd sting a lot more if I gave you a local anaesthetic. Besides, local anaesthetics can affect the sample. Can I just check—you haven't used talcum powder, deodorant, lotion or perfume under your arms or on your breasts today?'

'No. I read the leaflet that came with my appointment letter.'

He smiled. 'That makes you this month's star patient. And you haven't taken any aspirin in the last five days?'

'No. Just the Pill.'

'Good. Now, you might feel a bit tender afterwards, you might get a bruise and you might have a little bit of localised bleeding. And I hope you're not planning to go back to work today.'

She shook her head. 'It's my day off.'

'Just take it easy for the next twenty-four hours, OK? No mountain climbing or anything.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course I won't. I've done the trek.' Where she'd met Luke. She shoved the thought away. 'I'm not in training now. I'll spend the rest of the day as a couch potato.'

'Good.'

'When do I get my results?'

He grimaced. 'Ah. That's the bad news, I'm afraid. They're short-staffed at the lab, so it'll be tomorrow. Do you want me to ring them down to you?'

So the news would leak out into the department? No way. Rowena shook her head. 'I'll come up on my break to get them.'

'OK. But my guess is that you'll get a C2 on the report. That's the definition of a benign lesion, so it means a review and another ultrasound in six months' time.'

'If the patient doesn't request excision,' she said. 'And I do, remember. I want it out.'

'OK. We'll talk about it tomorrow,' he said. 'Once we've got the results.'

He did the ultrasound first, and showed her the screen. 'You can see it there—a white mass. It's a solid lump, not a cyst.'

So it was either a fibroadenoma or a tumour. 'OK. Let's do the FNAC.' She wanted it over and done with. And, preferably, for the next twenty-four hours to vanish in the blink of an eye.

He was as gentle as possible, but it still hurt, and Rowena wished she had someone with her. Someone to hold her hand, distract her from the fact that a needle was going through her skin into the lump. For a moment she even put a name to that someone: Luke MacKenzie.

But that was selfish, wrong, and not going to happen. She gritted her teeth, tried to look the other way, and tried even harder not to flinch when Joe took the second and third samples.

'All done.' Gently, he put a dressing over the wound. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Yes. And thanks, Joe. I appreciate it.'

'Any time.' He gave her a sidelong look. 'And when you're not my patient any more...'

'I'll buy you a beer to say thanks. As any friend would do,' she said gently.

He smiled ruefully. 'Message received and understood.'

'I'm very flattered.' But she wouldn't go out with another man. Even though it was officially over with Luke, she couldn't do it. 'See you tomorrow.'

She made the mistake of taking the main corridor out of Lizzy's. The corridor that went past the entrance to the hospital canteen. And Luke would have to be returning to the department after a break, wouldn't he?

'Hello, Rowena.' His voice was cool. 'I thought it was your day off?'

'It is.'

'So why are you here?'

'Visiting a friend.' He didn't need to know that her visit had been as a patient, not a ministering angel, and the 'friend' was more of a colleague. 'I assume that's allowed?'

'Do what you like. It's none of my business.'

His eyes said otherwise. Deep brown pools of hurt, a mixture of jealousy and longing and naked pain. She forced herself to look away. 'That's right. It's none of your business.'

How she could have done with a hug right then. But she walked away without even looking at him. As if she didn't care.

As if.

The next morning Rowena crawled out of bed. She was almost tempted to call in sick, but she knew that would prompt too many questions. Questions she really didn't want to answer. Splashing her face with cold water helped. So did a cup of coffee, brewed so strong that it almost made her gag to drink it.

Today was the day. The day she'd know for sure. No matter how confident Joe might be, he couldn't know for definite until they had the cytology results back. She just hoped that the lab backlog had cleared.

Luke barely acknowledged her when he came on duty, which was fine by her. She simply got on with doing her job, and doing it well. Though she couldn't help clock-watching. The minute she got her break, she'd go up and get her results.

The only thing was, she didn't get a chance to have her break. A patient with chest pain and acute breathlessness came in, needing her attention.

'Fred Wright. Emphysema,' Marty, the paramedic, told her. Emphysema was a chronic lung disease where the alveoli in the tiny air sacs in the lungs became damaged, their walls burst and the alveoli then became larger and larger sacs of air. This meant the lungs weren't as efficient at passing oxygen into the bloodstream and removing carbon dioxide from the capillaries. The oxygen level in the blood fell, causing hypoxaemia—an inadequate supply of oxygen to the tissues. And that could lead to a heart attack or a stroke.

'He's had it for a while—used to be a heavy smoker,' Marty explained. 'He's on a nebuliser at home, but he's wheezing very badly today, he's short of breath and he has chest pain.'

She nodded. 'Thanks, Marty.' Then she turned to her patient. 'Mr Wright, I'm Rowena Thompson, the registrar here. I'm just going to hook you up to a monitor so I can see how your heart's doing and how much oxygen's going round your body, then I'll know what to do to make you a bit more comfortable.'

'Do whatever you need to, love,' Fred croaked at her.

Quickly, she set up a twelve-lead ECG. The trace of Fred's heartbeat was fine. 'The good news is you're not having a heart attack.' The oxygen saturation wasn't so good. 'Can I ask you to do a peak flow measurement for me? It shows me how you're breathing. What you do is breathe as hard as you can into this tube.'

He nodded, did the flow test, and Rowena sighed inwardly as she looked at the gauge on the outside of the tube. Not good.

'I'm going to take some blood and get everything checked out—it might be that you have a viral infection, maybe even pneumonia, and that's what's causing the pain,' she said. 'I'm also going to give you some oxygen to help you breathe more easily and some drugs which will help stop your airways constricting.' She gave him some bronchodilators with the oxygen, then took blood samples and wrote out the label. 'Karen, can you get these to the lab for me, please? The usual—Us and Es, full blood count, glucose and cultures in case it's pneumonia giving him the chest pains.'

'Will do,' the nurse replied.

But a few minutes later Fred was still breathless and complaining of chest pains. Neither the oxygen nor the bronchodilators had helped. He was pale and sweating, and Rowena really wasn't happy. It could be a pneumothorax, a leakage of air from the lungs into the space between the lung and chest wall. She listened to his chest, but it was hard to tell if the decreased air entry was because of a pneumothorax or his emphysema. The other classic sign was tachycardia— a faster than normal heartbeat—but Fred's heartbeat hadn't changed. 'I'm going to get a chest X-ray done,' she said, frowning.

When the film came back, the lung markings extended to the chest wall. There was something else there but, given that he had emphysema, Rowena decided that it was a bulla, a large air-filled bubble in his lung.

So why was he still in pain?

Hell. It didn't help that she was still on edge about her own situation. But she couldn't let her patient suffer. There was only one thing she could do.

She went to find their consultant.

'Luke, can I borrow you for a minute?' she asked. 'I've got a patient with dyspnoea and chest pain. The films are fine. He's got emphysema, but I'm missing something.'

'Sure,' he said, and followed her to the cubicle.

'Mr Wright, this is Luke MacKenzie, our consultant. He's going to check you over,' she said.

