When I wake up on Monday I feel refreshed. Unlike most people, I like Mondays. I know I'm in the minority who has that view, it's not a day most people look forward to and I'd probably be called a sadist in some circles. However it's my "on call" day which means I get out of the office, and instead drive around visiting patients rather than treating them from behind my desk.

My first visit of the morning is Mrs Matthews; who lives closest to the surgery but has been bed bound for the last few months after a nasty fall. She also suffers from Alzheimer's which means that on some days when I visit her we don't talk about how she's feeling at all and talk instead about the weather and the large oak tree at the foot of her garden and whether she should have it preened or not.

Lucy Hale who I visit after Mrs Matthews is a 32-year-old expectant first-time mother who looks after an elderly father-in-law at home. We get on really well and after her check up, I spend too long chatting with her, mainly about how we don't get out much anymore since we became old and boring. Lucy seems totally happy with her husband Chris, and that coupled with her nervous excitement about the baby makes some place deep inside me flare with something like envy. I don't regret not marrying Ben and having his children. I only regret spending so much of my best years with the cheating arrogant prick. Years I wish I'd spent with someone else. Lucy knows I'm single with a cat, and so tries to be nice and offers to set me up with her 34 year old, also single brother in law - which I politely decline. I have more than enough male related excitement on my plate at the moment, Sam and a certain other keeping me more that mindfully entertained.

My next couple of appointments seems to drag, and Mr Harris my 12 o'clock doesn't even answer when I arrive. I make a call to his next of kin who apologises and tells me that he's visiting family in Bath this week and must have forgot to cancel his monthly appointment. It's actually a little triumph because it gives me an extra long lunch and I stop in for something to eat on the way to my next appointment. I'm reading the paper and sipping my cappuccino when I see a feature on the opening of Jakes nightclub in the going out section. It makes me freeze mid sip and makes the goose bumps on my arms raise and tingle.

"Under much secrecy and a cleverly executed viral marketing campaign, Saturday night saw the opening of Brick Lane's newest - and at the risk of sounding uncool myself - coolest nightclub. Up until its opening night, no one had a clue what was being done under the tarpaulin covering the monolith structure at the junction of Parker St and Bond. Then the covers came off and the worlds highest paid DJ played a set that almost blew the roof off the neo gothic space, and all of those questions were answered. Surgery (a name picked by a guest apparently - another genius marketing ploy by the owners if you ask me) has been touted as the next Ministry of Sound, and if last weekend was anything to go by then they may well have hit the nail right on the head. Decadent, atmospheric and ridiculously stylish, it is the place to be for all dance fans. (Or pseudo-cool journalists who really just want to be as cool as the people who were there on Saturday night) ~ Chris Harder - *****"

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. So Jake's club got a 5 star review from The Standard. For some reason I feel proud of him even though I know I have absolutely no right to feel anything on his behalf. I wonder if he's seen it. He must have. The next Ministry of Sound - high praise indeed. An image of his smile as he reads the review flashes before my eyes and I find myself smiling too. I'm really happy for him. I'd tell him that if I saw him. Or would I because technically I'm still angry that he thinks I'm the sort of woman that invites men over for sex. I take my phone out of my bag and re-read his message over for the umpteenth time as well as my response.

Yes I was blunt in that final one and since I haven't heard from him Im guessing he got the idea. Which was good. Wasn't it? Well, it was fun while it lasted I suppose.

The rest of the afternoon goes much the same and although I like being out of the office, driving makes me tired and I feel exhausted by the time arrive back at the surgery just before 4pm. I like to get back to type my notes up so I don't have to do it Monday night at home or first thing Tuesday morning.

As I walk into reception there are a few patients scattered about the waiting room, including Mr Conquer who gives me a friendly smile at me as pass. I used to treat him but he moved to Sam when he needed his prostate exam. I didn't mind though - I preferred women doing my cervical exams.

I stop by the reception desk, and Anna looks up. She looks as tired as me but still manages a friendly smile, "Hey Alex, how was your day?"

"Fine thanks, anything?" I say, covering my mouth to stifle a yawn. Tonight I would have that bath I missed last night. An erotic book might do to. Time to go back to what my life was before Jake happened. Single. Really single.

"Nope. No emergencies. Mrs Goldman's bloods are back, and you have two new patients booked in for tomorrow. Their records haven't been released yet but Kate's on the phone just now chasing it," She says as she hands me Mrs Goldmans paperwork. "Sam is running slightly behind by two," She nods at Mr Conquer, "and Doug's gone home. Wasn't feeling well." She purses her lips. I nod glancing through Mrs Goldmans results. Iron deficiency, and signs of hypothyroidism. I'd call her tomorrow to discuss treatment.

