Читать книгу Flirting with the Socialite Doc - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

ZACH LOOKED DOWN at the pretty heart-shaped face that was now blushing a fire-engine-red. Her rosebud mouth was hanging open and her toffee-brown eyes were as wide as the satellite dish on the roof of the pub outside. He put out a hand, keeping his cop face on. ‘Sergeant Zach Fletcher.’

Her slim hand quivered slightly as it slid into the cage of his. ‘H-how do you do? I’m Isabella Courtney...the new locum doctor...in case you haven’t already guessed.’

He kept hold of her hand a little longer than he needed to. He couldn’t seem to get the message through to his brain to release her. The feel of her satin-soft skin against the roughness of his made something in his groin tighten like an over-tuned guitar string. ‘Welcome to Jerringa Ridge.’

‘Thank you.’ She slipped her hand away and used it to tuck an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’m sorry. I expect you think I’m a complete fool but my friend told me she’d organised a surprise and I thought—well, I thought you were the surprise.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I’m relieved, not disappointed.’ She blushed again. ‘Quite frankly, I hate surprises. Hannah—that’s my friend—thinks it’s funny to shock me. Every year she comes up with something outrageous to make my birthday memorable.’

‘I guess this will be one you won’t forget in a hurry.’

‘Yes...’ She bit her lip with her small but perfectly aligned white teeth.

‘Is there a Dr Courtney around here?’ A young man dressed in a courier delivery uniform came towards them from the car park, his work boots crunching on the dusty gravel.

‘Um, I’m Dr Courtney.’ Isabella’s blush had spread down to her décolletage by now, taking Zach’s eyes with it. She was of slim build but she had all the right girly bits, a fact his hormones acknowledged with what felt like a stampede racing through his blood.

Cool it, mate.

Not your type.

‘I have a package for you,’ the delivery guy said. ‘I need a signature.’

Zach watched as Isabella signed her name on the electronic pad. She gave the delivery guy a tentative smile as she took the package from him. It was about the size of a shoebox and she held it against her chest like a shield.

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Zach asked.

Her cheeks bloomed an even deeper shade of pink. ‘I think I’ll wait until I’m...until later.’

There was a small silence...apart from the sound of forty or so bodies shuffling and jostling behind them to get a better view.

Zach had lived long enough in Jerringa Ridge to know it wouldn’t take much to get the local tongues wagging. Ever since his fiancée Naomi had called off their relationship when he’d moved back home to take care of his father, everyone in town had taken it upon themselves to find him a replacement. He only had to look at a woman once and the gossip would run like a scrub fire. But whether he was in the city or the country, he liked to keep his private life off the grapevine. It meant for a pretty dry social life but he had other concerns right now.

‘I’d better head back to the station. I hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday.’ He gave Isabella Courtney a brisk impersonal nod while his body thrummed with the memory of her touch. ‘Goodnight.’

* * *

Izzy watched Zach stride out of the reach of the lights of the pub to where his police vehicle was parked beneath a pendulous willow tree. Argh! If only she’d checked the car park before she’d launched into her I-don’t-want-you-here speech. How embarrassing! She had just made an utter fool of herself, bad enough in front of him but practically the whole town had been watching. Would she ever live it down? Would everyone snigger at her now whenever they saw her?

And how would she face him again?

Oh, he might have kept his face as blank as a mask but she knew he was probably laughing his head off at her behind that stony cop face of his. Would he snigger as well with his mates at how she had mistaken him for a— Oh, it was too awful to even think about.

Of course he didn’t look anything like a stripper, not that she had seen one in person or anything, only pictures of some well-built guys who worked the show circuit in Vegas. One of the girls she’d shared a flat with in London had hung their risqué calendar on the back of the bathroom door.

Idiot.

Fool.

Imbecile.

How could you possibly think he was—?

‘So you’ve met our gorgeous Zach,’ Peggy McLeod, one of the older cattleman’s wives, said at Izzy’s shoulder, with obvious amusement in her voice.

Izzy turned around and pasted a smile on her face. ‘Um, yes... He seems very...um...nice.’

‘He’s single,’ Peggy said. ‘His ex-fiancée changed her mind about moving to the bush with him. He and his dad run a big property out of town—Fletcher Downs. Good with his hands, that boy. Knows how to do just about anything. Make someone a fine husband one day.’

‘That’s...um, nice.’

‘His mum was English too, did you know?’ Peggy went on, clearly not expecting an answer for she continued without pause. ‘Olivia married Doug after a whirlwind courtship but she never could settle to life on the land. She left when Zach was about eight or nine...or was it ten? Yes, it was ten, I remember now. He was in the same class as one of my sister’s boys.’

Izzy frowned. ‘Left?’

