Читать книгу Partners By Contract - Ким Лоренс, Kim Lawrence - Страница 7

‘DO YOU believe in love at first sight?’

This dreamy question, inserted into a debate that had up to this point revolved around whether the current flu outbreak was going to reach epidemic proportions, brought an exchange of amused, indulgent looks from the other women who had gathered, coffee-mugs in hand, around Dr Phoebe Miller’s desk.

‘I don’t suppose there’s much point asking whether you do, Sally?’ Fran Green, the health visitor attached to the Hayfield Surgery, remarked dryly, pushing her mug aside and getting to her feet.

There was a general murmur of low-voiced laughter in response to this comment. Sally, the most junior receptionist to join the practice reluctantly withdrew her gaze from the brand-new diamond ring sparkling on her finger.

‘What?’ she demanded defensively, a self-conscious flush mounting the smooth contours of her attractive pointed pixie face. ‘It’s not my fault you’re all disgustingly cynical...’ She paused in mid complaint, mindful of practice manager Ellen Patterson’s recent warning that she needed to cultivate a more respectful attitude towards the medical staff. Not that it had ever seemed to her that anyone other than Ellen herself was bothered about such things.

In fact, Sally couldn’t help but reflect that Hayfield had been a much nicer and more relaxed place to work before the tall, statuesque blonde had returned from her winter holiday on the ski slopes.

Surgery nurse Grace Winston consulted the fob watch pinned to her ample bosom and swigged back the last dregs of her coffee. She gave the young girl a comforting pat on the shoulder as she, too, got to her feet.

‘The girl’s right, ladies. The truth is, Sally, my dear, we’re a bunch of spiteful old cows disgustingly jealous of you and your lovely Marty. You keep hold of your youthful ideals as long as you can,’ she recommended warmly, swiping the last chocolate biscuit off the plate. ‘Come along, Kate,’ she added, turning with a dramatic flourish to the student nurse she had in tow that morning. ‘Flu jabs await us.’

‘Good take-up for the flu vaccine this year, Grace?’ Fran asked, checking through her bag to see if she had all the notes she needed for her afternoon visits.

‘A lot better than last year...’

‘I do.’

The quietly spoken, dark-haired locum who was gazing through the window, a far-away look in her wide-spaced amber eyes, immediately became the focus of attention.

If that attention made Phoebe Miller feel self-conscious, she hid it better than the newly engaged eighteen-year-old. This wasn’t entirely surprising. After all, she’d had ten years more practice at doing so. Though when she looked at Sally, Phoebe found it hard to believe she’d ever been as dewy-eyed and idealistic as the young girl.

No, Phoebe had always been the realist in the family. She’d had enough common sense for both herself and her twin sister, Penny, which, given Penny’s impulsive nature, had been just as well! Occasionally, when she found herself doing or saying the sensible thing, Phoebe wondered if she’d been born cautious or had become that way out of necessity.

‘Do what, Phoebe?’

Phoebe tucked a section of dark shiny hair, which was inclined to escape the simple ponytail that confined her shoulder-length hair, behind her ear.

‘I believe in love at first sight,’ she mumbled reluctantly. Some things, she reflected uneasily, were better left unsaid.

Grace silently motioned the student nurse back from the door and eased her generously padded bottom back into a chair. ‘What was that you said, Phoebe?’

Phoebe gritted her teeth and smiled in the face of mounting embarrassment. She was well aware that Grace knew exactly what she’d said.

‘I believe in love at first sight!’ she responded in a belligerent, want-to-make-something-of-it manner that made the other women stare—as a rule, serene and unruffled best described the young GP.

How could Phoebe not believe in love at first sight when she’d seen it happen right under her nose? Even now, she still recalled the instant they’d come face to face—the chemistry had been instantaneous. The man who had been her flatmate and close friend for two years had taken one look at her identical twin and been smitten, and Penny, being Penny, hadn’t tried to hide the fact that she’d felt the same way, too.

