Alex yawned. ‘Don’t you start. I’ve just had Mavis reading my press cuttings.’

‘Well, there are rather a lot of them,’ Tina pointed out mildly, and he gave a careless shrug.

‘Is it my fault if the press have nothing better to do than follow me around? Now, give me a break, Tina. I’ve been awake for the best part of thirty-six hours with this RTA. I don’t need a lecture.’

He strolled to his office to catch up on some paperwork and stayed there, trying not to fall asleep at his desk until one of the nurses called him to tell him that Mavis was back.

He removed the X-rays from the packet and examined them one by one.

‘Well, that could be worse. See this?’ He tapped on the X-ray with his pen. ‘You’ve got a lateral malleolar fracture but fortunately it’s undisplaced.’

‘Why fortunately?’

‘Because you don’t need an operation.’ Alex flicked off the light-box. ‘You need a below-knee plaster, some pain-killers and then you need to keep this leg elevated. I’m going to refer you to the orthopaedic surgeons for follow-up. You’ll like them. They’re a good-looking bunch. Be gentle with them.’

Mavis beamed. ‘And will I see you again?’

‘Not unless you break something else,’ Alex said, scribbling a referral letter while he talked. ‘Now, how are you going to manage at home with that leg in plaster?’

‘Are you offering to come and bath me?’

Alex laughed. ‘You’re wicked, Mavis. What I had in mind was something rather more conventional, like the district nurse or perhaps a care assistant for a short time until you’re fully mobile again.’

Mavis pulled a face. ‘How boring.’

‘But practical. I’ll scribble a letter to your GP. He needs to check out your bones, if he hasn’t already done so.’

He made the necessary arrangements, picked up his car keys and his jacket from his office and strolled towards his car.

It had been a rough ten days and he was starting to feel the strain. Thank goodness there was only one more day to go before the weekend. He was going to spend the whole time sleeping and surfing.

No responsibilities.

* * *

He wasn’t home.

Jenny tried the bell one more time and then stepped back and looked at the house. It wasn’t what she’d expected. She knew that Alex Westerling was wealthy beyond her wildest imaginings and she’d assumed that his house would reflect his flashy lifestyle. But it didn’t seem to. From the outside it looked like an ordinary fisherman’s cottage.

She was trying to work out what that said about him when she heard the growl of a powerful engine approaching.

Every muscle in her body tensed and her heart took off at an indecent pace.

All her instincts warned her that it was him and the minute the low black sports car roared into view, she knew she was right.

If the house had been a surprise then the car was everything she’d expected and more. A sleek, blatant declaration of masculine self-indulgence that reflected everything she’d heard about his playboy tastes. Only someone as superficial as him would spend so much money on a lump of metal, she reflected as he turned into the drive and came to a smooth stop.