From as soon as MELANIE MILBURNE could pick up a pen she knew she wanted to write. It was when she picked up her first Mills & Boon® at seventeen that she realised she wanted to write romance. After being distracted for a few years by meeting and marrying her own handsome hero, surgeon husband Steve, and having two boys, plus completing a Masters of Education and becoming a nationally ranked athlete (masters swimming), she decided to write. Five submissions later she sold her first book and is now a multi-published, bestselling, award-winning USA Today author. In 2008 she won the Australian Readers’ Association most popular category/series romance, and in 2011 she won the prestigious Romance Writers of Australia R*BY award.

Melanie loves to hear from her readers via her website, www.melaniemilburne.com.au, or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/melanie.milburne

Dear Reader

I love fish-out-of-water stories, where a character—usually the heroine!—is thrown into a situation or environment that is totally foreign to her. Like me right now! I am writing this on a four-wheel drive tour bus in The Kimberleys in Western Australia. The heat is intense, but the scenery and the small friendly communities we’ve travelled through are wonderful examples of the wild frontier of the Outback and the larger-than-life people who make it so special.

Lady Isabella (Izzy) Courtney has taken a four-week posting to Jerringa Ridge after the end of her four-year engagement. She’s not looking for love, but Cupid has other plans.

Sergeant Zach Fletcher is the local cop, who also has a broken relationship behind him and has no interest in anything right now but helping his dad get back on his feet after a quad bike accident. But of course when Zach meets Izzy everything changes—for both of them.

They both learn—as I too have learnt over the years—that it doesn’t matter where you live, as long as the one you love is with you.

I hope you enjoy Zach and Izzy’s story.

Warmest wishes

Melanie Milburne

Flirting with

the Socialite Doc

Melanie Milburne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEDICATION

To Alan and Sue Beswick for their continued support of the Heart Foundation in Tasmania.

This one is for you. At last! XX

Praise for
Melanie Milburne:

‘A tale of new beginnings, redemption and hope that will make readers chuckle as well as wipe away a tear. A compelling medical drama about letting go of the past and seizing the day, it is fast-paced and sparkles with mesmerising emotion and intense passion.’

—Goodreads.com on THEIR MOST FORBIDDEN FLING

Recent titles by Melanie Milburne:

DR CHANDLER’S SLEEPING BEAUTY

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LEXI’S SECRET* THE SURGEON SHE NEVER FORGOT THE MAN WITH THE LOCKED AWAY HEART

* Sydney Harbour Hospital

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

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER ONE

EVEN THE DISTANCE of more than seventeen thousand kilometres that Izzy had put between herself and her best friend was not going to stop another Embarrassing Birthday Episode from occurring.

Oh, joy.

‘I’ve got the perfect present winging its way to you,’ Hannah crowed over the phone from London. ‘You’re going to get the biggest surprise. Be prepared. Be very prepared.’

Izzy gave a mental groan. Her closest friend from medical school had a rather annoying habit of choosing the most inappropriate and, on occasion, excruciatingly embarrassing birthday gifts. ‘I know you think I’m an uptight prude but do you have to rub my nose in it every year? I’m still blushing from that grotesque sex toy you gave me last year.’

Hannah laughed. ‘This is so much better. And it will make you feel a little less lonely. So how are you settling in? What’s it like out there?’

‘Out there’ was Jerringa Ridge and about as far away from Izzy’s life back in England as it could be, hot and dry with sunlight that wasn’t just bright but violent. Unlike other parts of New South Wales, which had suffered unusually high levels of flooding, it hadn’t rained, or at least with any significance, in this district for months.

And it looked like it.

A rust-red dust cloud had followed her into town like a dervish and left a fine layer over her car, her clothes, and had somehow even got into the small cottage she’d been assigned for her four-week locum.

‘It’s hot. I swear I got sunburnt walking from the car to the front door.’ Izzy glanced down at the tiny white circle on her finger where her engagement ring had been for the last four years. Not sunburnt enough.

‘Have you met any of the locals yet?’

‘Just a couple of people so far,’ Izzy said. ‘The clinic receptionist, Margie Green, seems very nice, very motherly. She made sure the cottage was all set up for me with the basics. There’s a general store run by a husband and wife team—Jim and Meg Collis—who are very friendly too. And the guy who owns and operates the local pub—I think his name is Mike something or other—has organised a welcome-drink-cum-party for me for tomorrow night. Apparently the locals grab at any excuse to party so I didn’t like to say I’d prefer to lie low and find my feet first.’

