‘It was supposed to be a promise auction.’ Seb’s blue eyes narrowed.
‘It is, for everything else. But a night with you…Seb, this is a hospital. The debs can afford a bidding war—or, rather, their fathers can—but we need to give everyone a fair chance. That’s why we’re raffling you instead.’
‘If you’d kept it as an auction, you could’ve bid for me.’ He sighed. ‘I would have funded you to do it.’
‘You’d have bought yourself?’ Vicky snorted. ‘Oh, come on. Don’t expect me to believe that one. You love dating women. You live to party. This is you we’re talking about.’ She paused and gave him a speculative look. ‘Unless you’ve fallen in love and you’re going to settle down?’
‘Of course not. What do you think I am, stupid?’ Seb frowned ‘No. I just…Look, I hope those tickets made it clear it was one single night out and not a promise of wedding bells. And that there’s absolutely no possibility of an ongoing relationship.’
‘Seb, you’re the prize.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Everyone knows the rules.’
‘I’d prefer them spelt out, to be on the safe side.’
‘Too late. We’ve sold all the tickets. Just stop fussing, will you?’
‘I just hope you pick a ticket for someone matronly who’ll love being treated as a star for a night—a make-over, a limo, a swish meal out,’ Seb said, his mouth thinning. ‘And I’m never, ever, ever going to be suckered into doing anything like this again.’
Vicky waited a beat. ‘Seb?’
‘Yes?’
‘Stop being so grumpy, put a smile on your face, and go charm some money out of the crowd.’
Charm. It was what he was good at. And that was the point of tonight after all: raising money for hospital funds. He took a deep breath, and followed his sister’s instructions.
By the time he was halfway through the evening, Seb was enjoying himself hugely. He’d persuaded everyone to up their bids just that little bit more. He’d auctioned a professor as a household maid for a day, a charge nurse as a car valet for a week, three Indian head massages, six home-cooked dinners, one very staid head of surgery to wear a silly tie for a week, kisses—one of which he’d bought at an outrageously high price and claimed there and then on the stage, because the nurse who’d promised the kiss was seriously cute—several cakes, four make-overs, two leg-waxes and a case of champagne. The money was just pouring in for the hospital, and the room was humming with expectation and laugher and verve.
This was great. Maybe he shouldn’t have been a doctor after all. Maybe he should have been a TV presenter, with the crowds around him like this…Except there was a good chance he’d have ended up in his worst nightmare. Working with kids. Adults, yes; you knew where you stood with adults. But kids? If it was a choice between having his legs plucked—one hair at a time—and working with kids, Seb would choose the plucking. No hesitation.
He was on a high until his sister walked onto the stage with the ward’s charge nurse, Tracey Fry.
‘This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for,’ Vicky said. ‘Tonight’s raffle. A night out with the Honourable Sebastian Radley.’
There were cheers, whistles and catcalls. Seb felt his face heat and started calculating the chances of the earth opening up and swallowing him.
The odds weren’t good.
‘And the winning ticket is…’ Vicky had even managed to dredge up a drum roll from somewhere as she turned the tumbler on the drum full of tickets. Oh, he’d pay her back for that.
Tracey opened the little hatch at the top and reached into the drum. She made a big show of digging in deep. And an even bigger show of waving the folded ticket to the crowd.
He’d make her pay, too. Couldn’t they just get this over with?
Tracey unfolded the ticket. ‘Number 457,’ she announced.
There was a rustling of tickets and a general murmuring of disappointment.
Please, please, let it be someone who’d take the whole thing at face value and wouldn’t expect his undying love, Seb begged silently.
‘Alyssa Ward,’ Tracey called.
Alyssa Ward? Seb tried to put a face to the name, and failed.
‘Um, Alyssa’s not able to be here tonight,’ Tracey said.
She wasn’t here? But…Oh, she must be on duty, Seb realised. Night shift.
‘So I’ll tell her the good news in the morning,’ Tracey added.
‘Fix,’ someone called teasingly.
Fix? Sebastian didn’t like the sound of that. What did they mean, fix?
‘The ED can’t possibly win Seb for a night. He’s staff!’ someone else called.
Tracey just laughed. ‘That’s the luck of the draw. Over to you, Seb.’
He smiled sweetly and pretended to be delighted, and finished auctioning the last few promises. All the while, his mind was ticking over. Alyssa Ward? ED—emergency department—staff?
Ah, yes. Alyssa Ward. Their very serious and quiet registrar. He’d worked with her for six months now and still barely knew her. Although she came on team nights out, she always seemed to be sitting at the opposite end of a very long table. Almost, he thought, as if she was avoiding him—but, then again, if she wanted to steer clear of him, why would she have bought a ticket to win a night out with him?
Completely illogical. But that was women for you—his sister excepted. Vicky, Seb thought, was completely logical.
Well, at least he wouldn’t have to face Alyssa in the morning. He was on a late—and as she must be on nights, they wouldn’t be in the department at the same time. Which would give him a few hours to find out more about her and decide how to play this.
It was one date. And it wasn’t even a date date. It was going to be fine.
So why did he have this uneasy feeling prickling the back of his neck?
‘You are going to need full body armour before you go out there,’ Fliss told Alyssa, laughing, as Alyssa walked into the ED staffroom and headed for the coffee-machine.
‘Full body armour? Why?’
‘Because every woman in the hospital’s out for your blood today.’
‘What?’ Alyssa frowned at the nurse. ‘Sorry, Fliss, you’ve lost me completely.’
‘You won. Last night.’
Were they in a parallel universe or something? ‘Won what?’
Fliss groaned. ‘You definitely need that coffee to wake you up, Alyssa. You won the night out with Seb.’
Alyssa shook her head. ‘Not me. I didn’t buy a ticket.’
Fliss raised an eyebrow. ‘You must have done. Otherwise how could you have won?’
Alyssa folded her arms. ‘I didn’t buy a ticket. I gave Tracey a donation.’
‘Enough to buy several tickets,’ Tracey said, overhearing them and coming to join them. ‘So I put your name on a couple of tickets for you. One of them just happened to be the winner.’
Alyssa’s lip curled. ‘Well, I’m more than happy to donate the prize to somebody else.’
Seb, who’d overheard the last part of the conversation, stopped dead in the corridor. Hang on. Alyssa Ward was supposed to be on night shift—wasn’t she?
No. He’d assumed it. Assumed that anyone who’d bought a ticket would have been there