"Well if you see Sam tell him I'm back if he needs me to take someone?" I tell Anna before heading back to my office. As I get there Sam is exciting his with a female patient who's looking up at him with doe eyes and batting her eyelashes - she looking at him the way barmaid Gemma looked at Jake. He smiles at me as I pass and as I smile back I decide that he looks rather cute in his dark brown cords and lightly patterned shirt. He's also wearing his black tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses which I like and he looks professional and clean-cut. Yes, I could definitely do a lot worse than a date with Dr Sam Wardley

I'm typing up today's notes when I hear a small knock on the door before Anna pops her head round, smiling.

"Hey Alex, sorry to interrupt but these just arrived for you," she comes into the room carrying a large bunch of white roses framed with green leaves. My mouth drops open as she brings them towards me. "They're gorgeous. Special occasion?" she asks, setting them down on my desk. I shake my head at her, and stare confusedly at them.

"Um no, not at all." I say. I have no clue who would send me flowers. Sam? Was that why he was smiling at me? We haven't even been out yet. Seems like overkill if it was him. Dad maybe? He sends me them every year on my birthday but that isn't for 8 months. Maybe he wanted to cheer me up? "I think there's a spare vase in the kitchen. I'll get it for you," Anna says and disappears out of my office.

From my angle I notice a flash of white in the green, and I stand up and fish the creamy white card out of the bouquet and tear it open. It's handwritten in a neat boyish scrawl and it causes my heart to flip over.

I have a very high opinion of you Alexandra. I was out of order and I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you.

P.S If you don't like roses I'm sorry about that too. I'll do better next time... Jxx

Holy Christ he sent me flowers. Jake Lawrence sent me flowers. Does that mean he's still chasing me? That he's trying a new tact and its flowers? How gentlemanly of him. I wonder what his idea of making it up to me is. My mind starts racing and my face gets all hot and then I hear another soft knock on my office door. I think it's Anna with the vase but instead Sam pops his head in, a weird expression fleeting across his face when he spots the roses.

"Wow. Secret admirer?" He says as he comes into the room, the door closing softly behind him.

"Um, no," I laugh awkwardly "just a grateful patient. Completely unnecessary." I shake my head.

Not a complete lie. I did treat Jake and he was grateful. I slip the card into my top drawer and smile up at Sam. I think about mentioning his own secret admirer in the form of his last female patient but I decide against it incase he thinks I'm jealous, which I'm most definitely not.

"That you heading home? You caught up then?" I ask him.

"Yeah." He nods and then pauses. He opens his mouth to say something else when Anna knocks and comes in with the vase.

"Thanks Anna. I'll decant them," I smile. She nods and smiles at Sam then slips back out. When the door closes again he looks back to me and begins shifting on his feet. I know exactly what he's about to say.

"Eh, so I was just wondering if you were free this week, or at the weekend for that drink?" he looks shy. And so, months and months without any male attention and now I had two to choose from. Well one was less of a choice and more of a steamroller to the senses.

A steamroller that had just sent me the most gorgeous bouquet of white roses I'd ever seen.

I nod "Oh right, yes, sure. Ummm Saturday night?" I say. I'm surprised at how enthusiastic I sound because I really don't feel it.

His face brightens "Yeah great. Saturday is great," He sounds pleased. Well at least that made one of us. "Pick you up at 7?"

"Yeah 7 is good. We could go to the Pig and Hen in my village? They do great craft beer, and cider?" I suggest. I think I'd feel less pressure in a place I was familiar with. Not that I felt under pressure on dates but it would just be much less formal than say dinner, and much more like two friends going out for a few drinks. Which was most definitely what I'm sure I want it to be now. Now that Jake Lawrence had sent me flowers.

Sam smiles at me, "I do like beer, and cider."

We agree on beer and cider in my village pub and then he smiles that warm easy smile and leaves me alone with my thoughts, thoughts that are mainly about the same thing they've been about for the last few days. The last thing I do before I leave the office an hour later is open my drawer to retrieve the card from my "grateful patient". I turn the card over in my hand, running my fingers over his words, which he wrote himself. Seeing his handwriting has a weird effect on me that I cant really explain.

Then I feel foolish because maybe he got the woman in the shop to write it. I imagine when Jake sends a woman flowers he expects a lot in return, and probably gets a lot too. I wonder what making it up to me means?

