CHAPTER TWO

      ‘LET ME GET this straight—you’re asking me out on a date?’

      Effie was infinitely proud of the way she’d kept any shake out of her quiet voice. The same could not be said for her stentorian heart.

      ‘No. I’m asking you out on a fake date.’

      ‘I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted.’ Her eyebrows felt as if they were somewhere up in the vicinity of her hairline. ‘Is this some kind of practical joke? Hazing the new member of staff? Because I can tell you right now—’

      He made no attempt to conceal his irritation as he cut her off. ‘It isn’t. I don’t have time for stupid pranks, and I hardly think this would be a particularly funny one even if I did. I need a date for the ball and you fit the bill.’

      ‘There are probably a hundred women in this hospital alone who would jump at your oh-so-romantic offer.’ Effie felt she’d injected just the right amount of sarcasm into her tone. ‘But I am not one of them.’

      She wasn’t some green doctor, about to go giddy because the gorgeous Tak Basu was talking to her. She’d refused to do that six weeks ago, when one of her first ever air ambulance cases had thrown her a hillside rescue and a man, Douglas Jacobs, suffering from expressive aphasia.

      Tak had been the neurological consultant on call. He’d threatened to steal her breath away on sight. But she’d been determined not to let him.

      Tall, with archetypal brooding dark looks, he wasn’t exactly a playboy, but rumour had it that he had dated some high-profile stunning women in his time.

      Well, good for him. But good-looking, arrogant males held little interest for her. Hadn’t she been there, done that, and ended up at just turned eighteen years old, heading to Oxford University with a newborn infant in tow?

      For the past thirteen years Nell had been her life. She hadn’t wanted anything—even her longed-for medical career—as much as she’d wanted to take care of her daughter. But something about this man sent her body’s warning system into motion, into an internal flurry, like ants who had just had dirt knocked into their nest.

      ‘I don’t think you are remotely one of them. Which is precisely why I’m asking you. No jokes, no hazing—just a mutually beneficial arrangement.’

      She opened her mouth to reply but no words came.

      A fake date, indeed. It should sound insane. Nonsensical. Yet his rich, even tone and neutral expression made it sound utterly plausible. Normal, even. As if a fake date was a completely run-of-the-mill daily event.

      Perhaps it was in his world.

      Tak Basu—one of the hospital’s brightest stars. Talk about an eligible bachelor. His reputation for medical excellence preceded him only slightly more than his brooding good looks and an immorally stunning Adonis physique that would make even the most pious woman ache to sin.

      Yet now she realised that not even the most fevered description could accurately convey just how devastating he was in the flesh, or just how paralysing his sheer magnetism truly was.

      Every hair on her body felt as though it was standing to attention. Ready to do his bidding—eager, even. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced in the whole of her life.

      Then there were the smaller things. Like his big hands, strong forearms, the way he stood as though he owned the world. Or the shock of thick black hair, longer on top than she might have expected, which only added to his already six foot three height. It looked soft and inviting, and it took Effie a moment to realise that her fingers were actually aching with the urge to test it out.

      And so she perched there on her stool, pretending she was still working so that she didn’t have to turn to him and withstand the full weight of her inconvenient attraction. The fact that he didn’t seem to date much only enhanced his appeal—and his mystique.

      Finally—mercifully—she found her tongue again. ‘What on earth makes you think I want a fake date?’ She flushed. ‘Or indeed any kind of date.’

      She studiously ignored the little voice in her head taunting her for engaging with him. Telling her that had it been anyone else she would already have declined politely before walking away.

      ‘Isn’t that rather the point?’ His mouth curved slightly in what could only be described as a sinful smile. ‘If it’s a fake date, then it isn’t really any kind of date.’

      ‘Semantics.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Or riddles. In any case, I’ve never really cared for either. Just as I really don’t need a date—fake or otherwise.’

      Still she didn’t make herself walk away. Why was that?

      ‘I don’t understand how I...how a fake date...concerns me.’

      And she wanted to understand. Perhaps a little bit too much. Even if he was eyeing her as though to him she rated as about as intelligent as the average sponge in the animal kingdom. She could take offense, but that really wasn’t her style. Who had time in a job like her?

      ‘Hetti suggested otherwise.’

      ‘Hetti?’

      ‘Yes, Hetti. The other Dr Basu.’ He jerked his head towards where his sister and her team were focussed on the cyclist. ‘Hemavati.’

      Something clicked. How had she missed it before? Probably something to do with the stress of moving house, moving town, moving halfway across the country. And at every step fighting with her thirteen-going-on-thirty-year-old daughter, who hadn’t wanted to leave everything she knew.

      ‘Hetti? Yes, I know who Hetti is. I just don’t understand why she would have mentioned me to you.’

      She and Hetti had worked together for a couple of years back at Allport Infirmary’s A&E. They’d even been friends. Well, as close to being friends as two rather guarded individuals could be. Probably that was one of their shared traits, which had drawn them to each other.

      ‘She mentioned that you were caught on the horns of a dilemma—not wanting a date for the charity gala on one side and risking being hit on all night if you’re without a date on the other. Apparently you’ve swiftly shut down any man who has asked you.’

      Nothing about Nell, then. That was good. The last thing she wanted was people gossiping about her having been a teenage mum, or privately questioning whether she was really up to the job of being an air ambulance doctor. It was such a demanding, limited environment, and lives literally depended on her and her two paramedics.

      No one else. Just the three of them. Not like in the A&E, where she’d been a doctor up until now, where she could call on a colleague for a consult if she needed to.

      So