Summer With Love: The Spanish Consultant. Sarah Morgan
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for my father’s company. Even when I discovered that I was—’
She caught herself in time and broke off, heart thumping, horrified by what she’d so nearly revealed.
There was a pulsing silence.
‘What did you discover, Katy?’ He was suddenly incredibly still and his dark eyes were watchful.
‘Nothing.’ Her voice was a strangled croak and he muttered something in Spanish and moved towards her.
But whatever he’d intended to say, the opportunity was lost as the mother and toddler returned with their X-rays.
Filled with relief at the reprieve, Katy checked them carefully, aware that he was standing close behind her, feeling his warm breath on the back of her neck.
‘She’s fractured her radius.’ Trying to ignore the tense atmosphere, Katy squinted at the X-ray, visually tracing the cortex of each bone as she’d been taught, looking for irregularities. ‘There’s a slight displacement,’ she murmured, ‘but that shouldn’t matter in a child this young so I’ll just give her painkillers and immobilise it in a cast.’
Jago’s eyes flickered to the X-rays. ‘Have you checked for a second fracture?’
Katy frowned. Was he still trying to catch her out?
‘Yes.’
‘So what makes you so smart, Dr Westerling,’ he muttered under his breath, and she gave a slow smile, ridiculously pleased by the veiled praise.
‘I worked in paediatrics,’ she reminded him lightly, tugging the X-ray out of the light-box and returning it to the folder.
From a professional point of view, working with him was definitely getting easier. He no longer made her feel as though she should be back in medical school.
Unfortunately their personal relationship was much more complicated.
Katy discussed the management of the fracture with the mother, all the time aware that Jago was standing there, biding his time.
Suddenly she felt hideously nervous and she was desperately searching for an excuse to escape from him when Charlotte hurried down with the news that Ambulance Control had rung to say that they were bringing in a nasty head injury.
With a look of savage frustration on his lean, handsome face, Jago departed, leaving her in no doubt whatsoever that the subject wasn’t closed.
CHAPTER SIX
JAGO rang the bell of the flat with impatient fingers and proceeded to pace up and down like a caged tiger.
Ever since their totally unsatisfactory, interrupted conversation, he’d been filled with a rising tension and foreboding.
What had Katy been about to say when she’d stopped in mid-sentence?
Obviously something that she would rather have kept a secret, he reflected grimly, remembering the sudden pallor of her cheeks.
The door suddenly opened and Libby stood there, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, a defiant gleam appearing in her eyes as she recognised him.
‘Yes?’ Her tone was decidedly unfriendly and he tensed. He wasn’t accustomed to receiving such a complete lack of response from a woman.
Obviously he had some serious fence-mending to do with the sister as well as Katy.
‘I need to talk to your sister.’
‘She’s got a date with Freddie tonight,’ Libby announced smoothly. ‘He’s the man she’s marrying in two months’ time.’
Seeing that she was about to close the door in his face, Jago planted a powerful hand in the middle and pushed it open.
‘She won’t be marrying him.’
Given no choice but to let him in, Libby backed away from the door and glared at him. ‘It took years for her to recover when you walked out last time,’ she said frostily. ‘Because of what you did she’s avoided men like the plague. Don’t think Alex and I are going to stand by and let you do it again.’
‘I’m not going to hurt her.’ Jago stood still, wondering why he felt the need to explain himself to Katy’s sister. He wasn’t in the habit of explaining himself to anyone. ‘I came to finish a conversation. She finally told me everything this morning.’
Libby’s blue eyes were suddenly wary. ‘What do you mean, everything?’
Pushing away the slight niggle that he wasn’t playing fair, Jago took instant advantage. He needed the information. He needed to know.
‘Everything. I know about the baby.’ It was no more than an educated guess but he could see from the look in his eyes that he’d hit the jackpot.
‘She told you that?’ Libby’s eyes narrowed. ‘She didn’t mention it to me this evening.’
Jago’s fabled intellect was working overtime, trying to map out a conversation that would give him the information he needed without revealing that there had been no confession.
‘Let’s just say we’ve finally started talking about things we should have talked about a long time ago. It must have been terrible for her.’
‘It was terrible for all of us. We thought she was going to die for a while,’ Libby said softly, her eyes clouded by unpleasant memories. ‘She was devastated when you left, but then to lose the baby was the final straw. And she was so ill.’
She lost the baby?
His baby?
Stunned by the news, Jago masked his expression, determined to elicit all the facts. ‘She was in hospital?’
‘Of course.’ Libby frowned, as if surprised that he should ask such a strange question. ‘It was such a bad fall they were really worried about her.’
Jago was battling with the shock of discovering that Katy had been pregnant when he’d left her and had then lost the baby. He was utterly appalled by the notion that he’d somehow failed to protect her. And confused. How could she have become pregnant?
His hard jaw clenched. Had her father known she was pregnant? And why had she fallen?
His brain was still scanning through a variety of equally distasteful scenarios when the door opened and Katy walked into the room.
Dressed for an evening out, she looked incredibly beautiful in a silky black dress and he felt his body tighten in the most basic of male responses. He adored her curves. Like most men, his preference was for women to be shaped like women rather than sticks, and Katy was every inch a woman. The only thing that was wrong with her appearance was her hair.
His mouth tightened as he saw how carefully she’d styled her hair, twisting it and taming it until it lay subdued on top of her head.
She had fabulous hair. Left loose, it fell like a sleek gold curtain almost to her waist and he’d spent hours smoothing his fingers through it, enjoying its amazing scent and texture. But she’d only ever worn it loose when he’d forced the issue. The rest of the time she’d twisted it into submission on the top of her head.
It was the style she always wore for her parents and he hated it. It was restrained, dignified and repressed. All the things that she thought she ought to be. How many times had he ripped the pins out of her hair when they’d been together?
It was as if she was locking an important part of herself away.
He wondered briefly if her fiancé knew what she was really like underneath that elegant, contained exterior and then almost growled with anger at the thought of another man touching her.
She was his.