Yes, he sent me flowers and apologized but he's still not my type and he still screams trouble. Not to mention being the kind of guy that people want to cut open with a knife on a Tuesday night. What on earth am I doing even considering this?

Perhaps I could do one night of passion with him and then move on from this madness. A night of Jake Lawrence being inside me isn't the worst thing I could imagine doing with an evening. He would be amazing in bed; I have no doubt about that. That sexual arrogance comes from somewhere. He strutted around like women got damp from just one look from him in their direction (of which I was now probably one) so he had to be amazing in bed.

One night with Jake.

The thought of it made me want to get home and take a cold shower. Or have some private personal time with the toy in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. Yes that's what I should do instead, and stop being ridiculous by even considering sleeping with Jake. I should sleep with Sam instead if I really needed to feel someone on top of me (or inside me). He was the sensible safe choice. I'd always made sensible safe choices.

What I decide to do, and what is typical for me, is to think about it for a few more days. Or rather, overthink it for a few more days and play out all the possible scenarios, including the worst case. Then after that I'll be in a much better position to decide what to do about my Jake Lawrence situation.

At the very least I should thank him for the flowers. But that would involve having to think about the wording of a message that I'm not sure I want to be ambiguous or not. A few days of him thinking flowers aren't quite enough wont do him any harm either.

Tuesday is the longest day of the week because tonight is another late surgery. Each week the 6 of us alternate in pairs to do it, and this week Sam and I are it. Technically it's supposed to be James and Sam but James has his daughter's play or ballet recital or something and so I offered to swap with him. But late surgery days mean I'm on a twelve-hour shift so I always try and make sure I get a decent hour and a half lunch, which I rarely do any other days.

I leave the surgery at noon on the button and head along to my usual deli the next street over to grab my favorite guilty lunch treat of a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel followed by a white chocolate chip muffin. I'd been dreaming about it since ten am. It's fatty and unhealthy but it keeps me going until I get home at 9pm, and I justify it by telling myself I only have it every other Tuesday.

As usual the deli is busy with housewives and their pushchairs, or as I like to refer to them - their weapons of choice, and retirement age men with newspapers the size of 4-men tents, or as I like to refer to them - the Broadsheet Brigade. I just manage to find an empty table by the window and I'm halfway through my bagel, Americano and the deli's copy of The Guardian when I feel someone standing over me. I glance up, blink a few times, and then all of the air leaves my lungs.

Oh dear god. Why is he here? How is he here? What is he doing here?

I literally have no idea how long he's been standing there but surely I would have felt his presence had it been any interminable amount of time.

He's smiling down at me in that boyish way he does as he stares at every part of my face all at once. Just to add another dose of heat to my insides, he looks stunning in a casual grey shirt buttoned down with a white t-shirt underneath and dark sunglasses tucked into the low V-neck. So he does casual daywear equally as well as immaculately tailored formal wear - of course he does. He's staring at my mouth so intently that I begin to think I have cream cheese on my face. I touch my fingers to my mouth to check and he smiles deeper.

"Mind if I join you?" he says taking a seat before I can answer. I stare at him dumbly for a few moments before picking up my napkin to dab my lips with it. I really can't be sure my fingers got it all and he's still staring very hard at my mouth.

"What on earth are you doing here?" I ask sounding ruder than I'd intended to.

He smiles and lets out a sigh "Would you believe me if I told you I was in the neighbourhood?" he says.

I shake my head "No, I wouldn't." Nothing with him is by chance. Like me meeting him in the managers office of a nightclub I had no idea he owned. Like the way his hair looks accidentally messy when it's not. It's deliberate. To make women like me want to grab it and run their fingers through it.

At that moment a barista comes over with a brown takeout cup and places it in front of him. It has his name written on it in big girlish black letters. Jake says thank you without taking his eyes off me.

"So you don't like roses then?" he says when we're alone.

"What? Yes I did, I mean I do, yes," I look away from him. Great, I sound like an idiot again. His eyes make me feel so exposed and uncertain. From the corner of my eye I see him nod and then he begins to twist his cup round and round on the table. He looks nervous too. Well that was something.

"I was really worried I had upset you," He says, voice soft.

I look back at him. "I wasn't upset," I tell him. I wasn't. Upset wasn't the right term. I was angry and shocked mainly, amongst a few other things. I don't say anything of this though because I don't want him to guess my true feelings about his statement of intent about feeling himself inside me.

"And you believe me?"

"About what?"

