The Greek Doctor's New-Year Baby

‘Usually,’ she admitted. ‘Though I’m never late for my shift.’

He laughed. ‘Hey. We’re not at work now.’

‘No.’

‘But since you’ve got my head back in doctor mode, there’s something I forgot to ask you—do you have any medical condition that means you shouldn’t fly?’

‘I’m disgustingly healthy,’ she said.

‘Good.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry, this is a very personal question…but there’s no chance you could be pregnant?’

She felt the colour wash into her face. ‘No.’ She hadn’t actually slept with anyone for two years—and she’d regretted that. Not that she was going to admit either fact to Theo.

‘OK. And I’m sorry I offended you.’

‘No offence taken.’ Though there was one problem. Because of what he’d asked, she was thinking about sex. Specifically, sex with him. Which her common sense told her would be a very bad idea, although her libido was turning a series of cartwheels at the thought.

In accordance with Theo’s instructions, they reached the meeting place near Tower Bridge at a quarter past six for the pre-flight briefing. Madison’s attention was caught by the balloon itself. An enormous wicker basket with six rigid poles going up to hold the burner, and then the most enormous piece of…what? Silk? Nylon? She had no idea. But it was fascinating to watch the balloon flight team putting everything together and inflating the balloon, first with a fan and then the flames shooting into the mouth of the balloon to warm the air and make the balloon envelope rise.

When the balloon was finally upright, the pilot put the instruments and maps on board, and then it was time for the passengers to board. As they drew closer, Madison realised just how big the basket was. How deep. And, not for the first time, she wished she’d inherited the family height gene like her cousin Katrina, rather than being the shortest member of the family.

‘Want a hand in?’ Theo asked.

Part of her wanted to stand on her dignity and say, no, she could manage. But the sensible side of her knew what that would mean: a head-first, embarrassing dive into the balloon—even if she managed to negotiate the footholds. ‘Thank you. That’d be good,’ she said.

‘I apologise in advance for the caveman bit,’ he said, and scooped her up into his arms; she was forced to slide her arms round his neck for balance until he sat her on the edge of the wicker basket. Then she twisted her legs round and slid into the basket.

‘Thanks. I think even high heels wouldn’t have been enough to help me climb in,’ she said brightly, trying to keep her mind off the fact that she’d just had her arms round his neck and his body had been very, very close to hers.

‘Apart from the fact they wouldn’t be sensible footwear.’ Theo looked all the way down her body. Head to toe and then back again to meet her gaze. And the sultry look in his eyes made Madison’s heart beat just that little bit faster.

It was noisy in the balloon, with the burners still heating the air inside the balloon envelope—and then she realised that they were off the ground. Considerably off the ground.

She blinked. ‘Wow. I was expecting it to be—well, bumpier than this,’ she said. ‘Like being on a boat going out to sea.’

‘We’re moving with the wind, so that’s why we can’t feel the currents. And a passenger basket this size is really, really stable. It shouldn’t rock or sway at all.’

‘Either you’ve done this before or you looked it up on the Internet.’

‘Both,’ he admitted. ‘I was in Australia last year and took a trip across the desert at sunrise. The sand was red and there were kangaroos bounding along, and as the sun rose the light turned all the grey saltbush to green. It was incredible.’

‘Sounds it. Mind you, so is this. London in the early spring—look, you can see all the trees starting to turn green over again.’ She looked down, keeping her hands firmly on the edge of the basket. The burners had gone off again, and they were just floating in the air. Everything around them was still and silent. She could hear the sound of traffic below, and gulls squawking over the Thames.

‘I’ve never seen London like this before,’ she said softly. ‘Even going on the London Eye is nothing compared with this. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, Theo.’

The burners sprang into life again, and Theo was forced to bend closer to her so his mouth was close enough to her ear for her to hear his reply. ‘My pleasure. Though, as one of the main organisers of the ball, you’re the best person for me to share it with anyway. You deserve a treat for all that hard work.’

‘Maybe.’ She rested her hands on the rim of the basket and looked out as the pilot pointed out more landmarks. Theo was standing behind her, and it felt natural for him to be looking over her shoulder, his hands resting against the basket on either side of hers. And even more natural for her to lean back slightly against him.

