LITMIR.BIZ

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hell hadn’t she told him?

      So much for her promise of no more secrets.

      She’d lied to him yet again.

      Or was this some elaborate bluff, some excuse to get her out of being the queen of Contarini?

      Or—even worse—had she planned the whole thing? Was this why she’d asked him to make love to her without protection the night before she’d gone away, knowing what her family would ask of her? She’d been so emphatic about it being her safe time. Had it been yet another layer of lies? Had she deliberately tried to get pregnant by a man she knew her family would never accept?

      Feeling used and angry—and convinced now that Melinda had never really loved him at all—he picked up his mobile phone and speed-dialled her number.

      It was engaged.

      Great. Just great. His world had been turned upside down and shaken like a child’s snowglobe, and he couldn’t even talk to her about it.

      To hell with the paparazzi and playing nice. He wanted answers. If he had to kick her door down to get them, he damned well would. Grimly, he keyed in a short message—a message he knew would get a reaction—and sent it to her mobile phone.

      He flicked the intercom to let Hazel know he was ready for his first patient.

      And then, after surgery, he’d have it out with Melinda.

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      ‘I’M SORRY, Melinda, he’s with a patient,’ Hazel informed her. ‘Oh, and congratulations, by the way.’

      Oh, no.

      Oh, no, no, no.

      If Hazel knew, that meant everyone in the surgery knew.

      Including Dragan.

      She was way, way too late.

      And he was going to be so hurt and angry because he was the last one to know. After she’d promised him no more secrets, too—just to rub salt into his wounds.

      But how on earth had the paparazzi found out?

      ‘Thank you,’ she muttered. ‘Um, could you tell him I called?’

      ‘Of course, love. And I’ve got this lovely pattern for a little matinee jacket—I’ll knit you some in lemon and white. Because we don’t know if you’re having a girl or a boy yet, do we?’

      ‘Thank you, Hazel. That’s very kind.’ It was a real effort to chat and be nice when all she wanted to do right now was get off the phone.

      Her mobile phone beeped, telling her that someone had sent her a text.

      ‘Um, Hazel, I won’t hold you up because I know how busy the surgery is on a Monday morning,’ she said quickly.

      ‘Well, I’m sure I’ll see you soon, dear,’ Hazel said.

      With relief, Melinda said goodbye, hung up and switched to the message.

      New message from Dragan flashed onto the screen.

      She flicked into the message. It was very short and to the point. No more secrets?

      Even though a text message was just words and it was impossible to tell the sender’s tone, she knew from his choice of words that he was absolutely livid. And she couldn’t blame him: this was news he should have heard from her and nobody else.

      He’d be hurt, too. Because she’d let him down. She’d promised him no more secrets—and then this had happened.

      But she’d tried to get hold of him. Hadn’t he heard her message?

      Maybe his voicemail was having problems. She’d text him instead. And Hazel was bound to tell him that she’d phoned, so he would at least know she’d tried to get hold of him.

      Sorry, not meant to be like this. We need to talk. Please call me.

      She had no idea when he’d pick up the message. Maybe during his break or at the end of surgery—and despite the fact that consultations were only supposed to take ten minutes, Dragan never rushed his patients. Sometimes his surgery overran slightly, cutting into his lunch-break, and he’d been known to fit in extra patients, too, not wanting them to have to wait until the next surgery.

      Wait.

      Ha.

      All she could do right now was wait.

      She didn’t dare venture outside. Given that the press had the news of her pregnancy, the place was probably crawling with paparazzi, and she really didn’t feel up to answering questions. But there was another call she had to make.

      She rang the surgery. ‘Hi, Rachel, it’s Melinda. Is George around?’

      ‘He’s just finishing with a patient. Want me to grab him before his next appointment and get him to ring you?’ the receptionist asked.

      ‘Yes, please. Is, um, is everything OK down there?’

      ‘We had a few people in but George got rid of them,’ Rachel said. ‘Are you all right, Melinda?’

      No. Far from it. ‘Yes,’ she lied.

      Five minutes later, George called her back. ‘This is getting to be a bit of a habit,’ she said wryly. ‘And I apologise. I take it you’ve seen the papers today?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Things are a bit messy,’ she said.

      He laughed. ‘We’ve got siege conditions outside. I hope you’ve got your blackout curtains up.’

      ‘George, I would’ve told you. But I only found out myself two days ago. I don’t even know when the baby’s due. I’m waiting for my ultrasound appointment.’

      ‘It’s all right,’ he reassured her. ‘Legally, you don’t have to tell me yet anyway. But I’m glad I do know, because I need to make sure your job conditions are suitable.’

      ‘I’m a vet, George. And the surgery’s just had a refit.’

      ‘Not those sorts of conditions. In our profession, you know as well as I do there are cases you need to avoid during pregnancy on health and safety grounds. So there are some rules, and they’re not breakable under any circumstances. Number one, you don’t go anywhere near lambs; number two, you’re meticulous about hygiene; and, number three, you wear gloves if you go anywhere near a cat. Understood?’

      ‘I know. Because of the risks of chlamydophilia, listeria and toxicarosis.’ Organisms that could all be harmful to unborn babies—and to their mothers.

      ‘Exactly. You don’t take any risks. You don’t take any of my calls to large animals. And if there’s a heavy animal in the surgery that needs to be up on the table, you get help—

      you don’t do the lifting yourself. Got it?’

      ‘Got it,’ she said.

      ‘Good. Now, try and get some rest today. Everyone in the practice is under instructions to say “No comment” to just about anything. But if you need anything, you just tell us. Rachel can nip out to the shops for you if you need something and she can bring it in to you through the back.’

      ‘George, you’re a wonderful man and I don’t deserve you as a boss. I owe you your body weight in chocolate,’ she said feelingly.

      ‘I might just take you up on that,’ he teased. ‘Still, at least your other half’s a doctor. He’ll keep a good eye on you.’

      ‘Mmm.’ Though right now she wasn’t too sure Dragan was still her other half. Far from the baby drawing them closer together, overcoming the last hurdles between them, the news could be the thing to shatter their relationship for good.

      She waited all morning. And finally, at lunchtime, Dragan

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