"JUST why," Alyssa asked the emergency department charge
nurse, "would I want to win a night out with Sebastian
Radley?"
"The real question is, why wouldn't you? Hmm, I think
there's something wrong here." Tracey took Alyssa's hand
and checked her pulse while looking at her watch. "Well,
you're definitely alive, and your pulse is normal." She
made a show of taking Alyssa's temperature. "No, that's
normal, too — so it can't be delirium."
"Oh, stop it." But Alyssa couldn't help laughing. "How
about temporary insanity?" Tracey suggested. More like
Alyssa would be insane to want to go out with Seb. "No.
But I'll give you a donation for the fundraiser any-
way.'Alyssa turned the key in her locker, fished out her
purse, and took out some money. "Here. It's for a good
cause."
Tracey raised an eyebrow. "That's enough for three
tickets." Alyssa shook her head. "I don't want any,
thanks." 'But, Alyssa, why not? I mean, the whole reason
we're sell- ing tickets is to give everyone an equal
chance of winning. If we'd done it as an auction, only the
super-rich would be able to keep up in the bidding."
Alyssa understood that. But there was one big flaw in
Tracey's plan. "Maybe some women don't want to win a night
out with Seb." Alyssa certainly didn't.
"Why? He's charming, he's witty, he's TDH."
Alyssa looked blankly at Tracey.
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Tall, dark and handsome.
Honestly. Don't you read the Lonely Hearts columns?"
"I'm not that desperate," Alyssa said dryly.
Tracey winced. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, we all
look through them and wonder and... Oh, forget it." She
waved a hand dismissively. "I know I'm digging myself into
a deeper hole here. Seriously, a night out with Seb is
worth winning. He knows how to show a woman a good time."
"Only because he's had plenty of practice." Alyssa raised
an eyebrow. "In the six months he's been at the Docklands
Memorial, he must have dated every single woman in the
hospital under the age of thirty-five."
"Maybe he's just looking for the right one,'Tracey
suggested. "Maybe he's the male equivalent of a right
tart.'And Alyssa definitely wasn't interested in someone
like him. She'd al- ready learned that lesson the hard
way, with Scott Cooper.
Tracey whistled. "You really don't like him, do you?" 'As
a doctor, he's fine." Thorough, decisive, charming enough
to reassure their patients yet at the same time man- aging
to remain detached. Alyssa admired that. It was the way
she worked, too. "But as a date...no, thanks. He's not my
type."
"So what is your type, Alyssa?" Tracey asked. "I can't re-
member you ever going on a date in the three years you've
worked here."
Alyssa damped down the stream of impulses — to tell Tracey
to mind her own business, to claim that she was gay, to
say that she was looking for someone special and would
know when she met the right one... Ah, it wasn't fair to
take out her bad mood on the charge nurse. Tracey meant
well. But the truth was embarrassing, and Alyssa didn't
want any gos- sip about herself doing the rounds. Nobody
at the Docklands Memorial Hospital knew about the mistake
she'd made, and she intended to keep it that way.
And she didn't repeat her mistakes. Ever. Sebastian Radley
might be charming, handsome and witty — and, yes, she'd
admit that he was the sexiest man she'd ever met, with
those slate-blue eyes and a mouth that was just designed
for sin — but he was a walking disaster where
relationships were concerned. Which made him a man to be
avoided in her book.
"Hey, I'm a busy medic. I don't have time to date,'Alyssa
said lightly. She took a note from her purse. "Here you
go. More hush money. Is that enough to stop you nagging
me?"
"Hmm," Tracey said, and smiled. "Thanks for supporting the
fundraiser, anyway."
And as Alyssa walked away, Tracey filled the registrar's
name neatly in on three ticket stubs. Alyssa Ward. Their
reg- istrar worked far too hard, in Tracey's opinion, and
needed to let her hair down.And Seb was just the man to
help her do that.
Their consultant, on the other hand, needed to be a bit
more serious, to realise that life wasn't just party after
party. And Alyssa was just the woman to help him see that.
