Bachelor Dad, Girl Next Door
Sharon Archer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

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

Copyright

Born in New Zealand, Sharon Archer now lives in county Victoria, Australia, with her husband Glenn, one lame horse and five pensionable hens. Always an avid reader, she discovered Mills & Boon as a teenager through Lucy Walker’s fabulous Outback Australia stories. Now she lives in a gorgeous bush setting, and loves the native fauna that visits regularly…Well, maybe not the possum which coughs outside the bedroom window in the middle of the night.

The move to acreage brought a keen interest in bushfire management (she runs the fireguard group in her area), as well as free time to dabble in woodwork, genealogy (her advice is…don’t get her started!), horse-riding and motorcycling—as a pillion or in charge of the handlebars.

Free time turned into words on paper! And the dream to be a writer gathered momentum. With her background in a medical laboratory, what better line to write for than Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance?

CHAPTER ONE

LUKE DANIELS ran an idle glance over the sleek silver motorcycle stopped in the lane beside him at the traffic light. Through his closed windows he could hear the throb of the powerful engine. An unexpected spark of interest fought with deep unease.

It’d been years since seeing a bike had had any sort of effect on him. How odd that it should be now, when he was back in Port Cavill to stay—at least for the year-long term of his contract.

But perhaps that was why.

Port Cavill. The scene of his first medical failure.

‘Are we nearly there?’ His daughter’s sulky voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

‘Not far, Allie.’ He rolled his neck, feeling the tiredness and tension in his muscles.

‘Alexis,’ she corrected with all the disdain a ten-year-old could muster.

Luke stifled a sigh. He wasn’t popular and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Except get on a plane back to England.

Even the weather conspired to make things unpleasant. The earlier sunny heat had given way to oppressive humidity, which the car’s air-conditioning was struggling to cope with. Glowering banks of cloud still pressed down with the threat of more rain to come.

He studied Allie’s sullen profile and debated whether to point out again that they’d only be here for a year. Long enough for him to help his father get back on his feet. Long enough to seem like a lifetime in a child’s eyes. Times like this he longed for Sue-Ellen’s wise counsel. But his wife, Allie’s mother, had been buried two years ago. So loving, so giving. And too damned young to die.

‘That person on the bike’s waving at you, Dad. Who is it?’

He looked in the direction of Allie’s pointing finger.

‘I don’t know.’

The pillion passenger began pulling at the rider’s shoulder until the person must have retaliated with an admonition to keep still. Catching Allie’s eye, Luke smiled. ‘Kind of hard to tell with that helmet on, isn’t it?’

His daughter shrugged, letting him know a moment of shared humour couldn’t woo her.

The lights changed and the bike pulled away sedately enough to merge into his lane ahead. Following slowly, he allowed the distance to stretch because of the wet road. The pillion passenger turned to check behind. Luke shook his head in irritation. The action would shift the weight, unbalance the bike. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor rider.

Movement from a side road caught his peripheral vision. A car fishtailed into the intersection.

Had the motorcyclist seen it?

Heart pounding, hands clenched on the steering-wheel, he waited for the inevitable disaster. Suddenly the rider reacted, the brake light flicked on.

‘Too late,’ Luke muttered. ‘Counter-steer.’

A split second later, the rider obeyed his command. Relief quickly swooped into despair as the wheels skidded precariously on the slick surface.

In the time it took for rider to control the bike, graphic memories of another, less fortunate motorcycle leapt out of the past to assault him. A battered racer, twisted metal. The smell of hot tar and spilled petrol.

The smell of blood.

His cousin’s moans of pain.

A line of sweat chilled Luke’s upper lip as he remembered the helplessness. The hopelessness when he’d realised the extent of Kevin’s injuries. Nausea rolled through his stomach.

Super-sensitised now to the progress of the bike and the actions of the cars around it, Luke could feel irrational, burning anger growing. He’d successfully suppressed the anguish for the thirteen years since the accident. Now in the blink of an instant it was all there, raw and powerful.

He wished the rider would turn off so he could stop worrying about them but they were travelling inexorably in the same direction. Slowing more, he let the distance widen, until several other cars filled the gap.

By the time he got to his turn-off, they’d disappeared.

Relief was short-lived. He turned into his parents’ driveway to see the bike parked on the gravel.

Still helmeted and astride the machine, the rider seemed to be delivering a well-deserved lecture to the dismounted pillion passenger.

‘That’s Aunty Megan,’ said Allie.

Hell! Luke clenched his jaw as a cold chill swept his body. What was his baby sister doing hooning around Port Cavill on the back of a bloody motorcycle?

‘Stay here,’ he ordered his daughter as he flicked his seat-belt catch off.

He stalked towards the pair at the bike, relishing the thought of tearing strips off them after the fright they’d given him.

‘Luke!’ Megan launched herself at him, enveloping him in an enthusiastic hug. He clamped her close, intensely thankful for her vitality and safety. Determined to make sure she stayed that way. ‘We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.’

‘We came straight through from the airport,’ he said after a moment. Holding her away from him, he frowned. ‘Your bad luck I was here to see that stunt you and your friend here pulled back in town. You think I want to spend my first day home scraping you two off the road?’

‘Oh, don’t you start, too.’ Megan threw her hands up. ‘Terri was just going off at me about it.’

‘Yeah?’ Luke aimed a black look at the rider. ‘Maybe he’ll think twice before he takes you on the bike again.’

‘But Terri’s—’

‘In fact, let’s make that official.’ God, he’d been back in town for less than half an hour and he was already standing toe to toe with his sister. Part of his anger was tiredness. But most of it was fear. If he had the power to prevent it, he wasn’t going to lose another member of his family.

And this was definitely within his power. ‘You’re grounded.’

‘Honestly, Luke!’ Megan planted her hands on her hips.

‘Does Mum know what you’re up to?’

‘I’m nearly eighteen.’ Her chin jutted defiance as she glared at him.

‘Is that a no?’

‘No, it’s not a no. She doesn’t mind if I’m with Terri.’

‘She will after I’ve spoken to her,’ he said grimly.

‘But Terri’s a really careful rider.’