‘Perfect timing,’ Hannah said. ‘At least you won’t be on your own on your birthday.’

On your own...

Izzy was still getting used to being single. She’d become so used to fitting in with Richard Remington’s life—his meticulously planned life—that it was taking her a little while to adjust. The irony was she had been the one to end things. Not that he’d been completely devastated or anything. He’d moved on astonishingly quickly and was now living with a girl ten years younger than he was who had been casually employed to hand around drinks at one of his parents’ soirees—another irony, as he had been so adamant about not moving in with Izzy while they’d been together.

This four weeks out at Jerringa Ridge—the first of six one-month locums she had organised in Australia—would give her the space to stretch her cramped wings, to finally fly free from the trappings and expectations of her aristocratic background.

Out here she wasn’t Lady Isabella Courtney with a pedigree that went back hundreds of years.

She was just another GP, doing her bit for the Outback.

* * *

‘Have you met the new doctor yet?’ Jim Collis asked, as Zach Fletcher came into the general store to pick up some supplies the following day.

‘Not yet.’ Zach picked up a carton of milk and checked the use-by date. ‘What’s he like?’

‘She.’

He turned from the refrigerated compartment with raised brows. ‘No kidding?’

‘You got something against women doctors?’ Jim asked.

‘Of course not. I just thought a guy had taken the post. I’m sure that’s what William Sawyer said before he went on leave.’

‘Yeah, well, it seems that one fell through,’ Jim said. ‘Dr Courtney stepped into the breach at the last minute. She’s from England. Got an accent like cut glass.’

Zach grunted as he reached for his wallet. ‘Hope she knows what she’s in for.’

Jim took the money and put it in the till. ‘Mike’s putting on a welcome do for her tonight at the pub. You coming?’

‘I’m on duty.’

‘Doesn’t mean you can’t pop in and say g’day.’

‘I’d hate to spoil the party by showing up in uniform,’ Zach said.

‘I don’t know...’ Jim gave him a crooked grin. ‘Some women really get off on a guy in uniform. You could get lucky, Fletch. Be about time. How long’s it been?’

Zach gave him a look as he stuffed his wallet in his back pocket. ‘Not interested.’

‘You’re starting to sound like your old man,’ Jim said. ‘How is he? You haven’t brought him into town for a while.’

‘He’s doing OK.’

Jim gave him a searching look. ‘Sure?’

Zach steeled his gaze. ‘Sure.’

‘Tell him we’re thinking of him.’

‘Will do.’ Zach turned to leave.

‘Her name is Isabella Courtney,’ Jim said. ‘Got a nice figure on her and pretty too, in a girl-next-door sort of way.’

‘Give it a break, Jim.’

‘I’m just saying...’

‘The tyres on your ute are bald.’ Zach gave him another hardened look as he shouldered open the door. ‘Change them or I’ll book you.’

* * *

Zach’s father Doug was sitting out on the veranda of Fletcher Downs homestead; the walking frame that had been his constant companion for the last eighteen months by his side. A quad-bike accident had left Doug Fletcher with limited use of his legs. It would have been a disaster for any person, but for a man who only knew how to work and live on the land it was devastating.

Seeing his strong and extremely physically active father struck down in such a way had been bad enough, but the last couple of months his dad had slipped into a funk of depression that made every day a nightmare of anguish for Zach. Every time he drove up the long drive to the homestead his heart rate would escalate in panic in case his dad had done something drastic in his absence, and it wouldn’t slow down again until he knew his father had managed to drag himself through another day.

Popeye, the toy poodle, left his father’s side to greet Zach with a volley of excited yapping. In spite of everything, he couldn’t help smiling at the little mutt. ‘Hey, little buddy.’ He crouched down and tickled the little dog’s soot-black fleecy ears. He’d chosen the dog at a rescue shelter in Sydney when he’d gone to bring his dad home from the rehabilitation centre. Well, really, it had been the other way around. Popeye had chosen him. Zach had intended to get a man’s dog, a kelpie or a collie, maybe even a German shepherd like the one he’d worked with in the drug squad, but somehow the little black button eyes had looked at him unblinkingly as if to say, Pick me!

‘Jim says hello,’ Zach said to his father as he stepped into the shade of the veranda.

His father acknowledged the comment with a grunt as he continued to stare out at the parched paddocks, which instead of being lime green with fresh growth were the depressing colour of overripe pears.

