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Oh, help. She needed some air. Time to think about how she was going to get out of this.
Except it was too late, because Lewis was standing beside her.
‘Move to me, I think, Dr Smith,’ he said softly, brandishing the certificate Marina had got her to sign for the auction—the promise of a date.
‘Five hundred pounds is a lot of money. Thank you for supporting the auction.’ She lifted her chin. ‘You get a date, but don’t expect me to end up in your bed.’
He laughed. ‘What makes you think that’s what I had in mind?’
His reputation. Colour rushed into her face. ‘So why did you buy a date with me, Dr Gallagher?’ Because he knew who she was?
He shrugged. ‘Because you said no when I asked you.’
Ah. Because she’d challenged his ego. She relaxed. Just a little bit.
He held her gaze. ‘And now you don’t have an excuse to say no.’
‘Maybe I just don’t want to go out with a party boy.’ She’d recognised his type the first time she’d met him. Handsome, wonderful social skills—and shallow as a puddle.
Not her type.
At all.
Lewis gave her the most charming, heart-melting smile she’d ever seen in her life. She’d just bet he practised it in front of a mirror.
‘Maybe I’m not the party boy you think I am,’ he said. ‘Want to know where we’re going?’
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she said. And she almost winced at how haughty and snooty she sounded. This was ridiculous. She didn’t behave like a spoiled diva. That wasn’t who she was. Abigail Smith was a quiet and hard-working doctor who just got on with whatever needed to be done.
Yet Lewis Gallagher made her feel like a brat, wanting to throw a tantrum and stamp her feet when she didn’t get her own way. And she couldn’t understand why on earth he was affecting her like this.
‘Newsflash for you, princess. I bought a date with you. So you don’t get to decide where we’re going.’
Shut up, Abigail. Don’t answer him. Don’t let him provoke you. Except her mouth wasn’t listening. ‘Correction. You bought a date with me. Which means I organise it and I pick up the bill.’
‘Nope. It means you get to go out with me on Sunday morning.’
She was about to protest that she couldn’t, because she was working, when he added, ‘And you’re off duty on Sunday morning. I checked.’
She was trapped.
And maybe the fear showed in her eyes because his voice softened. ‘It’s only a date, Abby.’
Abby? Nobody called her that. Not even her father.
Well, especially not her father. He used her given name. The one she made sure nobody at work knew about because then it would be too easy to connect her with her father. Not that she didn’t love him—Keith Brydon was the most important person in the world to her. And she was incredibly proud of him. She just wanted to be seen for who she was, not dismissed as an attention-grabbing celeb’s daughter riding on her famous parent’s coat-tails.
Before she could protest, Lewis continued, ‘We’re just going somewhere and spending a bit of time together. All we’re doing is getting to know each other a little. But, just so we’re very clear on this, I’m not expecting you to sleep with me. Or even,’ he added, ‘to kiss me.’
‘Right.’ Oh, great. And now her voice had to croak, making it sound as if she wanted him to kiss her. How pathetic was that?
‘Wear jeans,’ he said. ‘And sensible shoes.’
‘Do I look like the sort of person who clip-clops around in high heels she can barely walk in?’ And then she clapped a hand to her mouth. Oh, no. She hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘No. But I think you could surprise me, Abby.’
She shivered. Oh, the pictures that put in her head. ‘I suppose now you’re going to say something cheesy about finding out if I have a temper to go with my red hair.’
‘It’s a cliché and I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said. ‘Though, on this evening’s showing, I think you do.’
And, damn him, his eyes were twinkling. She almost, almost laughed.
‘You need sensible shoes,’ he said again. ‘Trainers would be really good. Oh, and wear your hair tied back.’
That was a given. She always wore her hair tied back. ‘So what are we doing?’ Despite herself, she was curious.
‘You’ll find out on Sunday. I’ll pick you up at your place.’
She shook her head. ‘There’s no need. I could meet you there.’
‘Ah, but you don’t know where we’re going.’
Irritating man. She forced herself to sound super-sweet. ‘You could tell me.’
‘True. But it’d be a waste of resources if we took two cars.’
‘Then I’ll drive.’ Maybe needling him a little would make sure he agreed to it. ‘Unless you’re scared of letting a woman drive you?’
‘No.’ He laughed. ‘Well, there’s one exception. But she’d scare anyone.’
Ex-girlfriend? she wondered. The one that got away?
Not that it was any of her business. And not that she was interested. Because she didn’t want to date Lewis Gallagher. She was only doing this because she’d made a promise to raise funds for the department.
‘So are you going to make a fuss about it, or will you allow me to drive rather than direct you?’
Put like that, she didn’t have much choice. She gave in. ‘OK. You can drive.’
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at nine. Your address?’
If she didn’t tell him, she was pretty sure he had the resources to find out. So she told him.
‘Great. See you on Sunday.’ And he was gone.
Making quite sure he had the last word, she noticed.
Abigail was really grateful for the fact that her shift on Saturday was immensely busy, with lots of people limping in with sports injuries and the like. The fact that she barely had a second to breathe also meant she didn’t have to talk; the hospital grapevine had been working overtime, so everyone knew Lewis had paid a ridiculous amount of money for a date with her—and she just knew that everyone was itching to ask questions. Why would a man who could date any woman he chose pay for a date with the girl nobody wanted to go out with?
