Читать книгу The Doctor's Rebel Knight - Melanie Milburne, Melanie Milburne - Страница 8

‘WHAT on earth took you so long?’ Caro asked as soon as Fran came in. The rain was still pelting down outside. ‘I was worried about you. Did you get caught up in the storm? Apparently there are powerlines down everywhere. I just heard it on the radio. Rufus is hiding under my bed.’

‘Yes, it’s certainly a bit wild out there,’ Fran said as she slipped off her soaked sandals.

Caro tilted her head. ‘Are you OK? You look a little flushed.’

‘I’m fine,’ Fran said, grimacing as she pulled her wet dress away from her chest. ‘I just had a little run-in with one of the locals.’

Caro’s finely arched brows disappeared under her fringe. ‘Which one?’ she asked.

‘One of the cops,’ Fran said, scowling as her sister handed her a towel. ‘What happened to that nice grandfatherly sergeant that used to be here before?’

‘Jim Robbins?’ Caro said. ‘He retired a few months back and moved to Lakes Entrance with his wife so they could be closer to their grandkids. There are a couple of new cops now, including a rather gorgeous replacement for Jim… Uh-oh…’ Caro grimaced at her sister’s expression. ‘So what happened? Did he book you for speeding or something?’

Fran rolled her eyes. ‘Now, that’s irony for you,’ she said. ‘He was the one speeding and he failed to give way but tried to make it look like my fault. He’s so arrogant.’ Fran gave a toss of her head. ‘Sergeant Jacob Hawke has superior attitude written all over him.’

‘Sergeant Jacob Hawke has got hot, single, currently available male written all over him,’ Caro said with a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Maybe you should kiss and make up, considering the man-drought and all.’

Fran gave her a withering look. ‘I may be single and staring down the barrel of thirty, but I am not desperate.’

‘You didn’t find him attractive?’

‘I found him annoying.’

‘But still attractive, right?’

Fran pursed her lips for a beat or two. ‘He’s got unusually blue eyes, I’ll give him that.’

‘What about his body?’ Caro asked. ‘He works out big time. I’ve heard he’s got his own gym set up at his house.’

‘I didn’t really notice his body,’ Fran lied. ‘In any case, he was dressed from head to foot in black leather.’

Caro grasped at her chest in a theatrical manner. ‘Be still, my heart.’

Fran couldn’t help laughing. ‘Don’t be such a goose. I’m going to have a shower. Is Nick back yet?’

‘No, he’s got a parents’ and friends’ meeting so he said he’d stay at school and do some marking until then. We can have a girls’ night. Be a honey and paint my toenails for me? I can’t reach them any more.’

Fran handed her sister the damp towel. ‘It’s a date.’

Fran was taking Rufus for a walk along the beach ten days later when she saw a male figure jogging in the distance. Her first response was to freeze. She felt the knocking of her heart that reminded her she was alone on a beach with an unidentified man coming towards her. Rufus, as if sensing her alarm, looked up at her with a doggy grin and barked before loping off, his plumy tail wagging enthusiastically as he raced towards the jogger.

‘Rufus!’ she called, trying to keep up. ‘Here, boy! Rufus!’

The dog loped on regardless and Fran watched as the runner stopped to bend down to give the dog a ruffle of his ears. The man was dressed in running shorts and trainers but his tanned chest was bare, looking as magnificently male as it was possible to look outside a photo shoot, Fran thought.

She breathed out a sigh of relief as she saw the man’s response to the dog. Some people were not ‘dog people’ and didn’t take too kindly to an out-of-control mutt like Rufus bombarding them with sloppy kisses and wet tail slaps. Clearly this man adored canine company and obviously knew Rufus personally, which made her feel better about being alone. She watched as he picked up a bit of driftwood and threw it into the sea. Rufus charged off after it and the man continued jogging up the beach.

As he came closer Fran felt her face colour up and it had absolutely nothing to do with the warmth of the sun.

‘Dr Nin,’ Sergeant Hawke said as he changed gait to a long easy stride, with Rufus at his side, his doggy tongue lolling out in exhaustion.

