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'No,' he murmured, startling her as he caught her hands and stilled them.

Ginger bit her lip in confusion and disappointment. 'No?'

'Not yet.' The serious expression on his face worried her. 'I need to talk to you.'

'But—'

He raised her hands, pressing a kiss to each palm. 'I need to explain something to you—why my work is so important to me.'

'Later,' she suggested, suddenly nervous at what he would say, wanting to distract him from anything that might make things more difficult and complicated between them.

'No. Talk first.'

Anxious, she sat on the bed and watched him take his wallet from his pocket and set it on the nightstand. He removed a photograph, staring at it for several moments, unimaginable pain in his eyes, before he moved to sit beside her and hand her the picture. Ginger looked down at it, tensing, her breath trapped in her chest as she studied the face of a young dark-haired girl, aged around twelve, she estimated. The face was pretty but serious, and a secret lingered in eyes uncannily similar to Cameron's.

'Who is she?' Ginger managed, sensing the tightness in the masculine body beside her.

Cameron took the photo from her, his fingers trailing over the face. 'Molly. My daughter.'

'Right.' She struggled with the information, trying to come to terms with how much she didn't know about Cameron. Somehow she managed to keep her voice neutral. 'You're married?'

'Divorced. A long time ago.' Intent grey eyes looked into hers. 'I never would have been with you had I been committed elsewhere. I told you that in London.' Ginger nodded, acknowledging the truth of that, allowing him to continue. 'I met Lisa when I was a medical student in London. She worked behind the bar at a pub we all frequented. I fell for her, big time, and I thought she felt the same for me. We rushed into things. We were barely nineteen and married too young. I realised that quite quickly.'

When he hesitated, she squeezed his hand. 'Go on.'

'Lisa was desperate for a child. I was desperate to be a doctor. We argued about it but agreed to wait until I qualified and was more financially secure before starting a family—or so I thought. Lisa went behind my back right away and stopped taking the Pill,' he explained with a tired sigh. 'I was annoyed, scared, but I was devoted to Molly when she was born less than a year after our marriage. What I hated was not having more time at home to be with Molly when she was young, while Lisa resented the hours I had to work.' He paused again as if steeling himself to continue. 'I soon discovered that Lisa was seeing other men. We argued, all the time, and she left me to be with someone else. I had a monumental fight to have any access to Molly at all. My daughter was everything to me, but she felt like a stranger after Lisa kept trying to keep us apart.' Ginger's fingers tightened in response to the pain of his memories.

'I should have seen what was going on, Ginger, but... It all came out later—Lisa's drinking, her boyfriend's rages. Instead of talking to me, to anyone, Molly took refuge in harming herself. She wrote it all down in a diary. A week before Molly turned twelve, her mother told her she was marrying again and they would be moving abroad, that Molly wouldn't see me much any more. Molly skipped school and was coming to find me at the hospital when she was knocked down on the road and killed.'

'Oh, my God, Cam.'

Ginger saw the tears glistening in his eyes. Aching for his loss, she scrambled to her knees behind him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, understanding for the first time what drove him with such relentless determination. Her own tears spilled down her cheeks, wetting his shirt as she pressed her face to his shoulder. They were two of a kind, she realised, each doing what they could for their patients in an effort to right the wrongs of the past and for those they had lost.

For a few minutes Cameron allowed himself to lean back against Ginger and be soothed by the comfort he felt in her arms, knowing she understood and that she cared. He still found it impossibly hard to talk about Molly. He still missed her, still felt so angry, so guilty.

'Reading her diary nearly killed me. I couldn't believe Lisa hadn't noticed how unhappy Molly was. I blame myself, I should have seen something, too, even though the time we had together was limited.'

'Cameron, it wasn't your fault, any more than what happened to my sister Dee was my parents' fault.' Her hold tightened on him and he waited, wanting to believe her, part of him unable to let go of the pain. 'That's why you gave up trauma.'

