The Greek Children's Doctor(4)

By: Sarah Morgan



Was the NHS really in that much trouble?

With a slight lift of his wide shoulders he dismissed the thought and proceeded to read the notes on each child, his sharp brain absorbing the information and filing it away for later.

An hour later he was thoroughly briefed on all the current admissions and he left the ward quietly, walking along the corridors that led to the main entrance, hesitating briefly as he reached the stairs that led down to the doctors’ bar in the basement. Loud music drifted up the stairs, along with catcalls and much whooping and laughter.

Intrigued by the concept of anything so alien as an auction involving people, Andreas took the stairs and pushed open the door of the bar just as a leggy blonde sashayed down the improvised catwalk.

He stopped dead, his attention caught.

She was stunning.

Andreas sucked in a breath, his eyes raking over every inch of her slender, perfectly formed body. As he watched, she tossed her long, wavy blonde hair over her slim shoulders, her slanting blue eyes glinting as if she was daring someone to buy her.

She was wearing an almost indecently short pink dress and heels that were so high he feared for her safety, but she walked with a grace and elegance that was achingly feminine.



‘Lot number 16.’ The auctioneer laughed, raising his voice over the howls and wolf whistles. ‘What am I bid for our Libby?’

There was a chorus of enthusiastic yells and the blonde rolled her eyes and grinned, striking an exaggerated pose that took his breath away.

Andreas surveyed her with unashamed lust, oblivious to the admiring glances he himself was drawing from the other females in the room.

Temporarily forgetting how jaded he was with women, he studied her closely and came to the conclusion that she was gorgeous. Physically. He didn’t fool himself that her beauty went any deeper than that, but for a short-term relationship did that really matter? He wasn’t inviting her to be the mother of his children so the intricacies of her personality were irrelevant.

‘Ten pounds,’ the auctioneer said. ‘Let’s start the bidding at £10.’

Andreas glanced at the auctioneer incredulously. Did the man have no idea of value?

‘Yes.’ A lanky blond man raised an arm and Andreas watched with interest as the girl’s expression froze. All the warmth and humour drained out of her pretty face and she stared ahead stonily. It was clear to everyone watching that she didn’t want to be purchased by the blond man.

She started moving again, and it was obvious from the way that her eyes slid frantically around the room that she was searching for someone. She seemed tense, almost desperate, and then her gaze rested on Andreas.

Startled eyes, as blue as the Aegean sea, widened and stared into his. Instead of continuing her rhythmic sway down the stage, she stopped dead, her whole body still, frozen by the connection that sizzled between them.

Taken aback by the strength of the attraction, Andreas felt his body tighten in that most primitive of male responses. His arrogant dark head angled back, he held her gaze, forgetting the recent change to his life that had fired his resolution to avoid women.

Suddenly all he wanted was her.

Naked. In his bed.

No self-respecting Greek male would allow a woman like her to pass by unscathed.

It would be a criminal waste.

Totally sure of himself, he strolled forward, indifferent to the lustful female stares he was attracting from all quarters. He was only interested in one woman and the confidence of his stride made the crowd part to let him through.

‘One thousand pounds.’ He delivered his bid coolly, his eyes still holding hers as he dropped the words into the expectant hush. He’d never paid for a woman in his life before, but there was no way he was letting the blond man buy her. Or any other man.

He wanted her for himself.

And Andreas Christakos was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

‘One thousand pounds!’ The auctioneer was almost incoherent with delight. ‘Well, none of you tight individuals are going to top that so I’d say Libby’s going, going, gone to the tall, dark stranger with the fat wallet!’

Ignoring the laughter, Andreas stretched out a lean, strong hand to Libby, his eyes still holding hers.

Looking slightly stunned, she stepped forward, descended the stage with care and took his hand, chin held high.

It was only when he caught her from falling at the bottom of the steps that he realised that she’d had too much to drink.

The blond man who’d bid £10 stepped forward, clearly desperate to speak to her, but she silenced him with an icy glare and Andreas felt her small hand tremble in his.

He frowned slightly. Why was she shaking?

In an instinctive male reaction, his hand tightened on hers possessively.

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