One magical night...

...could change their lives forever!

After her ex leaves her penniless, nurse Molly Murphy takes an admin job in doctor Ryan’s practice. When Ryan needs a date for a charity ball, Molly finds herself wearing a gorgeous gown and sipping champagne for one sparkling night. But her Prince Charming guards his emotions closely. Dare they trust what’s in their hearts to find their own fairy-tale ending?

Married to the man she met at eighteen, SUSANNE HAMPTON is the mother of two adult daughters, Orianthi and Tina. She has enjoyed a varied career path, but finally found her way to her favourite role of all: Medical Romance author. Susanne has always read romance novels and says, ‘I love a happy-ever-after, so writing for Mills & Boon is a dream come true.’

Also by Susanne Hampton

Unlocking the Doctor’s Heart

Back in Her Husband’s Arms

Falling for Dr December

Midwife’s Baby Bump

A Baby to Bind Them

A Mummy to Make Christmas

Twin Surprise for the Single Dco

White Christmas for the Single Mum

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Doctor’s Cinderella

Susanne Hampton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07522-0

THE DOCTOR’S CINDERELLA

© 2018 Susanne Panagaris

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my father.

You gave me unconditional love.

You encouraged me to pursue my dreams.

You wanted me to be the best version of myself.

You are my hero, looking down from heaven.

And to Helen Mckerral for encouraging me to write this story and believing that I could do it justice.

Thank you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

MOLLY MURPHY WAS sad and irritated in equal amounts and she was barely awake. Clanging sounds followed by thuds in the street outside had woken her from a deep and much-needed sleep. Soft frown lines formed on her forehead as she rolled over and pulled the pillow around her ears but the harsh sounds continued. She gave up trying to block them out. The pillow was far too thin and no match for the noise.

It was officially the first day of winter in Australia and unrelenting rain had been teeming down for five days straight. Molly could hear that hadn’t abated overnight. The tin roof was still being hammered by the downpour but the other sounds were even louder. She rubbed her eyes, then closed them again as she contemplated whether she should get up. Her alarm hadn’t sounded so she decided to stay put.

Pleasant dreams were hard to come by for Molly and she wasn’t happy that one had been cut short as it had been far better than her reality of late. As she lay in the cosiness of her bed, her immediate recollection was a little scattered but it had included a sun-drenched, sandy beach, a cocktail with a tiny paper umbrella...and no overdue bills on the kitchen counter.

Suddenly her musing stopped as she peeked through her heavy eyelids in the direction of the window. Winter sunlight was streaming in through kinks in the ageing venetian blinds. The intensity of the light saw irritation turn to panic. Even half-asleep Molly knew her room should not have been that brightly lit at six-thirty. It was the first of June. It was officially winter and it should have been dark outside. Feeling her heart begin to pick up speed, she anxiously reached over for her mobile phone on the nightstand. The screen was black. The phone was flat. The alarm was never going to sound. She tried to focus on the clock hanging in the hallway opposite her door. It was almost eight o’clock. She had overslept by an hour and a half.

‘Oh, God...no, no, no, not today...’

Her reality was now even further from dreams of a cocktail on a beach.

Molly sat bolt upright in her bed. Only to collapse back down again in pain. Her head had collided with the ridiculously placed wooden bookcase that jutted out from the vinyl-covered bedhead. Hideous decorating from the sixties had sent her crashing back onto her pillow. Her knees instinctively lifted up to her chin and she rocked as her fingers gently rubbed the smarting skin underneath her mop of messy curls. Through tired and now-watering eyes, she looked upwards at the heavy wooden structure inconveniently protruding only twelve inches over the top of her bed.

‘Damn you,’ she spat as a few tears began spilling from her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. Molly surmised her crying was partly from the shock of hitting something so hard, partly from the pain that followed and maybe more than a little from what had led her to be sleeping in a bed with such a goddamn ugly bedhead.

Love. Naive, stupid love.

Molly had lost almost everything because of it.

And she still blamed herself.

But the new, resilient, heart-of-stone Molly Murphy would never fall in love again. Not ever. It hurt too much.

Taking a deep breath and wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, she attempted to calm herself. She didn’t have time for self-pity, not even a few minutes of it. She had to put on her big-girl panties and get going because she was running late. Very late. And since she had been sleeping in the same bed for close to a year with the horrific bookcase bedhead hovering over her, she had no choice but to assume at least part of the responsibility. Each time she had knocked her head on the oak eyesore, and there had been numerous times, she had vowed not to do it again. But then, half-asleep, she would go and do it again. If the house were hers, she would have ripped the monstrosity of a bedhead from the wall. But as a tenant she had no choice but to be the victim of it. And that unfortunately happened with annoying and painful regularity.

Insomnia had been her only bedtime companion since her fiancé had disappeared into the night without warning. He had just scribbled a five-line note that, after stripping away the narcissistic wordsmithing, had explained nothing. It had also provided Molly with no inkling of the mess that she would be left to face alone, including the last-minute cancellation of their winter wedding.

Since that dreadful day she had been tossing and turning alone in her bed, so the evening before the anniversary of the day on which she should have been walking down the aisle, she had gone to her room early. Trying desperately not to throw herself a full-blown pity party, she had listened to her female empowerment playlist on her mobile phone. Hours of the edgy, no-holds-barred lyrics had finally allowed her to fall asleep under the security of the heavy woollen blankets. And had also allowed her phone battery to go flat. If it hadn’t been for the relentless clanging of each bin being emptied into the truck then dropped back to the kerb in her narrow rain-soaked street, she might well have slept until midday. The sound of the trains shuttling past so close to her tiny home that her windows rattled had become white noise over the months and something she could easily sleep through. And she now knew the rain pelting down had joined the same category.

The sharp pain on the crown of her head quickly replaced the threat of melancholy thoughts as she climbed hurriedly but still a little gun-shy from underneath the weight of her warm covers. Still mumbling to herself, Molly switched to fight-or-flight mode as her feet touched the chilly floorboards of her bedroom. The tiny home was close to ninety years old and there were little gaps between the aged planks that allowed a draft into her room anywhere in the house where there wasn’t time-weary linoleum. But that morning Molly barely noticed the icy landing. She was in too much of a rush.

There was no time to wash her hair. In fact, there was barely enough time to run a brush through the short curly brunette bob as she ran into her tiny bathroom, jumped under a two-minute shower and then dressed in the semi-darkness of her room. Molly knew there was a hard rubbish collection as well as the bins so the council workers would be collecting the bins on both sides of the street and she didn’t want to be their early morning floor show, so she hurriedly pulled the curtains closed over the broken blinds.

