SASKIA groaned. "Oh, no. Why does my mobile phone have to ring the very second that my fajitas are about to turn up?"

"You're not on call, are you?" Toby asked, pausing before he poured her a glass of wine.

"Of course not. I wouldn't have let you order the wine if I was." She scowled and fished her phone out of her handbag, then frowned as she looked at the display. 'Lydia?" She hadn't expected her best friend to call tonight. Anticipation prickled down the back of her neck. Paul was in Canada on business. Was there something wrong with the children? She answered swiftly. "Hi, Lyd. Everything OK?" She tried to ignore the sizzling dish placed before her by the waitress.

"Saskia, thank God you answered. It's Paul." Saskia's smile vanished as she heard the panic in Lydia's voice. "What's happened?"

"The hospital called from Vancouver. He's got appendicitis. Saskia, supposing it bursts before they remove it?"

"Of course it won't. They'll keep him under obs before the operation."

"He could end up with peritonitis. Or an abscess."

"True, but unlikely."

"The incision wound might get infected." Saskia's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Lydia, will you stop panicking? That's the worst thing about being a qualified doctor. You know all about the worst-case scenarios." Lydia was a GP, currently on maternity leave.

"Why did it have to happen while he was away on business? I can't get there. He's ill and he needs me, and I'm thousands of miles away."

"Lyd, stop panicking. If they've already called you, that means he's probably in the operating theatre right now — so you wouldn't be able to be with him right now anyway. It also means they've got to him in time, the appendix is probably in a kidney dish somewhere, and they're probably sewing him up even as we speak."

Lydia dragged in a breath. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm..." Her voice tailed off.

"Worried sick. Of course you are, Lyd. Anyone would be. But they'll ring you as soon as he's in Recovery and he's come round from the anaesthetic," Saskia soothed. 'Look, do you want Toby and me to come over and sit with you while you're waiting to hear?"

"I'm just being wet," Lydia said, sounding embarrassed. 'No. You're missing Paul, you never sleep well when he's away — and I bet the second you dropped off, last night, Madam woke you up because she's teething. So you're sleep-deprived and husband-deprived, not to mention probably hormonal." Helena, Lydia's youngest child, was only five months old. "And we're your best mates, so we'll forgive you." She put her hand over the phone and looked at Toby. "Did you follow all that?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll get the fajitas "to go". We'll warm them up again when we get to Lyd's."

She nodded. "I'll fill you in on the rest of it in the car." She took her hand off the phone again. "Lyd? We're on our way."

Five minutes later, they were on their way from Sheffield to the little Derbyshire village where Lydia lived. Toby stole a glance at the woman sitting in the passenger seat, who was making a list on her electronic organiser. Typical Saskia. Practical, organised everything and everyone, moved at the speed of light... He hadn't been able to resist buying her a T-shirt for her birthday with 'Superwoman' emblazoned across it. In Latin. She'd loved it.

The problem was, he couldn't get a certain picture out of his mind. Dr Saskia Hayward, wearing nothing but that T- shirt. And peeling it off...for him.

He fought to control himself. That was the other problem. Saskia made his knees weak: curvy, dark-haired, with grey eyes that could skewer you or soothe you, depending on her mood, and a mouth that would give any red-blooded man palpitations. But she didn't feel the same way about him. As far as she was concerned, Toby Barker was the medical student she'd met thirteen years ago — a shy, nerdy, bespectacled boy who'd become one of her two best friends. And 'best friend' meant no touching. Well, not touching in the way he wanted to touch her. A casual arm around her shoulder, a hug or a kiss on the cheek was fine. Saskia was the tactile sort, so it was a kind of sweet torture. Enough to make him want more, yet not enough to satisfy.

As troubles always came in threes, that was the third thing. Saskia went through men at speed, too. They almost never lasted longer than two dates. And two dates wouldn't be enough for Toby. Particularly as they'd mean he would be out of her life for good afterwards. At least being her best friend meant that he got to spend time with her.

All the same, he kept wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Well, actually, he knew what it was like to kiss her. He'd done it at a Christmas party two years ago, under the mistletoe. It had blown his mind. But then he'd seen the shock and horror in her face, so he'd started slurring his words and pretending he was drunk.

On sparkling mineral water.

But she'd accepted it, particularly as the next day he'd claimed he had a mammoth hangover and asked her to promise him that he hadn't done anything really embarrassing or stupid at the party the previous night. To his relief, she hadn't mentioned the kiss. So he'd got away with it. Just.

Though the kiss still haunted him. The softness of her skin. The way she tasted. And, oh, the way her mouth had opened under his. It wasn't long until Christmas. The party season would start in a couple of weeks. All he had to do was make sure they went to one together, then manoeuvre her over to some mistletoe and —

"Tobe, are you listening?"

"No," he admitted. Not that he was going to tell her what he'd been thinking about. That was definitely something he needed to keep under wraps.

"I said, Lyd's fretting because she wants to see Paul. Until she can see for herself that he's fine, she'll be impossible. But no way can she take the kids with her. Apart from the fact that it's a long-haul flight, you can't expect a baby and a three-year-old to hang around a hospital all day and give Daddy lots of peace and quiet while he recovers from abdominal surgery."

"They probably haven't arranged a passport for Helena yet, anyway," Toby said.

"You're right. I hadn't thought of that. She's going to be caught right in the middle — wanting to be with Paul, but not wanting to leave the kids." Saskia sighed. "If she does go, she'll need someone to hold the fort. Her parents are in New Zealand, visiting her sister — and Paul's parents won't be able to do it." Paul's mother was in the early stages of Alzheimer's and they both knew it wasn't fair to expect Paul's father to look after his grandchildren and his wife. She drummed her fingers on her knees. "Which leaves me."

