Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  ‘All right.’

  ‘I love you. And Dad.’

  ‘Is the baron coming with you?’

  ‘No, he is not.’

  ‘I see.’ Fran’s voice was slightly clipped.

  Sophie sighed. ‘Mum, it’s not what you think. I’m proud of you and Dad. You’ve been the best parents anyone could ever ask for. I’m not asking him to come with me because nothing is going on between us. Believe me. I’ll tell you everything tonight, I promise.’

  ‘Ring me when you leave the hospital. I’ll have dinner ready for when you get here.’

  Despite her misery, Sophie smiled. Her mother’s cure for everything: a good meal and a shoulder to cry on. And, boy, did Sophie need a shoulder to cry on right now.

  Next step, Charlie. He wasn’t in yet, and his secretary gave Sophie a distinctly speculative look.

  Sophie decided to brazen it out. ‘Could you ask him to page me in Theatre, please, when he comes in? It’s urgent.’

  ‘I see,’ Marion commented, in a tone that said, Are you going to have sex with him in the nearest linen cupboard then?

  Sophie sighed. ‘Look, I realise half the hospital must have seen that magazine. But it’s not how it looks. I need to see Charlie because I don’t know how to deal with all this stuff, and he probably does. I’d appreciate if you could tell anyone who asks that I am not sleeping with Charlie Radley. He’s not my type.’

  ‘She’s absolutely right,’ a deep voice said behind her.

  Oh, great. He would have to come in and overhear that last bit, wouldn’t he? Things were bad enough between them without her insulting him as well. Sophie took a deep breath, and turned to face him. ‘May I speak with you for a moment, please? In private?’

  He gestured to his office. She walked in; he followed her and closed the door.

  She’d heard the expression ‘you could have cut the air with a knife’, but this was the first time she’d ever experienced the feeling. Her skin felt too tight and it was hard to breathe.

  ‘So. What can I do for you, Dr Harrison?’ he asked coolly.

  Kiss me better, a voice said in her head, and she felt her face heat. ‘It’s … Look. I’m sorry. About everything.’

  Charlie supposed that was as near to an apology as he was going to get. Not that he wanted her to grovel. What he wanted was for her to get out of his office before he made a fool of himself and asked her to give him a chance, let him into her life.

  She handed him a magazine. ‘We have a problem. Page seven.’

  When he reached the photographs and glanced through the text, he was very, very glad he’d kept himself in control. ‘I see.’

  She swallowed. ‘Everyone’s talking about us. The whole hospital. Everybody knows. ‘

  ‘No, they don’t. They just think they do.’

  ‘How can you be so calm about it?’

  ‘Because,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ve had to live with things like this for years.’

  ‘It’s horrible. There are journalists calling.’

  He shrugged. ‘Just doing their job. Following up a lead.’

  ‘But they made all this stuff up. And they followed me home.’

  There was the tiniest wobble in her voice: no doubt the thought of someone following her was bringing back memories of when someone else had followed her home.

  Three of them.

  He’d deal with this for her—but only because she was part of his staff. It had nothing to do with how he felt about her. He didn’t feel anything about Sophie Harrison. Not one damn thing. Provided he didn’t look into her eyes, or start thinking about how her hair had looked spread across his pillow, or remember how soft her skin felt. ‘I’ll sort it out. Refer all calls here to me,’ he said coolly. ‘At home, you might want to use an answering-machine for a while to screen your calls. It’ll all die down in a few days when the next story breaks. In the meantime, it’s a pain, but there’s nothing you can do except ride it out.’

  She nodded.

  ‘And I’ll speak to the department,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry. About …’ She took a deep breath. ‘About Sunday morning.’

  Me, too. Though he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Keeping away from her was much, much safer. He could deal with being lonely. He was used to that. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to get his heart broken again. Been there, done that—twice. Which only proved how stupid he’d been to fall in love with someone he barely knew. On impulse. Because of her glorious hair.

