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Her Christmas Eve Diamond
Scarlet Wilson


Dear Reader
Christmas is my absolute favourite time of year. I spend every Christmas Eve praying for some snow to fall and hoping we’ll get a white Christmas. I love putting up my Christmas tree, wrapping presents, watching Christmas films, and most of all I love to see Christmas-themed books on the shelves—so much so I begged my editor to let me write one!
Cassidy Rae is a bit like me. She counts the number of Christmas trees in the house windows on the way to work and thrives on the Christmas spirit. But Brad Donovan doesn’t share her enthusiasm. Christmas is a painful time of year for him, reminding him of what has slipped out of his grasp. He’s just managing to keep his head above water and is looking for a distraction—anything to keep his mind off Christmas. So what happens when the Christmas fairy meets the Grinch? Read on and see.
What I can guarantee you is that there will be snowflakes on Christmas Eve!
Merry Christmas!
Scarlet Wilson
PS I love hearing from readers. Come and visit my website: www.scarlet-wilson.com

Praise for Scarlet Wilson:
‘Stirring, emotional and wonderfully absorbing,
IT STARTED WITH A PREGNANCY is an
impressive debut novel from a fabulous new voice
in category romance: Scarlet Wilson!’
—www.cataromance.com on IT STARTED WITH A PREGNANCY

Her Christmas Eve Diamond
Scarlet Wilson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the children
I’ve watched grow up over the years
from excitable toddlers into responsible adults.

Carissa Hyndman, Jordan Dickson, Dillon Glencross
and Carly Glencross. Life is what you make it—
reach for the stars!

And to my new editor Carly Byrne.
Thanks for all your support and encouragement.
Writing can be tricky business and you make it all
so much easier—I think we make a good team!

PROLOGUE
30 September
CASSIDY raised her hand and knocked on the dilapidated door. Behind her Lucy giggled nervously. ‘Are you sure this is the right address?’
Cassidy turned to stare at her. ‘You arranged this. How should I know?’ She glanced at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. ‘This is definitely number seventeen.’ She leaned backwards, looking at the 1960s curtains hanging in the secondary glazed double windows that rattled every time a bus went past. ‘Maybe nobody’s home?’ she said hopefully.
This had to be the worst idea she’d ever had. No. Correction. It hadn’t been her idea. In a moment of weakness she’d just agreed to come along with her colleagues to see what all the fuss was about.
‘Where did you find this one, Lucy?’
Lucy had spent the past year whisking her friends off to as many different fortune-tellers as possible. By all accounts, some were good, some were bad and some were just downright scary. Cassidy had always managed to wriggle out of it—until now.
‘This is the one my cousin Fran came to. She said she was fab.’
Cassidy raised her eyebrows. ‘Cousin Fran who went on the reality TV show and then spent the next week hiding in the cupboard?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Oh, great,’ sighed Cass.
‘I wonder if she’ll tell me how many children I’ll have,’ murmured Lynn dreamily. She stuck her pointed elbow into Cassidy’s ribs. ‘She told Lizzie King she’d have twins and she’s due any day now.’
‘I just want to know if Frank is ever going to propose,’ sighed Tamsin. ‘If she doesn’t see it in the future then I’m dumping him. Five years is long enough.’
Cassidy screwed up her nose and shook her head. ‘You can’t dump Frank because of something a fortune-teller says.’
But Tamsin had that expression on her face—the one that said, Don’t mess with me. ‘Watch me.’
There was a shuffle behind the door then a creak and the door swung open. ‘Hello, ladies, come on in.’
Cassidy blinked. The smell of cats hit her in the face like a steamroller.
She allowed the stampede behind her to thunder inside then took a deep breath of clean outside air, before pulling the door closed behind her. A mangy-looking cat wound its way around her legs. ‘Shoo!’ she hissed.
‘Come on, Cassidy!’
She plastered a smile on her face and joined her colleagues in smelly-cat-woman’s front room. The peeling noise beneath the soles of her feet told her that the carpet was sticky. She dreaded to think what with.
Her three friends were crowded onto the brown sofa. Another cat was crawling across the back of the sofa behind their heads. Cassidy’s eyes started to stream and she resisted the temptation to start rubbing them. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. Cat allergies did that to you.
‘So who wants to go first?’
Cassidy glanced at her watch. How had she got roped into this?
‘You go first, Cass,’ said Lucy, who turned to smelly-cat woman. ‘You’ll have to do a good job, Belinda. Our Cassidy’s a non-believer.’
The small, rotund woman eyed Cassidy up and down. Her brow was as wrinkled as her clothes. ‘This way, dear,’ she muttered, wandering down the hallway to another room.
Cassidy swallowed nervously. Maybe it would be easier to get this over and done with. Then at least she could wait outside in the car for the others.
The room was full of clutter. And cats.
As Belinda settled herself at one side of the table and shuffled some cards, Cassidy eyed the squashed easy chair on the other side. A huge marmalade cat was sitting in pride of place, blinking at her, daring her to move him.
Her gorgeous turquoise-blue velvet pea coat would attract cat hairs like teenage girls to a Bieber concert. She should just kiss it goodbye now.
‘Move, Lightning!’ Belinda kicked the chair and the cat gave her a hard stare before stretching on his legs and jumping from the seat, settling at her feet.
Cassidy couldn’t hide the smile from her face. It had to be the most inappropriately named cat—ever.
Belinda fixed her eyes on her. How could such a soft, round woman have such a steely glare? Her eyes weren’t even blinking. She was staring so hard Cass thought she would bore a hole through her skull.
She looked around her. Books everywhere. Piles of magazines. Shelves and shelves of ornaments, all looking as though they could do with a good dust. Another allergy to set off. One, two, no, three … no, there was another one hiding in the corner. Four cats in the room. All looking at her as if she shouldn’t be there. Maybe they knew something that she didn’t.
‘So, what do we do?’ she asked quickly.
Belinda’s face had appeared kindly, homely when she’d answered the door. But in here, when it was just the two of them, she looked like a cold and shrewd businesswoman. Cassidy wondered if she could read the thoughts currently in her head. That would account for the light-sabre stare.
Belinda shuffled the cards again. ‘We can do whatever you prefer.’ She spread the cards face down on the table. ‘I can read your cards.’ She reached over and grabbed hold of Cassidy’s hand. ‘I can read your palm. Or …’ she glanced around the room ‘… I can channel some spirits and see what they’ve got to say.’
The thought sent a chill down Cassidy’s spine. She wasn’t sure she believed any of this. But she certainly didn’t want to take the risk of channelling any unwanted spirits.
The TV special she’d watched the other day had claimed that all of this was based on reading people. Seeing the tiny, almost imperceptible reactions they had to certain words, certain gestures. Cassidy had come here tonight determined not to move a muscle, not even to blink. But her cat allergy seemed to have got the better of her, and her eyes were a red, blinking, streaming mess. So much for not moving.
She didn’t like the look of the cards either. Knowing her luck, she’d turn over the death card—or the equivalent of the Joker.
‘Let’s just do the palm, please.’ It seemed the simplest option. How much could anyone get from some lines on a palm?