Luke listened to Fred's chest, looked at the films and nodded. 'What's happened is that one of the bullae—the air bubbles—in your lung has ruptured. It's forced air between your lungs and your chest wall, your lung's collapsed very slightly, and because you've got emphysema you're finding it harder to breathe. I'm going to put a chest drain in—that'll take the air out and stop the pain.'

Rowena stared at him in shock. She'd checked for a pneumothorax. She couldn't have missed it. She couldn't.

When Luke had finished inserting the drain and Fred had relaxed against the bed, clearly no longer in pain, Luke looked at her. 'A quick word, Dr Thompson?' he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

She followed him to his office.

'I expect my staff to be professional,' he said, his voice very quiet and very cold. 'If you're going to spend a night out on the town, just make sure you're capable of doing your job the next day.'

'I am capable of doing my job!' And she hadn't been out on the town last night either. The shadows under her eyes hadn't been caused by partying.

'You just missed a spontaneous pneumothorax. Someone of your experience shouldn't have missed it.'

She sucked in a lungful of air. Then, to her horror, instead of yelling back at him that she had checked—that she'd made a mistake about the bulla and everyone made a mistake from time to time, and she'd' bloody well come to ask his opinion because she wasn't sure, instead of just winging it and hoping the patient would stop hurting—she burst into racking sobs.

'Rowena? Oh, hell.' In two strides, Luke was next to her. A second later she was in his arms and he was holding her, cradling her, stroking her hair. 'It's OK. We picked it up in time and he's going to be fine.'

Oh, God. This was so much harder, being in his arms. Being where she wanted to be. Being comforted. But instead of calming her, it made her cry all the harder, weep out all the fear and pain of the last week.

'Hey. I didn't exactly yell at you. Well, not much.' He held her closer. 'And... Oh, hell. I've missed you.' He rubbed his face against her hair. 'I've missed you so much. I want you back, Ro.'

The longing in his voice was enough to stiffen her backbone. To remind her what would happen if she gave in to this terrible, insidious weakness and let him back into her life. She pulled back.

'This isn't a good idea.'

'Rowena?' He frowned, then studied her face. 'Something's wrong.'

'No, it's not,' she lied. 'I just...don't want to be with you.'

'Thirty seconds ago you were crying in my arms. And you were holding onto me.'

'A mistake,' she said. 'We're not getting back together, Luke.'

'Why not? I've missed you. And I can see in your face that you missed me, too.'

Was it that obvious? 'No, I didn't. It's over, Luke. Over.' And she rushed from the room before she gave in to temptation and sought comfort in his arms again.

'Rowena, wait...'

But he was speaking to the air. Luke's mouth thinned. What the hell was going on? He'd realised almost as soon as he'd started working with Rowena that she was a good doctor, completely dedicated to her job. She was thorough, quick and knew exactly what she was doing. The fact she'd missed that spontaneous pneumothorax set warning bells clanging, and the fact that she'd rushed out of here in tears set the alarm at double volume. Something was definitely wrong.

And he was going to make her tell him what it was. Even if he had to drop to his knees and beg her to let him close enough to her to learn the truth. Pride be damned: he needed to know. He strode out of his office. She wasn't in the rest room, and she was nowhere to be seen in the department.

'Di, have you seen Rowena?' he asked the charge nurse.

She shook her head. 'Not for about half an hour. Why?'

'If you see her, tell her I want a word, will you?' He didn't wait for her reply but sought out Patty. 'Have you seen Rowena?'

'Left about three minutes ago. Said she was called out— something urgent,' the receptionist said. 'Is everything all right?'

'I don't know,' Luke said.

He headed for the car park, but there was no sign of her car. Which didn't tell him much. She could have caught the bus to work that morning. Or got a lift in with someone else.

Tonight, as soon as he'd finished his shift, he was going to go over to her place. He'd wait there all night, if he had to. And he was going to get some answers.

Rowena wrapped her arms round herself, willing herself not to shake. Deep breaths, steady voice, she reminded herself. 'I've come to collect my needle aspiration results,' she said. 'Rowena Thompson.'

The desk clerk checked on the computer. 'Sorry, nothing back yet.'

'But Joe said they'd be back today.' She heard the wailing note in her voice and winced. 'Sorry. I know it's not your fault and I didn't meant to take it out on you. I'm just a little jumpy. Waiting.'

'I'm sorry, Miss Thompson. I know there's been a holdup in the lab. Perhaps you can call again later?'

'Today?' she asked hopefully.

'Tomorrow.'

She had to wait for another day? Oh, God. She was a bundle of nerves as it was. The mess she'd made of her job today testified to that. With the uncertainty of her results hanging over her, there was no way she could cope in the department. No way at all. She was going home...and she'd apologise to everyone tomorrow. Right now she couldn't handle anything else.

Particularly Luke MacKenzie.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The doorbell rang. Continuously.

Rowena closed her eyes. She knew exactly who was there, and she couldn't face him. She tried ignoring the doorbell, but the noise was driving her mad. It was driving Ben crazy, too. He was barking madly, trying to get her attention and tell her that they had a visitor.

Maybe she should have taken the batteries out of her doorbell.

In the end, she knew she had to deal with it. Deal with him. So she opened the door.

'May I come in?' Luke asked quietly.

He didn't look angry. Just...sad. Hurt. Lonely.

Exactly how she felt.

She took a step back, letting him inside. He closed the door behind him and Ben went bananas, jumping up, wagging his tail wildly, giving little whimpers and licking Luke's hands.

'Hey.' He dropped to his knees in front of the dog. 'I missed you, too.' He ruffled the dog's fur. Then he glanced up at Rowena. 'While I'm here—grovelling in front of you, so to speak—will you, please, tell me what's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong.'

The woodenness of her tone was obvious to both of them. Luke sighed. 'When an extremely talented and professional doctor makes a stupid mistake, bursts into tears and rushes out of the department, something's wrong. Something's very wrong. And I'm worried about you, Rowena. I know you said you don't want a relationship with me. OK. I'll learn to deal with that. But that doesn't stop me being your friend, does it?'

She couldn't answer. The tears were blinding her, choking her, and she was shaking so hard, she didn't think she'd ever stop.

'Ah, honey.' In one move he stood up and pulled her into his arms. 'Let it out. It's better for you.' He kept stroking her hair, murmuring her name, whispering, 'It's OK, I'm here.'

Except it wasn't OK, was it?

She had no idea how long she stood there, crying in his arms, but when she stopped, his shirt had the most enormous wet patch. And there was mascara all over it, too.

She bit her lip. 'I'm sorry.'

'It'll come out in the wash.' He took her hand. 'What is it, Rowena?'

She couldn't say it. Couldn't say the word that scared her to hell. Her lip wobbled, and she forced the tears back. She wasn't going to cry again.

'Honey?'

She shook her hand free, then slowly lifted her shirt. Undid her bra.

His eyes widened in shock. 'Rowena? What are you doing?'

His face showed her the moment that he recognised the pattern of bruising on her left breast. He sucked in a breath. 'FNAC?'

Shaking, she nodded.

'You found a lump.'

A single tear rolled down her cheek. He was a doctor. She didn't need to confirm his guess. She simply restored order to her clothing.

'How long have you known?'

'Last...' Why wouldn't her voice work properly? Why did it have to be that tortured croak? Why couldn't she sound in control? Why wasn't she in control? She hadn't gone to pieces like this since she was a small child. 'Last...week.'

