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your tests have come back as normal. Apart from a lot of bruising, which is going to hurt for a while, and a mild concussion, you’ve got off very lightly.’ He peered at his notes for a moment, and Meg watched as he fiddled uncomfortably with his pen. ‘Can you remember what happened yet?’

      Meg shook her head. Normally she would have left it there, but there was something about Flynn, something about the way he had smiled at her this morning, the drama they had shared, that made her take the plunge and for the first time in ages prolong a conversation. ‘No, but I do remember you offering to save me a Danish pastry. You didn’t, by any chance, did you?’

      Her attempt at small talk was instantly to her dying shame rebuffed.

      ‘Apparently the police seem to think that you might have fallen asleep at the wheel.’

      Embarrassed at his businesslike tone, Meg felt her blush only deepen. ‘I didn’t!’

      ‘There were no skid marks at the scene, and apparently you were exhausted when you left this morning—though Jess told only me that, I hasten to add. I haven’t written it in my notes.’ He ran a hand through his hair, an exasperated tone creeping into his voice. ‘Why the hell didn’t you get a taxi?’

      She knew he was wrong, knew somehow that the picture he was painting wasn’t how it had happened, but her total lack of recall didn’t put her in the best position to argue the point.

      ‘I didn’t fall asleep,’ Meg intoned.

      ‘The police…’

      ‘The police are wrong,’ she retorted quickly. ‘And anyway, it’s none of your business.’ She knew she was being rude, but something about Flynn had her acting completely out of character. The little hint about the Danish pastry, the blush that wouldn’t go away—and now she was answering him back. It wasn’t actually out of character. It was more the old Meg. The Meg before Vince had extinguished every last piece of her fiery personality.

      Flynn begged to differ. ‘Oh, but it is my business, young lady. It became my business at precisely four minutes past eight this morning, when I stabilised your neck in the wreckage of your car.’ His voice was curt and formal, with no hint of the man who had held her hand just this morning, cajoled her to stay awake—who, even in the most dire of circumstances, had actually managed to make her laugh. ‘It became my business when I found out that one of the nurses in my department was so damned tired after her night shift she nearly killed herself. And,’ he added, standing over her so she had no choice but to look at him, ‘had you wiped out an entire family, no doubt it would have been left to me to deal with it. So you see, Meg—’ his lip curled around her name ‘—it is my business.’

      Despite his anger, it wasn’t a no holds barred attack, Meg realised. Not once had he mentioned the very real danger he had put himself in by staying with her throughout the ordeal, and his modest omission somehow touched her.

      He stood there for a moment, his eyes challenging her to respond, but she was too tired and too utterly defeated to argue. ‘Right, then. I’ve spoken to your parents, and I’m happy for you to be discharged tomorrow as long as you go and stay with them.’

      ‘That’s all I need,’ Meg muttered ungraciously.

      ‘I want the physio to see you before you go and run through some deep breathing exercises. Your chest is badly bruised and it’s important he sees you.’

      ‘No.’

      Flynn let out an exasperated sigh.

      ‘The catheter I can understand your objection to— but physio, for heaven’s sake? Do you have to argue about everything?’

      ‘You don’t understand.’

      ‘So enlighten me.’

      ‘Jake Reece is the Emergency physio,’ Meg started, her eyes darting around the obs ward to check that Kathy had definitely gone.

      ‘So why is that a problem?

      ‘He’s marrying my sister.’

      Flynn’s face broke into a grin then, and for a second he looked like the Flynn from this morning. ‘Jake and Kathy are getting married? That’s fantastic news.’ He seemed to remember she was there then, and stared at her, perplexed. ‘So why on earth don’t you want him to see you?’

      ‘Because, unlike you, I’m not exactly thrilled with the news.’

      ‘Why?’ He seemed genuinely bemused and Meg couldn’t believe that he didn’t understand how she was feeling.

      ‘He’s her physiotherapist, for heaven’s sake. Kathy’s handicapped. It’s wrong.’

      His face changed. She saw his bemused look change to one of distaste.

      ‘Please don’t try to tell me that you’re so politically correct you haven’t even noticed.’

      ‘Of course I’ve noticed. Kathy has also told me about it herself. Unlike you, she doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. From what I can remember of our conversation, she has mild cerebral palsy from birth, which has left her with a limp and a minor speech impediment. What she didn’t tell me, but I soon found out for myself, is that she happens to be a fun, happy, caring and very attractive woman.’

      ‘He’s ten years older than her.’

      ‘Hardly a hanging offence.’ He paused then, eyeing her carefully before continuing. ‘As you yourself pointed out, he’s her physio, not her doctor. They will have spent a lot of time together. If you got down off your high horse and actually spent some time with them, instead of judging them, you might find yourself pleasantly surprised.’

      And, after signing off her discharge papers, he left her lying there.

      Lying there for all the world wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.

      CHAPTER THREE

      MEG’S childhood had ended at nine years old.

      The day Kathy was born.

      She had spent endless afternoons sitting after school in a waiting room doing her homework while Mary took her youngest daughter to a seemingly never-ending round of appointments. Paediatricians, speech therapists, occupational therapists—the list had been endless.

      The only person who had taken it all in her stride, literally, had been Kathy. Defying the doctors’ grim prognosis, she had cheerfully picked herself up, over and over, until finally at the age of four she had taken her first steps. Her optimistic, sunny nature had served her well in the playground also, with Kathy making friends easily and keeping them. A group of little girls Meg had referred to as ‘Kathy’s army’. But Kathy’s army hadn’t always been there for her, and the playground hadn’t been the only place a child like Kathy could run into trouble or become the victim of a cruel and thoughtless taunt.

      So, from the day Kathy had come home from the hospital, Meg had taken it upon herself to look out for her. It was almost as if Meg had been fitted with an inbuilt radar, constantly on the alert, always looking out for her little sister.

      And even though the callipers had long since gone, even though Kathy was nineteen years old now, and, as Flynn had pointed out, extremely attractive with a social life that would exhaust anyone, Meg’s radar was still there. The protective feelings Meg had for her little sister hadn’t faded one iota. That was why she was cautious of Jake. She certainly wasn’t the bigot Flynn had implied. Her concern here was only to save Kathy from being hurt. After all, Meg knew better than most how easily your heart could be broken.

      But a couple of weeks at home, hiding away in her old bedroom, reading again the wonderful books that had fuelled her childhood and eating the inordinate meals that appeared every few hours, had given Meg plenty of time for reflection and introspection, and somewhere along the way Meg had finally realised that Kathy neither wanted nor needed saving.

      But

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