When he came to a stop in front of her Fran felt his gaze run over her assessingly, taking in her sarong-clad figure. She wished she had put on something a little less revealing but she hadn’t seen a soul on the beach for the past week. In fact, over the last few days she had she had just started to feel she could relax her guard a little bit, not having to worry about people and how they viewed her. She hated people staring at the scar on her leg. Her sarong was fairly sheer but thankfully not that sheer.

‘Sergeant Hawke,’ she said, unable to kept the chill from her tone even though her body felt blisteringly hot.

‘Nice day for a walk,’ he said, reaching down to toss the stick for Rufus again.

Fran couldn’t help noticing the way his biceps bulged as he threw the stick. He was in perfect physical condition, muscular and toned with not a gram of non-functional flesh—as Caro would call it—on his frame. His skin was a deep olive, covered now with a glistening layer of perspiration from hard physical exercise. His shoulders were broad, his waist and hips lean, so lean she could see every contour of his external oblique muscle above his hips. Stop staring at his groin, she chided herself, and quickly brought her eyes up to his.

She suddenly realised it was her turn to say something. ‘Um…yes…Rufus likes a lot of exercise.’

Jacob Hawke gave her his first smile. Well, strictly speaking, it was really more of a half-smile but Fran still found herself staring at him as if he had zapped her with a stun gun. Her breath hitched in her throat, her stomach gave a little flip turn and her legs—even her good one—threatened to fold beneath her.

Fran hadn’t realised she had even stumbled until his hand shot out and steadied her. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, frowning at her in concern.

She looked down at his long tanned fingers almost over-lapping on her forearm and gave a little shiver. Her skin was a light golden honey colour from her days on the beach but nowhere near the darkness of his. Her arm was smooth and hairless while his was liberally covered with springy masculine hair, right down his arms to the backs of his hands and along each of his long fingers.

‘Dr Nin?’

Fran brought her eyes back to his. ‘Sorry…’ She swept her tongue out over her lips. ‘I’m still not all that steady on sand. It’s supposed to be good physio for me…you know, walking with bare feet.’

Jacob dropped his hand from her arm, his fingers still tingling slightly even when he took the stick Rufus was poking against his thigh and threw it towards the rolling waves. ‘How’d it happen?’ he asked, turning back to look at her.

Something moved in her eyes, like a stagehand quickly re-arranging something on the set before the audience could notice. ‘Skiing,’ she said, looking away into the distance. ‘In New Zealand.’

Jacob let a little silence pass.

‘So, how long are you staying in town?’ he asked.

‘About three months or so,’ she answered, trying to capture Rufus’s collar as he came back with the stick. ‘We should let you get on with your run.’

‘I’m done,’ Jacob said. ‘I was going to head into the surf to cool off. Have you been in the water yet?’

‘No, not yet,’ she said, reaching for the dog again.

Rufus darted out of her reach and, barking madly, raced off after a seagull.

‘I’ll get him,’ Jacob said and, putting two fingers to his mouth, gave a whistle that would have stopped a train. Rufus skidded to a halt and turned and ran back, his ears flopping and his tail wagging.

‘I’ll hold him while you clip on his lead,’ Jacob offered.

Fran couldn’t believe how uncooperative her fingers were in performing such a simple task but somehow Jacob Hawke’s fingers brushing against hers as he held Rufus in place sent jolts of electricity up and down her spine. Finally the dog was back on the lead and she straightened. ‘Thank you,’ she said, looping the lead twice around her wrist for insurance. ‘Enjoy your swim.’

She began to walk back the way she had come but Rufus proved reluctant to leave. He kept looking back at the tall figure behind, who when Fran took a covert glance was now carving his way through the surf in long easy strokes. His running shoes and socks were on the beach, along with his shorts. Fran didn’t want to think too much about what he was swimming in. Male underwear was very similar to male swimwear but she didn’t want to be around to make up her mind which he was wearing, if anything. She gave Rufus’s lead another firm tug and headed up the path to Caro’s house.

‘Fran, oh, thank God you’re back,’ Caro said as soon as she came in the door. ‘I think I need to go to hospital. I’m bleeding.’

Fran pushed aside her feelings of panic and did her best to get into doctor mode but she felt helplessly inadequate, more so because it was her sister and she couldn’t summon up even a millimetre of clinical distance. ‘How much blood?’ she asked. ‘Just a show or a steady stream?’

