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The Greek Children's Doctor
Sarah Morgan
Libby Westerling has put herself up for sale at a charity auction to raise funds for the children's ward she works on. She's not looking for romance–she's asked her brother to buy her!Instead cool, sexy Dr. Andreas Christakos makes the highest bid. Andreas and Libby don't realize they are about to work together–and Libby is not in the market for a man. But this gorgeous Greek doctor is determined to change her mind–and he'll do whatever it takes. . . .



The Greek Children's Doctor
Sarah Morgan



CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE
‘LIBBY, you’re up for auction. Lot number 16.’
Libby snuggled the tiny baby in the crook of her arm and glanced up at the ward sister in horror. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’
‘Deadly serious.’ Beverley squinted down at the baby. ‘How’s she doing?’
‘Better. I’m trying to get her to take more fluids,’ Libby said softly, reaching for the bottle of milk that she’d warmed in readiness. ‘And, Bev, I’m not taking part in the auction—I already told you that.’
‘You have to!’ The older woman sat down in the chair next to her and gave her a pleading look. ‘You’re the best-looking woman in the hospital. We’re bound to get a good price for you.’
Libby pulled a face. ‘That’s so sexist!’
‘But true.’ Bev beamed at her. ‘Come on. Say yes. It’s for a good cause.’
‘It’s utterly degrading and I don’t know what made you come up with the idea. You obviously have a sick mind.’
‘It was your idea,’ Bev reminded her placidly. ‘But that was before you went off men again. Everyone’s really entered into the spirit of things. It’s going to be a great evening and we’re going to raise a fortune for our playroom. This is going to be the best-equipped paediatric ward in the world.’
‘Well, I must have been mad to think of it and I’m certainly not taking part. I’ll give you a donation.’ Libby gently placed the bottle to the baby’s lips. ‘Come on, sweetheart, suck for Libby.’
‘That’s not the same. It’s not just about the money, it’s about team spirit and you have to be there. You’re an important part of the paediatric team. My star performer, in fact.’
‘In that case I’ll come and watch.’ Libby smiled with satisfaction as the baby clamped her mouth round the teat. ‘There’s a good girl.’
‘We need you on that stage,’ Bev said firmly, ‘and just think of the opportunity to meet a new man! There’ll be all sorts there. Short ones, tall ones, thin ones, fat ones…’
A new man?
Libby shuddered. ‘It doesn’t matter what they look like on the outside. They’re all the same on the inside and I’m not interested.’
She’d given up on men totally. There was only so much hurt and disillusionment that a girl could stand.
Bev shifted uncomfortably. ‘You have to. It’s tomorrow night! They’ve printed the programmes and you’re in it.’
‘Oh, for crying out loud!’ Libby glared at her colleague, who looked sheepish.
‘It’ll be fun,’ she said lamely. ‘A tall, handsome stranger will pay money for you. It’s just a blind date really.’
‘I don’t do dates,’ Libby said flatly, ‘blind or otherwise.’
The way she felt at the moment, she had no intention of ever dating a man again.
‘Well, you could do the choosing,’ Bev suggested helpfully. ‘It’s not as if you’re short of money. You could use some of that enormous trust fund that Daddy set up for you to purchase a really hot date.’
Libby shot her a look that spoke volumes. ‘Do I look stupid?’
‘Libby.’ Bev spoke with exaggerated patience. ‘You’re twenty-nine years old and you’re loaded. You shouldn’t be single. At the very least, some man should be trying to marry you for your money.’
‘Great. So now I’m up for sale to the highest bidder.’ Libby looked at her friend in exasperation. ‘What’s wrong with being single? Women are allowed to be on their own these days. Being single is perfectly acceptable.’
‘For some people, maybe,’ Bev conceded, ‘but not you. You adore children. Children adore you. You’re cuddly and loving and fun. You were designed to be married and a mother.’
‘The good thing about being a paediatric nurse,’ Libby observed, ‘is that you can enjoy the benefits of children without the drawbacks of a man.’
Bev sighed. ‘Look, I know you haven’t exactly had good experiences with men, but—’
‘Good experiences?’ Libby gave a laugh that was totally lacking in humour and then lowered her voice as the baby shifted restlessly in her arms. ‘Bev, do I need to spell out just how utterly ridiculous I feel after what happened with Philip?’
Bev bit her lip. ‘No. But you shouldn’t feel ridiculous. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘I dated a married man,’ Libby said shortly, and Bev frowned.
‘But you didn’t know he was married.’
‘Not until I found him in bed with his wife,’ Libby agreed. ‘That sort of gave the game away really.’
Bev closed her eyes. ‘I know you’re hurt, but it wasn’t your fault—’
‘Of course it was. I was too trusting. He didn’t mention a wife so I assumed he didn’t have one. Silly me.’ Libby struggled with a lump in her throat, cross with herself for becoming upset again. She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to waste another tear on Philip and here she was with a wobbly lip again. Pathetic! ‘I am obviously totally incapable of spotting a rat so it’s safer if I just stay single. So you can forget your auction. There’s no way I’m ever voluntarily going on a date again.’
Bev cleared her throat delicately. ‘You’ve got to have a social life, Libby. What about the summer ball next month? You need a partner.’
‘I’m not going to the summer ball.’ Libby concentrated on the baby. ‘I’ve decided to dedicate my life to work and forget about romance.’
Bev’s eyes widened. ‘You’re not going to the ball? It’s the event of the hospital calendar. If you don’t go, Philip will assume that you’re pining.’
‘And if I do go, and he’s there, then there’ll be bloodshed,’ Libby predicted darkly, adjusting the angle of the bottle slightly. ‘He’s a total rat. I’ve discovered that the better-looking the man, the higher the rat factor.’
Bev blinked. ‘Rat factor?’
‘Yes. It’s my official measurement of male behaviour.’
Bev giggled. ‘We shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of the baby,’ she murmured. ‘She’s only four months old. We’ll shock her.’
‘It’s never too soon to learn about the rat factor,’ Libby murmured. ‘She’ll have a head start on me. I was grown up before I discovered the truth.’
Actually, that wasn’t strictly true, she reflected, watching as the baby guzzled the rest of the bottle. She’d had endless clues during her childhood.
‘Men should come with a government health warning.’
‘Not all men,’ Bev said quietly, looking across the darkened ward at one of the fathers who sat slumped in a chair by a sleeping child. ‘He’s going to be with her for the rest of the night and he’s going to have to do a full day’s work tomorrow.’
‘Yeah…’ Libby followed her gaze. ‘Dave is a saint. And Poppy is lucky to have such a devoted dad. But he’s the exception. The rest of them are creeps.’
Poppy had cystic fibrosis and she’d developed yet another lung infection that required her to be back in hospital for treatment. She was well known on the ward and so was her father who never left her side.
Bev wasn’t listening. ‘If you wore something short and left your hair loose, you’d make us a fortune. If we hit our target it’s going to mean a fantastic playroom for our children. Toys, desks, books by the million, a whiteboard for the teacher. It’s just a bit of fun. Please, Libby…’
Libby opened her mouth to refuse again and then closed it with a resigned sigh.
It had been her idea so people would expect her to be there. But if she attended then she’d have to take part and she really, really didn’t want to expose herself to an evening with a man.
Or give philandering Philip the opportunity to buy her and force the conversation she’d been avoiding.
Perhaps she could put such a high price on herself that no one would be able to afford her, she mused.
She continued to search for solutions as she eased the teat out of the baby’s mouth and lifted her against her shoulder. The baby snuffled contentedly and Libby smiled, breathing in her warm baby smell and cuddling her closer. And suddenly the answer came to her. Her brother could buy her. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?