Reaching for the light switch, she found the single light globe hovering over her head had blown. Mentally taking stock of the morning up to that point, she decided it was disastrous and apparently getting worse by the second. The clock was ticking. The next bus would be pulling up at the nearest bus stop in eight minutes and she couldn’t even resort to the flashlight on her phone.

She pulled a skirt and shirt from the wardrobe, hoping they matched or at least came close, and her fingers felt around manically under her bed for her shoes. She didn’t have time to open the curtains and begin her search. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual as her anxiety levels had peaked. She needed this job as she had few savings left and she had health insurance due the following week, along with the rent and utilities. Molly was well aware that her landlord was not the understanding type. His eldest son and right-hand man, Joel, on the other hand, would offer leniency, accepting part-payment at a price Molly would never pay. He knew she was single, struggling financially and he made his terms very clear. The very thought made her skin crawl and her stomach heave. She would rather live in a tent than give in to him.

Still shuddering with the revolting image of Joel when he delivered his disgusting proposition, Molly raced into the kitchen, on the way calling out to her younger brother, Tommy. Quickly she realised with the lack of a response that he had already left for work. She was grateful that at least one of them had headed off on time. After grabbing a muesli bar from the pantry for breakfast and tossing the phone charger into her bag, Molly threw on her heavy overcoat and hurriedly closed and locked the front door behind her. She navigated puddles down the cracked pathway of her yard, noticing the grass on either side was covered with a layer of overnight frost. Winter was there to stay, she decided as she ran in the rain-dampened cold morning air for the bus stop only two streets from hers. She had forgotten her gloves so she secured her bag on her shoulder and pushed her hands inside the deep pockets of her heavy overcoat. She had, according to her calculations, two minutes to make it to the stop.

Still catching her breath as she rounded the corner, Molly watched in horror as the fully laden bus pulled away from the kerb. The windows were foggy with the warm breath of the early morning passengers all cramped inside and holding on to the ceiling straps so they didn’t lose their footing as the bus muscled its way into the fast flow of traffic. She stopped in her tracks, huffing and puffing and staring helplessly as it drove away. Never before had she wished so much to be crammed uncomfortably against strangers as she did at that moment. Never before had she worried that two minutes could potentially change the course of her life and put her on the unemployment line.

A feeling of resignation that she had no power to change her sad state of affairs washed over her as she walked towards the bus stop and waited in line for the next bus. She could make it to her temp assignment if the next one was on time, but if it was late then she too would be late and there was the risk that the practice would call the agency and request another temp and she would be down a month’s steady income.

That couldn’t happen, she thought as she looked around her at the crowd building in anticipation of the arrival of the next early morning bus. Was she the only one who had slept in and was at risk of eviction if the bus was late? Was she the only person whose life had been tipped upside down and had still not righted itself, despite how hard and how long she tried to get herself back on track? Was she the only one who couldn’t afford to hail a cab even if she could get one to stop, which she doubted as they would all be taken on a day like this?

The cold breeze gained intensity, cutting through Molly’s coat. She pulled her arms closer to her body and tried to stop the shivers taking over. Chilled to her core, and waiting in line for a bus that she prayed would arrive in time, she looked around at the others also huddled around the bus shelter. There were schoolchildren of various ages and heights in different uniforms but all with raincoats and backpacks; office workers with briefcases; a construction worker in his high-vis vest, carrying his metal lunch box and hard hat; and an elderly couple holding gloved hands, their faces a little contorted by the frosty elements but no doubt, Molly thought, warmed by each other’s company. She had no such comfort or company.

Within a few minutes, and with no warning, the ominous grey clouds that were threatening a downpour opened their floodgates. Hurriedly Molly reached back for her hood but there wasn’t one. Both of her black winter overcoats were on the hall stand and naturally, in keeping with the tone of the morning, she had chosen the coat without a hood. There was no room as her fellow travellers rushed for the already oversubscribed shelter and moments later it became obvious her umbrella was not in her oversized handbag.

It couldn’t get worse, Molly decided. She would arrive resembling a drowned rat and more than likely late for a much-needed new job. She allowed herself a few seconds to once again indulge in the state of her life, which at that moment was quite dreadful. Then she took a deep breath and settled her thoughts. Until she looked down at her rain-splattered feet and almost laughed out loud.

‘Really? Who does that?’ she mumbled. With the noise of the heavy traffic rushing by on the wet roads no one could have heard her mutterings but Molly no longer cared if they had. It didn’t bother her if the world thought she was mad because at that moment she felt awfully close to it anyway. In her fluster and the darkness of her tiny bedroom, she had slipped into odd ballet flats. One navy and the other black. The black one had a small velvet bow and Molly felt quite certain that unless her work colleagues were short-sighted they would notice. It would be an embarrassing beginning. Then something deep inside reminded her that it was the beginning of something new. A new start, she thought. A rebooting of her life, she told herself as the rain trickled down her temples and inside the collar of her coat.

With that thought, her soggy chin raised a little. It was the beginning of Molly Murphy’s new life. The old debts were finally paid in full. It had taken her eleven months to repay everything. The man who had destroyed her credit rating and almost destroyed her life was gone. And she had a new job. The new, resolute Molly was ready to build a new life...but one without a man. She might have a terrible address at that moment and no long-term, well-paid career prospects, but she had done the best she could.

Hindsight would have seen her make very different financial decisions. But hindsight was like that. It was wise and sensible. And she had been neither when she’d met the man she’d thought would be her happily ever after. She had rushed in and believed every word he had whispered in her ear. Hung on every promise he’d made in the warmth of the bed they’d shared. Trusted every dream he’d told her as she’d smiled at her beautiful diamond engagement ring. She’d thought her life was turning around after the sadness of losing her parents. She’d believed she had found the one. The man who would make her dreams come true. The one who would make her life whole again.

But all of it was a lie. A well-planned, brilliantly executed lie.

And one she had willingly and naively bought into and lost almost everything she had in the process. But fortunately, not everything. She still had her most treasured, shining ace.

She had Tommy.

Looking up into the falling raindrops, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And so, she did neither. Instead she let the water run over her face, waking her up completely, while her icy fingers felt around in the bottom of her bag for her makeshift breakfast. She unwrapped it and unceremoniously wolfed it down in three bites. At least the pain in her head was subsiding and while she was quite powerless to change much about the morning, she could at least prevent her stomach growling with hunger. The very first day of winter was testing her mettle but she would get through it. She had Tommy and together they could face whatever life threw at them. They had already proven that.

Suddenly the thought of her younger brother warmed her heart and went a little way to quelling her rising anxiety. He more than made up for the wreck the other parts of her life had become. And on the days when she felt herself spinning a little close to the edge, knowing they had each other kept her grounded.

And that day would be no different.

Whatever the world threw at her, she would face it head-on.

She had to do that for Tommy.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU’RE PRETTY.’

