She breathed in—this time a long, slow, delicious breath, which not only absorbed Marco’s scent, but also the firmness of his chest, the warmth of his skin, and the loud and solid sound of his beating heart.

His fingers, which had gently held her with perfect stillness, started moving against her skin with feather-soft touches.

Heat built.

She gasped as his heart jumped to match hers, sending vibrations of unambiguous wanting—his wanting—into every cell of her body. His body called to hers, urging a response, but the call was unnecessary. Her body was already throbbing to the beat of his.

What are you doing?

With a gut-dropping shock, she realised exactly what she was doing. Oh, God. Not only weren’t his arms a place of safety and protection—they had Danger written all over them.

Dear Reader

A couple of years ago I was fortunate enough to attend a polo match. Watching those nuggety polo ponies strut their stuff was awe-inspiring. With their hogged (roached) manes and braided tails, they have amazing agility and can turn on the spot. Polo players will tell you that their game is eighty percent horse and twenty percent their own skill.

Ever since that sunny Saturday afternoon I have wanted to have a polo match in a book, but each story ended up on a different trajectory and the polo match didn’t fit. Until now. I mean how could I have a gorgeous Argentine hero and not have a polo match?

However, I didn’t realise how important this polo match would be to my characters until I wrote the book and the polo match became another character in the story.

Marco is from Argentina and living in Outback Australia. He answered the call to come to Australia to help fill the doctor shortage, and now he is there his greatest wish is to stay and carve out a life for himself and his young son, who has mild cerebral palsy.

Lucy Patterson grew up in Bulla Creek, Western Australia, the much-loved only child of the local doctor. In keeping with family tradition Lucy became a doctor, and had plans to join her father—until her mother died and her world was turned upside down.

I’ll let the book tell their story. Meanwhile, if you want to see the pictures and videos that inspired the book head to www.fionalowe.com. I love to hear from my readers, and you can find me on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Happy Reading!

Love

Fiona xx

About the Author

Always an avid reader, FIONA LOWE decided to combine her love of romance with her interest in all things medical, so writing Medical™ Romance was an obvious choice! She lives in a seaside town in southern Australia, where she juggles writing, reading, working and raising two gorgeous sons with the support of her own real-life hero!

Recent books by the same author:

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL:

TOM’S REDEMPTION

CAREER GIRL IN THE COUNTRY

SINGLE DAD’S TRIPLE TROUBLE

THE MOST MAGICAL GIFT OF ALL

HER BROODING ITALIAN SURGEON

MIRACLE: TWIN BABIES

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Letting Go
With
Dr Rodriguez

Fiona Lowe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Monica, with thanks

for giving my eldest son an amazing time in France,

and for all her help with Marco’s Spanish.

Special thanks to Alan,

who cheerfully answered my e-mail

and gave me a rundown on the intricacies of visas.

CHAPTER ONE

‘LUCE, wait.’

Dr Lucy Patterson heard the call and with a smile, she thrust her hand against the fast-closing elevator doors at Perth City Hospital. They bounced open.

A moment later, Daniel Edgerton, radiographer and her boyfriend, strode over the silver threshold. ‘Thanks.’ His smile for her wasn’t quite as broad as it had been in the past, but if he was as weary as she was, she totally understood.

He slapped the large ‘G’ button with the heel of his hand. ‘You finishing up for the day?’

She bit her lip, knowing he wasn’t going to be thrilled with her reply. ‘Not quite. I have to admit a late addition to the prof’s surgical list and re-site an IV.’

His sigh reverberated around the boxed space, settling over her with cloying disapproval. He worked a roster with a definite start and end time, and he didn’t always understand that her day finished when the work was finally complete. With forced brightness and a wide smile, she quickly added, ‘But then I’ll be done and yours for the night.’

Daniel opened his mouth but an ominous grinding sound drowned out his reply and the smooth descent of the elevator suddenly jerked, throwing Lucy sideways.

She gripped the support rail and righted herself. ‘Please, no, not again. I got stuck here last week for twenty minutes.’

‘It’s not a total disaster.’ Daniel reached his arm around her waist, pulling her in close and nuzzling her neck as he ran his hand up her back, his fingers reaching for her bra strap. ‘We can do a lot with twenty minutes.’

She laughed, but splayed her fingers against his chest, leaning back and putting some distance between them. ‘True, but I’m not risking my senior registrar’s application by being caught “in flagrante” in an elevator.’

His blue eyes hardened as he dropped his arms to his sides. ‘Jess didn’t have a problem with it.’

She blinked at him in surprise. Jess was her house-mate of four years and they got along well, sharing not only a house but gossip, clothes and after a tough day, a glass of wine. ‘There’s no way Jess would have sex in an elevator.’

He shrugged—the action a total disregard of her reply. ‘There’s every way and she did.’

A jab of indignation caught Lucy under the ribs and she crossed her arms. ‘If Jess had sex in an elevator she’d have told me.’

Daniel’s brows rose as his mouth flattened. ‘She doesn’t have to tell you everything, Luce, and let’s face it, just lately you’ve hardly been around.’

Lucy stifled a flicker of unease that Jess may have confided in Dan rather than her. ‘Why are you so certain she did?’

This time Daniel crossed his arms. ‘Because I was there.’

‘You were there?’ Confusion drove the words across her lips and for the briefest moment she thought Daniel meant he’d walked in on Jess and her lover when the elevator doors had opened. Suddenly, her sluggish brain decoded his body language—stiff and defiant—and a chill raced through her so hard and fast that she trembled. ‘You had sex with Jess?’ Her voice rose and cracked. ‘Here?’

He met her shocked gaze with a combative glare. ‘Yeah.’

Her friend. Her hand flew to her mouth as nausea spun her stomach and threatened to return the chocolate muffin she’d just eaten. Stepping back, she flattened herself against the wall and tried to put as much distance between them as possible. ‘When?’

Dan sucked in his lips and finally said, ‘Last week.’

She thought back to the sex they’d had last Wednesday after she’d cooked his favourite dinner—the night she’d been the one making all the moves. At the time it had surprised her because usually Dan initiated sex, but it hadn’t taken long before he’d got on board. Her stomach pitched again. Desperately trying to keep her composure, she spoke softly but with an edge of steel. ‘When last week?’

For the first time, he dropped his gaze. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

She gripped the support rail as her knees turned to jelly. ‘Yes, it bloody matters.’

He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. ‘Look, Luce, there’s no point—’

‘Tell me!’ She heard her tears in the shout as she lost the battle to hold herself together.

‘Wednesday afternoon.’

It was as if the cable of the elevator snapped right there and then, releasing the silver box into free-fall. Only it was her life that was tumbling and crashing down around her, and taking all the supporting pillars with it. Pillars she’d barely shored up after they’d spectacularly collapsed in on her six months ago, making her question everything she’d ever believed in.

Every part of her was numb—her lungs refused to move and tears blurred her eyes. How could this be happening? Why now when everything else in her life, including her career, was so unsettled? A shot of righteous anger suddenly pierced through the numbness giving rise to blessed pain. ‘You bastard.’

His head snapped up. ‘Oh, that’s rich. I’m the bastard, but you’ve been the one who’s been closed off for months. You might be standing next to me, but you’re never really here. Jess at least understands me. Jess gives me something. You’ve given me nothing for way too long, Lucy.’