‘All right, I’ll do it.’ Libby smiled, pleased with her idea. ‘Alex can buy me. At least that should ensure that no one else does.’
Especially Philip.
Ever since she’d arrived at Philip’s flat unannounced and surprised him in a very compromising position with a stunning blonde who had turned out to be his wife—a wife he’d never thought to mention—Philip had been desperately trying to get to see her. He’d called her mobile so often that she’d finally switched it off and told her friends to call her on the ward. At least Bella, the receptionist, could field her calls.
She absolutely did not want a conversation with him about what had happened.
As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to talk about.
The man was married. And he’d lied to her.
‘Did you manage to get any extra help for tomorrow?’ She knew that the staffing situation was dire.
Bev shook her head gloomily. ‘The nursing situation is bad, but fortunately the new consultant starts on Monday so at least we should finally have some more medical support.’
Libby nodded. They’d been a consultant short and that had put tremendous pressure on everyone.
‘I’ll come in early tomorrow,’ she offered, and Bev bit her lip.
‘I can’t ask you to do that, you’ve worked a double shift today…’
‘You didn’t ask. I volunteered.’
Bev leaned forward and gave her a hug. ‘You’re brilliant, and if I were a man I’d definitely buy you.’
‘And then you’d go home and sleep with a woman who turns out to be a wife that you conveniently forgot to mention,’ Libby said dryly. ‘So tell me—is the new consultant a woman or a rat?’
Bev laughed. ‘He’s a man, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Oh well, you can’t have everything.’
With a wistful smile Libby stroked the baby’s smooth cheek and then laid her carefully back in her cot, tucking the sheet around her.
The baby was so beautiful. It made her terribly broody, caring for her, and she would have loved one of her own.
It was just a shame that having a baby required contact with a man.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Andreas Christakos strolled onto the ward, six feet three of broad-shouldered, drop-dead-handsome Greek male.
The night sister, confronted by this unexpected vision of raw, masculine virility, dropped the pile of sheets she was carrying and lost her powers of speech.
Acknowledging that it probably hadn’t been quite fair of him to arrive unannounced, Andreas extended a lean, bronzed hand and introduced himself.
The night sister paled slightly. ‘You’re the new consultant? We weren’t exactly expecting you…’ She stooped to pick up the sheets, visibly flustered by his unscheduled appearance. ‘Did you want to see—? I mean, it seems a little late—’
‘I merely came to familiarise myself with the whereabouts of the ward,’ he assured her smoothly, his eyes flickering over the walls which were covered in brightly coloured children’s paintings. ‘I don’t officially start until Monday.’
She clutched the sheets to her chest and looked relieved. ‘That’s what I thought. Good. Well, please, help yourself to the notes trolley—they’re all there and any X-rays are underneath. We’re pretty quiet for once, so everyone’s slipped off to the auction,’ the night sister told him. ‘They’ll be back when it finishes—or sooner if I call them.’
’Auction?’ Andreas frowned as he repeated the word. He’d always thought his English was fluent but he found himself very unsure about what she was describing. Surely an auction involved paintings or other valuable artefacts?
‘We’re selling a date with each member of staff to raise money to buy equipment for our new playroom.’
Andreas, traditional and Greek to the very backbone, struggled with this concept. They were selling dates?
Aware that she was waiting for some sort of response, he dealt her a sizzling smile. ‘It sounds like a novel way to raise money.’
‘It is.’ She looked at him for a moment and then smiled cheekily, her nervousness vanishing. ‘You’re very good-looking. Perhaps you should consider auctioning yourself.’
The smile froze on his face. ‘I don’t think so.’
He had enough trouble keeping women at a distance as it was, and the one thing he absolutely didn’t need was to offer himself to the highest bidder. The thought made him shudder. What sort of woman would that attract? Not the one he was searching for, that was for sure. Recent events had confirmed his growing suspicion that the woman he wanted didn’t exist in real life.
‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you?’ The night sister giggled. ‘You’d make us a fortune! Well, just in case you change your mind, it’s all happening in the doctors’ bar in the basement. You could go and meet everyone. Half the hospital will be there. Introduce yourself. Buy yourself a date for the evening!’
Knowing that he had no intention of doing anything of the sort, Andreas merely smiled politely and reached for the first set of notes.
As he flicked to the first page, he reflected on the strange ways of the English. Like most of his countrymen, he was aware of the outlandish behaviour shown by some of the English girls who holidayed in Greece, but in all his time in various English hospitals he’d never come across a scenario where staff sold themselves to raise money.
Was the NHS really in that much trouble?
With a slight lift of his wide shoulders he dismissed the thought and proceeded to read the notes on each child, his sharp brain absorbing the information and filing it away for later.
An hour later he was thoroughly briefed on all the current admissions and he left the ward quietly, walking along the corridors that led to the main entrance, hesitating briefly as he reached the stairs that led down to the doctors’ bar in the basement. Loud music drifted up the stairs, along with catcalls and much whooping and laughter.
Intrigued by the concept of anything so alien as an auction involving people, Andreas took the stairs and pushed open the door of the bar just as a leggy blonde sashayed down the improvised catwalk.
He stopped dead, his attention caught.
She was stunning.
Andreas sucked in a breath, his eyes raking over every inch of her slender, perfectly formed body. As he watched, she tossed her long, wavy blonde hair over her slim shoulders, her slanting blue eyes glinting as if she was daring someone to buy her.
She was wearing an almost indecently short pink dress and heels that were so high he feared for her safety, but she walked with a grace and elegance that was achingly feminine.
‘Lot number 16.’ The auctioneer laughed, raising his voice over the howls and wolf whistles. ‘What am I bid for our Libby?’
There was a chorus of enthusiastic yells and the blonde rolled her eyes and grinned, striking an exaggerated pose that took his breath away.
Andreas surveyed her with unashamed lust, oblivious to the admiring glances he himself was drawing from the other females in the room.
Temporarily forgetting how jaded he was with women, he studied her closely and came to the conclusion that she was gorgeous. Physically. He didn’t fool himself that her beauty went any deeper than that, but for a short-term relationship did that really matter? He wasn’t inviting her to be the mother of his children so the intricacies of her personality were irrelevant.
‘Ten pounds,’ the auctioneer said. ‘Let’s start the bidding at £10.’
Andreas glanced at the auctioneer incredulously. Did the man have no idea of value?
‘Yes.’ A lanky blond man raised an arm and Andreas watched with interest as the girl’s expression froze. All the warmth and humour drained out of her pretty face and she stared ahead stonily. It was clear to everyone watching that she didn’t want to be purchased by the blond man.
She started moving again, and it was obvious from the way that her eyes slid frantically around the room that she was searching for someone. She seemed tense, almost desperate, and then her gaze rested on Andreas.
Startled eyes, as blue as the Aegean sea, widened and stared into his. Instead of continuing her rhythmic sway down the stage, she stopped dead, her whole body still, frozen by the connection that sizzled between them.
Taken aback by the strength of the attraction, Andreas felt his body tighten in that most primitive of male responses. His arrogant dark head angled back, he held her gaze, forgetting the recent change to his life that had fired his resolution to avoid women.
Suddenly all he wanted was her.
Naked. In his bed.
No self-respecting Greek male would allow a woman like her to pass by unscathed.
It would be a criminal waste.
Totally sure of himself, he strolled forward, indifferent to the lustful female stares he was attracting from all quarters. He was only interested in one woman and the confidence of his stride made the crowd part to let him through.
