The nurse was right, it was a classic appendix, and he admitted the child to the ward pending her operation, and went back up to find that Allie was nowhere in sight and the redhead in the sister’s uniform was giving him considering looks. Those kind of looks. Oops. He hoped she wasn’t going to be a problem, because he and Allie had unfinished business.

Well, he did, at any rate. The same might not be true of Allie, of course. The first thing he had to do was find out if she was seeing someone. Anything was possible, even if she didn’t have a date on her birthday—

‘Hi, I’m Anna Long, and you’re Dr Jarvis. We haven’t met. How are you getting on?’ the Sister asked him with a direct and challenging smile.

‘Fine—another routine to learn, but I expect I’ll cope. I’m Mark, by the way.’

Anna smiled again, and he looked around. ‘Is the girl from A&E with appendicitis here yet?’

‘On her way. Allie’s just getting her bed ready with another nurse.’ She shot him a sidelong glance. ‘I gather you and Allie know each other?’

He nodded, wondering what was behind those innocent eyes. Maybe nothing. ‘Yes. I stayed with her parents for a couple of weeks several years ago. I haven’t seen her since. Lots of catching up to do.’

Anna nodded, and he wondered if he was flattering himself or if that was something akin to disappointment that flickered in her eyes. Probably his imagination.

The child with appendicitis arrived, and he did all her paperwork and talked to her parents, and the surgical registrar arrived and checked her over and told them she’d be going up to Theatre in a little while.

Mark ordered a top-up of pain relief should it be necessary, and then as he was about to leave her bedside he caught a flash of pale gold hair as Allie bustled past. He excused himself and followed her.

‘Allie.’

She jumped and turned round, hand on heart. ‘You frightened the life out of me!’ she said with a laugh. ‘How’s our new patient?’

‘Fine. Well, she’s not fine, but she will be. She’s off to Theatre soon. I’ve done all the paperwork. I have to see a young lad with a colostomy—Darren someone?’

‘Forsey. He’s in the single room here. Can you manage?’

He laughed softly. ‘I expect so. Are you busy?’

She nodded, then glanced at her watch. ‘I’m always busy. I have to fly—I’ve got loads to do. I’ll see you at seven if not before.’

‘OK.’ He watched her go, watched the sway of her hips that even the hopelessly unflattering uniform couldn’t render sexless, and felt the tug of an old and familiar desire. Seven o’clock seemed a long time away …

She must be crazy. If only they’d been able to manage lunch it wouldn’t have seemed so much like a date, but she’d promised to meet Lucy and Beth, her housemates, because they were on duty until late tonight and then Lucy had a meeting, and they’d wanted to celebrate her birthday.

Lunch would have been so much better. He just wanted a chat, and now she’d booked a table at a little bistro round the corner, and she was having serious doubts over whether it was too smart or if he’d just meant some pub for a quick drink and a packet of crisps!

Oh, well, she’d go halves. It didn’t matter, she had nothing else to spend her money on and it would be nice to go out for dinner for a change. If only she didn’t have this little fizzle in the pit of her stomach. She hoped she wasn’t going down with something, but she did feel strange.

Excited, almost—

She stabbed her eye with the mascara wand and growled at herself. Excited? He wasn’t interested in her—and she wasn’t interested in him any longer—was she?

Black tears streamed down her cheek, and she blotted and patched and gave up. It was dark outside, and the light in the bistro was pretty lousy. He wouldn’t even notice, and it didn’t matter if he did.

She slipped into her coat and shoes, pocketed her house keys and went out into the crisply chilly night. It was just a short walk over to the hospital, and it was well lit, but it still gave her the creeps. You never knew when a weirdo would be hanging around, and they found out where the nurses lived and put pressure on them for drugs and needles and so on.

It could be dangerous, but that was one of the hazards of living outside the hospital, and she’d had her fill of institutional living. She crossed the road, went through the gate past Security and reached the door just as Mark emerged.

‘Perfect timing,’ she said brightly, and wondered if her heart was going to crash against her ribs every time she clapped eyes on him, or only for the first few days—or weeks—or months!

Darn it. That fizzle was back!

His smile lit the gloomy area behind the building, and warmed her against the chilling wind. ‘My car’s over here, or are we walking?’

‘Oh, we can walk, it’s only round the corner and parking’s difficult there,’ she said. ‘I’ve booked a table at a little bistro—it’s very reasonable, and it’s quite nice, unless you wanted to go to a pub somewhere?’

‘No, not at all. A bistro sounds lovely. I’m starving.’

They strode briskly out along the pavement, huddled up against the bite of the wind. It made conversation difficult, and they hardly talked until they arrived at the restaurant. Then Mark settled back in his chair, hands in his pockets and looking altogether too luscious for her peace of mind, and grinned. ‘So—tell me all about yourself. How long have you been qualified? A year? Two?’

‘A year, just,’ she told him. ‘What about you? You must be twenty-seven now—quite the old man!’

He chuckled. ‘That’s right. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?’ His eyes smiled, and she wondered what he was remembering. ‘So, what have you been doing with yourself?’ he asked, leaning forwards and toying with a breadstick.

‘Apart from finishing my A levels, and training as a paediatric nurse? Not a lot.’

‘So you’re not married.’

She shook her head. ‘No—no, I’m not married, or anything like that. Just me, on my own. Well, not really on my own. I’ve got two housemates, but they’re both nurses and work odd hours, so there’s usually only one there at the most at any given moment. What about you?’ she asked, suddenly conscious of the importance of his answer. ‘Are you married?’

He smiled and leant back again, crunching the breadstick thoughtfully. ‘No, I’m not married—or anything like that—either. Just me, on my own, like you.’

She felt a sudden and absurd little rush of relief that she didn’t care to analyse. ‘So how’s the career going?’ she added, struggling for less rivetingly personal conversation. ‘Still headed for general surgery?’

‘Well, actually—’

‘Good evening, sir, madam. Are you ready to order?’

She looked up at the waiter and smiled. ‘I don’t know. What’s the chefs special tonight? It’s normally very good.’

‘Tagliatelle carbonara,’ he said with pride. ‘It’s superb! Rich and creamy, the sauce is wonderful, with a fresh, crisp side salad.’ He kissed his fingers expressively. ‘Trust me, you’ll love it, madam.’

She laughed. ‘You’ve sold it to me. I’ll have it, it sounds good.’

‘Sir?’

Mark closed the menu. ‘Sounds excellent. And a bottle of house red—is red OK for you, Allie?’

She nodded. ‘Lovely. Thanks.’

He leant back, toying with another breadstick. ‘So, tell me about your parents,’ he said. ‘Are they still well? I spoke to them briefly the other day, but I’m afraid I’ve been a bit lax about keeping in touch.’

‘They’re fine. My father’s taking early retirement—the strain of general practice. He’s nearly fifty-five, and he’s stopping after Christmas. He says they’re going to have lots of holidays, but I’m worried about him. I think he’s suffering from stress, or maybe there’s something else—perhaps something he won’t tell us. I mean, why else would he give up so early?’

Mark laughed softly. ‘Early? Fifty-five? My father died at fifty-eight. He’d planned early retirement and then changed his mind. If he’d taken it, he might still be alive. Anyway, you said your father looks well.’