Molly lifted her bright blue eyes from the keyboard at the reception desk that had been officially hers for four hours. Her lips instinctively curved upwards to form something close to a smile at the unexpected compliment. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Pretty was nowhere close to how she felt. In her mind, bedraggled would have been a more accurate call but she was trying not to think about her appearance and just get on with the job at hand. She was warm and dry and that was an improvement on the start of her day. Grooming had not been a priority that morning but hearing the young woman’s compliment definitely lifted her spirits.

‘Thank you. I think you’re very kind to say something so sweet,’ Molly told the young woman who had fronted the desk. ‘I think you’re very pretty and I love your red boots.’

The young woman, just like Molly’s brother, Tommy, had been born with Down’s syndrome and just like Tommy, she appeared to be relatively independent, by virtue of her attending the surgery without a caregiver by her side. Molly noticed she was wearing designer jeans and a red jumper under her checked woollen overcoat that also looked as if it had been bought at a high-end store. Her short blonde hair was in a bob style and the flat red ankle boots completed the outfit. She was quite the young fashionista.

‘Thank you. Red is my favourite colour in the world.’

‘I must agree. Red is lovely,’ Molly told her, then continued. ‘May I have your name, please?’

‘Lizzy Jones,’ the young woman said. ‘My boyfriend likes red. He didn’t like red before he was my boyfriend. Now he likes red.’

Molly smiled at the thought of the young man changing his favourite colour to match his girlfriend’s taste. Young love was so sweet and naive and something to be treasured as it rarely stayed that perfect. When the rose-coloured glasses came off the real man was rarely as perfect as he once seemed. She hoped for Lizzy’s sake her boyfriend remained as lovely as he was at that moment.

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ Lizzy asked, breaking Molly’s train of thought.

‘Um...no, no, I don’t.’

‘You should have a boyfriend. It’s nice. You can share lunch and hold hands.’

‘I will give it some thought,’ Molly said politely, all the while thinking quite the opposite. Boyfriends, fiancés, they were all the same. They brought heartbreak and disappointment and she was not going back there. Not ever.

‘My dad doesn’t know I have a boyfriend.’ Lizzy giggled then covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I will tell him maybe next week or maybe at Christmas.’

‘It’s a long time until Christmas,’ Molly told her with her eyebrow arched slightly.

‘Mmm...maybe next week. I don’t know.’

‘That might be a good idea to let your father know you have a boyfriend. He might like to meet him. I’m sure he’s very nice.’

‘Shh,’ Lizzy said with her fingers at her lips and looking a little anxious. ‘You can’t tell when you see him.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t, I promise,’ Molly replied with a smile, wondering if Lizzy’s father was parking the car or running late to meet her. Whatever the case she hadn’t hesitated to reassure the young woman. She had become visibly agitated and needed reassurance that her secret was safe. Molly could see no purpose in announcing to a complete stranger that his daughter had a boyfriend when it might be nothing more than puppy love. And none of her business.

‘Okay,’ Lizzy said before she crossed the room and made herself comfortable on a waiting-room chair.

Molly sensed Lizzy was quite at ease with being in the practice, almost as if it were a second home to her. She checked the appointment schedule. Forty-five minutes had been allocated for Lizzy Jones, which was unusual considering the pace of the morning, and there was no reference to patient notes available online. She wasn’t listed as a new patient but she wasn’t in the records management system either. Molly found all of it unusual and decided she would raise it with Ryan later.

There were no other patients waiting as they had been running early and the previous patient had just left. Molly glanced up periodically and noticed Lizzy had taken off her overcoat and neatly placed it on the chair beside her. She was happily swinging her legs and glancing around at the paintings on the wall. Sometime in the ensuing minutes while Molly was processing correspondence Lizzy made her way back to the reception desk.

‘Are your shoes red?’ Lizzy asked excitedly.

Molly jumped with the surprise of having the young woman upon her again without warning. Then she cringed at the thought of her mismatched shoes. As a knee-jerk reaction to feeling more than a little self-conscious she placed one foot on top of the other. Quite purposely squashing the solo bow on her left foot.

‘Umm...’

Before she had a chance to finish her reply a deep male voice came from somewhere close behind her.

‘Well, Lizzy, I’m looking at them now and they’re definitely not red. Actually, it would appear that Miss Murphy couldn’t quite decide whether to wear blue or black shoes today...so she chose one of each colour and threw in a bow of sorts...but only on one of them.’

‘That’s funny,’ Lizzy said with a wide grin that further lit up her happy face.

‘Well, funny’s one way to describe it,’ the male voice countered. ‘Another would be odd. Quite literally.’

Molly didn’t turn. She was only too well aware it was her boss of four hours. The far too perfect Dr Ryan McFetridge. Charcoal-eyed, raven-haired, six-foot-two, sole general practitioner to the wealthy and privileged who happened to need a temp office manager at the same time that Molly needed a job, any job. It was her only option to ensure she and Tommy were not evicted by the week’s end. And that morning as she had stood in the rain watching the bus pull away a tiny part of her had feared that might happen.

‘Do you like to mix it up?’ the deep voice continued, bringing Molly back from her unsettling thoughts.

Molly drew a deep breath, plastered on a smile and spun to face her boss. His perfect smile made the picture even more ridiculous. And made her feel even more self-conscious. She was bedraggled and he was standing so close with his leading-man looks, not to mention a voice as smooth as melted chocolate. She knew the type. He had playboy written all over him. But he didn’t impress her. Not in the least. Molly Murphy had sworn off men...and nothing was going to sway that vow.

‘Or was it a case of dressing in the dark?’ he continued as he stepped to the side a little and, opening one of the filing cabinets, began sifting through old hard-copy case notes. After finding what he wanted, he returned his gaze to her but said nothing.

‘Actually, you nailed it,’ she responded without expression in her voice or on her face. ‘I did dress in the dark this morning, quite literally.’

‘Power outage?’

‘Of sorts,’ she replied, not liking the fact he hadn’t broken eye contact. For some unknown reason, despite her showing no emotion, he was unsettling her. It wasn’t his line of questioning. It was his proximity to her. Through his clothes and her own, she could almost sense the warmth of his body. It was as if her own body was adjusting its thermostat to his and she was enormously relieved when he stepped away.

‘That would explain a lot.’

Molly wasn’t sure what the comment alluded to but assumed it was her previously wet hair and clothes. Before she could take him to task on the meaning behind his remark, he popped the patient record under his arm and then asked Lizzy to follow him to the consulting room.

As the two of them disappeared, Molly was angry with herself. Why the hell was she reacting to him being so close? She should be angry with him but instead she felt a warm wave wash over her and suspected her cheeks might be flushed. She was appalled and surprised.