In fact, Tracey thought, this fundraiser could fix a few
problems. All she had to do now was have a little chat
with Vicky Radley, Seb's sister, who was joint co-
ordinator of the fundraiser. If Tracey could get Vicky on
her side, then the Docklands Memorial Hospital was just
about to become a much more interesting — and much
happier — place.
"This was a really, really stupid idea," Seb informed his
sis- ter. "Remind me again. Why did I agree to do
this?" 'Because you just lur-r-rve your picture being in
the pa- pers, and the papers love you even more when
you're wear- ing your tux," Vicky said with a grin. "The
Hon. Sebastian Radley raises money for emergency
department equipment: you're guaranteed tons of column
inches with this one. Posh but caring. It's a winner."
"Oh, ha." He scowled at her. "Why couldn't I just have
made a large donation to hospital funds?"
"Because that's not proper news — it wouldn't have been
enough to get the press off Charlie's back. So he'd have
ended up trying to sort things out with Sophie while the
paparazzi was trying to bang her door down, and she'd have
run a mile, instead of agreeing to marry him.'Vicky
shrugged. "It was the best idea I could come up with at
short notice. And, may I re- mind you, you couldn't come
up with a better one. You went along with it."
"Hmm, well. You owe me for this. So does our big brother,"
Seb warned.
"Relax," she soothed, making a last-minute adjustment to
his bow-tie. "You look fantastic. If you weren't my
brother and the world's biggest louse to women, I'd be
tempted to buy a ticket myself."
"It was supposed to be a promise auction." Seb's blue eyes
narrowed.
"It is, for everything else. But a night with you... Seb,
this is a hospital. The debs can afford a bidding war —
or, rather, their fathers can — but we need to give
everyone a fair chance. That's why we're raffling you
instead."
"If you'd kept it as an auction, you could've bid for me."
He sighed. "I would have funded you to do it."
"You'd have bought yourself?" Vicky snorted. "Oh, come on.
Don't expect me to believe that one. You love dating
women. You live to party. This is you we're talking
about.'She paused and gave him a speculative look. "Unless
you've fallen in love and you're going to settle down?"
"Of course not. What do you think I am, stupid?'Seb
frowned 'No. I just... Look, I hope those tickets made it
clear it was one single night out and not a promise of
wedding bells. And that there's absolutely no possibility
of an ongoing relationship."
"Seb, you're the prize." She ruffled his hair. "Everyone
knows the rules."
"I'd prefer them spelt out, to be on the safe side." 'Too
late. We've sold all the tickets. Just stop fussing, will
you?"
"I just hope you pick a ticket for someone matronly who'll
love being treated as a star for a night — a make-over, a
limo, a swish meal out," Seb said, his mouth
thinning. "And I'm never, ever, ever going to be suckered
into doing anything like this again."
Vicky waited a beat. "Seb?" 'Yes?" 'Stop being so grumpy,
put a smile on your face, and go charm some money out of
the crowd."
Charm. It was what he was good at. And that was the point
of tonight after all: raising money for hospital funds. He
took a deep breath, and followed his sister's instructions.
By the time he was halfway through the evening, Seb was
enjoying himself hugely. He'd persuaded everyone to up
their bids just that little bit more. He'd auctioned a
professor as a household maid for a day, a charge nurse as
a car valet for a week, three Indian head massages, six
home-cooked dinners, one very staid head of surgery to
wear a silly tie for a week, kisses — one of which he'd
bought at an outrageously high price and claimed there and
then on the stage, because the nurse who'd promised the
kiss was seriously cute — several cakes, four make-overs,
two leg-waxes and a case of cham- pagne. The money was
just pouring in for the hospital, and the room was humming
with expectation and laugher and verve.