‘A show at first and then I got a few cramps and now it’s getting heavier,’ Caro said, swallowing in anguish. ‘I’ve called Nick. He’s on his way.’ There was the sound of a car pulling into the drive. ‘Oh, thank God, that’s him now.’

Fran called an ambulance first and then, after making her sister comfortable and doing her best to reassure her brother-in-law, she quickly packed a bag for Caro to take with her to hospital.

‘I won’t lose the babies, will I?’ Caro asked as she was loaded in the back of the ambulance a short time later, her face still white with distress.

‘No, of course not, Caro—the placenta may have lifted a little, that’s all. Just keep calm and relaxed and wait for a full obstetric assessment in hospital. The doctors will do everything possible to keep you all safe,’ Fran said. ‘Don’t worry about things here. I’ll look after Rufus and I’ll call Mum and Dad once I know how things are going with you.’

She turned to Nick, whose face looked the colour of ash.

‘Try not to panic, Nick. An early delivery is very common with twins. Caro will be much safer being monitored in hospital at this stage.’ Especially as I am practically useless at managing a sore throat, let alone something like this, Fran thought in distress.

‘Thanks, Fran,’ Nick said, his throat sounding tight. ‘We’ll call you once we know what the go is.’

It was only after the ambulance had gone that Fran found it hard to keep from spiralling into a full-blown panic attack. She tried to keep busy, but the house seemed so empty without her sister’s cheerful voice sounding out from whichever room she happened to be in.

Rufus looked downcast, his ears down, a low whining sound coming from his throat as he followed Fran about forlornly.

The telephone rang three hours later with Nick informing her he was the proud father of twin boys. Although in the neonatal unit, they were doing very well, all things considered, but would be in hospital for some weeks. There was some suggestion one of the babies might have to be transferred to one of the larger teaching hospitals in Sydney for further monitoring. Nick had decided he would stay in Wollongong in a serviced apartment and had already contacted the education department about finding a replacement teacher. He wanted to be with Caro and the boys until they could come home as a family.

‘How is Caro?’ Fran asked, trying not to cry.

‘She’s great,’ Nick said. ‘She wants to speak to you. I’ll hand her over.’

‘Fran, you won’t believe how tiny they are,’ Caro gushed with maternal pride. ‘I can’t wait until you see them. Nick’s going to send you some photos via his phone. We haven’t decided on names yet. We can’t quite make up our minds—silly, isn’t it? We’ve been arguing about it for the last ten minutes. We’ve called Mum and Dad, they’re in Italy right now, Florence, I think, or maybe it was Venice. Oh, Frannie, I’m so happy.’

‘I’m happy for you,’ Fran said, trying to ignore the tiny pang of envy that trickled through her. Caro was only two years older than her and here she was happily married with two gorgeous babies while she had nothing but a career she was too frightened to return to and no man in her life to love her the way she longed to be loved. She chided herself for being so bitter. Stuff happened in life, and it wasn’t always the white picket fence and roses spilling over stuff. It was hard stuff, challenging stuff, stuff that changed everything in the rapid rise and fall of an eyelid.

When the photos of the babies came through a few minutes later, Fran allowed herself a few self-indulgent tears. She had so rarely given in to tears. Her training had toughened her up, perhaps too much, or so her mother thought, and her gruff show-no-emotion father, too, when it came to that. But now alone in a big seaside house with just a ragamuffin dog for company, Fran sobbed for her lost life, for the carefree girl she had once been and might never be again.

She didn’t hear the doorbell at first, but then Rufus began to bark and scratch at the door. The doorbell was ringing continuously, as if someone was repeatedly stabbing at the button. Then someone was thumping on the door. Annoyed at the intrusion, Fran blew her nose, stuffed the tissue into her bra, and cautiously opened the heavy front door.

One of Caro and Nick’s neighbours from two doors away practically fell into the hallway, his face marble white, his body shaking. ‘Dr Nin? Caro told me you’re a doctor. Quickly—come on, you’ve got to save her. My daughter…‘ He started to cry, great heaving sobs, each one sounding as if it was shredding his chest. ‘My d-daughter, Ella, my baby fell into the pool. She’s not breathing.’

