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The table decorations were simple but effective: huge square-cut crystal vases on each table filled with twelve long-stemmed white roses tied with a large cream organza bow. The tablecloths were black, as were the napkins. It was without doubt the most elegant affair that Flick had attended and she was very happy she had worn a dress befitting the event.

A delicious salmon entrée was followed by a main course of lamb in red-wine jus. When the plates from the second course were being collected, Flick tried not to appear obvious as she looked around the room for Tristan. She had not seen him when she’d arrived for pre-dinner drinks, neither could she find him in the sea of elegantly clad guests when everyone was seated. Her heart sank a little and she surmised that it was more than likely he had been called to an emergency at the hospital. She was surprised when a wave of disappointment washed over her and threatened to dampen the entire evening.

He was all she’d been able to think of while she’d showered, dressed and applied her make-up and during the limousine drive to the ball. While being attracted to him was a little exciting, the thought of acting on it scared her to the core. But something was still drawing her to him despite being scared. It was an odd feeling, one she had definitely never experienced before.

Flick suddenly felt fabric brush across her back and assumed it was the waiter bringing more wine.

‘No, thank, you. One glass is enough for me,’ she said, placing her hand over the rim of the glass.

‘I’ll remember that, Flick. Now you’ve cleared it up, I won’t randomly pour wine into your glass each time I pass by you.’

Flick recognised Tristan’s voice from the time they had spent together that afternoon and she turned to find him smiling down at her, all six feet two of him dressed in black. While in his scrubs at work he was undeniably attractive and the near-naked, swimsuit look that morning had been amazing, her breath was stolen when she saw him in his black tuxedo. The crisp white shirt exaggerated his tan further and his jaw was freshly shaven. She even noticed the platinum and black cufflinks and his highly polished patent-leather shoes. He was a vision of a male model, only better. And the scent of his cologne made her very aware of just how close he was to her.

‘I hope you’re enjoying the evening.’

‘Very much,’ she replied, still absorbing just how handsome and how close he was to her. ‘And you, are you having a nice time?’

He nodded his response, acknowledged the others at the table and then walked away without saying anything more. Flick looked ravishing and it validated his earlier decision to arrive late to the event. When he’d left her apartment that afternoon he’d known that his attraction to her was undeniably strong. And nothing good would come of it. But while he didn’t want to become involved, he couldn’t stay away. As he had sat on his bed, looking at his tuxedo hanging on the door, he’d told himself firmly to step back. Let Flick meet another man that night. There would be a number of eligible doctors who could give her what he couldn’t.

But then, looking at his watch and knowing the evening would be over soon, his feet hit the floor and he grabbed his suit. There was no turning back.

Flick was surprised and a little disappointed when Tristan left so quickly but imagined there were a lot of VIPs he needed to rub shoulders with at an event of this scale.

She noticed his table wasn’t far from the podium at the front of the ballroom.

‘Flick?’ Sophia leant in and whispered, with one eyebrow raised as she studied her friend’s face.

Flick smiled back nervously.

‘When did the most eligible but elusive cardiothoracic surgeon at the Victoria start calling you Flick and not Felicia or Midwife Lawrence?’

‘This morning, at the beach,’ Flick answered quickly, then, changing the subject, she reached for the menu. ‘I wonder what’s for the main course?’

‘We just finished main course,’ Sophia said, as she gently eased the glossy menu from Flick’s fingers and dropped her voice again. ‘At the beach this morning? You didn’t mention anything on the drive here tonight. What exactly happened? You’re not getting out of this one that easily, Flick. I confide in you and you keep your rendezvous with Dr Oh-My-God Gorgeous to yourself.’

Flick turned to Sophia and in an equally quiet voice responded, ‘I was walking on the beach, he was jogging, we started talking and he had coffee with me on my balcony. End of story.’

‘Excuse me … end of story? I don’t think so. I think it’s just the beginning. I saw the look in his eyes. It’s so obvious he has the biggest crush on you. So you, my single, gorgeous friend, are going over to his table right now to pick up where you left off this morning.’