'The day before you told me you didn't want me in your life.' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'The day you were late for work. It wasn't a burst pipe at all.'

'No. I...I saw my GP.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I...' She closed her eyes. 'I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily.'

'Guess what? You failed. I've been worrying myself sick over you for the last week anyway.' He sounded tired. Bone-deep tired. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, he asked softly, 'When did you have the needle aspiration?'

It took a huge effort, but she finally managed to get the word out. 'Yesterday.'

'When you told me you were visiting a friend.' His face was grim. 'And you got the results today?'

She shook her head. 'They...' She dragged in a shuddering breath. 'They weren't back.'

He swore comprehensively. 'In theory, they can do it in fifteen minutes. While you wait. Why the hell didn't your doctor chase up the lab?'

She closed her eyes. 'They're short-staffed.'

'We all are. That's no excuse.'

He was angry. Really angry. She could see it in his eyes. Hear it in the tightness of his voice. 'Please...don't shout again.'

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry I bawled you out. I suppose it was He shook his head and grimaced. 'Frustration, though that's no excuse either. I knew something was wrong and you just shut me out.'

'I have to.'

'Why?' His voice was very gentle now, though the anger was still simmering in his eyes.

'If this is...' Hell, why couldn't she get that bloody word out? She clenched her fists, willing herself to be stronger. To say what she had to say. 'If it's cancer, I won't let you watch me die. Not like Charlie.'

He took her hand. 'Want to know something? Being without you is a hell of a lot worse. So if this is cancer—'

'Maybe that's why they didn't have the results,' she broke in. 'Because they need another...' her breath hitched'... sample.'

'If that was the case, they would have contacted you,' he reassured her. 'And, as I was trying to say to you, if it is cancer, I want to make the most of every minute I have with you. And we'll fight the disease together.'

'No. I can't let you do that.'

'Stop being noble, Ro. It's hurting you as much as it's hurting me, so what's the point? I want to be with you, to share the bad as well as the good.' He fumbled in his pocket and handed her a package. 'Here.'

'What's this?' A small, heavy, badly wrapped...something. The paper was crumpled, and the sticky tape was only just holding it together.

'I'm rubbish at wrapping presents,' he said with a rueful grin.

And yet he stitched wounds, made precise incisions in people's bodies every single day. Something that needed far more skill than wrapping a present.

It must have been written over her face, because he smiled. 'It's paper, not a person.'

'Right.'

'Open it,' he said softly. 'I bought this for you a while back. I haven't had the chance to give it to you.'

'So why now?'

'Because the time's right.'

It was a small bronze sculpture of a condor.

'Remember that moment?' he asked. 'It was special. Very, very special.'

Just the two of them, the pale blue Patagonian winter sky, and the condors, and the rest of the group could have been a thousand miles away. She remembered. She remembered the feel of his arms around her, the whisper of his breath against her skin.

'Just like you're special to me. I...I care about you, Rowena. I care about you a lot.'

He was avoiding the L word, she noticed. Trying not to scare her away again.

'And I think you care about me, too.'

She swallowed hard. Oh, she cared. Too much.

'You don't have to say it,' he continued, still in that soft, gentle voice. 'I know it. On a deeper level. You and I, we connect. It isn't just sex. It's who we are. I want to be with you, Rowena. And you can't go through this all on your own.'

'Yes, I can.' She'd always coped before on her own. Always.

'But you don't have to any more. I'm here.' He took her hand. 'I know you're worried. Of course you are. But remember that ninety per cent of breast lumps are benign. That rate's even higher in women under the age of forty. You're young. Everything's on your side.'

'Not everything,' she said quietly.

His eyes widened as he took in the implications. 'Do you have a family history of cancer?'

'I don't have a family.'

'OK, so you're estranged from them. But you must know.'

She shook her head. 'You don't understand. I don't have a family. My m—' No, she couldn't use that word, either. Maria had stopped being her mother twenty-eight years ago. 'The woman who gave birth to me was only fifteen.' Little more than a girl herself. Rowena could understand why Maria had abandoned her, the first time round. She'd accepted it even. 'She couldn't cope with having a baby. When I was two, she handed me over to the care of the authorities. I must have been a difficult child. Very loud and angry at first, and then withdrawn. I wouldn't let people close. So fostering just didn't work out, let alone adoption. I was brought up in a children's home.'

He said nothing, just walked into the living room with her, sat on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. Held her close while she talked.

'When I was eighteen, I exercised my right to find out about my birth parents. I went through all the proper channels. They got in touch with Maria, and I hoped she'd agree to meet me. Then maybe I'd understand where I came from, who I was. I waited for three months. I was about to give up hope when she agreed to do it. I was so excited. At last I was going to see my mother again. I couldn't really afford it, but I bought a new outfit. Something special. Because it was going to be such a special moment, being reunited with her.'

She closed her eyes. Even now the disappointment was still sharp. The memory of the day she'd met Maria.

'She met me in a coffee-shop. She hadn't sent me a photo or anything, but I recognised her the minute she walked in— and she recognised me. She looked like an older version of me. Same colour eyes, same colour hair—her face was a different shape, but I think I had her nose. Anyway. We ordered coffee. And that's when she told me it would be our only meeting. She didn't want to see me again—there was no place in her new life for me. She'd got a young family of her own, a three-year-old and a five-year-old. Her husband didn't know about me, and it was going to stay that way.'

'If she didn't want to see you again, why agree to meet you in the first place?'

'To make it clear, I suppose. Make sure I didn't threaten her marriage, make waves in her life. She was happily married to a nice, well-off, middle-class banker and she didn't want any reminders of the teenager she'd once been.' Rowena gave a bleak smile. 'I've no idea who my father is— whether he was just a kid, like her, or if he was an older man. If he was married. I don't know anything. She wouldn't tell me his name. She wouldn't even tell me her second name in case I traced her and made trouble.'

'But you wouldn't have made trouble.'

'Yeah. I know. But I suppose...' Rowena sighed. 'She was only fifteen when she had me. When she met me again, she was only a couple of years older than I am now. She just panicked that it was all going to go wrong and she'd end up with nothing. I can understand that.' On' an intellectual level, at least. On an emotional level, she still didn't understand. How could Maria reject someone who'd been part of her for nine months?

'No wonder you won't let people close,' he said softly. 'Rejected twice by the one person you'd expect to protect you. I understand now why you didn't want to talk about your childhood. And when I told you how I messed my family around... I'm sorry. It must have hurt, hearing that I'd squandered what you'd never had the chance to have.'

She shrugged. 'You weren't to know.'

'And no wonder you were so cut up about Peggy. From what everyone's told me, she mothered the whole department. She was the first one who'd ever really mothered you, wasn't she?'

'Yes.'

That one simple word said a whole volume. He held her close, clearly not knowing what to say.

'I went home and I cut up the clothes into tiny pieces. It didn't matter that they'd cost me most of my savings. No way could I wear them again. And then I went off the rails. Big time. I'd wanted Maria to be proud of me—the daughter she'd abandoned and left to grow up in a children's home. I'd wanted her to see I'd made something of my life. I was going to university to study medicine. I wasn't looking for money or handouts or anything like that. I just wanted her to...to know me. But she didn't want to know. Didn't care. I was just the mistake she'd made eighteen years before and thought she'd got rid of.'

