Once a Playboy…. Kate Hardy
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flexion and extension, and his finger and thumb movements. She could remember doing this with George; thinking of him made her heart sink. How stupid she’d been to think that George had been serious about wanting to see her. He was a playboy. She would’ve been a temporary distraction for him—and that wasn’t what she wanted. Though she didn’t want a serious relationship, either—because that would mean putting her trust in someone. And how could you trust a playboy not to let you down?
Forcing thoughts of George from her mind, she talked Lenny through the exercises. ‘I’m going to give you a leaflet with all the exercises and the advice I’ve given you today. The exercises are illustrated by photographs, so that’ll help you remember how to do them,’ she explained. ‘You need to do ten reps of each, three or four times a day.’
‘Before every meal and then just before bed?’
‘That sounds about perfect.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll do the first reps now, as it’s lunchtime.’
Yes, lunch that she was going to be spending on her own, at her desk. Which was her own fault; but it was better than the alternative. That she would’ve looked forward to lunch with George and he would’ve stood her up.
She wrote up Lenny’s notes, then checked her phone quickly before she went to the hospital canteen to grab a sandwich, and was shocked to see a text from George.
Even if you have back-to-back patients, you still need a break. I’ll bring lunch with me and wait for you in the waiting room.
What?
She stared at the phone, horror-stricken. He hadn’t replied to her text, so she’d been certain that he’d lost interest in her.
But it seemed that George was planning to meet her at work, completely ignoring her refusal.
Help. No way could George Somers sit in any kind of room without drawing attention to himself. He could be quietly reading a book or something, and women would still be staring at him. He had that kind of presence. If he was in the waiting room right now, he’d stand up to greet her the second she walked in.
People would notice.
People would talk.
The last thing she wanted was people gossiping about her. She just had to hope that George wasn’t already there. Especially as the time-stamp on the text told her he’d only just sent it.
She had to force herself to walk slowly into the waiting room, not to run in panic. To her relief, George wasn’t waiting there. She headed out past the reception desk and was just about to take her phone out of her bag and call him when she saw him walking down the corridor towards her.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘HI.’ GEORGE’s smile made Serena’s knees weak. ‘Busy morning?’
‘Yes.’ She dragged in a breath. She really hadn’t been expecting this. ‘George, I texted you. I said I couldn’t make lunch.’
‘True. But you didn’t give me an alternative date or tell me why you couldn’t make it.’ His eyes glittered. ‘So I guessed that you were actually free, but you’d panicked at the idea of having lunch with me and you’d chickened out.’
She had to admit it. Even though it was embarrassing and made her feel like a gawky teenager instead of a sensible thirty-year-old. ‘Yes,’ she muttered, feeling colour flood into her face.
‘Just as well I’m brave enough for both of us, then,’ he said lightly. ‘I brought some lunch. I thought we could have a picnic in the park opposite the hospital.’
She noticed then that he was carrying a small wicker basket and a blanket. This clearly hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment decision to grab a couple of sandwiches, some fruit and a drink from a shop and then head out into the sunshine. To bring a wicker basket—the sort that looked as if it contained proper cutlery and crockery, as well as food—meant that he must have planned this. ‘You brought a picnic?’ Stupid question. It was obvious. But she didn’t know what else to say.
He shrugged. ‘It seemed like the best solution, in case you were short on time.’
And it also made it difficult—practically impossible—for her to refuse to have lunch with him now.
‘How long have you got until your next appointment?’ he asked.
‘Just over half an hour.’
‘OK. That gives us five minutes to find a nice spot, twenty minutes to eat, and five minutes to walk back so you’re not late for work.’
She appreciated the fact that he took her work seriously and wasn’t expecting her to play hooky just to indulge him. But all the same … ‘George, I know this is really rude of me, and I’m sorry about that, but I just don’t understand why you’re here.’
‘To have lunch with you. As we agreed last week.’
Until she’d backed out. ‘But why me?’ That was what she couldn’t understand. She didn’t belong in his world. ‘Apart from the fact you date a different woman every week, I’m not exactly your type.’
‘Firstly, I don’t date anywhere near as many women as the gossip rags make out; and, secondly, when it comes to you being my type, allow me to be the judge of that.’ He gave her another of the knee-melting smiles. ‘You intrigue me, Serena.’
‘Because I turned you down, and you’re not used to that?’
‘You’re a challenge, you mean? There may be a little truth in that,’ he allowed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘And I like the fact that you’re straight with me. But mainly you just intrigue me. I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Ms James. And I want to find out if my theory about you is right.’
‘What theory?’
‘Have lunch with me, and I might tell you.’
But that wasn’t her only worry. ‘The paparazzi follow you about, don’t they?’
‘Only at parties,’ he said. ‘A few of them followed me to my physiotherapy sessions. But, as soon as they realised what was going on and they weren’t going to get any juicy gossip or photographs because my life is incredibly quiet and slow and boring right now, they stopped following me. So don’t worry—your picture isn’t going to be splashed all over the gossip rags tomorrow.’
‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m just used to … well, a more ordinary life.’
‘No problem. So, shall we go and have some lunch?’
They found a quiet spot in the park; he spread out the blanket and gestured to her to sit down. Even though they were in a public place, this felt oddly intimate. As if it were only the two of them in the park, even though it was the middle of London and the park was full of people enjoying the late summer sunshine.
George opened the basket and removed two plain china plates. Then he looked up and caught her smiling. He gave her a questioning look. ‘What?’
‘I’ve never met anyone who actually owns a proper picnic basket, let alone one that contains real crockery. Wow.’
He smiled back. ‘Picnics are more fun if you do them properly.’
‘So you made the picnic yourself?’
‘No. Though I did I choose the food myself,’ he said. ‘I happen to know a very nice deli. That probably sounds disgustingly lazy, but I should perhaps warn you that I’m a bit challenged in the culinary department. My brother says I’m the worst cook in the universe.’
She laughed. ‘Anyone can make a sandwich, George.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’ He laughed back. ‘Next time, I’ll make them myself and see if you can tell the difference.’
Next time. Her