Fran pushed Rufus back indoors, stepped onto the verandah and shut the door. ‘Who is with your daughter now?’ she asked, her heart thudding as adrenalin kicked in.

‘My wife,’ he said, choking back another sob. ‘She’s done first aid but nothing’s working. You’ve got to help us. Please, quickly. Come on.’

‘Have you called an ambulance?’ she asked as she hurried after the distressed man into the neighbouring property, her stomach knotting with dread at what she might find.

‘Yes, yes, yes, but they won’t get here till it’s too late. They’re way out of town, on some other call. Jane thought of you. You’ve got to help us, please, please, come on!’

‘It’s all right…Joe, isn’t it?’ Fran said, recalling his name. Caro had said what a lovely family the Pelleris were, new to the town but fitting in well with everyone. Joe was a mechanic at the local service station, Jane a stay-at-home mum with three children—a toddler and two boys.

It was only a hundred metres to the Pelleris’ house but Fran felt her heart rate escalating with sickening speed. A brain without oxygen couldn’t survive for long. Children might last a bit longer, but even if revived, it might only be the heart and lungs that functioned. The brain could be damaged or even worse—the child might be dead. The child some parents brought into the hospital was not always the child they took home.

Every second was vital.

Every second counted.

Every second hammered at Fran’s chest as she pushed through the garden gate towards the house.

Jane Pelleri was trying her best to do CPR on the baby in the family room just off the pool area, with the two little boys distressed and crying in the background.

‘Jane, I’ll take over now,’ Fran said in a calm, doctor-in-control tone, even though her stomach was roiling with doubts and fears that she wouldn’t be up to the task. This was no well-equipped A and E department. This was a family’s home with baby and toddler photographs on the walls, not lifesaving resuscitation gear. Fear gripped at Fran’s heart with cruel claws. What if she couldn’t do this? What if she failed? Her stomach churned with nausea, her skin broke out in a sheen of perspiration and her hands shook almost uncontrollably as she tried to assess the situation.

The child was on the very springy sofa, which had made the mother’s efforts at cardiac compression largely ineffective. Fran placed the infant, who looked about eighteen months old, onto her back on the carpeted floor, and tilted her head slightly back to open the airway. There seemed to be the remains of a biscuit in the child’s mouth, which Fran swept out with her finger. The child was clearly not breathing and appeared cyanosed. Supporting Ella’s head, Fran covered the nose and mouth with her mouth and gave five puffs, then felt for a pulse over the inner arm, then the neck.

Either there was none, or her lack of recent clinical experience was letting her down and she just wasn’t sensitive enough to feel it, she thought as another pang of doubt stung her. She had to assume the child’s heart had stopped. Using two fingers, Fran gently compressed the child’s chest over the lower sternum, twenty rapid compressions for each couple of breaths.

Was that the right ratio? she thought in panic. It was higher in adults, lower in children and lower in infants. Oh, God, what was the ratio? Had her skills and training been punched out of her along with her confidence in A and E that day? Her brain became foggy with fear, dread and doubts. She couldn’t do this. She was failing. She was not going to be able to save this child. How would she face the parents? What about those two little boys? Oh, God, even the photos on the walls seemed to be staring down at her in accusation. You are a failure. You are no good at this. Look at what you have done.

Fran vaguely registered a siren sounding and it seemed mere seconds before Jacob Hawke was kneeling beside her, talking to her, but it was as if it was in a vacuum. She couldn’t hear him; she saw his lips moving but it was as if the sound had been muffled by her fear.

‘For God’s sake, Dr Nin,’ Jacob bit out roughly, finally shaking her out of her stasis. ‘Help me here. Keep her steady while I do the mouth-to-mouth.’

Fran blinked herself into action and held the child in position, watching in numb silence as Jacob determinedly worked at the breaths and compressions for what seemed like hours, made worse by the howling boys and now hysterical mother. Had the child’s colour improved, or was it Fran’s imagination?

Unexpectedly, the infant coughed, then seemed to convulse. She vomited up some water, coughed again, and then started wailing, the colour of her face turning from lavender to cherry red.