‘One thousand pounds.’ He delivered his bid coolly, his eyes still holding hers as he dropped the words into the expectant hush. He’d never paid for a woman in his life before, but there was no way he was letting the blond man buy her. Or any other man.
He wanted her for himself.
And Andreas Christakos was used to getting exactly what he wanted.
‘One thousand pounds!’ The auctioneer was almost incoherent with delight. ‘Well, none of you tight individuals are going to top that so I’d say Libby’s going, going, gone to the tall, dark stranger with the fat wallet!’
Ignoring the laughter, Andreas stretched out a lean, strong hand to Libby, his eyes still holding hers.
Looking slightly stunned, she stepped forward, descended the stage with care and took his hand, chin held high.
It was only when he caught her from falling at the bottom of the steps that he realised that she’d had too much to drink.
The blond man who’d bid £10 stepped forward, clearly desperate to speak to her, but she silenced him with an icy glare and Andreas felt her small hand tremble in his.
He frowned slightly. Why was she shaking?
In an instinctive male reaction, his hand tightened on hers possessively.
‘No amount of money would induce me to have a conversation with you, Philip, let alone a date,’ she said with exaggerated dignity. Having clarified the situation to her satisfaction, she turned to Andreas with a smile that would have illuminated Athens on a dark night. ‘Shall we go?’
Andreas wondered what could have upset her so much that she’d be willing to leave the bar with a total stranger. She hadn’t even asked his name and she was clinging to his hand as if it were a lifeline.
A totally inexplicable need to protect her slammed through him and he tightened his grip. ‘Yes, let’s go.’
He held the door open for her and she walked past him, long-legged and graceful, managing remarkably well on those high heels considering the volume of alcohol she appeared to have consumed. Up close she seemed more fragile than she had on the stage and he was suddenly aware of just how delicate she was compared to him. Her arms and wrists were slender, her waist was impossibly tiny and her long, slim legs seemed to go on for ever.
She climbed the stairs carefully, cheerfully greeting various members of the medical staff who passed. But he sensed that the cheerfulness was for everyone else’s benefit and his firm mouth tightened as he contemplated the possible reasons for her distress. Obviously it had something to do with the blond man who thought she was only worth £10.
They reached the top of the stairs and he took her arm as they walked towards the car park.
‘Exactly how much alcohol have you consumed?’
‘None. I don’t drink. Although perhaps I should have done tonight. At least alcohol might have numbed the utter humiliation of being on that stage. I can’t believe I ever thought it would be a good idea. Thank goodness you came when you did. That creep almost bought me,’ she slurred, bending down to remove her shoes. ‘Ouch. Sorry. They’re really uncomfortable.’
Did she think he was a fool?
It was perfectly obvious that she’d been drinking.
Andreas frowned. ‘If you found it humiliating, why did you agree to do it?’ he asked, noticing that without her shoes she had to tilt her head to look at him.
Her shoes dangled from her fingers. ‘I did it because I promised that I would and I never break promises.’
‘You didn’t want to do it?’
‘I would rather have dug a hole and buried myself,’ she said frankly. ‘Standing on that stage and trying to look cheerful was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I almost died with relief when you rescued me. For a horrible moment I thought that my rotten brother had abandoned me to my fate. Which reminds me, I need to write you a cheque.’
He looked at her blankly as she rummaged in her bag and produced a cheque book.
‘A thousand pounds, wasn’t it?’ She scribbled on the cheque, tore it out and handed it to him. ‘A bit steep, but never mind. It was very decent of you to turn up and buy me.’
She staggered slightly and Andreas closed both hands over her arms to steady her.
‘Why are you giving me a cheque?’
She stared up at him vacantly and he found himself noticing the perfect shape of her mouth.
‘Because that was the agreement.’
Still studying her mouth, Andreas struggled to concentrate. ‘What agreement?’
She hesitated, obviously trying to retrieve something from her memory that the alcohol had wiped out. ‘The agreement I made with my brother,’ she said finally, a smile of triumph on her face as she remembered. ‘He promised that if he couldn’t make it he’d send someone else to save me from Philip, and…’ she smiled at him dizzily ‘…he obviously sent you.’
Andreas dragged his eyes away from her mouth. ‘I don’t know your brother.’
She tilted her head and focused on him. ‘You don’t?’ She bit her soft lip, confusion evident in her beautiful eyes. ‘Alex promised me that if he was too busy to come he’d send someone to put in an outrageous bid for me so that no one else could buy me. I assumed it was you…’
He shook his head, totally intrigued. Her brother had promised to buy her? ‘Not me.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Well, if you didn’t buy me for my brother then why did you—?’ She broke off and backed away from him, her eyes suddenly wary. ‘Who the hell are you? And why would you pay that much money for a stranger?’
‘I thought that was the idea,’ Andreas said mildly. Clearly she was questioning his motives and he could hardly blame her for that. ‘Surely you wanted to persuade the audience to part with their money?’
‘Well, yes, but not a thousand pounds.’ She was still staring at him as if she expected him to attack her at any moment. ‘If you think that paying all that money guarantees you—I mean, if you think that I’ll…’ She stumbled over the words, clearly embarrassed, and then gave up and gave him a threatening look. ‘What I mean is, you’re in for a serious disappointment because I don’t do that!’
He hid his amusement. ‘They were auctioning a date, Libby,’ he reminded her calmly, and she glared at him.
‘And doubtless you took that to mean sex because that’s what all men expect, and then afterwards I discover the wife and the child.’
Andreas blinked, trying to keep up with her thought processes. ‘I don’t generally find I have to pay for sex,’ he drawled, and she tipped her head on one side and studied him closely, her small pink tongue snaking out and moistening her lips.
‘No, I’m sure you don’t. But, then, I bet you don’t usually have to pay for dates either.’
Andreas inclined his head. ‘True.’
Normally he had to play all sorts of games to keep women at a distance.
Which made his current behaviour all the more unbelievable.
She obviously agreed with him if the expression on her face was anything to go by. ‘So why did you pay such an outrageous amount of money for a date with me?’
He was asking himself the same question.
‘Because I can afford it and because you’re very beautiful,’ he replied.
She took a few more steps backwards, clutching her shoes tightly. ‘Well, I suggest you take the cheque I’m offering you,’ she said coldly. ‘I only agreed to do the auction because Alex promised he would buy me. I never, ever would have done it if I’d thought I’d actually have to go on a date. I don’t date men. Men are rats and creeps.’
Andreas ran an experienced eye down a length of perfect thigh. A less likely candidate for celibacy he had yet to see. But there was no missing the utter misery in her blue eyes.
It didn’t take a genius to work out that someone had obviously hurt her badly.
‘You’ve obviously been mixing with the wrong men,’ he said softly, and she gave a humourless laugh.
‘Funnily enough, I’ve worked that out for myself. From now on, no more relationships.’
Unable to resist teasing her, Andreas smiled. ‘What about sex?’
He watched with fascination as colour bloomed in her cheeks.
‘I’m old-fashioned,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t have sex without a relationship and seeing that men are hopeless at relationships, I’ve given up.’
‘So tell me.’ He stepped closer to her, his attention caught by the fullness of her lower lip. ‘Who was responsible for putting you off relationships?’
‘You want the short version or the long version?’ She shrugged carelessly but he guessed that she was battling with tears and he frowned, wondering what it was about her that made him feel so protective. Not that she would have thanked him for those feelings, he reflected wryly. These days women wanted to hunt their own dragons and kill them.
‘Whichever you want to tell me.’
