Men In Uniform: Mad About The Doctor: Her Little Secret / First Time Lucky? / How To Mend A Broken Heart. Carol Marinelli

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      ‘Leitmotif!’ He heard the triumph in her voice and ignored it, felt the haste of her pen beside him, and it took every bit of effort not to turn round and join her in that moment.

      No, this Nick really didn’t need.

CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘ALISON doesn’t want to be my friend.’

      He lasted two days.

      Two days trying not to notice how her neck went a little bit pink when he spoke to her. Two days ignoring the fragrance of her hair when their heads occasionally met over a patient, or that now and then she’d rub her forehead and on would come her glasses. Two days of just talking, just keeping it as it was, then, as happened at times, but had to happen on this day, Alison came off the worse for wear with an inebriated patient. Showered and changed into the most threadbare, faded scrubs, Nick got the most astonishing view of what appeared to be a purple bra and panties, before Sheila pointed the problem out and Alison put on a theatre gown. Like a dressing gown over pyjamas, Nick thought, and then tried not to think, and then just stopped thinking for a dangerous moment as she sat next to him writing up his notes, her ponytail wet and heavy, and he forgot, just simply forgot not to flirt.

      ‘Why don’t you want to be my friend, Alison?’ He nudged her as if they were sitting in a classroom and Alison, who wasn’t having the greatest day, annoyed with herself for not replacing her spare uniform, found herself trying not to smile, yet she did carry on the joke and put her arm over the notes she was writing as if he was trying to copy her.

      ‘I am your friend, Nick.’

      ‘Not on Facebook…’

      ‘I haven’t got time to play online…’ Alison said. ‘Some of us live and work in the real world—I’m studying to get on this trauma course.’

      ‘You’re friends with Ellie.’ He grinned and then stopped, and so too did Alison. There was this charge in the air; it would be far safer to carry on writing, or just get up and go, but she didn’t, she just sat. ‘Are you going to have to get the bus wearing that? Only I can—’

      ‘I washed my uniform and begged them on the rehab ward to use their tumbledryer…’ She didn’t get to finish because screams filled the department and Nick jumped up as a man was stretchered in, sucking on the gas, in sheer agony at the prospect of being moved from the stretcher to the gurney.

      ‘Can I have a quick look before you move him? ‘

      His jeans had already been cut off and it was a rather horrible sight, his dislocated patella causing the whole leg to look deformed. It was an excruciating injury and Alison blinked as, without X-ray, without delay, Nick told the man to suck on the gas and with one flick popped it back.

      A shriek filled the department and then a sob and then the sound of relieved silence.

      ‘Let’s get him on the gurney and then we’ll need X-rays.’ He chatted for a moment to his extremely grateful patient, then chatted a bit more to the rather impressed paramedics, then he walked over to where Alison was now on the computer, checking some blood results, and she could feel the heat whoosh up her neck as he came over.

      ‘God, I’m good.’ He grinned and, yes, it was arrogant, but it was funny too, and Alison couldn’t help but smile as she rolled her eyes.

      ‘Yeah, but you know it.’

      He looked at her and he wanted to look away, to walk away, to remember he was there for reasons other than this, except there was something about Alison that was hard to resist. Something about her that meant stern warnings could so easily be ignored.

      ‘Hey…’ Moira dashed past ‘…are you coming to the beach later, Alison?’ She gave a hopeful glance at Nick. ‘There are a few of us going—Amy…’

      ‘Not for me,’ Alison said.

      ‘Or me!’ Nick said. Moira shrugged and moved on. It was like sugar to artificial sweetener, Nick decided, because sugar was something he was trying to give up too. Yes, sweeteners tasted okay, once you got used to them, and for a while there they sufficed, but sooner rather than later you went back for the real thing…. And maybe he should just go to the beach, or a bar, or just home and have that takeaway that Amy had offered. Instead he found himself asking Alison if she wanted to go for a coffee.

      ‘I’ve got a dentist appointment.’

      ‘Ouch.’ He pulled a sympathetic face. ‘Hope it’s not too painful.’

      ‘Oh, it’s just my six-monthly check-up.’ And she smiled, but it sort of faded as she turned back to the computer, because it just about summed her up.

      She had six-monthly check-ups, and when this one was done, no doubt, she’d do as she always did and while she was there make an appointment for the next one and write it in her diary, and she’d be there—she never missed.

      Same as her eight-weekly trim at the hairdresser’s.

      Same as she booked in the dog to be shampooed and clipped.

      She bet Nick hadn’t spent ages on the computer, researching dentists to ensure he didn’t miss his six-monthly check-up.

      The most gorgeous, sexy man was asking her for coffee and she’d turned him down for a dental appointment!

      ‘We could meet up afterwards, but not for long, I’ve got to look at that flat.’ She could hear her own words and inwardly reeled at them, and even as she mistyped the patient’s UR number she sounded almost blasé as she dipped in her toe and felt only warmth. ‘So long as I don’t end up getting a filling or something.’

      ‘Let’s just hope you’ve been flossing.’

      She had been.

      Alison lay in the chair with her mouth open as the dentist tapped each tooth in turn.

      Not a single filling.

      Again.

      He cleaned them, polished them and they felt like glass as she ran her tongue over them. As she paid and headed out, she didn’t get why she was so nervous.

      Why she wanted to just not show up.

      Because it might just be coffee and strudel and then she’d be disappointed, Alison thought as she stepped out onto the street with her sparkly clean teeth. Or, worse, it might be more than coffee and strudel.

      Maybe that was what he did—pick someone wherever he went, dazzle her with the full glare of his spotlight.

      And he really could dazzle.

      Since two minutes past six on Friday morning, he’d been on her mind.

      She rang her mum, told her she was having coffee with friends before she went to look at the flat, and as she turned the corner he was there already and looked up and smiled as she made her way over and took her seat at the pavement café.

      ‘How was the dentist?’

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