In the distance another wailing sound could be heard, this one the reassuring whine of the ambulance approaching at speed.

‘Mummy-y!’ the toddler croaked over another cough.

‘Keep her on her side,’ Jacob directed the child’s mother. ‘She’ll be fine but she needs to go to hospital for a proper check of her airways and lungs.’

Fran sat back on her heels, her breathing hurting her chest as cautious relief flooded through her. Ella was alive. Ella was breathing. Ella was alive…

Jacob met her eyes, something in his ice-cold gaze ripping through her like shards of ice. ‘Everything all right, Dr Nin?’ he asked in a tone as arctic as his eyes.

‘F-fine,’ she said, using a nearby chair to pull herself to her feet. ‘I…I lost concentration for a moment…that was all.’

‘Yeah, well, it only takes a moment and it’s too late,’ he muttered in an undertone, well out of hearing of the distressed family.

Fran wanted to be angry at him but her nerves were still shredded. She felt as if her whole body was hanging in pieces, none of them connected to each other. She could barely get her legs to move. Her head was spinning so much she thought she might be sick, but somehow she pulled herself together for the family’s sake.

‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Jane was still sobbing as she cradled her daughter. ‘I don’t know how she got out to the pool. The gate was closed, I’m sure it was. I’m always so careful.’

‘It’s hard to watch kids all the time,’ Fran said, glancing at the two boys who were still looking shocked, huddled together in the corner of the room.

Once the ambulance officers arrived Fran filled them in with what had happened. The officers were not trained paramedics, just volunteers, but the older man called Jack seemed very competent and experienced as he handled the little patient.

Within a few minutes, both mother and child were in the back of the ambulance, heading for Wollongong Hospital for proper assessment and observation of Ella.

Another police car pulled into the driveway almost as soon as the ambulance had pulled out, and Joe gave Fran a worried look. ‘What are more cops doing here?’ he asked, placing an arm around each of his boys.

‘It’s pretty standard procedure in cases like this,’ Fran said, although personally she questioned the timing of it. The traumatised father and his young sons were obviously desperate to get in the car and follow the ambulance to hospital, but she understood from other cases she had dealt with the importance of ruling out any suspicious circumstances.

Jacob went over to the police vehicle and spoke to the officer on duty. The car backed out of the driveway a few moments later and Jacob came back up the path to where Joe and his boys were waiting with Fran.

Jacob exchanged a brief unreadable glance with Fran before he reached for Joe’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Sergeant Jacob Hawke.’ He smiled down at the boys. ‘Hi, guys.’ He bent down to their level. ‘What are your names?’

‘I—I’m Joey and he’s Romeo,’ the older of the boys said.

‘Those are great names—Italian, right?’ Jacob asked, glancing at the father for verification.

Joe nodded, his throat rising and falling over a tight swallow. ‘Sergeant, I think it would be best if we talk in private. I don’t want the boys to be upset any further.’

Fran stepped forward. ‘I’d be happy to fix the boys a juice or something,’ she said, and turned to them.

‘How about it, Romeo and Joey? Can you show me where Mummy keeps everything?’

The little boys led the way to the kitchen where Fran poured them both orange juice and gave them two chocolate-chip cookies apiece. After a while their dark brown eyes began to lose their haunted, hollow look and they even started to chat about their favourite toys and games.

After half an hour the boys’ father came in, followed by Jacob. ‘Thank you again, Dr Nin, and you too, Sergeant,’ Joe said. ‘I know Jane already thanked you both but you really did save our little girl today. If there’s anything, and I mean anything, we can ever do for you, just let me know. It goes without saying you won’t be charged a cent if you need your car serviced at my workshop, Dr Nin. Just book it in any time.’

‘Thank you, Joe,’ Fran said, feeling every type of fraud. She hadn’t saved Ella, that had been Jacob, and both of them knew it. The family had been too upset to notice and had just assumed as she was a doctor that she was responsible for the miracle of bringing their precious daughter back to them. ‘That’s very kind of you but I was only doing my…er…‘ she flushed and hated herself for it ‘…what I’ve been trained to do.’