‘I can’t leave you alone,’ she argued, as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

‘Flick, I know a zillion people in the room. So you’re not leaving me alone.’

‘But Oliver Evans has just sat down with him. I’m not about to interrupt their discussion. It’s probably something quite important and of a serious medical nature.’

‘And that is exactly why you are going over to rescue Tristan from a long-winded medical discussion at a social event. He can chat about all things medical tomorrow. Tonight he should be having fun and so should you. How often do we get to let our hair down and enjoy ourselves?’

‘I’m not sure, Sophia.’

Looking straight into her friend’s eyes, Sophia smiled. ‘Believe me, he needs saving. You’re the only one who can do it! Stop hiding away, Flick. You have to grab life with both hands.’

Sophia’s words struck a chord, and reminded her of her sister’s phone call that morning, but it was the feeling stirring inside her that made Flick rise from her chair. ‘I hope I don’t regret this.’

Sophia rested back in her chair and took a sip of her wine as she watched Flick make her way to Tristan’s table. ‘I’ve got a feeling you won’t regret anything about tonight, Flick Lawrence,’ she muttered.

Tristan’s face lit up as Flick approached and his elated expression wasn’t lost on Oliver.

‘I think I’m needed back at my table,’ Oliver said as he stood to leave. ‘I’ll catch you in your office tomorrow, Tristan. Enjoy your evening.’ He smiled at Flick before he walked away.

‘I hope I didn’t scare Dr Evans away.’

‘Flick, this is a compliment and I hope you take it that way. You couldn’t scare a mouse, let alone Oliver Evans. He wouldn’t run from a stunning woman. He’s being polite in leaving and I will thank him for it tomorrow.’

Flick blushed as Tristan pulled out a chair for her next to him.

As they chatted over the fine wine and the key lime dessert that arrived a short time later, she found she had his complete attention and he had hers. Then later, as she rested back against his strong hand in the curve of her spine as he guided her effortlessly around the dance floor, she felt there was definitely more than just a professional connection between them. There was chemistry and sparks. Everything that had been missing with the men who had held her before was obvious in Tristan’s touch. He was bringing her body alive with little effort.

‘Would you allow me to drive you home tonight?’ he whispered, as she rested her head on his shoulder during a slow number. ‘Or do you have a limousine booked?’

Flick had seen Sophia leave the ball half an hour before. Her friend had waved and sneaked out early, and Flick felt so deliciously comfortable she didn’t lift her head as she spoke. ‘There’s no limousine. I would love you to take me home.’

‘It was a wonderful night,’ Flick said casually as she waited with Tristan for the valet to bring his car.

‘Yes, it was so much more than I had expected.’ His voice didn’t give away too much, neither did his eyes, as the car arrived and he opened her door and waited for her to climb in. After she lifted the hem of her dress inside, he closed it again and went to the driver’s side. He tipped the valet and took off into the night with her.

She considered his handsome profile for a moment and was curious if the entire evening had been an improvement on what he had envisaged or if it was spending time with her that had lifted the night. She wasn’t sure why she hoped it was their time together as she barely knew the man driving her home but there was something special about him.

Flick smiled and looked from the passenger window at the people walking along the still busy Melbourne city street to their cars. Many had obviously attended the same grand event that they had just left. The men were all in tuxedos while the women wore varied styles. Some had chosen floor-length gowns while a number of the younger female guests had chosen stunning cocktail dresses that skimmed their knees. All of them looked gorgeous with their sparkling jewellery and beautifully styled hair. Flick loved the glamorous feeling of the evening.

She felt a little like Cinderella but she hadn’t run anywhere at midnight; instead she was being driven home by a gorgeous and intriguing surgeon. She was glad the darkness of the car masked the colour that rushed to her cheeks.

‘I’m very glad you came over to my table.’

‘It was Sophia’s idea. She said you two looked much too serious and were probably discussing the latest in vitro surgical procedure and, although that in itself is incredibly important, she thought tonight should be about fun. I honestly didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘So it wasn’t your idea?’ he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘Now I get the picture. Sophia forced you to sit with me?’