‘Well, I suppose I’d have to start with my parents, who were definitely not a shining example of marital harmony. They never touched.’ She flashed him a suggestive smile. ‘Well, of course, they must have touched once, or they wouldn’t have had me, but fortunately for them they had triplets so they managed to get all the physical contact out of the way in one go.’
Andreas thought of his own childhood and the love and emotional support he’d been given. It had been something that he’d taken for granted at the time, but his work as a paediatrician had brought him into contact with enough children from less privileged backgrounds than his for him to have been able to appreciate the impact that parental dis-harmony could have on a child’s view of life.
‘Their relationship put you off men?’
‘That and personal experience in the field,’ she said gloomily. ‘My most recent disaster turned out to be married.’
Andreas frowned. ‘That’s what you meant by your comment about discovering the wife and child? You’ve definitely been dating the wrong men.’
‘Don’t use that smooth, seductive tone on me,’ she advised, swaying slightly as she looked at him. ‘It is totally wasted. I don’t trust anyone. From now on I’m cynical and suspicious. And the more attractive the man, the higher my index of suspicion. I ought to warn you that with you it’s soaring through the roof.’
Before he could reply he saw her glance over his shoulder and her whole body tensed.
Wondering what had caused her reaction, he turned his head briefly and saw the blond man hurrying towards them, looking agitated.
‘Oh, help—here he comes again. What does it take to get him to leave me alone?’ She lifted her chin bravely but he saw the anguish in her blue eyes.
Andreas knew exactly how to persuade the man to leave her alone.
Telling himself that he was merely helping a damsel in distress, he pulled her firmly against him and lowered his mouth to hers.
He felt her stiffen in surprise and then melt against him, her mouth opening under the subtle pressure of his. She was all feminine temptation, her floral scent wrapping itself around him and drawing him in, her lips all sweetness and seduction as she kissed him back.
Andreas was taken aback by the strength of his reaction to that kiss. His body throbbed with instant arousal and he cupped her face with confident hands, feeling her quiver of surprise as he deepened the kiss. She dropped the shoes she was holding and clutched at his shirt, whimpering slightly under the skilled assault of his mouth.
Stunned by her uninhibited response and his own powerful reaction, he hauled her closer still and stroked a leisurely hand up her thigh, the warmth of her smooth skin intensifying the throbbing, pulsing ache of his erection.
Feeling fireworks explode in his head, Andreas continued to explore her mouth, building the excitement to such dangerous levels that it threatened to engulf them both.
It was the hottest, most erotic kiss he’d ever experienced and it wouldn’t have ended there if it hadn’t been for the loud slam of a car door that jerked them both back to the reality of their surroundings.
Andreas lifted his head, considerably shaken by his definitely uncharacteristic response to the woman who now stood quivering in his arms.
He glanced around him in utter disbelief, taking in the ordered rows of cars interspersed by the odd streetlamp. He’d always prided himself in his self-control and yet here he was ready to slam this woman against the nearest convenient surface and make love to her hard and fast until she begged for mercy.
What the hell had happened to him?
Not only were they in a public place but he was also aware that, whatever she said to the contrary, she’d had too much to drink and was obviously on the rebound.
Neither factors provided a good basis for any sort of relationship.
Cursing softly in Greek, he released her and then caught her again as she stumbled.
She looked at him, bemused. ‘Feel dizzy,’ she muttered, her expression dazed and disconnected, her blue eyes cloudy as she lifted a finger to her lips.
He felt pretty dizzy himself.
Remembering just how good it had felt, Andreas fought the temptation to kiss her again. There would be other occasions, he reminded himself, and next time he was going to select the venue more carefully and ban alcohol. She looked as though she was about to collapse in a heap.
‘I’d better take you home.’
Before he committed an indecent act in a public place.
And when she was sober he’d arrange a proper date in a place where there’d be absolutely no chance of interruptions.
He stooped to pick up the shoes she’d dropped and then pointed his key towards his car and unlocked it. Suddenly aware that she was swaying again, he swept her off her feet and carried her to his car, trying to ignore her feminine scent and the way her soft hair tickled his cheek.
‘Put me down.’ Her words were slightly slurred and she wriggled in his arms. ‘I hate men. I don’t want to go on a date. And I don’t want another kiss. It made me feel strange.’
Her head flopped back and he deposited her in the passenger seat, trying valiantly to ignore the fact that her dress had ridden up and was now revealing every perfect inch of her long legs. Her eyes closed and Andreas stared at her in exasperation.
‘What exactly did you drink tonight?’
‘One glass of really, really delicious orange juice,’ she murmured sleepily, and he rolled his eyes.
Did she really expect him to believe that?
She was barely coherent!
‘I need to take you home,’ he drawled, wondering if she knew just how big a risk she was taking by getting so drunk that she didn’t know who she was with. She hadn’t even asked his name.
‘Give me your address.’ He slammed the driver’s door shut and turned to look at her, groaning with frustration as he saw her curled up in his passenger seat as snug and comfortable as a tiny kitten. She was fast asleep.
His patience severely tested, Andreas sat back in his seat and counted to ten while he contemplated the problem.
So much for taking her home.
He had absolutely no intention of going back to the bar to discover her address, so he really had no option other than to take her back to his house. Which made life extremely complicated because Adrienne was there.
He closed his eyes briefly and swore under his breath.
The evening was definitely not ending the way he’d intended.

CHAPTER TWO
LIBBY awoke with a crushing headache.
With a whimper of self-pity she sat up and found herself looking into a pair of curious brown eyes. A girl sat on the end of her bed. Underneath the unruly brown hair and layers of make-up, Libby guessed her to be about twelve.
‘Wow.’ The girl studied her closely. ‘You look really ill.’
Libby bit back a groan and closed her eyes. She had absolutely no idea where she was but she knew she had an almighty hangover.
Which didn’t really make sense because she hadn’t touched alcohol.
Or, at least, not intentionally.
Suspicion entering her mind she lifted a hand to her aching skull and sat up slowly, wincing slightly as a shaft of sunlight probed through the curtain and stabbed her between the eyes.
Realising that she was lying in an enormous, elegant bedroom, panic swamped her.
Whose bedroom?
Just what had happened last night?
The girl was still studying her closely, as if she couldn’t understand how anyone could look so awful and still be alive. ‘Yiayia made Andreas promise that he’d never bring a woman home while I was in the house, so I suppose that means he’s in love with you.’
What?
Who was the girl sitting on the bed?
And who the hell was Andreas?
Searching her aching brain for some recollection of what had happened the night before, Libby had a sudden memory of broad, muscular shoulders, a firm mouth and lots and lots of fireworks.
Yes, there’d definitely been fireworks.
‘I…er…who exactly is Yiayia?’
‘Yiayia is Greek for Grandma, and you’ve said enough, Adrienne.’ Cool male tones came from the doorway and the girl scrambled off the bed, suddenly wary.
‘There’s no need to use that scary tone. I’m old enough to know the facts of life and I know all about sex.’ She looked at Libby curiously. ‘Did you have sex? Yiayia says that loads of women want to go to bed with Andreas because he’s seriously rich and very good-looking. Women go mad about him.’
Deprived of her powers of speech, Libby glanced helplessly at the man in the doorway and clashed with the darkest, sexiest eyes she’d ever seen. Despite her somewhat pathetic state, her mouth fell open and she did something she never did when she met a man.
She stared.
He was well over six feet, powerfully built, with jet black hair smoothed back from his forehead and bronzed skin that suggested a Mediterranean heritage. He possessed all the arrogant self-assurance of a man who’d been chased by women from the cradle.