Belinda leaned across the table, taking Cassidy’s slim hand and wrist and encapsulating them in her pudgy fingers. There was something quite soothing about it. She wasn’t examining Cassidy’s palm—just holding her hand. Stroking her fingers across the back of her hand for a few silent minutes, then turning her hand over and touching the inside of her palm.
A large smile grew across her face.
The suspense was killing her. Cassidy didn’t like long silences. ‘What is it?’
Belinda released her hand. ‘You’re quite the little misery guts, aren’t you?’
‘What?’ Cassidy was stunned. The last she’d heard, these people were only supposed to tell you good things. And certainly not assassinate your character.
Belinda nodded. ‘On the surface you’re quite the joker with your friends at work. On the other hand, you always see the glass half-empty. Very self-deprecating. All signs of insecurity.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But very particular at work. Your attention to detail makes you hard to work with. Some of your colleagues just don’t know how to take you. And as for men …’
‘What?’ Right now, men were the last thing on her mind. And the word ‘insecurity’ had hit a nerve she didn’t want to acknowledge. It was bad enough having parents who jet-setted around the world, without having a fiancé who’d upped and left. The last thing she wanted was some random stranger pointing it out to her.
‘You’re a clever girl, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right at the end of your nose.’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve got some very fixed ideas, and you’re not very good at the art of compromise. Just as well Christmas is coming up.’
Cassidy was mad now. ‘What’s that got to do with anything? Christmas is still three months away.’
Belinda folded her arms across her chest, a smug expression on her face. ‘You’re going to be a Christmas bride.’
‘What?’
The woman had clearly lost her cat-brained mind.
‘How on earth can I be a Christmas bride? It’s October tomorrow, and I don’t have a boyfriend. And there’s nobody I’m even remotely interested in.’
Belinda tapped the side of her nose, giving her shoulders an annoying little shrug. ‘I only see the future. I don’t tell you how you’re going to get there.’ She leaned over and touched the inside of Cassidy’s palm. ‘I can see you as a Christmas bride, along with a very handsome groom—not from around these parts either. Lucky you.’
Cassidy shook her head firmly. It had taken her months to get over her broken engagement to her Spanish fiancé—and it had not been an experience she wanted to repeat. ‘You’re absolutely wrong. There’s no way I’m going to be a Christmas bride. And particularly not with a groom from elsewhere. I’ve had it with foreign men. The next man I hook up with will be a true fellow Scot, through and through.’
Belinda gave her the look. The look that said, You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.
‘That’s us, then.’
Cassidy was aghast. Twenty quid for that? ‘That’s it?’
Belinda nodded and waved her hand. ‘Send the next one in.’
Cassidy hesitated for a second, steeling herself to argue with the woman. But then the fat orange cat brushed against her legs and leapt up onto the chair beside her, determined to shed its thousands of orange cat hairs over her velvet coat. She jumped up. At least she was over and done with. She could wait outside in the car. It was almost worth the twenty quid for that alone.
She walked along the corridor, mumbling to herself, attempting to brush a big wad of clumped cat hair from her coat.
‘Are you done already? What did she tell you?’
Cassidy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s not even worth repeating.’ She jerked her head down the corridor. ‘Go on, Tamsin. Go and find out when you’re getting your proposal.’
Tamsin still had that determined look on her face. She stood up and straightened her pristine black mac—no orange cat hairs for her. ‘You mean if I’m getting my proposal.’ She swept down the corridor and banged the door closed behind her.
Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘Heaven help Belinda if she doesn’t tell Tam what she wants to hear.’ She turned back to Cassidy. ‘Come on, then, spill. What did she say?’
Cassidy blew out a long, slow breath through pursed lips. She was annoyed at being called a ‘misery guts.’ And she was beyond irritated at being called insecure. ‘I’m apparently going to be a Christmas bride.’
‘What?’ Lucy’s and Lynn’s voices were in perfect tandem with their matching shocked expressions.
‘Just as well Tamsin didn’t hear that,’ Lucy muttered.
‘Oh, it gets worse. Apparently my groom is from foreign climes.’ She rolled her eyes again. ‘As if.’
But Lucy’s and Lynn’s expressions had changed, smiles creeping across their faces as their eyes met.
‘Told you.’
‘No way.’
Cassidy watched in bewilderment as they high-fived each other in the dingy sitting room.
‘What’s with you two? You know the whole thing’s ridiculous. As if I’m going to date another foreign doctor.’
Lynn folded her arms across her chest. ‘Stranger things have happened.’ She had a weird look on her face. As if she knew something that Cassidy didn’t.
Lucy adopted the same pose, shoulder to shoulder with Lynn. Almost as if they were ganging up on her.
Her gaze narrowed. ‘I’m willing to place a bet that Belinda could be right.’
Cassidy couldn’t believe what was happening. The crazy-cat-woman’s disease was obviously contagious. A little seed planted in her brain. She could use this to her advantage. ‘What’s it worth?’
Lucy frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Cassidy smiled. ‘I’ll take that bet. But what’s it worth?’
‘Night shift Christmas Eve. Oh.’ The words were out before Lucy had had time to think about them. She had her hand across her mouth. It was the most hated shift on the planet. Every year they had to draw straws to see who would take it.
‘You’re on.’ Cassidy held out her hand towards Lucy, who nodded and shook it firmly. She had no chance of losing this bet. No chance at all.

CHAPTER ONE
1 October
CASSIDY pulled the navy-blue tunic over her head. These new-style NHS uniforms were supposed to be made from a revolutionary lightweight fabric, designed for comfort and ease of fit. The reality was they were freezing and not designed for Scottish winters in a draughty old hospital. She pulled a cardigan from her locker and headed for the stairs. Maybe running up three flights would take the chill out of her bones.
Two minutes later she arrived in the medical ward. She took a deep breath. There it was. The hospital smell. Some people hated it and shuddered walking through the very doors of the hospital. But Cassidy loved it—it was like a big security blanket, and she’d missed it. It was just before seven and the lights were still dimmed. Ruby, the night nurse, gave her a smile. ‘Nice to see you back, Cassidy. How was the secondment?’
Cassidy nodded, wrapping her cardigan further around her torso. Her temperature was still barely above freezing. ‘It was fine, but three months was long enough. The new community warfarin clinic is set up—all the teething problems ironed out. To be honest, though, I’m glad to be back. I missed this place.’
And she had. But at the time the three-month secondment had been perfect for her. It had given her the chance to sort out all the hassles with her gran, work regular hours and get her settled into the new nursing home—the second in a year. Her eyes swept over the whiteboard on the wall, displaying all the patient names, room numbers and named nurses. ‘No beds?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘Actually, we’ve got one. But A and E just phoned to say they’re sending us an elderly lady with a chest infection, so I’ve put her name up on the board already. She should be up in the next ten minutes.’
Cassidy gave a nod as the rest of the day-shift staff appeared, gathering around the nurses’ station for the handover report. She waited patiently, listening to the rundown of the thirty patients currently in her general medical ward, before assigning the patients to the nurses on duty and accepting the keys for the medicine and drugs cabinets.