"That I don't have a low opinion of you. That I'm sorry if what I said made you think that," He says, eyes serious.

I don't know how to answer that. Do I really think him saying he wanted to get me wet and then fuck my brains out meant he had a low opinion of me? No, not really. Why would he have a low opinion of me? Yet last night I'd accused him of assuming of this, and of thinking I was some common slut. So him sending me flowers made up for that? How easy was I? Oh god I don't bloody know. He makes my brain soft.

I sigh. "To be honest Jake, I have no idea what you think of me. What you said to me was crude and I'm not used to men talking to me that way. I was shocked I suppose," I shrug and he nods looking guilty. "I'm guessing that's just normally how you speak to women? Does it normally work?" I ask.

Although do I really want to know what he normally does with women and how successful it is? To have him confirm that I'm just another one of many to him. No, I don't need to know that.

I shake my head "You know what, don't answer that. I don't particularly care,"

His eyes harden for a second before he begins to bite the inside of his bottom lip furiously. He doesn't seem as cocky and relaxed as usual and I'm glad, he seems a little tense and out of sorts, his sexual arrogance dimmed somewhat. I guess it means neither of us are our usual selves which puts us on an even keel at last.

I take a sip of my coffee, which is cold now but I keep drinking anyway because I want to keep my dry mouth and nervous hands busy. As I put my cup back down into the saucer, I miss the landing pad and the cup tips over spilling my cold Americano across the table and towards him.  He slides back slightly to avoid getting wet, and I grab a napkin and begin trying to mop up the mess. 

What the hell is wrong with me? What is it about this man that makes me so nervous, so on edge, so bloody unhinged? I look up at him as I wipe and he hands me another napkin with an amused look on his face.

"Do I make you nervous Alex?" he smiles.

"What? No, of course not." I lie.

I do my best to clean the mess before sitting back down, Jakes turquoise eyes watching my every move as though analyzing it in minutiae. He's so still, like a predator before an attack.

Just then the same barista comes over, having clearly spotted my accident, and wipes down the table with a damp cloth and picks up the sodden napkins. As she leaves she smiles sympathetically at me, like she knows, like she feels sorry for me for making an idiot of myself in front of the sexy edgy-looking model guy.

When she's gone, I turn my eyes back to him to find him still staring at me. He stares hard as he shifts further back in his chair, slouching slightly to get more comfortable. Great, he looks cocky and relaxed again. My spillage gave him the solid ground. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

"Alright Doctor, let me tell you what I really think about you," he runs a hand over his mouth and licks his full luscious lips "I think you're an amazingly beautiful, classy, smart woman who's completely out of my league. You're a woman I do not stand a fucking chance with and who knows she should probably stay the fuck away from me. But I think you've been fighting with yourself since you met me. Fighting against all the reasons you should stay away. All the sensible, good girl, reasons you've probably lived your whole life by?," He looks at me as though he wants me to confirm or deny this but I say nothing. He smiles again and leans a little forward and when he speaks again his voice is quieter. "Which, to be fair are extremely fucking valid here. But I think you want me anyway. In fact, I'm pretty fucking certain that you do. I'm pretty fucking certain you want me maybe as much as I want you," He states, completely 100% certain of it being the truth. Which it clearly is.

I wonder what the giveaway is? It's probably the shallow breaths that I cant elongate, or the fact that he can probably see my heart beating double time from over there, or maybe my face is red. It feels red. I swallow. Then I realise that swallowing is probably a giveaway too. Wait a minute, he thinks I'm amazingly beautiful and out of his league?

"How many times have you thought about me since Friday night? Since I kissed you. And then since you kissed me?" He smirks. He raises an eyebrow questioningly, as though he honestly expects me to answer him. Seriously?

If truth be told - which it wont be - I've lost count of the amount of times I've thought about him since Friday night. I also thought about him a few times before Friday night but he doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to know any of it. He knows far too much already, it's written across my flushed face. I look down and play with my cup thinking that I should be telling him that I don't want him, and that I haven't thought about him that much at all. I don't though. I just play the kiss in his office, and then in the corridor over and over in my head.

"That many huh?" He says sounding pleased. When I look back up he's still smiling at me. It's that small half-smile thing he does that makes him look totally arrogant and totally boyish at the same time. Damn him. "It's okay doctor, I've thought about you a lot you too. About how your tongue tasted in my mouth and about all the things I wanted to do but never got the chance and about how hard you made me," His eyes blaze a little and then he runs his hand over his mouth again. "Shit. Sorry. That was crude again wasn't it?" He sounds apologetic but it's not entirely convincing.