Her anger swelled, propelled by a hammering heart and utter devastation. ‘You’re not just a bastard, Dan, you’re a selfish bastard. You know what’s been going on with me and Da—’ She stopped herself, not able to finish that particular word. She swallowed and pushed on. ‘With William. You know what I’ve been going through, but that doesn’t count for anything, does it? Nothing matters if it’s not all about you.’

His mouth tightened giving his boyish face a hard edge. ‘It’s been all about you for months, Luce, and I’ve had enough.’

She’d known in her heart things weren’t good between them, but she’d never expected such a bitter betrayal. ‘Then why didn’t you just leave? Why take my friend with you?’

A light came into his eyes. ‘I think I love her.’

The simple words plunged into her heart making her double up in pain. Words he’d never voiced to her in all their time together. Her chest rose and fell way too fast and she put her hands around her mouth so she didn’t hyperventilate.

Daniel slammed his hands against the ‘door open’ button. ‘Come on.’ He hit every other button too, wanting out of this box of torrid emotions as much as she did.

Lucy dug deep and found her voice. ‘You say you love Jess and yet you still had sex with me? Oh, that’s classy, Dan, really classy.’ The combined infidelity of her friends burned through her soul. ‘You both deserve each other.’

A trace of contrition played across his cheeks. ‘Look, Luce, I’m sorry it ended this way, but it’s not all my fault.’

Utter wretchedness dragged at her and she nodded mutely, not because she agreed with him, but because she couldn’t voice even a tenth of her feelings at the utter disloyalty of the two people she’d drawn on for support over most of the year.

A whirring noise sounded, followed by the elevator moving slowly down. Finally the doors opened with a ping and Daniel muttered, ‘Thank God,’ before stepping out and walking away without a backwards glance.

The doors slid shut and Lucy sank to the floor, closing her eyes. Even in her darkest moments she’d never imagined she would have been part of the conversation that had just taken place. She lurched from one memory to another, searching for clues, hints—anything at all that might have prepared her for Daniel’s bombshell. Things had been strained, but there’d been no hint of him and Jess.

None that you noticed. But then again, you haven’t noticed much lately, have you?

Her head pounded and resentment burned through her. She felt her smart-phone vibrate and she pulled it out of the deep pocket in her white coat, expecting a message from the ward asking where she was and how much longer she’d be, because her patient was overdue for IV antibiotics. The message wasn’t from the ward, but an email from an unfamiliar name.

She squinted through her headache to make the words come into focus.

Ms Patterson,

As you know, your father, Dr William Patterson, has fractured his tibia. He is not a man to ask for help so I, as his doctor and the second medical practitioner in Bulla Creek, am asking for you to visit at your earliest convenience. Marco Rodriguez (Dr)

She stared at the email, reading it three times before the words finally sank in. Fractured tibia? She bit her lip as guilt spun around worry. Of course she hadn’t known about William’s leg. She hadn’t communicated with him in months and the emails he’d sent had dealt only with the information she’d requested. None had mentioned his health. Neither had he mentioned a doctor with a Spanish name and a formal writing style, which indicated that English wasn’t his native language. What was a Spaniard doing in outback Bulla Creek?

At your earliest convenience. She instinctively shook her head and then, from the tangled mess that was currently her life, she stared up at the ceiling of the elevator absolutely certain about one thing. No way was she going back to Bulla Creek.

You mean home.

‘No, I mean Bulla Creek.’ Her emphatic voice sounded strident in the confines of the otherwise empty elevator.

Right, so you’re ignoring duty, staying in Perth where your boyfriend’s just dumped you, and your housemate has utterly betrayed you. That’s gonna be cosy. Kinda makes Bulla Creek almost attractive, doesn’t it?

Lucy dropped her head in her hands and wished she could wind back the clock one year—back to a time when she knew who she was, knew where she belonged and where she was headed. Instead she now faced a road that stretched way out in front of her that was filled with a pea-soup fog.

Every part of her railed against the idea of going back to Bulla Creek, but the news about William tore at the box she’d shoved all her feelings about him into—feelings she didn’t want to revisit. They came back anyway in unsettling waves. No matter what had happened between them and no matter how much she didn’t want to see him, she couldn’t just ignore the fact he’d broken his leg. Not at his age. The doctor in her knew that only too well. Acknowledging it smoothed out her tangled thoughts.

‘I’ll take some annual leave, fly up to Bulla Creek for a quick visit and check that William’s receiving the correct medical care. Then I’ll come back here, find a new place to live and sort out the rest of my life, which won’t include disloyal friends and cheating, bastard men.’

You do realise there isn’t anyone here listening except me and I don’t need to hear you talk to know exactly what you’re thinking.

‘Shut-up.’ The yell propelled Lucy to her feet and she brushed down her white coat. Her life was in tatters, but at least she had a plan. One she was clinging to like a floating log in a choppy sea.

The red dust of Bulla Creek was covered in a layer of green, courtesy of a record-setting wet winter followed by a sunny spring. The sheep wore thick fleeces, lambs gambolled on fat legs and the farmers smiled, which was almost as uncommon as the weather. Dr Marco Rodriguez returned a farmer’s hat tip and grin as he strode down the main street toward the Bulla Creek Medical Centre. It wasn’t the first time he’d reflected on the fact that, in general, farmers in Western Australia shared a taciturn approach to life that was very similar to that of the farmers of his homeland of Argentina. Life on the land was tough and a good season was cause for celebration.

He turned left at the rust-and-sand-coloured church, which stood diagonally opposite the pub. Both buildings had been built over a hundred years ago from local rocks quarried when veins of lead in the nearby hills had guaranteed prosperity. Bulla Creek today was not as affluent as it had been back then, but the legacy of heritage buildings not only reminded residents of its wealthy past, but more importantly it brought in tourists with money to spend. People paid a lot to step back in time and spend a weekend or longer imagining simpler times.

Marco knew it was just an illusion. There’d been nothing simple about living without running water and basic hygiene in a time when a broken leg had often resulted in amputation, when the birth of a child could easily take the life of a mother and a secondary infection after a common cold could kill. Even today, childbirth had its risks and he was far too intimate with the dangers.

Pulling open the door of the modern medical clinic, which also fronted a small hospital annexe of five acute-care beds and ten nursing-home beds, he walked into a packed waiting room. Just as he’d done every day for the last few weeks since his medical partner had fallen ill. He was worried about William who’d been adamant he didn’t want his daughter told about his accident, although when he spoke of her his eyes lit up before sadness filled them.

William was not his usual, upbeat self and he was taking longer to return to work than expected. With the death of his wife earlier in the year and now the fracture, Marco believed he needed cheering up.

He pressed down on the ripple of unease that had been trickling through him ever since he’d overridden the other doctor’s request and written to William’s daughter. He’d needed to do something because he really believed William needed time with family so he could re-find his spark. With one doctor down, Marco’s days ran together in a long blur of work with snatches of fatherhood wedged in between. This wasn’t what he’d envisaged when he’d made the decision to come to Bulla Creek. It was supposed to have meant more time for Ignacio, not less. He needed William back at work yesterday.

He swallowed a sigh and mustered up a smile for his waiting patients because his problems were not theirs and they deserved his complete attention. ‘Buenos días. Good morning, everyone. I am at your service in just a few moments.’