‘There’s a new doctor in town—a woman.’ Zach idly kicked a stray pebble off the floorboards of the veranda into the makeshift garden below. It had been a long time since flowers had grown there. Twenty-three years, to be exact. His English born and bred mother had attempted to grow a cottage garden similar to the one she had left behind on her family’s country estate in Surrey, but, like her, none of the plants had flourished in the harsh conditions of the Outback.

‘You met her?’ His father’s tone was flat, as if he didn’t care one way or the other, but at least he had responded. That meant it was a good day. A better day.

‘Not yet,’ Zach said. ‘I’m on duty this evening. I’m covering for Rob. I thought I’d ask Margie to come over and sit with—’

Doug’s mouth flattened. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need a bloody babysitter?’

‘You hardly see any of your old mates these days. Surely a quiet drink with—’

‘I don’t want people crying and wringing their hands and feeling sorry for me.’ Doug pulled himself to his feet and reached for his walker. ‘I’ll see people when I can drive into town and walk into the pub on my own.’

Zach watched as his father shuffled back down the other end of the veranda to the French doors that led to his bedroom. The lace curtains billowed out like a ghostly wraith as the hot, dry northerly wind came through, before the doors closed with a rattling snap that made every weatherboard on the old house creak in protest.

These days it seemed every conversation he had with his dad ended in an argument. Moving back home after five years of living in the city had seemed the right idea at the time, but now he wondered if it had made things worse. It had changed their relationship too much. He’d always planned to come back to the country and run Fletcher Downs once his father was ready to retire, but the accident had thrown everything out of order. This far out in the bush it was hard to get carers to visit, let alone move in, and without daily support his father would have no choice but to move off the property that had been in the family for seven generations.

The day Zach’s mother had left had broken his father’s heart; leaving Fletcher Downs before his time would rip it right out of his chest.

Popeye gave a little whine at Zach’s feet. He bent back down and the dog leapt up into his arms and proceeded to anoint his face with a frenzy of enthusiastic licks. He hugged the dog against his chest as he looked at the sunburnt paddocks. ‘We’ll get him through this, Popeye. I swear to God we will.’

* * *

The Drover’s Rest was nothing like the pubs at home but the warm welcome Izzy received more than made up for it. Mike Grantham, the proprietor, made sure she had a drink in her hand and then introduced her to everyone who came in the door. She had trouble remembering all of their names, but she was sure it wouldn’t be too long before she got to know them, as she was the only doctor serving the area, which encompassed over two hundred and fifty square kilometres.

Once everyone was inside the main room of the pub Mike tapped on a glass to get everyone’s attention. ‘A little bird told me it’s Dr Courtney’s birthday today, so let’s give her a big Jerringa Ridge welcome.’

The room erupted into applause and a loud and slightly off-key singing of ‘Happy Birthday’ as two of the local ladies came out with a cake they had made, complete with candles and Izzy’s name piped in icing over the top.

‘How did you know it was my birthday?’ Izzy asked Mike, once she’d blown out the candles.

‘I got a call yesterday,’ he said. ‘A friend of yours from the old country. She gave me the heads up. Said she had a surprise lined up. It should be here any minute now. Why don’t you go and wait by the door? Hey, clear a pathway! Let the doc get through.’

Izzy felt her face grow warm as she made her way through the smiling crowd of locals to the front door of the pub. Why couldn’t Hannah send her flowers or chocolate or champagne, like normal people did?

And then she saw it.

Not it—him.

Tall. Muscled. Toned. Buffed. Clean-shaven. A jaw strong and square and determined enough to land a fighter jet on. A don’t-mess-with-me air that was like an invisible wall of glass around him. Piercing eyes that dared you to outstare him.

A male stripper.

Dressed as a cop.

I’m going to kill you, Hannah.

Izzy went into damage control. The last thing she wanted was her reputation ruined before she saw her first patient. She could fix this. It would be simple. Just because Hannah had paid the guy—the rather gorgeous hot guy—to come out all this way and strip for her, it didn’t mean she had to let him go through with it.

As long as he got his money, right?

‘I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan,’ she said, before the man could put a foot inside the pub. ‘I won’t be needing your...er...services after all.’

The man—who had rather unusual grey-blue eyes—looked down at her from his far superior height. ‘Excuse me?’

Izzy had to speak in a hushed tone as she could feel the crowd starting to gather behind her. ‘Please, will you just leave? I don’t want you here. It will spoil everything for me.’

One of the man’s eyebrows lifted quizzically. ‘Let me get this straight...you don’t want me to step inside the pub?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’ Izzy adopted an adamant stance by planting her hands on her hips. ‘And I strictly forbid you to remove any of your clothes in my presence. Do you understand?’

