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always looking for people to lend a hand.’

      He threw back his head and laughed. ‘You don’t give up, do you, Megan Rees? I guess you like to involve people in your good causes—but I think I’ll pass on that one if it’s all the same with you. I have quite enough to deal with at the moment, one way and another.’

      ‘Do you?’ She wondered what those things might be as she smiled gently and tugged her hand free. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Things to do, people to see. I’ll leave you to go and retrieve your painting.’

      It was an excuse, but suddenly she felt the need to put distance between them. Her hand was still tingling from the warm intimacy of his grasp and her body quivered in response to the lingering look he had bestowed on her. All at once he seemed like the Devil personified, and her instinct was to retreat, fast.

      She wasn’t quite sure why she felt that way, but if instinct was urging her to run, she would follow it. Theo was a red-blooded male, young and vigorous, and she couldn’t help but sense his interest in her. That alone was enough to put her on her guard. Hadn’t she already discovered that there was some kind of a flaw in all the men who crossed her path?

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘IT WAS definitely a heart attack. Look at the lab results…they show that her cardiac enzymes are elevated.’ Megan scanned the report on screen and then switched to the results of the echocardiograph. ‘See this area here?’ She glanced at the senior house officer by her side and pointed out the region that was giving her concern. ‘The heart function is definitely impaired.’

      ‘I see it. It’s not good, is it?’ Sarah winced. Her face was pale against the gold of her hair, and Megan guessed the long hours on duty were beginning to take their toll on her. She hoped she could send her to the doctors’ lounge to take a well-earned rest soon, as things had been hectic in A and E.

      ‘Not good at all.’ Megan turned her attention to the monitor that was recording her patient’s vital signs. ‘Her heart rate is way too high and her condition’s deteriorating fast.’

      ‘What are you going to do?’ Sarah was worried, her gaze troubled as she studied the laboratory results. ‘You’ve already given her glyceryl trinitrate and diamorphine, along with an infusion of tirofiban and heparin, but the chest pain is coming back, and she’s struggling to get her breath.’

      Megan pressed her lips together. ‘We’ll leave her on the infusion for a while longer to see if things settle down.’ She frowned, pushing back a silky lock of chestnut hair that tumbled across her cheek. ‘Is there any news of Mr Carlson yet? We’re running out of time. If we don’t get her to surgery soon, she could go into cardiogenic shock and that would be grim.’

      ‘I’ll go and check, but last I heard he was tied up in Theatre at a hospital across the county.’

      Megan winced. ‘We really need more people that we can call on. We’ve been understaffed for months now, and the situation doesn’t show any sign of changing for the better, does it?’

      Sarah shook her head. She went to make her phone call, while Megan spoke quietly to the nurse who was assisting, before checking the infusion meter and keying in the appropriate settings.

      ‘Let me know if there’s any change,’ she murmured, and the nurse nodded.

      ‘I will.’

      Megan drew in a quick breath and went in search of her next patient. It had been non-stop from the minute she had come on duty. A traffic accident at a notorious road junction had kept her and her colleagues busy for most of the morning, tending to the injured, and then she’d had to deal with a patient who couldn’t breathe properly and a child with a broken arm. Then had come the woman who had suffered a heart attack.

      Just another day in the emergency department, and problems were piling up on one another, thick and fast. Wasn’t that the nature of the job?

      An hour or so later she headed towards the central area to see who was next on her list.

      ‘Ouch.’ A small voice caught her attention and she glanced into one of the treatment rooms off the central area in time to see a small boy clambering up onto a trolley bed. He was attempting to unhook an oxygen mask and tubing from the outlet on the wall at the back of the bed, and it looked as though he had banged his leg in the attempt. He stopped to rub his injury momentarily and then went on with his examination of the oxygen equipment.

      What on earth was he doing in there on his own? Megan went to investigate.

      ‘Is someone looking after you?’ she asked. He couldn’t be much more than five years old, she guessed.

      The boy glanced at her and then nodded without saying anything.

      ‘Are you sick?’

      He shook his head.

      ‘That’s good. But I saw that you banged your leg on the bed. Do you want me to take a look at it?’

      Again there was a perfunctory shake of the head, an action that sent his dark hair into a quiver. Losing interest in her, he tugged at the tubing and started to play around with the mask.

      ‘You really shouldn’t be playing with that,’ she told him. ‘If you pull on it like that it might get damaged, and then it won’t be of any use if we need it when someone needs help to breathe.’

      ‘Oh.’ He put the mask down on the pillow and looked around him in a disgruntled fashion. ‘I don’t want to stay here,’ he said, giving her an accusatory glance. ‘I want my mum.’

      ‘OK.’ Megan studied him, wondering what had brought about the downward slant to his lip. ‘I’ll see if we can do something about that.’ She held out her hand to him. ‘Do you want to come with me and we’ll see if we can sort this out?’

      His glare was truculent. ‘I don’t know you. You’re a stranger.’

      ‘Ah…’ For a second or two his simple logic knocked her for six. ‘Well, yes, you’re quite right about that,’ she murmured, recovering. ‘And it’s very sensible of you to stay put, under the circumstances.’ Her mouth twisted as she thought things through. ‘Who is supposed to be looking after you?’ she asked, trying another tack. ‘You really shouldn’t be here on your own, you know.’

      A boy of few words, he pointed to the central area beyond, and then shrugged his shoulders upwards, clamping his bent legs with his arms and burying his chin on his knees. Watching him, Megan didn’t think she was going to get much more out of him.

      She looked to where he had pointed and saw that Sarah was talking to someone who had his back to her. She stared for a moment at that tall, grey-suited figure, and all at once she stiffened. There was something instantly recognisable about those broad masculine shoulders and the long sweep of taut legs.

      What was Theo Benyon doing here? And did he make a habit of leaving children to their own devices?

      ‘Stay here,’ Megan said to the child. ‘What’s your name, by the way? What should I call you?’

      ‘Harry.’ His blue eyes held a belligerent spark, but she sensed that underneath all the muted aggression there was a troubled, vulnerable little boy.

      ‘I’ll be back in a little while, Harry.’

      Sarah was clearly captivated by the artist’s easygoing manner. There was a flush of warmth in her once pale cheeks, and her green eyes were lit with a kind of awed expectation.

      Megan clamped her lips together. Theo was a disruptive influence. Why was he taking up space in their A and E unit if he wasn’t sick?

      ‘Well, hello, there,’ she said on a brisk note as she approached him. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again quite so soon. Is there something we can do for you, Mr Benyon?’

      ‘Theo, please.’ A faint smile hovered on his lips, but it disappeared almost as soon as he met her gaze. ‘Uh-oh,’ he said, narrowing

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