‘We have an empty waiting room and I’m off home. You should go too while you can.’

Marco looked up from reading pathology reports to see Sue Hogarth, practice nurse, farmer’s wife and soon-to-be grandmother, standing in the doorway of his office. ‘Ten minutes more.’

She nodded slowly. ‘I’ll lock up the front doors then and all you have to do is go out the back and make sure it’s locked behind you.’

‘Sure. Thank you for your help today.’

‘Ah, Marco, that all Australian men could be so polite. See you tomorrow when we get to do it all again.’ She grinned and pushed off the architrave preparing to leave, but turned back suddenly. ‘Oh, Ignacio’s appointment’s been changed to Tuesday. I’ve put it directly into your electronic calendar. Night.’

‘Goodnight.’ He heard her fading footsteps and the door slam shut. He waited a moment and then smiled as he soaked up the peace of a closed clinic—silent phones, still rooms and the blissful quiet of absolutely no interruptions. He finished reading the reports, methodically listing the names of the patients that Sue needed to call tomorrow to schedule review appointments, and as he reached the last one he let out a breath. Thankfully there were no sinister results in this batch and he was spared the need to make the hard phone call and give someone seriously bad news. He hated doing that as it reminded him of the time he’d received it and the powerlessness that came with it.

He texted Heather—his housekeeper and Ignacio’s afterschool caregiver—telling her he’d be home in ten minutes and then he packed up his desk. Grabbing his bag, he entered the corridor and headed toward the back door, flicking off the hall lights as he reached the switch. The expected darkness didn’t come. With a sigh, he realised that Sue had left the office light on and he spun on his heel, walking the length of the corridor to turn it off.

As he slid his hand up the doorway to reach the switch, something made him glance into the room. A round and pert, jeans-clad bottom stared straight at him. ‘Querido Dios.’ Shocked surprise sent his English scurrying and it took a moment for him to find the correct words. ‘What are you doing?’

A young woman turned abruptly from the computer, her chin-length, chestnut-red hair swinging wildly around her guilt-streaked face. Round eyes, the colour of an Argentine summer sky just before the descent of a storm, stared at him, brimming with a thousand emotions. A heartbeat later they cleared as if she was practised in forcing her feelings to retreat until only defiance remained. She stood less than tall despite the boost of high wedge heels and then her chin tilted up, her shoulders rolled back and her breasts rose, straining against the free-flowing pink halter top that draped itself around her curves and ended by softly caressing her hips.

A jolt of heat whipped him—heat that hadn’t flared in his veins for a long time—and for the briefest of moments his eyes followed the tantalising fall of the soft material as if they hoped to glimpse what nestled behind it. Thankfully, common sense shot in to rescue him and he quickly hauled his gaze back to her face.

At that precise moment he knew the words he should have spoken were ‘Who are you?’

As if reading his mind she stepped forward, extending her hand. ‘You must be Marco Rodriguez. I’m Lucy.’

The overly wide smile gave her away. From the age of fourteen girls had flirted with him, and it had taken him almost as long to learn that the flirting wasn’t always about wanting him. Often it was about wanting something else entirely—a bitter lesson that Bianca had taught him too well. Now at thirty-three, his radar was pretty well tuned. She spoke as if he should recognise her, using his name as a bridge to connect them with a familiarity that didn’t exist. He had an excellent memory and he knew they’d not met before.

You would have remembered those breasts.

He shrugged away the inconvenient awakening of his libido and focused on the facts. He might not know her but he did know that whoever she was, she shouldn’t be here in an office that didn’t belong to her. Neither should she be viewing a computer that contained the confidential files of all of the patients of Bulla Creek and the surrounding district.

A fizz of anger shook him and for the first time in a long, long time his inherent good manners deserted him. He didn’t greet her and instead left her extended hand hovering between them.

Damn it. Lucy’s plan of coming unobserved into the clinic after hours was unravelling faster than a skein of wool in the claws of a cat. It had taken all day to drive from Perth and she’d only arrived half an hour ago. During that time she’d been parked outside in her new car with a cap pulled low on her head so she wouldn’t be recognised. She didn’t want to talk to anyone in town before she’d seen William and she wanted to read his medical file before she spoke to him.

When Sue had finished her methodical locking-up routine and had double checked everything, Lucy had been certain the clinic was empty and that she was good to go. Even then, she’d held back, checking the immediate area for other cars parked in the clinic car park or nearby. Only then had she been convinced the building was empty.

You got that wrong.

She had to fight hard not to bite her lip. That the man in front of her could grace the runway of a fashion show and make every woman in the crowd swoon was a given, but considering an average-looking guy had just tossed her aside, treating fidelity as if it was completely expendable, she was now giving all men a wide berth. No matter how handsome or how thick, dark and wavy was the hair which fell over the top of tanned ears and teased fingers to brush it back, she would not be tempted. She was especially impervious to square, broad shoulders that despite her being in her highest heels were at perfect head-resting height. She’d been fooled by the promise of a safe haven more than once.

No, the effort required not to bite her lip came from the derisive look that scoured his high cheek bones and burned from his rich-cocoa-coloured eyes. The look that said, I wouldn’t touch your hand if you were the last woman on earth.

He crossed his toned arms with their dark hairs almost standing on end over his wide chest and completely ignored her hand. ‘I do not know you.’ His accent thickened. ‘You should not be here.’

You know he’s correct.

She gritted her teeth against her conscience and told herself she had the right to be here. Mustering up a smile, the winning one she’d used a lot as a child to get her own way, she forced her hand to stay hovering between them despite wanting to whip it back by her side and dry the sweat on her jeans. All she needed to do was explain who she was and her plan would be safe. ‘I’m Lucy Patterson. You emailed me about William.’

‘You’re William’s daughter?’ Chocolate brows shot halfway up an intelligent forehead and his gaze raked her from head to toe as disbelief momentarily pushed his anger aside.

She was used to this reaction, having experienced it often from the age of sixteen when it had become obvious she was never going to grow any taller. Once it had made her laugh and she’d had a steady stream of jokes at the ready about her and William’s excessive height differences. Only that had been before everything had changed and a lifetime lie had been exposed. ‘Like I said, I’m Lucy Patterson.’ She tilted her extended hand slightly.

He slowly uncrossed his folded arms and slid his right palm against hers, his long fingers curving around her hand like a splash of dark paint against a white canvas. The heat burned her, shooting up her arm before diving deep and leaving behind a trail of addictive tingles and shivers.

Oh, no. Not now and not here. Shocked at her body’s reaction, she abruptly pulled her hand away to the safety of her side. After the debacle that had been her relationship with Daniel, she didn’t want or need any type of attraction to any man. Especially one in Bulla Creek where she wouldn’t live again even if they paid her.

Marco didn’t seem to have noticed her hasty end to their handshake. ‘Lucy Patterson, why are you here?’

Lucy wondered if perhaps his English wasn’t as good as she’d assumed. She smiled again. ‘You wrote to me and asked me to come, so here I am.’

Two deep lines etched into the bridge of his nose. ‘I asked you to come and visit your father, not the computer in this office.’

The muscles in her cheeks ached from the continual bright smile. A smile that didn’t seem to be having any effect on its intended target. She went for chatty. ‘I’m not sure what doctors are like where you come from, but in Australia the combination of being male and a doctor makes the worst type of patient.’