  Well, not just her hair. Those beautiful eyes. The way she made a room light up. The way she had time for her patients, time to explain things to relatives, time to stand up for a junior doctor who was being bullied, time to make someone she barely knew feel better. The way she worked, deft and sure and meticulous. The way she caught her lower lip between her teeth when she was thinking.

  And, heaven help him, he’d been stupid enough to fall in love with her. The force of the thought hit him as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He was in love with Sophie. A woman who couldn’t care less about him.

  How pathetic was that? He wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone who really, really wasn’t interested in him. She’d even referred to the photographs of them together as ‘a problem’—which made it very clear that she didn’t want to be associated with him.

  So he needed to fall out of love with her again.

  Somehow.

  ‘I’d better get to Theatre. I’ve got a full list.’

  He nodded. ‘Sure.’ He clicked into his email, expecting her to leave.

  ‘Charlie …’

  He glanced up. She looked utterly miserable. As if there was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t even know where to start.

  You and me both, he thought. But I’m not leaving myself open again. Not to you, not to anyone. He made his voice as cool and impersonal as he could. ‘Yes?’

  Defeat slunk into her face. ‘Nothing.’

  She probably thought he was the coldest, most callous bastard on the planet. Fine. Better that than knowing she’d put a crack through the centre of his heart. A crack that deepened every time he saw her.

  He worked through his list of messages, ignoring the ones from the press and listing the others in order of priority. Then, when he judged that Sophie was safely in Theatre, he headed for the ward and called everyone into the staffroom.

  ‘I believe most of you have heard rumours or seen the gossip rags,’ he said. ‘I’d just like to make it clear that the media will do anything for a great story. This isn’t what it looks like. I’m not going to go into details—whatever Sophie has said to me remains confidential—but I’d like the rumours to stop. Sophie Harrison is my colleague. I value her in the same way that I value every single one of you: as part of the surgical team. I’mnot sleeping with her or even going out with her. So I trust you’ll join me in squashing any gossip in the hospital.’

  There were several red faces, but a sharp glance from him had everybody nodding.

  ‘Thank you. If any journalists start asking you questions, refer them to me. I’ll deal with it. Now, I suggest we all get on with what we’re paid to do. And, if I do hear any rumours, I’m fully aware of the disciplinary procedures in this hospital.’

  Ignoring the look of surprise on people’s faces—it was probably the first time any of them had heard him in highhanded alpha male mode—he turned on his heel and stalked back to his office. Problem solved. He hoped.

  ‘Soph, stop playing with your sandwich and eat,’ Abby said.

  ‘I’m not playing with it,’ Sophie lied. She didn’t feel like eating. And everyone in the canteen was staring at her. She could feel their gazes burning into her skin.

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘I’m going to shave my hair off and wear dark glasses,’ Sophie muttered.

  ‘Then people really will stare at you. Soph, you know what the grapevine is like. Tomorrow morning someone will have knocked yo
u off top gossip spot. And Charlie made it very clear when he hauled everyone into the staffroom that nothing was going on between you. I think he’ll scalp anyone who even whispers a rumour. He, um, mentioned disciplinary procedures.’

  Because he hated the idea of his name being linked with hers. He’d been so cold to her this morning. As if a wall of ice was between them. It was obvious to Sophie that he really regretted what had happened between them. For him, it had been a moment’s weakness.

  She’d bared her soul to him, and he’d rejected her.

  ‘Sophie? You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?’ Abby asked.

  ‘No,’ Sophie admitted. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I said, I feel bad about teasing you.’

  ‘Why?’ Had Charlie told the ward what she’d told him in confidence?

  ‘Because—well, like I said, Charlie made it clear you just work together. I suppose it was a bit of wishful thinking. You’d be good together.’

  ‘We most definitely would not,’ Sophie said.

  Abby opened her mouth as if to argue, but closed it again when Sophie glared at her.

  ‘I’m going back to the ward,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Um.’ Abby bit her lip. ‘Sorry. I’ll come with you.’ She hurriedly finished her sandwich, and they left the canteen.