Molly had met Ryan briefly when she had first arrived, flustered and rushed. She accepted he was an extremely good-looking man but their meeting had been brief, and from a distance across the office as he’d taken an early arriving patient into his consulting room. She had been more interested in settling into the job with the assistance of the young nurse, Stacy, who was there arranging influenza shots and bloods. Molly just wanted to stay under the radar and unnoticed herself, rather than noticing too much about her employer. But suddenly, now, she had noticed far too much about him.

The handsome medico was dressed straight from a men’s designer store, the kind of store filled with expensive leather shoes and every imported suit hanging an equal distance from the next on the rack, all covered with shoulder protectors, and assorted silk ties dressing shirts that were housed in open mahogany display cabinets. She knew the stores only too well. A year before, she and her fiancé had been regular customers of them. Her fiancé was quite the clothes horse and she had unwittingly been footing the bill. Ever since, the stores and the people who shopped there had held no appeal to her.

And there was Dr McFetridge’s elegantly decorated consulting rooms in one of Adelaide’s most affluent eastern suburbs. The leafy side streets were lined with large, opulent, double-storey homes with return driveways and at least three imported cars while Molly’s home had no driveway, which was fine as she had no car to park in one anyway. She had sold it along with her jewellery to cover the bond on her home and buy some simple furnishings. And she could get by just fine without it. Except for this morning, when a car would have been very handy.

Everything about Ryan was impeccable. She assumed his designer underwear would match his socks too. Black and more than likely the finest imported woven silk...

She stopped mid-thought and shook herself mentally. What had got into her? And why on earth was she even thinking about her employer’s underwear? It had to have been the knock to her head. Or perhaps being celibate for a year was affecting her reasoning, she decided. But it hadn’t until that moment. The need to have a man in her life was below the need to match the colour of the bin liner to the trash can. Of no importance and not worth a second thought. And a man like Dr McFetridge was not on her wish list; no man was.

Perhaps it was the significance of the day that was making her react. That had to be it, she told herself, and the next day would be different. She wouldn’t be having the melancholy thoughts and she wouldn’t give her boss even a second thought.

But she begrudgingly admitted to herself that she did like his cologne. The fresh woody fragrance was still lingering. Fragrance had not been her priority that morning. She was lucky to get close to soap and nothing about her lingerie matched. Molly’s stomach dropped and she moved in her seat to confirm in her rush she had remembered underwear. She breathed a sigh of relief when she could feel the elastic of her knickers. Thankfully she had grabbed one of the three pairs pegged to a coat hanger to dry over the bath the night before. She cringed momentarily.

If they had not been hanging in her line of sight would she be wearing any?

Just as quickly yet another unsettling thought swept into her mind. She pushed it aside. They were on and she didn’t need to dwell on what might or might not have been. It had been a ridiculously rushed start to her first day but with a smidgen of Irish luck, from her father’s side, she had made it with five minutes to spare. Although after seeing the consulting rooms she wondered just how long he would keep her on staff. It was only too obvious to Molly that appearance certainly counted with him. His dress sense, his rooms, all of it was immaculate.

And she was not. Well, not at that time. She had previously dressed well and taken pride in her hair and make-up, but equal amounts of money and sleep deprivation meant both had gone to pot. And nothing much about that was going to change overnight. But she was clean and efficient. Like the pitch to sell a small imported car, she thought.

Her mind was jumbled and she had to stay focussed. It couldn’t be that difficult. He was just another tall, dark, good-looking man and she was not interested in men, tall, short, dark or fair; she was not interested in being used and lied to again. And stripped of her faith in humanity...and her worldly possessions...in one fell swoop.

She opened her eyes just as quickly and, looking around at everything, she was reminded that, while she no doubt looked out of place in Ryan McFetridge’s practice, her skills should ensure she stayed put as long as possible and enable her to meet the rent and avoid Joel’s advances.

Despite her decision not to bite back too fiercely, Molly could not roll over and let another man think his looks would allow him to act in a way that was just wrong in her book. While it was only her shoes, she had to put a line in the sand and retain a little dignity. She had made it to work on time and he had no idea what she had been through to get there. So what if her shoes didn’t match? As if it mattered in the scheme of things—her feet were hidden behind the desk and it didn’t make her less competent, she reminded herself, all the while feeling quite ridiculous and uncomfortably exposed. Although she did not truly feel the level of bravado she was trying to exude, she would do her best to let her temporary employer know where she stood.

Twenty minutes later, Lizzy and Ryan reappeared. He placed the notes on the reception desk, and Molly couldn’t help but notice he patted the dog-eared records almost affectionately. She was even more confused.

‘I’ll need you to make another time for Lizzy in four weeks with Dr Slattery. His details are on the notes here. And can you make it a time that I can attend with her so block out ninety minutes in my calendar too, please, Molly, to allow for my travel time.’

‘Certainly,’ Molly replied, then, wondering why Ryan would be accompanying his patient to see another medico, added, ‘Is this for a second opinion?’

‘No, it’s not a second opinion. Lizzy is Dr Slattery’s patient.’

‘Okay, I’ll call his rooms and make that time now.’

Molly didn’t quite understand but decided not to question him further. However, she did need to address something. His remarks about her shoes were playing on her mind. She wanted to be clear in what she would tolerate and what she wouldn’t and wanted to address it before Ryan disappeared back into his room.

‘I’ll make the time right away, then after that I could take a lunch break, go home and collect matching shoes if you think they’re an issue.’ Molly’s tone was not confronting but it was firm and resolute. She was respectful of Lizzy’s presence and aware she was witnessing everything.

There was silence for a moment. Molly watched as Ryan’s eyebrow raised but she quickly sensed amusement rather than annoyance in his expression. It was almost as if his eyes were saying ‘bravo to you’ but his lips hadn’t moved, not even twitched.

She was incredibly confused and that had not happened to her in a very long time. For the last year she had felt confident that she could size up a man quickly. There were two categories: not to be trusted and those over sixty-five.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ he told her. ‘You look perfectly fine just as you are.’

Molly was taken aback by his response but didn’t have time to say anything as he continued.

‘Lizzy, I don’t think you’ve met Molly. She’s my new office manager and she’ll be here for the next month. You’ll see her whenever you call in to visit me.’ Ryan paused again for a moment, his eyes darting between the two women, as if deep in thought. Then he continued, ‘Molly, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Elizabeth, who prefers to be called Lizzy, and the aforementioned red shoes are her favourite.’

Molly almost fell off her seat. She had not seen that coming at all. Dr McPerfect had a teenage daughter. She suddenly understood why Ryan wanted to attend her appointment with her general practitioner and why Lizzy wasn’t on the record management system. Lizzy was his daughter, not his patient, despite having a different surname. And if Molly had heard correctly, he wanted her to stay on for the length of the assignment. He apparently wasn’t about to fire her for rushing in at the last minute looking as if she had been plucked from a downpipe.