Peggy nodded grimly. ‘Yep. Never came back, not even to visit. Zach used to fly over to England for holidays occasionally. Took him ages to settle in, though. Eventually he stopped going. I don’t think he’s seen his mother in years. Mind you, he’s kind of stuck here now since the accident.’

‘The accident?’

‘Doug Fletcher rolled his quad bike about eighteen months back. Crushed his spinal cord.’ Peggy shook her head sadly. ‘A strong, fit man like that not able to walk without a frame. It makes you want to cry, doesn’t it?’

‘That’s very sad.’

‘Zach looks after him all by himself,’ Peggy said. ‘How he does it is anyone’s guess. Doug won’t hear of having help in. Too proud and stubborn for his own good. Mind you, Zach can be a bit that way too.’

‘But surely he can’t look after his father indefinitely?’ Izzy said. ‘What about his own life?’

Peggy’s shoulders went up and down. ‘Doesn’t have one, far as I can see.’

* * *

Izzy walked back to her cottage a short time later. The party was continuing without her, which suited her just fine. Everyone was having a field day over her mistaking Zach Fletcher for a stripper. There was only so much ribbing she could take in one sitting. Just as well she was only here for a month. It would be a long time before she would be able to think about the events of tonight without blushing to the roots of her hair.

The police station was a few doors up from the clinic at the south end of the main street. She hadn’t noticed it earlier but, then, during the day it looked like any other nondescript cottage. Now that it was fully dark the police sign was illuminated and the four-wheel-drive police vehicle Zach had driven earlier was parked in the driveway beside a spindly peppercorn tree.

As she was about to go past, Zach came out of the building. He had a preoccupied look on his face and almost didn’t see her until he got to the car. He blinked and pulled up short, as if she had appeared from nowhere. He tipped his hat, his voice a low, deep burr in the silence of the still night air. ‘Dr Courtney.’

‘Sergeant Fletcher.’ If he was going to be so formal then so was she. Weren’t country people supposed to be friendly? If so, he was certainly showing no signs of it.

His tight frown put his features into shadow. ‘It’s late to be out walking.’

‘I like walking.’

‘It’s not safe to do it on your own.’

‘But it’s so quiet out here.’

‘Doesn’t make it safe.’ His expression was grimly set. ‘You’d be wise to take appropriate measures in future.’

Izzy put her chin up pertly. ‘I didn’t happen to see a taxi rank anywhere.’

‘Do you have a car?’

‘Of course.’

‘Next time use it or get a lift with one of the locals.’ He opened the passenger door of the police vehicle. ‘Hop in. I’ll run you home.’

Izzy bristled at his brusque manner. ‘I would prefer to walk, if you don’t mind. It’s only a block and I—’

His grey-blue eyes hardened. ‘I do mind. Get in. That’s an order.’

The air seemed to pulse with invisible energy as those strong eyes held hers. She held his gaze for as long as she dared, but in the end she was the first to back down. Her eyes went to his mouth instead and a frisson of awareness scooted up her spine to tingle each strand of her hair on her scalp. Something shifted in her belly...a turning, a rolling-over sensation, like something stirring after a long hibernation.

His mouth was set tightly, as tight and determined as his jaw, which was in need of a fresh shave. His eyes were fringed with dark lashes, his eyebrows the same rich dark brown as his hair. His skin was deeply tanned and it was that stark contrast with his eyes that was so heart-stopping. Smoky grey one minute, ice-blue the next, the outer rims of his irises outlined in dark blue, as if someone had traced their circumference with a fine felt-tip marker.

Eyes that had seen too much and stored the memories away somewhere deep inside for private reflection...or haunting.

‘Fine, I’ll get in,’ Izzy said with bad grace. ‘But you really need to work on your kerb-side manner.’

He gave her an unreadable look as he closed the door with a snap. She watched him stride around to the driver’s side, his long legs covering the distance in no time at all. He was two or three inches over six feet and broad shouldered and lean hipped. When he joined her in the car she felt the space shrink alarmingly. She drew herself in tightly, crossing her arms and legs to keep any of her limbs from coming into contact with his powerfully muscled ones.

The silence prickled like static electricity.

‘Peggy McLeod told me about your father’s accident,’ Izzy said as he pulled to the kerb outside her cottage half a minute later. She turned in her seat to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. That must be tough on both of you.’

Zach’s marble-like expression gave nothing away but she noticed his hands had tightened on the steering-wheel. ‘Do you make house calls?’

‘I...I guess so. Is that what Dr Sawyer did?’

‘Once a week.’

‘Then I’ll do it too. When would you like me to come?’

Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders but he didn’t turn to look at her. ‘I’ll ring Margie and make an appointment.’

‘Fine.’

Another silence.

