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'That's nice, since she doesn't have a father,' Lisa found herself saying without thinking, recognizing the tinge of bitterness in her own voice.

'You could remedy that, perhaps,' Marcus said quietly. 'She
does
have a father.'

Lisa felt her face become stiff, her pleasure at seeing him erased. 'No, I couldn't, Dr Blair,' she blurted. 'You don't know the details. It's none of your business really, is it?'

They faced each other in stunned silence. Marcus's face was impassive, his mouth set in a stern line.

'You're right,' he said at last, his voice neutral. 'It is none of my business. I just happen to believe that a child needs a father.'

'You think I don't?' she demanded quietly, her voice breaking. 'You think that I don't agonize over it every day of my life?' Things seemed to be going wrong between them, and quite suddenly Lisa found that she wanted to weep. Why on earth had she said that? It was ridiculous that they should be almost quarrelling when he had been in her house for about three minutes.

'I don't know what you think, Lisa,' he said, some of his tiredness showing through as he regarded her thoughtfully. 'I hope you'll tell me.. .some time, if not now.'

Although Lisa's throat felt tight with tension she managed to get the words out. 'I've decided that an unhappy mother is worse for a child than no father,' she said, putting into words, really for the first time, what had been gradually formulating in her mind over the last months. 'Wondering where he is all the time, who he's with... and why. He would be inadequate in the role. He's not just
some
lovable guy who can't wait to be a father.'

'Hmm. .. I hope you'll let me see her, anyway.'

'She's in the sitting room,' Lisa said bluntly after several awkward moments, gesturing towards the room.

At the sight of a strange man Emma immediately lapsed into silence and stopped waving her arms and legs as she lay on her back in the centre of the playpen. Her large, luminous blue eyes moved from Marcus's face to Lisa's and back again. Her mass of fine, dark auburn hair contrasted well with her creamy skin that was glowing with health.

With clenched hands, Lisa stood back a little while the man with her, who was beginning to feel like a stranger to her, looked down at her child.

'She's lovely,' he said quietly, the words bringing stinging tears to Lisa's eyes. Hastily she blinked several times. She hadn't realized that her emotions were so close to the surface, that she could blow up so easily—she would have to watch that. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for her, especially when she didn't feel sorry for herself.. .just lonely right now. She would get over it.

Emma wore a pale yellow romper suit and looked utterly adorable.

'Hi, there,' Marcus murmured, looking down at the baby. Lisa found her eyes drawn to his face. There was an intentness, a wistfulness, in his expression that made her feel intuitively, in spite of her anger with him, that he longed for children.

'May I pick her up?' he said.

'Yes.'

As he bent to pick up the child Lisa quietly watched them. At close quarters, as he held her in his arms, Emma also sized up the man sombrely, her eyes roving over his face. The action had the effect of lightening the mood between the two adults.

'Babies don't give their affections lightly to strangers.' Lisa smiled slightly. This should be Emma's father holding her now.

'Very sensible,' he murmured, tenderness in his voice. 'A very good survival tactic.' He looked even bigger and more masculine, holding the tiny scrap of humanity in his arms. 'Perhaps,' he added, 'adults should be more careful in that regard. Hmm?'

The look he gave her was candid, a cynical twist on his sensual mouth contrasting with the tenderness with which he held her baby.

'Are you alluding to me?' she asked. Anger mingled with a bitter sense of loss for the empathy he had displayed to her when she had been bleeding in the emergency department.

'To both of us,' he said enigmatically. In his glance there seemed to be many unspoken questions that at the moment she dared not interpret. 'Here... I think she wants you now. A baby is such a positive thing. Everything else seems trivial by comparison.'

As he handed over Emma her hand touched his, the contact like a touch of fire. She knew that she longed for male company, at the same time realizing that the experience of childbirth, of being a mother, had left her very sober in spirits, almost cynical. Never again would she be a push-over for a man and let her emotional and physical needs rule her head. Anyway, she didn't know how to deal with the very attractive, sophisticated Dr Marcus Blair—even if he were not out of bounds for her.