‘Too bad. I don’t want to see you on the back of this bike, any bike, again.’ He directed a narrow-eyed look at the rider.

Brown eyes, so dark they were nearly black, watched him. The hint of wry amusement in them had him clenching his jaw against a scathing comment.

The motorcyclist took off the padded gloves and began fiddling with the helmet strap.

Luke was reluctantly impressed that the boy was prepared to stay in the face of the conflict. ‘Look, Terry, this is a family argument. You don’t want to get involved, mate. All you need to know is Megan’s off the social circuit until further notice. There’s no point hanging around.’

‘Gee. That’s going to be kind of tough, Luke,’ said Megan smugly. ‘Since you guys are going to be working together.’

‘What?’ He turned on his sister. ‘You mean Mum’s letting you go out with one of the hospital staff?’

‘One of the doctors.’ The sly look she slanted him should have been a warning. ‘Terri’s taught me heaps.’

Luke felt his anger crank up several notches.

‘That’s a recommendation I can do without,’ said a husky feminine voice beside him.

The tirade he’d been about to unleash faltered on his tongue.

The rider slipped off the helmet and balanced it on the handlebars. Long black hair slithered over the protective leather jacket as the woman dismounted and turned to face him.

‘Hello, Luke. Long time, no see.’

‘Terri?’ He gaped, his stunned brain struggling to put the name together with the evidence before his eyes. ‘Theresa O’Connor.’

‘Close enough. How are you?’ She held out a hand and he stared at it stupidly for a long moment.

‘Bloody hell. Theresa O’Connor.’ He used her hand to tug her into a hug. It was quick, lasting only a second. Meant to be social, asexual. Nothing to precipitate the volcanic heat that swept through him.

He swallowed and set her away at arm’s length.

Her continued stillness, her composure, unsettled him out of all proportion. Especially the small smile curving her lips.

Suddenly, Luke remembered the last time he’d seen her. On the moonlit beach at the bottom of the hospital grounds. Could it really have been twelve years ago? The memory felt too intense. She hadn’t been so calm then. Though neither had he. He’d just kissed her.

He focussed on her mouth. Those lovely full lips had been soft and hesitant then eager, even demanding, beneath his.

Until he’d pushed her away.

He blinked and dragged his gaze back to hers. She stepped away, unruffled by their contact except for a tell-tale wariness in her eyes. ‘It’s Terri Mitchell these days.’

‘Yes, of course.’ He had so many questions but he felt oddly tongue-tied. His body’s unexpected response to her, that hot fizz of recognition, left him unbalanced.

His memory tripped in with details supplied over the years by his mother and Theresa’s brother, Ryan. Theresa was widowed, her husband killed when they’d been working with an aid organisation in Africa. An explosion. She’d been injured, too.

He cleared his throat before speaking into the lengthening silence. ‘Theresa, I was sorry to—’

‘No harm done.’ She cut him off quickly, a tiny flare of dismay in her dark chocolate eyes. The smile on her lips looked stiff, unnatural and he realised her misunderstanding had been deliberate. Theresa didn’t want to hear his words of condolence.

She glanced behind him, her smile warming. ‘You must be Alexis. Your grandmother’s told me all about you.’

‘Alexis, this is an old friend of the family.’ Luke drew his daughter forward, leaving his arm across her shoulders as he made the introductions. He was pleasantly surprised when she leaned into his side instead of shrugging him off.

She glowed under Theresa’s attention. Gone was the surly, uncooperative child of mere minutes ago.

Theresa’s serene surface was so firmly in place, the moment of panic seemed as though it was a figment of his imagination. Still, there was something…a hint of sadness shadowing her eyes and smile. With her attention on Allie, he could see it much more clearly.

After a few minutes, Theresa said, ‘I’ll leave you all to catch up properly.’

‘Mum said for you to come to tea tonight, Terri,’ Megan said.

‘Oh. Thank your mum for me, Megan, but I have some paperwork to do before tomorrow. See you later, Alexis.’ Her friendly smile faded as she raised her eyes to his. ‘Luke.’

He wondered if her refusal of the dinner invitation was because of his arrival or if the paperwork excuse was genuine.

She mounted the bike, slid the helmet over her luxurious hair. Her long slender fingers worked quickly to buckle the strap beneath her chin before she reached out to turn the key in the ignition. The machine throbbed to life.

Much to Luke’s surprise, she rode down the extended driveway beside his parents’ house.

‘So, I guess that means I can keep riding with Terri,’ Megan said.

He sent her a noncommittal look. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Luke!’

He grinned at her wailed protest and slid his question in casually. ‘Is Theresa staying in the beach cottage?’

‘Terri. She prefers Terri.’

‘Terri, then.’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Uh-huh. She’s been renting it since she came back.’

He wondered why his mother hadn’t told him when she’d been giving him updates on the latest Port Cavill gossip.

‘And that was, what, six months ago?’

‘About.’ Megan shrugged.

‘It’s a hovel.’

‘That’s when you used to live there, Luke. Terri’s done it up.’

‘Really.’ Perhaps he might find an opportunity to wander down for a visit, see how his old bachelor pad had scrubbed up. Learn more about the intriguing tenant…

Or perhaps not.

He was here for a year and would have his hands full with the hospital, his father and Allie. Meeting Terri again like this had tipped him out of kilter, that was all. He was tired, maybe even a little jet-lagged. Not thinking straight.

The last thing he needed was to complicate his life. Especially with someone who must thrive on excitement if the bike and her previous job were anything to judge by.

Seeing her had plunged him into an odd time warp where he relived their kiss on the beach. Could it really have been twelve years ago? He hadn’t treated her particularly well that night, rejecting her soft sympathy, allowing his bitterness and guilt over his cousin’s death to colour the things he’d said.

Still, she was obviously made of stern stuff. She’d gone on to do her medical training.

He’d had no interest in women during the two and a half years since Sue-Ellen’s death. How damned inconvenient that the sexual spark missing in his life since then should choose to wake up now.

In Port Cavill. Of all places.

With a colleague. Someone he needed to work with for the next year. The time and place and person couldn’t be worse.