If you want something, Phoebe, go for it, life’s too short, Penny had been fond of advising her more cautious sister. As it had turned out, it had been all too tragically true in Penny’s case—her life had been too short. The loss of her twin was still like an empty aching hole in the pit of Phoebe’s stomach. It was the sort of ache that you couldn’t prescribe anything for.

Phoebe doubted if either Penny or Connor had even noticed when she’d made some awkward excuse and left them alone—they’d only had eyes and ears for each other. Had anyone asked Phoebe, she couldn’t have told them a single thing about the film she’d sat through three consecutive times that evening. She’d had other things on her mind... Jealousy wasn’t a nice thing, but when the person you were jealous of was your twin it was a million times worse.

‘You?’

Sally’s incredulous response wrenched Phoebe clear of the painful memories. Her lips twitched, it was clear that she was the very last person in the world that Sally had expected support from.

How did the other girl see her? she speculated, for a moment trying to see herself through the young woman’s eyes. Too old, too cold? Maybe she was right on both counts, Phoebe reflected glumly. Compared to Sally, she felt extremely old indeed, and as for the other... A surreptitious glance around the room revealed to Phoebe that the other women were as flabbergasted as Sally by her claim, though not quite so transparently so.

‘I take it you’re speaking from personal experience?’ The irrepressible Grace voiced the question everyone else was aching to ask.

Not at first sight or even hundredth sight, for that matter! It had taken the sight of her twin sister falling very obviously in love to make Phoebe realise that she and Penny had had identical tastes in men—right down to falling in love with the same one! The difference had been that it hadn’t taken Penny three years to figure it out!

Grace’s eyes widened as, improbably, a faint but definite rush of colour heightened the pale, flawless complexion of their cool and collected locum.

‘Why, you dark horse, you. Who is he?’ she teased good-naturedly. ‘Anyone we know?’

Very well, as it happens, Phoebe could have said—but didn’t. Her dismayed eyes passed from one eager, expectant face to the next—it was pretty clear that there was no way they were going to let her escape without her offering up some sort of token explanation.

This is what you get for being enigmatic, Phoebe, she told herself dourly. At least enigmatic had been the way her colleagues had chosen to read her reserved silence on the subject of her love life. Her silence hadn’t been intended to keep a steamy love life private but to hide the shameful fact she didn’t have a love life! In the end all her silence had done had been to fuel their speculation.

‘It didn’t happen to me. I’m a bit slow in that department.’ A fleeting self-derisive smile flickered across her face. ‘But my sister fell in love at first sight,’ she explained quietly, recovering from her brief loss of control.

‘And was it requited?’ Grace persisted.

‘Extremely requited,’ Phoebe admitted, her normally mobile features very still.

Penny had been gone when she’d eventually returned to the flat that first night. Unaware of her presence, Connor had strolled into the living room, his blond hair tousled as if he’d just woken—or just finished making love? Phoebe had shut herself in her room and tortured herself a lot with imaginary details for the rest of that night and many more after that. The first chance she’d got she’d moved out of the flat, not caring if her excuse for the sudden departure had sounded lame.

‘How marvellous!’ Sally sighed. ‘Did they get married?’

‘The child still equates marriage with happy-ever-after,’ the recently divorced Fran Green contributed with a a jaundiced scowl. ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’

‘Yes, they did get married, Sally,’ Phoebe admitted, smiling at the girl.

Sally shot Fran a triumphant look. ‘And I bet they were blissfully happy! They were, weren’t they, Dr Miller?’

‘Until Penny died, yes.’

There was a painful silence.

‘I’m so sorry, Phoebe...’ Grace looked stricken, she loved a piece of juicy gossip, but she had a kind heart.

‘You weren’t to know,’ Phoebe responded, pinning on her best stoical smile. ‘And it was a long time ago,’ she added in an effort to lessen their collective embarrassment. ‘Now, I’d better get on with my visits or Ellen will be complaining I’m not pulling my weight,’ she said ruefully, rising gracefully to her feet and lifting the grey jacket of her trouser suit off the back of her chair.