‘Look, about that little mix-up back at the pub—’ she began.

‘Forget it,’ he cut her off. ‘I’ll wait until you get inside. Lock the door, won’t you?’

Izzy frowned. ‘You know you’re really spooking me with this over-vigilance. Don’t you know everyone in a town this size by name?’

‘We have drive-throughs who cause trouble from time to time. It’s best not to take unnecessary risks.’

‘Not everyone is a big bad criminal, Sergeant Fletcher.’

He reached past her to open her door. Izzy sucked in a sharp breath as the iron bar of his arm brushed against her breasts, setting every nerve off like a string of fireworks beneath her skin.

For an infinitesimal moment her gaze meshed with his.

He had tiny blue flecks in that unreadable sea of grey and his pupils were inky-black. He smelt of lemons with a hint of lime and lemongrass and something else...something distinctly, arrantly, unapologetically male.

A sensation like the unfurling petals of a flower brushed lightly over the floor of her belly.

Time froze.

The air tightened. Pulsed. Vibrated.

‘Sorry.’ He pulled back and fixed his stare forward again, his hands gripping the steering-wheel so tightly his tanned knuckles were bone white.

‘No problem.’ Izzy’s voice came out a little rusty. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

He didn’t drive off until she had closed the door of the cottage. She leant back against the door and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, listening as his car growled away into the night.

* * *

‘So what did your friend actually send you for your birthday?’ Margie Green asked as soon as Izzy arrived at the clinic the next morning.

‘I haven’t opened it yet.’ Because I stupidly left it in Sergeant Fletcher’s car last night.

Margie’s eyes were twinkling. ‘What on earth made you think our Zach was a male stripper?’

Izzy cringed all over again. Was every person in town going to do this to her? Remind her of what a silly little idiot she had been? If so, four weeks couldn’t go fast enough. ‘Because it’s exactly the sort of thing my friend Hannah would do. As soon as I saw him standing there I went into panic mode. I didn’t stop to think that he could be a real cop. I didn’t even know if Jerringa Ridge had a cop. I didn’t have time to do much research on the post because the agency asked me to step in for someone at the last minute.’

‘We have two cops...or one and a half really,’ Margie said. ‘We used to have four but with all the government cutbacks that’s no longer the case. Rob Heywood is close to retirement so Zach does the bulk of the work. He’s a hard worker is our Zach. You won’t find a nicer man out in these parts.’

‘I’m not here to find a man.’ Why did every woman over fifty—including her own mother—seem to think younger women had no other goal than to get married? ‘I’m here to work.’

Margie cocked her head at a thoughtful angle. ‘You’re here for four weeks. These days that’s a long time for a young healthy woman like you to be without a bit of male company.’

Izzy’s left thumb automatically went to her empty ring finger. It was a habit she was finding hard to break. It wasn’t that she regretted her decision to end things with Richard. It was just strange to feel so...so unattached. She hadn’t looked at another man in years. But now she couldn’t get Zach Fletcher’s eyes or his inadvertent touch out of her head...or her body. Even now she could remember the feel of that slight brush of his arm across her breasts—the electric, tingly feel of hard male against soft female...

She gave herself a mental shake as she picked up a patient’s file and leafed through it. ‘I’m not interested in a relationship. There’d be no point. I’m on a working holiday. I won’t be in one place longer than a month.’

‘Zach hasn’t dated anyone since he broke up with his ex,’ Margie said, as if Izzy hadn’t just described her plans for the next six months. ‘It’d be good for him to move on. He was pretty cut up about Naomi not wanting to come with him to the bush. Not that he’s said anything, of course. He’s not one for having his heart flapping about on his sleeve. He comes across as a bit arrogant at times but underneath all that he’s a big softie. Mind you, you might have your work cut out for you, being an English girl and all.’

Izzy lowered the notes and frowned. ‘Because his mother was English?’

‘Not only English but an aristocrat.’ Margie gave a little sniff that spoke volumes. ‘One of them blue-blooded types. Her father was a baron or a lord of the realm or some such thing. Olivia Hardwick was as posh as anything. Used to having servants dancing around her all her life. No wonder she had so much trouble adjusting to life out here. Love wasn’t enough in the end.’

Izzy thought of the veritable army of servants back at Courtney Manor. They were almost part of the furniture, although she tried never to take any of them for granted. But now was probably not a good time to mention her background with its centuries-old pedigree.

Margie sighed as sat back in her chair. ‘It broke Doug’s heart when she left. He hasn’t looked at another woman since...more’s the pity. He and I used to hang out a bit in the old days. Just as friends.’

‘But you would have liked something more?’ Izzy asked.

Margie gave her a wistful smile. ‘We can’t always have what we want, can we?’

