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do was fantasise over a stranger's breasts! His gaze strayed once more. Damn, but she was one sexy woman. He shifted uncomfortably as his body responded in the most basic of ways. This was ridiculous! The randy teenage years were decades behind him. He was a thirty-six-year-old consultant, not a schoolboy. And he didn't do relationships, didn't get involved, not any more. In his years in London, the 'after Lisa years', he'd had occasional evenings out with sophisticated, independent women who had wanted nothing more from their brief association than he had. Which had suited him fine. But more and more, all his energies were going into his work. Nothing could be allowed to distract him from his goal. He'd do well to remember that and stop leching over his unwitting travelling companion.
     
    Ginger felt light-headed and peculiarly breathless. The way he'd just looked at her was outrageous! She was fifteen years past the blushing virgin stage, but she didn't think any man had ever regarded at her so... so ...sexually before. Heat flared inside her, making her ache with an electrifying desire and, even more shockingly, it wasn't abating. This was ridiculous!
    She forced herself to think of mundane things and looked out of the window at the changing landscape, the rural scenery giving way to urban environments as the train sped south. Her preference when travelling by train had always been to sit 'facing the engine', as her father would once have put it. Perhaps it said something about her, that she needed to see where she was going, to approach things head on. Her wickedly attractive travelling companion, on the other hand, whose reflection she could see in the glass, looked perfectly relaxed with his back to the way they were going. Did that mean he was someone who dwelt too much on the past? It was an odd thought, but an occupational hazard, she supposed, to look for the analytical reasons behind people's behaviour.
    When her mobile phone sounded, the personalised ring tone seeming louder than usual, Ginger fumbled in her bag to answer it, far too aware of the man nearby, her cheeks warming again as she met an amused grey gaze.
    'Sorry.' She saw him shake his head at her apology before she turned aside to take the call, seeing her assistant's name on the display. 'Yes, Sarah?'
    'I'm sorry, Ginger, but I've had Mr Carstairs on the phone. He's the father of the new girl you will be seeing on Monday.'
    'Yes, I know.' Ginger frowned, recalling the brief case details she had received from the GP who had referred Tess Carstairs to her. 'What's the problem?'
    'He says he's not sure about the appointment, whether coming to the clinic is in the best interests of his daughter,' Sarah informed her, anxiety in her voice.
    'I see. I'd be interested to know how he thinks they're going to change things themselves.' She curbed her frustration and annoyance. Eating disorders carried an unfair stigma, and this was not the first time she had dealt with parents who were more worried about what other people might think rather than their child's troubles. Dr Nic di Angelis, the family GP, had already warned her of the father's attitude in this case. 'Has Mr Carstairs cancelled the appointment?'
    'No, but he wants to talk more about it with you first. I explained you were away for a couple of days. He got a bit shirty.'
    Ginger was alerted by the thread of upset Sarah was unable to hide. 'Shirty? How?'
    'He swore at me, actually, when I wouldn't give him your mobile number.'
    'Did he indeed?' She paused, finding a blank page to make a note in her diary. 'I'm sorry you had to put up with that, Sarah. I'll deal with it.'
    'Do you want me to give you his number?'
    Knowing she would have scant privacy to discuss confidential matters on the train, Ginger declined. 'Not now. There's little I can do from here. If he rings again, say you have informed me and I'll telephone him on Friday when I'm back in the office. All right?'
    'Yes, fine.'
    'And such