‘Gosh, it did sound that way, didn’t it?’ She laughed. ‘It’s as if I’m making Sophia take responsibility for my actions and I’m not. I did want to spend some time with you.’ Flick suddenly felt comfortable enough to be honest. It may have been fate or an accident that had brought them together that morning, but that evening, she had admitted, was of her doing.

‘Whatever the catalyst, I’m glad you did.’ His voice was deep and husky and eyes left the road and lingered on Flick long enough to make her heart skip a beat. ‘And thank you for inviting me up for coffee on your balcony.’

‘You mean my slightly shabby herb-filled ledge!’

Tristan smiled at her. He doubted that she realised how beautiful she really was and how captivating he found her. ‘Let’s agree it might be small but in terms of view it’s a perfectly positioned balcony.’

Flick smiled nervously. She had never felt drawn to a man so quickly. The chemistry was both unexpected and undeniable and made her pulse quicken and her stomach fill with butterflies. He had always been aloof when she had passed him in the hospital corridors. There was no doubting how attractive he was but he’d seemed distant. Flick hadn’t taken it personally as she’d surmised a role such as a neonatal cardiothoracic surgeon would be high pressured and he probably didn’t even see the medical staff around him at times, let alone a student midwife on placement, who randomly popped into the hospital between home visits.

She’d try not to think about him after he left her sight when she returned to MMU but she knew the nurses and midwives all spoke about him. Many had crushes from a distance but none appeared to have had first-hand experience. She admired him for keeping his personal and professional life discreet and separate.

But as she sat beside him in the privacy of his car, she didn’t want to think about the hospital, the midwives, or whether he had a little black book. Instead, she channelled Megan’s words. Tonight would be hers. It was time she took a risk.

Tristan’s gaze was very intense, his mouth only inches from hers when he said goodnight to her. The chemistry between them was electric and couldn’t be ignored. The gentleman in him had insisted on parking his car and taking the stairs with her to her door. Then the gentleman was no longer when, without warning, and without resistance, he took possession of her lips and then her willing body. When Flick fumbled with the keys, Tristan took control and opened the door, scooped her up in his powerful arms and then kicked the door closed with his foot. With his mouth still hungering for hers, he carried her through her streetlamp-lit apartment to her bedroom.

With desire steering every move of his skilful hands, he unzipped her dress and threw it to the floor. His kisses trailed from her mouth down her bare neck as he laid her on the bed. Standing before her, he removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned his shirt, all the while admiring the beautiful, nearly naked woman now reaching for him. His tanned torso was bare and Flick’s fingers needed no encouragement to explore his warm, firm skin as together they removed the rest of his clothes and then her strapless black lingerie.

Tristan was in no hurry as he gently lay down with her in the softness of her bed. His hands took their time slowly roaming her eager body, bringing her to a peak then letting her desire settle for the shortest time before teasing her back to the brink. Flick had never been so ready and so sure of anything when he finally took her and they became one for the first time that night.

The morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains and found Flick lying naked in her bed with Tristan asleep beside her. She was happier than she could ever remember. But also unsettled when she realised the enormity and repercussions of what she had done. She had slept with Tristan on the first night. It had been amazing and he was a wonderful lover in every way.

The feeling of his skilful hands caressing her body had filled her senses and fought with her doubts that it was too soon. They should have waited, her practical side told her. Her mind was spinning as she slipped from the warmth of her bed and into the shower. She needed space. Room to gather her thoughts without the scent of Tristan lying beside her and making her have crazy, romantic thoughts about the way he had made love to her. The way no man had ever done before.

The warm water felt good as it washed over her body and she tried to make sense of what had seemed natural only hours before. Rushing in so impulsively was nothing that Flick ever did but when he’d kissed her at the door she’d been unable to resist him. She just needed a few moments alone to sort out how she felt about the night … and the man still lying in her bed.

Tristan woke and reached out for Flick but he was alone. He could hear the water running in the bathroom. He wondered if it was his cue to leave; to disappear without any uncomfortable goodbye. It wasn’t how he wanted their time together to end and it seemed out of character for Flick. Even though they had spent less than twenty-four hours together, he felt that he knew her enough to say that taking a man home on the first night was not something she did often.