This was great. Maybe he shouldn't have been a doctor
after all. Maybe he should have been a TV presenter, with
the crowds around him like this... Except there was a good
chance he'd have ended up in his worst nightmare. Working
with kids. Adults, yes; you knew where you stood with
adults. But kids? If it was a choice between having his
legs plucked — one hair at a time — and working with kids,
Seb would choose the plucking. No hesitation.
He was on a high until his sister walked onto the stage
with the ward's charge nurse, Tracey Fry.
"This is the moment you've all been waiting for," Vicky
said. "Tonight's raffle. A night out with the Honourable
Sebastian Radley."
There were cheers, whistles and catcalls. Seb felt his
face heat and started calculating the chances of the earth
opening up and swallowing him.
The odds weren't good. "And the winning ticket is..."
Vicky had even managed to dredge up a drum roll from
somewhere as she turned the tum- bler on the drum full of
tickets. Oh, he'd pay her back for that.
Tracey opened the little hatch at the top and reached into
the drum. She made a big show of digging in deep. And an
even bigger show of waving the folded ticket to the crowd.
He'd make her pay, too. Couldn't they just get this over
with? Tracey unfolded the ticket. "Number 457," she
announced. There was a rustling of tickets and a general
murmuring of disappointment.
Please, please, let it be someone who'd take the whole
thing at face value and wouldn't expect his undying love,
Seb begged silently.
"Alyssa Ward," Tracey called.
Alyssa Ward? Seb tried to put a face to the name, and
failed. "Um, Alyssa's not able to be here tonight," Tracey
said. She wasn't here? But... Oh, she must be on duty, Seb
re- alised. Night shift.
"So I'll tell her the good news in the morning,'Tracey
added. "Fix," someone called teasingly.
Fix? Sebastian didn't like the sound of that. What did
they mean, fix?
"The ED can't possibly win Seb for a night. He's staff!"
someone else called.
Tracey just laughed. "That's the luck of the draw. Over to
you, Seb."
He smiled sweetly and pretended to be delighted, and
finished auctioning the last few promises. All the while,
his mind was ticking over.AlyssaWard? ED — emergency
department — staff?
Ah, yes. Alyssa Ward. Their very serious and quiet regis-
trar. He'd worked with her for six months now and still
barely knew her. Although she came on team nights out, she
always seemed to be sitting at the opposite end of a very
long table. Almost, he thought, as if she was avoiding
him — but, then again, if she wanted to steer clear of
him, why would she have bought a ticket to win a night out
with him?
Completely illogical. But that was women for you — his sis-
ter excepted. Vicky, Seb thought, was completely logical.
Well, at least he wouldn't have to face Alyssa in the morn-
ing. He was on a late — and as she must be on nights,
they wouldn't be in the department at the same time. Which
would give him a few hours to find out more about her and
decide how to play this.
It was one date. And it wasn't even a date date. It was
going to be fine.
So why did he have this uneasy feeling prickling the back
of his neck?
"You are going to need full body armour before you go out
there," Fliss told Alyssa, laughing, as Alyssa walked into
the ED staffroom and headed for the coffee-machine.
"Full body armour? Why?" 'Because every woman in the
hospital's out for your blood today."
"What?'Alyssa frowned at the nurse. "Sorry, Fliss, you've
lost me completely."
"You won. Last night."
Were they in a parallel universe or something? "Won what?"
Fliss groaned. "You definitely need that coffee to wake
you up, Alyssa. You won the night out with Seb."
Alyssa shook her head. "Not me. I didn't buy a ticket."
Fliss raised an eyebrow. "You must have done. Otherwise
how could you have won?"
Alyssa folded her arms. "I didn't buy a ticket. I gave
Tracey a donation."
"Enough to buy several tickets," Tracey said, overhearing
them and coming to join them. "So I put your name on a cou-
ple of tickets for you. One of them just happened to be
the winner."
Alyssa's lip curled. "Well, I'm more than happy to donate
the prize to somebody else."
Seb, who'd overheard the last part of the conversation,
stopped dead in the corridor. Hang on. Alyssa Ward was sup-
posed to be on night shift — wasn't she?