Something in those eyes glinted but the rest of his expression was still deadpan. ‘How about if I take off my hat?’

She let out a breath and dropped her arms back by her sides, clenching her hands to keep some semblance of control. She had to get rid of him. Now. ‘Are you listening to me? I don’t want you here.’

‘Last time I looked it was a free country.’

Izzy glowered at him. ‘Look, I know you get paid to do this sort of stuff, but surely you can do much better? Don’t you find this horribly demeaning, strutting around at parties, titillating tipsy women in a leather thong or whatever it is you get down to? Why don’t you go out and get a real job?’

‘I love my job.’ The glint in his eyes made its brief appearance again. ‘I’ve wanted to do it since I was four years old.’

‘Then go and do your job someplace else,’ she said from behind gritted teeth. ‘If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the police.’

‘He is the police,’ Mike called out from behind the bar.

CHAPTER TWO

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

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

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

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

‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

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

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

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

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

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

Cool it, mate.

Not your type.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

And how would she face him again?

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

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

Idiot.

Fool.

Imbecile.

How could you possibly think he was—?

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

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

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

‘That’s...um, nice.’

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

Izzy frowned. ‘Left?’

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

‘The accident?’

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

‘That’s very sad.’

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

‘I like walking.’

‘It’s not safe to do it on your own.’

‘But it’s so quiet out here.’

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

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

‘Do you have a car?’

‘Of course.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence prickled like static electricity.

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

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

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

‘Once a week.’

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

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

‘Fine.’

Another silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

For an infinitesimal moment her gaze meshed with his.

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

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

Time froze.

The air tightened. Pulsed. Vibrated.

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’m sorry.’

Margie shrugged.

‘Did you have children?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Um...not right now.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I bet I’m not his either.

CHAPTER THREE

ZACH HAD BEEN at the homestead long enough to change out of his uniform, make his father a cup of tea, and take Popeye for a walk down to the dam and back when he saw Isabella Courtney coming up the driveway.

He waved a fly away from his face as he watched her handle the corrugations of the gravel driveway that was as long as some city streets. A dust cloud plumed out in her wake and a flock of sulphur-crested white cockatoos and salmon-pink corellas flew out of the gum trees that lined the driveway before settling in another copse of trees closer to the dam. The chorus of cicadas was loud in the oven-warm air and in the distance the grey kangaroo he’d rescued as a joey, and who now had a joey of her own, hopped towards a few tufts of grass that had pushed up through the parched ground around the home paddock’s water trough.

Popeye gave a whine and looked up at Zach as his body did its little happy dance at the thought of a visitor. ‘Cool it, buddy,’ Zach said. ‘She’s not staying long.’

It was hard to ignore the stirring of male hormones in his body as he watched her alight from the car. She had a natural grace about her, lissom and lithe, like a ballerina or yoga enthusiast. She wasn’t particularly tall, or at least not compared to him at six feet three in bare feet. She was about five-six or -seven with a waist he could probably span with his hands, and her features were classically beautiful but in a rather understated way. She wore little or no make-up and her mid-length chestnut hair was tied back in a ponytail she had wound around itself in a casual knot, giving her a fresh, youthful look.

But it was her mouth his gaze kept tracking to. It was soft and full and had an upward curve that made it look like she was always on the brink of smiling.

* * *

‘Oh, what an adorable dog!’ Her smile lit up her brown eyes so much that they sparkled as she bent down to greet Popeye. ‘Oh, you darling little poppet. Who’s a good boy? Hang on a minute—are you a boy? Oh, yes, you are, you sweet little thing. Yes, I love you too.’ She laughed a tinkling-bell laugh and stood up again, her smile still stunningly bright as she stood and faced Zach. ‘Is he yours?’

Zach had to take a moment to gather himself after being on the receiving end of that dazzling smile.

Earth to Zach. Do you read me?

He wondered if he should fob Popeye off as his father’s but he had a feeling she wouldn’t buy it for a moment. ‘Yes.’

She angled her head at him in an appraising manner. ‘Funny, I had you picked as a collie or kelpie man, or maybe a German shepherd or Doberman guy.’

He kept his expression blank. ‘The station manager has working dogs. Popeye’s just a pet.’

She brushed a tendril of hair away from her face that the light breeze had worked loose. ‘This is a lovely property. I couldn’t believe how many birds I saw coming up the driveway.’

‘You’re not seeing it at its best. We need rain.’