‘We should let you get on your way to the hospital to be with your wife and daughter,’ Jacob said to Joe, and then, turning to face Fran, asked, ‘Would you like a lift back to your sister’s house?’

Fran considered refusing but her leg was still throbbing from her hundred-metre dash earlier, and she was also concerned about how long Rufus had been locked in the laundry back at the house. ‘Thank you,’ she said, brushing her hair back with her hand. ‘That would be great.’

After saying farewell to the Pelleri boys and their father, Jacob led the way out to the police vehicle, opening the passenger door for her and standing patiently as she eased into the seat.

He waited until they were on their way before he spoke. ‘When was the last time you performed resuscitation on a child?’

Fran stiffened in her seat. ‘Look, it was tough in there, OK? The family was hysterical and there was no resus gear at hand. I’m not used to working at the coalface like that. I’ve been in a high-tech city teaching hospital all my working life.’

Her words hung in the ensuing silence, each one of them making her feel even more disgusted with her incompetence under pressure. She of all people should have been able to handle an emergency, no matter what equipment was at hand. She could just imagine what Jacob was thinking: she was a stuck-up city slicker who couldn’t stop a nosebleed without a trauma team on hand for back-up. He was very probably right, Fran thought with another wave of disgust at herself.

‘It could so easily have gone the other way but it didn’t,’ Jacob said after a moment. ‘Small communities like this don’t cope well with tragedy. It affects everyone.’

Fran bit her lip as those terrified little boys’ faces drifted into her consciousness. ‘Yes…I know…’

Jacob glanced across at her. ‘It seems one of the boys left the gate unlocked. The mother turned her back for a minute, the father was occupied elsewhere and suddenly the family was a minute or two from tragedy.’

Fran looked at him, her forehead creasing. ‘That’s not going to be made public, is it? About one of the boys leaving the gate unlocked?’

He drew in a breath as he turned into the Atkinses’ driveway. ‘As you are probably aware, whenever there is a case of drowning or near-drowning the police are required to attend and submit a media report in the interests of public education to make the community safer for children. So many parents are unaware of the dangers of leaving children unsupervised or the laws regarding adequate fencing around pools.’

Fran felt her body tensing. ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said. ‘Joey is only six years old, Romeo only four. It would be morally reprehensible to name and shame either one of them for something that was just an unfortunate accident.’

He killed the engine and turned to look at her. ‘I am confident the incident was not a result of parental neglect or insufficient supervision. When Joe and I inspected the catch on the gate we found it to be faulty. It sometimes locks, it sometimes doesn’t. If it is anyone’s fault, it is the manufacturer’s. The Pelleris have only been in Pelican Bay a few months. The pool and the fence surrounding it were only installed a couple of weeks ago.’

Fran felt her shoulders come down in relief. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off but those little boys…well, it would destroy their childhood to be blamed for something like that.’

‘Speaking of little boys,’ he said as he unclipped his seat belt, ‘how is your sister? I heard she was rushed to hospital earlier today and gave birth to twins.’

‘She’s doing really well, although the babies have to stay in the neonatal unit for a while,’ Fran said. ‘I’m not sure what their names are yet. That was still under discussion last time I spoke to her.’

‘That’s great news,’ he said. ‘They’ll make wonderful parents. They seem a nice couple.’

‘They are,’ she said. ‘Nick is a lovely man. My sister is very happy.’

There was a small silence.

‘So…how about you?’ he asked.

Fran felt her fingers tighten in her lap. ‘What about me?’

His light blue gaze bored into hers. ‘Are you currently involved with someone? A boyfriend, fiancé, husband?’

She looked at him, conscious of her face heating under his scrutiny. ‘I’m not sure why you’re asking me such personal questions. Tell me something, Sergeant, does every newcomer to town suffer the same interrogation from you?’

His lips twitched but it still couldn’t be called a smile. ‘Not the dating sort, huh?’

She pulled her mouth tight. ‘Actually, I am not the sort of person to talk about personal details with complete strangers,’ she clipped back.

She shoved open the passenger door, throwing him an icy look over one shoulder. ‘Thank you for the lift.’

His mouth took on that mocking slant that annoyed her so much. ‘I take it someone like me broke your heart.’