Was he judging her? Perhaps testing her capabilities as a mother? It was difficult not to get defensive at times when you were a single mother—not to assume that the world was judging you.

'She's just about ready to go to sleep, I think,' Lisa said, wanting to distance herself from him as she left the room.

'I hope I haven't interrupted anything, Lisa,' he said smoothly when she came back, as he stood casually in the centre of the room with his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

There was tension in the room. She wasn't sure whether it emanated from her alone. 'I called you because a woman threatened me today as I was leaving the hospital to come home.' She plunged right into the story. 'She said she knew you, that she.. .that she was in love with you, that you loved her and that I was to stay away from you.. .or something like that.' Then she added, in an attempt at humour, 'I thought it was a bit presumptuous of her, actually.'

Marcus's expression changed to one of rueful cynicism. 'Hell!' he said. 'Bloody hell! It's starting all over again.' With a weary gesture, he passed a hand over his eyes. 'Long blonde hair, dyed? Lots of make-up? Thirty-something?'

'Yes.'

'Who else?' he said tiredly, as though to himself. 'I'm sorry, Lisa, that this has happened to you, more sorry than I can possibly say. We'd better sit down... Do you mind? You can tell me what happened, then I can tell my side of it. This is going to take some time. It's a long, convoluted story.'

'You obviously know her,' she commented ruefully, chiding herself for her sense of sharp disappointment. After all, what was Marcus Blair to her or she to him?

'I wish to hell I could say otherwise,' he said harshly. 'She's been the bane of my life over the past four years.'

'Let me make us some coffee,' Lisa offered. 'Or would you prefer a whisky and soda.. .or something?'

In the end they each had a small whisky and soda, followed by coffee. As she prepared the drinks Lisa felt sick with apprehension.

Side by side, one at each end, on the large, comfortable old sofa in her sitting room they sipped their drinks while she told him what had happened that afternoon.

'Do you want to hear the whole story?' Marcus asked. 'I won't bore you with it if you'd rather not.'

'Tell me, please. I don't even know her name—she wouldn't give it to me.' At close quarters she observed him.. .and wished they could talk about something else.

'Her name's Charlene Damero. At least, that's the name she goes by. I think it's not her real name,' Marcus said, and leaned back against the sofa with one arm behind his head and the other holding his glass, his long legs stretched out.

'I'll get through it as quickly as I can. Four years ago I was working in an emergency department here in Gresham. Ms Damero came in as a patient one evening, complaining of severe pain in her breasts. She'd had an operation on her breasts shortly before that, a breast augmentation with implants—the saline variety, not the silicone—purely cosmetic. It's quite common, as you know, for the breast tissue to form very tight scars around the implants, resulting in hard, very painful breasts.'

'Yes.. .'

'That's what happened to her,' Marcus went on, 'and instead of going back to her plastic surgeon during the day, as she should have done, she came into the emergency department. Because she was in pain we admitted her for observation in the emergency overnight ward.'

'I think I'm beginning to see,' Lisa said, finishing her drink and leaning forward to pour coffee for them both from the pot on the table.

'You've probably guessed it,' he said. 'Fortunately, I was never alone with her. There was always a nurse present, otherwise she might have accused me of sexual harassment when I didn't respond to her in the way that she obviously wanted. Although she was clearly in pain, she was also incredibly provocative. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that. It turned out that she had been to every emergency department in the city during the previous week. For some reason, she singled me out for special attention.' He laughed cynically. 'Because I had to touch her breasts in order to examine her, she thought I was attracted to her and—so she said—she fell in love with me. Worse, she thought I reciprocated.'

'Very tricky,' Lisa agreed.

'I disabused her of that idea very quickly. At least, I tried to. She has a peculiar, convoluted way of thinking that prevents her accepting reality. To cut a long story short, she has plagued my life for the past four years, in spite of all my efforts to avoid her. She hangs around my place of work, finds out somehow where I am. She telephones me and hangs around outside my house. I frequently have to employ security guards to prevent her ringing my doorbell.'