She heard the ominous trundle of a trolley behind her. ‘I’ll admit this patient,’ she told her staff. ‘It’ll get me back into the swing of things.’
She looked up as Bill, one of the porters, arrived, pulling the trolley with the elderly woman lying on top. A doctor was walking alongside them, carrying some notes and chatting to the elderly lady as they wheeled her into one of the side rooms. He gave her a smile—one that could have launched a thousand toothpaste campaigns. ‘This is Mrs Elizabeth Kelly. She’s eighty-four and has a history of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. She’s had a chest infection for the last seven days that hasn’t responded to oral antibiotics. Her oxygen saturation is down at eighty-two and she’s tachycardic. The doctor on call wanted her admitted for IV antibiotics.’
For a moment the strong Australian accent threw her—she hadn’t been expecting it. Though goodness knows why not. Her hospital in the middle of Glasgow attracted staff from all over the world. His crumpled blue scrubs and even more crumpled white coat looked as though he’d slept in them—and judging by his blond hair, sticking up in every direction but the right one, he probably had.
She didn’t recognise him, which meant he must be one of the new doctors who had started while she was away on secondment. And he was too handsome by far. And that cheeky twinkle in his eye was already annoying her.
After three months away, some things appeared to have changed around the hospital. It was usually one of the A and E nurses who accompanied the patient up to the ward.
Cassidy pumped up the bed and removed the headboard, pulling the patslide from the wall and sliding the patient over into the bed. The doctor helped her put the headboard back on and adjusted the backrest, rearranging the pillows so Mrs Kelly could sit upright. Cassidy attached the monitoring equipment and changed the oxygen supply over to the wall. The doctor was still standing looking at her.
For a second she almost thought he was peering at her breasts, but as she followed his gaze downwards she realised her name and designation was stitched on the front of her new tunics.
She held out her hand towards him. ‘Cassidy Rae. Sister of the medical receiving unit. Though from the way you’re staring at my breasts, I take it you’ve gathered that.’
His warm hand caught her cold one, his eyes twinkling. ‘Pleased to meet you, Dragon Lady. I hope your heart isn’t as cold as your hands.’
She pulled her hand away from his. ‘What did you call me?’
‘Dragon Lady.’ He looked unashamed by the remark. ‘Your reputation precedes you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, although from what I hear it’s usually you who does the name-calling.’
She folded her arms across her chest, trying to stop the edges of her mouth turning upwards. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ She picked up the patient clothing bag and bent down, starting to unpack Mrs Kelly’s belongings into the cabinet next to her bed.
‘I heard you called the last lot Needy, Greedy and Seedy.’
She jumped. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. He’d bent forward and whispered in her ear.
‘Who told you that?’ she asked incredulously. She glanced at her watch. Ten past seven on her first morning back, and already some smart-alec doc was trying to get the better of her.
‘Oh, give me a minute.’ The mystery doctor ducked out of the room.
It was true. She had nicknamed the last three registrars—all for obvious reasons. One had spent every waking minute eating, the other hadn’t seen a patient without someone holding his hand, and as for the last one, he’d spent his year sleazing over all the female staff. And while the nursing staff knew the nicknames she’d given them, she’d no idea who’d told one of the new docs. She’d need to investigate that later.
She stood up and adjusted Mrs Kelly’s venturi mask, taking a note of her thin frame and pale, papery skin. Another frail, elderly patient, just like her gran. She altered the alarms on the monitor—at their present setting they would sound every few minutes. With a history of COPD, Mrs Kelly had lower than normal oxygen levels.
‘How are you feeling?’ She picked up the tympanic thermometer and placed it in Mrs Kelly’s ear, pressing the button to read her temperature then recording her observations in the chart. Mrs Kelly shook her pale head.
She sat down at the side of the bed. ‘I need to take some details from you, Mrs Kelly. But how about I get you something to eat and drink first? I imagine you were stuck down in A and E for hours. Would you like some tea? Some toast?’
‘Your wish is my command.’ The steaming cup of tea and plate of buttered toast thudded down on the bedside table. ‘See, Mrs Kelly? I make good on my promises.’ He shook his head at Cassidy. ‘There was nothing to eat down in A and E and I promised I’d get her some tea once we got up here.’
‘Thank you, son,’ Mrs Kelly said, shifting her mask and lifting the cup to her lips, ‘My throat is so dry.’
He nodded slowly. Oxygen therapy frequently made patients’ mouths dry and it was important to keep them hydrated.
Cassidy stared at him. Things had changed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a doctor make a patient a cup of tea. It was almost unheard of.
She smiled at him. ‘Makes me almost wish we could keep you,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve obviously been well trained.’
His blue eyes glinted. ‘And what makes you think you can’t keep me?’
‘I imagine A and E will have a whole load of patients waiting for you. Why did you come up here anyway? Was it to steal our chocolates?’ She nodded towards the nursing station. The medical receiving unit was never short of chocolates, and it wasn’t unknown for the doctors from other departments to sneak past and steal some.
He shook his head, the smile still stuck on his face. He held out his hand towards her. ‘I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m one of yours—though I dread to think what nickname you’ll give me. Brad Donovan, medical registrar.’
Cassidy felt herself jerk backwards in surprise. He looked too young to be a medical registrar. Maybe it was the scruffy hair? Or the Australian tan? Or maybe it was that earring glinting in his ear, along with the super-white teeth? He didn’t look like any registrar she’d ever met before.
Something twisted inside her gut. No, that wasn’t quite true. Bobby. For a tiny second he reminded her of Bobby. But Bobby’s hair had been dark, not blond, and he’d worn it in a similar scruffy style and had the same glistening white teeth. She pushed all thoughts away. She hadn’t thought about him in months. Where had that come from?
She focused her mind. This was a work colleague—albeit a cheeky one. She shook his hand firmly. ‘Well, Dr Donovan, if you’re one of mine then maybe I should tell you the rules in my ward.’
His eyebrows rose, an amused expression on his face. ‘You really are the Dragon Lady, aren’t you?’
She ignored him. ‘When you finally manage to put some clothes on, no silly ties. In fact, no ties at all and no long sleeves. They’re an infection-control hazard.’ She ran her eyes up and down his crumpled scrubs, ‘Though from the look of you, that doesn’t seem to be a problem. Always use the gel outside the patients’ rooms before you touch them. And pay attention to what my nurses tell you—they spend most of their day with the patients and will generally know the patients ten times better than you will.’
His blue eyes fixed on hers. Quite unnerving for this time in the morning. His gaze was straight and didn’t falter. The guy was completely unfazed by her. He seemed confident, self-assured. She would have to wait and see if his clinical competence matched his demeanour.
‘I have been working here for the last two months without your rulebook. I’m sure your staff will give me a good report.’ She resisted the temptation to reply. Of course her staff would give him a good report. He was like a poster boy for Surfers’ Central. She could put money on it that he’d spent the last two months charming her staff with his lazy accent, straight white teeth and twinkling eyes. He handed her Mrs Kelly’s case notes and prescription chart.
