Tempted by Dr Daisy

He propped himself up against the table next to her, hands thrust into his trouser pockets, and sighed quietly.

‘I think we need to talk about what happened last night.’

‘Nothing happened last night.’

His laugh was low and mocking. ‘Get real, Daisy. We were that close.’ He held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger almost touching, and she felt heat pooling in her at the memory.

She made herself meet his eyes, and then regretted it, because they were glittering with an intensity that should have terrified her.

It did terrify her.

She looked away. ‘Well, spit it out, then, because you’ve obviously got something to get off your chest,’ she said briskly, and she felt the huff of his quiet laugh against her cheek.

‘It’s—complicated.’

She gave a derisive snort and straightened one of the lily stems. ‘The last man to say that told me he was going back to his wife and family,’ she said drily, and he found himself wondering about the bastard who’d hurt her.

‘I’m not going to say that, exactly.’

She felt relief try and break free, but sensed it was a little early and squashed it. And that ‘exactly’ was hanging in the air like an unexploded bomb. ‘So what are you saying, exactly?’ she prompted. ‘That you’re my boss and it’s a bad idea? You’re divorced? We’re neighbours? I’ve already worked all that out, and I absolutely agree.’

‘I have a daughter,’ he said, dropping the bombshell of all bombshells without preamble. ‘She’s nearly three, and she’s called Florence. That’s why I’m here, why I’m in Yoxburgh. My ex moved back to be near her family and friends, and I’ve followed.’

Here we go again, she thought, and her heart sank. ‘Because you want to get back with her and she won’t play ball?’