Marco tilted his head in thought and a curl fell forward. ‘This may be.’

Yes, she was getting somewhere. ‘So it makes sense for me to read his medical history before I see him.’

So now you’re lying to other people and not just yourself.

Again, she silenced her conscience. Let me do things my way.

Marco continued to stare at her with a questioning look. ‘But you are not William’s doctor.’

‘No, but I am a doctor.’

Again his gaze censored her. ‘Then you should know better.’

She tossed her head, overriding the sliver of guilt that pierced her and instead converted it into righteous indignation. ‘William hasn’t mentioned to me that he broke his leg and at his age a fall can be a sign of other things so it makes sense for me to read his file.’

‘Your father is not so ill that he can’t speak. William is very capable of telling you the information.’ A look of realisation suddenly shone brightly in his enigmatic eyes. ‘Have you spoken to him?’

She shrugged so as not to squirm and held onto her bravado. ‘Thank you for emailing me, but I’ve got it all under control.’ She moved back toward the computer.

In two long strides he was by her side with his hands on her upper arms and suddenly her feet left the floor.

Abject offence roared through her. ‘Hey! Put me down.’

A moment later, she was back on terra firma with Marco, feet wide apart, standing solidly between her and the computer and blocking her path.

His glare matched hers—incensed and scowling. ‘As William’s doctor and partner in this practice, I will not allow you to read his file without his permission.’

She held onto her dignity by a thread. ‘I’m his next of kin.’

‘Sí, so you know that does not give you the right to read his file.’ His hand shot out. ‘You have a key to the clinic?’

Her arms shot over her chest as guilt and anger hammered her. ‘I’m not giving it to you.’

‘You do not work here and I do not trust you.’

‘I grew up here.’ Words spluttered in her throat, chained by a rush of conflicting emotions that made her sway. ‘God, I spent so many Saturday mornings playing in the waiting room that it was my second home. You’re the stranger here, buddy, not me.’

He didn’t even flinch. If anything he seemed more implacable than ever and the quietness of his voice didn’t hide for a moment his firm intent. ‘Go and talk with your father.’

The prospect of talking to William had anxiety and heartache making her feet twitch in readiness to run far from Bulla Creek. ‘I will read that file.’

He shook his head. ‘Not without William’s permission.’

‘Fine, I’ll ask Sue.’

His jaw stiffened. ‘I think that Sue is disappointed that you have not been to see your father in a long time. She will side with me.’

She swallowed hard, hating that the town might have turned on her without knowing the full story. Her hands shot out in bitter aggravation. ‘This isn’t how we do things in the country.’

This time one brow rose sardonically. ‘So, you would let anyone read your patients’ files where you work? If this is so, I would not want to be under your care.’

The shot against her professionalism jolted her hard.

You know he’s right. From before he caught you trying to read the file you’ve known he was right.

My situation is different. She harnessed all her frustration, using it to push away the other emotions that threatened to swamp her the way they had on and off over the last six months. She fisted her hands by her sides. ‘You know nothing about me, Dr Rodriguez, and therefore not enough to judge me.’

Before he could reply, she pushed past him, stalking out into the fading light and back to her car, homeless in a town she’d once called home. Only then did she allow herself to cry.

CHAPTER TWO

‘PAPÁ?’

Marco lay on his son’s bed as part of their ‘goodnight’ ritual. ‘Yes.’

‘No boys …” Ignacio spoke slowly, each word an effort to form perfectly. He breathed in ‘… have crutches.’

Marco tried to keep the tension out of his voice. ‘Lots of boys use crutches.’

‘Not at school. Not in town. I looked.’

Marco swallowed a familiar sigh. ‘You are right. No other boys in Bulla Creek use crutches, but you’re special.’

‘No. I’m not.’ Ignacio’s voice rose and his small body spasmed, making it even more rigid than its usual state. ‘I’m different. I don’t like it.’

Each word pierced Marco’s heart. A part of him knew that one day his wonderful son would make the connection that he didn’t have the same free and easy control of his body as most other boys his age. Marco had hoped however that the realisation would come much later than at a mere five years of age. The irony of it all was that inside a body that failed Ignacio daily on so many levels was a mind that was sharp and fiercely intelligent.

‘Querido, your crutches are your friend when your legs are tired. Now you must sleep so your legs are rested in the morning.’

He slid the soft-toy koala, the one Ignacio had chosen on their arrival at Sydney airport, into his arms and then tucked in the sheet and light blanket around him. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he whispered, ‘I love you. Sleep well.’

‘I love you, too, Papá.’

Marco closed the door behind him and walked directly to the kitchen. Heather had prepared a plate of cold chicken and salad for him and as he poured himself a glass of wine to accompany the food, he wished he was eating a thick steak straight off the barbecue instead of yet another cold meal. Of course, he could fire up the grill and cook one, but he lacked the energy. Bulla Creek, the place he’d come to as a sanctuary and for a new start, was wearing him out.

As he ate, he glanced at the calendar, mentally calculating how long William had been out of action. It felt disloyal to wish his colleague and mentor back at his desk when he clearly didn’t feel up to it and yet if William could give just two hours a day to see the straightforward cases it would ease Marco’s load considerably.

Lucy Patterson is a doctor. You could ask her to help.

No. He pushed his plate away and took a long gulp of his wine as the combined image of wild, grey eyes and pale cheeks stained with pink hit him. It was instantly followed up with the backhander of a lush-red, pouting and highly kissable mouth. His blood pounded more than a fraction faster.

He quickly stood up and stowed his plate in the dishwasher as if movement would empty his mind of her. It galled him that his body had decided to come alive in the presence of a woman who looked like a fragile porcelain doll, but in personality was the exact opposite. Plus, she came with questionable professional ethics. A lesser man would have melted under the incensed fire blazing from those eyes, which had flared when he’d denied her access to the computer.

His palms suddenly glowed hot, reliving the soft warmth of her skin where he’d touched her arms. Skin that covered surprisingly taut muscles that had hinted at some weight-work. That he’d lifted her out of the way still shocked him, but he’d acted out of loyalty to William. William was his patient and he knew nothing of Lucy.

William didn’t speak of her and Sue had sighed when she’d reluctantly handed over the email address saying, ‘He won’t be happy about this and she should know better.’ At the time, he’d been intent on getting some help for William and by default for himself so Marco hadn’t given Sue’s statement much thought. However, now he’d met Lucy Patterson, he wondered if it was her conduct as a doctor that was the issue that lay between her and her father. William was one of the most principled and professional doctors Marco had ever worked with and he couldn’t imagine him condoning any behaviour that went against his code of practice.

No, it was enough that William would resent his intrusion in summoning his daughter without Marco adding to it by asking her to work in the clinic. He couldn’t in all conscience have someone in the practice who ignored protocol. No, Lucy Patterson wasn’t the answer to his problems.

Decision made, he took his wine out onto the back deck which overlooked the surrounding rocky hills and breathed in the sweet, cool evening air that slid in over the fading heat. Out here, he could usually shed some of the pressures that plagued him, but not tonight. As he watched the night star rise in the darkening sky, his thoughts spun out to Argentina and to his parents who were anxious to join him in Bulla Creek the moment he was granted permanent residency and he could legally sponsor them. They missed their grandson. His thoughts bounced back to Ignacio’s heartbreak. He let his head fall back on that grief, feeling it moving through him again, just like it had years before, and then suddenly, without any bidding, an image of Lucy Patterson’s curvaceous behind swooped in sending all other thoughts scattering.