Ryan was not the man she had imagined at all.

Watching the way Ryan walked from behind the reception desk and over to Lizzy, putting his arm around her in such a loving way, made Molly’s heart soften just a little. Suddenly Molly saw him as just Lizzy’s father, although he didn’t look old enough to have a daughter Lizzy’s age. She felt her heart almost skip a beat. There was something in the way his dark eyes smiled as he pulled his daughter protectively to him that to her surprise took Molly’s breath away. It was an unconditional love he had for her. And she knew that feeling so very well. It was exactly how she felt when Tommy gave her a hug goodnight. And it was the feeling that kept her going when everything else in her life was turning to mud.

Molly had thought she had men safely locked away. They were not to be trusted. Period. Suddenly Ryan was testing her bias. Suddenly she realised that she had been the one casting judgement on her boss because she was afraid of being judged. Dr McFetridge was keeping her on staff even though she had assumed she did not fit his vision of perfect. Perhaps it was her idea of what perfect should look like that was skewing her outlook. Everything about the previous five minutes had taken her aback. She had been the one guilty of assuming the book was the total of the cover.

Molly was quickly being forced to accept that perhaps there might actually be more to Dr McFetridge than handsome packaging.

CHAPTER THREE

RYAN HAD WANTED uninterrupted father-daughter time to discuss the medical issues at hand and then link via a telephone conference to discuss the prognosis and potential treatment plan with Lizzy’s GP and the specialist.

A choice would need to be made but Ryan had no intention of rushing into a decision that didn’t sit well with his daughter. He had removed his own GP hat and had worn his father hat during the conversation. There were a number of considerations moving forward. How his daughter felt about each and every one of them was paramount to Ryan. With the options clearly explained, Ryan wanted to sit and talk more with Lizzy before making their joint decision and visiting her doctor.

Finally, a driver arrived to collect her. Ryan waved goodbye and walked his next patient into his consulting room and closed the door. He sat down opposite the older woman and leaned in towards her slightly.

‘Tell me, Dorothy, how are you and how is the adjusted medication level coming along?’

‘Not too bad, Doctor.’

The elderly lady’s reply didn’t convince Ryan as he watched as her softly wrinkled hands fidgeted with her handkerchief. She was twisting the delicate lace-edged linen nervously.

‘Not too bad?’ he replied. ‘That’s not what I was hoping to hear and it’s not the same as good. I would like to hear that you’re feeling very well, Dorothy. You’re the most energetic and engaging octogenarian I know. What’s bothering you?’

He didn’t take his eyes away from hers. Ryan was not going to let her leave without an explanation.

‘Well.’ She paused for a moment then took a considered breath and continued. ‘My sugar readings are all around six or seven, which you told me is fine, but the headaches are still there. Every day I have one. Some days I even wake up with one and, on those days, they are particularly bad. I don’t like taking painkillers but George says I must take them or I’m like a grumpy bear. He makes sure I do every four hours and gets quite cross if I don’t want to take them. I don’t want to upset him and I would hate to be a grumpy bear but I’m taking twelve of those tablets a day and that can’t be good.’

Ryan’s displeasure with George’s behaviour towards his wife, insisting that she take the tablets rather than solving the problem, showed in his frown. ‘George is not qualified, Dorothy. And you should not need that level of medication, so let’s get to the reason for the headaches.’

He did not further push his annoyance that George was encouraging the painkillers without consultation with a professional. Dorothy Dunstan, in Ryan’s opinion, was as far from a grumpy bear as one could get. Even in pain. The eighty-one-year-old was a slightly built woman, with a mass of white curls, stunning blue eyes and the sweetest smile. He had no doubt she would have been very beautiful as a younger woman and her prettiness would more than likely still turn heads in the upmarket retirement village where the couple lived.

Her husband, George, on the other hand, also a patient of Ryan’s practice, was a solidly built man with a gruff demeanour and very much closer to a bear’s disposition on the best of days, particularly when his diverticulosis flared up and he blamed everyone around him. Ryan was upset that the man would force his wife to take medication just to keep her happy around him.

‘Let’s trial a break of your current medication. That may help with the headaches. No guarantee but it’s worth trying that route.’

‘Really, Doctor? But what about my diabetes?’

‘The surgery to remove your gall bladder last November also removed the chronic infection. That would have been stressing your body and as a result a number of organs were not functioning properly and your blood sugar level became elevated. I have been lowering your dose each month, as you know, but now I would like you to stop taking your medication completely for one week.’ Ryan paused and looked Dorothy in the eyes with a serious expression dressing his face. ‘But, Dorothy, you must maintain a diet without any added sugar as the dietician advised. None. No chocolates or other sugary treats. That means no cakes or biscuits with your cup of tea...and no scones, jam and cream either.’

‘I promise, Dr McFetridge, but I do love Devonshire teas and it has been very hard to say no to my friends when they make scones. And George buys us both cake with our coffee after lawn bowls and I don’t like to say no to him.’

George’s selfish and ignorant attitude was testing Ryan’s patience but he controlled his desire to tell Dorothy what he thought of her husband. ‘I know, but you also want to stay healthy and drug free so it’s worth the sacrifice and I’m sure that your friends and George love you enough to understand. But you must tell them and you must be firm.’

Dorothy nodded in response.

‘And I want you to call through your blood sugar reading every day to my nurse. Any raised levels and I need to see you straight away. Don’t try to persevere if the levels change. I can’t reiterate this enough. Diabetes is a serious condition, but as it only occurred after your illness we may be able to control it with a sensible diet from here on in. But it will mean ongoing monitoring and food restrictions.’

‘Really? You mean I may not need to take the medication again, ever?’

‘Let’s hope so. In some cases, an adjusted diet is all the treatment a patient needs and I hope you are one of the fortunate ones. Would you like me to tell George that he should refrain from buying the cake and the painkillers?’

‘Oh, Lord, no. He would have a fit if he thought I’d told you that.’ Dorothy’s disposition was suddenly flustered.

‘You can rest assured that I won’t say anything, then, Dorothy, but you need to be firm with him. And I do mean firm. You can’t eat the cakes just because your husband has bought one for each of you.’

‘I’ll just tell him I’m not hungry.’

‘You can tell George whatever you like, that is not my business, although I would have thought telling him the truth about your condition would be better, but again that’s not my place to advise you how best to manage George. However...’ He paused and his voice became increasingly deep and more serious in tone. ‘Whatever you tell him, you must not waver under pressure. It’s your long-term health that we are talking about here. And George would most definitely want a healthy wife.’

