Her Honorable Playboy, page 2
‘I don’t care—I hate the things anyway. His grandmother bought them because she says he looked too scruffy in the pull-up joggers he normally wears. She said he ought to have proper trousers, like they had when my husband was small.’
‘Mothers, eh?’ Seb said, smiling wryly. Your own mother was meant to be nice and the mother-in-law was from hell. Given what his mother was like, he never wanted to test that theory. The woman who was worse than Mara hardly bore thinking about.
And the kid was still crying. Oh, hell. He hated this. And his attempts at jollying the little boy along clearly weren’t working. He needed help. A nurse. Someone who was better with kids than he was. ‘I’m just going to get the kit I need. Back in two seconds,’ he said, and left the corridor with relief.
The first member of staff he met, he’d beg for help.
He almost—almost—revised that idea when he met said member of staff. But he could still hear the little boy crying. He had to go for the lesser of two evils. And Alyssa Ward was at least cool and calm. She’d be far better with the kid than he was.
He switched to charm mode. ‘Alyssa, can I borrow you for a moment, please? I need your help.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What?’
‘Little boy with a zip problem. I need someone to distract him while I do the necessary.’ Please, please, let her say yes. Please, let her like kids. Please, let her help me.
She shrugged. ‘OK.’
His smile, this time, was genuine. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it. Cubicle five. I’m just going to get the lidocaine, mineral oil and cutters.’
By the time he returned—only a few moments later—the little boy was sitting on Alyssa’s lap and she was telling him a story. The child was still crying, but he was more interested in the story—something about a train and a dinosaur. Alyssa was a natural, Seb thought.
And then the lightbulb pinged. Of course. Question: why wouldn’t you want a swish night out? Answer: when you were married with a small child.
He glanced automatically at her left hand. No wedding ring. Either she didn’t wear it at work for hygiene reasons, or she wasn’t married but was still committed.
Well, that was an easy one. He’d arrange a babysitter, and she could still have the night out—but with her partner instead of him.
And he could go partying without having to worry about not fulfilling the terms of his promise.
Sorted.
He painted iodine onto the little boy’s skin, then slipped in some lidocaine. As the numbing action began to work, the child’s sobs diminished and he even started to talk back to Alyssa, asking her bits about the story.
Not wanting to break the peace, Seb quietly told the mother exactly what he was going to do and then worked swiftly in silence. He covered the area in mineral oil—it wasn’t enough to make the zip move, so he was going to have to cut the slide. Alyssa was still distracting the little boy, which was good—it meant the child wouldn’t worry about the orthopaedic pin cutters which Seb had brought with him.
There was one nasty moment when Seb thought he was going to have to try the other way—using heavy-duty towel clamps on either side of the zip slide and twisting the thing apart—but then the fastener slid apart, releasing the little boy’s skin.
Result.
He pulled the exposed zipper teeth open, cleaned the crushed skin and applied some ointment.
‘Has your little boy had his tetanus injection?’ he asked.
The woman nodded, looking relieved.
‘That’s good. Now, he’s going to be a bit sore for a while, but there won’t be any lasting damage. If you’re worried about anything at all, call your GP or come back here and we’ll take a look.’
‘Thank you.’
He smiled. ‘Hey, I just did the easy part. Alyssa did the tough bit.’ And he really meant it. She’d done the thing he found more difficult than anything else: she’d calmed the little boy right down.
‘Thank you, both of you.’
Alyssa brought her story to a swift conclusion, but before she could follow the patient out of the cubicles Seb said softly, ‘Alyssa?’
‘Mmm-hmm?’ She looked faintly wary.
‘Thank you for bailing me out.’
‘Kids worry you?’
Was it that obvious? ‘I’m just…I don’t have the rapport with them that you clearly do.’
‘No problems.’
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were…well, married with kids. Of course you won’t want a night out on the town with me. But you won the raffle fair and square, so I’m more than happy to pay for a babysitter as well as the rest of it, so you and your husband can have a night out together.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I’m not married.’
‘Partner, then.’
Her green eyes glittered. ‘And I don’t have children. It’s just part of my job.’
Hell, she was back to freezing him again. And he didn’t like the way she was looking at him. Kind of, well, as if she despised him. And it was irritation that made him say something he knew was seriously stupid, even as he spoke the words. ‘Then, if you’re free, let’s get it over with. Tonight. I’ll pick you up at half seven.’
Without giving her the chance to say no, he went to find his next patient.
Chapter 2
Alyssa really didn’t want to go on this stupid night out.
But what choice did she have? If she refused, people would start asking questions. Nosy questions. Dig into things she’d rather keep where they belonged: firmly in the past. Plus, the hospital grapevine would make a big thing about it. For weeks staff on other wards would be pointing her out in the corridors or the canteen as The Woman Who Said No To Seb Radley. Alyssa hated being gossiped about. Been there, done that, absolutely no way in hell she’d ever put herself in that situation again.
And then there was Seb himself. He wasn’t the sort of man who took no for an answer—not unless there was a good reason. Which there was, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him and have him laughing at her.
So that meant going out with him. Which made her a doormat, for letting other people bully her into doing something she really didn’t want to do. Also been there, done that, absolutely no way in hell she’d put herself in that situation again.
