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They frequently played golf together and Steve often dined with Robin and his uncle. For the first time, Gillian learned that there was a cousin who ran the house and looked after the two doctors and she was quick to catch a certain note in Steve's voice when he referred to the girl called Diantha. There had obviously been some kind of an affair, she thought shrewdly. When he too casually remarked that it was some time since he had been to the house, Gillian knew that it was over and that he was feeling uncomfortable and perhaps guilty about it.

He was very open about his liking for women. She didn't doubt that he was a light-hearted but harmless flirt. Nor did she doubt that women found it easy to fall in love with the attractive, personable and warm-hearted anaesthetist. In a very short time she had become fond of him and felt at ease with him. They were friends. She knew that they would never be anything more. She hoped that he realised it, too.

She hadn't meant to talk about Mark Barlow at all. But suddenly she found herself telling Steve that the surgeon had virtually offered her the job as his theatre nurse and that she had refused.

Steve was thoughtful. 'You sound regretful.'

Gillian gave a rueful nod. 'I am. I'd have loved the job,' she admitted frankly.

'Then why didn't you leap at it?'

She hesitated. 'It's hard to explain…'

'No, it isn't. You don't like each other and think it will affect your working relationship,' he said shrewdly.

She smiled. 'Something like that.'

Steve shrugged. 'We all have colleagues that we can't stand, Gillian. The profession's crowded with bossy nurses and bumptious doctors and surgeons who think themselves a cut above the rest of the world. Greenvale has fewer than most, fortunately—and I get on pretty well with most people. Mark can be very difficult, I know. He isn't the best-loved man in the district, by any means. But he is a very good surgeon. He needs a good theatre nurse—and you came with glowing references. He had you earmarked to replace Helen Irving as soon as he heard about you. I wish you could have heard him enthusing about Greenvale's good luck to get a Kit's nurse with considerable theatre experience.'

Gillian stared. 'You're joking!'

'No, I'm not. The job was yours after the first interview, love. Didn't anyone tell you?'

She shook her head. 'I answered the ad for a surgical nurse. There was a vague reference to theatre work but I might have prompted that by asking if there was any likelihood of it.' She was beginning to be angry. 'And he played it so cool! Making me feel that it was a rare privilege to have the opportunity of the job, when he'd been rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of working with me! Really looking forward to it, I daresay—and then implying that he doubted if I'd be good enough but he was magnanimously prepared to give me a trial!' The flush of fury was surging into her small face and her eyes were starting to sparkle with militant indignation.

Steve grinned. 'That sounds just like our Mark,' he said lightly, amused. 'Stiff-necked as ever!' He glanced at his watch and rose to his feet, pushing away his empty coffee cup. 'He's the type who'd lose out on something he dearly wanted rather than admit to wanting it at all. Pride! He's top-heavy with it.' He moved to the door. 'Me ... I'm not proud, love. You're the nicest thing that's happened in a long time—and I don't hesitate to say so!' He blew her a kiss and vanished, leaving the memory of his cheerful grin behind him, like the Cheshire Cat in
Alice in Wonderland.

Gillian rinsed the cups, fuming. She would dearly love to bounce Mark Barlow to Land's End and back, she thought bitterly. He was the most arrogant, the most insufferable, the most detestable man she had ever known. How could he adopt such a supercilious attitude towards her when he had apparently been as pleased as punch to learn that she was joining the staff of Greenvale! Having Kit's in common, sharing a keen interest in surgery, they ought to be friends. Instead, a rampant hostility had existed between them from the very first moment of meeting.

Leaving the clinic that afternoon after the day's work, she saw Mark talking to Mary Kenny in the grounds. She hesitated and then hurried across to join them with one of her sweetest smiles.

'Mr Barlow! I'm so glad that I caught you before you left,' she declared brightly and with a convincing air of humility. 'I've been thinking it over and I would like to assist tomorrow if the offer still stands—I do hope you'll feel that I'm good enough to be your theatre nurse when Miss Irving leaves.'

Mary Kenny looked from one to the other, puzzled. 'But that's all settled, isn't it?' she said uncertainly.