She nodded her agreement to Ryan’s terms then continued. ‘If I stop the medication and avoid the temptation of the sweets, do you think my headache will finally go away?’

‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Ryan told her as he stood.

‘Then that’s wonderful news and worth the sacrifice of a few cakes...’

‘All cakes, not a few cakes.’

‘That’s what I meant.’

Ryan smiled as he reached for Dorothy’s arm and lifted her to her feet and walked her out to the reception area, asking Molly to make an appointment for the following week.

He left Dorothy with Molly, then turned and smiled in her husband’s direction. ‘How are you today, George? Keeping dry and out of the cold as much as you can, I hope.’

George grunted and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘Damned appointments all day. After this I have to go home, pick up Dorothy’s darned cat and get her to the vet. Fur-balls again. If it’s not one thing it’s another. So much for retirement. I never get a day at home in peace. And the cat doesn’t like me anyway. It either hisses at me or ignores me. Typical woman.’

Ryan wasn’t sure quite what to say. The elderly man was healthy for his age, with relatively few ailments, but his demeanour was another story. He behaved as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and nothing appeared to make him happy. Ryan had initially suspected a level of depression but that was quickly ruled out by a referral to a clinical psychologist. George had retired from his successful fishing charter business in the lower Eyre Peninsula town of Port Lincoln a very wealthy man. He had a very sweet wife, the two of them had taken numerous extended overseas holidays and were active for their age, and their four daughters had provided them with half a dozen healthy, happy grandchildren. If only, Ryan thought, there were a medication to remedy a glass-half-empty outlook on life. George’s cup was chipped, stained and the handle missing most days and he truly had no idea how fortunate he was to have the love and devotion of a woman as wonderful as Dorothy for over sixty years.

Ryan knew that he would never have that same unconditional love and, in his heart, he knew why. He would never trust anyone to get that close to him again.

* * *

Ryan walked back into his office leaving Dorothy Dunstan speaking with Molly. He hoped that she had listened to his instructions and would adhere to the strict diet, and the headaches would in time subside. There was of course a very good chance that the cause of her daily headache was George, and if that was the case there really was no medicinal cure. The only cure would be to leave him. And a woman like Dorothy would never consider that an option.

As he closed his door, Ryan’s thoughts unexpectedly turned from Dorothy to Molly. Molly, with her uncontrolled mop of brown curls and contagious smile. And feisty attitude. The agency had told him Molly Murphy would be temping at the office to replace Maxine, his office manager of six years who had slipped and broken her arm in her Zumba class. Immediately he had formed a picture in his mind of a pleasant and efficient Irish woman in her late fifties or early sixties to replace his very efficient but now injured gym junkie and almost sixty-year-old office manager. With an image of the Irish replacement having a love of home knits, wonderful cooking skills and a slight brogue accent, Ryan felt confident the woman would meet the needs of the family-focussed practice for four weeks. She would be the wholesome motherly figure like Maxine whom his patients would like and adapt to quickly.

Then Molly had arrived and she didn’t come close to his vision. In her mid to late twenties, she had no Irish accent, and she didn’t seem the type to sit home knitting. She had shot his clichéd assumptions out of the water. She certainly was a conundrum. And more than a little difficult to read. He had observed her open and comforting rapport with patients during the morning and decided that her chosen path in a medical support role matched her natural affinity with people and his patients would quickly warm to her, but there was something that didn’t add up. Her administration skills appeared more than competent but her medical expertise appeared more aligned to that of a doctor or nurse. He had overheard her speaking to more than one patient and the level of detail she provided exposed the true depth of her knowledge. The agency had not provided a résumé as his request had come at short notice but Molly came highly recommended and very quickly Ryan could see why.

He couldn’t deny he was curious about her. There was definitely more to Molly Murphy than met the eye.

At odds with her empathetic nature was a woman who had come out fighting like a cornered alley cat when he’d mentioned her dubious footwear. He was grateful that he hadn’t raised the matter of her arriving drenched to the bone with only minutes to spare.

He shook his head a little as he crossed to his desk and opened up the emails on his computer. Not many people surprised Ryan McFetridge any more. He treated most people with a level of distrust until they could prove otherwise and he believed that he could fairly easily and accurately sum them up. But he didn’t feel his usual level of confidence about his summation of Molly. He wasn’t sure what he felt but it did unsettle him that he felt something.

He closed his emails. There was nothing of interest, just a reminder about a medical association event he had agreed to attend the next evening and some pharmaceutical promotions. Running one hand through his short black hair, he opened the afternoon patient roster as he routinely did after every morning’s appointments were completed. He did a double take and, far from being annoyed, his interest was piqued when he saw changes to the layout of the next day’s patient listing. He hovered the cursor over the first name and the medical history and purpose of the appointment appeared. He tried it again on the next patient and again the function allowed him access to the notes of the previous three visits without going into each patient’s records. It was an abbreviated medical history with a link to archived notes. He smirked. Molly Murphy had been doing some upgrades. The reference to these details was an impressive feature and a function of the software package that he had never accessed because he hadn’t been aware it existed. Molly certainly knew the program well. And Ryan was more than impressed. He had not asked for improvements, nor had the busy schedule provided her with additional time on her hands to do this out of boredom. Molly had used initiative to make improvements. Again, she had surprised him and that never happened. Not any more.

Molly Murphy, he thought, you might just be the perfect for-ever woman...for my practice, he quickly qualified.

Ryan McFetridge had no need for a for-ever woman in any other area of his life. And particularly not a woman like Molly. She appeared very different from the women with whom Ryan kept company. Her manner with patients was genuine. The empathy showed a warm heart beneath her shapeless clothes. The women Ryan preferred wore clothes that hugged their shapes but underneath there was no sign of a heart. And that suited him. A night of mutual satisfaction with a woman who was not wanting or expecting more was all he wanted.

Because Ryan McFetridge had nothing to give. Nor did he want anything back.

He rested back in his large black leather chair, a touch of melancholy colouring his mood as he swivelled to look out through the rain-spotted window to the overcast streetscape. It was cold and miserable, with few people in sight, but for some inexplicable reason Ryan felt different. His mood was lighter. And Ryan had not felt anything close to that in a very long time. He brushed aside the coincidence of his mood lifting on the same day that Molly had started work. It was just that. A coincidence. It couldn’t be anything more.

His sole focus outside his work was his daughter. She was his motivation to keep going. To build a legacy to ensure she never needed or wanted for anything. That responsibility weighed heavily. And he would never let her down.

Or ever let anyone hurt her.

Ever again.