It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded. 'After my disastrous time with Lisa, I was hurt, bitter. I threw myself into work, swore off marriage and relationships, of laying myself open again. When Molly died four and a half years ago, I needed to do something. As much as I loved the buzz working in A and E gave me, it was no longer enough. I needed to understand Molly and people like her. It was bad enough learning the figures for adults who injure themselves, but totally shocking to discover just how many children self-harm. And yet there weren't enough specialist services for these people. So I devoted myself to helping others as I had been unable to help Molly.'

'We're both equally driven, equally determined to set up the best facilities we can.'

'Yes.' The truth of that was obvious. He shifted, urging her round so he could look at her. Turquoise eyes swam with her tears for him, desire and despair lurking in tandem. Sighing, he cupped her face with one hand. 'Ginger, I'd never want to trample on your dreams or stop you doing what you want and need to do, but I can't stop mine, either.'

Her smile was sad. 'I know that.'

'Maybe Ackerman won't give either of us the money.'

'Maybe. But then we'll both be stuck struggling to find other funding and all our patients might suffer.' She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his palm. 'How far along are your plans?'

'A fair way. Iain Chamberlain, an old school friend and now a close neighbour, is an accountant and he's handling all the figures and financing for me. I've got some other smaller backers, plus an agreement for NHS referrals.'

'Me, too. But you sound further ahead than me.' He allowed her to remove his hand from her face, missing being able to caress her peachy-soft skin, but she didn't let go, instead linking her fingers with his. 'Have you started looking at properties or anything?'

He'd wanted to talk, but he really didn't want to get bogged down in these kinds of details, not when time with Ginger was so precious. 'Some. I've had an architect draw up some basic plans for a purpose-built clinic, but I've not finally decided whether to build from scratch or modernise existing premises. It depends on cost and what is available. You?'

'I've not had any time to look yet. It seems a bit like tempting fate. At least I have a core team of staff who are eager to come on board when—if— it goes ahead.' Worry clouded her eyes as she looked at him. 'It has to, Cam, somehow. I can't bear to think of these patients without proper care.'

'I know,' he murmured roughly.

He regretted that he had drawn her so far down this road and had made her anxious. He was the one who had said they should keep work and personal separate. Now what was he doing? Making her talk about work. Determined to distract her, he allowed one finger to trace the line of her jaw before sliding it erotically down her throat to her cleavage, teasing open her top button.

'Cam...'

Her voice had turned throaty, just as he'd hoped, and he felt a tremor quiver through her. Leaning in, he trailed his lips across her cheek to nibble at the corner of her mouth. His finger slid another button free and explored farther, climbing the slope of one delectable full, firm breast and finding the nipple budding to his touch. He smiled at her gasp, moving back to evade her as she turned her head to seek his lips.

'Have we done talking, Ginger?' He closed his teeth on the lobe of her ear, giving it a tiny nip before sucking it into his mouth, salving with his tongue.

'Yes. Please.'

'Good.' Kicking off his shoes, he tipped her down onto the bed and worked on the rest of her buttons. 'I have other things in mind for you.'

Eyes darkening with answering desire, she smiled and echoed his own response. 'Good.'

Kneeling over her, his pulse rate sped up as her hands began undoing his shirt. He stripped it off, impatient now to see her, to touch her, to lose himself in her and forget everything else. 'Cute pyjamas,' he murmured, amused by the cartoon animals covering her from head to toe.

But she'd not be wearing them for much longer. He peeled back the edges of her top, revealing her torso to his hungry gaze. His mouth watered and his body hardened even further. Straddling her hips, he eased the material off her shoulders and partway down her back and arms, leaving her imprisoned by the fabric.

'Cameron!'

He chuckled as she struggled ineffectually to get free, taking his time to run the palm of one hand from her throat, down the steep valley between her breasts to her navel. 'You're beautiful.'

'I want to touch you, too,' she complained, still wrestling with the trapped sleeves.