Swearing in Spanish, he stood up and walked inside.

Lucy repaired her makeup in the car using the tiny mirror on the visor and then ran a brush through her hair. The yellow light gave her a jaundiced look and she pinched her cheeks trying to infuse some colour. She should have checked into the motel, but she really didn’t want to meet anyone she knew until she’d spoken to William. She stared at her pale face. ‘Lucy Jane whoever-you-are, it’s time.’

Stepping out onto the sweeping, circular driveway outside Haven, the gravel crunched under her feet and she stared up at the house. The stone and iron cottage with its whitewashed window sills and decorative wooden veranda rails stood as it had for the last one hundred and thirty years. It had been her home from the age of one when her parents had moved with her to Bulla Creek, and right up until she’d left for university. After that it had been her haven when life in Perth pressed in on her, and she’d run home for some rest, relaxation and general cosseting.

All that had changed and now it was a house associated with heartache. Part of her wanted to knock on the front door to emphasise her visitor status, but it was a long walk from the back of the house and no matter how furious she was with William, he would be on crutches. She didn’t want him to walk further than necessary so she walked around the side of the house, opened the squeaky gate and entered the cottage garden. The scent of lavender hit her nostrils and she breathed in deeply, trying to use its calming properties. To her left, an enormous grapevine grew over a frame, providing shade to what William had always called ‘their outdoor living room’.

Her gaze extended beyond the deck, through the large, glass doors and into the kitchen. She saw William sitting at the long, Baltic pine table, with crutches resting on one end as well as a cane. A book lay in front of him, and he held a glass in his hand. Her heart rolled over despite itself. When had he got old? The last time she’d seen him his hair had had flecks of silver streaking through the black. Now all his hair was silver grey.

Go in, talk to him, and make sure he’s okay.

She tossed her head as she grumbled quietly to herself. ‘Yes, I’m going inside but after that, I’m checking into the motel.’

Blowing out a breath, she tried to capture a semblance of composure because everything to do with William always generated a mass of contradictory feelings. She rolled her shoulders back, raised her hand, knocked and walked in.

‘Hello, William.’

The man she’d called her father for twenty-six years looked up from his book, shock draining his face of colour. ‘Lucy.’ He stared at her and blinked, as if he didn’t believe his eyes, and then slowly his mouth curved up into a wide and familiar smile. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’

She bit her lip, not knowing what to say because ‘Just passing through, thought I’d drop in’ didn’t allow for the seven hundred kilometre journey from Perth. She tilted her head toward the crutches. ‘You’ve been in the wars.’

He raised his leg, the cast white against the dark material of his trousers, and gave a self-deprecating grimace. ‘Came off my bike dodging a kangaroo. Big red hopped away and now I’m hopping too.’

His humour circled her like it always had—warm and loving—but she refused to give in to it because being a doctor was so much easier than the minefield of being his daughter. ‘So I see. Any other damage besides a fractured tibia?’

His smile faded slightly. ‘How do you know I have a fractured tibia? I haven’t mentioned what bones I broke.’

Busted. But she had no qualms telling him the truth because she had no need to protect the source, especially given what had happened. ‘Your Spanish doctor emailed me.’

For some reason her face felt suddenly hot, which was crazy because she hadn’t even said the man’s name. However, since she’d stormed out of the clinic, each time she’d thought about the raven-haired, accented doctor, this heat-fest flared inside her. She wanted it to stop.

‘He’s not Spanish. He’s from Argentina.’ William’s face sagged, making him look more haggard than ever. ‘So, the only reason you’re in Bulla Creek is because Marco asked you to come?’

She shrugged trying not to let his palpable hurt touch her. She was hurting too, only her reason was much bigger and more life-altering than his. ‘I’m here to make sure you’re getting the right medical care.’

This time William shrugged and when he spoke his voice held the well-modulated tone of a country GP giving a report to a colleague. ‘You can set your mind at ease immediately. Marco is more than competent and the break wasn’t complicated, but even so he insisted on me going to Geraldton to see Jeremy Lucas, the orthopod. As you can see, I’m doing well and I’ve graduated to a walking stick.’

She wanted to believe him, but evidence to the contrary was in front of them. ‘So why the crutches?’

‘I was tired tonight after more walking more than usual so I’ve been using crutches. If you don’t believe me about the break, you can look at the X-rays if you wish.’

‘Dr Rodriguez wouldn’t let me look at anything.’

He frowned again. ‘You’ve been to the clinic?’

She shifted on her feet realising there was absolutely nothing wrong with her father’s lightning-quick brain. It was a good thing except when it pertained to her. ‘I had to drive past the clinic to get here so it made sense to call in first.’

You’re big on self-delusion today.

She kept talking to silence her conscience. ‘But like I said, he wouldn’t give me any information and he told me in no uncertain terms …” she found herself gently stroking the tops of her arms and dropped her hands away fast ‘… that I had to talk to you.’

‘As it should be.’ His lips twitched. ‘Still, I imagine that would have been very frustrating for you.’ The words held the type of understanding that only came from knowing someone for a very long time, and they held a slight hint of censure.

‘It was.’ She braced herself, expecting him to say something about the fact she hadn’t spoken to him in months.

He cleared his throat. ‘As you can see I’m doing fine and the cast comes off in a few days. Sharon comes in each day to cook and clean just as she has all year, and Sue calls in as well. There’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about.’

William rose to his feet and ignoring the crutches used his cane to rest against. ‘Cup of tea?’

She hesitated, rationalising that he sounded fine and he seemed to have everything organised without her help so she didn’t have to stay.

He doesn’t look fine. He looks tired, old and sad.

She didn’t want to think about that because it tempted her to question the decision she’d made months ago. ‘Um … thanks, but it’s been a long day and … um … I still need to check into the motel.’

‘The motel?’ William’s movement stalled and his face paled. ‘Lucy, you know you always have a room here if you want or need it.’ He stared at her silently, not asking her to stay in words but with his hazel eyes which filled with quiet hope.

She swallowed, trying to hold herself together as the long drive, her horrible last two days and the fracas in the clinic slammed into the comforting scent of bergamot, fresh mint and leather-bound books—some of the many fragrances that defined her childhood. Despite the catastrophic disclosure that had changed everything, despite her anger and confusion regarding William and Bulla Creek, the aromas of yesteryear pulled at her strongly, upending her plan of a quick, clinical visit.

Fatigue clawed at her like sticky mud on boots and the thought of having to deal with the questioning looks of Loretta, the gossipy motel owner, was more than she could bear. She was a grown-up, not a child, and surely she could get through one night in this house with all its ghosts. One night of duty to really make sure William was doing as well as he said.

She sank into the comforting depths of the chesterfield before she could talk herself out of it and said, ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

Lucy squinted against the bright sunlight which poured into her bedroom through the now thin and faded pink curtains. She flipped onto her side, pulling the pillow over her head, but then the raucous screech of the white cockatoos greeting the dawn shocked her fully awake. As her heart rate slowed, she remembered she was lying in her childhood bed in Haven, back at Bulla Creek.