‘Talking of which, Sally...’ She nodded tactfully towards the clock on the wall. Phoebe wasn’t the only person that could do nothing right in the critical eyes of the practice manager.

With a flustered exclamation the receptionist shot to her feet.

The other women were still smiling at the ludicrous idea of the industrious Dr Miller malingering. During the weeks she’d been at the practice Phoebe had established herself as a bit of a workaholic, as well as being nice.

Niceness notwithstanding, their practice manager seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her on her return the previous week, and had taken every opportunity to keep her in her place. Even Dr Will Edwards, who wasn’t renowned for his keen powers of observation had been heard to comment on the situation.

‘I reckon she sees you as competition, Phoebe,’ the young receptionist mused halfway to the door. ‘Perhaps she thinks Dr Carlyle will fancy you. Sorry!’ She grimaced and pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘It just slipped out.’

‘You know, I think the girl’s right!’ Fran exclaimed as Sally disappeared.

Everyone automatically looked at Phoebe, taking in her tall graceful figure, her mane of thick glossy hair only a shade removed from pure jet, her clear flawless skin, wide-spaced amber eyes and the mouth that was both sexy and vulnerable. One by one they nodded their agreement.

Phoebe, deeply embarrassed by the scrutiny, turned a pretty pink.

‘Miss Patterson is an excellent practice manager,’ she observed, frantically trying to steer the subject into less personal channels.

‘And a first-class cow,’ Grace supplied cheerfully.

Phoebe, who had a lot of sympathy with this view, was hard put not to echo this sentiment.

‘And she’s going to marry the boss,’ the student added.

‘Who,’ Grace asked, ‘told you that?’

‘Why, she did,’ came the bewildered response. ‘Well, not in so many words, but I got the impression she and Dr Carlyle were...’

You and me both, thought Phoebe, adding a fresh pad of prescription sheets to her bag and trying not to look as though she had anything more than a passing interest in the subject. After all these years, it was nothing to her personally if Connor chose to marry—in fact, she’d be happy for him. She’d concluded that it was just his supposed choice of bride that had been making her feel uneasy.

‘She wishes!’ Fran snorted with a dismissive laugh.

‘Well, they went on holiday together, didn’t they?’ Kate asked, puzzled.

‘There’s together and then there’s together,’ Grace explained. ‘There was a place left in the chalet that madam and her mates were renting in France and she persuaded Connor to go along. I don’t expect she bargained for him busting his knee. A bit of a passion-killer, a ruptured cruciate ligament.’

There was a group wince at the thought of the painful knee injury, feared by all sensible athletes. Not only was it excruciatingly painful when one of the main ligaments supporting the knee tore, there was also a lengthy period of recuperation after the surgical repair.

‘At least he’s had it sorted straight away. These ski resorts generally ship you back home to languish for months on our waiting list. I suppose it helps if you went to school with the surgeon,’ Fran mused cynically. ‘I get the impression our Ellen is a bit miffed because he didn’t want her to stay behind and play Flo Nightingale.’

‘I hate to play devil’s advocate,’ Grace interjected, ‘but it didn’t happen until the last day of the holiday. That gave Ellen ten days...’

‘To do what?’ The student enquired innocently.

‘Use your imagination, Kate,’ came the scornful response.

Phoebe already was, as her churning stomach could have attested.

* * *

‘Can I help you, sir?’ Sally asked the tall man who made his halting progress towards her desk. She stifled a tiny sigh of appreciation. Whilst she was deeply and madly in love with her Marty, that didn’t stop her looking, and this splendid specimen of manhood was seriously worth looking at!

Several inches above six feet, broad of shoulder and snakily slim of hip, he had the body of an athlete, albeit an injured one at present. She tried not to goggle too obviously as he approached.