She scanned the paddocks with one of her hands shading her eyes against the sun. ‘It’s still beautiful— Oh, there’s a kangaroo and it’s got a joey! He just popped his head out. How gorgeous!’

‘That’s Annie,’ Zach said.

She swung around to look at him again. ‘Is she a pet too?’

‘Not really.’ He waved another fly away from his face. ‘Her mother was killed on the highway. I reared her by hand and released her back into the wild a few years ago, but she hangs about a bit, mostly because of the drought.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘You reared her yourself?’

‘Yeah.’

Her pretty little nose was wrinkled over the bridge from her small frown. ‘Like with a bottle or something?’

‘Yep. Six feeds a day.’

‘How did you juggle that with work?’

‘I took her with me in a pillowcase.’

She blinked a couple of times as if she couldn’t quite imagine him playing wet-nurse. ‘That’s...amazing...’ She looked back at the paddock where Annie was grazing. ‘It must be wonderful to have all this space to yourself. To be this close to wildlife and to breathe in such fresh air instead of pollution.’

Zach saw her finely shaped nostrils widen to take in the eucalyptus scent of the bush. He picked up a faint trace of her fragrance in the air: a flowery mix that was redolent of gardenias and vanilla. The sun caught the golden highlights in her hair and he found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through those glossy, silky strands.

Get a grip.

He thrust his hands in his pockets, out of the way of temptation. She was a blow-in and would be gone before the first dust storm hit town. His track record with keeping women around wasn’t flash. His mother had whinged and whined and then withdrawn into herself for ten years before she’d finally bolted and never returned. His fiancée hadn’t even got as far as the Outback before the call of the city had drawn her back. Why would Isabella Courtney with her high-class upbringing have anything to offer him?

She turned back to look at him and a slight blush bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I guess I should get on with why I came here. Is your father inside?’

‘Yes. Come this way.’

* * *

Izzy stepped into the cool interior of the homestead but it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior after the assault of the bright sunlight outside. A man who was an older version of Zach sat in an armchair in the sitting room off the long, wide hallway; a walking frame was positioned nearby. He had steel-grey hair at his temples and his skin was weathered by long periods in the sun but he was still a fine-looking man. He had the same aura of self-containment his son possessed, and a strong uncompromising jaw, although his cheeks were hollowed by recent weight loss. His mouth had a downward turn and his blue eyes had damson-coloured shadows beneath them, as if he had trouble sleeping.

‘Dad, Dr Courtney is here,’ Zach said.

‘Hello, Mr Fletcher.’ Izzy held out her hand but dropped it back by her side when Doug Fletcher rudely ignored it.

He turned his steely gaze to his son. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was a bloody Pom?’

Zach tightened his mouth. ‘Because it has nothing to do with her ability as a medical practitioner.’

‘I don’t want any toffee-nosed Poms darkening my doorstep ever again. Do you hear me? Get her out of here.’

‘Mr Fletcher, I—’

‘You need to have regular check-ups and Dr Courtney is the only doctor in the region,’ Zach said. ‘You either see her or you see no one. I’m not driving three hundred kilometres each way to have your blood pressure checked every week.’

‘My blood pressure was fine until you brought her here!’ Doug snapped.

Izzy put a hand on Zach’s arm. ‘It’s all right, Sergeant Fletcher. I’ll come back some other time.’

Doug glared at her. ‘You’ll be trespassing if you do.’

‘Well, at least the cops won’t be far away to charge me, will they?’ she said.

Doug’s expression was as dark as thunder as he shuffled past them to exit the room. Izzy heard Zach release a long breath and turned to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I handled that very well.’

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles. ‘You’d think after twenty-three years he’d give it a break, wouldn’t you?’

‘Is that how long it’s been since your mother left?’

He gave her a grim look. ‘Yeah. I guess you twigged she was English.’

‘Peggy McLeod told me.’

He walked over to the open fireplace and kicked a gum nut back into the grate. His back and shoulders were so tense Izzy could see each muscle outlined by his close-fitting T-shirt. He rubbed the back of his neck before he turned back around to face her. ‘I’m worried about him.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I mean really worried.’

Izzy saw the haunted shadows in his eyes. ‘You think he’s depressed?’

‘Let’s put it this way, I don’t leave him alone for long periods. And I’ve taken all the guns over to a friend’s place.’

She felt her heart tighten at the thought of him having to keep a step ahead of his father all the time. The pressure on the loved ones of people struggling with depression was enormous. And Zach seemed to be doing it solo. ‘Has his mood dropped recently or has he been feeling low for a while?’

