Читать книгу Miracle: Twin Babies - Fiona Lowe - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

NICK concentrated hard, keeping his gaze firmly on the cannula he was inserting into Garry’s arm, immensely glad of the distraction. Kirby Atherton’s sky-blue eyes sparkled hypnotically, like light dancing on water. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about her when she’d walked up to his stall, quickly followed by her willowy height and the way her running gear clung deliciously to every feminine curve.

But it had been her eyes that had really drawn him. He had the craziest sensation that if her eyes were deep pools of water and he dived into them, he would emerge changed somehow. He tried to shrug the irrational feeling away. Not even on his worst days last year, when he’d hardly been able to get out of bed and the drugs he’d been taking had made him despair, had he experienced such foolish thoughts.

And prior to being sick, when life had consisted of work and a revolving door of beautiful women, he’d never thought twice about a set of eyes. Perhaps his mother was right. Maybe he had been out of social circulation for too long.

Brushing away the unsettling thoughts, he released the tourniquet, watching the flow of saline, checking for problems, and refocusing on far more straightforward things. ‘We’re going start you on antibiotics, Garry.’

The exhausted patient just nodded from behind his mask.

The two burly paramedics lowered their stretcher in preparation to transfer Garry from the ground to the slightly more comfortable but narrow gurney.

‘Do you need a hand?’ Nick taped the drip firmly in place.

‘We’ll be right, thanks, Doc. We do this all the time so we’re in the swing. Best help you can give us is to just step back out of the way.’ Theo locked the brakes of the stretcher with his foot.

He stood up and moved to the side at the same moment as Kirby. Much of her fine blonde hair had escaped its pink elastic hair tie and strands blew across her flushed cheeks. Her scent tantalised his nostrils, a blend of exercise and glowing health overlaid with a swirl of flowers and berries. He breathed in deeply.

‘I’m going to ring through to Barago Hospital.’

Her words brought him back to the task at hand and he caught her sideways glance—the look quick but questioningly intense—as if she thought she should consult with him.

Her mouth opened ready to speak and then her teeth suddenly dragged across her bottom lip, momentarily flattening it before the skin rebounded into shape—full, soft and rose red.

Blood pounded through his veins with an unexpected rush and it took every ounce of concentration to stay connected to the conversation. Hell, what was wrong with him? Had he stepped back so far from his previous life that he’d disconnected from things and lost the ability to focus? He ran his hand though his short hair, missing the satisfaction of being able to tug at its length. Once he’d been known for his single-mindedness and right now he wanted that back.

She spoke again, this time her words less certain. ‘I think he should be evacuated and have a bronchoscopy.’

She reminded him of a resident who knew her stuff but lacked confidence in her judgement. It was a scenario he was used to but today it surprised him because as a country GP she must be used to making decisions all the time. Glad to be back on familiar territory, he moved to reassure her.

‘It’s a good call. The choking might have been an accident but he’s at an age where you need to rule out multiple sclerosis or other muscular conditions.’

‘Let’s hope it was just an accident, Nick Dennison.’ She raised light brown brows at him. ‘You are the Nick Dennison, youngest appointed head of Emergency Medicine in Australia?’

He studied her pretty features, looking for something that would spark his memory, but nothing did. Surely if they’d dated or worked together he would never have forgotten those eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, knowing there was no point denying the truth. ‘That’s me. I’m sorry, have we met before?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. I attended one of your lectures when I was a resident at Prince William Hospital. I was on duty that night and wasn’t able to go to the dinner afterwards, but I think you met a friend of mine, Virginia Charters.’ She shot him a knowing look. One that said, You didn’t call.

He had no recollection of Virginia Charters but then again, that entire lecture tour had been a blur of cities, lecture theatres and women eager to date him. He loved women and he loved dating. He just didn’t love or date one woman.

He took a punt on the type of women he’d accepted invitations from, women he’d wined, dined and satisfied before his world had imploded. Before he’d lost complete interest. ‘Ah, Virginia…brunette and vivacious?’

He caught the surprised and almost disappointed look cross her face that he sounded like he’d remembered.

‘Yes, that’s Virginia. I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you but you look very different from how I remember.’

He grinned, wanting to keep things light. He had no intention of telling her what had happened to him. He had no intention of anyone in Port ever knowing. His time here was all about wellness and no way was he looking back. ‘It’s the lack of a suit, a lectern and the slide presentation glowing behind me.’

Her mouth immediately widened into a broad smile that soared to her amazing eyes. Eyes that filled with coloured prisms, the many hues of blue which spun and twirled like the shards in a kaleidoscope.

