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Before she could give the matter more than a passing thought, the patient was being wheeled in from the ante-room. Steve was busy with valves and cylinders and there was no time to think of anything but the job for which she had been trained.

She was keyed-up, determined to do well, anxious that Mark shouldn't have the slightest cause to find fault with her work. But within moments of Steve's nod and the first incision of the scalpel that she slapped into Mark's waiting hand, she relaxed and began to enjoy her involvement in his surgical skill. Assisting him proved to be a delight. It was impossible not to admire his expertise and his confidence or to realise that here was a really good surgeon who loved his work.

It was a lengthy and delicate operation, inserting a plastic mesh into the abdominal wall of a middle-aged man to reduce and repair a chronic inguinal hernia. When it was over and the patient had been wheeled away to the recovery room, Mark stripped off the thin
surgical gloves and tossed them into the 'dirty' bin. He drew down his mask.

Gillian waited, apprehensive.

He looked into the slightly anxious dark blue eyes as though he was seeing her for the first time that morning. Then he nodded. 'You were good,' he said brusquely. 'Very good. Thanks.'

He walked from the theatre.

Gillian discovered that she was trembling. It had been that important to her. She knew that with one adverse word from Mark Barlow she wouldn't have worked in the theatre at Greenvale again. He could have taken his revenge for the rebuff of the previous evening. But, as Penny had claimed, he was quick but he was fair—and he wasn't a fool. She knew she was a good theatre nurse. So did he. He needed someone efficient and reliable and with her kind of experience. Personal feelings had no place in an operating theatre. No one could be more impersonal than Mark Barlow when he wished, she thought wryly. Not a word had passed between them that morning which wasn't connected with their work.

The night before she had telephoned Robin as soon as she reached the flat, determined to shake off the absurd fancy that she could lose her heart to a man like Mark Barlow. Talking to the delighted Robin, making eager plans to meet, her head and heart had returned to their usual even keel.

It had been a momentary madness, a kind of magic. The power of sexual attraction wasn't a myth, she had discovered, much to her dismay. It could transform a level-headed girl into a near wanton in a moment and it was disturbing to realise how close she had come to melting surrender. The circumstances had been against him and on her side, fortunately. Another time, another place ...

Steve smiled at her. 'That's the first hurdle behind you, love. It wasn't so bad, was it?'

She liked his ready understanding, his warm friendliness. He was the kind of man that any girl would find easy to love, she felt. Like Robin, unlike Mark Barlow, he was uncomplicated.

'I was shaking in my shoes,' she confessed with a light laugh.

'It didn't show,' he assured her warmly. 'Mark likes confidence and you seemed to have plenty of it. I thought we made a good team.'

'Everything went well,' she pointed out, a little dryly. 'No problems. He won't feel that I've proved myself until I've coped with a crisis or two!'

'I daresay you've coped with a few crises in your time. Mark admires your work more than he's saying, believe me. He never does say much—until he's annoyed and then he says much more than he means. You'll learn to know him, Gillian. I'm not saying that you'll learn to love him, of course,' he added, eyes twinkling. 'We don't want that to happen, do we? You're reserved for me, love.'

She smiled but she felt a twinge of anxiety. She would need to be blind and deaf and stupid not to be aware of his growing affection for her, she thought ruefully. He might be light-hearted about it but it was possible that he could be hurt. She must be careful not to encourage him. For there was Robin after all—and she must make up her mind if she really wanted to resume their comfortable, undemanding relationship with its promise of eventual marriage. If she didn't, then she must be careful not to encourage him to hope, either.

She was meeting him that evening. Perhaps it would clarify the way she felt about him after so long.

And perhaps it would banish the lingering impact of another man's kiss ...

By the end of the day's list, Gillian felt that she had acquitted herself reasonably well. But Mark didn't add any more to those first terse words of praise. At the same time, he hadn't been critical of her work.