* * *

Swivelling back on his chair and returning his focus to his computer screen, he realised Molly Murphy knew her stuff and he couldn’t help but wonder about her background and her qualifications. And why she was working in a role that Ryan suspected was far less than her capability. He knew so little about her. He had to admit to himself he had noticed she was not wearing a wedding ring. He didn’t know why he’d even looked. But with Molly he was curious to know more. Although the absence didn’t mean there was no significant other in her life. And he reminded himself that she could potentially have children, although they would be relatively young.

But none of it mattered, he continued to remind himself. She was his office manager. Nothing more. Nothing less. But it still didn’t stop thoughts of her occupying his head. She was pretty in an almost fragile way but she had spunk and clearly knew how to take care of herself. And now his practice. There was something about Molly that reminded Ryan of the weather outside...unpredictable and challenging.

And Ryan McFetridge had always loved winter.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of his mahogany desk. It was inlaid with a deep burgundy leather and not in keeping with the rest of the more modern decor but it had been a graduation gift from his parents. As they had both since died not long after he’d opened his practice in Adelaide, he loved having something to remind him of them every day. His childhood had been happy and filled with love and encouragement and one of Ryan’s many regrets was that Lizzy had never met her paternal grandparents.

He rested his chin on one hand as he began to scan through his emails. He needed to get back on track and stop being distracted by random thoughts, especially those of his new staff member. Pondering the unknown was pointless and wasting time. He reminded himself firmly that Molly Murphy’s past, present or future after the immediate four-week placement was not his business. With common sense born from the realities he had faced over the years since Lizzy had come into his life, Ryan knew, no matter what effect Molly was or wasn’t having on him, he had to keep it purely business.

* * *

Despite her best intentions, Molly’s own curiosity continued to niggle at her new-found peace of mind. Lingering doubts were replaced by an unsettling and growing interest in knowing a little more about her temporary boss. As much as she also tried to push thoughts about Ryan away as she sipped on lunch, they kept returning. While she felt secure in the knowledge that she had ongoing employment for a month, she felt concerned about why she wanted to know more about her employer. And his daughter. She wondered if Lizzy was using her mother’s surname or maiden name. Not that any of it mattered. She was not naturally curious but now, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to know more than was necessary to carry out her job.

Why did he have to be so damned attractive and, from all appearances, a loving father? she thought as she pursed her lips. She gently blew on her spoonful of soup in an attempt to cool it slightly. She had not been interested in men since her engagement ended. And she had to keep it that way. He was a man giving her employment for a month. And in her financial situation it was not unlike a rope to a drowning man. A godsend. She couldn’t confuse gratitude for anything more than that. She couldn’t afford to romanticise the situation.

Molly felt sure that she had reconciled the situation in her head and definitely quelled any thoughts stirring in her heart. It was relief and gratitude turning her emotions upside down. Nothing more, she decided as she continued eating her lunch, glancing occasionally out through the rain-splattered window. The weather was still dismal and, on top of the rain, she had discovered when she’d dashed out to find lunch that the bitterly cold breeze had not abated. A patient had told her that falling branches and trees had knocked down power lines in the foothills. It was only slightly better in their location as a powerful gust blowing down the street cut through her thick coat during her mad dash out, once again chilling her to the bone. An arctic freeze, one patient remarked.

She was grateful she had taken the earlier dampness out of her hair with the hand-dryer in the restroom and borrowed an umbrella from Stacy or she might have brought the stirrings of a winter head cold back to the practice with her. But climate aside, Molly’s day had insurmountably improved from the rocky start. A month’s employment was everything she needed at that moment. She knew rent would be covered and she could save a little for unexpected bills. Finally, she could exhale if only for a few weeks and that brought her great comfort. As did her warm surroundings that she studied in a little more detail.

The lunchroom was brightly lit, with a round white wooden table and four matching chairs with red cushions and an arrangement of fresh red and yellow gerberas, which she knew must have been imported at that time of the year; a well-stocked wall-mounted magazine rack that was female friendly in choices; and the usual kitchen amenities, including a red enamelled espresso machine and red mugs. Molly had wondered if Lizzy might have had input into arranging the pretty room since there were many not so subtle splashes of red in the decor.

A few moments later Ryan made his way into the lunchroom, slightly startling Molly. She had assumed he had left the practice for his home rounds. There were five visits that afternoon and Molly discovered Ryan, unlike many GPs, didn’t use a locum service to meet his patients’ needs. He called in personally to monitor those who were housebound by various short-and long-term medical ailments, including those patients who had been admitted permanently to nursing homes. He seemed more like a country-style, hands-on GP.

‘Molly,’ Ryan said as he made his way to the refrigerator and collected milk. ‘I wondered if you might be in here.’

‘Just grabbing a bite to eat.’

‘Ah, soup,’ he said, peering into the bowl as he passed by. ‘Is it home-made?’

‘No, the local shop,’ she mumbled as she swallowed and pointed in the direction of the local bakery across the road. ‘I didn’t have time to think about breakfast this morning, let alone packing lunch.’

Ryan smiled in reply and made his way to the espresso machine. ‘I’m not much of a breakfast person, slice of toast on the way out of the door if I’m lucky, but I never go without my coffee. I’m addicted to caffeine, I can’t lie.’

‘It’s not a serious vice,’ she returned, happy their conversation was light and casual and he was on the other side of the room. Her emotions were in check and he was just a handsome doctor making chit-chat. It was easy, she told herself. She had clearly overreacted before to being in a new environment.

‘I agree, there’s worse,’ he said as he turned his back on the machine and faced Molly with his arms folded across his chest. ‘Before I head off for the afternoon, I wanted to say thank you for the changes that you made to the scheduling.’

‘You’re welcome. I like the software and you hadn’t been utilising all of the features.’

‘It’s great. I had no idea the software had that capability.’

‘I’ve seen it at a number of practices, and even some small country hospitals use it. The bigger ones not so much.’

‘So, you’ve done some country placements in admin too, then?’

‘As a nurse, I accessed the software for patient notes and was impressed so I looked into it further.’ As the words slipped from her lips she realised she had said more than she intended. ‘Keep it simple and short’ had been her plan. Since the break-up Molly just wanted to keep her life a closed book. Information to be provided on an as-needed basis. But again, she felt safe. Ryan was just her boss and things were professional and she didn’t need to worry.

Ryan swung around to collect his coffee, then back to Molly. ‘Nursing background? Now it makes sense.’ He nodded to himself. ‘I heard you speaking earlier to a patient, Jean Burton, and the level of detail in answering her questions about her blood-pressure medication was so much more information than an admin assistant or receptionist would, or for that matter generally could, provide.’

‘You haven’t seen my CV, then?’

‘No. The agency told me you were highly recommended but no in-depth details. To be honest I didn’t have the time to look through CVs last week. With Maxine’s accident I just needed a replacement asap so I had to trust them...and I’m glad I did,’ Ryan said as he pulled up a seat and put his freshly made coffee on the table before him. His long, lean fingers were comfortably wrapped around the hot mug.