The gap between their hands narrowed imperceptibly, and he moved slightly closer, cradling her body against his. And she wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but then her left hand was covering his, and his right hand was covering hers, and she was aware of every nerve end in her skin.

‘Would you like me to take a picture of you together?’ one of the other passengers asked.

‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’ Theo fished his mobile phone from his pocket and set it to camera mode before handing it to her.

‘Stand a bit closer together—I can’t quite get you both in.’

Theo stood behind Madison and slid his arms round her waist, pulling her back against him.

‘Now, smile.’

Smile, when her knees had just melted and her temperature had risen about ten degrees? But she managed it. Just.

The woman took a photograph, and a second ‘just in case’, then smiled at them. ‘You make a lovely couple.’

‘Thank you,’ Theo said.

For the return of the phone?

Or for the compliment?

Maybe they’d just hit a patch of particularly thin air, because she definitely couldn’t think straight. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled.

Theo stayed close to her for the rest of the balloon trip. And although they’d been warned that in four out of five flights the balloon landed on its side, and they’d braced themselves for the impact, she still wasn’t prepared for the fact that the basket tipped over and she landed on top of Theo.

Full length.

Plastered against him.

His arms automatically came round her. It was the obvious thing to do, to keep them stable—but then again he’d spent most of the balloon ride with his arms round her.

If she lifted her head from his shoulder, she was close enough to kiss him.

And if they hadn’t had the other passengers from the balloon and the pilot with them, she knew she would have done it. Teased that gorgeous, sexy mouth until he was kissing her back and his hands were sliding underneath her fleece and her camisole to encounter bare skin. And she would’ve been just as quick to rip his clothes off.

Oh, lord.

She could feel her face burning, but Theo didn’t make any comment. He merely joined the others in helping to roll up the surprisingly heavy balloon and loading it into the back of the Land Rover that had followed the balloon across London to Alexandra Palace and obtained clearance for them to land.

‘So, did you enjoy your first balloon ride?’ he asked as they walked through the park towards the tube station.

‘It was amazing. I’ve lived in London for twelve years now, but it’s made me see the city with new eyes. There are so many places I haven’t explored.’

He waited a beat. ‘Maybe we could explore them together,’ he suggested.

It shocked her how just much she wanted to agree. ‘Maybe,’ she said.

When they were sitting on the tube, he slanted her a look. ‘Are you doing anything special for the rest of the day?’

‘Does an appointment with an ironing board and a pile of laundry the height of K2 count?’ she asked wryly.

‘That,’ he said, ‘doesn’t sound like fun. How about having lunch with me first?’

‘As long as you let me pay,’ she said. ‘My treat—seeing as you shared your prize with me.’

He smiled. ‘I didn’t mean in a restaurant. I don’t live far from a tube station. Come and have lunch with me.’

Go to his home?

She’d have to be crazy, especially given the way her body had reacted to his on the balloon. ‘It’s a bit early for lunch.’ It was barely eleven.

He shrugged. ‘We were up early. I’d say it’s lunchtime.’ He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging her. He couldn’t make it any clearer that he thought she was being a coward.

Well, she wasn’t. ‘Lunch,’ she said, lifting her chin, ‘would be lovely.’

‘Good.’

He unlocked the front door of a tiny Victorian terrace with a pocket-handkerchief-sized front garden. The décor was neutral—which she’d expected from a rented house—though a brief glance into the living room as she passed the open door showed framed photographs clustered on the mantelpiece. So clearly he was trying to make the place home rather than just somewhere to live.

‘Anything I can do to help?’ she asked.

‘You can put the kettle on, if you like.’ His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Don’t worry—I have English coffee.’ He retrieved a cafetière and a bag of ground coffee from the cupboard above the kettle, and sliced open the seal. ‘If I was going to make proper coffee—the way I drink it—I’d use a briki.’ It must have shown on her face that she didn’t understand, because he said, ‘It’s a Greek coffee-pot—you use it straight on the stove.’

He’d already removed his jacket and hung it on the newel post, but now he stripped off his sweater to reveal a white V-necked T-shirt. One that clung in all the right places.

He’d looked hot in a suit. Gorgeous in that leather jacket and sweater. But now, in jeans and that white T-shirt, he was completely edible.

Madison only just stopped herself touching him.

But no way could she keep her fleece on. She was melting as it was. ‘It is OK if I put my fleece on top of your jacket?’