He lifted his hands behind his head and lay in the warmth of her sheets, thinking back over the night. It had been amazing and he wished it could be the beginning of something deeper between them but he couldn’t do that to her. He would end it as quickly as it had begun, just the way he always did. But this time it felt different.

As he slowly lifted his head from her pillow and climbed from the bed, he felt a sudden ache inside for what he was ending so abruptly. He paused and looked back at the crumpled bed where Flick had been lying and he felt a strange feeling of regret. This was nothing like other mornings when he left a woman’s bed. This time he was fighting the urge to stay and if she walked out of the bathroom, with or without her towel and smiled her gorgeous warm smile, he knew he would not leave. This time he wanted to stay.

But she didn’t come out. The shower was not running but she was still behind the door. He wasn’t sure if she really did want him to go. Perhaps he didn’t know her the way he thought.

And perhaps it was for the best.

He wasn’t looking for long term. He was fooling himself to think he could make it more than what it was. It wouldn’t be fair to Flick to let her think he intended pursuing a relationship, and marriage would never be on the table. Tristan had good reason for not considering himself husband material but he wasn’t about to share that with a woman after only one night, no matter how amazing the night had been and how he thought he felt about her. His reasons were solid and not negotiable.

Her diplomatic disappearance under the shower made Tristan think that she didn’t want an awkward morning-after goodbye. But knowing she was within arm’s reach behind a thin wooden door tugged at a place deep inside Tristan. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before. He looked around her apartment, knowing he would never be there again. Yesterday had been different. His visit had been casual but now they had crossed the line there was no way he would ever return.

One night would be all they would share. One breath-taking night, his body reminded him as he stepped over the sea of clothes that lay strewn over the wooden floor. Her expensive dress entwined with his tuxedo just as their bodies had all night. Collecting his belongings, Tristan dressed quickly. He picked up his keys and after slipping them in his trouser pocket, along with his mobile phone, he left. The bathroom door opened just as he quietly closed the front door and made his way down the steps to his car.

Pausing for a moment to look back up at Flick’s apartment, Tristan breathed a heartfelt sigh. He wished that life could be different and he could have stayed in the softness of her bed, wrap his arms around her naked body and persuade her to see if what they had could be more than just one night.

But one night was all he could offer.

And it appeared it was all she wanted.

Flick stepped out of the bathroom. Finally her heart had won over her head in the steam-filled room. Maybe, just maybe they could make something more from their crazy, wonderful night. Perhaps she could learn to trust him and let him into her life despite the way they’d rushed into sleeping together. She was willing to try and she wanted to tell him just that as she slipped back into his arms. Her freshly scrubbed face was lit with the promise of what they might share.

Her stomach sank as she looked at the bed. It was empty. She looked around the room. Tristan’s clothes, his keys, all sign of him had gone. He had left, without any goodbye; he had just climbed from her bed and walked out of her apartment.

His action spoke louder than any words ever could. There was no tomorrow to plan—nothing more to talk about. Clearly for him it had just been for one night.

CHAPTER ONE

TRISTAN SIPPED HIS coffee as he looked from the window of his third floor office at the Victoria. He had returned from early morning rounds and had an hour before his surgical schedule began.

His mind wandered for a moment back to Flick, just as it had every day for the previous three months. He had hoped that as time passed so would his feelings, but they hadn’t. Ninety-one days and nights had not erased or even paled what they’d shared that one night together. She was different from any woman he had ever met. She was sweet and funny and desirable. Everything he could want in a woman and then some. But he couldn’t be with her, not even for one more night. He was scared that if he caved in to his feelings then he would never want to leave.