'Surely that kind of harassment is against the law,' Lisa ventured, horrified.

'Oh, yes. I took her to court, got a restraining order. Usually those things are directed against men who harass women.' He smiled crookedly. 'She even spent a month in prison.'

'My God! And it still goes on!'

'The prison put her off for a while, then it started up again as it had done before. She always manages to find out where I am,' he explained tiredly. 'To be honest, I can cope with it, even though it's.. .inconvenient. It's when other people get involved that the craziness of it gets to me. The police know her, of course. She's borderline mentally ill, or a psychopath, but difficult to deal with because she can function in society, can hold down a job, and so on. Our institutions would be overflowing if we were to incarcerate everyone who fell into that category.'

'Yes. I guess you have to wait until they actually commit a crime. What will you do?' Lisa commiserated.

'If she threatens you again, if she takes to hanging around the emergency department, the police will be called. The restraining order is still in effect. My dilemma is that I'm reluctant to have her imprisoned because she'll lose her job. There's no point in taking her to court all the time—she has no money to pay costs or fines.'

'How awful. I can see that it's very difficult.'

'My hope is that she'll fall for some other guy and take the heat off me. So far, it doesn't seem to be happening.'

'Has she had a lot of other plastic surgery?' Lisa asked, making an educated guess.

'She has,' he confirmed. 'Her eyelids, a nose job, lip augmentation and a chin implant, as well as liposuction of various parts of her body.'

Lisa nodded, and handed him a cup of coffee.

'Thanks. Not that I want to judge her on that—it's her life,' he said. 'If people want to make themselves more attractive that's up to them. What is pathetic is that she thinks those things will transform her in such a way that she will be loved...' He paused thoughtfully. 'There's a sadness in all this—a pathos. That's partly why she's so difficult to deal with. However, I don't for one moment underestimate her ability to be vicious, possibly dangerous.'

'No...'

'Lisa, you mustn't either. Underestimate her, that is.' Marcus slid his arm along the back of the sofa to touch her on the shoulder to emphasize his point. 'I want you to promise me that you'll let me know every time you see her, or if she telephones you. For God's sake, be careful about who gets your telephone number.'

The brief touch, like a caress, seemed a small gesture of normality in the crazy fantasy world that he was describing.

'Yes, I will. I feel for you, I really do. There must be something else that can be done?' she said, frowning in consternation, her previous annoyance gone. 'My own dilemmas seem mild by comparison. Four years! I can't imagine being harassed by someone for four years!'

'Get tough. That will be the answer. More police, more hospital security, who will take her away. They're used to guys who harass nurses, as well as women who harass doctors.' He turned to look at her. 'I'm sorry you've been drawn into this madness, Lisa,' he apologized again.

'It goes with the territory, I guess,' she mumbled.

'Needless to say, it hasn't been exactly positive for my private life. Not many women are understanding in that regard.' There was wry humour in the small smile he gave her.

'Speaking for myself, I think I'll be able to deal with it,' she said, absurdly conscious of his nearness on the sofa that tended to sag in the middle. 'It's almost laughable, in a weird sort of way.'

'I don't want you to have to deal with it, Lisa. I'll deal with it,' he said decisively, 'Call me the moment she surfaces again, if you see her first. I've no doubt that she will. Promise?'

She was forced to look at him, finding that she was nervous of doing so—nervous of his proximity, of his attractiveness. Heaven forbid that she would resemble that woman in any way and develop a crush on him that could never be assuaged.

'Promise?' he insisted again. 'Because if you don't I may have to put a bodyguard on you until I know what form her harassment is going to take this time.'

She was startled. 'Is that really necessary?'

'I hope it won't be, but I can't pretend that I'm not very concerned. You have your baby to think of, too. I feel responsible for the safety of both of you. On Monday we'll go to the hospital security people. OK?'

When she did not immediately answer, her thoughts preoccupied with the image of the garishly lipsticked mouth of the woman who had threatened her and who had looked at her with apparent hatred, Marcus touched her on the shoulder again. 'Lisa?'