‘It’s been going down progressively since he came out of rehab.’ He let out another breath as he dragged his hand over his face. ‘Each day I seem to lose a little bit more of him.’

Izzy could just imagine the toll it was taking on him. He had so many responsibilities to shoulder, running his father’s property as well as his career as a cop. ‘Would he see someone in Sydney if I set up an appointment? I know it’s a long trip but surely it would be worth it to get him the help he needs.’

‘He won’t go back to the city, not after spending three months in hospital. He won’t even go as far as Bourke.’

‘Does he have any friends who could spend time with him?’ she asked. ‘It might help lift his mood to be more active socially.’

The look he threw her was derisive. ‘My father is not the tea-party type.’

‘What about Margie Green?’

His brows came together. ‘What about her?’

‘She’s a close friend, isn’t she? Or she was in the old days before your parents got together.’

His expression was guarded now; the drawbridge had come up again. ‘You seem to have gained a lot of inside information for the short time you’ve been in town.’

Izzy compressed her lips. ‘I can’t help it if people tell me stuff. I can assure you I don’t go looking for it.’

He curled his lip in a mocking manner. ‘I bet you don’t.’

She picked up her doctor’s bag from the floor with brisk efficiency. ‘I think it’s time I left. I’ve clearly outstayed my welcome.’

Izzy had marched to the front door before he caught up with her. ‘Dr Courtney.’ It was a command, not a request or even an apology. She drew in a tight breath and turned to face him. His expression still had that reserved unreadable quality to it but something about his eyes made her think he was not so much angry at her as at the situation he found himself in.

‘Yes?’

He held her gaze for a long moment without speaking. It was as if he was searching through a filing drawer in his brain for the right words.

‘Yes?’ Izzy prompted.

‘Don’t give up on him.’ He did that hair-scrape thing again. ‘He needs time.’

‘Will four weeks be long enough, do you think?’ she asked.

He gave her another measured look before he opened the screen door for her. ‘Let’s hope so.’

* * *

‘So, what did you call your new boyfriend I sent you?’ Hannah asked when she video-messaged Izzy a couple of nights later.

Izzy looked at the blow-up male doll she had propped up in one of the armchairs in the sitting room. ‘I’ve called him Max. He’s surprisingly good company for a man. He doesn’t hog the remote control and he doesn’t eat all the chocolate biscuits.’

Hannah giggled. ‘Have you slept with him?’

Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘Ha-ha. I’m enjoying having the bed to myself, thank you very much.’

‘So, no hot guys out in the bush?’

She hoped the webcam wasn’t picking up the colour of her warm cheeks. She hadn’t told Hannah about her case of mistaken identity with Zach Fletcher. She wasn’t sure why. Normally she told Hannah everything that was going on in her life...well, maybe not everything. She had never been the type of girl to tell all about dates and boyfriends. There were some things she liked to keep private. ‘I’m supposed to be using this time to sort myself out in the love department. I don’t want to complicate my recovery by diving head first into another relationship.’

‘You weren’t in love with Richard, Izzy. You know you weren’t. You were just doing what your parents expected of you. He filled the hole in your life after Jamie died. I’m glad you saw sense in time. Don’t get me wrong—I really like Richard but he’s not the one for you.’

Izzy knew what Hannah said was true. She had let things drift along for too long, raising everyone’s hopes and expectations in the process. Her parents were still a little touchy on the subject of her split with Richard, whom they saw as the ideal son-in-law. The stand-in son for the one they had lost after a long and agonising battle with sarcoma.

Her decision to come out to the Australian Outback on a working holiday had been part of her strategy to take more control over her life. It was a way to remind her family that she was serious about her career. They still thought she was just dabbling at medicine until it was time to settle down and have a couple of children to carry on the long line of Courtney blood now that her older brother Jamie wasn’t around to do it.

But she loved being a doctor. She loved it that she could help people in such a powerful way. Not just healing illnesses but changing lives, even saving them on occasion.

Like Jamie might have been saved if he had been diagnosed earlier...

Thinking about her brother made her heart feel like it had been stabbed. It actually seemed to jerk in her chest every time his name was mentioned, as if it were trying to escape the lunge of the sword of memory.

‘Maybe you’ll meet some rich cattleman out there and fall madly in love and never come home again, other than for visits,’ Hannah said.

‘I don’t think that’s likely.’ Izzy couldn’t imagine leaving England permanently. Her roots went down too deep. She even loved the capricious weather.

