By contrast, the man had eyes only for her, as though nothing else in the world existed for him. His hands were about her waist or on her shoulder, touching her face, his expression one of tender adoration.

Andrew wanted to seize him, shake him, crying, You fool, don’t be taken in by her. She’s nothing but a cold-hearted little schemer, who’ll break your heart and laugh at you.

She’d been laughing when he’d first seen her at the party, dancing with blissful abandon. With her head thrown back in enjoyment, her eyes sparkling, she’d seemed the very embodiment of everything he’d given up on the day he’d decided to be the greatest doctor in the world. He’d devoted himself to study, ignoring the young, heedless pleasures that other medical students had seemed to find time for. They’d been all right for people who’d been satisfied with being ordinary doctors, but he hadn’t been satisfied, and he hadn’t been going to be ordinary.

Without warning this shimmering pixie had burst on him, and before he’d been able to control the feeling, he’d been filled with fierce regret for the whole side of life he’d rejected. He’d escaped to the kitchen, away from the sight of her.

But then she’d appeared, looking even younger close-up, and he’d known that she’d been dangerous to his peace of mind. He’d assumed an air of lofty indifference, talking to her with one eye still on his book, as though he hadn’t been able to tear himself away, although the truth had been that every fibre of him had been aware of her.

He’d have liked to believe her claim of being nineteen, but her air of bravado had given her away. She’d flirted like a kid, crossing her beautiful legs on the table near him, and saying she liked older men in a ‘come hither’ voice that would have finished him but for his stern resolutions. His advice to ‘go back to your party, pretty little girl’ had been an act of desperation.