To be honest I don't care that he was crude again, in a public place this time, specifically in the deli where I have lunch. What I care about is him constantly calling me doctor. My patients call me doctor, strangers call me doctor, and the people at the airport call me doctor. I want him to say my name.

"What exactly is it that you want Jake?" I ask sounding exasperated. I say his name hoping he'll get the point and say mine. "Was sending me white roses the alternative route to feeling yourself inside me? Because I'm still not that girl." I state. Then I catch myself. Did I just say that out loud? I look around me to check that no one has heard me say feeling yourself inside me. It's fairly noisy though and thankfully the clattering of crockery and the noise of the milk steamer seem to have muffled my own crudeness. I hadn't really been aware of anything or anyone else the entire time we've been talking. Only him. "Is there something else that you want from me?" I just manage to stop myself from saying something more, instead of something else. Do I want him to want something more.

His expression changes, going from playful to serious, and then he slowly lifts his cup to take a sip. Unlike mine his hands are totally steady. They're also extremely sexy like I remembered them being. He puts his cup back down without spilling a single drop and refocuses his stare on me, warming me from the inside out with it.

"Yeah actually there is," he sighs sitting back in his chair. "I want everything from you Alex. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just gotta make you fall in love with me first," His face is serious. Totally serious and utterly sincere. My breathing seems to stutter to a complete stop. What the hell is he talking about? He stares at me with that serious face for one, two, three beats and then chuckles sexily and runs his hand through his hair. "Kidding. Too much too soon?" he says quirking a brow.

I swallow and shake my head. "Actually no. It wasn't too much at all. In fact I think I might be in love with you already. Let's get married and have four children? 2 boys and 2 girls? What do you think?" I sit back in my chair and try and keep my face serious like he did.

I manage it for about four seconds before small smile escapes from my mouth. Jake mirrors it with a gorgeous grin of his own, a grin that practically sets my womb on fire. He really is ridiculously gorgeous. It's utterly distracting.

"Married. Sure," he nods. "Kids? Definitely. But how about you let me take you to dinner first? You might hate the noises I make when I eat or something," He shrugs and then leans across the table again.

From this new closer distance that clean male scent of him floats towards me and up my nose. He reaches his hand out and I think that he might take mine, but he doesn't. It seems like an eternity since we kissed against the wall in that cold corridor and I crave the contact from him again. I realise that now.

How different things seemed in that corridor. It seems like another me. This seems like another Jake in front of me now. A Jake who sends flowers and asks me out for dinner - this seems like a manageable Jake.

I say nothing in response, I just fiddle with my pearl pendant necklace as I try to remember all the sensible good girl reasons to stay away from him. Then suddenly, they're gone.

I honestly can't remember why I was ever against this. I'm so attracted to him, even though he's not my type, and he sent me flowers and sought me out twice now because he wanted to see me again. Shallow and short sighted reasons to do this with him perhaps but I can deal with the consequences later. I'm a big girl.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "I'll have dinner with you." I drop my hand from my necklace and rest it back on the table next to his. It looks small and pale next to his larger tanned one. His eyes flash wide for a second and then he smiles before his bottom lip disappears into his mouth, his teeth doing things to it that I want to do.

In a second he's serious again and he nods and stands up from the table. "Ok. Saturday. Eight O'clock. I'll pick you up. I'll try my hardest not to be crude because I wouldn't want to shock you too much on our first date," He smirks. Our first date?

He steps toward me and leans down, reaching out to brush my hair back behind my shoulder. Slowly he bends down bringing his mouth to my cheek. His kiss is soft and chaste but it still sets my blood on fire when I feel his tongue dart out ever so slightly grazing my skin.

A shiver breaks out across my entire body and I'm sure he must be able to see the hairs across my neck stand on end. Before he stands back up he inhales deeply and I do the same. The smell. His smell. Clean, and male, and definitely like fire to my flammable blood.

When he stands up straight he smiles that smile that makes me want to point at every other woman in the place and go 'See? You see what I'm up against? I don't stand a bloody chance!'

"I'll see you Saturday then," he says, the side of his mouth turned up almost arrogantly. Then he turns on his heel and heads out of the deli and doesn't look back.

About 5 minutes later, once my breathing returns to normal and my brain starts functioning again, I realise that I've just agreed to go out with him at exactly the same time I'll be on a date with Sam.

Oh double bloody crap.

***A Dark Fall is now Available on Ebook and Paperback on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited***