Her Honourable Playboy. Kate Hardy
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all good. Order whatever takes your fancy.’
Well, at least he wasn’t going to order for her.
‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked.
She hadn’t expected that. ‘I thought you’d prefer to order,’ she blurted out—and could have kicked herself at the amused look on his face.
‘I’m not that much of a chauvinist. I don’t know your taste, so I’d rather you picked something you like.’
He was being thoughtful? Maybe she’d misjudged him. ‘What about you?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m driving, so I’m only having one glass. I’m happy to go with your choice.’
OK. She’d take that at face value. When the waiter came back, she ordered a bone-dry Sancerre and chicken livers with bacon, followed by monkfish.
To her surprise, Seb followed suit.
‘I thought you’d be—’
‘A red-meat man?’ He finished her words, and smiled. ‘I like food. All sorts of food.’
That little flicker in his slate-blue eyes meant that ‘all sorts’ applied to more than just food. Seb was trying to flirt with her.
Well, tough. She wasn’t interested in flirting with him, or anything else. As soon as tonight was over, they’d be back to being colleagues—and, as far as she was concerned, the sooner the better.
Even if he was drop-dead gorgeous.
Even if he did have that cute little dimple.
Even if his mouth just invited a kiss.
Seb Radley was trouble, and she’d already had more than enough trouble in her life. She wasn’t going to get involved. Not at all.
A woman who knew what she liked. Seb definitely approved of that. He was bored, bored, bored with the air-headed debutante type who hung on his every word and expected him to make all the choices.
Alyssa was very far from being an airhead. She was interesting. Though he didn’t know the first thing about her—other than that she was very competent at her job and was a lot better at handling kids than he was. And that her eyes were the same shade of green as the sea. How come he’d never noticed that in six months of working with her?
‘How long have you worked at the Docklands Memorial Hospital?’ he asked.
‘Three years.’
She was a bit stingy with information—she was supposed to be chatting back to him. Though he knew it was his own fault for asking a closed question—one that could be answered in a couple of words. OK, Seb. TV presenter mode, he told himself. Put her at her ease—get her talking about a subject we have in common. Which, he guessed, meant their work. ‘Have you always worked in emergency medicine?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Where were you before the DMH?’
‘I moved around a bit.’
Evasive. Hmm. What was she trying to hide? He couldn’t tell a thing about her from her accent—there wasn’t a trace of a regional burr or upper-class clipped vowels. She was a completely unknown quantity. ‘Me, too.’
To his disappointment, she didn’t ask him where he’d worked. And she was clearly uncomfortable chatting with him. He let the conversation lapse and just watched her as she stared out of the window. Actually, she was quite pretty. She had a heart-shaped face, a Cupid’s bow of a lip—and it was her natural shape, too, given that she was barely wearing any make-up—and those stunning eyes. Her hair was in a short, practical bob, and he found himself wondering what it’d look like when it was tousled. When she’d just woken up. When she was still sleepy and warm and soft and off guard, rather than alert and suspicious.
When the food arrived, they ate in near-silence. The stars were out, the food was good and the waiters were unobtrusive. And his companion wasn’t wittering on about nothing and trying to look winsome. This, Seb thought, should have felt perfect.
Except it didn’t.
Alyssa didn’t want to be here. And she didn’t want to go out with him. Not in any way, shape or form. Why?
There was only one way to find out. And he was going to do it her way. The direct way. ‘You really don’t like me, do you?’ he asked.
Alyssa blinked at the question. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. ‘What makes you think that?’ she hedged.
‘Because you haven’t smiled once tonight. Not a genuine smile, anyway.’ He frowned. ‘So what did I do to upset you?’
‘Personally, nothing.’
‘What, then?’
He wanted honesty? Then he’d get it. ‘It’s what you stand for,’ she said quietly.
His frown deepened. ‘Meaning?’
‘As a doctor, you’re fine. You do a great job. As a person…’ She shrugged. ‘Let’s just say, if you were a woman, you’d be called some very nasty names indeed.’
‘Just as well I’m a man, then.’
His flippancy annoyed her. ‘Seb, you just hop from bed to bed. What kind of life is that?’
‘Fun, actually.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please.’
‘Want me to prove it to you?’ Seb gave her a very, very sexy smile.
One that made her toes curl—or would have done, if she hadn’t known it wasn’t meant for her personally. He’d have behaved the same towards any woman. Seb was the sort who’d flirt with anything in a skirt—she just bet he’d be able to charm the most difficult geriatric patient, have her blushing and cooing and agreeing to all the procedures she’d just rejected flatly from someone else.
Well, she knew exactly where charming ended up. She didn’t want to be there again. ‘No, thanks.’
‘So you find me unattractive.’
She flushed. ‘I didn’t say that.’
He pounced. ‘So if I’m not unattractive, logically I must therefore be attractive.’
Yes. Seb was physically gorgeous. Not that she was going to inflate his ego any more by admitting that. ‘I think you’re an egotist. And you hurt people.’
‘Egotist, I’ll give you. Hurting people, no.’ Suddenly the teasing smile was gone from his blue, blue eyes. ‘I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Yes, I sleep with a lot of women. I happen to like sex. A lot. But my partners understand the situation right from the start. I’m not going to get married, or live with someone, or have a permanent relationship of any kind.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit shallow?’
‘Yes. That’s me.’ He spread his hands. ‘Sebastian the Shallow.’
‘Now you’re making fun of me.’
‘No. It’s how I am.’
It was her turn to frown. ‘So why did you become a doctor? And don’t tell me it’s because of the reputation of nurses, and it meant you’d get your pick of any girl you wanted. If you were that shallow, you wouldn’t have had the dedication to study for as long as it takes to get a medical degree—or have made it to consultant level at your age.’
His face shuttered. ‘Medicine just suits me.’
And he wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Which meant that the reason was important to him. ‘Who’s the real Seb?’ she asked softly.
He shrugged. ‘What you see is what you get.’
She didn’t believe him. Somewhere,