‘I’ve written Mrs Kelly up for some IV antibiotics, some oral steroids and some bronchodilators. She had her arterial blood gases done in A and E and I’ll check them again in a few hours. I’d like her on four-hourly obs in the meantime.’ He glanced at the oxygen supply, currently running at four litres. ‘Make sure she stays on the twenty-eight per cent venturi mask. One of the students in A and E didn’t understand the complications of COPD and put her on ten litres of straight oxygen.’
Cassidy’s mouth fell open. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
He shook his head. The effects could have been devastating. ‘Her intentions were good. Mrs Kelly’s lips were blue from lack of oxygen when she was admitted. The student just did what seemed natural. Luckily one of the other staff spotted her mistake quickly.’
Cassidy looked over at the frail, elderly lady on the bed, her oxygen mask currently dangling around her neck as she munched the toast from the plate in front of her. The blue tinge had obviously disappeared from her lips, but even eating the toast was adding to her breathlessness. She turned back to face Brad. ‘Any relatives?’
He shook his head. ‘Her husband died a few years ago and her daughter emigrated to my neck of the woods ten years before that.’ He pointed to a phone number in the records. ‘Do you want me to phone her, or do you want to do that?’
Cassidy felt a little pang. This poor woman must be lonely. She’d lost her husband, and her daughter lived thousands of miles away. Who did she speak to every day? One of the last elderly patients admitted to her ward had disclosed that often he went for days without a single person to speak to. Loneliness could be a terrible burden.
The doctor passed in front of her vision again, trying to catch her attention, and she pushed the uncomfortable thoughts from her head. This one was definitely too good to be true. Bringing up a patient, making tea and toast, and offering to phone relatives?
Her internal radar started to ping. She turned to Mrs Kelly. ‘I’ll let you finish your tea and come back in a few minutes.
‘What are you up to?’ She headed out the door towards the nursing station.
He fell into step beside her. ‘What do you mean?’
She paused in the corridor, looking him up and down. ‘You’re too good to be true. Which means alarm bells are ringing in my head. What’s with the nice-boy act?’
She pulled up the laptop from the nurses’ station and started to input some of Mrs Kelly’s details.
‘Who says it’s an act?’
Her eyes swept down the corridor. The case-note trolley had been pulled to the end of the corridor. Two other doctors in white coats were standing, talking over some notes. She looked at her watch—not even eight o’clock. ‘And who are they?’
Brad smiled. ‘That’s the other registrars. Luca is from Italy, and Franco is from Hungary. They must have wanted to get a head start on the ward round.’ He gave her a brazen wink. ‘I guess they heard the Dragon Lady was on duty today.’
She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I go on secondment for three months, come back and I’ve got the poster boy for Surfers’ Paradise making tea and toast for patients and two other registrars in the ward before eight a.m. Am I still dreaming? Have I woken up yet?’
‘Why?’ As quick as a flash he’d moved around beside her. ‘Am I the kind of guy you dream about?’
‘Get lost, flyboy.’ She pushed Mrs Kelly’s case notes back into his hands. ‘You’ve got a patient’s daughter in Australia to go and phone. Make yourself useful while I go and find out what kind of support system she has at home.’
He paused for a second, his eyes narrowing. ‘She’s not even heated up the bed yet and you’re planning on throwing her back out?’
Cassidy frowned. ‘It’s the basic principle of the receiving unit. Our first duty is to find out what systems are in place for our patients. Believe it or not, most of them don’t like staying here. And if we plan ahead it means there’s less chance of a delayed discharge. Sometimes it can take a few days to set up support systems to get someone home again.’ She raised her hand to the whiteboard with patient names. ‘In theory, we’re planning for their discharge as soon as they enter A and E.’
The look on his face softened. ‘In that case, I’ll let you off.’ He nodded towards his fellow doctors. ‘Maybe they got the same alarm call that I did. Beware the Dragon!’ He headed towards the doctors’ office to make his call.
Dragon Lady was much more interesting than he’d been led to believe. He’d expected a sixty-year-old, grey-haired schoolmarm. Instead he’d got a young woman with a slim, curvy figure, chestnut curls and deep brown eyes. And she was feisty. He liked that.
Cassidy Rae could be fun. There it was, that strange, almost unfamiliar feeling. That first glimmer of interest in a woman. That tiny little thought that something could spark between them given half a chance. It had been so long since he’d felt it that he almost didn’t know what to do about it.
He’d been here a few months, and while his colleagues were friendly, they weren’t his ‘friends’. And he didn’t want to hang around with the female junior doctors currently batting their eyelids at him. Experience had taught him it was more trouble than it was worth.
Distraction. The word echoed around his head again as he leaned against the cold concrete wall.
Exactly what he needed. Something to keep his mind from other things—like another Christmas Day currently looming on the horizon with a huge black storm-cloud hovering over it. He’d even tried to juggle the schedules so he could be working on Christmas Day. But no such luck. His Italian colleague had beat him to it, and right now he couldn’t bear the thought of an empty Christmas Day in strange surroundings with no real friends or family.
Another Christmas spent wondering where his little girl was, if she was enjoying her joint birthday and Christmas Day celebrations. Wondering if she even remembered he existed.
He had no idea what she’d been told about him. The fact he’d spent the last eighteen months trying to track down his daughter at great time and expense killed him—especially in the run-up to her birthday. Everyone else around him was always full of festive spirit and fun, and no matter how hard he tried not to be the local misery guts, something inside him just felt dead.
Christmas was about families and children. And the one thing he wanted to do was sit his little girl on his knee and get her the biggest birthday and Christmas present in the world. If only he knew where she was …
There was that fist again, hovering around his stomach, tightly clenched. Every time he thought of his daughter, Melody, the visions of her mother, Alison, a junior doctor he’d worked with, appeared in his head. Alison, the woman who only liked things her way or no way at all. No negotiation. No compromise.
More importantly, no communication.
The woman who’d left a bitter taste in his mouth for the last eighteen months. Blighting every other relationship he’d tried to have. The woman who’d wrangled over every custody arrangement, telling him he was impinging on her life. Then one day that had been it. Nothing. He’d gone to pick up two-year-old Melody as planned and had turned up at an empty house. No forwarding address. Nothing.
The colleagues at the hospital where Alison had worked said she’d thought about going to America—apparently she’d fallen head over heels in love with some American doctor. But no one knew where. And he’d spent the last few years getting his solicitor to chase false leads halfway around the world. It had taken over his whole world. Every second of every day had revolved around finding his daughter. Until he’d finally cracked and some good friends had sat him down firmly and spoken to him.
It had only been in the last few months, since moving to Scotland, that he’d finally started to feel like himself again. His laid-back manner had returned, and he’d finally started to relax and be comfortable in his own skin again.
While he would still do everything in his power to find his daughter, he had to realise his limitations. He had to accept the fact he hadn’t done anything wrong and he still deserved to live a life.
And while the gaggle of nurses and female junior doctors didn’t appeal to him, Cassidy Rae did. She was a different kettle of fish altogether. A fierce, sassy woman who could help him make some sparks fly. A smile crept over his face. Now there was just the small matter of the duty room to break to her. How would she react to that?
Cassidy went back to Mrs Kelly and finished her admission paperwork, rechecked her obs and helped her wash and change into a clean nightdress. By the time she’d finished, Mrs Kelly was clearly out of breath again. Even the slightest exertion seemed to fatigue her.