This time her heart rate stayed normal, but her stomach squirted acid. At this rate, her stress levels were going to seriously injure her. She threw back the covers. Shower first and then food.

Twenty minutes later she padded into the kitchen, totally starving and on the search for breakfast.

She found a note on the pantry door scrawled in William’s trademark black ink and squinted, trying to decipher it. No nib, however fine, had ever improved his doctor’s handwriting. Seeing it drew her back in time to when she’d been a fourteen-year-old girl watching the man she hero-worshipped writing at the old oak desk in the study and telling her that the fountain pen, which had been his father’s, would belong to her one day.

Just think, Lucy, there could be three generations of doctors in the family writing prescriptions with the same pen. Wouldn’t that be special?

At the time she’d thought it would be amazingly special because it meant the need to care and heal ran so strongly in the Pattersons’ veins it couldn’t be denied, and she was part of that destiny.

Lucy gave herself a shake and centred her thoughts on the prosaic present. William no longer wrote prescriptions with the fountain pen because they were computer generated and printed, and she wasn’t certain the pen represented anything any more other than being part of the elaborate fake facade of her life.

She read the note.

I hope you’ll stay for lunch. My treat at the Shearer’s Arms at noon? Either way, please don’t go without a goodbye. Dad x

Last time she’d left Haven she’d run through a veil of tears propelled by anger and the devastating cost of a lifelong lie. Ironically, she was back here not only to check up on William, but because of another lie. Only the loss of Daniel didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as the loss of Jess.

She ran her hands through her hair, missing her friend who she’d always turned to for advice, especially after the death of Ruth when everything had gone so pear-shaped. Now she had no one to talk to.

I give good advice. Not that you listen much.

She ignored her own unsolicited advice and glanced at the huge station-style clock in the kitchen, its black hands showing that it wasn’t even seven. Five long hours until lunch.

Facing William alone over lunch.

She knew he would have booked the alcove table, the one tucked away from prying eyes and flapping ears so they could ‘talk’. She pressed her temples with her fingers. She didn’t want to do that, but then again she really didn’t want to leave abruptly again either. Putting the invitation into the ‘too hard basket’, she filled the kettle and set it to boil before opening the pantry door. She stepped inside its cool walls. The usually groaning shelves were understocked and as she reached for a box of breakfast cereal, her gaze landed on a blister pack of tablets that were slid in next to the breakfast condiments. She picked them up, turned them over and read the name. Anti-hypertensive tablets. She frowned. How long had William been taking blood pressure medication?

The doctor in her wanted to ask him right now, but waking him up to do that wasn’t the best idea. She picked up the cereal and noticed the box was almost empty. She checked the fridge, which had no yoghurt and only a small amount of milk. She pulled open the freezer and apart from a sports pack and a bag of peas and one casserole, it was predominantly filled with ice. Grabbing a pen, she wrote a shopping list, and then she pulled six grocery bags from the pantry and picked up her keys. Before she left Bulla Creek, she’d make sure William had a full pantry and a few more frozen meals.

The supermarket manager was just opening the doors when Lucy arrived in town. She didn’t know him, but she gave him a nod as she passed through and wrestled with a trolley which didn’t want to leave its pack. Welcoming the chance to focus on groceries, which were delightfully simple compared with everything else in her life, she started collecting the ingredients for a variety of casseroles. The radio blared loudly and she sang along with the music right up to when she presented her load to the checkout. She’d just started placing her items on the black conveyer belt when she jumped at the blast of an air horn and dropped a can of tomatoes.

‘Loud, eh?’ The heavily made-up teenager grinned. ‘That’s Jason saying “G’day”. He always does that when he’s taking a load of sheep to Perth. He does it when he comes back too so Kylie knows he’s safe.’

‘And no one’s ever asked him not to?’ Lucy’s adrenaline surge was fading, leaving her jittery and slightly on edge.

The girl looked at her as if she had two heads. ‘No. You get used to it when you—’

The gut-wrenching sound of the long screech of rubber against asphalt deafened all other noise, followed immediately by the chilling crunch of metal against metal.

Lucy ran. As her feet hit the pavement she looked left, but could only see heat haze shimmering on the road. Then she looked right and gagged. A jack-knifed truck lay on its side along with a four-deck trailer full of sheep. Sheep were everywhere—some standing, some bloodied and bleeding, but Lucy’s eyes passed over them as she saw the driver climbing out of the cabin. She ran to her car, picked up her medical bag and kept running.

When she reached the driver, he was walking in circles, his hands pulling at his hair and blood pouring down his face. ‘Jason? You need to sit down.’ Lucy took his arm and shepherded him toward the kerb, wanting to check his pupils for a concussion.

His unfocused gaze settled on her face. ‘She came from nowhere.’

Lucy didn’t know what he meant. ‘Who’s she?’

‘The other car.’

The other car? She spun around, her eyes searching beyond the truck and the bleating sheep.

‘Lucy!’ Deb, an off-duty nurse from the hospital, ran up to her breathless. ‘Geraldine Carter’s in the other car.’

Oh, God, she couldn’t even see another car and a thousand thoughts ran through her head. ‘Get Dr Rodriguez, ring the police, find someone to stay with Jason and then come and help me.’

As she ran, she heard the scream of sirens in the distance and gave thanks, knowing the police and local volunteer fire brigade would block off the road and sort out the sheep. She rounded the truck and braced herself for what she imagined would be horrific.

She breathed in hard to keep from retching.

What had once been a small hatch-back car was now smashed almost beyond recognition. The impact of the crash had flattened the passenger side of the car before pushing it off the road into the low stone fence of the community park. A woman was slumped forward over the steering wheel, deathly still.

Checking there were no power lines touching the car, Lucy gripped the car door handle and prayed it would open without needing the cutting skill of the ‘jaws of life’. She gave an almighty pull and felt some give so tugged again. Grudgingly, the door opened just enough for her to squeeze in. She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘Can you hear me?’

The woman didn’t move. What had Deb said her name was? ‘Geraldine, can you hear me?’ She heard a moan. ‘I’m Lucy and a doctor and I’m going to help you.’

Airway, breathing, circulation. Lucy pressed her fingers against the woman’s neck, feeling for the carotid pulse. Thready. Carefully, using her hands as a brace, she brought Geraldine’s head into a neutral line. She needed to apply a cervical collar, but to do that she needed to sit her upright. Ideally, it was a two-person job.

Hurry up, Marco.

Airway comes first. She knew she didn’t have time to wait, especially when she had no clue how far away help was from arriving. ‘Geraldine, I’m going to move—’

‘What’s her condition?’

Thank you. Lucy had never been so pleased to hear a Spanish accent in her life and she swivelled her head around in relief. Intelligent, dark brown eyes filled with a host of medical questions gazed at her, backlit with care and concern.

A odd, fleeting half-thought amidst the chaos of the moment made her wonder how it might feel to be the focus of that sort of caring.

She brushed it aside as completely irrelevant. ‘She’s conscious, although only just, and given her pulse rate, probably bleeding somewhere. We need to treat her as a possible spinal injury.’

Marco nodded and tugged on the door which shifted, giving them a bit more room, but they’d need a lot more to get Geraldine out of the car. He turned and yelled to the police sergeant, ‘Graham, we need this door off.’

‘On it.’

