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      To my wonderful family, who give me continual love,

      inspiration and happiness.

      CHAPTER ONE

      EVER since she’d been tiny, Julia had always made a special point of trying to appear confident. Well, with three older brothers to boss her around she’d had to be tough to survive. Still, glancing around now at her fellow trainee surgeons, she felt decidedly nervous. Since her disastrous marriage to Tony—who’d done his best to destroy whatever confidence she’d had—her life had been an uphill struggle to even get back to how she’d felt as a teenager, competing against her brilliant medical-student and qualified brothers.

      Coming here, to France, to further her surgical career was the first step on her long journey back to self-confidence. And, in fact, looking out of the taxi as she had been driven down the hill just now towards St Martin sur Mer, she’d been in seventh heaven as she’d absorbed the wonderful scenery spread out in front of her. The stunning view had made her forget any apprehension she’d had about taking this big step.

      She’d found herself overwhelmed with nostalgia as she’d seen the undulating sand dunes spilling down onto the beach and behind them the small, typically French hotels, cafés tabac, restaurants, shops and houses clustered near the high-tech hospital. She’d felt the excitement she’d known as a child when her French mother and English father, both doctors, had brought the whole family here for a couple of weeks every summer holiday.

      She brought her thoughts back to the present as the eminent professor of orthopaedic surgery strode into the room. She caught her breath. Wow! Bernard Cappelle looked much younger than she’d expected and very … handsome? She paused, surprised by the turn of her wicked thoughts. It had been a very long time since she’d noticed any man in that way.

      He was more than handsome, he was charismatic. Yes, that was more like it. He was oozing the sort of confidence she longed to acquire. Well, maybe, just maybe in another ten years, when she was an eminent surgeon, she would stride into a room and silence would descend as her students stared in awe at their professor of surgery, as was happening now with the great Bernard Cappelle.

      If she hadn’t made a concrete decision to hold off relationships since Tony had bled her dry of all desire for emotional commitment of any kind she would have allowed herself to fancy Bernard Cappelle.

      In your dreams, girl! No chance! She wouldn’t let herself even fantasise about him. Good! That meant she could concentrate on making the most of the six-month course without wasting her energy on emotional dreams about an unattainable man who wouldn’t even notice her.

      The awesome man cleared his throat as he looked around the assembled doctors. Ah, so he was possibly a bit nervous? At least that meant he had a human side.

      ‘Hello, and welcome, ladies and gentlemen. I hope that …’

      Bernard Cappelle began by welcoming them to the Hopital de la Plage, which would be their place of study and work for the six-month course. He explained they would study an orthopaedic operation theoretically before they moved on to the practical aspect of observing and assisting in Theatre. They would also be expected to assist with the pre- and post-operative care of the patients and also work in Urgences, the accident and emergency department, on occasion if required.

      Julia took notes but realised soon enough that she’d read most of this in the brochure she’d studied carefully before applying. So she allowed herself to study the man who was to lead them all to the final exams, which would give them a prestigious qualification that would be a definite help to her in her desire to become a first-class orthopaedic surgeon.

      She sat back in her hard and uncomfortable chair, probably designed to keep students awake. There were ten students on the course, Dr Cappelle explained. He’d chosen them from their CVs and was confident from their qualifications and experience that they were all going to give the next six months one hundred per cent of their available effort. He paused for a moment and his eyes swept the room before alighting on Julia in the front row.

      ‘Are you happy for me to speak French all the time, Dr Montgomery?’ he asked in heavily accented but charming English.

      She was taken aback by suddenly being the centre of attention. Everyone was waiting for her reply. She swallowed hard. ‘Yes, yes, of course. My mother is French, my father English, so I’m bilingual.’

      ‘Then if you are happy I will speak in French …’ He went on to explain that he was much happier when speaking French. ‘And you are not intimidated by being the only lady in the class?’

      She sat up straight, trying to look bigger than she actually was. ‘Not at all. I was brought up with three brothers who did their best to intimidate me but without success.’

      There was a scattering of sympathetic laughter. She was quaking in her shoes but making a valiant effort not to show it. She wished he would take his eyes off her and attention would focus on someone else.

      ‘Excellent!’

      A student sitting nearby spoke out in a clear distinct voice. ‘Why is it, sir, that women orthopaedic surgeons are few and far between?’

      Bernard Cappelle appeared to be giving the matter some thought. ‘Good question. Could it be that the fairer sex are more delicate and possibly wary of taking on a profession that requires a certain amount of strength on occasions? What is your view, Dr Montgomery?’

      ‘I have to say,’ she continued boldly, forcing herself to display a confidence she didn’t feel, ‘I’m surprised to be the only woman on the course. I’ve never found, during my early career so far in orthopaedics, that being female is a disadvantage. When you’re operating the patient is usually sedated in some way … I mean they’re not likely to struggle with you or …’

      Her voice trailed away as her depleted confidence ebbed and flowed.

      The student who’d begun the discussion broke in. ‘And there’s always some hunky big, strong male doctor hovering around a fragile lady, hoping she’ll ask for his help so that he can muscle in and …’

      She missed the end of his sentence because the entire group was now laughing loudly. Ha, ha, very funny … she didn’t think. She waited until the laughter died down before taking a deep breath and speaking in the clear, concise, correct French her well-spoken mother had always insisted she use.

      ‘Gentlemen, you can be assured that I never take advantage