‘Sure. Now, let’s see.’ He was rummaging in the fridge and stacking a pile of ingredients on the worktops. ‘Anything you don’t eat or you’re allergic to?’

‘I like all food.’ As long as she didn’t have to cook it.

‘Good. So we’ll start with toasted pitta and hummus, then chicken and salad.’ He handed her a bottle of milk. ‘No sugar for me, please.’

It felt oddly domestic, making coffee for them both while he chopped salad. She’d never done this with Harry. Then again, she and Harry had hardly ever been at home together. They’d nearly always eaten out, neither of them being particularly fond of cooking. ‘Anything else I can do to help?’ she asked when she’d filled their mugs, added milk and returned the bottle to the fridge.

‘You can lay the table in the dining room, if you like. The cutlery’s in the top drawer and plates are in the cupboard next to the kettle.’ Meanwhile, he was whisking lemon juice and olive oil and fresh herbs in a bowl as if he were a born chef.

She collected the cutlery and went through to the dining room. There was a small dining table with four chairs, and a computer table with a desk lamp and laptop; next to it was a bookcase, stuffed with textbooks she recognised and other books that were printed in Greek and could have been anything from medicine to poetry. There were more photographs on the mantelpiece and a stunning watercolour of a Mediterranean seascape.

She’d just finished laying the table and was about to take a closer look at the photographs when Theo walked in, carrying a plate with hot pitta bread and a bowl of hummus.

‘Lunch. And I’m really ready for this. Must be the fresh air.’ He gave her another of those knee-buckling smiles.

The hummus was good—to the point where she suspected it probably hadn’t been bought from the deli counter of the local supermarket. And when he brought in the next course—a salad of cucumber, tomatoes, olives, red peppers and salty feta cheese, to go with chicken he’d marinated briefly in that dressing before grilling it—she knew for sure that he’d made it himself.

Theo Petrakis was simply gorgeous. Body, mind and heart—she’d seen him in action in the department enough to know he was kind and clever. And he was a great cook to boot.

If she wasn’t careful, she could really fall for him.

‘That was fabulous,’ she said when they’d finished. ‘You’re an excellent cook.’

‘That wasn’t cooking,’ he said. ‘That was throwing stuff together from the fridge.’ He held her gaze, his dark eyes flecked with green and gold and grey. ‘One evening I’ll cook you a proper Greek meal, if you like.’

Oh, she’d like. ‘Thank you.’

And again her heart felt as if it had done one of those odd little flips. She decided to take refuge in a safer topic: work. ‘So where did you train?’ she asked.

‘With a surname like Petrakis, where do you think?’ he teased.

Greece? ‘Your English is perfect and you barely have an accent.’ Just enough to be exotic. Sexy as hell. ‘And England’s a pretty multicultural place. So I’m not going to presume to guess.’

‘I trained in Greece,’ he said. ‘But I came to England five years ago. I’ve been working in the Midlands.’

‘Job enrichment?’ she guessed.

He shrugged. ‘My grandparents are English. I wanted to spend some time getting to know them.’

‘You didn’t see them much of them when you were growing up?’

‘No.’

Something in his tone warned her that this was a sore spot, something to be left alone.

‘What about you?’ he asked.

‘I trained in London, but my family’s from Suffolk. My cousin Katrina lives a couple of doors down from me, so if we’re on the same shift I see her quite a bit out of work.’

‘Is she a doctor too?’

Madison nodded. ‘She’s in paediatrics. And she’s brilliant.’ She smiled. ‘She’s practically my sister, seeing as we grew up together. Our dads have a family business and our mums are best friends.’ She paused. ‘How about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

‘Three younger sisters and a brother.’ He went over to the mantelpiece and took a photograph down to show her. ‘This is Sophronia—she’s the next one down from me. Melina’s next, then Thalia, and this is Stefanos.’

She could definitely see the family resemblance, though all had darker eyes than Theo. ‘Are any of them doctors?’ she asked.

‘Just me,’ he said. ‘Sophronia was trying to be a stay-at-home mum, but she missed her job too much.’ He smiled. ‘And she’s very, very good at PR. So she’s gone back part time. Melina’s a chef, Thalia’s an interior designer, and Stefanos is in his last year of an economics degree.’ He replaced the photograph on the mantelpiece.