Terri parked the bike beside the cottage, thankful to have made the short journey without disgracing herself by stalling or missing a gear. Or dropping the bike. She huffed out a long breath before putting down the stand and dismounting on shaky legs.

Luke was back.

Helmet tucked under one arm, she collected her handbag from the top box. She’d known he was coming home, of course. Most of the Daniels family had been in a happy buzz of anticipation for the last couple of weeks.

Except for Will Daniels. He’d been upset that, despite his recommendation, the board had appointed Luke to the position of hospital director. A position she’d been acting in since Will’s myocardial infarct. Worse was that the notification had only come yesterday.

Terri had stifled her disappointment so she could reassure her convalescing boss that it didn’t matter.

But it did matter. She’d been relishing the responsibility. It was good for her, challenging, restoring her sense of self. Giving her a much-needed focus for her shattered life.

She sighed. Perhaps even more distressing was her ridiculous fluttery reaction to Luke. How long had it been since she’d felt that disturbing feminine awareness of a man? Such lightness had had no place in her life for so many years. To have it now felt wrong, frivolous.

She crossed to the door and let herself into the cottage. Her hand lingered on her helmet for a moment after she’d placed it on the hall-stand. When Luke had confronted her and Megan, the temptation to stay inside the fibreglass dome and hide behind the smoky Perspex visor had been overwhelming. Behaviour much more in keeping with the starry-eyed teenager she’d been last time they’d met.

Why couldn’t she have been caught on the ward, performing some marvellously complex medical procedure? Saving lives, saving the world, she mocked herself silently. That would have been too perfect.

She slipped off her jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. Naturally, Luke had to arrive a day early, catch her kitted out in motorcycle leathers and then mistake her for Megan’s boyfriend.

Still, she thought she’d handled the meeting with reasonable aplomb. Thanks to the helmet, she’d had a chance to gather her wits a little before revealing herself. If anything, it had been Luke who’d been nonplussed. Embarrassed by his mistake probably.

He’d hugged her. Spontaneously. She wrapped her arms around her body, remembering the feel of his firm hold, his torso pressed to hers for those long seconds. Not that it meant anything. The Daniels family was naturally, delightfully, demonstrative.

Unlike the O’Connors.

Unlike the Mitchells. Her husband’s family had saved their affections for their causes. And those they’d pursued with dedication and passion. No sacrifice too great. She grimaced, chiding herself for her disloyalty. Hating the bitterness of her thoughts.

In the kitchen, she filled the kettle. While she waited for the water to boil, she scanned the scrubby trees that bordered the back yard. The sandy path to the beach was well hidden. Astounding that she’d had the temerity to follow Luke down the track all those years ago. What a crush she’d had on him, poor sad child that she’d been.

She shook her head then spooned a scant teaspoon of coffee into a mug.

That was the past. This was now and she wasn’t an angstridden teenager any more.

She’d been married…and widowed. The explosion that killed her husband had ripped her life apart. She’d come to Port Cavill to give herself a chance to recover, to regroup. She’d come here for peace. Nothing more.

As she contemplated the future, she pursed her lips.

Stepping into the role of director had given her a new sense of purpose. She’d been doing a damned good job even if the paperwork part of the job wasn’t her forte.

Now she had to step aside.

Gracefully.

Luke’s return was difficult on so many levels. Peace would be in short supply while he was around.

She sighed. At least, their first meeting was over now. Next time she encountered him, she’d be working for him.

CHAPTER TWO

DRESSED only in jeans, Luke stood in the darkened room at the back of the house and stared moodily across the moonlit lawn. He could make out the hump of the small cottage sheltered by trees at the edge of the lawn.

Theresa’s place. No, not Theresa—Terri.

Was she tucked up, asleep? He glanced at his watch. Half past one in the morning. He’d be willing to bet she wasn’t lying awake thinking about him, the way he was about her.

He leaned his forearm on the wooden window-frame and contemplated his reaction to her that afternoon. Surely, it had to be a product of his recent upheavals—the move, travelling, worry over his father and Alexis.

He’d had eight happy years of marriage to Sue-Ellen. He’d loved his wife, damn it. During all the time they’d been together and since she’d died, he hadn’t looked at another woman.

Yet one tiny and very public hug with Terri had evoked such a powerful memory that he’d been swept back twelve years to the last time he’d held her in his arms. To a five-minute interlude on the beach.

Ridiculous. Potentially disastrous.

Luke rubbed his jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble. Perhaps he was over-thinking this. Perhaps it merely demonstrated that it was time he did start thinking about a relationship. Or at least start preparing Allie for the possibility that he might one day date. Bring someone, a woman, into the family. He tried to picture that day but long dark silky hair and hot chocolate eyes stayed stubbornly in his mind.

He gave up, let his thoughts dwell on the brief meeting that afternoon. The way Terri had deflected his condolences made him wonder about her. Was her grief still raw? Did she suffer any long-term post-traumatic stress symptoms? A gnawing ache settled in his chest for the pain she’d been through. He could only begin to imagine the difficulty of losing someone the way she had. So brutal and sudden.

He and Allie had had time with Sue-Ellen. Poignant time for words of love, reassurances, promises. Heartbreaking but enriching moments to cling to in the days, weeks, years that followed her death.

Terri hadn’t had that. She’d had no chance to say goodbye before her husband had been snatched away.

He needed to be mindful of that, sensitive to her needs, and be ready to offer counselling, in a professional capacity, if she needed it. As hospital director, the welfare of his staff was paramount. He was feeling the natural concern of a doctor for a colleague. Plus Terri wasn’t just a colleague, but the sister of a friend. The least he could do was offer support to Ryan O’Connor’s sister. Yes, that was more like it. He just needed to apply a bit of sound reasoning.

Through the loosely screening shrubbery, he saw the lights of the cottage come on. Almost as though the intensity of his musings had woken Terri.

He snorted out a small breath. How hopelessly fanciful. So much for the power of common sense.

A few minutes later, she walked across to the hospital in the moonlight. The ends of a stethoscope looped around her neck dangled darkly on her pale T-shirt. She seemed to look up at his window. A queer shaft of excitement made him draw a quick breath before he could block it.