Gillian was pleased to notice that the surgeon was slightly disconcerted. 'I'd love to do the job but Mr Barlow feels that he doesn't know enough about my work to be sure that I'm suitable,' she said innocently.

The administrator laughed gently. 'Oh, my dear! You must have misunderstood him. We know all about your excellent record as a theatre sister at St Christopher's!

Why, Sir Geoffrey wrote a personal letter to say how sorry he had been to lose you and what an asset you would be to Greenvale.'

Gillian looked directly at Mark with a challenge in her dark blue eyes. 'That was kind but just what I'd expect from him. He was always very charming to me and extremely courteous on all occasions. A great man, loved and respected by everyone. There aren't enough like him!'

It was almost an accusation. Mark smiled slightly. 'Every surgeon has his own methods. I'm more likely to criticise than charm you with smiles and compliments. But if I say that you've done a good job and I'm pleased, you'll know that I mean it. My praise is hard-earned, Gillian. It's up to you to decide if you want to work for it. I hope that you will.' He turned to the older woman. 'Mary, I'll ring you this evening after I've talked to Louise and Hugh. They might decide to keep it as a very private occasion.'

With those words he was gone, walking towards the car park. Gillian said goodnight and followed more slowly, swinging her bag. His parting words seemed to confirm Steve's claim that his engagement was soon to be announced. There would probably be a few shattered hopes and dreams when it was known that he meant to marry Louise Penistone, she thought dryly, thankful that his undeniable good looks and physical magnetism didn't encourage
her
to waste her dreams on a coldblooded man like Mark Barlow ...

The
evening was wet and windy and Gillian could have found plenty in the flat to occupy the rather lonely hours. But she felt the need to go out for a while. She had a lot on her mind and she wanted to think it out. And, as always, her mind turned to the sea with its ability to calm and soothe her turbulent thoughts and emotions.

She put on jeans and a sweater and a thin anorak, for the evening was rather chilly although it was late summer. She took the Mini and drove the short distance over the downs to the coast, avoiding the resort that was so popular with holiday-makers and day-trippers. She found a quiet section of the shore, parked the car and began to walk, hands thrust into her pockets and face lifted against the elements.

She seemed to be the only one out on that bleak, rather wild evening and she preferred it that way. In the far distance, a man walked his dog but she scarcely noticed him. The spray from the rough water flicked her face, so close did she walk to the edge of the shore, small feet in sensible brogues leaving their imprints in the damp sand.

Deep in thought, Gillian walked slowly and steadily along the beach, pale hair whipped by the breeze and face glowing from the chilly spray.

So much had happened in a few days that her thoughts and emotions were in a whirl. Coming to Greenvale, meeting Steve, clashing with Mark Barlow, finding Robin again so unexpectedly. A trio of doctors had invaded her life—and each one seemed to have something to contribute to it, she felt.

Steve was a dear, already a good friend, promising to bring a lot of fun and laughter into her life. Robin was a very important part of her past who might turn out to be all of her future, she thought with a lift of her heart. Mark was someone with whom she had to come to terms if they were to work in close proximity for the year she expected to spend at Greenvale—and he threatened to be a problem.

Steve liked and admired her with the impulsive giving of affection that was obviously very much in character for him. Robin was still in love with her and he had a very special place in her heart. Mark disliked her as much as she disliked him but there was a kind of challenge in their hostility that was stimulating—and even exciting at times, she confessed, striving to be utterly honest with herself.

He was exciting in a way that Steve could never be and in a way that Robin never had been for all the warmth of her affection for him. But there was a certain danger in that excitement, Gillian realised. She wondered if it stirred his blood, too. There was a sensuality about the surgeon that triggered a shafting flame in her body. It was a matter of chemistry but surely it needed a mutual spark?

A trio of doctors, she mused again. She liked Steve. She felt that she might love Robin more than she had known. And she wanted Mark Barlow with a passionate intensity of physical longing that was frightening, because they would be thrown together again and again— and it would never do for him to become aware of the desire he kindled without even trying.

