The Greek Children's Doctor (Westerling)

Rachel Miller was back in for some tests. The baby was sitting in her cot cooing happily and playing with a stuffed toy.

Alison smiled when she saw Libby. ‘She’s fine now, but Dr Christakos wanted her to have those tests and they couldn’t do them when she was in a few weeks ago.’

Libby nodded. ‘They shouldn’t take long.’ Libby leaned into the cot and pulled faces at Rachel, who chuckled happily and reached to grab her. ‘She’s gorgeous, Alison. You’re very lucky.’

‘I know.’ Alison smiled proudly at her daughter. ‘We wanted a baby so badly and we tried for so long to have her. I still have to pinch myself.’

Libby looked at the little girl wistfully, feeling a sick empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She knew all about wanting a baby badly. There were days when she positively ached for a child of her own. But she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that it was never going to happen.

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.’