With only three operations on the list, it had been much more leisurely than she had been used to at Kit's. There was time for the surgeon and anaesthetist to relax between each operation and plenty of time for Gillian to ensure the smooth running of the theatre and to check that everyone else was doing their job properly. She slipped easily into the role of theatre nurse. Used to dealing with sensitive juniors, she knew just how to organise things as she wished without alienating the rest of the theatre staff. Gillian felt that it was more important to be heeded than liked and she could be strict. But she had a warmth and a sweetness of personality that won her liking as well as respect—and she found that the Kit's badge went a long way towards her acceptance by her newly-acquired colleagues at, Greenvale.

That evening, Robin smiled at her across the table and leaned over to touch her hand. 'You're beautiful,' he said simply.

Gillian smiled and shook her head at the exaggeration, knowing that she was far from beautiful. But she thought that she might be looking pretty and she was glad for his sake. It was a long time since she had dressed up for an occasion and she had taken the rose taffeta from her wardrobe with some hesitation. But Robin had said that the country club dances were formal affairs and she knew that he wanted to show her off to all his friends.

She loved the elegant lines of the frock, flattering the swell of her breasts and her small waist and slender hips. She loved its luxurious swishing of silk when she moved. She loved the soft colour that reflected in her cheeks and deepened her eyes and enhanced the fairness of hair and skin.

Wearing her hair down and curling slightly on her shoulders, pale and gleaming in the soft light, she felt pretty and feminine and alluring. She had discarded capable, competent and practical Gillian Grant, Kit's nurse, theatre nurse. She was simply Gillian, all woman, basking in the affection and admiration that glowed in Robin's eyes, warmed his voice and vibrated in his touch. She felt young and light of heart—just a little reckless.

'Let's dance,' Robin said eagerly as music filled the room and couples began to drift towards the dance floor.

Gillian rose obediently, knowing that he was longing to hold her and that dancing was the excuse he needed. He had never been shy or uncertain in the past. Now he seemed afraid of losing her again with a wrong word or an incautious act.

Dancing with him was easy and effortless. Their steps seemed to match with the timelessness of long-ago harmony. His arms held her close and he pressed his cheek to her hair. She could feel the heavy thud of his heart against her breast.

She was surrounded by the love that he still felt for her/It was warm, comforting, comfortable, making no demands on her. It didn't have to be exciting, she told herself firmly, rejecting the critical thought that something was missing just as it had always been. Perhaps he didn't stir her senses. But perhaps she was wrong to suppose that sexual attraction was a vital part of any meaningful relationship between a man and a woman. Perhaps a woman was only meant to be awakened and initiated into the delights of sex by the man she married. In which case, she ought to feel quite guilty when she recalled the quivering excitement that Mark Barlow's nearness had aroused in her, she thought wryly.

Still thinking of the surgeon, she found herself looking over Robin's shoulder and directly into those disconcerting grey eyes. He seemed to have a gift for turning up in her life at such moments.

He was dancing with Louise Penistone, a vision of loveliness in flame-coloured chiffon. He smiled at Gillian, surprising her into a slight blush. But she refused to recognise the unexpected charm and melting warmth of that smile. She looked back at him coolly and inclined her head in the merest nod of acknowledgment.

She might have known he would be there to spoil her evening, she thought bitterly, looking up at Robin and laughing happily as he whirled her about the dance floor.

As the music stopped, Mark and his lovely girlfriend came to a halt just a few feet away from them. Knowing them both, Robin greeted them eagerly, demanded to know if they were with friends and invited them to their table for a drink.

Introduced to Louise Penistone, Gillian wasn't at all surprised that the girl didn't recognise her out of uniform. She knew that she had been virtually invisible while Louise was greeting her friend and smiling so warmly at Mark when she visited Beverley Jakes at Greenvale. She might not be so indifferent or so bored by an introduction to another woman if she knew that the man she had reserved for herself had been making light love to her on the previous evening, Gillian thought dryly.

As Robin suggested that they should combine forces for the remainder of the evening, she told herself that it was absurd to feel that Mark Barlow had deliberately manoeuvred matters to that fend. For his cool gaze reduced her to the status of a stranger and there was only the merest courtesy in his deep drawl whenever he spoke to her. He was being very circumspect, she thought mockingly. He didn't want anything to upset the applecart just as he was about to get engaged to Hugh Penistone's daughter. He was possibly hoping that she wouldn't say or do anything that he'd have to explain away. Gillian was almost tempted to embarrass him!