‘And who might you be?’ The stranger had a distinctively deep voice with a fascinating sexy rasp.

‘I’m Sally...Miss Winter...’ The blue eyes—which, as she later explained to her best friend, seemed to be able to see right into her soul—made her even more flustered.

‘I’m here to see Dr Edwards.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

The blond head was shaken and Sally, who had spent the previous Saturday morning and more money than she could afford having highlights put in her mousy locks, felt a surge of jealousy. The streaks in this man’s thick corn-coloured hair were obviously natural, as were his ultra-long dark eyelashes that framed his sky blue eyes. There was just no justice in the world!

‘I’m sorry but he’s fully booked up...’ She consulted the computer screen. ‘He could see you tomorrow morn—Sir, you can’t go back there... Sir...!’ Her alarmed cries as the tall figure went, as cool as a cucumber, right through the door marked PRIVATE brought Will Edwards, sandwich in hand, out of his consulting room.

‘Who’s being murdered?’ he began, then he spotted the figure swinging towards him on crutches and choked on his lettuce and bacon. ‘Good heavens! What the hell are you doing here?’

The intruder grinned and the flash of white teeth not only increased his gorgeousness factor but sent his danger factor soaring also. Sally prayed they weren’t dealing with a violent lunatic because even with those crutches she was pretty sure he’d make mincemeat of nice Dr Edwards.

‘Shall I call the police? I told him not to, but he didn’t take any notice of me,’ Sally piped up, anxious to establish her innocence from the outset.

‘Don’t worry, Sally, he rarely does,’ came the dry response. ‘Your confidence in my ability to run things is touching, Connor, really touching,’ Will sighed.

‘Then he’s—’

‘The boss, our esteemed senior partner—that’s right Sally,’ Will confirmed, without removing his critical gaze from his friend’s face. ‘A tan hides a multitude of sins, Con, but it can’t work miracles. You look awful,’ he announced frankly.

‘Always the enviable bedside manner,’ drawled Connor, who did indeed feel pretty awful after the flight from Geneva. ‘These bloody crutches,’ he growled as he knocked into a decorative bank of pot plants.

Sally ran to clear his path, feeling deeply indignant that nobody had seen fit to mention that their boss was a seriously gorgeous hunk! Her mum still drooled over Robert Redford and this bloke was a dead spit for the actor in his hey day.

‘I’m sorry I gave you a fright...Sally, is it?’

Will watched the Carlyle smile work its magic with the air of a man who wasn’t seeing the female response to this phenomenon for the first time. In less scrupulous hands that smile could have been a lethal tool, but fortunately Connor had more scruples than most—except when he got a bee in his bonnet about some injustice or other. Then he was inclined to use whatever means necessary and make everyone’s life thoroughly uncomfortable into the bargain.

‘Oh that’s all right. I’ll just...shall I, Dr Carlyle?’

‘Yes, you do that, Sally,’ Will remarked, giving the girl a gentle push in the right direction. ‘Dr Carlyle and I have a lot to talk about.’ He rounded grimly on his friend. ‘Such as why the hell aren’t you still in hospital in Geneva, Connor?’

‘The truth is, Will, I was bored out of my skull.’

His friend and partner snorted. ‘The truth is, you don’t think this place can survive without you at the helm.’

‘A man wants to pull his weight and all his friends can do is accuse him of being a control freak,’ a frustrated Connor grumbled, repressing a grin. You couldn’t pull the wool over Will’s eyes. He leant against the wall and adjusted one of the Velcro straps which held the protective padding that swathed his injured leg from thigh to ankle.

‘Pulling your weight! You couldn’t pull a pint!’ Will retorted scornfully. ‘I worry about you, man. I enjoy my work as much as anyone, but with you it’s an...an obsession!’ he accused. ‘How long had it been since you took a holiday—what, four, five years? And you wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t all but bought your ticket and put you on the plane!’

