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‘Absolutely.’ He was arrogantly sure of himself, typically Mark. ‘You’ll love it, Holly. June in Cornwall is wonderful. Sea, sand, sailing...’
Tempting images filled her head and her eyes drifted to the window of her small rented flat which gave a bird’s-eye view across the crowded, car-jammed streets of North London. She hadn’t even thought about moving away. She frowned down at the stationary traffic locked bumper to bumper on the busy main road as people started the battle to get to work. But maybe that was the answer. Maybe if she moved, she’d leave the memories behind. Maybe, if she wasn’t in London, she’d be able to sleep again.
‘Just say, for the sake of argument, I uprooted myself and moved to Cornwall,’ she said cautiously. ‘It still wouldn’t work. You and me pretending to be engaged, I mean.’
‘Why wouldn’t it work?’
She felt suddenly flustered. ‘It just wouldn’t. We’ve known each other for ever and we’re not—not...’
‘What are we not?’ Mark started to laugh and, to her surprise, Holly found herself blushing. Mark had never made her blush before. Never.
‘We’re not...’ she searched for the word, feeling ridiculously embarrassed ‘...loving. I mean, we hug and things but we certainly don’t behave like lovers.’
There was a slight pause. ‘We could if we tried. We may not be lovey-dovey normally, but there’s nothing to stop us pretending.’
Holly frowned and nibbled her lip. Could she do that? She’d never thought of Mark as anything but a good friend. Pretending that he was her lover would be totally alien to the way she felt about him. Could she be convincing?
‘I don’t know, Mark. I’m not sure I could do it.’
There was a pause. ‘Why not?’
He never took no for an answer!
Holly chewed her lower lip. ‘Because I’m not in love with you, for a start!’
‘Thanks, Holly!’ Mark’s voice was dry and tinged with humour. ‘First you say I’m not your type, then you say you don’t love me. You ce
rtainly know how to puncture a man’s ego, I’ll give you that.’
‘Don’t be silly. I love you as a friend, of course I do, but I don’t...’ Holly paused as she tried to explain. ‘I don’t love you romantically.’
‘Well, who’s going to know the difference? Friends is fine,’ he said firmly. ‘We’ll just throw in a bit of touchy-feely for good measure.’
‘Touchy-feely’? What on earth did he mean, ‘touchy-feely’?
Holly twisted the phone cord round her slim fingers, still feeling uneasy about the whole thing. ‘Even if I could be convincing,’ she hedged, ‘people have known us as friends for so long they’d never believe there was anything else between us.’
‘Our friends in London might think that,’ Mark agreed, ‘but down here in Cornwall no one has a clue how we feel about each other so it would be easy.’
He’d obviously thought it all through.
Holly drew breath, her thoughts tangled. ‘Why do you need a fiancée anyway? You said I’d understand once you explained. So—explain.’
There was a pause and Mark cleared his throat. ‘There’s this woman—’
Holly groaned. ‘Oh, Mark, not again!!’
Whenever Mark Logan had a problem, it was always a woman. And sometimes more than one. The man attracted the opposite sex like no one else she’d ever met.
‘Damn it, Holly, it isn’t my fault!’ Suddenly Mark sounded tired and frustrated. ‘To be honest, I was trying to steer clear of women for a while. I only started this job five months ago—’
‘Mark, I know that,’ Holly said patiently. ‘I’m the mug who helped you drag all your worldly goods down to deepest Cornwall, remember?’
And after that her whole life had fallen apart, but, of course, Mark didn’t know that yet.
‘I love this practice.’ Suddenly Mark’s voice was serious. ‘I love the patients—the fact that most of them have lived here all their lives. I love the sea and the sailing. I even love the influx of tourists. Being a GP here is my dream job really.’
‘So what’s wrong?’ Holly frowned. ‘You’ve been fending women off since you were in primary school. I can’t believe you’ve got a problem you can’t handle.’