'She didn't deserve you,' Luke said. 'And I bet she still thinks of you, regrets what she did.'

'Regrets having me and not having an abortion, more like,' Rowena said.

'No. Look what you've become, Rowena. You're an excellent doctor. Everyone in the hospital respects you—cares about you. Look how much money you raised for leukaemia research.'

'That was money for Peggy.'

'No. People gave because you were the one doing the fundraising.'

She couldn't quite believe him. She was always on the edge of the group, always an outsider. Always had been.

When he raised an eyebrow, she realised she'd spoken aloud.

'You're only on the edge of things because you want to be. Dare to walk into the middle, and that's exactly where you'll stay. No one's going to reject you or push you out again. You're very highly thought of in the department. But people are scared to get too close in case you push them away.'

She'd never thought of it like that before.

'Let us in, Rowena,' he said softly.

Maybe. Once she'd weighed up the risks. She took a deep breath. 'So, now you know why I have no idea about my family's medical history. I might have a first-degree relative with breast cancer. Or not. And I have no way of finding out.'

'Have you thought about genetic testing, finding out if you had any mutation in the BRCA1 or BRCA2 gene?' Those particular genes worked as tumour suppressors; germline mutations in the genes increased your risk of developing breast or ovarian cancer. Chromosome analysis could tell if you had the mutation or not.

She nodded. 'I chickened out.'

'I can understand that. Is it better to know so you can prepare but worry yourself sick, or not to know so you can enjoy yourself?'

'Know nothing until it hits me,' she said wryly. 'Yeah. That's what I thought.'

He stroked her hair. 'If it is cancer, I can't give you physical help. I can't donate anything to make you better. But I can hold you. I can give you my love and support. And I want to be there with you, all the way.'

'You can't.'

'No? Remember when I told you about Charlie?' he asked softly. 'You said it would make a difference if the one who never came home, who didn't like doing the family bit, stayed with you. You'd know he loved you, that he cared enough about you to be there when it was important. Will you let me make a difference for you?'

She had no answer to that.

'By deciding for me, you've taken my choice away.'

She hadn't looked at it that way either. Now she had...she needed to know. 'What would you have chosen?'

'The same as I do now. Being with you.'

He chose to be with her. Just as Maria had chosen not to be with her.

'The chances are this is going to be rough,' she warned.

'It's not cancer, Ro. I know it isn't.'

She swallowed. 'No, you don't. Not for sure. Not without the FNAC results.'

'I know the statistics. I'm a doctor.'

'So am I. And I know the worst that can happen. I know that what looks innocent might have malignant cells lurking in the middle.'

He held her closer. 'Sometimes it's a problem when you know too much. Sometimes it's easier when you don't know anything.'

'Maybe.' She forced a smile to her face. 'Hey, do you know anyone who might want to buy a house?'

He winced. 'That's not funny.'

His eyes were glistening. He actually had tears in his eyes—tears for her. She shook her head. *I can't do this to you, Luke. It's hurting you, being with me.'

'It's hurting me more, not being with you. Don't push me away again, Ro.' He rubbed his nose against hers. 'Let me be with you.'

She couldn't speak. She wanted him to be there—but she didn't want to let him suffer. Not when he didn't have to.

'When did you last eat properly?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm not hungry anyway.'

He lifted her and stood up.

She scowled. 'Put me down. I'm not an invalid.' Yet.

He let her slide down his body until her feet were touching the ground again. 'I know. But humour me. I've had a week of missing the feel of you in my arms.' He draped his arm round her shoulders, holding her close, and they walked down the narrow hall to her kitchen. He kissed her lightly, made her sit down, and checked the contents of her fridge. 'Hmmm. Not your usual stock. Rowena, you need to keep your strength up. I'm going to cook you a meal.'

'I don't want anything.'

'Tough. I'm making it for you anyway. Something light. Scrambled eggs. I do fabulous scrambled eggs.'

She watched him as he whisked the eggs, buttered the bread and even removed the crusts before cutting it into neat triangles. He was making a fuss of her—and it choked her so much that she couldn't eat when he put the plate in front of her.

'Rowena? Don't you like scrambled eggs?'

She did. Especially when they were light and creamy like these ones. 'I'm not used to anyone making a fuss over me,' she whispered.

He looked stricken. 'I didn't think. Hell. I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it because I wanted to do something for you.' He swallowed hard. 'Do you want me to go?'

'No, I want you to stay.' Her eyes filled with tears again. 'I'm a complete mess. I'm sorry.'

He crouched before her, took her hands and kissed each finger in turn. 'A mess? No. You're beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever met. Yes, your face is red and blotchy, your nose is running and I think that's a spot forming on your chin, just there...' He touched her skin with one forefinger.

Knowing he was teasing her, she couldn't help smiling.

'That's better. Rowena, you'll always be beautiful to me.' His face grew serious. 'So if it is cancer, and you have a lumpectomy—even if you have a mastectomy and decide against reconstructive surgery—you'll still be the woman I want, the woman I lust after.' He paused and looked her straight in the eye. 'The woman I love. I love you, Rowena.'

He'd said it. The L word. She stared at him. Excluding her relationships as a student—when the word hadn't meant anything anyway; she knew the boys concerned had just seen it as a way of getting her into bed—she couldn't remember anyone saying that to her.

'Don't look so scared. It's not a bad thing.'

'I...' Her voice cracked. 'I don't know how to deal with this.'

'You don't have to. We said we'd take it day by day, didn't we? And you don't have to say anything back. Just . being with you is enough for me.'

She smeared her hand over her face to wipe away the tears. 'Luke?'

'Yes?'

'Will you stay with me tonight?'

If he noticed how wobbly her voice was, he made no comment. He simply said softly, 'I'll stay with you as long as you want me to.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was weird, lying in bed with Luke in the dark, Rowena thought. Apart from her time with him in Chile, she'd never spent the whole night with anyone before. Not even in the reckless days of her teens.

His breathing was regular, but not deep. So he, too, was lying awake. Probably thinking the same thoughts as she was. About the lump.

'Hey. I hope you're not brooding,' she whispered, curving her arm over his stomach.

'Of course not,' he whispered back.

He was lying. She knew it. Because she'd have given him the same answer if he'd asked her that question. What they both needed, she thought, was time out from thinking. There was one particular way that would help both of them.

She let her hand drift down to his thighs. '

He clamped his hand over her wrist. 'What are you doing?'

'What do you think I'm doing?'

He exhaled sharply. 'Rowena, we can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because... Look, you had a needle aspiration yesterday. You're bruised and sore. I'm scared I'm going to hurt you.'

She reached over to press a kiss onto his chest. It felt good, the light dusting of hair tickling her nose. And she'd missed his clean, masculine scent. 'You're not going to hurt me, Luke. And I think we both need this.'

Slowly, she shifted so that she was straddling him, her hands splayed either side of his head on the pillow, then bent her head. She drew her tongue along his lower lip. When he sighed and opened his mouth, she kissed him more deeply.

'Are you taking charge?' he asked when she broke the kiss.

