The Greek Children's Doctor

Part of her envied women who happily went ahead and produced babies without the support of a partner and she was aware that it was happening more and more frequently as women made decisions about their lives without the involvement of a man.

But she wasn’t like that.

She was old-fashioned enough to believe that a baby was a miracle that should be shared with someone you loved. That a baby was part of the person you loved.

Libby sighed and straightened.

She really must stop being so soppy and romantic. Real life just wasn’t like that any more. People got divorced. People had babies without partners. And people had one-night stands. It was a fact of life. It was just that she didn’t want it to be a fact of her life.

She’d always wanted so much more than that, but it seemed that love and fidelity was an endangered species.

With that thought in her head she went through to the treatment room to fetch something—and came face to face with Andreas.

Libby felt the blood drain out of her cheeks and looked round for a suitable means of escape.

‘Well, hello, there. Remember me?’ His voice was a lazy drawl and he planted himself firmly in front of the door so that her exit was blocked. ‘We were at a ball together and then suddenly you vanished.’

And given the chance, she’d vanish again.

‘I went to the ladies.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You spent the night there?’

She flushed. ‘I don’t want to talk about this now.’

‘Well, I do,’ he said pleasantly, and she glared at him.

‘What are you doing here anyway?’

Those dark eyes mocked her. ‘I work here.’

‘But it’s Sunday,’ she muttered, screwing her fingers into her palms and trying to stop her knees trembling. She was fast discovering that it was impossible to look at him without remembering what he’d made her feel. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you on a Sunday.’

In fact, she’d been banking on it.

He gave a faint smile. ‘Avoiding me, Libby?’

‘No.’ She managed a casual shrug, wondering just how fast a heart could beat before it exploded. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Well, it could be something to do with the fact that you vanished in the middle of the evening,’ he said, and she looked away from him.

It had been a pretty dreadful thing to do.

Suddenly feeling guilty for the way she’d behaved, she looked at him uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry if I damaged your ego.’

He studied her with brooding concentration. ‘My ego is totally bombproof, agape mou. But I do want to know what made you run.’

Him.

Her feelings.

‘I didn’t run.’

‘You escaped to the ladies and never returned,’ he reminded her softly, a hint of a smile playing around his firm mouth. ‘I assumed your name must be Cinderella and I searched everywhere for white mice and pumpkins but there was nothing in sight. Not even a stray shoe. All I could see was a cloud of dust as you vanished into the distance.’

‘I didn’t run. I just thought—I…’ Her excuses faltered under his dark scrutiny. ‘Well, I thought that was it so I might as well go home.’

Before she’d started fantasising about fairy-tale endings.

She absolutely didn’t love him.

‘You thought that was it?’ He lifted a dark eyebrow. ‘Excuse me?’

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried to look casual. ‘We had sex, Andreas. No big deal.’

‘‘‘No big deal’’.’ Andreas repeated her words slowly. ‘So, if it was no big deal, Libby, why did you run away?’

Oh, why couldn’t he just drop it?

‘Look…’ Libby closed her eyes briefly, wishing he wasn’t quite so astute or persistent. ‘It was just a one-night stand. Plenty of people have them.’

Just not her.

Andreas looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You poor thing. You really are scared, aren’t you?’

‘Scared?’ Libby stiffened defensively. ‘What am I supposed to be scared of?’

Andreas shrugged. ‘At a guess—letting go. Trusting someone.’ He moved closer to her. ‘Obviously what we shared last night scared you so much that you panicked and couldn’t face me again.’

‘That’s not true,’ she lied, and he gave a wry smile.

‘Libby, you know it is true.’

‘Stop making it into something it wasn’t,’ she said frantically. ‘It was just a one-night stand. It was just sex.’

‘‘‘Just sex’’.’ He repeated her words slowly, and his expression was suddenly serious. ‘Libby, are you taking the Pill?’