The Playboy Doctor. Sarah Morgan

of patients who’d booked to see him. ‘It won’t be the first time, trust me.’

      She could well believe that. Women had always behaved really foolishly around Seb, and it was fairly easy to see why. He was rich and breathtakingly good-looking—qualities enough for most women.

      But not her. She knew better.

      ‘All right, then, I’ll leave you to get on with your surgery. If you have any problems during your surgery, press the top right-hand button on the phone—it connects with my room.’

      She gave Seb a brief nod and left the room, eager to get on with her own surgery.

      Her first patient was Vera Peters, an eighty-two-year-old lady whom she saw from time to time with minor illnesses.

      ‘Hello, Mrs Peters, have a seat.’ She greeted the old lady warmly, wondering what the problem was. There were no clues in the notes. ‘What can I do for you today?’

      ‘My skin has flared up again,’ Mrs Peters grumbled, ‘It’s really causing me problems.’

      Joanna examined her carefully and gave a nod. ‘I can give you some cream for that,’ she said quickly, tapping away at the computer. After a few moments a prescription issued from the printer.

      ‘Well, that was simple,’ the old lady muttered, taking the prescription with a nod of thanks. ‘I wish you could do something about my John as easily as that.’

      ‘John? Your husband?’ Joanna knew that the couple lived in one of the flats on the edge of the village. From what she knew, they seemed to manage very well. ‘What’s the matter with him, Mrs Peters?’

      ‘He’s stealing,’ Vera Peters said crossly, clutching her handbag firmly on her lap and pursing her lips. ‘That’s what’s wrong. He’s stealing everything in sight.’

      ‘Stealing?’ Joanna looked at her in astonishment, surprised by the violence in the old lady’s voice as much as by what she was saying. She’d always thought of her as a very gentle sort, the last person in the world to be aggressive. ‘What’s he stealing, Mrs Peters?’

      ‘Things that aren’t his.’ Her fingers tightened on the handbag. ‘Last week he took my handbag, this week it’s my coat. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t notice, with the weather being so hot, but he was wrong! I did notice.’

      At least the man wasn’t on the rampage in the local shops.

      Joanna cleared her throat, trying to clarify what she’d just heard. ‘So you’re saying that your husband is stealing things from you?’

      ‘Yes!’ Vera glared at Joanna and then thumped her fist on the desk. ‘And it’s got to stop. And it’s not just stealing. Sometimes he moves things just to annoy me.’

      Sensing that the old woman was very upset, Joanna reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze, her voice gentle. ‘What does he move, Mrs Peters?’