Izzy glanced at the receptionist’s left hand. ‘You never married?’

‘Divorced. A long time ago. Thirty years this May. I shouldn’t have married Jeff but I was lonely at the time.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Margie shrugged.

‘Did you have children?’

‘A boy and a girl. They both live in Sydney. And I have three grandchildren who are the joy of my life. I’m hoping to get down to see them at Easter.’

Izzy wondered if Margie’s marriage had come about because of Doug Fletcher’s involvement with Olivia. How heartbreaking it must have been for her to watch him fall madly in love with someone else, and how sad for Doug to have the love of his life walk out on him and their young son.

Relationships were tricky. She knew that from her own parents, who had a functional marriage but not a particularly happy or fulfilling one. That was one of the reasons she had decided to end things with Richard. She hadn’t wanted to end up trapped in an empty marriage that grumbled on just for the sake of appearances.

‘Sergeant Fletcher asked me to make a house call on his father,’ Izzy said. ‘Has he rung to make an appointment yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Margie said. ‘He might drop in on his way to the station. Ah, here he is now. Morning, Zach. We were just talking about you.’

Izzy turned to see Zach Fletcher duck his head slightly to come through the door. Her stomach did a little freefall as his eyes met hers. He looked incredibly commanding in his uniform; tall and composed with an air of untouchable reserve. How on earth she had mistaken him for anything other than a cop made her cheeks fire up all over again. She ran her tongue over her lips before she gave him a polite but distant smile. ‘Good morning, Sergeant Fletcher.’

He dipped his head ever so slightly, his eyes running over her in a lazy, unreadable sweep that set her pulse rate tripping. ‘Dr Courtney.’

Izzy’s smile started to crack around the edges. Did he have to look at her so unwaveringly, as if he knew how much he unsettled her? Was he laughing at her behind that inscrutable cop mask? ‘What can I do for you? Would you like to make an appointment for me to come out and see your father today? I could probably work something in for later this afternoon. I’m pretty solidly booked but—’

He handed her the package the delivery guy had delivered the night before, his eyes locking on hers in a way that made the base of her spine shiver and fizz. ‘You left this in my car last night.’

Izzy could practically hear Margie’s eyes popping out of her head behind the reception counter. ‘Oh...right, thanks.’ She took the package from him and held it against her chest, where her heart was doing double time.

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Margie said.

‘Um...not right now.’

Was that a hint of mockery glinting in Zach Fletcher’s eyes? ‘What time would suit you?’ he asked.

‘I...I think I’d rather do it when I get home.’

The glint in his eyes was unmistakable this time, so too was the slight curve at one side of his mouth. His version of a smile? It made her hungry to see a real one. Was he capable of stretching that grim mouth that far? ‘I meant what time would suit you to see my father.’

Izzy’s blush deepened. What was it about this man that made her feel about twelve years old? Well, maybe not twelve years old. Right now she was feeling incredibly adult. X-rated adult. Every particle of her flesh was shockingly aware of him. Her skin was tight, her senses alert, her pulse rate rising, her heart fluttering like a butterfly trapped in the narrow neck of a bottle. ‘Oh...’ She swung back to Margie. ‘What time am I free?’

‘Your last patient is at four forty-five. It’s a twenty-minute drive out to Fletcher Downs so shall we say five-thirty, give or take a few minutes?’ Margie said.

‘I’ll make sure I’m there to let you in,’ Zach said. ‘My father can be a bit grouchy meeting people for the first time. Don’t let him get to you.’

Izzy raised her chin the tiniest fraction. ‘I’m used to handling difficult people.’

His eyes measured hers for a pulsing moment. ‘Margie will give you a map. If you pass Blake’s waterhole, you’ve gone too far.’

‘I’m sure I’ll find it without any trouble,’ Izzy said. ‘I have satellite navigation in my car.’

He gave a brisk nod that encompassed the receptionist as well as Izzy and left the clinic.

‘Are you going to tell me how you ended up in his car last night or am I going to have to guess?’ Margie asked.

Izzy let out a breath as she turned back around. ‘He gave me a lift home.’

Margie’s eyes widened with intrigue. ‘From the pub? It’s like half a block by city standards.’

‘Yes, well, apparently Sergeant Fletcher thinks it’s terribly unsafe to walk home at night without an escort. Typical cop, they think everyone’s a potential criminal. They never see the good in people, only the bad. They have power issues too. You can pick it up a mile off. I’d bet my bottom dollar Zach Fletcher is a total control freak. And a blind man could see he has a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder.’

Margie smiled a knowing smile. ‘You like him.’

‘What on earth gives you that idea?’ Izzy gave a scornful little laugh but even to her ears it sounded tinny. ‘He’s not my type.’

And I bet I’m not his either.