His heart jolted hard in his chest and his breath stalled as a flicker of almost forgotten heat surged deep inside him.

Lust?

Yes! He wanted to whoop with delight.

His libido had vanished the day his world had changed but today it was back, albeit dusty and creaky. Four months of opting out of the mainstream and concentrating on his health was paying off. His body was back.

Suddenly his fascination with her eyes, her mouth and her curves made sense. It wasn’t Kirby Atherton per se. She just happened to be the first pretty woman he’d come across that coincided with his recovery. He relaxed into the knowledge as his world came reassuringly back into kilter.

Kirby briskly went through the motions of handing over Garry’s care to the Barago Hospital and organising Jake into the care of his aunt. Four phone calls and an hour later she had it all sorted but throughout the process her mind had buzzed continuously with the fact that Melbourne’s most well-known ER doctor, the man aptly dubbed ‘the playboy doctor’, was in sleepy Port Bathurst.

The stories about him said he worked hard and played hard and he was well known for hitting the trendy clubs and bars until the early hours. He and her friend Virginia had shared an intense twenty-four hours and Kirby had been the shoulder Virginia had cried on when he hadn’t called afterwards. She’d also been the voice of reason, pointing out that Ginny had virtually thrown herself at him and to give the man credit, he’d never promised her anything other than a good time. That he’d apparently delivered.

At the time, Kirby had had the advantage of distance because she had been cheerfully engaged, blissfully happy and busy planning her future of marriage, motherhood and medicine. Although she could appreciate the model good looks of urbane and sophisticated men like Nick, she’d always fallen for the guy-next-door type— the home-town handyman slash family man.

Anthony only talked about fixing things, remember? Then he hired someone else to do it.

She shoved away the unwanted thought that reminded her of how blind she’d been and refocussed on the memories of her friend. Ginny had been the one to go for tall dark and handsome. Except Nick hadn’t been dark then, he’d been blond, which was part of the reason she hadn’t recognised him. Today his hair was shorter and darker and physically he was thinner but more toned.

She ran her fingers through her hair. Nick Dennison and Port Bathurst just didn’t match. Port didn’t have a cutting-edge emergency department and as for nightlife, well, the recent crazy whist night at the tennis club had pushed the envelope. Lasting until midnight, the hall had rocked because someone had brought along their CD player and got people up to dance after the cards had finished. Nick in Port was like the translated instruction booklet that came with her new bookshelves—it made no sense. Her mind went round and round, stuck in a loop.

Who cares why he’s here? He’s a doctor with a wealth of experience.

The truth sliced sharply through everything else, stripping away all irrelevancies. Nick was a doctor and she needed a doctor and a mentor. The equation balanced perfectly. Nick working in Port alongside her meant she could stay in the town.

It didn’t matter that he was a party boy, a smooth-as-silk charmer and heart-stoppingly gorgeous. She’d given up men and men like Nick had never been her type anyway. No, this would be a professional association only and keep her GP training on schedule.

The only thing left to do was ask him if he would work the summer season with her. Rolling back her shoulders, she headed toward the market to professionally proposition Dr Nick Dennison.

She arrived at Nick’s stall and her heart skipped a beat as she watched him in complete control but cloaked by a lazy charm. Out of his suit and white coat he looked much more like the sort of guy she’d once been attracted to. Breathe. This one is not for you. No man is for you.

He was serving a customer, his amazing green eyes and his total attention completely focussed on Phyllis Gutherson, Port’s resident naysayer. But her usually sour expression had vanished and in its place was a girlish smile. She looked twenty years younger.

Waiting her turn and shaking her head in wonder at how he’d achieved such a miracle, Kirby bobbed down next to Nick’s dog and scratched his ears. ‘Your master could charm diamonds from jewel thieves, couldn’t he?’

Large brown eyes gazed adoringly up at her as the dog laid his head in her lap.

‘Turbo, stop it.’

At the sound of the deep, commanding voice, both the dog and Kirby looked up.

A smile met her gaze. A smile that fizzed intoxicatingly through her like the bubbles of champagne. Her bent knees liquefied and she wobbled slightly as she rose to her feet.

He leaned casually against the stall table. ‘That dog will turn on the charm if he thinks it will get him something.’

‘Gosh, and I wonder where he learned that from.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘You just managed to make Port Bathurst history by getting Phyllis Gutherson to smile, and charming her into buying your last item of produce. I mean, who eats radishes?’