"Saskia, can I just remind you that you have a full-time job? You're a senior registrar — you've been acting consultant since Jim's been on sick leave, getting his hernia sorted. No way are you going to get a couple of weeks' leave at this kind of short notice."

"I don't need to. I'll cope," she said airily. That was stating the obvious. Saskia never saw problems, only solutions. She was a born coper. Give her ten seconds, and she'd have the whole thing planned out.

Toby began counting in his head. He got to three before she announced, "It's easy. I'll move into the cottage while Lyd's away. I can drop the kids off at nursery before work, and pick them up at the end of the day."

"And when you're on a late shift? Nurseries are open until six p.m. at the latest," he pointed out. "Actually, they don't open until eight, so it doesn't fit with early shift either. And even if you did manage by some miracle to get the kids into the hospital crèche until Lyd's home again, it's not fair to add another layer of disruption to their lives."

"I suppose so," she admitted, clearly unwillingly. 'Look, Saskia, we all know you're Superwoman, but you really can't do your job, run Lyd's house, as well as your own, and take over as a mum of two, all on your own." He waved her protest away. "It's more than just being flung in at the deep end. If Lyd wants to go over to Paul and you take over the reins from her, you're going to need help — preferably from someone who doesn't work shifts, or at least someone who's on an early when you're on a late, so one of you can do the nursery run while the other's at work."

"And your solution is?"

Typical Saskia. She expected people to follow her lead and come up with answers, not questions. Well, he was a match for her on that front. "I'll help you."

She frowned. "What do you know about kids?' He tapped his index finger thoughtfully on the steering-wheel. "Hmm, let me see. I'm a paediatrician." Not to mention that he'd been a qualified doctor for three years longer than Saskia had. "Does that count?"

She snorted. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. And working in Paeds isn't the same as living with kids, is it?"

"Says the woman who works with foetuses and babies under a week old. I've got as much childcare experience as you have. I've babysat for Lyd." He was the first choice if Paul was away and Saskia and Lydia wanted a girly night out. In fact, now he thought about it, he'd babysat the children more often than Saskia had.

She sighed. "You're probably right."

"No "probably" about it. I couldn't cope all on my own either. This needs teamwork."

She chuckled, obviously picking up on the fact that he was deliberately imitating her management style. "All right, all right. Thank you. I accept. But don't tell anyone we're living together, will you?"

Why? Had she met someone? 'Or it'll ruin my reputation," she added. It was only then that Toby realised he was holding his breath. He grinned — more from relief that she wasn't about to embark on another romantic disaster than in reaction to her teasing. "Ha, more like it'll ruin mine. You're the one who has strings of men and never gives any of them a third date!"

"Yeah, and you're the one who doesn't date at all."

"Too busy with me job, luv," he fenced, in his best fake Yorkshire accent. Yet another lie. But how could he tell her the truth? There was only one woman he wanted. And he was waiting patiently until she realised that he was the one she'd been looking for all her life.

It was just taking a bit longer than he'd hoped.

"Thanks for coming." Lydia's eyes were puffy and red. "I know he's in the best place but..."

"But you want to be there with him," Saskia said, hugging her. "Of course you do."

"And I can't go." Lydia's face was anguished. "I can't drag Helena and Billy halfway across the world in the middle of the night — or even tomorrow morning. It wouldn't be fair on them. And I can't leave them. Not my babies."

"Superwoman here said you'd say that," Toby said dryly. 'And she's got a plan."

"Yep. You go to Paul: we'll look after the kids," Saskia said.

"But...Saskia, I can't expect you to do that! You're both working full time. Even if the nursery can have the kids for the extra hours, it's — I can't ask you to do that."

"We're offering," Toby said. Lydia explained what they'd discussed in the car. 'They'll be perfectly safe with us."

"But I've never been away from Helena before. Not for a whole night, let alone however long I'll be in Vancouver! And I've only been away from Billy for a couple of nights."

"On your anniversary, when Paul swept you away for a romantic weekend and I babysat," Saskia reminded her. 'Lyd, you can't be in two places at once. If you stay here, you'll get yourself in a state about Paul. If you go to Vancouver, at least you know you don't have to worry about the kids because they'll be with us. Toby gets to play with a train set all evening, I get to sing nursery rhymes..." She spread her hands. "So everyone's happy. Helena's too young to know what's going on, and Billy's going to get spoiled rotten. You can ring him every day so he gets to talk to you, I'll get him to draw pictures to send to you, and Toby and I will text you several times a day."

Lydia bit her lip. "Thanks. And I love you for offering. But I can't." She raked a hand through her hair. "It's six weeks till Christmas. I haven't even started my shopping or thought about writing cards or —"

"Easy. Write a list on the plane, then fax it to me when you get to Vancouver," Saskia said. "And, no, it's not going to be a hassle. I can get most of it through the Internet." She grinned. "And I love spending other people's money."

"There's no point in arguing with her, Lyd. You know she's got an answer for everything," Toby said, smiling to take the sting from his words.

"Are you sure?" Lydia asked. 'Sure," Toby said. "And you'll be back home in time to do the tree with Billy. Now, go and pack. Saskia'll book your ticket. Where's your passport?"

"Uh — I dunno, somewhere in the filing cabinet."

"GPs. They're so hopeless with paperwork," Saskia teased. To her relief, it made Lydia give her the glimmer of a smile.

"I don't know how to thank you both," Lydia said. 'Chocolate," Toby said in a stage whisper. "Now go and pack."