'Looks that way. Any complaints, Mr MacKenzie?'

'Yeah. It's three seconds since you kissed me.'

This time, when she kissed him, she poured her soul into the kiss. Let her mouth silently tell him how much she loved him, how much she wanted him. How she didn't want to hold back any more. How she didn't want him to hold back either.

Gently, he cupped her breasts, making sure his fingers were nowhere near the bruised area on her left breast. She murmured with pleasure as his thumbs rubbed against her nipples, the friction just what she needed right then. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, and tilted her hips. When his breathing quickened, she grinned. Yeah. It still worked. She could still arouse him, lump or no lump.

She rubbed against him again.

'Tease,' he accused.

'Who, me?' she mocked.

'Yeah, you.' He tilted his hips, letting her know that he was fully aroused, ready for her.

Just as she was ready for him.

'Love me, Ro,' he said, his voice cracking. 'Let's take each other over the edge.'

She lifted over him, then pushed down again so that he filled her. 'God, this feels good.'

'You're telling me. I've missed you, Ro. I've missed the softness of your skin. The way you feel like warm, wet silk wrapped round me. The way you taste.'

'I missed you, too. Let's make up for it.' She began to raise and lower herself over him, finding the rhythm they both liked best.

He groaned. 'And how.' He lifted his upper body so he could suckle one nipple, and she thrust her fingers into his hair, kneading his scalp and urging him on.

'You're beautiful. All mine,' he mumbled against her skin, and slid one hand between her legs, finding exactly the right spot. She sighed with pleasure and increased her pace, rocking against him.

How could she ever have thought she could give him up?

When she came, she virtually saw stars. She collapsed against him, pressing her cheek against his.

Then she realised that his face was wet.

'Luke?' she whispered. 'What is it?'

'Nothing.' But his voice was shaky.

'Tell me. We're not having any secrets between us.'

'If my willpower could keep you well, you'd live till you're a thousand.' The whisper was so soft, so intense, so heartfelt. Filled with pain.

Tears pricked her eyelids. 'It would only work for me if you lived till you were a thousand, too. Stay with me, Luke.'

'Always.' He kissed her fiercely. 'Always.'

Later that night, Luke lay awake, listening to Rowena's soft, regular breathing. What she'd told him tonight had blown his world apart. He understood now why she'd reacted the way she had over the last week—but, hell, if only this hadn't happened. If only it was still as uncomplicated as it had been in Chile. Raw sex, no strings.

He hadn't expected to fall in love. Not like this. And wasn't it ironic? Now he'd found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, now he'd actually persuaded her to accept him in her life, they might not have the rest of their lives to be together.

And he could have strangled her mother for screwing up and rejecting Rowena a second time. He could understand the first time—she'd been only a kid herself, and if she hadn't had any support from her family she couldn't have coped with a toddler. But the second time, she'd met Rowena in a public place. How much nerve must it have taken for the eighteen-year-old to meet the person she'd missed for most of her life? But Maria hadn't seen the bravery, hadn't seen how Rowena had made the best of the bad hand life had dealt her. She'd just thought of herself and her rich husband.

He himself had been spoiled rotten in comparison. However badly he'd behaved, his parents had always loved him, always been there for him. And how his mother would love having a daughter. A daughter of her own. Well, once she got used to the idea, she'd love it. She'd be worried at first, scared that Rowena would reject her in exactly the same way Luke had pushed her away.

Tomorrow he'd start to fix things. He'd go into one of those arty card shops, find a card with the kind of picture his mother liked and send it to her. Just to tell her he loved her, he appreciated her and he'd try to be a better son. He'd found someone who made him want to be a better man.

As for Rowena...he'd be there with her, all the way. Starting with her results. And if the lab claimed they still hadn't had time to do it, he'd go down there, fish out the sample and then stand over them until they'd analysed it.

And then he and Rowena would know exactly where they stood. Whether they had a full stretch of happiness before them, or whether they needed to make the most of every second.

Early the next morning, Luke brought Rowena breakfast in bed. Coffee, just how she liked it; a bowl of muesli; and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

'Where did you get the orange?' she asked suspiciously.

'The open-all-hours shop down the road. Ben and I ran all the way there and back to get the oranges. Then I squeezed the juice with my own fair hands.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Leave my dog out of it.'

'No chance. He conned me into buying him some chicken for his breakfast.'

'He doesn't have breakfast. Most people are suckers for big brown eyes. Sounds as if you're a sucker with big brown eyes,' she teased.

He smiled, pleased that he'd been able to make her forget her fears for a moment. 'Want me to make you some toast?'

'No, thanks. This is lovely.' She glanced at her bedside clock. 'And if I stay in bed for much longer, I'm going to be late for work.'

'Don't worry. Your consultant will let you off.'

'I need to take a long break this morning,' she warned.

To get her results. 'I know. And I'm coming with you.'

'You don't have to. Luke, you're going to be busy. You'll be needed in the department.'

'They'll cope fine without me for a little while. You're more important.' He sat on the bed next to her, leaned over and kissed her. 'I want to go with you,' he said softly. 'You're my girl. And I'm going to hold your hand.'

'In public?'

He held her gaze. 'Unless you have a problem with that.'

'Last week I would have. Today...'

'Yeah. It puts things into perspective. That's about the only plus point.'

She nodded.

'Now, eat that cereal. Doctor's orders.'

She smiled. 'You've got bossy tendencies, Luke MacKenzie.'

'They're catching. I got them from you.'

He kept it light all the way to the hospital. Made sure she wasn't overburdened in the department. And then at nine o'clock he called her into his office. 'Ready?'

'No.'

'Me neither.' The back of his neck felt hot, his stomach was rolling and his heartbeat was definitely faster than normal. How much worse she must feel. If it was the result they both feared, she'd be the one who had to go through the treatment. She'd be the one to suffer most. He took her hand. 'Come on. Let's go and find out.'

This time, the results were back—and Joe Plummer wanted to discuss them with Rowena.

'That means it's bad news,' Rowena said, her face frantic.

'No. It means he wants to discuss your options. It's going to be fine,' Luke soothed her.

Joe's eyes widened when Luke walked with Rowena into his office—particularly when Luke continued to hold Rowena's hand after they'd sat down. 'I didn't realise you two were...'

Luke shrugged. 'We've been keeping it quiet. I believe Rowena kept something else quiet last week.'

Joe looked embarrassed. 'Now I understand why you didn't want to go out with me, Rowena.'

'Sorry, mate, she's taken,' Luke cut in lightly. 'And if I'd known about this, believe me, I'd have been here when she came in for the FNAC.' He stared grimly at Joe. Trying to hit on his girl he could understand—particularly as nobody had known that Rowena was seeing him. But Joe hadn't done his job properly in Luke's eyes. That wasn't something Luke could understand or excuse. 'And if I'd been here, we would have waited for the results there and then,' he added pointedly.

Joe shuffled awkwardly. 'Sorry about that. Lab problems. I did try to chase them.'

Luke's eyes said it all: Joe hadn't tried hard enough.