The man in the distance turned and began to walk towards her, whistling his dog to heel. Gillian was unaware of him, hearing only the sea in her ears and a very disturbing dream of a virtual stranger blinding her eyes to reality.

Mark had almost drawn level before she looked at him with seeing eyes. She came to an abrupt, startled halt.

He had recognised her some moments before. His attention was caught and held by the long, pale hair that the wind whipped about her face and by something familiar about the slight figure in jeans and anorak that battled against the elements on that bleak shore.

'Hallo,' Gillian said uncertainly, not knowing what else to say to a man who seemed to have been conjured out of thin air by her thoughts of him. Every nerve in her body had begun to tingle as she recognised the identity of the tall man with his proud, dark good looks and lithe build.

'Out in this wild weather?' he challenged lightly.

Gillian thrust her hands deeper into her pockets to prevent herself from foolishly reaching out to touch him to discover if it was really him or just a figment of her imagination.

'I like to walk and I needed to think something out,' she said, rather defensively.

'Do you want me to pretend that I haven't seen you?' There was unexpected understanding in the deep, rather lazy drawl.

A smile trembled briefly on Gillian's lips. She looked at the surgeon, noting that his dark hair glistened wetly from the rain and that the shoulders of his tweed jacket were quite damp. In casual clothes and with rumpled curls, he looked younger, less forbidding, almost human ... and attractive enough to threaten a less level head than her own.

'What about you?' she asked on a sudden impulse, challenging in her turn. 'I didn't expect you to like this sort of thing.'

'Henry does.' He indicated the black labrador who was dashing in and out of the water, barking madly at the wild waves. 'He insisted on bringing me here this evening. It's one of his favourite places,' he told her, eyes twinkling with a little humour. He saw that the light words brought the flickering smile into full radiance, illuminating her small face with a sudden and rather enchanting warmth. He had known that she was a pretty girl, he now discovered that she could be very lovely.

'And you fell in with his wishes? It seems unlikely,' Gillian said dryly.

As she turned to walk back along the beach, unconsciously guided by the fact that he had been walking in that direction, he fell into step by her side.

'Oh, I didn't mind,' he said, very light. 'This reduces me to a man, after all.' He gestured at the sea, the rolling horizon, the fast-approaching bank of black cloud that heralded the night. 'At times I'm encouraged to believe that I'm a superior being. Out here, minimised by the elements, I realise how unimportant I am in the scheme of things.'

Gillian liked the glimpse of humour in him. She liked a man who could laugh at himself and encourage others to laugh with him, too. Suddenly, for the first time and quite unexpectedly, she felt that it might even be possible to like this man ...

They walked on in silence, wind and rain in their faces. The light was fading fast and she suddenly stumbled over a clump of stones in the sand. His hand sped automatically to her elbow. Gillian smiled her thanks, knowing that her whole being had rocked at his touch.

Physical attraction, she knew. It sent a kind of shock quivering down her spine, heightening all her awareness of the man by her side. But she hadn't known that it could be so forceful that she would feel like throwing all caution to the wind that blew so strongly along the shore.

His hand slid down her arm to capture her fingers. She looked up at him quickly. He looked back at her with, a quizzical lift of an eyebrow. She knew she ought to snatch her hand away. Instead, she allowed it to lie in his firm clasp, tingling, wondering if he was aware of his effect on her senses.

The steady drizzle turned abruptly to a fierce squall of rain. 'Come on!' he said urgently and they began to run towards a wooden shelter that was close to the spot where she had parked the Mini. The dog raced at their heels, barking furiously, eager to join in a new game.

Gillian was breathless and laughing and a little trembly by the time they reached the sanctuary of the shelter. She leaned against the wall, her heart pounding.

Mark looked down at her with some concern, recalling that she had recently been ill, remembering that she had fainted and how slight and frail she had seemed when he lifted her in his arms. She didn't seem to be very strong. He wondered how she was going to cope with the demands and the tensions of the operating theatre. It would be made all the more difficult if she was still so determined not to like him or accept him as a friend.