  Sophie was still aware of people staring at her. She wished they’d stop. And, even more, she wished that she’d never met Charlie Radley.

  Telling her parents the truth was even worse. Especially as she had to explain what had happened in Manchester all those years ago—although, thanks to Melanie, it was easier than it would have been before.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Sophie’s father asked.

  ‘Because you’d have made me pack everything up and come back home,’ Sophie said. ‘I wanted to finish my degree.’

  ‘I could have made them admit the truth,’ Sophie’s father said, narrowing his eyes and bunching his fists.

  ‘And ended up with a court case. Dad, it’s the past.’

  ‘Has this Charlie bloke laid a finger on you?’

  Yes, but only because I begged him to. Sophie’s face burned with embarrassment. ‘Dad, he’s a colleague. He’s been a perfect gentleman.’

  ‘So why were you sneaking out of his place on Sunday morning? Looking … well.’ His mouth thinned. ‘You know what you looked like.’

  Sophie squirmed in her seat. ‘Dad, I already told you that. I was upset, and he didn’t want me to go home on my own. I stayed at his place.’ Hopefully her father would think that meant ‘spare room’.

  ‘Leave her alone, Eddie,’ Fran said. ‘In fact, you can do the washing up while Sophie and I have a chat.’

  ‘Mum, there’s nothing else to tell you,’ Sophie said when her mother directed her to the sofa and placed a large glass of wine in her hands.

  ‘No? You’re my daughter, Sophie. You’ve hardly had a boyfriend since you were a student. You said it was because you were too busy at work, though now I know what the real reason was. But you spent the night at Charlie’s. So he means something to you, doesn’t he?’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘Forget it, Mum. How is it ever going to work? We’re from completely different backgrounds. He lives in the most expensive part of Hampstead and I live in the cheapest part. He’s got a title—he comes from a small, refined family. Ours is noisy and messy and huge.’

  At Fran’s lifted brow, Sophie added, ‘And I wouldn’t swap a thing. What I’m saying is we move in different social circles. I wouldn’t be comfortable with his lot, and he isn’t used to our ways.’

  ‘And have either of you tried?’

  Sophie took a swig of wine. ‘I met his sister. She’s all right.’

  ‘And you don’t think he’d get on with us?’

  ‘Mum, everyone gets on well with you.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Dad might be a bit funny towards him, though.’

  ‘Because you’re his little girl and he wants to protect you.’ Fran hugged her. ‘Except we failed you when you needed us. And your dad feels bad about that. So do I.’

  Sophie shook her head. ‘You didn’t fail me because I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘We should have known.’

  ‘You’re not a mind-reader.’

  Fran pounced. ‘And neither are you. Why don’t you give him a chance?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t play games with me, love. I’m your mother. You know who I mean. Charlie.’

  Sophie willed her bottom lip not to wobble. ‘Because I don’t think he wants me.’

  ‘Right. So the man sees you’re upset. What does he do—ignore you? No, he takes you somewhere quiet, feeds you and gives you a place to stay. He cares all right.’ Fran gave her a searching look. ‘And I think I can guess what you didn’t say in front of your father.’

  ‘I didn’t have sex with him!’ Sophie said frantically.

  Fran grinned. ‘You’re an adult, Soph. He’s a nice-looking bloke. And a friendly hug doesn’t always stay that way.’

  Sophie buried her face in her hands. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You’re my mother!’

  ‘Who else are you going to talk to about it, love?’

  She had a point. Sophie sighed. ‘All right, I admit I stayed the night, but we didn’t have sex. It didn’t mean anything.’

  ‘No? He’s a baron, Sophie. He has the papers after him all the time. Would he really take you to his home—his private sanctuary—if you didn’t mean anything to him?’ Fran asked.

  Sophie dropped her hands and looked at her mother. ‘Mum, you’re just being a romantic. This isn’t going to have a fairytale ending. It’s just going to be the most unholy mess. For weeks and weeks and weeks. I might even have to get another job.’