One tiny glance from her and his heart was flopping around in his chest like a freshly caught flounder. He shook his head in disgust.

Terri was obviously the doctor on call tonight.

As his system settled, he watched her disappear through the back door of the hospital and then reappear in the glass-walled corridor. By angling his head, he could follow her progress until she turned the corner leading to Accident and Emergency.

He should go back to bed and yet something held him at the window. A moment later, slow revolutions of light—blue, red, blue, red—began flickering off walls and gutters, signalling the arrival of an emergency vehicle on the other side of the building.

He straightened and, moving quietly, walked back through to the main house to find a T-shirt.

Since sleep was so elusive tonight, he might as well spend the time working with his new colleague. Pro-pinquity in a hospital setting would be the best cure for this inconvenient fascination. Baggy, unflattering clothing, surgical caps, masks, booties. That should take the edge off her appeal quick smart. For his sanity, he needed to start the therapy now. Familiarity bred contempt—he had to believe it.

Anticipation quickened his pace as he retraced her footsteps along the silent hospital corridor.

No sign of any staff in the casualty waiting room. The ambulance was gone. He skirted the main desk and entered the treatment area.

A pale-faced woman sat in an open cubicle clutching a bowl, her eyes closed and head tilted back to rest against the wall.

The nurse attending the woman turned and frowned.

‘I’m sorry, sir, you must stay in the waiting room and ring the bell if you need to see the doctor.’ She yanked the curtain of the cubicle closed as she came towards him.

‘Is Dr Mitchell around?’

‘Yes, but you must—’

‘I’m Luke Daniels. The new director. And you are?’

‘Oh, Dr Daniels.’ The line of her mouth thinned even further. ‘I’m Dianne Mills, one of the nurses. Terri’s busy with an urgent case at the moment.’

‘I’m here to help. Where is she?’

‘I’ll take you through to her.’ The woman’s subtle unfriend-liness seemed to say that his assistance wasn’t required or particularly welcome.

Luke smiled grimly as he grabbed a gown from the shelf and followed her. Maybe she was right. Judging by the praise heaped on her by his parents, Terri was a very competent doctor. She’d recognised the signs of his father’s myocardial infarct even though Will Daniels had insisted it was just indigestion. What had the stubborn old cuss been thinking? A call to the cardiologist had confirmed that Terri’s prompt actions had minimised damage to the cardiac muscle. Tests had shown life-threatening partial occlusions in several other vessels and his father had been whisked in for triple bypass surgery.

‘What’s the urgent case?’ he asked as he tugged the gown over his clothes.

‘An unconscious teen brought in by two friends. The girls couldn’t wake her when they got her home. We’ve got food poisoning cases coming in as well. I was just about to call for back-up.’ She sent him a speculative look.

‘I’ll cover.’ He smiled. ‘We can reassess later with Dr Mitchell if necessary.’

Dianne nodded. Her brief response wasn’t encouraging. Perhaps he needed to work on his people skills.

They were still a distance from a closed curtain when Luke heard a young woman’s clipped voice say, ‘I thought she should sleep it off.’

‘But I s-said we should b-bring her here,’ added a second, shakier female voice. ‘Even th-though it’s, like, two o’clock in the morning.’

‘You’ve made the right decision for your cousin.’ Terri’s even husky tones sent a light shiver over his skin. Sudden doubt needled at the belief that familiarity with her would help him. He swallowed.

‘Are you sure she hasn’t take anything? Drugs?’ Terri asked.

‘Um, sh-she—’

‘No, of course not,’ said the aggressive voice of the first girl. ‘Never.’

Luke stepped through the gap in the curtain and took in the situation with a sweeping glance.

Two young women in their late teens stood to one side of a gurney. Dressed to the nines in their party clothes, heavy make-up smudged beneath their eyes and an array of coloured streaks adorned their heads. He caught the tail end of the ferocious glare the taller of the two girls used to browbeat her friend.

Terri’s eyes lifted to his briefly in a moment of intense silent communication. It was obvious she didn’t believe the girls’ denial. Her eyes slid away and she moved to the head of the gurney where she bent over the patient, laryngoscope in hand.

‘Temperature up another half-degree to forty-one point five, Terri,’ said a nurse as she pulled up the patient’s skimpy knitted top and placed the diaphragm of her stethoscope on the pale skin.

‘Thanks, Nina.’ Terri glanced up. ‘Dianne, could you get us some ice packs, stat.’

‘On my way.’ Dianne slipped out of the curtained cubicle.

Keeping an eye on the activity at the gurney, Luke crossed to the teens. ‘I’m Dr Luke Daniels,’ he said calmly. ‘You’re on your way home from a party?’

‘A rave.’ The taller girl gave him a superior look. She was busily chewing gum and her eyes had the dilated pupils of someone who’d taken some sort of substance. ‘Over at Portland.’

‘Apical pulse one forty. BP seventy over forty. Sats seventy per cent.’ Folding her stethoscope, the nurse turned away to collect a monitor from the side of the room.

Luke turned his attention to the other teen. ‘Was your friend able to walk out of the rave on her own?’

‘We—we kind of, um, had to h-help her.’

‘Was she talking to you then?’

‘N-no.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Terri slide in the endotracheal tube.

‘Airway in. Ready for the ventilator, Nina.’ She straightened, moving aside so the nurse could attach the unit.

Stepping back around the gurney, Terri unwound her stethoscope and listened to both sides of the patient’s chest and her abdomen.

Luke looked back at the shorter girl shivering beside him. Deliberately holding her eyes, he said gently, ‘We need you to be honest and tell us how long ago she took something. Was it a tablet?’

‘Th-three hours.’

‘Shona!’

‘Well, sh-she did. We all did. They were only l-little pills, j-just to give us a b-boost.’

‘Thank you for your honesty,’ said Luke, touching her arm to reassure her.

‘They were only Es,’ said the taller girl, tossing her head. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me and Shona so it can’t be the that.’