It was at complete odds with how uncomfortable Molly was suddenly made by his decision to sit down with her. Everything she had told herself about him having no effect on her was being negated quickly.

‘Are you a registered nurse?’

‘I’m... I’m actually an anaesthetic nurse.’

‘Any reason you specialised in anaesthesia?’

‘I did a Theatre placement during my second year and realised that was where I wanted to be after graduating, so that’s what I did.’

He sat back in his seat, releasing his hands from the cup. ‘Then you are a very long way from home, Dorothy.’

His smile was wide and Molly sensed genuine. But it was also making her pulse pick up speed. She had to get it under control. She wasn’t sure how but she suspected distance might help.

‘Not so far, really,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I’m still working in the field of medicine...’

‘You are and, believe me, I’m not complaining,’ he cut in as he once again leaned forward.

To Molly’s horror he made the distance between them even less. His forest-fresh cologne brought a sudden tingling sensation to her skin.

‘Your medical experience is a huge benefit to my practice, but may I ask why you stepped away from Theatre?’

‘Long story and I won’t bore you. Just say that the temp hours suit me better.’

‘I shouldn’t imagine the remuneration would so much,’ he said matter-of-factly with a frown forming, replacing the previous light-hearted expression. ‘I suppose we stand a chance of losing you, then. I mean, if a better-paid gig came along in line with your experience, with the hours you want, then I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t, blame you for leaving.’

‘You don’t have to worry about that happening,’ she said, hoping her racing heart wasn’t making her blush. ‘If I make a promise or commitment I always keep it. This suits me just fine.’

‘In the interim perhaps, but long-term maybe not so much—’

‘Let’s not fudge words,’ Molly cut in, wanting to end the conversation. ‘I’m barely dry after four hours and my typing speed is twenty-nine words a minute. The average for a temp is over eighty. My strength is my medical background and you’re offering good hours. So, if you’re happy, I’m happy. It’s a great trade-off for both of us.’

‘I think you’re selling yourself short. While I have to agree you arrived a little soggy—I couldn’t help but overhear the hand-dryer running for ten minutes straight earlier on,’ he told her as he leant back on the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, giving her the space she suddenly realised she needed. ‘But I need more than a great typist in this practice and I think you’ll fit in extremely well. I’m astute enough to see what you’ve accomplished in a couple of hours. You’ve made changes I didn’t know were possible.’

‘It’s hardly rocket science but I’m happy you like what I’ve done. I’ve been here four hours so it wasn’t too difficult to make the changes. You had the software capability, it just needed to be utilised,’ Molly answered as she stood up. She had to create the space between them herself so she collected her bowl and cup, and made her way to the sink. She rolled her eyes at the way she had reacted having him so close. She dropped her bowl into the sudsy water in the sink. The unexpected effect he was having on her was absurd...and disconcerting. She wasn’t about to be swept off her feet. It was ridiculous. And risky. She had more to lose than gain by thinking that way about a man, let alone her boss, and she would never take a risk again.

‘Whether it’s been four hours or four weeks, you instinctively searched for ways to make improvements. It was like a four-hour quality-improvement audit. I never asked you to do that and no previous office manager has, no matter how long they were with me. But it was exactly what I needed. You, Molly Murphy, are exactly what I need and I would like to make it worth your while. In fact... I have a proposition for you.’

CHAPTER FOUR

A PROPOSITION?

Molly’s eyes darted about as she repeated the words in her head. What on earth could he be talking about? She felt quite sure it wasn’t the type of proposition that her body might be silently willing, if he got too close again.

It had to be business, but what? She had a job for a month. Once Maxine’s cast came off she’d return to work and Molly would leave. The practice was busy but not enough to warrant two in administration.

She turned around knowing she wore a curious look but she couldn’t hide it. His expression appeared serious and, damn, it made him look even more handsome. He was making her question so much about him and herself and it didn’t make sense. She was becoming even more unsettled and didn’t trust her reaction so she turned back to the sink. Grabbing for the sponge, she washed her cup and her bowl before she rinsed them both and placed them in the otherwise empty dish drainer. She needed something else to keep her busy and delay her turning back to him. Reaching into the warm shallows of the sink, she searched under the bubbles with her fingers for her spoon. Finding it quickly, she washed it thoroughly and rinsed it with the same attention before she put it in the drainer with the other things. Unfortunately, there was nothing else to wash and nothing else to do. There was effectively no way to stall.

She had no choice but to turn back around to the man who was stirring emotions she forgot she could feel. And those she never wanted to feel again. Hoping the feeling was fleeting and born from a mix of her initial job insecurity and gratitude to be in the role for a few weeks, Molly had hoped it would disappear as quickly as it had appeared. But looking at Ryan she knew it hadn’t gone or even dampened. It was still there. It felt a little like butterflies...and a lot like...she wasn’t sure. But she was confused. It didn’t make sense. She barely knew the man and she had sworn herself to a life without one. Men, particularly handsome, confident men like Ryan, brought only trouble into her life and she didn’t need any more. She also knew how bedraggled she appeared but for some reason the way he looked at her at that moment made her feel unexpectedly beautiful.

She quickly decided her mind was playing tricks on her. How could she possibly see something in Ryan other than as her boss within a matter of hours of meeting? That didn’t happen in real life. That was the stuff of movies. He and she were so very different. He was clearly established and on track with his life, and hers had derailed and she wasn’t sure when or even if it would ever truly be travelling in the right direction. Thanks to the man who she had planned to marry.

And she didn’t need to have her heart broken again.

Once was more than enough.

She noticed his jaw flick as his eyes slowly pulled away from hers. She sensed he hadn’t wanted to look away and that made her confusion grow and those damned butterflies in her stomach flutter manically. It was more than ridiculous. He was her employer, for goodness’ sake. Molly had noticed the absence of a wedding ring although she didn’t know why she’d registered that fact. She no longer cared about a man’s marital status. They were all off-limits in her mind. She couldn’t go there. She couldn’t let her feelings get the better of her. There was only room in her life for one man and that was Tommy. He had to be her sole focus. No one would ever get close enough to ruin their lives again. Her mind was racing and she appeared to have no control over her thought process.

Without warning, and with purposeful steps, he moved closer to the exit.

‘Molly, I can see you’re preoccupied, and I’ve got to get to my home visits, but I want to let you know that I’m proposing a thirty per cent pay increase immediately, I’ll call the agency from my car and let them know. And they’re not getting a cent of it—it’s all yours. You earned it and I hope that might keep you on board and not headhunted. I think you could make a real difference here. If I have anything to do with it, and if I can stop you from getting bored, you might just be with me long after this assignment.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.