'Later.' Hands firm and sure, he caressed her breasts, seeing the flush of arousal stain her silky skin, her nipples tightening as he rotated his palms over them. He wanted nothing more than to taste them, but made himself wait, teasing them both. Shifting down, he toyed with the waistband of her pyjama bottoms before stripping them down her legs, enjoying the view as he knelt between her thighs. 'Perfect.' He trailed his fingers over her feminine flesh, finding her hot and wet, her hips moving to his rhythm. 'I think I like having you captive like this. At my mercy. So I can do anything I want to you.'

A whimper of need escaped as she writhed to his touch. 'Cam, please!'

He took his time, savouring every moment as he loved her breasts with his mouth, licking, suckling, nipping, before working his way down, exploring with fingers, lips and tongue. He loved the way she responded to him, loved the soft, feminine roundness of her, the taste of her, the arousing warm summer berries scent of her skin, the noises she made. Wanting, hot, needy, he suddenly paused, trying to absorb the shocking realisation that had just hit him, cutting off his breath as if he had been punched in the solar plexus.

'What's wrong?' she asked, her own breath coming in ragged pants.

'Nothing.' Only that he now knew that what he had never planned on happening again, had never wanted to happen,
had
happened. He was in love with Ginger. The enormity of it, the complications, stilled him for a few manic heartbeats. Her amazing body squirmed beneath him, and he gazed down at her, devouring the lush and sinful curves in all the right places and the natural, firm breasts that filled his hands and drove him crazy. All of her drove him crazy. But not just her body. Not just the sex. He loved
her.
Loved everything that made her the special woman she was. Desperate not to think about what was happening to him, he freed her arms, tossing the garment aside, his fingers unsteady as he reached out to take a condom from his wallet. His voice was hoarse when he forced himself to repeat the words. 'Nothing's wrong.'

Scared, urgently needing the physical closeness, his whole body trembled as Ginger took the protection from him and tormented him as she slowly rolled it on. He leaned down, his mouth taking hers in a hot, searing, devouring kiss, letting himself drown in her sweetness, in the magic they always found together. Unable to wait any longer, he moved to her, welcoming the way she wrapped her arms and legs around him as they joined as one. He'd wanted to go slow. But he couldn't. It was too good, too immediate. They were both too needy. And they gave in to the wildness as they chased the ultimate fulfilment, flying with each other into the swirling vortex of intense pleasure.

Over the following week, Ginger had no idea what on earth she was doing. Her days were manic as she crammed in as many appointments and group counselling sessions as possible without skimping on the attention she gave each patient. On top of that she had paperwork, meetings and plans to make for her future. As for her nights... Oh, her nights! They were spent wrapped in Cameron's arms, occasionally at her rented house in town, more often at Cameron's cottage. She loved it there, the rural quiet, the cosy log fire, making . love with him for hours. But she still felt she was living on borrowed time, waiting for the axe to fall, and she tried to keep part of herself back, untouched, because she very much feared she would never recover once Cameron was gone from her life.

Often she thought about his daughter, the pain of his loss, understanding so much more about him now, and why he did what he did. If only they had met under other circumstances, without the competition of the Ackerman money and what it meant to the fulfilment or ending of their dreams. Day by day it was harder to focus on the importance of her responsibilities to her patients, harder to force her personal happiness to take a back seat. But she knew time was running out. A decision would be made and one of them would move on. Alone.

'You're amazing with those youngsters, Ginger.'

Warmed by the praise, she glanced up as Cameron came into her hospital consulting room. 'Thanks. I just want to do all I can for them.'

'You do. They're lucky to have you.' He moved close and took her hand in his. 'Thank you for letting me sit in on your group meeting this morning. I learned a lot and saw a whole different side to you. It's easy to see how you get the results you do. Your patients trust you, believe in you, and you care about them.'

'It's hard not to get emotionally involved sometimes.'

The pad of his thumb brushed back and forth across her wrist, firing her pulse. 'I know. I feel the same. Some of them are so damaged, their stories so gut-wrenching. It's like you transplant your strength into them when you give them so much of your time and your very self.'

'You do the same thing, too. And you were great with them this morning. You knew just the right things to say, caught the level on which to talk with them,' she said. Not that she was surprised, having seen him in action with his own patients. People of all ages responded to him right away.