This time his grin had a tinge of guilt to it, not dissimilar to that of a kid caught out sneaking biscuits too close to dinner. ‘I will concede I might have used a well-placed compliment or two to move the radishes but, hey, I just sold everything I harvested for my first market.’ He raised his hand as his eyes danced with elation—joy, pure and simple.

Without thought, she raised her hand to meet his, drawn completely by his enthusiastic aura that seemed to wrap around her, pulling her in. Her palm connected with his in a slap of celebration.

Heat tore through her hard and fast, ricocheting from skin to muscle to deep tissue and fanning out until every cell vibrated with its legacy and she tingled all over. Tingled in a way she never had before, not even with Anthony, the man she’d loved and thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. Horrified, she jerked her arm back to the safety of her side.

Remember why you’re here. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. ‘That’s fabulous. Congratulations. Can I buy you a cup of coffee to help you celebrate and to say thank you for your help with Garry?’

‘Thanks for the offer, but I have to pack up here first and I don’t want to hold you up.’ He picked up some boxes and stowed them into the back of a ute.

Kirby hauled her gaze away from his rippling biceps and tried to keep her focus on why she was actually here. She didn’t just want to blurt out, ‘Please work with me.’ The situation needed more finesse than that. ‘How about I give you a hand and then we go for coffee?’ Don’t sound so needy. ‘If that suits you.’

Emerald eyes studied her for a brief moment. ‘OK, it’s a deal.’ He tipped over the wooden trestle and grabbed the old metal supports, his broad palm wrapping deftly around them.

Kirby had a sudden image of a leather tool belt sitting flat across his washboard abdomen and him fixing all her sticking sash windows. Stay focussed. He’s a doctor, not a handyman.

‘Excellent.’ She passed him boxes and watched him stack them as if they were a mathematical problem. ‘How long have you been in Port?’

‘Technically, I’m not in Port because I don’t live here.’ He slid the long trestle into the ute.

Kirby’s gut went into freefall. With his vegetable selling she’d assumed he lived here. Her plan depended on him living close by.

He paused in his stacking and extended a muscular arm out toward the mountainous rainforest area behind the town. ‘My property’s Riversleigh, thirty K out, near Sheep-wash Corner.’

Her gut steadied. She was still in the game—just. Sheep-wash Corner was pretty isolated, even more out of the way than Port. Nick Dennison hadn’t just left Melbourne for Sleepy Hollow, he’d gone bush, a tree-change. But why? The situation got even more intriguing. ‘How long have you lived out there?’

His cheerful open face suddenly closed, and the dimples in his cheeks smoothed over. ‘Four months.’

He handed her one end of a tarpaulin. ‘What about you?’

She caught the deft change, the power switch in the conversation, and she pulled the tarp tight, just like her mother had taught her as a child when she folded sheets. He didn’t want to talk about why he was here. ‘I’ve been here since the start of the month.’ She walked up to him to match her corners to his.

‘Is this a long-term plan for you?’ His fingers slid over hers as he moved to accept the tarp.

The sharp tingle of sensation almost made her drop her corners and she found herself gripping them instead of releasing them into his hands. The moment she let go, she flexed her fingers, willing the shimmering away.

Since the age of twelve Kirby had been tall and she was used to being a similar height to many men. But she had to tilt her head to look up into Nick’s face. It disconcerted her. He disconcerted her. ‘It’s a summer plan to start with. I’m doing a six-month GP rotation.’ Six months to pull herself together.

‘A summer by the sea. Sounds relaxing.’ His dimples reappeared, deepening as he smiled.

Her heartbeat seemed to skip. How could one man’s smile make her feel almost dizzy? This is your opening—grab it. The practical words broke into the haze that enveloped her brain. ‘Actually, apart from a run along the pier in the mornings, that is as close as I’ve got to the beach.’

He slapped his palm down on the tailgate of the ute and Turbo immediately jumped onto the tray, turned around and lay down. ‘Quiet Port Bathurst been keeping you busy?’

‘It’s hardly quiet! Between the residents, the work with Kids’ Cottage and now the tourists arriving, I can barely get to the laundrette on a Sunday to do my washing. I had easier days back at Royal William.’ She stared straight up at him. ‘I’m surprised the hospital board didn’t approach you when you moved down here.’

His hands stilled for a fraction on the tailgate. ‘Until this morning, the hospital board didn’t know I was a doctor.’ He slammed the back of the ute shut and wiped his hands on an old towel. ‘No one did.’

His words stunned her. ‘Why on earth not?’