Whichever way she looked at it, she lost.
Out of all the hundreds of tickets sold, why had they had to pick hers out?
And then a truly nasty suspicion hit her. Tracey had bought the ticket for her. Tracey—so Alyssa had heard—had been the one to pick the ticket out. Coincidence? Or had it all been a fix?
No. Surely not. Tracey knew Alyssa hadn’t wanted the date. It had to be a coincidence.
All the same, it niggled at her.
‘Right. Night out with Seb.’ Mr Smooth And Charming. It would’ve helped if he’d told her where they were going when he’d asked her for her address earlier that afternoon. Should she dress up? Dress down? ‘Bloody man,’ she muttered.
Still, it was just one night. It was a charity thing. So he wouldn’t try it on with her; he wouldn’t try to add her to the notches on his bedpost. If he did…then she’d remind him about that case they’d worked on today. Toddlers weren’t the only ones who could catch themselves in a zip. Especially if they had a helping hand. That would be enough to make him realise that she meant business and he was wasting his time.
In the end, she opted for a little black dress and low-key make-up.
At precisely half past seven, her doorbell went.
Well, she supposed that was one point in his favour. He hadn’t turned up early, trying to put her on the spot; and he hadn’t turned up late, making her stew even more about this whole stupid situation.
She opened the door and her eyes widened.
Seb usually wore a suit at work, but so did the other male consultants. And, sure, she’d seen his picture in the gossip rags often enough, with a woman hanging onto his arm and batting her eyelashes. But she hadn’t been prepared for just how good he looked in the flesh, wearing a dinner jacket. Dress shirt. Bow-tie—a proper one, hand-tied, rather than a fake one. Skin freshly shaven. Hair neat. Shoes—hand-made Italian leather which he’d probably bought in Milan, knowing him—perfectly shined.
Everything precisely calculated to make a woman swoon.
Well, she wasn’t an ordinary woman. She wasn’t going to swoon.
Even if, just for a moment, she would have liked to.
‘Hi,’ he said.
Then he smiled.
He had a dimple. A dimple. How come she’d never noticed it at work? That dimple completely undermined his sophisticated act. It made him look cute. And it made her want to reach out and touch him. Just the tip of her finger to the middle of his dimple. From there it would be a tiny, tiny distance to the corner of his mouth. And then tracing the outline of that full lower lip, one that promised the most mind-blowing kisses.
Uh.
She pulled herself together and hoped he hadn’t noticed her hesitation. ‘Hello, Seb.’
‘Ready?’
Not in a million years. ‘Sure,’ she said, affecting a calm she definitely didn’t feel.
‘Let’s go.’
He had a low-slung sports car. An expensive boy toy. Well, Seb would.
‘Like the car?’ Seb asked.
She shrugged. ‘It’s got four wheels.’ And every bit of chrome was polished to a high sheen. The leather interior was flawless. Clearly it was his pride and joy.
‘This,’ he said with a grin, ‘isn’t just a car. It’s a vintage E-type Jaguar.’
She couldn’t help herself. ‘Fancy yourself as James Bond?’ Though, she had to admit, he’d make a good James Bond. Smoother than Sean Connery—or Pierce Brosnan, her favourite. Sexier, too.
‘No, that’d be an Aston Martin. Everyone remembers the DB5 from Thunderball—or maybe you’re thinking about the V12 in Die Another Day.’
A car was just a car in her eyes—but trust him to know the difference. Still, it could’ve been worse. She wouldn’t have put it past Seb Radley to pick her up in a stretch limo with a chauffeur in full livery.
He opened the door for her. Polite, but not pushy—or maybe he just didn’t want anyone else’s fingerprints on the car’s paintwork.
OK. She could do this. It was just one evening, that was all. Not a date, and there was no future in it. Nothing to worry about.
When Seb had joined her in the car and fastened his seat belt, she asked, ‘Where are we going?’
‘A quiet restaurant.’
‘Not out partying?’ She couldn’t help the snipe.
He came straight back with, ‘Didn’t think it was your style.’
A low blow, but she supposed she deserved it.
She didn’t say much during the rest of the drive, just let him concentrate on the driving. And he was a good driver. She’d give him that.
The restaurant turned out to be small and discreet, overlooking the Thames. And Seb, of course, had got the best possible table, by the window—just perfect for watching the sky darken and all the lights come out.
‘Very pretty,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘The food’s good.’
The waiter, when he brought them the menu, addressed Seb by name. Clearly it was a favourite haunt of the Hon. Sebastian Radley. The waiter also didn’t give her a second look so, equally clearly, Seb must bring a lot of women there. Alyssa was just one in a long, long line.
Not that it should sting. This wasn’t a date, and she wasn’t interested in Sebastian. There was absolutely nothing to feel upset about. She pushed the emotions back where they belonged. Buried.
This was an expensive place, too, she thought, because there were no prices on the menu. Obviously he intended to impress. Well, she wasn’t twenty-five any more. She didn’t fall for surface charm. ‘What do you recommend?’ she asked.
He looked casually down the list. ‘It’s 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.’
