And his clothes… He’d hauled off his sweater before they’d gone into Theatre but she’d been too rushed to notice, and then he’d put on a theatre gown. Now she was seeing his clothes for the first time.

They were…unexpected, to say the least. He was wearing faded, hip-hugging jeans and a bright white T-shirt with a black motif. The motif said:

‘You’ve been a bad, bad girl. Go straight to my room.’

She blinked and blinked again. Then she grinned. This wasn’t her standard image of a successful young surgeon. It was a rude, crude T-shirt. It shouldn’t make her lips twitch.

‘What?’ he demanded, and her smile widened.

‘I was thinking I shouldn’t be in the same room as you-with that on.’ She motioned to his T-shirt.

Damn. He’d forgotten he was wearing it. His father had given it to him for his birthday… Good old Dad, still trying to get his son moving in the wife department…

Fat chance.

But Amy had moved on. ‘I need to talk to Jeff,’ she said, and crossed to the door.

Joss frowned. ‘I need to find him, too. He’s looking after my dog. Or did one of your residents take him?’

‘Lionel has him.’ Her eyes creased into the smile he was starting to recognise. ‘I saw him. Actually, I’ve heard about him, too. I thought he was much larger than he really is.’

‘Have you been talking to my stepmother?’

Amy assumed an air of innocence. ‘I might have been.’

He sighed. ‘According to Daisy, he’s the size of an elephant. That’s because Bertram takes exception to anyone else sitting on my knee-and her dratted Peke decided it would grace me with its favours.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘As you say.’ He shook off the light-headedness he was feeling. Was it the crash? Or…was it just the way she made him feel? Like he ought to get the conversation back to medicine-fast.

‘Sergeant Packer and I could find no sign of identification at all in the mother’s truck. But he is able to run a plate check. We’re hoping we can find out who she is that way.’