No, this trip out here was timely but not permanent.

Besides, with Jamie gone she was her parents’ only child and heir. Not going home to claim her birthright would be unthinkable. She just needed a few months to let them get used to the idea of her living her own life and following her own dreams, instead of living vicariously through theirs.

Izzy’s phone buzzed where it was plugged into the charger on the kitchen bench. ‘Got to go, Han. I think that’s a local call coming through. I’ll call you in a day or two. Bye.’ She picked up her phone. ‘Isabella Courtney.’

‘Zach Fletcher here.’ Even the way he said his name was sharp and to the point.

‘Good evening, Sergeant,’ Izzy said, just as crisply. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I just got a call about an accident out by the Honeywells’ place. It doesn’t sound serious but I thought you should come out with me to check on the driver. The volunteer ambos are on their way. I can be at your place in two minutes. It will save you having to find your way out there in the dark.’

‘Fine. I’ll wait at the front for you.’

Izzy had her doctor’s bag at the ready when Zach pulled up outside her cottage. She got into the car and clipped on her seat belt, far more conscious than she wanted to be of him sitting behind the wheel with one of those unreadable expressions on his face.

Would it hurt him to crack a smile?

Say a polite hello?

Make a comment on the weather?

‘Do you know who’s had the accident?’ she asked.

‘Damien Redbank.’ He gunned the engine once he turned onto the highway and Izzy’s spine slammed back against the seat. ‘His father Charles is a big property owner out here. Loads of money, short on common sense, if you get my drift.’

Izzy sent him a glance. ‘The son or the father?’

The top edge of his mouth curled upwards but it wasn’t anywhere near a smile. ‘The kid’s all right. Just needs to grow up.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Eighteen and a train wreck waiting to happen.’

‘What about his mother?’

‘His parents are divorced. Vanessa Redbank remarried a few years ago.’ He waited a beat before adding, ‘She has a new family now.’

Izzy glanced at him again. His mouth had tightened into its default position of grim. ‘Does Damien see his mother?’

‘Occasionally.’

Occasionally probably wasn’t good enough, Izzy thought. ‘Where does she live?’

‘Melbourne.’

‘At least it’s not the other side of the world.’ She bit her lip and wished she hadn’t spoken her thoughts out loud. ‘I’m sorry...I hope I didn’t offend you.’

He gave her a quick glance. ‘Offend me how?’

Izzy tried to read his look but the mask was firmly back in place. ‘It must have been really tough on you when your mother left. England is a long way away from here. It feels like everywhere is a long way away from here. It would’ve seemed even longer to a young child.’

‘I wasn’t a young child. I was ten.’ His voice was stripped bare of emotion; as if he was reading from a script and not speaking from personal experience. ‘Plenty old enough to take care of myself.’

Izzy could imagine him watching as his mother had driven away from the property for the last time. His face blank, his spine and shoulders stoically braced, while no doubt inside him a tsunami of emotion had been roiling. Had his father comforted him or had he been too consumed by his own devastation over the breakdown of his marriage? No wonder Zach had an aura of unreachability about him. It was a circle of deep loneliness that kept him apart from others. He didn’t want to need people so he kept well back from them.

Unlike her, who felt totally crushed if everyone didn’t take an instant shine to her. Doing and saying the right thing—people-pleasing—had been the script she had been handed from the cradle. It was only now that she had stepped off the stage, so to speak, that she could see how terribly lonely and isolated she had felt.

Still felt...

When had she not felt lonely? Being sent to boarding school hadn’t helped. She had wanted to go to a day school close to home but her protests had been ignored. All Courtneys went to boarding school. It was a tradition that went back generations. It was what the aristocracy did. But Izzy had been too bookish and too shy to be the most popular girl. Not athletic enough to be chosen first, let alone be appointed the captain of any of the sporting teams. Too keen to please her teachers, which hadn’t won her any friends. Too frightened to do the wrong thing in case she was made a spectacle of in front of the whole school. Until she’d met Hannah a couple of years later, her life had been terrifyingly, achingly lonely.

* * *

‘When I was ten I still couldn’t go to sleep unless all of my Barbie dolls were lined up in bed with me in exactly the right order.’ Why are you telling him this stuff? ‘I’ve still got them. Not with me, of course.’

Zach’s gaze touched hers briefly. It was the first time she had seen a hint of a smile dare to come anywhere near the vicinity of his mouth. But just as soon as it appeared it vanished. He turned his attention back to the grey ribbon of road in front of them where in the distance Izzy could see the shape of a car wedged at a steep angle against the bank running alongside the road. Another car had pulled up alongside, presumably the person who had called for help.

