LITMIR.BIZ

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it’s high time you pulled yourself together and came back home. You’ve only been marking time in the States. Why don’t you really put the past behind you and start living again?’

      After a moment, Madeleine said slowly, ‘I might just do that,’ and started to mean it.

      ‘Honest?’ Eve queried.

      ‘Honest.’

      ‘With regard to a job, you could always treat patients privately. Visit them in their own homes, or even take a live-in position, until you find the right kind of opening and accommodation.

      ‘Tell you what, I’m working tomorrow morning, filling in for Tracy. I can check the list of clients who want home-visits and see what new enquiries are coming in. I’ll let you know if there’s anything that seems suitable…Now, before you go, there’s someone here who would like a word with you. Just at the moment he’s sleeping on my bed-settee while he looks for a flat.’

      ‘Hi, beautiful!’ said a familiar voice.

      ‘Noel!’ Madeleine cried, her gladness evident.

      ‘What’s my favourite girl been doing?’

      ‘Behaving like an idiot.’

      ‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he joked.

      ‘It’s great to hear your voice.’

      ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Hurry back, sugar. Seeing me in the flesh is bound to give you an even bigger thrill.’

      Laughing, she said, ‘I didn’t know you were home.’

      ‘I’m back for good, ready to settle down to a nine-to-five job behind a desk.’

      Madeleine didn’t believe him for a second. ‘You’re joking, of course.’

      ‘Yes and no. I’m going to give it a try, anyway.’

      ‘Any special reason?’ she pried.

      ‘You mean, is there a woman involved? Yes. Her name’s Zoe. She’s five feet three, with a figure like a dream, short dark hair, and eyes the colour of chocolate. Added to that, she’s clever, good-natured and loyal, and she thinks I’m the bee’s knees,’ he added smugly.

      ‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she? You always did have a good sales pitch. Just take care she doesn’t discover too many faults,’ Madeleine giggled.

      ‘Faults?’ He sounded affronted. ‘I don’t have any faults—like most men, I’m perfect.’

      ‘Of course you are. Sorry.’

      ‘I should think so. However, just in case she hasn’t realised all my finer qualities, it wouldn’t do any harm to have you on hand to sing my praises…’

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘Well, if you can’t think of anything better, you could always tell her how shy and sweet and utterly wonderful I am. If necessary I’ll pay you.’

      ‘You want me to lie to her for money?’

      He groaned. ‘Where are your friends when you need them? Still, I’ll forgive you if you come back as soon as possible.’

      ‘I intend to.’ Whether or not Eve found anything suitable, Madeleine now knew for certain that she was going home.

      ‘Any chance of making it back for Christmas?’

      ‘I seriously doubt it.’

      ‘There’s a cold snap on the way and good odds on it being a white one this year. Remember how, as kids, we used to wish for a white Christmas?’

      ‘I remember,’ Madeleine answered wistfully.

      ‘Well, the long-range weather forecast has been for snow nationwide, the mistletoe is up and my lips are pursed ready.’

      Madeleine laughed. ‘Even with such an incentive, I’m afraid I can’t see myself making it until the New Year. But I’ll get things moving as fast as possible.’

      ‘You do that. Bye, now. See you soon.’

      With a sigh, Madeleine replaced the receiver.

      The fact that she was going home would be a blow to her aunt and uncle, and she hated the thought of telling them almost as much as she hated the thought of telling Alan. But it had to be done.

      In the event, telling Alan proved to be an even worse ordeal than she had anticipated. Displaying an unexpected streak of tenacity, he hung on like a terrier, refusing to accept her decision, trying to change her mind.

      By the time the uncomfortable meal was over, Madeleine felt totally shattered.

      Pleading a headache, which was the truth, she opted for an early night and, fearing a continuation of the pressure, refused his offer to take her home and waved for a cab.

      It was obvious that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and, knowing that for both their sakes it would be best to make a quick, clean break, she decided to leave Boston as soon as she could. But as it was only a few days to Christmas, she realized it might prove impossible to get a flight until after the holiday.

      As soon as she got back to her bedsit, she called Logan Airport.

      Her luck was in.

      Due to a last-minute cancellation, there was a seat available on a flight leaving the following evening. Though it was in first class, and she couldn’t really afford the extra, she booked it on her credit card.

      That done, she breathed a sigh of relief.

      When she reached London, she would have just about enough money to enable her to stay in one of the cheaper hotels for a few nights.

      How well she managed after that would depend on how soon she could get back to work. If Eve came up with anything suitable…

      Thinking of her friend, she reached for the phone. It would be the early hours of the morning in England, so she couldn’t tell Eve what she’d done, but she could leave a message.

      Having tapped in the familiar number, she waited for the answering machine to cut in, then said, ‘Eve, it’s Maddy. I’ve managed to get a seat on a flight leaving Boston tomorrow night. I’ll ring tomorrow afternoon, when you’re home from work, and give you the details. Bye for now.’

      Then, her head throbbing dully, she emailed Katie to tell her the news, before putting on her nightdress and going through to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

      She had been sleeping badly lately, but, now she had come to a decision and taken the first positive step towards going home, she should be able to sleep better, she told herself bracingly as she climbed into bed.

      For months she had tried not to think about Rafe, but, as though the decision to go back to London had opened the floodgates of memory, she found herself doing just that.

      She could see in her mind’s eye how his thick, sooty lashes brushed his hard cheeks when he looked down…how his clear green eyes could go silvery with laughter, or dark and smoky with desire…how the creases in his lean cheeks—too male to be called dimples—deepened when he smiled.

      She remembered how generous and caring he had been. How willing to give and take, to compromise. Remembered too how masterful and resourceful he could be when he thought it necessary. She had been at the Mayfair clinic one Friday evening when, returning early from what she knew had been a tiring business trip, he’d phoned to suggest that they had dinner together.

      Having agreed to work later than usual, and unwilling to keep him hanging about, she had said no, and arranged to meet him the next day for lunch. She had then spent the rest of the evening regretting her decision, and wishing she’d said yes.

      When she had left for home, he was waiting for her.

      Leaning nonchalantly against his Porsche, wearing casual clothes and,

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