Cassidy hung the IV antibiotics from the drip stand and connected up the IV. ‘These will take half an hour to go through. The doctor has changed the type of antibiotic that you’re on so hopefully they’ll be more effective than the ones you were taking at home.’
Mrs Kelly nodded. ‘Thanks, love. He’s a nice one, isn’t he?’ There was a little pause. ‘And he’s single. Told me so himself.’
‘Who?’ Cassidy had started to tidy up around about her, putting away the toilet bag and basin.
‘That handsome young doctor. Reminds of that guy on TV. You know, the one from the soap opera.’
Cassidy shook her head. ‘I don’t watch soap operas. And anyway …’ she bundled up the used towels and sheets to put in the laundry trolley ‘… I’m looking for a handsome Scotsman. Not someone from the other side of the world.’
She walked over to the window. The old hospital building was several storeys high, on the edge of the city. The grey clouds were hanging low this morning and some drizzly rain was falling outside, but she could still see some greenery in the distance.
‘Why on earth would anyone want to leave all this behind?’ she joked.
Mrs Kelly raised her eyebrows. ‘Why indeed?’
Cassidy spent the rest of the morning finding her feet again in the ward. The hospital computer system had been updated, causing her to lose half her patients at the touch of a button. And the automated pharmacy delivery seemed to be on the blink again. Some poor patients’ medicines would be lost in a pod stuck in a tube somewhere.
Lucy appeared from the ward next door, clutching a cup of tea, and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘How does it feel to be back?’
Cassidy gave her friend a smile. ‘It’s good.’ She picked up the off-duty book. ‘I just need to get my head around the rosters again.’ Her eyes fell on the sticky notes inside the book and she rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, great. Seven members of staff want the same weekend off.’
Lucy laughed. ‘That’s nothing. One of our girls got married last weekend and I had to rope in two staff from the next ward to cover the night shift. Got time for a tea break?’
She shook her head and pointed down the corridor. ‘The consultant’s just about to arrive for the ward round.’
Lucy crossed her arms across her chest as she followed Cassidy’s gaze to the three registrars at the bottom of the corridor. ‘So what do you make of our new docs?’
Cassidy never even lifted her head. ‘Funky, Chunky and Hunky?’
Lucy spluttered tea all down the front of her uniform. She looked at her watch. ‘Less than two hours and you’ve got nicknames for them already?’
Cassidy lifted her eyebrows. ‘It wasn’t hard. Although Luca is drop-dead gorgeous, he’s more interested in his own reflection than any of the patients. And Franco has finished off two rolls with sausages and half a box of chocolates in the last half hour.’
‘So none of them have caught your eye, then?’
Cassidy turned her head at the tone in her friend’s voice. She looked at her suspiciously. ‘Why? What are you up to?’
Lucy’s gaze was still fixed down the corridor. ‘Nothing. I just wondered what you thought of them.’ She started to shake her behind as she wiggled past, singing along about single ladies.
Cassidy looked back down the corridor. Her eyes were drawn in one direction. Brad’s appearance hadn’t improved. He was still wearing his crumpled scrubs and coat. His hair was still untamed and she could see a shadow around his jaw.
But he had spent nearly half an hour talking to Mrs Kelly’s daughter and then another half hour talking Mrs Kelly through her treatment for the next few days. Then trying to persuade her that once she was fit and well, she might want to take up her daughter’s offer of a visit to Australia.
Most doctors she worked with weren’t that interested in their patients’ holistic care. Their radar seemed to switch off as soon as they’d made a clinical diagnosis.
There was the sound of raucous laughter at the end of the corridor, and Cassidy looked up to see Brad almost bent double, talking to one of the male physios.
She shook her head and scoured the ward, looking for one of the student nurses. ‘Karen?’
The student scuttled over. ‘Yes, Sister?’
‘Do you know how to assess a patient for the risk of pressure ulcers?’
The student nodded quickly as Cassidy handed her a plastic card with the Waterlow scale on it. ‘I want you to do Mrs Kelly’s assessment then come back and we’ll go over it together.’
Karen nodded and hurried off down the corridor. Cassidy watched for a second. With her paper-thin skin, poor nutrition and lack of circulating oxygen, Mrs Kelly was at real risk of developing pressure sores on her body. For Cassidy, the teaching element was one of the reasons she did this job. She wanted all the students who came through her ward to understand the importance of considering all aspects of their patients’ care.
There was a thud beside her. Brad was in the chair next to her, his head leaning on one hand, staring at her again with those blue eyes. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. ‘So, which one am I?’
Cassidy blew a wayward chestnut curl out of her face. ‘What are you talking about now?’
He moved closer. ‘Hunky, Chunky or Funky? Which one am I?’ He put his hands together and pleaded in front of her. ‘Please tell me I’m Hunky.’
‘How on earth did you …?’ Her eyes looked down the corridor to where Pete, the physio, was in conversation with one of the other doctors. He must have overheard her. ‘Oh, forget it.’
She wrinkled her nose at him, leaning forward wickedly so nobody could hear. ‘No way are you Hunky. That’s reserved for the Italian god named Luca.’ Her eyes fell on Luca, standing talking to one of her nurses. She whispered in Brad’s ear, ‘Have you noticed how he keeps checking out his own reflection in those highly polished Italian shoes of his?’
Brad’s shoulders started to shake.
She prodded him on the shoulder. ‘No. With that excuse of a haircut and that strange earring, you’re definitely Funky.’ She pointed at his ear. ‘What is that anyway?’
Her head came forward, her nose just a few inches off his ear as she studied the twisted bit of gold in his ear. ‘Is it a squashed kangaroo? Or a surfboard?’
‘Neither.’ He grinned at her, turning his head so their noses nearly touched. ‘Believe it or not, it used to be a boomerang. My mum bought it for me when I was a teenager and I won a competition.’ He touched it with his finger. ‘It’s a little bent out of shape now.’
Her face was serious and he could smell her per-fume—or her shampoo. She smelled of strawberries. A summer smell, even though it was the middle of winter in Glasgow. He was almost tempted to reach out and touch her chestnut curls, resting just above her collarbone. But she was staring at him with those big chocolate-brown eyes. And he didn’t want to move.
If this was the Dragon Lady of the medical receiving unit, he wondered if he could be her St George and try to tame her. No. That was the English patron saint and he was in Scotland. He’d learned quickly not to muddle things up around here. The Scots he’d met were wildly patriotic.
Her face broke into a smile again. Interesting. She hadn’t pulled back, even though they were just inches from each other. She didn’t seem intimidated by his closeness. In any other circumstances he could have leaned forward and given her a kiss. A perfect example of the sort of distraction he needed.
‘Come to think of it, though …’ She glanced up and down his crumpled clothes. How could she ever have thought he reminded her of Bobby? Bobby wouldn’t have been seen dead in crumpled clothes. He’d always been immaculate—Brad was an entirely different kettle of fish. ‘If you keep coming into my ward dressed like that, I’ll have to change your name from Funky to Skunky.’