‘Those so-called party drugs affect everyone differently.’ Luke clenched his teeth against the urge to shake some sense into the girl. ‘You two have been lucky. You’re friend hasn’t.’

‘J-Jessie had leukaemia. When she was a kid. Is that why she’s so sick now?’

A wave of despair at their folly cramped his chest and stomach. He was aware of Terri’s eyes on him, but he refused to meet her gaze. He didn’t need to see the pity that she undoubtedly felt for him.

‘She’s g-going to be okay, isn’t she?’

‘We’re doing everything we can for her.’ He ushered them towards the curtain. ‘We’ll get you to wait outside.’

Dianne came back in with cloths and the cold packs.

‘I’ll organise those, Dianne, thanks,’ said Luke, taking them from her. ‘Can you show the girls to a room where they can wait, and get next-of-kin information from them, please?’

‘C-could we have something to drink?’

Luke met the nurse’s concerned eyes. ‘A glass of fruit juice for them, please, Dianne, and perhaps see if there’s an apple or two in the staffroom.’

As Dianne showed the girls out, Terri said, ‘I’m going to have to set up a central line for fluids.’

‘Right. You scrub, we’ll monitor Jessie and get your equipment set up,’ he said, wrapping the cold packs and placing them in Jessie’s groin and armpits.

He’d organised a trolley with the required sterile packs by the time Terri had finished at the sink.

‘Gown, gloves.’ He nodded to the second trolley.

The soft rustling noises as she gowned up tormented him while he concentrated on opening the catheterisation kit and dropping drapes onto the sterile work surface.

‘Do me up, please?’

He turned to see her encased head to toe in surgical green, her elbows bent and gloved hands held relaxed in front of her, maintaining her sterile working space.

He knotted the straps at the nape of her neck, then reached down to do the same at her waist. The warmth he could feel on the tops of his fingers made them clumsy. Try as he may, he couldn’t close his mind to the enticing curve of the small of her back.

She turned to face him.

Brown eyes, huge and dark, stared at him from above her mask. His breathing hitched. He was a fool to think hospital clothing would instantly dissolve Terri’s appeal. He’d never seen anyone look quite as…sexy while preparing for an aseptic procedure.

‘Luke?’

He blinked, looked down to see she was handing him the tab for the outside string. She turned in front of him and took back the string. ‘Thanks.’

He swallowed. Perhaps he should have gone back to bed after all. Let Dianne call in the emergency back-up. Turning away, he snipped across the shoulder of Jessie’s top, exposing her clavicle and neck.

Nina came back with a bag of saline and began to set up the drip monitor.

A moment later, Dianne stuck her head around the curtain. ‘I’ve got contact details for Jessie’s mother. They’re down from Melbourne, staying with relatives for the weekend.’

‘Thanks, Dianne. I’ll make the call now.’ He took the paper from her and went to the phone. With the line ringing at the other end, Luke tucked the receiver under his ear.

‘Terri, the ambos are at your uncle’s place,’ Dianne said. ‘He’s aggressive and hypotensive. They’re concerned about trying to establish an IV so I suggested they scoop and run.’

‘Good idea,’ Terri said. ‘How’s Mary going with the rest of the race-picnic follow-ups?’

‘All done now,’ Dianne said. ‘She’s just managed to get through to Matt in Garrangay about the Macintoshes. I’ll go and set up a cubicle for your uncle.’

‘Thanks, Dianne,’ Terri said. ‘Nina, can you see if there’s any word from the lab tech on call? We’ll really need to be able to run some bloods through tonight.’

‘Will do.’

Luke pressed redial when the ring tone timed out. With the receiver held to his ear he turned to look in Terri’s direction. Her work was quick, neat, methodical. He congratulated himself on being able to view her nimble fingers with detachment. Sure, she was a pleasure to watch but, then, he always enjoyed seeing someone perform a task well. The peculiar feelings that keep threatening to muddle his mind when he was close to her, had to be a product of his stressful few weeks organising his trip back here.

‘Hello?’ The sleepy voice pulled his attention back to the phone. A short time later, he hung the receiver back on the wall cradle and allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes. Weariness washed through him as his sympathy went out to Jessie’s mother. What a nightmare for a parent.

He straightened and turned around to find Terri’s eyes on him as she stripped off her gloves and mask. The beauty she brought to the everyday movements stopped the words in his mouth.

‘She’s on her way in?’

‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat, relieved when muscles moved back to normal function. Stepping back to the side of the gurney, he said, ‘Her brother’s bringing her in.’

Terri moved to stand beside him. Even with the pervasive smells of the hospital, he was piercingly aware of the subtle scent of soap she brought with her. Of her vitality, her fine-boned femininity, the warmth in her dark eyes.

‘This must have been a hard case for you on your first night here.’

His mind abruptly went back to the night of the kiss, the parallels with the sympathy she’d shown him then. He wanted it just as little now. He wasn’t sure what it was that he did want from her—but he knew it wasn’t that.

He rolled his shoulders. ‘It’s always hard seeing someone as young as Jessie taking risks like this with the rest of her life.’

‘Yes.’ Her lashes lowered, but not before he’d seen a quick flash of hurt at his brush-off.

An apology hovered on his tongue. Instead, he picked up Jessie’s chart and began detailing her treatment. ‘We’re looking at an ICU transfer for her?’

‘I haven’t made the call yet. The first priority was getting her stabilised.’ Her voice was all cool business. He must have imagined the moment of vulnerability.

He nodded and recorded another complete set of observations. The girl seemed to be holding her own, with her oxygen saturation and blood pressure markedly improved. Her temperature was steady. ‘You’ve done a good job, Terri.’

The curtain rattled beside them. ‘Terri, your uncle’s two minutes away.’

‘Thanks, Dianne. Be right there.’

‘You happy to take Mick’s case?’ Luke asked, glancing at her as he slotted his pen into the shirt pocket under his gown.

‘Yes, of course.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll call the air ambulance, organise Jessie’s transfer.’

‘The number’s on the wall by the phone.’ Terri turned to leave. He couldn’t stop his gaze from following her for the few paces it took her to clear the cubicle.

