Playing the Playboy's Sweetheart

‘Hugh …’ Emily said as she got in.

‘’Night, Emily.’ He closed the door.

All the way home Emily kicked herself. She couldn’t have handled that more badly if she had tried but the near kiss had actually caused her to panic.

Get over yourself.

Maybe it was time to, Emily thought. Perhaps she could apologise properly on Monday.

Maybe even explain how she felt?

That she was actually terrified to get close to anyone.

She paid the taxi driver and headed to her home, and for the first time her resolution wavered, the cloak of self-preservation almost slid off, for she wanted the feelings Hugh triggered and yet she knew, from his undeniable track record, that soon they’d be done.

Time to take a risk, Emily.

In fact, it was long overdue that she did.

She was just pulling him up on her computer, just trying to convince herself to wait till tomorrow to attempt contact because she’d made enough of a mess of things tonight already.

Then she saw that she had a message.

From her dad.

Emily, I tried to call.

I’ve got some good news, two bits of good news actually.

Emily read the message, her eyes filling with tears as she heard that her dad was marrying again and soon, because—guess what—Cathy was pregnant!

A little brother or sister for you, her dad tossed in, and she was very glad she’d missed his call because she felt like screaming.

Would it be like it had been with the twins all over again?

She actually ached to see them but it wasn’t just the blood relations that hurt. There had been so many girlfriends and along with them their children, and it was much the same with her mum.

‘I don’t want to go to your wedding.’ Emily said it out loud as she stared at the screen, though she knew she’d do the right thing and be there, more in the hope of seeing the twins, though.

If Donna let them attend.

That was why she was like this, Emily reminded herself. That was why she let no one in.

She checked her reminders. It was her half-sister Abby’s birthday tomorrow and though she had sent a gift in the post Emily posted a message on her mum’s timeline.

She flicked through some images; saw Abby smiling with her own dad’s children from a previous relationship.

There wasn’t enough wood in a forest to map Emily’s family tree.

It was always the one, her parents told her when they met the latest love of their life.

This time they were sure.

Until it was over.

Emily allowed herself one look at the smiling image of Hugh on her screen and then clicked off.

Hugh was a sure-fire recipe for disaster.

She was right to refuse herself a taste.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6b0fafcc-55d6-536e-8724-9dd157f64e6c)

FOR ONCE HUGH wasn’t looking forward to Monday.

And it wasn’t just Emily’s revelation that had soured the weekend!

The accident and emergency do had been a little wild and Hugh had again had to put out an increasingly regular fire named Gina.

He’d gone round yesterday to speak to her and she’d done her best to convince him it had just been a one-off, that she hadn’t been the only one who’d had too much to drink.

True.

And, yes, it had been her thirtieth birthday after all.

Yet Hugh wasn’t so sure it was just the drinking that was the problem.

Three years ago when he’d voiced his concerns first to Alex and then to Mr Eccleston, the head of Anaesthetics, he had been taken seriously. Gina had actually cried on him about the unknown person who had threatened her career.

It had all come to nothing and it had eaten Hugh up since then that possibly he had jumped the gun because Gina really was an amazing doctor and she had proved it over and over.

Just lately, though, Hugh felt that things were sliding again.

Driving to work, he took a call from his sister. ‘Is everything okay?’ Hugh instantly checked.

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’ Kate answered.

‘It’s not even seven a.m.’

‘Well, I knew you’d be on your way to work and I don’t like to trouble you there.’

‘You can call me any time, Kate.’

‘Hugh, can you take your social-worker voice off? Just because I’ve had a baby it doesn’t mean that there has to be a problem.’

Easy for you to say, Hugh thought, pulling up at traffic lights. Three years ago Hugh had taken Emily’s advice and practically frogmarched Kate to her doctor, and still, all these years on, what had happened in Kate’s dark teenage years ate at him.

‘So, what are you calling for?’ Hugh asked instead.