Brad automatically sat backwards in his chair, lowering his chin and sniffing. ‘Why, do I smell? I was on call last night and I haven’t been in the shower yet.’ He started to pull at his scrub top.
She loved it. The expression of worry on his face. The way she could so easily wind him up. And the fact he had a good demeanour with the patients and staff. This guy might even be a little fun to have around. Even if he was from the other side of the world.
She shook her head. ‘Stop panicking, Brad. You don’t smell.’ She rested her head on her hands for a second, fixing him with her eyes. Mornings on the medical receiving unit were always chaotic. Patients to be moved to other wards, new admissions and usually a huge battery of tests to be arranged. Sometimes it was nice just to take a few seconds of calm, before chaos erupted all around you.
He reached over and touched her hand, resting on top of the off-duty book. The invisible electric jolt that shot up her arm was instantaneous.
‘I could help you with those. The last place I worked in Australia had a computer system for duty rosters.
You just put in the names, your shift patterns and the requests. It worked like a charm.’
Her eyes hadn’t left where his hand was still touching hers. It was definitely lingering there. She’d just met this guy.
‘You’re going to be a pest, aren’t you?’ Her voice was low. For some reason she couldn’t stop staring at him. It didn’t help that he was easy on the eye. And that scraggy hair was kind of growing on her.
He leaned forward again. ‘Is that going to be a problem?’ His eyes were saying a thousand different words from his mouth. Something was in the air between them. She could practically feel the air around her crackle. This was ridiculous. She felt like a swooning teenager.
‘My gran had a name for people like you.’
He moved even closer. ‘And what was that?’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Handsome? Clever? Smart?’
She shook her head and stood up, straightening her tunic. ‘Oh, no. It was much more fitting. My gran would have called you a “wee scunner”.’
His brow wrinkled. ‘What on earth does that mean?’
‘Just like I told you. A nuisance. A pest. But it’s a much more accurate description.’ She headed towards the duty room, with the off-duty book in her hand. She had to get away from him. Her brain had taken leave of her senses. She should have taken Lucy up on that offer of tea.
Brad caught her elbow. ‘Actually, Cassidy, about your duty room …’
He stopped as she pushed the door open and automatically stepped inside, her foot catching on something.
‘Wh-h-a-a-t?’

CHAPTER TWO
CASSIDY stared up at the white ceiling of her duty room, the wind knocked clean out of her. Something was sticking into her ribcage and she squirmed, causing an array of perilously perched cardboard boxes to topple over her head. She squealed again, batting her hands in front of her face.
A strong pair of arms grabbed her wrists and yanked her upwards, standing her on the only visible bit of carpet in the room—right at the doorway.
Brad was squirming. ‘Sorry about that, Cassidy. I was trying to warn you but …’
He stopped in mid-sentence. She looked mad. She looked really mad. Her chestnut curls were in complete disarray, falling over her face and hiding her angry eyes. ‘What is all this rubbish?’ she snapped.
Brad cleared his throat. ‘Well, actually, it’s not “rubbish”, as you put it. It’s mine.’ He bent over and started pushing some files back into an overturned box. They were the last thing he wanted anyone to see.
Her face was growing redder by the second. She looked down at her empty hand—obviously wondering where the off-duty book she’d been holding had got to. She bent forward to look among the upturned boxes then straightened up, shaking her head in disgust.
She planted her hands on her hips. ‘You’d better have a good explanation for this. No wonder you were giving me the treatment.’
‘What treatment?’
She waved her hand in dismissal. ‘You know. The smiles. The whispers. The big blue eyes.’ She looked at him mockingly. ‘You must take me for a right sap.’
All of a sudden Brad understood the Dragon Lady label. When she was mad, she was mad. Heaven help the doctor who messed up on her watch.
He leaned against the doorjamb. ‘I wasn’t giving you the treatment, as you put it, Cassidy. I was trying to connect with the sister of the ward I work in. We’re going to have to work closely together, and I’d like it if we were friends.’
Her face softened ever so slightly. She looked at the towering piles of boxes obliterating her duty room. ‘And all this?’
He shot her a smile. ‘Yes, well, there’s a story about all that.’
She ran her fingers through her hair, obviously attempting to re-tame it. He almost wished he could do it for her. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve moved in.’
He laughed. ‘No. It’s not that desperate. I got caught short last night and was flung out of my flat, so I had to bring all my stuff here rather than leave it all sitting in the street.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you mean, you got caught short? That sounds suspiciously like you were having a party at five in the morning and the landlord threw you out.’
Brad nodded slowly. ‘Let’s just say I broke one of the rules of my tenancy.’
‘Which one?’
‘Now, that would be telling.’ He pulled a set of keys from his pocket with a brown tag attached. ‘But help is at hand. I’ve got a new flat I can move into tonight—if I can find it.’
‘What do you mean—if you can find it?’ Cassidy bent over and read the squiggly writing on the tag.
Brad shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dowangate Lane. I’m not entirely sure where it is. One of the porters put me onto it at short notice. I needed somewhere that was furnished and was available at short notice. He says its only five minutes away from here, but I don’t recognise the street name.’
Cassidy gave him a suspicious look. ‘I don’t suppose anyone told you that I live near there.’
‘Really? No, I’d no idea. Can you give me some directions?’
Cassidy sighed. ‘Sure. Go out the front of the hospital, take a left, walk a few hundred yards down the road, take a right, go halfway down the street and go down the nearby close. Dowangate Lane runs diagonally off it. But the street name fell off years ago.’
Cassidy had a far-away look in her eyes and was gesturing with her arms. Her voice got quicker and quicker as she spoke, her Scottish accent getting thicker by the second.
‘I have no idea what you just said.’
Cassidy stared at him—hard. ‘It would probably be easier if I just showed you.’
‘Really? Would you?’
‘If it means you’ll get all this rubbish out of my duty room, it will be worth it.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Do you want my help or not?’
He bent forward and caught her gesturing arms. ‘I would love your help, Cassidy Rae. How does six o’clock sound?’ There it was again—that strawberry scent from her hair. That could become addictive.
She stopped talking. He could feel the little goose-bumps on her bare arms. Was she cold? Or was it something else?
Whatever it was, he was feeling it, too. Not some wild, throw-her-against-the-wall attraction, although he wouldn’t mind doing that. It was weird. Some kind of connection.
Maybe he wasn’t the only person looking for a Christmastime distraction.
She was staring at him with those big brown eyes again. Only a few seconds must have passed but it felt like minutes.
He could almost hear her thought processes. As if she was wondering what was happening between them, too.
‘Six o’clock will be fine,’ she said finally, as she lowered her eyes and brushed past him.
Brad hung his white coat up behind the door and pulled his shirt over his head. He paused midway. What was he going to do with it?
Cass stuck her head around the door. ‘Are you ready yet?’ Her eyes caught the tanned, taut abdomen and the words stuck in her throat. She felt the colour rush into her cheeks. ‘Oops, sorry.’ She pulled back from the door.
All of a sudden she felt like a teenager again. And trust him to have a set of to-die-for abs. Typical. There was no way she was ever taking her clothes off in front of Mr Ripped Body.
Where had that come from? Why on earth would she ever take her clothes off in front of him? That was it. She was clearly losing her marbles.