Lucy heard Graham on his two-way radio to the fire brigade and then Marco moved in next to her, filling the cramped space with his clean, fresh citrus scent and the welcome support of professional reinforcement. ‘Geraldine, this is Marco. We’re going to carefully sit you up and protect your neck.’

The woman groaned without forming any words.

Lucy continued in triage mode. ‘Marco, you support her mid-thorax and I’ll support her neck. On my count. One, two, three.’

They sat Geraldine up and then without being asked, Marco passed Lucy the cervical collar.

‘This will support your neck, Geraldine.’ She quickly wrapped it into position.

‘Lucy, take this.’

She turned and Marco held out the equipment she needed to attach Geraldine to the Propaq so they could monitor her vital signs. ‘Thanks.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll insert the IV.’

‘Sorry, Geraldine, but I have to rip your shirt.’ The woman’s eyes flickered open and shut again. Lucy tugged at the buttons on the blouse and they came open and she applied the patches to the woman’s skin. A moment later, the machine beeped into life. ‘BP’s low. Two lines would be good.’

‘Oxygen too.’ He shoved the green mask and plastic tubing into her hands and then he returned to his task, his forehead scored deep with worry lines. He quietly reassured a barely conscious Geraldine while his fingers moved up and down her arm seeking a viable vein. He tightened the tourniquet and tried again.

Lucy wanted to watch, wanted to will a vein to appear but she knew it wouldn’t help. Her job was to check Geraldine’s pupils’ reaction to light and hopefully rule out a head injury. They each did their job, working as a team and pooling their body of knowledge as they scrambled to stabilise their patient. They spoke few words, but the ones they voiced locked together to build a synchronicity that flowed between them.

‘IV is in.’

‘Great. Push fluids.’

Marco pumped in a litre of Hartmann’s through the hard-won IV line in a furious attempt to bring up Geraldine’s blood pressure.

Blocking out the bleating of sheep and all other extraneous noises, Lucy moved her stethoscope around Geraldine’s chest. The woman was taking short, shallow breaths and her pulse-ox numbers stayed low despite the help of the oxygen. ‘I think she’s got a tension pneumothorax.’

Marco’s frown deepened. He handed the bag of Hartmann’s to a bystander saying, ‘Hold it high.’

The young man nodded and did as he was asked while Marco passed gloves, antiseptic and a large bore needle to Lucy. ‘Needle decompression.’

Lucy snapped on the gloves and sloshed the brown antiseptic onto Geraldine’s skin. ‘Second intercostal space at the level of the angle of Louis.’

‘Sí. Then gentle traction on the plunger and checking for air bubbles.’

Lucy knew it all, but saying it out loud to a colleague and hearing confirmation always helped. ‘And then an immediate relief of symptoms.’

I hope. Her fingers located the position and she pressed the needle into place, praying the needle wouldn’t block. The beeping of the monitor faded.

‘Beuno, you’re in. Pulse-ox is rising now.’ The relief in Marco’s deep voice vibrated around them, matching her own. ‘Leave the needle open.’

‘Yep, had planned to.’ The rush of a good save flowed through her. Although Geraldine wasn’t out of the woods yet, at least they’d sorted out one big problem.

The sensation lasted ninety seconds.

The sharp and incessant beeping of the Propaq rose again, screaming at them as their patient’s heart rate soared and her blood pressure plummeted. For the briefest moment, Marco’s gaze met hers and she had an overwhelming moment of connection, unlike anything she’d ever experienced with a colleague.

Their words collided as they both yelled out in unison, ‘Jaws of life now!’

CHAPTER THREE

THE emergency helicopter banked and quickly headed south towards Perth, taking the deafening noise of the rotors with it, and exposing the continual bleating of injured and scared sheep. Marco ran his hand through his hair and glanced at Lucy. They’d worked side by side for over an hour and he still had the alluring scent of her perfume in his nostrils. Call him overtired, but he’d swear it was a combination of vanilla and liquorice. At first he’d breathed in deeply, using the scent as a shield when the smell of blood and fear had threatened to choke him. After that, he’d just wanted her scent—wanted it badly, like a smoker needed his next cigarette.

Lucy was staring down at her feet and her smooth and sleek hair fell forward across her cheeks like a curtain, masking her face and masking her emotions. Not that it mattered—even when he could see her expressions, he couldn’t work her out. Today, she’d been a totally different person from yesterday, running the emergency expertly and efficiently, and without any of the high drama and emotion that had been on display in the practice. She knew her medicine and he’d been grudgingly impressed. Given the difficult conditions, they’d worked together well, anticipating each other’s needs as if they’d worked together for years. All he had to do now was think of her in terms of a doctor rather than a woman and his life could return to normal. How hard could that be?

As if she could sense his gaze on her, she raised her head, tucked her hair behind her ears and attempted a smile, only the accompanying tension thwarted it. ‘It’s going to be touch and go, isn’t it?’

He nodded, sharing the exact same concerns for Geraldine. ‘It is, but together we’ve given her a chance. Thank goodness the accident happened in the town because otherwise …”

‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘She’d be dead like so many of these poor sheep.’

A team of farmers had arrived to tend to the injured sheep and a shot fired out, the first of many. Lucy flinched before giving a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Obviously I’ve been living the city-girl life for too long.’

He smiled wryly. ‘No one likes to see animals injured. Even the farmers are going to find this tough.’

‘True.’ She tilted her head as if she was sending some sort of non-verbal message to him.

He turned and saw small groups of people gathering, all edging towards them looking slightly stunned and shocked, and needing to talk about what had happened so they could absorb it and put it into perspective. His day, already late starting due to the emergency, just got even busier.

You’ve got a competent doctor standing in front of you so use her.

The thought of how he’d warned her off yesterday loomed large in his mind, but he could no longer deny the fact that he was exhausted and with this disaster he absolutely needed help.

‘Lucy.’ The rest of the sentence stuck in his throat.

‘Yes?’ She shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet as if she wanted to move away and move fast.

He swallowed and forced up the words. ‘Can you examine the driver of the truck for me, please, while I get started on the day’s work?’

Her chestnut brows rose to her hairline. ‘Are you sure you trust me in the clinic?’

He sighed, knowing he should have seen that coming. ‘Based on how you treated Geraldine, I trust your clinical skills implicitly. I appeal to your conscience and ethical standards that you respect the rules regarding confidentiality, and unless you have William’s written permission, you do not look at his file.’

He held his breath, half expecting her to hit him with an Australian expression that said he could damn well work on his own.

Her grey eyes flickered. ‘Fair enough.’

He blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

It was her turn to sigh. ‘Yesterday …” She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

Mesmerised, his gaze dropped, glued to her plump mouth and the flash of white against ruby-red. Heat socked him, rushing into every crevice and he instantly wondered if the visual lushness they promised would be matched by the touch of his lips against hers.

Now isn’t the best time for this.

Horrified that he was lusting after a colleague—especially after he’d just given a speech on professionalism—he dragged his eyes to her face and tried to remember what they were talking about. ‘You were saying?’

She cleared her throat. ‘Yesterday, I was a little bit … strung out. I haven’t seen William in a long time and…’

He thought about his ex-wife, about his parents and siblings and had a moment of understanding. ‘Family can make you crazy sometimes.’

‘You have no idea.’ She lifted her chin sharply in an increasingly familiar action and her hair fell back from her cheeks. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, yesterday you had a point.’