‘Actually, he was nothing like you,’ Fran said. ‘And he didn’t break my heart. He was—’ She stopped, suddenly realising how cleverly he had manipulated her into revealing far more than she wanted to reveal.

‘He was…?’ he prompted with a hook of one brow.

She clamped her lips together and swung her legs out of the car, but the weakness in her left leg made her stumble.

Jacob tried to reach her from inside the car but she pitched forward and landed heavily on the gravel driveway. He bit back a stiff curse and leapt out to go to her aid.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, helping her to her feet.

She tried to brush him off, but he could see the pain like a misty shadow in her grey-blue eyes, so he kept his hold gentle but firm as she regained her balance.

He ran his gaze over her. ‘Your knees are bleeding,’ he said. ‘Let me help you inside to clean them up.’

‘I’m all right,’ she said, but it was clear she wasn’t. She looked shaken and pale and her bottom lip was trembling slightly, as if she was fighting tears. It had been tough at the Pelleris’, he was the first to admit that, but she was a qualified medic, for pity’s sake. If she was going to last any time in the bush she would have to toughen up, and fast.

Jacob put an arm around her shoulders and helped her to the front door, his body springing to awareness of her petite feminine frame tucked into the strength of his. Her long blonde hair tickled the bare skin on his arm, and he could smell its alluring summer fragrance of frangipani and coconut.

After his break-up with Melissa he had been determined not to do the rebound thing, but weeks and then months had gone by and he had started to forget how nice it felt to hold someone close. However, Dr Frances Nin was just the sort of woman he usually avoided. Touchy, argumentative and prickly, not exactly the qualities he was looking for in a life partner. But he had to admit she packed quite a visual punch.

Rufus barked as they came in but Jacob issued him with a stern command to sit in case he bumped against Fran. ‘Which way to the first-aid kit?’ he asked.

‘Look, Sergeant Hawke,’ she began, ‘this is totally unnecessary. It’s just a scratch.’

‘Jacob.’

She blinked at him. ‘Sorry?’

‘You can call me Jacob,’ he said with a crooked tilt of his lips. ‘Pelican Bay isn’t big on formality, or hasn’t anyone told you that?’

‘Jacob…’ She slipped out of his hold, her cheeks the colour of a soft pink rose. ‘Thanks for the lift but really I would much rather be alone right now.’

Jacob made an L with his fingers and rested it against his chin and mouth as he looked down at her musingly.

‘He really did a good job on you, didn’t he?’

Her chin came up and a storm brewed in her grey-blue eyes. ‘I have already told you I am not interested in discussing my private life,’ she said.

‘What was his name?’

Her hands fisted by her sides, flashes of anger in her gaze as it clashed with his. ‘I realise it is a part of your job to ask questions but to put it bluntly, Sergeant Hawke, I have no intention of answering them.’

‘Where’s the first-aid kit?’ he asked again.

She crossed her arms and angled her head towards the door. ‘I have two words for you, Sergeant. Leave. Now.’

Jacob moved past her to where he supposed the nearest bathroom was, a part of him enjoying the verbal tussle with her. He liked the way her eyes lost their soulless look when she battled head to head with him. He suspected behind that fragile the-world-is-against-me demeanour was a spirited young woman who just needed some time to sort herself out.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked as she limped after him into the downstairs bathroom.

He opened a couple of drawers below the basin before he found what he was looking for. ‘Sit on the toilet seat while I clean those scratches,’ he said.

She stood mulishly, still glaring at him with those thundercloud eyes. ‘I am quite capable of seeing to my own scratches, Sergeant Hawke. I am a doctor, remember?’

He dabbed a cotton-wool ball with antiseptic. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that,’ he said. ‘When word gets around about your heroic success in saving Ella Pelleri, just about every resident in Pelican Bay is going to be knocking on your door for a consultation.’

‘We both know it wasn’t me that saved her,’ she said.

His eyes locked on hers before he returned to assembling the first-aid items on the bench. ‘I figure it’s like loosening the lid on a jar for someone.’

‘What?’