Connor touched his injured leg. ‘Does that mean you’re taking responsibility for this, too?’ he wondered dryly.

‘You shouldn’t have been trying so hard to impress the lovely Ellen with your prowess,’ Will retorted, grinning unsympathetically.

‘Is she around?’ Connor asked casually.

‘Holed up with a rep. Shall I call her for you?’

‘Don’t disturb her on my account,’ Connor insisted, a wary light in his eyes.

Even if he’d been in the market for a light-hearted relationship, it had soon become clear that the lovely Ellen had something a lot more serious in mind. It was hard to believe that all the cosy moments—and there had been many—had occurred without a little bit of forward planning on somebody’s part.

‘Did romance blossom on the slopes?’

‘Mind your own damn business.’

‘Would it be such a bad thing if it did?’

‘Is that a rhetorical question?’

‘I’m only saying this because I’m your mate, Con, but don’t you think it’s about time you got a life?’ Will suggested cautiously. Con could be quite touchy about personal matters.

Suddenly everybody thought they knew what he needed. Connor struggled to keep his growing irritation under control. The trouble with Will was he’d made such a good job of the whole marriage and babies thing that he was labouring under the false impression it was simple. Connor knew otherwise.

‘We can’t all be such a well-rounded individual as yourself, Will. Do you mind if I sit down?’ Connor asked, easing his weight onto his good leg.

‘Of course...of course. I suppose you’ve come straight from the airport? I thought as much! You imbecile,’ Will growled affectionately. ‘If a patient of yours acted like this you’d be blowing your stack,’ he confidently predicted, opening the door of his office wider and kicking a swivel chair out his partner’s way.

‘Any more new faces I should know about, Will?’

‘Only the locum, who I will not hear a word against,’ Will warned sternly. ‘She’s the answer to a harassed GP’s prayers.’

Connor’s darkish, well-defined eyebrows rose quizzically. ‘That good?’ He propped his crutches against the desk and prepared to lower himself cautiously into a convenient chair.

‘Better. I rather hoped she might consider staying on. The authorities are still making loud noises about us taking on another partner.’

They’d been thinking about taking on another pair of hands for some time. The practice had grown to the point where it was too large for the partners and their junior Alan Field to cope with, but they hadn’t got around to doing anything about it.

‘I sounded her out, making it clear the offer would be dependent on your approval.’

‘Of course.’ Connor responded dryly.

‘But...’

‘No go?’

‘’Fraid not, which is a shame because she fits in so well. Everyone likes her—well, almost everyone.’

Before Connor could plead for a bit of clarification on this last point Will grinned widely at some point over Connor’s shoulder.

‘And speaking of the angel,’ Will began, raising his voice, ‘here she is. Phoebe, come along and meet our senior partner!’ he called out to the group of women who were making their way down the carpeted corridor.

His words were greeted with an assorted selection of astonished squeals, cries and a gentle stampede.

‘Connor, back!’

‘The man can’t keep away from us.’

The babble around Connor became a distant irritating buzz. He must have responded and said the right things because people carried on smiling and laughing. He probably did, too, though inside shock had his guts in a frozen fist.

Phoebe’s case slid in slow motion from her nerveless fingers and, without her being aware of it, she grabbed hold of the radiator beside her, the heat making no impact on her icily cold hand. In fact, nothing made much impact at all but those electric blue eyes—more intense than any laser and just as precision-focused—which were fixed unblinkingly on her face.

She didn’t know how long it took for the thundering in her ears to become a gentle roar or her vocal chords to thaw.

She cleared her throat and willed her lips to form a casual smile.

‘Hello, Con.’ No needy tremor—thank goodness—just a slight huskiness.

He didn’t respond and, very conscious of the watching eyes, Phoebe moved forward with a firm, confident tread that belied her inner turmoil. She thought about extending her hand, but had second thoughts. It would be too embarrassing if he refused to accept the gesture of friendship. She thrust it instead into the pocket of her fitted trousers.