On impulse, she joined him there. ‘And who are they?’ she asked, pointing to another photograph.

‘Sophie’s children—my niece Arianna and my nephew Petros.’

It was a candid shot, clearly taken by someone they knew rather than a posed professional picture, and the smiles on their faces were infectious. ‘They’re gorgeous,’ she said, meaning it.

He was standing close enough for their arms to touch, and a shiver went through her at the feel of his skin against hers. Lord. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been aware of someone in this way. Maybe not since Harry.

He must have felt the shiver, because he turned to face her. ‘They are,’ he said softly. Gently, he touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘So what are we going to do about this, Maddie?’

‘About what?’

It was a complete fib, and she knew he knew it. He meant about them. About the weird pull between them.

‘That night at the ball…I did this.’ He lifted her right hand and skimmed her inner wrist with his mouth. ‘And then I wanted to kiss you here.’ He kissed the soft skin of her inner elbow. ‘And here.’ He kissed the curve of her shoulder, bare except for the spaghetti strap of her top. ‘And…’

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, offering him her throat. His mouth brushed against it, and heat sprang up wherever his lips touched her.

And when his mouth finally connected with hers, her knees went weak. His mouth was soft and sweet and persuasive, and she couldn’t help sliding her hands round his neck, opening her mouth under his to let him deepen the kiss.

Time seemed to stop, and all she was aware of was Theo. The strength of his body against hers, the warmth of his mouth, the seductive flicker of his tongue against hers. She couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone this much before, even Harry.

Harry.

That was where everything had gone wrong last time.

Too much, too fast.

And an almighty mess at the end.

When he broke the kiss, she opened her eyes. ‘Theo. This shouldn’t be happening,’ she whispered.

He took one step away. ‘Signomi. I apologise.’

It would be sensible to accept his apology and stop this right now. Except she couldn’t. The need was too strong. ‘Theo, I… That wasn’t quite what I meant.’

‘No, you were right in the first place, Maddie. We shouldn’t do this.’ He dragged a hand through his hair.

It only made things worse because, ever so slightly rumpled, he looked sexier than ever and she wanted him even more. ‘I think my blood pressure’s just gone up ten points,’ she said.

‘Mine, too.’ He shook his head in apparent exasperation. ‘This is crazy. Apart from the fact that I’m only here for six months and dating colleagues is usually a bad idea, I’m not in a position to offer you anything more than an affair. And that’s…’ He grimaced. ‘Well, it’s not particularly honourable, is it?’

She didn’t quite understand. ‘What’s so dishonourable about seeing each other?’

‘Because,’ he said softly, ‘usually when you’re over thirty, when you start seeing someone you’re thinking about settling down. So a relationship doesn’t mean just having fun—it means getting to know each other, seeing if you suit each other, seeing if you could be happy growing old together.’

‘That makes it sound as if everyone of our age is on the lookout for a life partner,’ Madison said dryly.

‘So are you saying you don’t want to settle down?’

‘No. When I meet the right person then I’ll want to settle down,’ she admitted. ‘I want what my parents have—what Katrina’s parents have, too. A good, strong marriage. A relationship that will last.’ Not like her previous marriage, which had collapsed within six months. She paused. ‘But how do you know when you meet the right person?’

He spread his hands. ‘No idea. But I’m not looking.’

The word ‘dishonourable’ filtered back into her head. ‘You’re already involved elsewhere—your partner’s back in the Midlands or in Greece?’

‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me on the balloon.’

Divorced, then, she guessed. ‘She hurt you that badly?’ Madison asked. She could sympathise with that—Harry had left her feeling burned and with major trust issues. If Theo had been involved with the female equivalent of Harry, it was hardly surprising that he was equally wary of relationships.

‘It’s nothing to do with an ex.’

She blinked. ‘Perhaps I’m being stupid, here, but if you’re not involved with anyone else, what’s the problem?’

‘I can’t offer you a future, Maddie. I don’t want to get married and have children. So seeing me would stop you meeting someone else, someone who would be able to give you what you want.’

‘And what do you think I want?’

‘You’ve already told me—you want a relationship that lasts. Marriage. And, given the look on your face when I showed you the photographs of my niece and nephew, I’d say you want children as well.’

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