He breathed out a sigh, aware of the odd tension ebbing from his body with her disturbing presence gone. His physiology was more like that of a teenager.

He was a grown man.

A widower, with a daughter.

He dragged a hand down his face. The effect she had on him had to wear off.

Soon. For his sanity, it had to be soon.

Terri hurried through the department, confusion churning through her stomach. Luke had shut her out. Just as he had all those years ago on the beach. Well, what had she expected? They weren’t friends. Ryan had been his friend. She was just Ryan’s bratty little sister. It was probably all the years of hero worship and then that kiss on the beach that made her feel as though she knew Luke better than she did.

She sighed. Still, he’d be good to work for—which was a relief. She could see that much from this short stint. It had been a pleasure the way he’d fitted in so well, picking up the reins, knowing what she needed and facilitating treatment. He’d deferred to her position as the doctor on call while still commanding respect from everyone in the cubicle. The nurses, the teens, herself.

The teens’ rebellion had melted away in the face of his charm, information just flowing out of them under his non-judgemental questioning. The way he’d spoken with Jessie’s mother had been wonderful, his velvety voice so full of compassion and caring.

And he’d complimented her handling of the case. In all the years of working with Peter, her husband had never done that.

Luke’s praise meant a lot.

More than it should.

Not good! Scratch the surface and there was still a really bad case of hero worship going on underneath.

She was going to have to keep clear of him as much as possible—at work and away from it. Which might be difficult as she lived at the bottom of his parents’ garden.

Still, she had no reason to think that he would seek her out. She’d been the one doing the chasing all those years ago—even if she hadn’t realised it at the time. Things were different now. She wasn’t chasing anyone. She had enough on her plate.

To try to find her courage.

To learn to like the woman she was.

CHAPTER THREE

TERRI met the ambulance at the door, desperately trying to look as professional as possible. Her uncle lay still and pale, his beloved face slightly distorted beneath the oxygen mask. A large white dressing was taped to his forehead. Seeing him like this made her heart twist but she pushed the feeling away. He needed her competence now, not her love.

Frank began his handover as they wheeled the trolley through to the treatment room. She was aware of Dianne and the police sergeant following them.

Between them, they transferred him to the hospital gurney.

Frank stepped back and continued his report. ‘There was a smashed bottle of beer on the floor. Looks like he’d slipped in it and hit his head on the corner of the sink. I’ve dressed the laceration on his forehead. It hadn’t bled much,’ he said. ‘We found him sitting against the kitchen cupboard. After we got the go-ahead to scoop and run, all the fight went out of him. He’s been as quiet as a lamb.’

‘Okay, thanks, Frank.’ Terri leaned over her patient, her hand on his shoulder as she tried to rouse him. ‘Uncle Mick? Open your eyes if you can hear me.’

The lashes flicked up and his dry lips stretched into a smile that was more of a grimace. He fumbled with the mask and Terri helped him pull it away, noting the sweetish, ketotic odour of his breath.

‘Tee.’ He used his nickname for her and for some reason that gave her an instant of misgiving. Should she have stayed with Jessie, handed this case over to Luke as he’d offered? ‘What’re you doing here, love?’

She shook off the doubt. Responsibility for the emergency department was hers tonight. Luke being here was a bonus, not an opportunity to get him to deal with her family. ‘Do you remember what happened, Uncle Mick?’

But his eyes closed again and he mumbled an indistinct response.

‘BP is ninety over sixty,’ said Dianne.

‘Right.’ Terri slipped her stethoscope on and listened to the irregular rhythm of his heartbeat. ‘Let’s get an ECG going, please, Dianne.’

As the nurse snipped off his T-shirt and began attaching the leads, Terri slipped a tourniquet on Mick’s arm and bent over his hand. After a moment, she moved on to his wrist and then quickly to his elbow. Beneath her fingertips she could feel the tell-tale springiness of a small vein. Good enough to establish an intravenous line? She hoped so. It would be so much quicker and less complicated than putting in a central line. The sooner Mick started rehydrating, the sooner they could get him stabilised. ‘I’m going to put a needle in your arm, Uncle Mick.’

She slipped the cannula into place and released the tourniquet, permitting herself a moment of relief as she taped it securely. She carefully drew off a syringe of blood. ‘How’s that ECG looking?’

‘Typical hypokalaemic changes,’ replied a deep voice.

Luke.

Terri took a breath, willing her heart to settle. Surely Jessie hadn’t been picked up already.

‘Nina’s specialling Jessie,’ he said as though he’d read her mind. ‘She’ll call me if she needs me. The transfer chopper is still half an hour away.’

She glanced over to where he examined the ECG strip. He tilted the readout so she could see the flattened T peaks. ‘Thanks. It’s what I expected. Let’s get him started on normal saline IV with thirty millimoles of potassium.’

‘I’m on it.’ Dianne pivoted away to the bench.

Luke held out his hand for the syringe. ‘The lab tech’s in. You’ll want a priority on the electrolytes and glucose. When they can for the CBC, urea and creatinine?’

‘Yes, please. Thanks.’

She’d just opened her mouth to add a request when he said, ‘I’ll organise a strip reading for the blood glucose so you can set the insulin infusion.’

‘Right.’ There it was again—that intuitive understanding of her work rhythm. It was fantastic and a little unnerving. With anyone else, she was sure she’d have revelled in the experience. But because it was Luke, there seemed to be a level of intimacy associated with it that she badly needed to deny. But what could she say? Stop reading my mind—stop doing such a great job? Terri shrugged mentally and settled for ‘Thanks.’

She turned back to her patient and flicked on her pen torch. ‘I’m going to shine a light in your eyes, Uncle Mick.’

She lifted each eyelid and watched as the pupils in the deep brown irises expanded and contracted readily. Equal and reactive. At least it looked like he didn’t have a head injury to complicate things further.

‘Blood sugar, twenty-three,’ said Luke.

‘Okay.’

Dianne appeared beside her. The nurse reeled off the potassium level in the saline bag then held it so Terri could check the label.

‘Correct,’ Terri said.

She walked around to the other side of the gurney so she could more easily examine the wound on his forehead. ‘I want to have a look at your cut, Uncle Mick.’