A shadow passed through his eyes, like a cloud scudding across the sun. ‘Because I didn’t come here to practise medicine.’

Her plan, so clear and perfect in her head, took a massive broadside hit, but she wasn’t letting go just yet. ‘But you’re a talented doctor and Port needs you.’

Dark brows drew together, causing a crease at the bridge of his nose. ‘No, it doesn’t, Kirby. Port’s got you. Besides, I’m an accident and emergency specialist, not a GP, and right now I’m really not interested in working.’

She wanted to stamp her feet. She had the ideal mentor in front of her and he didn’t want to work. She chewed her lip as her limited options ran through her head. With a deep breath she played the only card she had left in her deck. Honesty. She raised her gaze to his and spoke from the heart. ‘Without your help, I can’t work here.’

Over the last couple of months Nick had said an enthusiastic ‘No’ to five job offers from hospitals around the country with barely a second thought about his decision. But one glance from Kirby’s blue eyes, swirling with honesty and tinged with pleading, and suddenly every reason for not working was teetering on unsteady foundations. ‘What do you mean, you can’t work here without my help?’

‘How well do you know Port?’

‘I don’t really know it at all. I come here for the market but I use Barago as my centre for supplies as it’s bigger.’

She laced her fingers, moving them back and forth against the backs of her hands. ‘Soon after I arrived in Port, Christopher Grayson, the town’s GP, fell ill.’

Ignoring the wavering feeling, he stuck firmly to the facts. ‘When is Grayson due back?’

Her gaze held his with a steady look. ‘He’s not. Unfortunately, he had a stroke and he’s currently in rehab.’

He shoved his hands in his pockets, empathy weaving through him for a man who had a battle on his hands. But this wasn’t his problem and there was another solution. The foundations steadied. ‘So you advertise for another doctor to help you with the workload.’

She sighed, tucking stray hair behind her ear. ‘It’s not just the workload. I came to Port as part of my GP rotation.’

The image of her tugging at her bottom lip when she was deciding to send Garry to Barago beamed against his brain. His chest tightened. Suddenly her hesitancy and lack of confidence made sense. ‘Please don’t tell me this is your first six-month GP rotation.’

‘It is.’

Damn it. He slammed his right fist into his left hand. ‘So without supervision you can’t practise?’ But the question was rhetorical, he knew the answer.

‘Not in Port, no.’

He wasn’t ready to work in medicine just yet. He’d promised himself six more months, just savouring being well. Hell, surely he deserved that after everything he’d been through. He ran his hand across the back of his neck, trying to sort out his thoughts. He had no connection with this woman, no reason to turn his plans upside down to help her. The obvious solution shot into his head. ‘You could go elsewhere to do your rotation or back to Royal William.’

A shudder of tension moved through her. ‘Royal William isn’t an option I want to pursue. Look, Port has already lost one doctor, so it can’t afford to lose me.’ She tilted her head and the brilliant blue of her eyes flickered over him, pulling hard at his sense of duty. ‘And you wouldn’t do that to a rural community who’s so enthusiastically embraced your organic vegetable venture, would you?’

The words hit like a flyball, hard and unexpected. The woman in front of him with her long, blonde hair, honey-gold skin and an air of vulnerability had suddenly transformed from a pleading porcelain doll to a steely blackmailer. He could turn down large hospitals where there were plenty of other contenders for the job but she had him backed into a corner where his ‘no’ would impact on many hard-working people.

He wanted to kick the tyres on the ute, he wanted to be back on the farm digging over beds filled with fragrant soil, he wanted to be anywhere but here, dealing with an unwinnable ethical dilemma. He crossed his arms and took in a deep breath. ‘That’s true, no town deserves to be without a doctor.’

‘So you will work in Port this summer?’ Expectation and enthusiastic anticipation filled her voice.

A flood of heat collided with frustration. Well, she wasn’t getting everything her own way. ‘I’ll mentor you and give you the supervision you need, but I’m warning you now, I’m a tough teacher and I’ll expect one hundred and ten per cent.’ The words came out on a growl—the one he’d perfected to keep his interns on their toes. ‘But as for working, well, it will be with strict conditions.’

He waited, expecting to see signs of anxiety at his mild threat about being a tough teacher, and he certainly expected to see both disappointment and hear questions about the conditions he planned to impose.

But her mouth widened into a smile that raced to her eyes and seemed to dance around her like the white light of sparklers. ‘That’s fantastic. You won’t regret this, Nick, it will be a fabulous summer.’

But every single part of him regretted it already.