Joe cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. 'Well, I'm pleased to say that it's a C2—it's benign. The lump is a breast mouse—a fibroadenoma, which as you know is a simple overgrowth of the lobules or leaves of the breast tree. It isn't malignant and it doesn't increase your risk of cancer. If you leave them alone, around one in three fibroadenomas will shrink or disappear over next two years, half of them will stay the same and one in five will slowly get bigger.'

'It's benign.' Rowena's face went white, and then crumpled. Luke held her close as she cried and cried. 'It's not cancer,' she sobbed. 'Thank God, it's not cancer.'

'So we've got our lifetime,' he said softly, stroking her hair. 'Everything's going to be OK now.'

At last her sobs died to a hiccup, and finally to ragged breathing.

'In these circumstances, I'd recommend that we leave the lump and give you another ultrasound in six months' time,' Joe said. 'Keep a watching brief on it.'

Rowena shook her head. 'I want it out, Joe. I know all the stats, I've read the research, but it's worried me sick. I've no idea if there's a family history of cancer, and I don't want to leave any room for error.'

'There's no error. I was fairly sure from the ultrasound, remember, and the cytology proved it.'

'I don't want to take, the risk.'

He nodded. 'OK. We can remove it surgically—we'll need to remove a margin of breast tissue as well—or there's a new trial, where we insert a laser into the fibroadenoma.'

'Surgery,' she said firmly.

'OK. It's under a general anaesthetic, so it carries the usual risks—and you'll need an overnight stay.'

'I'll stay with Ben that night,' Luke told her swiftly, knowing that her first worry would be about the animal who'd been her closest friend for the last two years.

'And I'd prefer you to take it very, very easy for at least a week afterwards,' Joe added.

'How soon can you do it?' she asked.

'Next week.'

She nodded. 'Book me in, please.'

'OK. You know the rules about nil-by-mouth.'

'I'll make sure she sticks to them,' Luke said.

'Good.' Joe held his hand out and Rowena shook it. 'I'm glad it's been good news.'

'Me, too. And I'll buy you that beer some time.'

'You do that. As a friend,' he added hastily when Luke raised an eyebrow. He shook Luke's hand as well. 'See you next week, Rowena.'

Once they were in the corridor, Luke picked Rowena up and whirled round with her. 'We're having champagne tonight. Dinner out,' he said.

'The best champagne,' Rowena said.

'You bet. We've got a lot to celebrate. Life.' He kissed her, then put her down. 'Right, you slacker. Get back to work.'

She pulled a face at him, then grinned and took his hand. When he loosened his hold on her fingers as they reached the emergency department, she nudged him. 'You said you'd hold my hand all the way,' she reminded him.

'Are you sure about this? Patty's going to gossip.'

'Who cares?' Then she frowned, obviously having second thoughts about it. 'Luke—don't say anything about where we've just been. I don't want... Well. I'll take my sick leave as holiday.'

'You will not. And I'm speaking as your consultant.'

'Unpaid leave, then. Anything. I'd just rather people didn't know about my operation.'

Because she couldn't handle pity? He could understand that. But he thought she might have misread the situation. Their colleagues wouldn't pity her—they'd support her. Show her just how much they thought of her. And that, he thought, would give her self-esteem the boost it needed, so she could put Maria's double rejection behind her for good.

'OK. We'll go in separately. Otherwise people really will talk'

She kissed him swiftly on the lips. 'I knew you'd understand.'

'We'll just leave work together instead.' He grinned. 'We could do one of those tango kisses in Reception. You know, the one where I lean you over backwards and ravish you.'

She giggled. 'Or we could really shock everyone, and you can be the one leaning backwards over my arm!'

'Yeah.' He winked at her. 'See you later, tigress.' He purred at her, then walked back into the department, feeling like a million dollars. Rowena was all right. And she was his. So all was very, very well with his world.

He managed to focus for the rest of the day then, at the end of his shift, he met Rowena in the locker room. 'Ready?'

'To go public? Yeah.'

'Let's be casual. My arm round your shoulders, yours round my waist. See if anyone notices.'

They'd almost made it out of Reception when Patty spotted them and shrieked.

'Hang on, you two. Is this a wind-up?'

They turned to face her, still with their arms round each other. 'What?'

'Are you an item?'

'Yes,' Luke said, and kissed Rowena. Very long and very hard. Even some of the patients were whooping when he stopped kissing her. 'Night, all. See you tomorrow,' he said, and they sauntered out of the department.

'That was naughty,' Rowena said.

He grinned. 'Yeah. And fun.' He gave her a sidelong look. 'Want to have a race, see who can climb one of those beeches the fastest?' He indicated the trees at the side of the car park.

'You must be joking. You spent a year playing action hero in Chile. Which puts you at a very unfair advantage.'

'Shame. I guess that means we'll just have to go and drink champagne instead.'

'After we've stopped at your bed-sit.'

He frowned. 'Why?'

'So you can collect your toothbrush. And some clean clothes.'

'You want me to stay tonight?'

'If you want to.'

He pulled her into his arms. 'Oh, I want to.' If this was taking it day by day, that was more than fine with him.

The day before Rowena's operation, Luke had a very quiet word with Diane. The charge nurse was shocked almost to tears by the news he told her, then her mouth set in a determined line. 'Right. Leave this to me. I'll catch you in your office later and tell you what the plan is.'

'Thank you,' he said quietly.

Diane was as good as her word so when he'd delivered Rowena to the surgical ward next morning, he informed her that he needed to go to the loo and would be back to hold her hand in precisely three minutes.

The second he left the room, Diane walked in with a huge bouquet of flowers.

'Hey. You didn't think you'd get away with it, did you?'

Rowena was so shaken that she had to sit down. 'How did...?' Her mouth thinned as she guessed the truth. 'Luke.'

'Mmm-hmm. He spilled the beans. Just as well. You dope, did you think we wouldn't care?'

'It wasn't that.' Rowena shifted awkwardly in her seat.

'I remember when you were a shy little house officer and I was a staff nurse. We've worked together for years, Ro, and although we've been friends, I've always felt you held something back. You were always so reserved. I wish you'd said something to me about the lump. I would have been there for you. I would have come with you for the needle aspiration, if you hadn't wanted Luke there.'

'I thought...' Rowena's voice wobbled.

'You thought a load of rubbish, from the sound of it. A bright doc like you.' Diane tutted, laid the bouquet on the bed, then hugged Rowena. 'You idiot. Do you really have no idea how much we all love you? You're one of us. One of the team. And I hope you realise you're going to get a constant stream of visitors while you're in here. Enough grapes to set up your own vineyard, too.'

'Oh, Di. I...' Rowena shuddered into sobs, crying on her friend's shoulder. 'I hate this. I never cry. And all I've done for a fortnight is howl.'

'Because you're human, and what you've been through is scary. Every woman's fear. Maybe it's time you let things out, instead of bottling it all up.' Diane kissed her cheek. 'We'll be waiting for news downstairs. And the minute Luke tells us that you're allowed to have visitors, I'll be here. Oh, and I'd better not forget this, or they'll have my guts for garters downstairs.'

She handed Rowena a card. A card that had been signed by everyone in the department, including the paramedics and the cleaning staff. She also recognised a few more names, people on other wards who knew her through liaison with the emergency department.

'We're all rooting for you,' Diane said softly. 'And you're going to be fine.'