She felt herself colour under his sharp gaze. It was evident from the hint of mockery in his dark eyes that he realised that she had an extremely hazy recollection of the events of the night before.
‘You talk too much, Adrienne.’ Without shifting his gaze from Libby’s pale face, he strolled into the bedroom and she noticed for the first time that he was carrying a mug. ‘Drink that.’ He placed a mug of black coffee on the bedside table. ‘It will help.’
Confronted by this final confirmation that he was well aware of her delicate condition, Libby shrank back against the pillow, stricken with guilt at her own behaviour.
She’d obviously been horribly drunk the night before.
What she didn’t understand was how.
Unlike her, he was fully dressed and she was uncomfortably aware of his wide shoulders and sleek, dark good looks next to her near nakedness. Deciding that so much masculine virility was too much for a woman with a headache, Libby reached for the coffee.
Grandma had a point, she thought weakly. She didn’t know about the rich bit, but he was incredibly good-looking. Almost enough to make a woman forget that all men were rats.
Which was evidently what she must have done when she’d agreed to go back to his flat with him.
How could she have done such a thing?
She never took risks like that!
She was obviously seriously on the rebound.
Catching sight of her pink dress draped carelessly over the back of a chair, she gave a whimper of mortification.
How had it got there? She had absolutely no recollection of getting undressed. Realising that she was wearing a white silk shirt that she’d never seen before in her life, her stomach flipped.
What exactly had happened the night before?
She remembered arriving at the auction and being given a drink of orange juice by Bev.
And she definitely remembered fireworks.
‘Yiayia says that if a man and a woman spend a night together they have to get married,’ the girl said firmly, and the man said something sharp in a language that Libby assumed was Greek before switching to English.
‘Go and get ready for school,’ he ordered, ‘and wash that muck off your face. They’ll refuse to have you back if you look like that.’
‘That’s why I did it,’ the girl said moodily, and he sighed, the long-suffering sigh of a man stretched to the limits of his patience.
‘You know you have to go back.’ His voice was firm but held a note of sympathy. ‘Just until we sort this out. I’m interviewing housekeepers next week.’
Adrienne looked at him. ‘If you got married you wouldn’t need to employ a housekeeper. It’s time you settled down with a decent woman, not someone like—’
‘Adrienne!’ This time the man’s voice was icy cold. ‘That’s enough. Go and wash your face.’
The girl’s slim shoulders sagged. ‘But—’
‘Now!’
The commanding tone evidently worked because Adrienne subsided and left the room with a last curious look at Libby.
There was a long silence and Libby felt her colour rise.
Feeling that someone ought to say something, she put her coffee down and pushed her tangled blonde curls out of her eyes. ‘Er…about last night…’
Not having a clue what had actually taken place the previous night, she left the statement hanging, hoping that he’d be enough of a gentleman to say something reassuring, but he merely looked at her quizzically and waited for her to finish.
Libby sighed. He was obviously one of those enviable people who used silence as a weapon, whereas she, unfortunately, had never mastered the art.
‘Look.’ Deciding that directness was the best approach, she took a deep breath. ‘Did you spike my drink last night?’
He lifted a dark eyebrow. ‘You think I need to render a woman senseless in order to persuade her to come home with me?’
No, she didn’t think that.
He was the embodiment of most women’s fantasies.
She flushed and concluded from his amused expression that he obviously wasn’t the one responsible for her pounding headache.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just that someone must have but I really don’t remember that much—except the fireworks. They were great. What did—?’ She broke off and cleared her throat nervously. ‘Well, obviously you brought me back here, which was very kind of you, but did we—? I mean, I don’t remember if we actually—You see, I don’t do that sort of thing usually, but I suppose I must have been a bit upset last night and…’
Totally disconcerted by his continued silence, she gave a groan and hid her head under the covers.
Why didn’t he say something?
And what exactly had they done?
She was never, ever going out again.
It was just too embarrassing.
Finally she felt the bed shift under his weight and the covers were firmly pulled away from her.
‘Two things,’ he said softly, and she decided that although he didn’t say much, it was definitely worth the wait when he did. He spoke with a slight accent, his deep voice caressing her nerve endings and soothing her aching head. The tension oozed out of her and she felt herself relax. His voice was amazing. ‘Firstly, you should know that when I make love to a woman, Libby, she always remembers it.’
The tension was back with a vengeance. Her breath trapped in her lungs, heart thudding against her rib cage, Libby swallowed hard and stared into his very amused eyes.
He exuded a raw, animal sex appeal that took her breath away and she felt a powerful urge to slide her arms round his strong neck and kiss him.
She could well imagine that a night with him would be an unforgettable experience.
Appalled by the uncharacteristically explicit nature of her own thoughts, she pulled her mind back to the present and tightened her grip on the covers as if they could afford her some protection.
‘Right.’ Her voice was little more than a squeak. ‘And what was the second thing?’
‘The second thing is that there were no fireworks…’ he dealt her a sizzling smile that sent an electric current through her trembling body ‘…until I kissed you.’
And with that he stood up and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Having dropped Adrienne at her boarding school, Andreas strolled onto the ward an hour later, immediately aware of the consternation his appearance created.
Having recognised him from the night before, the staff were all evidently wondering what had happened to Libby.
‘You’re the new consultant?’ The ward sister stared at him and then gave him a weak smile. ‘Er, I’m Bev—and you’re a day early.’
Andreas lifted a broad shoulder. ‘I like to be on top of things.’
Bev bit her lip. ‘We noticed you last night. But we didn’t know—I mean, we didn’t recognise you.’
‘Of course you didn’t.’ He’d been careful not to introduce himself to anyone.
Bev took a deep breath and asked the question that she was obviously dying to ask. ‘What did you do with Libby?’
Not what he’d wanted to do.
‘I left her to sleep it off,’ he drawled, moving to the notes trolley. ‘Do the nurses on this ward always party that hard?’
Bev’s shoulders stiffened defensively. ‘For your information, we’re desperately short-staffed and Libby worked sixteen hours on the trot yesterday and the same the day before. She had no breaks and nothing to eat all day. It’s not surprising she was tipsy.’
Andreas refrained from pointing out that she’d been more than tipsy. By the time he’d laid her on the bed and undressed her, she’d been unconscious.
But she seemed to be under the impression that she hadn’t drunk anything.
‘Well, I have to warn you not to expect her in today,’ he said smoothly. He remembered how pale and exhausted she’d looked when he’d left her, her amazing blonde hair spread over the pillow in his spare bedroom.
Mindful of Adrienne’s presence, he’d resisted the temptation to join her on the bed and apply his considerable skills to bringing some colour to her cheeks.
‘She’s not due in until later anyway, and Libby’s got the stamina of an ox. She’ll be here.’ Bev grabbed a set of notes and smiled at him hopefully. ‘As you’re early, I don’t suppose you’d see a child for me, would you? The rest of your team all seem to be tied up elsewhere and I think her drain could probably come out.’
Andreas held out his hand for the notes. ‘Let’s go.’

Libby arrived on the ward later that morning, changed into the bright blue tracksuit bottoms and red T-shirt that all the nurses wore when they were on duty and tied her hair back with a matching ribbon.
The black coffee had helped enormously. Her head was still pounding but it was as much from tiredness as anything else. She’d worked so many double shifts in the last month that she’d forgotten what the inside of her own flat looked like.
And after last night…
She groaned at the memory, stuffed the white shirt and the pink dress into her locker and went in search of Bev.
She found her by the drugs trolley.
‘What did you put in that orange juice?’ Libby glanced over her shoulder to check that no one was listening. ‘Someone spiked my drink and I’ve just worked out that it had to have been you.’
