Free The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell by Caroline Anderson / Janice Lynn

between her even white teeth, feeling her slender fingers brush against his chest, inhaling the scent of apples that drifted from her hair—it had been enough to kill him. And he was going to have to dance with her tonight. It would be expected, by her, by his mother, and most particularly by all the women who’d like to be in her place.
    Maybe she’d hate dancing and they could sit it out, he thought, clutching at straws, but he had a feeling Libby didn’t hate anything. She wasn’t a wild party girl by any means, but she’d enjoyed herself last night, mixed easily with his friends and family, and he just knew she’d want to dance. Not that he didn’t want to. Rather the opposite, but he just didn’t trust himself to hold her in his arms without disgracing himself.
    By the time he emerged in the long black tailcoat and white waistcoat over the satin-stripe trousers, his white bow-tie finally tied to his satisfaction, he’d managed to get himself back under control to a certain extent. ‘Right, are you OK to get ready on your own or will you need help with anything?’ he asked, hoping she’d say she could cope, and to his relief she nodded.
    ‘I’ll be fine.’
    ‘Right. I’m going to help Will. He doesn’t stand aprayer of getting into this lot on his own, and Sally will be up to her eyes. She’s organising the ball. Come down and find us—if you go down the back stairs by the kitchen, then turn left, you’ll see the door to their wing in front of you. Just bang on the door and come in when you’re done.’
    Libby nodded, and he went out and shut the door, pausing for a moment to suck in a deep breath before striding along the corridor and down to the communicating door.
    He rapped sharply and went in, to find his brother upstairs in the bedroom struggling to attach the starched shirt collar.
    ‘Here, let me,’ he said, taking over. ‘They’re an utter pain in the butt. I just got Libby to dress me. Damn Mum and her grand ideas.’
    Will laughed and relinquished the task, lounging against the wall and watching thoughtfully. ‘So—had a good day with Libby?’
    ‘Lovely,’ he said tightly, trying not to think about it. ‘Right, put this on and let’s try and do the front studs,’ he said, holding out the shirt, and Will shrugged into it and stood while he struggled with the fastenings. ‘Cockeyed, antiquated arrangement,’ he grumbled, then stood back. ‘Bow-tie?’
    ‘I can do that. Have a drink—there’s a nice malt in the kitchen.’
    ‘No. I might have to shoot off.’
    ‘You can’t!’
    ‘There’s a boy in PICU—’
    ‘When isn’t there? Ring and find out how he’s doing. Then you can relax.’
    ‘Never that straightforward, though, is it?’ hemurmured, keying in the number and checking on his little patient.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘He’s stable. No change—which is good. I’m hopeful.’
    ‘Excellent. So get yourself a drink and tell me all about Libby while I do this blasted tie up.’

CHAPTER FOUR
    S HE stared at herself in the mirror.
    It was a fabulous dress, she had to agree with Amy, but the cleavage worried her and she was concerned about the formality of the occasion. Was flesh allowed? Because there was plenty of it.
    She groaned and gave the top another little tug. If only Andrew was here and she could show it to him before she walked through the house and made an utter fool of herself, but of course he wasn’t, and he wasn’t going to be, so she shrugged, draped the oyster pink pashmina around her shoulders and flipped the end back over her left shoulder so it covered her chest, and then studied her reflection again.
    Better. More—well, less, really. She wriggled into the shoes, turned sideways for one last check for VPL, then took a deep breath and opened the door, to find Andrew on the other side, his hand poised to knock.
    ‘Ah—you’re ready,’ he said, his eyes scanning her. ‘I was just coming to check you were OK.’
    ‘Yes—well, I think so.