Luke came back into the room when Diane left, looking slightly nervous. 'Not going to shoot me, are you?'

'I wanted to keep it quiet.'

'So you could stay on the outside? Hmm. I thought maybe it was time you found out what people really think of you.'

'Yeah.' She sniffed. 'Thank you. I think. Hell. I always used to have such self-control.'

'Sometimes you can have too much self-control.'

'I don't like being this weepy. This wet.'

'It won't last. I can put up with it.' He kissed the tip of her nose. 'I love you. Have you taken your pre-med?'

'Yeah.'

The anaesthetist came in. 'Dr Thompson, are you ready?'

'Yes.' She glanced at Luke. 'Stay with me?'

'Till you're under? Of course. And they're going to page me the minute you're in the recovery room, so I'll be there for when you wake up.'

The anaesthetist smiled at her. 'You'll feel a sharp prick, then you'll start to go sleepy. Count back from ten for me.'

She did so. 'Ten, nine—Luke, I...' She was asleep before she could tell him that she loved him.

Luke stroked her cheek. 'Take care of her,' he said to the anaesthetist. 'She's special.' The woman he was going to marry, though she didn't know that yet.

Luke found it hard to concentrate on the ward; he had half an ear on his bleeper, willing it to go with the news he'd been waiting for. When it finally did, he took the stairs three at a time, and he was holding Rowena's hand when her eyes opened.

'Hello, beautiful.' He leaned over and kissed her. 'The operation was an unqualified success. Joe says he's saved the lump because he knows you'll want to see it for yourself.'

'Yeah. Later.'

'I'm going back to yours after my shift to take Ben for a run and give him his tea, then I'm coming back here until the end of visiting hours, then back to yours so Ben doesn't have to be alone tonight.'

'Don't leave the kitchen door open tonight, or he'll sneak up and you'll wake at three in the morning to find he's got most of the bed,' Rowena said drowsily.

'I'll remember.' He kissed her. 'Anything you need?'

'No.'

'I'll get back to the ward, then—they're waiting to hear how you are so they can come up and see you.' He grinned. 'I think they've bought the entire hospital shop between them, so you won't be short of magazines to flick through. But if the visitors get too much, chuck them out and tell them to see me in my office.'

'Luke, you don't scare anyone.' She gave him a wobbly smile. 'You're too nice.'

'Glad you think so.' He .squeezed her hand and drew it to his mouth. 'I love you. See you later.'

His overnight stay with Ben went well—particularly as he , discovered they had a shared liking for cheese and crackers. He picked Rowena up and brought her home the next morning.

'Shouldn't you be at work?' she asked.

'I switched my off duty.' He'd taken the next three days as leave so he could be there in the first couple of days after her operation and make sure she rested properly. 'Put your feet up. I'll get you a coffee.'

'Luke, I'm not an invalid.'

'You had an operation yesterday. Under a general anaesthetic. Don't push yourself too fast,' he warned. 'I've got a couple of days off, so make the most of it.' He handed her a puzzle magazine and a pen. 'Anything else you need?'

'I'm fine.'

'Back in a minute.' He ignored the set of her jaw. She was independent, he knew, but even she would be sensible enough to realise that right now she couldn't be independent... wouldn't she?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

By the third day, Rowena was ready to murder Luke. Yes, he was being kind. Yes, he was being helpful. Yes, he was doing his best to make life easy for her while she was recuperating from her operation.

But he was driving her insane. Stifling her. She was used to managing on her own. Always had. But he was anticipating her every need. She'd go to do the washing-up, and he'd already done it. She'd think about making a cup of coffee, and one would appear as if he'd read her mind. She'd feel peckish, and he'd cook her something, anything from cheese on toast through to an extremely authentic pollo con arroz.

What's he going to do next, wipe my nose for me? she thought, knowing she was being ungrateful and bitchy, but unable to stop herself. Why wouldn't he stop treating her like an invalid?

On the fourth day, she snapped. 'Luke. Please. I want you to go home.'

He stared at her in shock. 'Home?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

Could he really not see what he was doing? 'I thought you of all people would understand.' She shook her head. 'You said your family stifled you, and you couldn't cope with it. But that's exactly what you're doing to me. You're wrapping me in cotton wool and anticipating my every move—and I can't stand it! You're driving me mad. I know I'm being an ungrateful cow, but I just can't cope with this sort of pressure. I need some space.'

'Are you saying it's over between us?' he asked very carefully.

'No. I just need some space. Look, a lot of stuffs happened in the last couple of weeks. Give me time to come to terms with things in my head.' Though she wouldn't be so unfair as to leave it open-ended. 'Three days, that's all I want,' she said softly. 'No visits, no phone calls—just space.'

He frowned. 'I'm not sure you're well enough to cope on your own.'

'Of course I'm well enough. For heaven's sake, Luke, it isn't as if. I had major abdominal surgery! Yes, I'm bruised and sore and tired,' she admitted, 'but I'm not an invalid and I hate being treated like one and clucked over. And I'm also not stupid enough to do anything beyond my capabilities. Give me credit for a bit of common sense, would you?'

His jaw set. 'OK. If that's what you want. Three days. No visits, no phone calls—just space.'

She almost sagged in relief. He understood. Thank God— he understood.

'I'll call you on Friday when I finish thy shift, shall I?'

She nodded, feeling tired. 'Thank you.'

'I'll pack my stuff, then.'

She was such a cow. He'd done everything to make her happy and she was just throwing it back in his face. Except she wasn't. She just needed time to get used to the idea of being...well, not on her own all the time. Needed to adjust to having someone else sharing her space.

Not that either of them had ever said his stay in her house was permanent. They hadn't said anything about moving in together. They hadn't discussed it at all, but clearly they'd both assumed it would happen at some point.

He didn't kiss her goodbye. Just gave her a very sad, worried look, added, 'See you,' and left.

Ben nudged her knee with his nose.

'OK. So I'm an idiot, telling him to go.' Rowena frowned. 'But I couldn't take the cotton-wool treatment. I want to be his equal partner, not a china doll.'

Ben gave a big, doggy sigh and turned his back on her.

'It's not for ever. Just for three days.' She was doing the right thing. She knew she was. So why did it feel wrong?

Luke didn't sleep that night. His single bed felt too big. Which was crazy, considering it was half the width of Rowena's bed. But it just didn't feel right without her warm body curled in his arms. He couldn't sleep without the feel of her skin against his.

'Get over it,' he told himself. 'She's right. My parents cosseted me and I couldn't handle it. I left home. She's only doing what I did—pushing me away because I smothered her. Just like I pushed my mum away because she smothered me.'

And how it had hurt that she'd pushed him away. Now he knew how his mother must have felt, and he hated himself for it. For bringing this kind of pain to someone else.

Half a dozen times before breakfast he picked up the phone, then hung up before he'd dialled the final digit of Rowena's number. Three days, he'd promised her. He'd barely managed ten hours. If he pushed her too hard now, he knew he'd lose her for good. 'Three days. It isn't a lifetime,' he said with a sigh.

It just felt like it.

'Please, just let her call me. Please,' he whispered.

Maybe Luke had spread the word, Rowena thought, and warned everyone that she wanted to be left alone—because nobody at all rang her for two days. By Thursday afternoon, she was missing him and feeling just a little bit sorry for herself.