‘Vodka,’ Bev muttered, not quite meeting her eyes.
Libby stared at her, appalled. ‘Vodka? For crying out loud, Bev! I hadn’t had a single thing to eat all day. What were you doing?’
‘Giving you courage,’ Bev said calmly, her eyes still on the drugs trolley. ‘You were nervous.’
‘Nervous? Thanks to you, I could hardly walk!’
‘You looked fine. Better than fine. Really relaxed and sexy. We got £1000 for you. That cheque boosted our funds no end. Do you know how much we made?’
‘I don’t care how much we made.’ Libby groaned and covered her face with her hands. ‘Do you realise that I woke up in a strange bed this morning, in the house of a strange man who I don’t even remember?’ Her hands dropped to her sides and she frowned at Bev. ‘What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you looking at me?’
Bev looked hideously uncomfortable and Libby felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘There’s more, isn’t there?’
The ward sister tensed awkwardly. ‘Well, there is something I probably ought to tell you—and you’re not going to be pleased. It’s about the man who bought you last night. Actually, he’s—’
Loud screams interrupted her and Libby winced and glanced towards the ward. ‘Who is that?’
‘Little Marcus Green.’ Bev pulled a face. ‘He had his hernia repair and his mother’s had to leave him to sort out a crisis at home. Not a happy child.’
The screaming intensified and Libby rubbed her aching head. ‘Poor little mite. I’ll go and see to him,’ she muttered. ‘We’ll finish this conversation later.’
‘No!’ Bev grabbed her arm. ‘Libby, wait, I really need to tell you about the man who bought you. He’s—’
‘Later.’ Libby shrugged her off and walked off down the ward, ponytail swinging as she hurried towards the sound.
One of the staff nurses was trying to distract him and she gave a sigh of relief when she saw Libby. ‘I’m glad to see you. He’s been like this for hours. His mum had to go and see to the older one at home and he’s been hysterical ever since.’
Libby scooped the screaming toddler into her arms, careful not to damage the wound, and carried him over to the pile of colourful cushions that were piled in the corner of the ward.
‘There, sweetheart. You’ll soon feel better.’ She dropped a kiss on top of his head. ‘Shall we have a story while we wait for Mummy? I know you love stories.’
Marcus continued to sob and hiccough and Libby cuddled him close as she selected a book and settled down on the cushions with the little boy on her lap. ‘You can choose. ‘‘Three Little Pigs’’ or ‘‘Little Red Riding Hood’’?’
The toddler’s sobs lessened. ‘Pigs.’
‘Three Little Pigs it is, then,’ Libby said, reaching for the book and giving a gasp. ‘Oh, my goodness, have you seen this?’
At her excited tone the toddler stopped sobbing and stared.
‘What a cute piggy,’ Libby said happily, and Marcus sneaked his thumb into his mouth and snuggled onto her lap for a closer look.
‘Once upon a time…’ Libby spoke in a soft voice and several other children slid out of their beds and joined her on the cushions, all listening round-eyed as she told the story.

Having examined the baby and given instructions for the drain to be removed, Andreas walked back through the ward and stopped dead at the sight of Libby, her blonde hair caught back in a bright ribbon, almost buried under a group of contented children.
They were snuggled close to her, listening avidly as she read, one of them holding onto her hand and another settled comfortably on her lap.
She was a little pale, but apart from that she looked none the worse for her excesses of the night before.
In fact, she looked incredibly beautiful and desire slammed through him again.
Bev appeared by his side. ‘I told you she’d be here,’ she said airily, and relieved him of the notes. ‘Don’t disturb her now. That toddler has been screaming since he woke up. We were all at our wits’ end. We’ve given him painkillers but they didn’t help. He needed comfort and that’s Libby’s speciality.’
Was it?
Andreas stared, his attention held by Libby who was laughing at something one of the children had said. She was gentle and smiley and thoroughly at home with the children. Frankly, it wasn’t what he’d expected. Having seen her on the stage, he’d expected shallow and frivolous and what he was seeing was something completely different.
He watched, feeling something shift inside him. After his recent experiences, he’d given up on meeting a woman who found children anything other than a nuisance.
‘She’s good with them.’ His soft observation drew Bev’s glance.
‘Yeah, she’s better than most drugs. No one cheers the children up like Libby,’ she told him. ‘She’s the best. This ward would have collapsed without her. She does the work of three.’
As they watched, the little boy snuggled closer and Libby curved an arm around him and cuddled him closer.
She was a natural storyteller, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm and mischief as she emphasised the drama and held their attention.
She’d just got to the part where the wolf fell into the hot water when she looked up and saw him, her eyes widening with recognition. Her gaze slid to Bev in silent question and her cheeks turned pink with mortification as understanding dawned.
Bev gave a weak smile and shrugged helplessly.
‘More.’ The toddler tugged her arm, frustrated that the story had stopped and oblivious to the drama being played out around him. ‘Want more story.’
Libby swallowed, obediently croaked her way to the end and then scrambled to her feet, Marcus still in her arms.
Bev cleared her throat. ‘This is Andreas Christakos, the new consultant.’ She spoke in a bright, professional voice that did nothing to alleviate the tension in the air. ‘Andreas, this is Elizabeth Westerling. We call her Libby. I think you’ve already met each other…’ Her voice trailed off slightly, and Libby closed her eyes briefly, her cheeks still pink with embarrassment.
One of the little girls tugged at her clothes. ‘I need the toilet, Libby.’
‘I’ll take you, sweetheart,’ Bev said quickly, catching her by the hand, obviously eager to find an excuse to get away.
Another little boy stepped closer. ‘Is that the end of the story?’
Dragging her gaze away from his, Libby glanced down and managed a smile. ‘For now. I’ve got to do some work.’
‘Can we have another story later?’
‘Maybe. If there’s time.’ She stroked Marcus’s hair and put him back in his cot. She looked pale from lack of sleep and there were dark rings under her eyes but her beauty still took Andreas’s breath away.
There were sparks of accusation in her eyes as she turned to face him. ‘Well, that was a pretty dirty trick.’
He lifted an eyebrow quizzically and she glared at him coldly.
‘Not telling me you were the new consultant.’
‘You didn’t ask me. In fact, you didn’t even ask my name. You just passed out on me,’ he pointed out mildly, enjoying the blush that warmed her cheeks. She had incredible skin. Smooth and creamy and untouched by the harshness of the sun.
‘But you knew who I was,’ she said accusingly. ‘You knew I worked on the ward.’
‘There was a strong chance of it.’ He lifted a broad shoulder. ‘So?’
She stared at him incredulously. ‘Didn’t you think that it might be embarrassing? Do you always mix business with pleasure?’
He gave a smile that was totally male. ‘That,’ he said slowly, ‘depends on the extent of the pleasure.’
‘Right.’ She stared at him for a long moment and then looked away, her chest rising and falling rapidly. ‘Well, at least I can save myself postage. Your shirt is in my locker.’
‘My shirt?’
‘The shirt you dressed me in, Dr Christakos.’ Her voice was loaded with accusation. ‘When I was asleep. Remember?’
Of course he remembered.
He remembered every delectable inch of her. ‘I didn’t think you’d be very comfortable sleeping in that pink thing. It seemed a little tight.’
‘Excuse me?’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘I’m supposed to be grateful that you undressed me?’
‘Calm down,’ he drawled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘I kept my eyes closed the whole time. Well—most of the time.’
Libby’s mouth tightened and she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the treatment room.