‘Fluids set, Terri,’ said Dianne.

‘Thanks.’

A jagged flap of skin had curled back from the triangular laceration but the area looked quite clean. A simple irrigation and suturing job.

‘No! No!’ Her quiescent patient erupted into unexpected action. So quick. One moment she was lifting the dressing and the next she was flying across the room. In slow motion she watched the horror on Frank and Dianne’s faces from the other side of the gurney, their hands uselessly reaching towards her. She saw the sergeant step forward, his mouth tight as he restrained her flailing patient.

Any moment now she was going to hit the floor. Paradoxical that she had so much time to notice everyone’s expressions but none to organise her limbs to save herself from the inevitable painful sprawl.

But it didn’t happen.

Hands reached her, catching her from behind, cradling her against a hard, warm body. Her uncle lay back down in the milliseconds in which she struggled to understand what had happened. She turned her head and looked up into Luke’s grim face. How had he managed to get across the room to save her?

‘Are you all right?’

Pain bloomed in her cheekbone, replacing the numbness of a second ago. His face dissolved and she realised her eyes were tearing up. ‘Yes. Thanks.’

She tried to move away but his hands held her firmly, preventing her escape. Short of an undignified struggle, she was helpless to free herself. Luke was so large and hot and solid. She felt fragile. Insubstantial. Utterly feminine.

Though it must have only been seconds, time seemed elastic, stretching to allow her to feel every square inch of contact. He turned her slightly. She could feel his bracing arm behind her back, the fingers that curved around the top of her arm.

‘Go and get some ice on that.’ He sounded gruff. His eyes, still fixed on her face, were dark.

She blinked the tears into submission, embarrassed at this sign of weakness. ‘I have a patient to attend to.’

‘I’m taking over.’

‘I need to—’

‘You need to stand down and let someone else handle this, Dr Mitchell.’ His voice lowered, losing its sternness. ‘I can feel you trembling, Terri. You need to go and sit down.’

Her defiance ebbed away, making her realise how shaken she felt. ‘Yes. Okay.’

He frowned suddenly and tilted his head to look at her more closely. His fingers tightened on her flesh. ‘You have a slight nosebleed.’

‘Do I?’ As soon as she spoke, she could feel the trickle just below her nostril. Knowing there was physical evidence of her injury made her feel even more vulnerable. An uncomfortable sensation.

She pulled out of his grip and this time he released her.

‘Go and clean up. I’ll finish here then come and have a look at you.’ He turned back to her uncle on the gurney.

She hesitated briefly, then realised that the others had meshed into a team around Luke to treat her uncle. She spun on her heel and left the room.

‘I found you at last.’

At the sound of Luke’s voice from behind her, Terri jumped. The boxes of twelve-gauge needles she’d been handling scattered across the shelf.

‘I wasn’t hiding,’ she said, not entirely truthfully. How long had he been standing there, watching her?

‘Hmm. How are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine.’ When she’d re-stacked the boxes and regained some of her composure, she turned. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded, one foot crossed over the other. A plain black T-shirt stretched over the chest she’d so recently been clamped against.

‘Good. Let’s have a look at you, then, shall we?’ A slow smile curved his mouth as though he read her reluctance and thought it amusing.

‘I don’t think we need to. But thank you anyway,’ she said, shooting him a discouraging stare.

She’d never appreciated how absurdly claustrophobic the long narrow room was with the well-stocked shelves towering along the walls. It was all his fault, of course, the way he was blocking the only exit.

‘I think we might let me be the judge of that.’ His smile took on a distinctly determined edge. ‘Just think of it as my self interest.’

Terri picked up her clipboard and hugged it tightly in front of her torso. ‘Self interest? In what way?’

‘If I don’t think you’re up to it, I’ll take over the rest of your shift.’

He waited with an expression of polite interest as she thought of and discarded several weak excuses.

‘Oh, all right. Let’s get it over with, then,’ she muttered. The thought of his hands on her, even in a professional capacity, was nerve-racking. The imprint of their earlier contact still plagued her. Her back to his chest, his fingers on her arms as he turned her…

She forced down a swallow and pushed away the distracting memory. ‘Where do you want to do it?’

He raised a brow and his lips tilted.

She felt heat leap through her system. Oh, God, had she really said that? Please, let the floor open up and swallow her now. ‘The exam.’

‘Cubicle three is empty.’ Still grinning, he moved to one side and stood with his back pressed against the shelf. Did he think she was going to squeeze past him? No way.

‘After you.’

He shrugged. ‘Sure.’

She breathed a sigh when he moved but it was short-lived relief. With his back to her, she could appreciate the broadness of his shoulders, the way his torso tapered to his waist and hips, the long, long legs, the easy way he moved. Her mouth felt suddenly dry.

Just outside the door, he turned, looking back at her, one brow raised quizzically. She realised her feet were still planted in the middle of the supply-room floor. Silently cursing her distraction, she tightened her fingers on the clipboard and hurried to catch up.

She walked stiffly to the curtained area, aware of him striding beside her. His lithe, trim body moving smoothly. Unlike her limbs, which felt all angles and awkward gracelessness.

Perched on the edge of the bed, she watched him bend to wash his hands. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the denim pulling over the line of his buttocks. When he straightened to rip a piece of paper towel from the dispenser, she looked away quickly.

As he stepped in front of her, she let the deep breath she’d taken trickle out. This was a professional examination, one colleague of another.

Hospital director of staff doctor.

It would only take a few minutes.

‘Look past me. You know the drill, hmm? Focus on a point on the wall.’ He raised his hand and shone a thin beam of light into her eyes.

‘Have you had bleeding from the nose before?’

‘Um, a couple of times.’ She was acutely aware of his face near hers as he assessed her pupil.

‘Recently?’

‘No.’

‘How long ago?’ He moved to her other eye and again bent towards her to do the examination.

‘Oh, um. Years.’ Then she remembered the exact occasion.

The landmine blast which had killed Peter.

And killed her future. Nausea rushed down on her, sweat popped out of her pores leaving her clammy and chilled. ‘It…was…um, a—a couple of years.’