This was crazy. She wasn’t his type. She wasn’t a party girl or one of the women who sighed over him and thought she could reform him. And, actually, she wanted to know the real answer to that question, too. Why on earth had he paid so much money for a date with her? Was his ego really so huge that he hadn’t been able to stand someone turning him down?
Though that was a bit unfair. It didn’t fit in with the man she’d seen taking time to reassure a frightened child with a broken wrist earlier in the week. Or the doctor who, instead of going to get something to eat during his lunch break, had spent the time talking to the elderly man who was in for observation with stomach pains but clearly didn’t have anyone to come and wait with him. Or the man who’d got a terrified yet defiant teenage girl to open up to him and tell him exactly which tablets she’d taken then had sat holding her hand and talking to her the entire way through the stomach pump that Abigail had administered.
Lewis was good with people. He gave them time. As a doctor, he was one of the best she’d ever worked with.
And Abigail had to admit that Lewis Gallagher was also very easy on the eye. His dark hair was cut a bit too short for her liking, but his slate-blue eyes were beautiful. And his mouth could make her feel hot all over if she allowed herself to think about it. Not to mention the dimple in his cheek when he smiled.
But she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he was wasting his time. She’d explain; she’d give him back the money he’d paid for the date, and then hopefully that would be the end of it.
Except on Sunday he turned up at her front door with a bunch of sweet-smelling white stocks. Not a flashy, over-the-top bouquet with ribbons and cellophane and glitter, but a simple bunch of summer flowers wrapped in pretty paper. The kind of thing she’d buy herself as a treat. And it disarmed her completely.
‘For you,’ he said, and presented the flowers to her.
‘Thank you. They’re lovely.’ She couldn’t help breathing in their scent, enjoying it. And she’d have to put the flowers in water right now or they’d droop beyond rescue. It would be rude to leave him outside while she sorted out a vase.
But this was Lewis Gallagher. In the white shirt and formal trousers he wore with a white coat at work he looked professional and she could view him as just another colleague. In faded jeans and a black T-shirt he looked younger. Approachable. Touchable.
How had she ever thought she could handle this? Her social skills were rubbish. They always had been. Maybe if she hadn’t grown up in an all-male environment… She pushed the thought away. This wasn’t about her mother—or, rather, her lack of one. She was thirty years old and she was perfectly capable of dealing with this on her own.
‘Come in,’ she mumbled awkwardly.
She put the flowers in water, then buried her nose in them and breathed in the scent again. ‘These are glorious.’
‘I’m glad you like them,’ he said.
‘I wasn’t expecting you to bring me flowers.’
‘I believe it’s official first date behaviour.’
First of three, according to the grapevine. ‘So today you’re on your best behaviour, next time you’re going to be a bad boy, and after the third date you dump me?’ She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll pass.’
‘That’s a bit unfair. You don’t know me.’
True, but she wasn’t going to let him guilt-trip her into agreeing to anything. ‘I know your reputation.’
‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’ He held her gaze. ‘Just as I don’t believe everything I hear about you, princess. Even if you are starchy and standoffish at work.’
The ice princess. Touché. ‘So why did you place that bid?’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘you intrigue me.’
‘And because I turned you down.’
‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s nothing to do with ego.’
‘No?’ she scoffed.
‘No. It’s because I was out of ideas on how to persuade you into joining in with the team outside work.’
So this wasn’t actually a date? She found herself relaxing. ‘I take it this is a team thing today, then?’
‘No. It’s just you and me.’ He shrugged. ‘And a few strangers.’
‘What do you mean, strangers?’
He spread his hands and gave her a mischievous little-boy smile. ‘There’s only one way to find out what we’re doing. Let’s go.’
She wasn’t that surprised to discover that his car was a convertible.
‘Very flashy,’ she said dryly. Though she supposed that navy blue was a tad more sophisticated than red.
‘Very comfortable, actually,’ he corrected her, unlocking the car and pressing a button to take the roof down.
The seats were soft, white leather. This should be clichéd and cheesy and make her want to sneer at him.
But he had a point, she discovered as she climbed in. The car was comfortable. And driving in the sunshine with the roof down and the wind in her hair was a real treat. She hadn’t done anything like this in ages; her own car was sensible, economical and easy to park, rather than a carefree convertible.
‘So where are we going?’ she asked.
‘About three-quarters of an hour away.’
He really wasn’t going to be drawn, was he?
‘Feel free to choose the music,’ he said.
The first radio station she tried was dance music—not her cup of tea at all. The second was playing one of her dad’s songs; she left the station playing, and couldn’t help humming along to the song.
Lewis smiled at her. ‘I had you pegged as listening only to highbrow stuff. Classical music. Like those tickets you bid on.’
He’d noticed that?
‘See, I told you that you could surprise me.’
‘So you don’t like this sort of stuff?’ Abigail had to remind herself not to jump to her dad’s defence.
‘Actually, I do. This sort of stuff is great on a play-list if you’re going out for a run. But I didn’t think you’d be a fan of Brydon.’
Their biggest. Not that she was going to tell Lewis that. Or why.
He didn’t press her to talk, and she found herself relaxing, enjoying the scenery.
Until he turned off the main road and she saw the sign.
‘Urban Jungle Adventure Centre.’ And it wasn’t just the name. It was the photographs on the hoarding of what people were doing at the centre. ‘We’re going zip-lining?’
‘It’s one of the biggest rushes you can get.’ He gave her a sidelong look as he parked the car. ‘With your clothes on, that is.’
She felt the colour stain her face. ‘Are you determined to embarrass me?’