‘Damien’s father’s not going to be too happy about this,’ Zach said. ‘He’s only had that car a couple of weeks.’

‘But surely he’ll be more concerned about his son?’ Izzy said. ‘Cars can be replaced. People can’t.’

The line of his mouth tilted in a cynical manner as he killed the engine. ‘Try telling Damien’s mother that.’

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN IZZY GOT to the car the young driver was sitting on the roadside, holding his right arm against his chest. ‘Damien? Hi, I’m Isabella Courtney, the new locum doctor in town. I’m going to check you over. Is that OK?’

Damien gave her a belligerent look. ‘I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor. And before you ask—’ he sent Zach a glance ‘—no, I wasn’t drinking.’

‘I still have to do a breathalyser on you, mate,’ Zach said. ‘It’s regulation when there’s been an accident.’

‘A stupid wombat was in the middle of the road,’ Damien said. ‘I had to swerve to miss it.’

‘That arm looks pretty uncomfortable,’ Izzy said. ‘How about I take a look at it and if it’s not too bad we can send you home.’

He rolled his eyes in that universal teenage this sucks manner, but he co-operated while she examined him. He had some minor abrasions on his forehead and face but the airbag had prevented any major injury. His humerus, however, was angled and swollen, indicative of a broken arm. Izzy took his pulse and found it was very weak and the forearm looked dusky due to the artery being kinked at the fracture site.

‘I’m going to have to straighten that arm to restore blood flow,’ she said. ‘I’ll give you something to take the edge off it but it still might hurt a bit.’ She took out a Penthrane inhalant, which would deliver rapid analgesia. ‘Take a few deep breaths on this...yes, that’s right. Good job.’

While Damien was taking deep breaths on the inhalant Izzy put traction on the arm and aligned it. He gave a yowl during the process but the pulse had come back into the wrist and the hand and forearm had pinked up.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘You did really well. I’m going to put a splint on your arm so we can get you to hospital. You’re going to need an orthopaedic surgeon to have a look at that fracture.’

Damien muttered a swear word under his breath. ‘My dad is going to kill me.’

‘I’ve just called him,’ Zach said. ‘He’s on his way. The ambos are five minutes away,’ he said to Izzy.

‘Good,’ Izzy said, as she unpacked the inflatable splint. The boy was shivering with shock by now so she gave him an injection of morphine. She was about to ask Zach to pass her the blanket out of the kit when he handed it to her. She gave him a smile. ‘Mind-reader.’

He gave a shrug. ‘Been at a lot of accidents.’

Izzy hated to think of how terrible some of them might have been. Cops and ambulance personnel were always at the centre of drama and tragedy. The toll it took on them was well documented. But out in the bush, where the officers often personally knew the victims, it was particularly harrowing.

The volunteer ambulance officers were two of the people Izzy had met the other night at the pub, Ken Gordon and Roger Parker. After briefing them on the boy’s condition, she supervised them as they loaded Damien onto a stretcher, supporting his arm. And then, once he was loaded, she put in an IV and set some fluids running. The Royal Flying Doctor Service would take over once the ambulance had delivered the boy to the meeting point about eighty kilometres away.

Not long after the ambulance had left, a four-wheel-drive farm vehicle pulled up. A middle-aged man got out from behind the wheel and came over to where Zach was sorting out the towing of the damaged vehicle with the local farmer who had called in the accident.

‘Is it a write-off?’ Charles Redbank asked.

Izzy paused in the process of stripping off her sterile gloves. Although Zach had called Charles and told him Damien was OK, she still found it strange that he would want to check on the car before he saw his son. What sort of father was he? Was a car really more important to him than his own flesh and blood?

Zach put his pen back in his top pocket as he faced Charles. His mouth looked particularly grim. ‘No.’

‘Bloody fool,’ Charles muttered. ‘Was he drinking?’

‘No.’

‘He’s not seriously hurt.’ Izzy stepped forward. ‘He has a broken arm that will need to be seen by an orthopaedic surgeon. I’ve arranged for him to be flown to Bourke. If you hurry you can catch up with the ambulance. It’s only just left. You probably passed it on the road.’

‘I came in on the side road from Turner’s Creek,’ Charles said. ‘And you can think again if you think I’m going to chase after him just because he’s got a broken arm. He can deal with it. He’s an adult, or he’s supposed to be.’

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