LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘HAVE you seen him yet?’

      Harriet Farrell had barely taken her jacket off before the question on everyone’s lips was directed at her.

      ‘I assume we’re talking about the new consultant,’ Harriet responded, rolling pale blue eyes heavenwards. ‘I’ve already had two of the late staff waylay me and tell me how divine he is. And, no,’ she added, turning to the mirror and pulling her straight, sandy red hair back into a ponytail. ‘I haven’t seen him.’

      ‘He’s divine,’ Charlotte, one of the grad nurses, sighed dreamily. ‘Spanish,’ she added, as if that information alone was enough to exalt him to sex-idol status.

      ‘Well, with a name like Ciro Delgato, even I’d managed to work that one out,’ Harriet responded with a dry note to her voice. ‘I just hope he’s good at his job. Have you seen how full the waiting room is? Unless Dr Divine is as good as his résumé attests, we could be in for a very long night.’

      ‘Oh, come on, Harriet, don’t be such a killjoy. Anyone would think you didn’t want to be here tonight.’ Susan, one of the more senior nurses on the night shift, grinned. ‘I’m as happily married as you are, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t appreciate a fine specimen when he comes along, particularly one with a dreamy accent! It certainly makes a night shift in Emergency go faster.’

      ‘Ah, but you’re not married to Drew Farrell, Susan,’ Charlotte teased, not noticing Harriet’s flaming cheeks as she rummaged in her bag for red and blue pens. ‘I, for one, wouldn’t want to leave my famous, good-looking husband alone in bed to do a Saturday night shift in this place, no matter how good-looking the new consultant was.’

      It had been meant as a joke, Harriet knew that.

      But even as she watched her colleagues head out for handover, even as she smiled and told them she’d be along in a few minutes, her throat was so thick with emotion she thought she might break down at any moment. Charlotte’s comment had been so inadvertently near the mark it felt as if Charlotte must have read her diary.

      Not that Harriet kept one!

      Sitting down on one of the rickety plastic chairs, she allowed herself

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