She forced herself to look directly at him, the experience about as soothing as plugging herself directly into the national grid.

What changes there had been were subtle—a more pronounced suggestion of muscularity about his broad shoulders and chest, and possibly the fine lines that radiated from spectacular eyes and bracketed his firm sensual mouth were more deeply engrained than they had been four years ago—but essentially he was still the same Con that Phoebe recalled.

Not a person prone to self-deception, Phoebe didn’t have the luxury of pretending even to herself that it was only shock that had sent her nervous system spiralling out of control. She’d often wondered how she’d cope if she saw him again. Now she knew—she wouldn’t! This wasn’t information she felt any desire to share.

‘You two know one another...?’ Will looked from one to the other, a perplexed expression on his pleasant face.

‘You could say that. We lived together for three years.’ This casual bombshell was delivered totally straight-faced. Not unnaturally, it caused jaws to drop. ‘How are you, Phoebe?’

If that had been a deliberate attempt to unsettle her, he needn’t have bothered—she was already semi-catatonic. Against a backdrop of thunderous heart-pounding Phoebe gave a brittle smile.

‘I’m fine...just fine.’ She prayed she wouldn’t prove herself a liar by falling in a heap on the floor. ‘Such a surprise...’ she gulped. No lie this time!

She’d spent the last four years filling the gap this man had left in her life. Now she knew how spectacularly unsuccessful she’d been.

‘For me, too.’ Their gazes meshed. Phoebe flinched. Connor’s expression didn’t suggest that the surprise had been a pleasant one. She’d anticipated some residual hostility, maybe even a dollop of cringing embarrassment if and when they eventually met up again, but not this level of cold, savage fury.

‘We shared a flat as students, though Con was a couple of years ahead of me.’

If Con wasn’t going to go into details, neither was she. Their audience heard her hasty explanation with a disappointed air.

‘This is quite a coincidence, Con.’

‘Is that what it is?’

Her chin went up. ‘You always were the sharp one,’ she responded tensely. ‘The truth is out, folks,’ she announced flippantly. ‘I’ve been stalking the man for years—on account of his magnetic personality and startling good looks, you understand.’

Her words were greeted with general laughter. Phoebe hoped that the person her words had been aimed at had received the message. All she needed now was for Con to run away with the idea she had in some way contrived this situation.

‘That’s our leader all right,’ Grace agreed, blowing a kiss in his direction before heading off with her student in tow. Connor’s eyes stayed on Phoebe’s face as Fran hugged him, then his gaze drifted reluctantly away.

‘You should have said you knew Con, Phoebe,’ Will said, a puzzled frown knitting his brow.

‘Oh, we lost touch years ago.’ She glanced at her watch and murmured a realistic-sounding squeal of horror. ‘Is that the time already?’

‘I expect she didn’t think I’d recognise her,’ Connor drawled.

How could he joke about it? Talk about bad taste! Phoebe shot him a reproachful look and discovered that his expression wasn’t nearly as careless as his tone. His brooding examination sent an electrical surge through her tense frame.

‘Heavens, I’m running late! I must dash,’ she babbled. No longer caring if Will thought her behaviour odd, she did just that, as fast as her long legs would carry her.

Her heart was thumping, only not from the burst of speed, by the time she inserted the key shakily in the lock of the car door. This is all my fault, she thought. Why didn’t I turn and run the moment I realised that Connor worked here? Oh, she’d spent plenty of time rationalising the decision, but the bottom line was that she’d known all along it had been crazy and self-indulgent to stay.

She stood still for a few moments, waiting for waves of nausea to pass. When they did she hastily slid into the driver’s seat, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she did so. A showdown was inevitable but she wanted to choose the time and place. She was about to drive away when Will thumped the roof of her car. She let out a cry and jumped a mile.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,’ Will said as the window slid down.

‘Well you did!’ she barked. ‘Sorry, Will, I’m just...I hate being late,’ she ended lamely.