‘I think we’d better get a few things straight.’ Her blue eyes flashed at him as she let the doors swing closed behind her. ‘I only allowed you to buy me because I thought my brother had sent you. I had no intention of going on a date with anyone.’
‘You’re angry because I bought you?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You would have preferred me to have stood aside and let the blond man buy you?’
She stiffened slightly. ‘No, of course not.’
‘I seem to remember you holding onto me pretty tightly last night.’
His dark eyes glittered with amusement and she coloured. ‘Yes, well, at the time I thought you were rescuing me.’
‘I was.’
She glanced at him impatiently. ‘You know what I mean! I thought my brother had sent you.’
He shrugged carelessly. ‘He didn’t, but I don’t see the problem.’
‘There is no problem, providing you take the £1000 back,’ she said, and he smiled.
‘I don’t want the money,’ he said smoothly. ‘I paid for a date and that’s what I want.’
And this time he was going to take the kiss to its natural conclusion.
She lifted her chin. ‘And do you always get what you want?’
He smiled. ‘Always.’
She sucked in a breath, looking slightly taken aback. ‘Well, you won’t on this occasion. I don’t date men.’
Andreas leaned broad shoulders against the wall and tried to adjust to the fact that he’d just been turned down by a woman. It was a totally new experience.
‘So…’ He shrugged casually. ‘You get to know me a little, and then you say yes.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Confident, aren’t you?’
‘Remember the fireworks, Libby.’
She stilled and her eyes connected with his. For a long moment she stared at him and then she swallowed and backed away, hoping that distance would cure the fluttering in her stomach. ‘Leave me alone. I’m very grateful that you rescued me from Philip last night and I’m grateful that you took me home when I was in a less than coherent state—’
‘You were drunk,’ he slotted in helpfully, and she winced.
‘I hadn’t eaten anything all day and I had one vodka—apparently.’ She rubbed slim fingers across her temple as if the memory alone was enough to inflict a headache. ‘It was hidden in the orange juice.’
Hidden?
‘Anyway.’ She looked at him warily. ‘It’s history now.’
His gaze slid down her slim body, noting that she was trembling and that her hands were clenched into fists by her sides.
Despite her protests, it was blindingly obvious that she was as strongly affected by their encounter as he’d been, and it was hardly surprising. The chemistry between them was overwhelmingly powerful.
Gratified and encouraged by her response to him, he folded his arms across his broad chest and reminded himself that she’d been badly hurt. It was just a question of patience. ‘It isn’t history. You owe me a date.’
‘Haven’t you learned the meaning of the word ‘‘no’’? What the hell is the matter with you men?’ She glared at him with frustration and then stalked across the treatment room, pausing to look at him as she reached the door. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, you have a little girl at home. I don’t think your wife would be too impressed if she could hear you now.’
Andreas tensed, reflecting on how close he’d come to being in exactly the position she’d described.
If it hadn’t been for Adrienne he’d have made a colossal mistake.
‘I don’t have a wife,’ he said softly, ‘and Adrienne isn’t my daughter, she’s my niece. But it’s true that I do have a responsibility towards her for the time being, which is why you slept in the spare room last night and not in my bed.’
Colour flared in her cheeks and she sucked in a breath. ‘I would not have been in your bed, Dr Christakos. I don’t do things like that.’
‘You didn’t know whose bed you were in,’ he pointed out, touching her flushed cheek with a strong finger. ‘That might be a point worth remembering next time you have a drink.’
‘Perhaps you should address your comments to the ward sister,’ she muttered, and he frowned.
So it was the ward sister who’d spiked her drink. Which explained why she’d been so worried about Libby when he’d walked onto the ward alone.
Well, next time he took Libby out he was going to make sure that she didn’t touch a drop of alcohol. He wanted her stone cold sober.
‘What time are you off duty?’
‘That is none of your business. What was it your niece said? That women are always chasing you for your looks and your money?’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘I don’t normally tell people this on such a short acquaintance, but it’s probably only fair to warn you that my father is one of the richest men in England and I’ve always been hideously suspicious of really good-looking men. So you have absolutely nothing to offer me.’
‘How about fireworks?’ He stepped closer to her, amused by the way she snatched in her breath and glared at him. She was trying so hard to pretend that she wasn’t interested in him and he found it surprisingly endearing.
‘Remember those fireworks, Libby,’ he drawled softly, lifting a hand and trailing a finger down the slim line of her throat. ‘Next time we’re going to set them off in private.’
She stared at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. ‘There won’t be a next time and I won’t be seeing you in private. I’m not interested.’
Her anguished rejection of their attraction made his heart twist. It was like dealing with an injured animal.
‘I paid for a date with you, Libby,’ he reminded her calmly, ‘and I intend to claim it.’
Deciding that the first step in her rehabilitation was to kiss her when she was sober, he slid both hands around her face and tilted it, his eyes dropping to her mouth as her lips parted and she sucked in a breath.
Underneath his fingers he could feel a pulse beating in her throat and he lowered his head slowly, deliberately, closing the gap between them.
Her blue eyes locked with his, their breath mingling, and when their mouths finally touched he gave a groan of satisfaction, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips in a sensual onslaught that left her shivering.
He kissed her slowly and thoroughly and when he finally lifted his head she just stared at him, visibly shocked, and he couldn’t prevent the smile of all-male satisfaction that tugged at his mouth.
‘Now try telling me you’re not interested, Libby.’
Without giving her a chance to recover and deliver a suitable response, he left the treatment room and went back to work, deciding that his new job was looking better all the time.
Libby stood frozen to the spot in the treatment room, her whole body trembling.
Her head had been full of a thousand things that she’d wanted to say, and they’d all vanished the moment his mouth had met hers.
She’d never been particularly into kissing if she was honest. Her mind usually wandered and she found herself inventing excuses to end the evening promptly.
But now she realised that she’d never really been kissed before.
Not properly.
Andreas Christakos had kissed her properly. His kiss had been a full-blown seduction which had affected her ability to think coherently.
In fact, the way he kissed made her feel so hot and he made her want more.
If that was the starter then she definitely wanted the main course.
Libby gave a horrified groan and covered her face with her hands.
And the worst thing was that he knew it.
He’d kissed her into a state of quivering, shameless excitement and had then strolled casually out of the room with all the arrogant self-confidence of a man who didn’t know the meaning of rejection.
Libby’s hands dropped to her sides and she tried to pull herself together.
No more kissing, she vowed silently. Absolutely no more kissing. It turned her brain to mush and there was no way she was going to be able to keep him at a safe distance if he did it again.
He was so good-looking it was hard to concentrate and it would have been very, very easy to give in to all that Greek charm.
But she wasn’t going to.
And she definitely wasn’t going on a date with him.
He’d be the same as all the others. Worse probably, if his niece was to be believed. What had she said? That women were always chasing after him?
Libby shuddered. Those sorts of men were always the worst. Smug and arrogant. And definitely not to be trusted.
If he expected her to do any chasing then he was in for a shock. She had more sense than to fall for a pair of sexy dark eyes and an incredible body.
She was going to be running as hard as she could in the opposite direction, and now she knew where to find him she’d be delivering him a cheque at the first opportunity.
She lifted her hand to her mouth, touching her lips gently, wondering whether it was obvious to everyone that she’d just been kissed. She felt as though it was branded on her forehead.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door of the treatment room, glancing furtively around her to check that no one was watching.
She could do it, she told herself firmly. She was a professional and she could work with this man.
OK, so he obviously had a Ph.D. in kissing and he was totally different from doctors that she worked with on a daily basis, but she could do it.
