The Greek Doctor's New-Year Baby. Kate Hardy

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The Greek Doctor's New-Year Baby - Kate Hardy


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shrugged. ‘The hospital canteen’s OK.’

      ‘They do espresso?’ he checked.

      ‘Oh. You mean serious coffee.’ For a moment, he thought she was going to give him the brush-off. Then she smiled. ‘I know the perfect place.’

      She led him to a small café not far from the hospital. ‘Giovanni’s—it’s Italian?’ he asked.

      She nodded.

      ‘A little family place. Sounds good to me.’

      ‘Actually, it’s a chain,’ she corrected. ‘But it’s a good one. And I’m very glad there’s a branch just round the corner from the hospital. They do the best coffee in London—not to mention these fantastic organic chocolate brownies.’

      She ordered a frothy cappuccino and a brownie, and shook her head when he ordered a double espresso. ‘That much caffeine is seriously bad for you, Theo. How on earth do you sleep?’

      ‘I’m used to it.’ He smiled. ‘Espresso is the nearest I can get to Greek coffee outside home. Unless you happen to know a decent Greek restaurant around here?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid Greek coffee is a taste I haven’t acquired. It’s all the bits.’ She grimaced. ‘That thick gloopy stuff at the bottom.’

      He laughed. ‘You’re not supposed to drink it to the last drop. And the kaimaki—the froth—is gorgeous, if it’s made properly. Like an espresso. But I admit it’s an acquired taste, and I can’t drink it sweet, the way my father does.’ He paused. ‘I enjoyed working with you today. You’re as good a doctor as you are a dancer. Intuitive and empathetic.’

      To his pleasure, her eyes widened slightly. So she wasn’t entirely indifferent to him, then? She felt this same weird pull, the chemistry between them?

      ‘Thank you.’ She inclined her head. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to thank you for the dance at the ball.’

      He shrugged. ‘Your friend was rather—how should I say?—intent on seeing you.’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Put it down to too much champagne. On his part, not mine.’

      ‘I hear you organised the ball. And that you made enough for half a scanner.’

      ‘Only the first half of it.’

      ‘That’s still a pretty big achievement.’

      She shrugged it off. ‘I was part of a committee.’

      ‘But the ball was your idea?’

      ‘The music was.’ She grinned. ‘One of these days I’m going to convert these philistines and make them admit that the old songs are the best.’

      ‘So you don’t like modern music?’

      ‘I just like something I can sing along to. The kind of stuff that puts a smile on your face when you hear it because it’s so full of verve. And I don’t care if people think it’s old-fashioned: I like it.’ She took a sip of her coffee. ‘I suppose it’s because it’s the stuff I grew up with. Dad always had it playing in the garage when he was tinkering with a car. Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, that sort of stuff.’

      He couldn’t help smiling. ‘So would I be right in guessing that your favourite films are musicals?’

      ‘Absolutely. You can’t beat a good Gene Kelly film,’ she said, smiling back.

      The more Theo talked to Madison, the more he liked her. Felt a connection with her. Wanted to spend time with her. Which made her dangerous. He should stop this right now. Apart from the fact that he was only here for six months, he knew that mixing work and relationships could make life much too complicated. And he wasn’t looking for a relationship in any case.

      Yet his mouth seemed to have other ideas.

      ‘I won something pretty stunning on the tombola—a balloon flight at sunrise. Why don’t you come with me?’

      She went very still. ‘Are you asking me on a date?’

      This time his head managed to overrule his heart where his mouth was concerned. ‘I’m asking you as a colleague and potential friend,’ he said.

      She smiled. ‘Then thank you. I’d like that. I’ve never been in a balloon.’

      ‘Then let’s synchronise our off-duty. When are you free?’

      She took her diary from her handbag. ‘Thursday or Friday?’

      ‘Not this week. How about next week?’ he suggested.

      ‘Tuesday and Wednesday.’

      ‘Wednesday it is,’ he said. ‘I’ll book the flight and find out what we need to know.’

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