He couldn’t stop the triumphant smile racing across his face. ‘So, you are saying I was right?’

She crossed her arms, but a twitch of her lips softened the rebellious stance and her voice held a teasing air. ‘I could agree with you or I could help you out. You choose.’

An unexpected sense of lightness streaked in under the stress of the last hour, which was layered on top of the permanent tension of his life and his fears for Ignacio. He grinned, enjoying the banter and the fact that she’d made him laugh. His days were divided into being a doctor and being a father, but right now, in this moment he was Marco and that didn’t happen very often. ‘For now, I will take your help.’

‘Done.’ Lucy shielded her eyes and squinted up the street. ‘Looks like Deb’s got the driver in the ambulance so I’ll go with them to the hospital.’ With a quick wave she walked away, dodging stray sheep.

He should have turned and headed towards his car, but he stood watching the seductive swing of her hips and the way the material of her pants caressed the sweet curve of her behind. His fingers flexed into the same shape and his blood descended with a rush to his groin.

‘Marco. Dr Rodriguez?’

Through a fog of lust, he somehow recognised his name and he jerked his head around so hard that he heard a crunch. Emily Blair, a young mother from the primary school, stood staring at him with a slight frown on her face and a disposable coffee cup in her hand. She’d been very kind to him and Ignacio since their arrival, often bringing around food and inviting Ignacio on play dates. Marco knew Emily wanted more out of their friendship, but he didn’t want to offer her more. He didn’t want to offer any woman more because it was easier that way. No one got hurt.

‘Are you okay, Marco? You look a bit …”

Aroused. Turned on. Marco uttered a silent oath and tried to think cold and chilling thoughts. What was it about Lucy Patterson that had him acting like a teenage boy? He mentally started listing off all the bones in the body until his blood returned to his brain and common sense resumed.

Emily pushed the coffee toward him. ‘You don’t look your normal self, but it was a pretty horrible accident. I thought you might need some coffee.’

‘Gracias. This is very thoughtful of you.’ He accepted the cup being careful not to brush her hand with his.

‘Do you need to talk about it?’

Her hopeful expression made him feel like a jerk. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot stay and talk. I need to get back to the clinic because I have patients waiting.’ He started to back away and raised the coffee in a salute. ‘Thank you again, Emily.’

He turned before he saw disappointment line her face.

Three hours later, Marco couldn’t quite believe that he was standing in an empty waiting room. He leaned against the counter and spoke to Lisa, the clinic’s friendly receptionist. ‘I thought there must be something wrong with the computer. There must be more people to see me, no?’

Lisa shook her head with a smile. ‘Not until afternoon clinic starts at two. Don’t look so worried. For once you get a lunch break.’

Yet, based on his patient load over the last few weeks, none of this made sense. ‘But I started late and—’

‘Didn’t Sue tell you?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘Lucy Patterson’s been seeing patients all morning.’

As if on cue, he heard Lucy’s musical voice drifting down the corridor saying, ‘Make an appointment with Dr Rodriguez for Friday and by then your blood test results will be back. Meanwhile, David, the most important thing for you is to get some rest.’

A moment later David Saunders appeared at the desk and Marco turned, walking directly to William’s consulting room. Lucy was reaching over the examination table, stripping it of linen and his gaze immediately zeroed in on her bottom. ‘You—’ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. ‘You stayed?’

She straightened up, tossing the sheet into the skip. ‘I did.’ She flicked out a clean sheet and shot him a smile. ‘I had to hang around for Jason’s head injury checks so I had the choice of catching up on all the celebrity gossip from last year’s magazines or helping you out with your morning list. Didn’t Sue tell you?’

Her smile was doing odd things to his breathing and his pulse. He swallowed before managing to say, ‘No.’

A single line appeared between her brows. ‘Was it the wrong thing to do? I thought you wanted my help?’

He realised between his confusion at learning she was still here and his body’s lust-fest with her cute behind, he was frowning at her. He made himself smile. ‘Sí, I did want your help for the truck driver, but I did not expect you to do more. Thank you. It was very generous of you to stay.’

She shrugged as she smoothed down the paper-protector over the sheet. ‘Not really.’

This woman was a mass of contradictions and just like yesterday evening, he was immediately back to not understanding her. ‘But you came to Bulla Creek to spend your time with William, not to work here.’

She briskly tucked her hair behind her ear, the action defensive. ‘Really, it’s not a problem. I was happy to help.’

And he was very appreciative of it. Appreciative of her. Remembering Lisa’s words about a real lunch break, he said, ‘Can I buy you lunch to thank you?’

‘Oh, God, lunch.’ Her pupils dilated so wide they almost obliterated the grey, and her hand flew to her mouth as if he’d just suggested something completely inappropriate.

Hell, had she noticed him staring at her behind?

No, she had her back to you.

He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if being off the dating scene for seven years and only having one night stands had affected his judgement. ‘Inviting you to lunch, this was the wrong thing to say?’

‘No. It was totally the right thing to say.’ She picked up her bag, grabbed his arm, and started pulling him toward the door. ‘I’m starving. Let’s eat right now.’

The delicious warmth of her hand seeped into him and immediately combined with her enthralling scent. He knew he should resist the tug of that intoxicating pleasure which pooled inside him and that he should press his feet to the floor and refuse to follow her. He knew without a doubt he should pause and question her on why one minute she was horrified by a simple lunch invitation and the next minute she was crazily overenthusiastic.

Knowing and doing were two separate things and he ignored common sense, letting the river of desire that burned in him rule. He allowed himself be led out of the clinic and marched up the street like a teenage boy in lust for the very first time.

The Shearer’s Arms was the oldest building in town, pre-dating the church by a good ten years. A large, rectangular, whitewashed building, it stood at the top end of Main Street with its distinctive red corrugated-iron veranda. Large tables sat under its shade and the regulars could sit and catch the passing breeze while keeping their eye on the activities of the town.

By the time they reached the door, Marco had regained his composure and was determined to reclaim control as the host of the lunch. As he reached for the door handle ahead of Lucy so he could usher her inside, she stopped abruptly and stood staring at the door. ‘Are you okay?’ She looked as if her thoughts were miles away and she didn’t respond. ‘Lucy?’

A slight tremor flicked across her shoulders and she gave him a brittle smile. ‘Let’s go in, shall we?’

He tilted his head and smiled. ‘That was my plan.’

He’d expected a laugh, but if anything she seemed even tenser as she ducked under his arm and walked straight past the sign that said, ‘Please wait to be seated.’

This wasn’t going quite as he’d planned. ‘Lucy.’

She didn’t slow or turn.

‘Dr Patterson.’

Not even the use of her professional name made her pause. Irritation rolled through him like the prickle of a burr. Silently rebuking himself on letting his body overrule his brain, and regretting having issued the lunch invitation, he reluctantly followed her to the furthest corner of the dining room, feeling like a consort trailing behind a queen.

She disappeared behind a partition and he heard her say, ‘Sorry we’re late.’

Late? He rounded the faux-wood panel and came face to face with William.

The elder doctor leaned against his stick and for the briefest moment confusion flitted across his face, followed by regret. Both were instantly replaced by a polite smile, which looked like it needed the muscles to haul really hard to raise the corners of his mouth. He extended his hand and in a voice that was neither friendly nor unfriendly said, ‘Marco.’

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