Sometimes thoughts of her came to him when he lay down in bed at night, exhausted from a long day’s surgery. Lying on his back on the cool cotton sheets, his arms above his head as he stared into the darkness and thought back to that night. The hum of the ceiling fan gently moved the heavy night air but it didn’t shift his thoughts. Nor his regrets. His mind was consumed with the memory of the hunger and desire they’d had for each other. And he pictured Flick’s beautiful smile. A smile that had lit up the ballroom on that night as they’d sat talking for hours, the sparkle in her eyes as he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor, and the passion that they’d shared in her bed all haunted him before he finally succumbed to sleep. And even in his dreams she would appear some nights.

Dreams that felt so real he could touch the softness of her skin. And taste the sweetness of her mouth.

But Tristan knew that it had had to end before it had begun. He couldn’t pursue a relationship. Flick deserved better. Although they didn’t speak of her future goals and dreams outside her career, her profession made him feel sure one day she would want a family, and a family was the one thing he couldn’t give her.

He looked over at the family photo on his desk. His medical graduation. It had been a day with more meaning to him and his mother and father than to many other graduates. It had been the first step on his journey to becoming a neonatal cardiothoracic surgeon. A journey he had chosen at sixteen when he’d received his heart transplant after spending years wrapped in cotton wool as his name had moved slowly up a waiting list. His mother was beaming in the photograph and his father wore a strained smile. His mother was thrilled that Tristan was alive to live his dream, his father worn down by years of worry.

More study had been ahead but Tristan had never doubted his path and finally he’d qualified. He’d become a heart surgeon who was also a heart transplant recipient and he’d wanted to specialise in neonatal heart surgery.

Tristan was determined to surgically alter the course of seriously ill newborn babies’ lives. Giving them a chance for a regular childhood, something he’d never enjoyed. It was his contact with children with whom he felt a bond and it satisfied his paternal longings. He had decided early in his studies that he would never have a child to call his own. With his medical history and the dire genetic inheritance for any future children, it wasn’t worth the risk.

His thoughts returned to Flick. He had to be cruel to be kind. One day she would meet a man who could provide her with everything she wanted and deserved, and Tristan did not want to stand in the way of her happiness. She might hate him now but keeping his distance would allow her to meet the right man. Someone who could give her a perfect life. But at least he would always have that one night they’d shared. A night he never wanted to forget.

The beeping of his pager brought Tristan back to reality. He looked down at the details then put a call through to the emergency department.

‘Tristan Hamilton. I received your page.’

‘Dr Hamilton, transferring you now to the A and E surgical resident,’ the young female voice replied, before putting him on hold for a moment.

‘Tristan, it’s Dylan Spencer. A patient presented in Cas ten minutes ago in first-stage labour, gestational age approximately thirty-seven weeks. On examination she revealed that she’s been monitored for the congenital heart disease of her unborn son—transposition of the great arteries. I didn’t want to let labour progress without your advice.’

‘Any other history?’ Tristan asked, concern colouring his voice. ‘Who provided the antenatal care?’

‘Her husband says they were notified of TGA at the twenty-week scan and his wife has been under the care of Dr Hopkins, the neonatal cardiologist at Sydney Eastern Memorial.’

‘What are they doing in Melbourne?’

‘Family gathering. Drove down for her aunt’s birthday or something like that.’

Tristan shook his head but did not voice his opinion. Transposition of the great arteries was a life-threatening condition for the baby and travelling so close to term was, in his mind, not the most sensible decision or one that he imagined would have been condoned by their specialist. The patient was fortunate labour had not begun on the journey.

‘I’ll put a call through to Nate Hopkins, but in the meantime please call OR and have them contact the obstetric resident, prep for an emergency C-section and then prepare the adjacent Theatre for a neonate balloon atrial septostomy. You’re right, we can’t allow labour to progress without intervention. The infant may not survive the birth canal.’

Tristan had just ended his call to the Sydney neonatal cardiologist when the scrub nurse arrived at his office door with A and E medical records in hand.

‘Dr Hamilton, here’s the notes for the emergency delivery.’

Tristan was already on his feet and heading towards the door, where he took possession of the medical records and slipped his own notes from the phone call inside.

‘They estimate from the previous ultrasound the baby may be close to six pounds,’ she informed him as they made their way towards the lifts.

‘How’s the mother?’