There was a small silence.

‘Are you all right, Terri? You’ve gone very pale.’

The blood abruptly rushed back to her head, filling her face with heat, sweeping away the faintness.

‘Yes. Yes. Really, I’m fine.’ At least he hadn’t commented on her stumbling hesitation. ‘You—you asked about nosebleeds. It’s been a couple of years.’

‘Nothing since?’ He frowned as he straightened up, seeming to weigh her response for dissimulation.

She looked away from the measuring blue eyes. The last of the nausea receded. ‘No.’

‘How heavy were your previous bleeds?’

She frowned and pulled back, pulling herself together at the same time. ‘I’ve had a tiny nosebleed here, not an arterial haemorrhage.’

‘Yes, of course.’ He appeared to shake himself mentally as he slipped the penlight back into his top pocket. ‘I’m going to examine your cheek.’

‘Fine,’ she said through tight lips, closing her eyes, hoping to shut him out, so close, so threatening to her peace of mind. A rustle of fabric, the tiniest feather of air across her skin. Had he moved closer? Just the thought made her heart kick into a frantic, irregular rhythm. She was too scared to open her eyes to check.

A few tense seconds passed. Why didn’t he just get on with it?

Then the subtle torture began. Gentle probing fingers travelled down her nose, across her cheekbone, around her eye socket.

Nasal bone, glabella, maxilla, zygomatic.

Breathe in and out. In and out. Perhaps if she recited the muscles. There were so many of them…

She couldn’t think of a single name.

Closing her eyes had been a bad idea. Sure, it meant she couldn’t see him but the other sensory information was overwhelming. The heat of his body reached out to her. His smell—part soap, part tantalising masculine musk—surrounded her. Small whispery sounds of each inhalation, exhalation. How much more measured and normal his breathing was than hers.

His touch was warm and deft. The skin beneath his fingertips was alive with nerve endings. Nearby cells seemed to quiver in anticipation of their turn.

She swallowed, feeling so thoroughly shaken now that she didn’t dare open her eyes lest he read her ragged state.

Think of something else. Now!

Work. The emergency department.

‘How’s Uncle Mick?’ she said, dismayed to hear her breathlessness.

‘Uncle Mick?’ He sounded preoccupied. ‘Oh, yes. Mick.’

After a moment, he cleared his throat. ‘I’m just waiting for the blood results to come back. Particularly the sodium level. I noticed you had a half-strength saline bag standing by.’

‘Yes.’ She pushed the answer out, working hard to keep her tone even. Concentrate on work, on the technicalities. That would surely bring her back to an even keel. ‘I was worried about hyperosmolar hyperglycaemia.’

His fingers stopped moving, the tips resting softly on her skin. The moment hung, oddly alive with possibilities. Had he finished?

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked straight into his, so close. He looked almost puzzled. His pupils were huge, making his eyes dark and intense. For a second, she thought she read a match to her own helpless awareness in the inky depths. Was it real? Or was she desperately trying to see something so she’d feel better? Something to tell her that she wasn’t the only one caught by this sensual spell?

Hard on the heels of that thought, she realised it would be better if the weakness was hers alone. How much more difficult might it be to resist the temptation to explore this if she knew he felt the same way.

‘Dr Daniels?’ Dianne’s voice broke the spell.

Shock shuddered all the way to Terri’s toes.

Luke snatched his hands away from her face as though she were contaminated. He blinked and the earlier, intense look was gone. Now his expression was easy to read. Shock, plain and simple.

‘The lab’s just rung through the results for the sodium and blood sugar on Mick Butler,’ said Dianne, seeming not to notice anything amiss.

Terri felt heat rushing to her face. She wanted nothing more than to cover her cheeks with her hands. Bowing her head, she brushed a crease on her scrubs.

‘Results. Yes. Good.’ Luke cleared his throat. His apparent discomfort was a small balm to Terri’s frazzled system. ‘Er, what are they?’

‘Sodium, one hundred and forty. Glucose, twenty-four.’

‘Right. Thanks, Dianne.’ The rasp had gone from his voice. ‘We won’t need to change to the half-strength normal saline.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Terri saw him dig his hands into his jeans pockets.

‘How’s your nose, Terri?’ asked Dianne. ‘That was a real thump Mick gave you.’

‘I’m fine.’ Terri looked up, making her lips stretch into what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘No lasting damage. Just a bit tender.’

‘Are you sure?’ Dianne’s hazel eyes searched her face.

‘Yes.’ Oh, God, think of something to say, before Dianne says anything else. The woman was a fantastic emergency department nurse but no diplomat. But Terri’s rattled brain didn’t produce anything in time.

‘You’re looking very flushed. Almost feverish. Do you think you’ve got a temperature? Will you be all right to stay on duty?’

Terri scowled as she slipped off the bed. ‘Yes, of course I’ll be right to work the rest of the shift. If I look flushed it’s because the two of you are looking at me as though I’m something squashed on a microscope slide. Perhaps you could both take yourselves off and find some other poor specimen to peer at.’

Unconcerned by the tart response, Dianne grinned then delivered her parting comment. ‘You’re going to have a shiner.’

‘Such a good look for an accident and emergency doctor,’ Terri muttered. She glanced at Luke. ‘Are you going home now?’

‘Will you be okay for the rest of the night?’ His voice was low and warm.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said briskly. She needed to take herself in hand. His concern was professional. She couldn’t let that lovely, rich voice fill her with this inappropriate neediness. ‘Thanks for your help and, um, for catching me.’

‘No problems.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

She watched him go. If her roiling confusion was anything to judge by, it was going to be a physically and mentally draining twelve months.

Perhaps it was time to consider moving on. Her contract only had six months left. But she didn’t want to move. She’d been thinking about extending her contract. It felt wonderful to be home. Comfortable, safe, reassuring after the trauma she’d been through. It felt like the best place for her while she got back on her feet.

Port Cavill had everything. Wonderful people, gorgeous setting, a great hospital, a world-class motorcycle track.

Unfortunately, it also had Luke.

But it only had Luke for a year. Could she survive that long?

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