Bev sidled up to her, looking sheepish. ‘Er, Libby…’
Libby glared at her. This was all her fault! ‘Go away. You are not my favourite person right now.’
‘Libby, the man’s gorgeous, you should be thanking me for making it happen.’
‘Thanking you?’ Libby let out a choked laugh. ‘Thanks to you, our new consultant thinks I’m a dizzy, brainless lush with a sad love life.’
‘He paid £1000 for one date with you,’ Bev pointed out wistfully. ‘That’s an enormous sum of money. He can’t think you’re that bad.’
Libby groaned and rubbed slim fingers over her aching forehead. ‘I can’t believe you got me into this mess. How am I ever going to have any credibility with him?’
‘You’re a great nurse,’ Bev said firmly. ‘The minute he sees you in action, he’ll be bowled over.’
‘He undressed me,’ Libby hissed in an outraged tone, and Bev’s eyes widened.
‘Wow. You lucky thing.’
Libby looked at her blankly. ‘Lucky?’
‘Libby, he’s gorgeous,’ Bev breathed wistfully. ‘He is the most stunning-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on.’
‘Precisely. His rat factor must be off the scale.’
Bev rolled her eyes. ‘If someone fancied me enough to pay £1000 for a date, then as far as I’m concerned they could have me for ever. It’s incredibly romantic.’
‘It’s not romantic. It’s embarrassing. And, thanks to you, from now on I’m going to have to avoid him. And how am I going to work with a man I have to avoid? Aargh!’ Libby rolled her eyes in frustration and at that moment one of the more junior nurses hurried up.
‘Libby, can you take a look at Rachel Miller for me, please? The GP sent her in an hour ago with a very high temperature and it’s showing no sign of coming down. I don’t like the look of her. She’s still waiting to be seen by one of the doctors but they’ve been caught up in clinic and I wasn’t sure whether to bother the new consultant.’
With a last meaningful look at Bev, Libby followed her colleague down the ward and into one of the side rooms that had cots and beds for parents who wanted to stay.
The baby was in a side ward and Libby could see instantly that she was very poorly. She lay still in the cot, her breathing noisy and her cheeks flushed. Immediately Libby snapped into professional mode, her personal worries forgotten.
The baby’s mother was by her side, pale and worried. ‘She’s really floppy and so, so hot.’
‘Can you tell me what happened?’ Libby spoke softly, her eyes fixed on the child, assessing her breathing. ‘When did she become ill?’
‘She was a bit under the weather yesterday morning and then she just got worse and worse. By teatime she was just lying on the sofa.’
And she was just lying now. Totally unresponsive. It wasn’t a good sign.
‘Could you get her interested in anything—toys, books?’ The mother shook her head. ‘Nothing. She just lay there. Finally I panicked and took her to the GP and he sent us in here.’
‘And when did she last have paracetamol syrup?’
‘Two hours ago.’ The mother looked at her anxiously. ‘What’s going to happen?’
‘I’m going to check her temperature now and then ask one of the doctors to see her straight away.’ Libby reached for the thermometer. ‘Has she had all her immunisations, Mrs Miller?’
‘Please, call me Alison and, yes, she’s had everything.’
‘Good.’
Libby checked the temperature and recorded it on the chart. ‘It’s very high, as you know. Has she been drinking much?’
‘She’s just not interested in anything.’
‘When did she last have a wet nappy?’
The mother looked startled by the question. ‘I don’t know…’
‘It’s a way of judging her fluid output,’ Libby explained, and the woman nodded.
‘Oh, I see.’ She frowned slightly. ‘I suppose I changed it about three hours ago.’
Libby checked the child’s blood pressure and then gave Alison Miller a brief smile.
‘OK, well, the next thing to do is to ask one of our doctors to see her. We need to find out what’s causing this temperature. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you’re worried, press the buzzer.’
She gritted her teeth and went to find Andreas. She would have preferred to have avoided him completely but that wasn’t an option. Bleeping one of the more junior members of his team would have taken time and she didn’t have time.
And, anyway, she didn’t really want one of the more junior members of his team.
She was worried about little Rachel. She needed someone experienced and he was the consultant after all.
She found him at the nurses’ station, checking a set of X-rays, his shoulders impossibly wide as he stood with his back to her.
Libby swallowed and dragged her mind back to her work. She already knew he was a fantastic kisser. It was time to find out what he was like as a children’s doctor.
‘I need a doctor to see a new admission for me urgently.’ Her tone was cool and ultra-dignified as she struggled to behave as though she hadn’t kissed him senseless and then woken up half-naked in his spare bedroom. ‘I don’t like the look of her. Seeing that the rest of your team are elsewhere, I wondered whether you’d do it.’
Or was he the type of consultant who preferred to delegate to his staff? He turned and she backed away a few steps, watching him warily.
In work mode he suddenly seemed very imposing.
‘I’ll see her.’ He flicked off the light-box and moved towards her. ‘What’s the history?’
Relaxing her guard slightly, Libby fell into step beside him as they walked back to the side ward. ‘She was referred by her GP, but the letter just says that she’s worried about the child’s temperature. Not much else. The child is floppy, she’s refusing fluids and I don’t like the look of her.’
She’d been a children’s nurse long enough to trust her instincts and her instincts were shrieking about Rachel.
‘Great.’ He shot her a wry smile. ‘It’s wonderful to be a GP, isn’t it? If in doubt, refer to hospital and let someone else make the decision.’
‘Before you insult GPs, you should probably know that my brother is doing a GP rotation—’
He lifted an eyebrow and his mouth twitched in humour. ‘This is the same brother who forgot to buy you last night?’
Libby gave a wry smile at the reminder. ‘I still have to speak to him about that. But despite his shortcomings as a brother, he’s a very dedicated doctor. I expect he was caught up with a patient, which was why he didn’t show up. Unluckily for me.’
‘But luckily for me,’ Andreas breathed softly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her.
She blushed hotly. ‘Stop it!’
‘Stop what?’ He dealt her a slow smile. ‘Libby, I haven’t even begun yet.’
Without giving her a chance to speak again, he walked into the side ward and introduced himself to Alison Miller before bending over the cot.
His swift shift from professional to personal and back again flustered her more than she cared to admit, and Libby struggled to concentrate as she followed him into the room.
Andreas didn’t seem to be suffering from the same affliction. His eyes were on his tiny patient.
To the uninitiated it might have seemed as though he was just looking at the baby, but Libby knew that he was accumulating vital pieces of information. She saw his eyes rest on the child’s chest, assessing her breathing, saw the way that he noted her skin colour and the way she lay limp and unresponsive in the cot.
He lifted his head and looked at Libby, the humour gone from his eyes. ‘Temperature?’
‘Forty point seven,’ Libby said immediately, and his mouth tightened.
‘How did you take it?’
‘With a tympanic membrane thermometer. I find it the best method in a child of this age.’
It gave an accurate reading of a child’s core body temperature and didn’t cause undue distress.
Andreas nodded his approval and looked at the chart Libby handed him, his eyes scanning the detail. Then he lifted his head and talked to the mother about the illness, questioning her about immunisations and family history.
As he finished scribbling on the notes, the baby started to cry fretfully.
Alison looked at them. ‘Is it OK to pick her up?’
‘Of course.’ Andreas answered her with a reassuring smile before slipping his pen back into his pocket. ‘Cuddle her. Then I will examine her. Libby, can I take a look at the letter from the GP?’
Libby handed it over. ‘She did speak to Jonathon, your SHO.’
Alison scooped the baby out of the cot and looked at them anxiously. ‘She said that it was probably just a virus but that it was best to be safe as her temperature was so high.’

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