Almost automatically, she sucked in her stomach and looked downwards. Her pink jumper hid a multitude of sins, so why on earth was she bothering?
Brad’s hand rested on the edge of the door as he stuck his head back round. ‘Don’t be so silly, Cassidy. You’re a nurse. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before. Come back in. I’ll be ready in a second.’
She swallowed the huge lump at the back of her throat. His shoulder was still bare. He was obviously used to stripping off in front of women and was completely uninhibited.
So why did that thought rankle her?
She took a deep breath and stepped back into the room, trying to avert her eyes without being obvious. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was embarrassed. With an attitude like his, she’d never live it down.
He was rummaging in a black holdall. Now she could see the muscles across his back. No love handles for him. He yanked a pale blue T-shirt from the bag and pulled it over his head, turning round and tugging it down over his washboard stomach.
‘Ready. Can we go?’
Cassidy had a strange expression on her face. Brad automatically looked down. Did he have a huge ketchup stain on his T-shirt? Not that he could see. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, matching the soft pink jumper she was wearing. A jumper that hugged the shape of her breasts very nicely. Pink was a good colour on her. It brought out the warm tones in her face and hair that had sometimes been lost in the navy-blue tunic she’d been wearing earlier. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a short ponytail, with a few wayward curls escaping. She was obviously serious about helping him move. No fancy coats and stiletto heels for her. Which was just as well as there were around fifty boxes to lug over to his new flat.
‘Will you manage to carry some of these boxes down to my car?’
‘I’ll do better than that.’ She opened the door to reveal one of the porters’ trolleys for transporting boxes of equipment around the hospital. The huge metal cage could probably take half of his boxes in one run.
‘Genius. You might be even more useful than I thought.’
‘See, I’m not just a pretty face,’ she shot back, to his cheeky remark. ‘You do realise this is going to cost you, don’t you?’ She pulled the cage towards the duty room, letting him stand in the doorway and toss out boxes that she piled up methodically.
‘How much?’ As he tossed one of the boxes, the cardboard flaps sprang open, spilling his boxers and socks all over the floor.
Cassidy couldn’t resist. The colours of every imagination caught her eyes and she lifted up a pair with Elmo from Sesame Street emblazoned on the front. ‘Yours?’ she asked, allowing them to dangle from one finger.
He grabbed them. ‘Stop it.’ He started ramming them back into the box, before raising his eyebrows at her. ‘I’ll decide when you get to see my underwear.’
When. Not if. The thought catapulted through her brain as she tried to keep her mind on the job at hand. The boxes weren’t neatly packed or taped shut. And the way he kept throwing them at her was ruining her precision stacking in the metal cage.
‘Slow down,’ she muttered. ‘The more you irritate me, the more my price goes up. You’re currently hovering around a large pizza or a sweet-and-sour chicken. Keep going like this and you’ll owe me a beer as well.’
The cheeky grin appeared at her shoulder in an instant. ‘You think I won’t buy you a beer?’ He stared at the neatly stacked boxes. ‘Uh-oh. I sense a little obsessive behaviour. One of your staff warned me about wrecking the neatly packed boxes of gloves in the treatment room. I can see why.’
‘Nothing wrong with being neat and tidy.’ Cassidy straightened the last box. ‘Okay, I think that’s enough for now. We can take the rest downstairs on the second trip.’
Something flashed in front of his eyes. Something wicked. ‘You think so?’
He waited while she nodded, then as quick as a flash he shoved her in the cage, clicking the door behind her and pushing the cage down the corridor.
Cassidy let out a squeal. For the second time today she was surrounded by piles of toppling boxes. ‘Let me out!’ She got to her knees in the cage as he stopped in front of the lifts and pushed the ‘down’ button.
His shoulders were shaking with laughter as he pulled a key from his pocket for the ‘Supplies Only’ lift and opened the door. ‘What can I say? You bring out the wicked side in me. I couldn’t resist wrecking your neat display.’
He pulled the cage into the lift and sprang the lock free, holding out his hands to steady her step. The lift started with a judder, and as she was in midstep—it sent her straight into his arms. ‘Ow-w!
The lift was small. Even smaller with the large storage cage and two people crammed inside. And as Brad had pressed the ground-floor button as he’d pulled the cage inside, they were now trapped at the back of the lift together.
She was pressed against him. He could feel the ample swell of her breasts against his chest, her soft pink jumper tickling his skin. His hands had fallen naturally to her waist, one finger touching a little bit of soft flesh. Had she noticed?
Her curls were under his nose, but there was no way he was moving his hands to scratch the itch. She lifted her head, capturing him with her big brown eyes again.
This was crazy. This was madness.
This was someone he’d just met today. It didn’t matter that he felt a pull towards her. It didn’t matter that she’d offered to help him. It didn’t matter that for some strange reason he liked to be close to her. It didn’t matter that his eyes were currently fixed on her plump lips. He knew nothing about her.
Her reputation had preceded her. According to her colleagues she was a great nurse and a huge advocate for her patients, but her attention to detail and rulebook for the ward had become notorious.
More importantly, she knew nothing about him. She had no idea about his history, his family, his little girl out there in the world somewhere. She had no idea how the whole thing had come close to breaking him. And for some reason he didn’t want to tell her.
He wanted this to be separate. A flirtation. A distraction. Something playful. With no consequences. Even if it only lasted a few weeks.
At least that would get him past Christmas.
‘You can let me go now.’ Her voice was quiet, her hands resting on his upper arms sending warm waves through his bare skin.
But for a second they just stood there. Unmoving.
The door pinged open and they turned their heads. His hands fell from her waist. She turned and automatically pushed the cage through the lift doors, and he fell into step next to her.
The tone and mood were broken.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind helping me with this? You could always just draw me a map.’
She stuck her elbow in his ribs. ‘Stop trying to get out of buying me dinner. What number did you say the flat was? If I find out I’ve got to carry all these boxes up four flights of stairs I won’t be happy.’
They crossed the car park and reached his car. She blinked. A Mini. For a guy that was over six feet tall.
‘This is your car?’
‘Do you like it?’ He opened the front passenger door, moved the seat forward and started throwing boxes in the back. ‘It’s bigger than you think.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you just leave some stuff in the car?’
Brad shrugged. ‘Luca borrowed my car last night after he helped me move my stuff. I think he had a date.’ And some of his boxes were far too personal to be left unguarded in a car.
Cassidy shook her head and opened the boot, trying to cram as many of the boxes in there as possible. She was left with two of the larger ones still sitting on the ground.
She watched as he put the passenger seat back into place and shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can just put these two on my lap. It’s only a five-minute drive. It’ll be fine.’
Brad pulled a face. ‘You might need to put something else on your lap instead.’
She felt her stomach turn over. What now?
‘Why do I get the distinct impression that nothing is straightforward with you?’
He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the porter’s lodge at the hospital gate, leaving the two boxes next to his unlocked car. ‘Come on.’
‘Where on earth are we going?’
‘I’ve got something else to pick up.’