‘She’s holding up well. The epidural was administered but she’s still somewhere between shock and denial that she’s about to have her baby. Sophia, a community midwife from MMU, is in there with her, along with her student placement, Flick. They’re providing some emotional support while the obstetrician prepares for the C-section.’

Tristan flinched a little when she mentioned Flick. Just the mention of her name brought his still raw feelings rushing to the surface again. He had to pretend their night together hadn’t happened until one day he could forget it actually had. He would never allow himself to fall in love. Not with Flick or any other woman. Up until now that hadn’t been difficult but something about her had got under his skin and was causing him to lose sleep.

The lift doors opened and they both stepped inside.

‘As you instructed, the radiographer and paediatric anaesthetist are scrubbing in in the adjacent Theatre now in preparation for the atrial septostomy.’

They entered the empty lift and headed down to Theatre quickly and in silence as Tristan read the examination observations on the way.

The Theatre nurse met them as the lift doors opened and walked them to the scrub room. ‘Dr Hamilton, the father is waiting to speak with you but I explained that would be after the delivery when you have assessed their son and can provide a more accurate prognosis.’ Her voice was calm yet firm, her years of experience evident. ‘Both parents are aware that major surgery will be needed in the next few days for their son. The paediatric resident discussed the need for the immediate atrial septostomy with Mr Roberts, the child’s father, and obtained signed permission. And by the way, we have a medical student in Theatre to observe today.’

Tristan nodded as he scrubbed and gowned and entered the operating Theatre. Everything had been prepared for the emergency procedure on the newborn infant. The slightly nervous but very eager-looking medical student had also scrubbed in and was waiting in the Theatre, his expression close to that of a deer in headlights.

‘Tristan Hamilton, neonatal cardiothoracic surgeon,’ Tristan introduced himself as he checked the sterile surgical tray. He knew that everything would be in order as the Theatre team was second to none in detail and process, but it had been a ritual since medical school and one he never omitted.

‘Jon Clarke, third-year med student. I’ve heard so much about you and hope to specialise in paediatric cardiology but I’m keeping my options open.’

‘Welcome aboard, Jon,’ Tristan replied, keeping an eye on the doors to the Theatre and the impending arrival of the newborn patient. ‘In a few minutes we will have a neonate, approximately thirty-seven weeks with a transposition of the great arteries. As I’m sure you are aware, the natural history of untreated transposition of the great vessels in the neonate was quite poor but has improved dramatically. Surgical correction has been possible for over fifty years now with an arterial switch procedure that’s considerably lowered mortality rates.

‘I’ll be scheduling that surgery within the next two days but we need earlier intervention to ensure immediate survival so shortly I’ll undertake a nonsurgical procedure to create an arterial septal defect, using a balloon catheter. Essentially we will open a small hole in the heart to allow the blue and red blood to mix and provide sufficient oxygen to the newborn.’

‘How did you diagnose the condition so quickly?’ Jon asked with interest.

‘The mother has been under the care of Dr Nate Hopkins in Sydney. He’d planned the C-section for next week but they travelled here yesterday for some family function and labour ensued. The condition was detected at the twenty-week scan. Thank God she didn’t go into labour somewhere along the Hume Highway or we might not have had the same prognosis for mother or child.’

Just then the swing doors opened and the tiny child was wheeled in on open bed. Tristan looked up to see Flick standing in scrubs beside the infant. He caught her glance and held it. He couldn’t ignore the look of pain and disappointment in her beautiful blue eyes. But there was no anger. That seemed worse to him. He fought the strongest urge to throw his gloves, gown and surgical cap to the floor and pull her into his arms. But he reminded himself sternly that it was not himself that he was protecting. It was her.

‘The vernix has been wiped clear from his abdomen and suction of mouth and nasal cavity done,’ Flick said, as she handed over the care of the baby, wrapped loosely in green sterile sheeting, to the Theatre nurse, then left without looking back.

Tristan hated that it was over between them and that one night would be all they ever shared, but there was no other way, he reminded himself as he refocused on the tiny child who now needed him. An infant who would be facing a childhood much like his own if this surgery was not successful.