He looked sideways to see her frowning at him in confusion. ‘When I was a little kid…’ He paused for a second before continuing, ‘My mother had trouble unscrewing jars, or so she said. I would try my hardest to unscrew it but in the end I would hand it back to her, but each and every time she would say I had loosened it for her. The way I see it, you had the situation more or less in control, apart from momentary panic, which could have happened to anyone given the circumstances. I just loosened the lid on it for you.’

Her mouth pulled even tighter but he saw a flicker of consternation pass through her eyes. ‘Even so, I’m not obliged to see anyone while I am here in town,’ she said. ‘I haven’t even got a prescription pad with me.’

He placed a hand on her shoulder and with gentle pressure forced her to sit on the closed toilet seat. ‘I am sure there are prescription pads at the clinic as well as anything else needed to run a small one-doctor practice.’

Fran felt her breathing go out of whack as he hunkered down in front of her. He was wearing his gunbelt complete with handcuffs and mobile phone and radio, adding to his dangerous, don’t-mess-with-me air. Her shoulder was still tingling from the pressure of his large warm hand, the nerves beneath her skin tap-dancing in delight. She couldn’t help staring at his hands. His fingers were twice the thickness of hers, long and tanned with neatly clipped square nails. The knuckles of his right hand were grazed, and she wondered if he had got that in the line of duty or doing some sort of handyman job.

‘Ouch!’ She jerked back as he dabbed her scraped knees with the cotton wool.

‘Sorry, but, believe me, this is hurting me more than it’s hurting you.’

Fran peered at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Are you laughing at me, Sergeant Hawke?’ she asked.

He gave her a glinting half-smile that did strange things to her stomach, making it tip upside down like a quickly flipped pancake. ‘Now, why would I do that, Dr Nin?’ he asked.

She scowled as he continued to dab at her knees. ‘I wish you would stop calling me that.’

He met her gaze in between dabs. ‘Too formal for you?’

She blew out a sigh. ‘I don’t feel like a doctor any more…at least I don’t want to.’

He placed two pieces of sticky plaster on each knee before he straightened. ‘So you’re going to throw away all those years of study to do what? Go on endless holidays?’ he asked, a disapproving frown narrowing the distance between his eyes as he looked down at her.

Fran stood up gingerly, conscious of how close he was standing to her. She could smell his male smell, warmth, a hint of citrus and a hint of perspiration full of sexy male pheromones, which was dangerously attractive. ‘I don’t know,’ she said in a deliberately airy tone. ‘I’m still thinking about it.’

He scrunched up the wrappers and tossed them in the pedal bin near his feet. ‘Well, while you’re thinking about it, why not think about this?’ he said, locking his gaze with hers. ‘There are people living here who need a doctor, not next week, not next month, but today. You don’t have to put in a ninety-hour week—no one is asking you to. But why not just a couple of hours, once or twice a week until a replacement is found?’

Fran would have pushed past him but it would have meant touching him and that she wanted to avoid. She’d had enough trouble keeping her head while he’d been tending to her knees. Feeling his gentle touch had switched on sensations she could still feel charging through her body. She lowered her gaze and ran her tongue over her lips, feeling cornered and confused. ‘I’m not interested, Sergeant Hawke,’ she said with as much firmness as she could muster, which wasn’t much.

Something about him made her feel deeply disturbed. It wasn’t just his male presence—it was also his commanding air of authority. He was a man used to getting his own way. She could see it in the carved-from-stone contours of his jaw, not to mention the ice-hard focus of his gaze when it locked on hers.

The phone on his belt began to ring and Fran let out a sigh of relief as he moved past her to answer it. Her reprieve was brief, however, for in less than thirty seconds Jacob was back, his car keys already tinkling in his hand.

‘There’s been an accident out on Valley Road,’ he said. ‘A teenager has fallen off her horse—sounds like at the very least a broken leg. The ambulance is away, taking Ella Pelleri to Wollongong Hospital, so the clinic receptionist has called in Careflight. We’ll drop by the ambulance station and pick up their trauma bag. You can stabilise the victim until the chopper arrives.’

‘But I—’ Fran quickly bit back her protest. What would be the point in saying she couldn’t handle it, that two emergencies in one day was asking way too much of her? She could see from the look in Jacob’s eyes there was no way he was going to take no for an answer.