He pushed open the door to the lodge. Usually used for deliveries and collections, occasionally used by the porters who were trying to duck out of sight for five minutes, it was an old-fashioned solid stone building. The front door squeaked loudly. ‘Frank? Are you there?’
Frank Wallace appeared. All twenty-five stone of him, carrying a pile of white-and-black fur in his hands. ‘There you are, Dr Donovan. He’s been as good as gold. Not a bit of bother. Bring him back any time.’
Frank handed over the bundle of black and white, and it took a few seconds for Cassidy to realise the shaggy bundle was a dog with a bright red collar and lead.
Brad bent down and placed the dog on the floor at their feet. It seemed to spring to life, the head coming up sharply and a little tail wagging furiously. Bright black eyes and a pink panting tongue.
‘Cassidy, meet Bert. This is the reason I lost my tenancy.’
Cassidy watched in amazement. Bert seemed delighted to see him, jumping his paws up onto Brad’s shoulders and licking at his hands furiously. His gruff little barks reverberated around the stone cottage.
He was a scruffy little mutt—with no obvious lineage or pedigree. A mongrel, by the look of him.
‘Why on earth would you have a dog?’ she asked incredulously. ‘You live in Australia. You can’t possibly have brought him with you.’ Dogs she could deal with. It was cats that caused her allergies. She’d often thought about getting a pet for company—a friendly face to come home to. But long shifts weren’t conducive to having a pet. She knelt on the floor next to Brad, holding her hand out cautiously while Bert took a few seconds to sniff her, before licking her with the same enthusiasm he’d shown Brad.
‘I found him. A few weeks ago, in the street outside my flat. He looked emaciated and was crouched in a doorway. There was no way I could leave him alone.’ And to be honest, I needed him as much as he needed me. Brad let the scruffy dog lick his hands. Melody would love this little dog.
‘So what did you do?’
‘I took him to the emergency vet, who checked him over, gave me some instructions, then I took him home.’
‘And this is why you got flung out your flat?’ There was an instant feeling of relief. He hadn’t been thrown out for non-payment of rent, wild parties or dubious women. He’d been thrown out because of a dog. She glanced at his face as he continued to talk to Bert. The mutual admiration was obvious.
The rat. He must have known that a dog would have scored him brownie points. No wonder he’d kept it quiet earlier. She would have taken him for a soft touch.
She started to laugh. ‘Bert? You called your dog Bert?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘What’s wrong with Bert? It’s a perfectly good name.’
‘What’s wrong with Rocky or Buster or Duke?’
He waved his hand at her. ‘Look at him. Does he look like Rocky, Buster or Duke?’
He waited a few seconds, and Bert obligingly tipped his head to one side, as if he enjoyed the admiration.
Brad was decisive. ‘No way. He’s a Bert. No doubt about it.’
Cassidy couldn’t stop the laugh that had built up in her chest. Bert wasn’t a big dog and his white hair with black patches had definitely seen better days. But his soft eyes and panting tongue were cute. And Brad was right. He looked like a Bert—it suited him. She bent down and started rubbing his ears.
‘See—you like him. Everyone should. He’s a good dog. Not been a bit of bother since I found him.’
‘So how come you got flung out the flat? And what about the new one? I take it they’re happy for you to have a dog?’
Brad pulled a face. ‘One of my neighbours reported me for having a dog. And the landlord was swift and ruthless, even though you honestly wouldn’t have known he was there. And it was Frank, the porter, who put me onto the new flat. So I’m sorted. They’re happy for me to have a dog.’
Cassidy held out her arms to pick up the dog. ‘I take it this is what I’m supposed to have on my lap in the car?’
Brad nodded. ‘Thank goodness you like dogs. This could have all turned ugly.’
She shook her head, still rubbing Bert’s ears. ‘I’m sure it will be fine. But let’s go. It’s getting late and I’m starving.’
They headed back to the car and drove down the road past Glasgow University and into the west end of Glasgow. Lots of the younger hospital staff stayed in the flats around here. It wasn’t really designed for kids and families, but for younger folks it was perfect, with the shops, restaurants and nightlife right at their fingertips.
‘So what do you like best about staying around here?’
Cassidy glanced around about her as they drove along Byres Road. She pointed to the top of the road. ‘If you go up there onto Western Road and cross the road, you get to Glasgow’s Botanic Gardens. Peace, perfect peace.’
Brad looked at her in surprise. ‘Really? That’s a bit unusual for someone your age.’
‘Why would you think that? Is it only pensioners and kids that can visit?’ She gestured her thumb over her shoulder. ‘Or if you go back that way, my other favourite is the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum—as long as the school trips aren’t there! There’s even a little secret church just around the corner with an ancient cemetery—perfect for quiet book reading in the summer. Gorgeous at Christmastime.’
Brad stared at her. ‘You’re a dark horse, aren’t you? I never figured you for a museum type.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s the peace and quiet really. The ward can be pretty hectic. Some days when I come out I’m just looking for somewhere to chill. I can be just as happy curled up with a good book or in the dark at the cinema.’
‘You go to the cinema alone?’
She nodded. ‘All the time. I love sci-fi. My friends all love romcoms. So I do some with my friends and some on my own.’ She pointed her arm in front of them. ‘Turn left here, then turn right and slow down.’
The car pulled to a halt at the side of the road next to some bollards. Cassidy looked downwards. Bert had fallen asleep in her lap. ‘Looks like it’s been a big day for the little guy.’
Brad jumped out of and around the car and opened the passenger door. He picked up the sleeping dog. ‘Let’s go up and have a look at the flat before I start to unpack the boxes.’
‘You haven’t seen it yet?’
He shook his head. ‘How could I? I was on call last night and just had to take whatever I could get. I told you I’d no idea where this place was.’
Cassidy smiled. ‘So you did. Silly me. Now, give me the key and we’ll see what you’ve got.’
They climbed up the stairs in the old-style tenement building, onto the first floor, where number five was in front of them. Cassidy looked around. ‘Well, this is better than some flats I’ve seen around here.’ She ran her hand along the wall. ‘The walls have been painted, the floors are clean, and …’ she pointed to the door across the hallway ‘… your neighbour has some plants outside his flat. This place must be okay.’
She turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. Silently praying that she wouldn’t be hit with the smell of cats, mould or dead bodies.
Brad flicked the light switch next to the door and stepped inside. He was trying to stop his gut from twisting. Getting a flat that accepted dogs at short notice—and five minutes away from the hospital—seemed almost too good to be true. There had to be a catch somewhere.
The catch was obvious. Cassidy burst into fits of laughter.
‘No way! It’s like stepping back in time. Have we just transported into the 1960s?’ She turned to face him. ‘That happened once in an old Star Trek episode. I think we’re just reliving it.’
Brad was frozen. The wallpaper could set off a whole array of seizures. He couldn’t even make out the individual colours, the purples and oranges all seemed to merge into one. As for the shag-pile brown carpet …
Cassidy was having the time of her life. She dashed through one of the open doors and let out a shriek. ‘Avacado! It’s avocado. You have an avocado bathroom! Does that colour even exist any more?’ Seconds later he heard the sounds of running water before she appeared again, tears flowing down her cheeks. ‘I love this place. You have to have a 1960s-style party.’

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