Easygoing Will brushed aside her stumbling apology. ‘I was wondering, Phoebe, are you calling in on Rob Marlow this morning?’

‘I thought I would, yes.’

Phoebe was relieved the conversation had turned to more professional matters. Here at least she felt in control. Rob Marlow had been the first patient she’d seen at Hayfield. It had taken Phoebe about two seconds to see beyond his outward aggressive behaviour to the fearful young man beneath.

‘We’ve been discussing the idea of him getting used to using a long stick now while his sight is still reasonable.’

The young computer programmer had been diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, a congenital inherited degenerative eye condition, some years before, but up until recently he’d been able to lead a normal life as night blindness had been the only manifestation of the disease. Over the previous months, however, Rob had lost a significant degree of peripheral vision, leaving him with tunnel vision.

Will looked impressed. ‘When I suggested a white stick, he told me in no uncertain terms what I could do with it.’

‘I think the counselling is helping him come to terms with things,’ Phoebe responded modestly.

‘Bad timing, the fiancée walking out on him like she did. Hardly surprising the poor bloke went into denial.’

Phoebe nodded. ‘I’m sure she had her reasons,’ she agreed diplomatically. From things Rob had let slip, she suspected that ‘pushed’ rather than ‘walked’ would have been a more accurate description. ‘But,’ she continued on a genuinely upbeat note, ‘Rob’s one of life’s survivors. He seems determined to make the most of what sight he eventually retains.’

‘Good, good!’ Will approved benignly. ‘And if you’re heading out that way, would you mind dropping Con off at his place? It’s only a mile or so past the Marlows’ farm. I wouldn’t ask but I’ve got a clinic, and the idiot came straight here from the airport. And if you know Con, you’ll know he must be feeling pretty hellish if he admits to feeling off-colour. Here he is now...’

Phoebe’s smile became fixed as the tall, achingly familiar figure appeared, making his way towards them. The way he moved was as firmly lodged in her brain as the sound of his voice, the gold tips of the ends of his long eyelashes or the shape of his elegant hands. Right now his loose-limbed elegance was severely hampered by his injury, but it didn’t stop a stab of pure sexual longing from jolting through her with the force of a lightning bolt.

Nothing had changed! It wasn’t the best moment to discover that she’d been successfully in denial for the last four years. Her first instinct was to drive away and leave them both standing there—such a shame she couldn’t follow it.

‘Fine, Will,’ she responded, a little wild-eyed.

Connor endured his partner’s fussing with growing impatience and a noticeable lack of gratitude. His temper snapped when Will readjusted the passenger seat yet again.

‘I’ve plenty of room for my damned leg!’

‘He was only trying to help,’ Phoebe remonstrated, sparing her passenger a disapproving glare before she started the engine.

‘He’s an old woman!’ Connor grouched.

‘He’s a warm and caring person, and very dedicated—a perfect GP,’ Phoebe corrected in a shaky voice. Will brought out the maternal instinct in most women and Phoebe was no exception.

‘Since when,’ she asked, an antagonistic note creeping into her strained voice, ‘did you want to be a GP anyhow?’ Four years ago he’d just been made a senior registrar in one of the top neurological units in the country. If he’d stayed on that course he would undoubtedly have been a consultant now and, more importantly, he wouldn’t be here in her car, filling it with a warm, sexy Con smell.

‘Perhaps I was inspired by Will. Of course, I can’t aspire to his level of dedication but, despite my lack of warmth, some people think I’m quite good at the job,’ he drawled sarcastically.

Phoebe had never doubted it, and if she had, a day of treating his patients would have put her straight. They’d all made it quite clear that Connor wasn’t just a hard act to follow—he was an impossible act to follow!

‘You’re good at everything, Con,’ she observed with a resigned little sigh. Especially kissing...he was excellent at kissing. Don’t go there Phoebe. Don’t think about his mouth...don’t think about anything!

‘Except being a husband.’