'It's your own fault. You pushed him away,' she said aloud. Hell. She wanted to be with Luke—but she wanted it to be a partnership between them. Not the fussing, stifling mess it had become while she was convalescing.

Funny, she'd half expected him to call. Or maybe he'd had time to think, too, and had decided that she wasn't worth the effort. Maybe she'd been right all along: she wasn't lovable. Maria had abandoned her. Now Luke had done the same.

'Oh, get a grip,' she told herself. She'd asked him to give her space for three days. He was just doing what she'd asked.

And now she knew it wasn't what she wanted at all.

Luke had had the courage to put his heart in her hands. He'd actually told her he loved her, whereas she hadn't had the courage to tell him how she felt about him. How important he was to her. That she wanted him as her equal partner, for the rest of their lives.

Maybe it was time, she stopped running and showed some courage.

She picked up the phone.

'Good evening, Emergency Department,' Patty said.

'Hi, it's Rowena.'

'How are you doing?'

Patty sounded genuinely pleased to hear her. Maybe it was time, Rowena thought, that she got over her rejection complex. Just because she'd been unloved and unwanted as a child, it didn't mean she had to be like it for the rest of her life. 'Fine, thanks. And you?'

'I'm fine, too.'

'Um, is Luke there?'

Patty sounded surprised. 'Yes. Do you want me to put you through?'

'No, but can you do me a huge favour?'

'Sure.'

'Keep him there. In his office, I mean,' Rowena said. 'I don't care what excuses you have to make. Just keep him there.'

'What's going on?'

This was more like the Patty Rowena knew. Curious and scenting gossip. She chuckled. 'You'll be the first to know, I promise.'

There was a pause. 'Ro, you haven't gone mad, have you?'

'On the contrary,' Rowena said softly. In fact, she thought she'd just come to her senses. 'I'll see you in a bit.'

'Wish me luck,' she said to Ben when she'd put the phone down, rubbing his ears. 'I'm going to put my heart in his hands. I just hope I'm not too late.'

When she reached the emergency department, Patty gave her the thumbs-up. Rowena smiled her appreciation, then knocked on Luke's office door.

'Come in,' he barked.

Not a happy puppy, then. And she knew who was to blame for that, at least in part. Without saying a word, she walked in, closed the door and locked it behind her.

He looked up from his desk and his eyes narrowed. 'Rowena?'

'Mmm-hmm.'

'It's Thursday. You said you wanted space. Three days.'

'I did. And thank you for giving it to me.' She folded her arms. 'I've had time to think.'

He went very, very still. 'And?'

She shrugged. 'You stifled me.'

'So what are you saying? That it's over?'

'I'm saying, don't make the same mistake again.'

'With you.'

'With me,' she confirmed. 'And there's something I want to tell you.'

He hadn't moved. Almost as if, she thought, he was scared to—in case any movement made the floor fall out of his world.

'Something I tried to tell you before. Except the anaesthetic kicked in—ooh, about three-quarters of a second too early.' She paused, trying to control her voice so it didn't wobble. 'I love you.'

He blinked, as if not quite trusting his ears. 'You love me?'

She nodded, knowing what he needed to hear. 'I love you, Luke. And, um, I wondered if you wanted to move in with me.'

'Move in with you. Until you get fed up with me.'

Well, she deserved that. She'd thrown him out last time. She swallowed. 'No. I mean, for good.'

'No.'

She backed towards the door, needing the support before she crumpled to the floor, and closed her eyes. What a fool she was. She'd left it too late. Luke had changed his mind about her. How did that song go, about not knowing what you'd got until it was gone? She'd just learned the truth of it for herself, the hard way.

She'd lost him.

All because she'd been too stupid and too stubborn to give their relationship a proper go.

'I don't want to live with you,' he whispered.

She opened her eyes to discover that he'd moved from behind his desk. He was standing right in front of her. And he was closing the blinds on his office window.

'It's not enough,' he told her, holding her gaze. 'This is the real thing. The way it is between you and me—-it's never been like that for me before.' He stroked her face, and she shivered at his touch. 'And I don't think it's been like that for you either.'

'It hasn't,' she admitted.

'So I want all the stuff that goes with living with you.

Marriage. Big flashy diamond ring, church, huge party for everyone who knows us—the lot.'

This time it was her turn to go very still. 'Are you asking me to marry you?'

'You must be joking!' he scoffed. 'You've just put me through two days of hell. Utter, utter hell. Do you have any idea how many times I nearly picked up the phone to call you, then slammed it down in case it made you push me away for good?' When she bit her lip, he added, 'So that's why I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm not going to risk you saying no. I'm not asking—I'm telling you I'm going to marry you.'

She folded her arms. 'That's bossy.'

'Deal with it,' he flung at her, his eyes twinkling as he realised she hadn't said no.

She grinned. 'You missed something out.'

He frowned. 'What?'

'Honeymoon.'

He rolled his eyes. 'Well, that's obvious. Patagonia.'

'You're going to make me sleep in a tent on our honeymoon?'

'OK, we'll compromise. We'll sleep in a hotel this time round.' He paused. 'I missed something else out as well.'

She frowned. 'What?'

'Babies,' he said simply. 'Remember that little one with intussusception? I was watching you treat him, and you looked broody. And then...' He flushed. 'I found myself going broody. That was the moment I knew I wanted babies with you.'

She chuckled. 'You just want to practise making one.'

His grin broadened. 'That, too.' He tangled his fingers with hers. 'And there's something else. It, um, means you'll be part of my family. My mother can be a bit clucky and...' He sighed. 'I think I've just made it worse.'

'How?'

'I sent her this card. Because of you.'

She frowned. 'Explain..'

'You made me realise I never appreciated her. Not properly. So I found a really pretty cafe and wrote something excruciatingly sloppy. I told her how much I loved her.'

'And I bet she'll treasure it for ever.' Rowena smiled. 'Sometimes people just need to hear it.'

'I can take a hint.' He raised her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss into her palm. 'I love you, Rowena Thompson.' When she said nothing, he coughed. 'Come on. Your turn.'

'I wasn't fishing.' But she stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'I love you, too, Luke MacKenzie.'

'Thank God you've put me out of my misery. At last.' This time he backed her against the door. Placed a hand each side of her head. Lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was dizzy.

When she was able to focus again, she realised that he'd dropped into the easy chair next to the door, and she was sitting on his lap with her hands tangled in his hair. His beautiful, soft, short hair.

'There's something else,' he said, rubbing his nose against hers.

A condition? 'What?' she asked tensely.

'About my mother. I know you hate people fussing over you, but...' He looked beseechingly at her.

'I won't push her away,' Rowena promised, realising what he wanted. Her voice felt thick with tears. 'I won't reject her.' She knew how much that kind of rejection hurt. And maybe, just maybe, it'd be nice to have a mother figure help her plan her wedding. The way she'd dreamed about when she'd been younger.

'So will you, Rowena? Will you be my love, my wife—my equal partner,' he stressed, 'the mother of our babies, for the rest of our days?'

'Yes.'

'You're slipping. When you make a deal like that, you're supposed to seal it with a kiss,' he said with a grin.

She smiled. And she did.