  ‘Of course you won’t. Things will calm down—by next Monday the hospital grapevine will be full of what someone else did on Saturday night. But Charlie took you back to his place. Think about what that really means,’ Fran advised.

  Sophie stared into her glass. ‘There’s something else. I made a total fool of myself, Mum. I cried all over him and he was so nice about it. Then I panicked the next morning when I woke up. I—Oh, God.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I left without saying a word to him.’

  ‘Oh, Sophie. I never thought you’d be a coward.’

  Sophie groaned and buried her face in her hands. ‘I know. I feel terrible about it. But I just didn’t know what to say to him. And it’s too late now.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Fran waited a beat until Sophie uncovered her face again. ‘He’s The One, isn’t he?’

  Yes. Sophie tried to affect nonchalance. ‘How would I know?’ she asked, shrugging one shoulder.

  ‘You just do, deep in your bones,’ Fran said softly. ‘He’s The One. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone back to his place with him. You’d have made some excuse—at the very most, you’d have suggested a curry in a very crowded restaurant and made sure you got a taxi back to your place on your own afterwards.’

  Which was exactly what she should have done. But she hadn’t. So was her mother right? Was Charlie The One? Was this why she felt so bad about it—why she couldn’t get him out of her head?

  ‘How did you know Dad was The One?’ Sophie asked.

  Fran smiled. ‘I didn’t even like him at first. I liked his friend. But his friend went off with my best friend, and we were stuck with each other. Our first date was a disaster. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And I knew, the next time I saw him. I just knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about Charlie,’ Sophie admitted quietly. ‘But when I spoke to him today … Mum, he was so cold.’

  ‘Sounds to me like he was trying to protect himself,’ Fran said. ‘You must have hurt him when you didn’t trust him enough to face him the next morning and talk about it.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Sophie said dryly. ‘I feel bad enough as it is, witho
ut you piling on the guilt.’

  ‘Then talk to him. You can’t read each other’s minds.’

  ‘It’s awkward.’

  ‘Think about it,’ Fran advised. ‘If he’s The One, nobody else is ever going to match up to him. Which gives you—ooh, I’d say, about half a century of being lonely. What’s that, compared to a few minutes of awkwardness?’

  Bleak, Sophie thought. Endlessly bleak.

  ‘Talk to him,’ Fran said again. ‘Or you’ll regret it. For the rest of your life.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘CHARLIE made the gossip rags again this week, I see,’ Seb said, pouring coffee into two mugs and handing one to his sister. ‘Told you she was a gold-digger.’

  Vicky rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such a cynic. And she’s not a gold-digger.’

  Seb snorted. ‘Come on. Look at the pictures. And she isn’t even that pretty.’

  ‘If you weren’t my brother,’ Vicky said, ‘I’d be sticking pins in you. I’ve met her, remember? And I don’t see people through Charlie’s rose-tinted glasses or your jaundiced yellow ones. She’s OK.’

  Seb’s expression said what he thought of that one.

  ‘And those photos didn’t do her justice.’

  Seb continued to look sceptical.

  ‘Don’t be so shallow. Looks aren’t everything,’ she berated him.

  ‘No?’ Seb grinned. ‘You’ve led a sheltered life, Vic.’

  Vicky scowled at him. ‘If she wasn’t in love with our brother, I’d be very tempted to set her up with you—so you could meet your match.’

  ‘The woman who can match me doesn’t exist,’ Seb said with a shrug. ‘Though I admit I’m having fun looking.’

  ‘Oh, please. Spare me the details. You’re horrible to women, Seb.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m a realist. They know the score right from the start. I don’t make any promises—so I don’t break them either. And you love me anyway.’ He opened a packet of chocolate biscuits and handed it to her, then dropped his teasing manner and looked serious. ‘Are you sure she’s in love with him, Vic?’

  Vicky nodded. ‘He matters. She doesn’t want him to, but he matters. You’d have seen that if you’d looked at those pictures properly.’