Robin and Louise were members of the local tennis club and very keen players. They began to talk about a recent tournament and were soon so involved in friendly argument that their companions were forgotten.

Mark turned to Gillian and suggested that they should dance. She hesitated. He got to his feet with a slightly impatient air that indicated that he had no time for foolishness. Meekly she rose and accompanied him on to the dance floor and went into his waiting arms. She wished that her heart wouldn't tumble about in her breast so foolishly just because they closed about her as if she belonged in them until the end of time.

Dancing with him was sheer delight although he didn't dance as well as Robin and it took her a few moments to adjust her steps to his unfamiliar lead. She was very conscious of his masculinity, his attractiveness. She tried to hold herself slightly away, disturbed by the readiness of her body to react to his embrace.

He looked down at her with a faintly amused gleam in his grey eyes. 'You're looking very pretty this evening,' he said lazily.

It was impossible to know if he meant the words. She was instinctively suspicious of everything he said or did. Why should he wish to pay her even the slightest of compliments after all?

'Thank you,' she said stiffly.

'All for McAllister's benefit?'

She tensed at the hint of mockery. 'Of course. How could I have known that I was going to see you?' she retorted sweetly.

He smiled. 'Oh, I know you aren't interested in impressing me—except with your excellent work in the theatre. I might not have said much to you, Gillian, that isn't my way. But you'd have known soon enough if I wasn't well satisfied.'

She looked up at him. 'A little praise goes a long way, you know. Criticism, however justified, is always resented,' she said bluntly.

'My criticism is always justified.' The light tone mocked his own awareness of the arrogance that irritated her so much. 'Praise ... ?' He smiled wryly. 'You'd have bridled if I'd dared to praise anything that's normal standards for a Kit's nurse. I've learned that much about you!'

Gillian smiled reluctantly. She knew he was right. She was as prickly as a hedgehog where Kit's was concerned, ready to take offence at the merest hint of a slight on the famous hospital's high standards of training.

The music was slow and very sensuous. He drew her closer as they danced on the crowded floor and she was conscious of the warm sweetness of his breath on her cheek and hair, she quickened to the pressure of his lean body against her own. She knew that she shouldn't melt against him. It might seem like an invitation to continue where they had broken off on the previous evening.

As if he read her mind with disconcerting ease, he said quietly: 'I'm sorry about last night, Gillian. I guess I took too much for granted.'

She was astonished by the apology. She hadn't thought it possible that he was the kind of man to admit to being at fault. 'Yes, you did,' she agreed promptly, not too ready to forgive him.

'There's something about you that puzzles me,' he said slowly. 'I can't be sure if you're very innocent or very experienced.'

'You aren't likely to find out, are you?' she said tartly, angry that he should doubt that she wasn't the type to sleep around. She pulled herself out of his disturbing embrace. 'I'd like to sit down. I'm rather tired.' She stalked ahead of him to the table where Robin and Louise were still talking tennis.

They broke off as Gillian reached them. She sat down beside Robin. He turned to her with flattering promptness and slipped an arm about her shoulders. He smiled at her with such loving tenderness that she felt quite guilty about having enjoyed those few moments in another man's arms.

Mark Barlow stirred her to swift anger. But he also flooded her with a heady desire. She didn't believe it was loving in any shape or form. Love without liking was just not possible for her, she felt. It was simply a sexual awareness that he triggered whether or not she wanted it to happen. For the first time in her life, Gillian knew the power of passion and ached for the glorious fulfilment that she could find in his arms.

The sooner she conquered that wild, wanton desire for a man she didn't even like the safer she would be, she decided firmly. For it seemed that too many women had thrown themselves at Mark Barlow, with or without success, and he obviously despised them for it. She didn't mean to make the same mistake. She didn't want to be just a brief enchantment for a sensual man. She wanted to be loved and needed for the rest of her life—and surely that was just what Robin was offering. She could be content and secure, married to Robin. Excitement was all very well but It didn't last, she told herself levelly.