by Fiona Lowe
‘I’ll check his airway.’ Kirby rolled a now blue Garry onto his side and put her finger inside his mouth, hoping desperately to feel a foreign object.
‘Anything?’ The word held hope and dread.
‘Nothing.’ She rolled him back, checked his carotid pulse and chest movements, and called out to Jake. ‘What was Dad eating when he started choking?’
The trembling boy tried to speak. ‘St-stra-strawberry. He threw it in the air and catched it in his mouth.’
‘It will have lodged in his trachea.’ Nick voiced her exact thought.
‘Starting mouth-to-mouth.’ She applied the pocket mask over Garry’s mouth and lowered her head. He needed air but she had no idea if she could she manage to force any past the obstruction.
‘Find me something I can put down his throat that will grip. Try the jewellery stall.’
Kirby heard Nick’s mellow voice instructing Jade as she counted and puffed five breaths into the unconscious man.
The moment she raised her head, Nick applied the same pressure again over Gaz’s ribs, thrusting downward and forward.
Kirby rechecked Gaz’s airway, hoping to feel the firm fruit. Her stomach rolled. ‘Still nothing.’ She gave Gaz another five breaths, panic starting to ripple through her. If they couldn’t secure his airway soon, he’d go into cardiac arrest.
‘I’ve got these.’ Jade came running back and handed Nick a pair of long, thin pliers.
Kirby’s fingers detected a faint beat. ‘Pulse, weak and thready. He’s going to need an emergency tracheostomy to bypass the blockage and avoid arresting. Jenny, pass me the scalpel blade.’
‘Hang on a mo.’ Nick spoke quietly but decisively. ‘Give me half a minute with these sort of forceps and see if I grab the strawberry.’
Kirby didn’t want to waste any more precious time. ‘But we don’t have a laryngoscope for you to visualise the trachea.’
Green eyes flashed with ready understanding. ‘I’ve done it before in EMD.’
A blurry image played at the edge of her mind but immediately faded, overtaken by her focus on the emergency. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Steady his head for me.’
‘Will do.’ His confidence reassured her and she placed her hands over her patient’s ears, two fingers still resting on his carotid pulse.
The scream of the ambulance’s siren broke over the tense crowd, the sound both urgent and comforting as it brought the medical equipment they really needed.
‘Here goes.’ Nick shot her a look that said, Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and lowered the thin, silver pliers into the slack throat of the unconscious man. ‘Can’t feel anything, damn it.’ His long fingers carefully controlled all the minute movements with stunning expertise.
Kirby kept her gaze on Nick’s hand, willing it to find the obstruction. Time spiralled out, each second an agonising wait. Garry’s pulse suddenly faltered under her fingers. ‘No pulse. Get out now. I’m starting CPR.’
Nick immediately pulled his left arm back, and a soft, half-dissolved strawberry hung limply from the tip of the forceps. ‘Got it. Roll him over.’
Kirby moved her patient’s head to the side as he started coughing violently and vomited up a stream of pale pink liquid onto the ground.
Relief surged through her as she checked his pulse. ‘Pulse back, patient breathing.’ She looked up into Nick’s face, as the worry lines on the bridge of his nose faded. She experienced a sense of déjà vu. ‘Lucky save.’
He nodded, a slow smile appearing through the stubble on his jaw. ‘Very lucky.’
‘Kirby!’
She turned to see Theo and Richard, the ambulance officers, running toward her. ‘Great timing, guys. We need all your gear.’ She grabbed the black oxygen cylinder with its distinctive white top and quickly unravelled the pale green tubing. Gently, she lifted Garry’s head and looped the elastic over his ears, adjusting the Hudson mask. ‘This will help you breathe.’
The sick and bewildered man gripped her arm. ‘Thanks, Doc.’ His voice rasped out the words. ‘I couldn’t breathe…It scared the hell out of me…worse than being on the boat in a storm.’
She smiled down at him. ‘I’m glad I was here, but really it was Dr…’ She realised she didn’t know his surname. ‘Nick? I didn’t catch your surname.’
He finished attaching the Lifepak electrodes and scanned the ECG tracing before looking up and speaking straight to Garry. ‘I’m Dr Nick Dennison, and I’m just glad I was two stalls over.’
Nick Dennison. Kirby did a double-take so fast she almost cricked her neck, the name having instant recognition in her brain. But the man in front of her looked nothing like how she remembered Melbourne City Hospital’s up-and-coming emergency care specialist. What on earth was he doing in Port Bathurst, selling organic fruit and vegetables?
CHAPTER TWO
NICK concentrated hard, keeping his gaze firmly on the cannula he was inserting into Garry’s arm, immensely glad of the distraction. Kirby Atherton’s sky-blue eyes sparkled hypnotically, like light dancing on water. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about her when she’d walked up to his stall, quickly followed by her willowy height and the way her running gear clung deliciously to every feminine curve.
But it had been her eyes that had really drawn him. He had the craziest sensation that if her eyes were deep pools of water and he dived into them, he would emerge changed somehow. He tried to shrug the irrational feeling away. Not even on his worst days last year, when he’d hardly been able to get out of bed and the drugs he’d been taking had made him despair, had he experienced such foolish thoughts.
And prior to being sick, when life had consisted of work and a revolving door of beautiful women, he’d never thought twice about a set of eyes. Perhaps his mother was right. Maybe he had been out of social circulation for too long.
Brushing away the unsettling thoughts, he released the tourniquet, watching the flow of saline, checking for problems, and refocusing on far more straightforward things. ‘We’re going start you on antibiotics, Garry.’
The exhausted patient just nodded from behind his mask.
The two burly paramedics lowered their stretcher in preparation to transfer Garry from the ground to the slightly more comfortable but narrow gurney.
‘Do you need a hand?’ Nick taped the drip firmly in place.
‘We’ll be right, thanks, Doc. We do this all the time so we’re in the swing. Best help you can give us is to just step back out of the way.’ Theo locked the brakes of the stretcher with his foot.
He stood up and moved to the side at the same moment as Kirby. Much of her fine blonde hair had escaped its pink elastic hair tie and strands blew across her flushed cheeks. Her scent tantalised his nostrils, a blend of exercise and glowing health overlaid with a swirl of flowers and berries. He breathed in deeply.
‘I’m going to ring through to Barago Hospital.’
Her words brought him back to the task at hand and he caught her sideways glance—the look quick but questioningly intense—as if she thought she should consult with him.
Her mouth opened ready to speak and then her teeth suddenly dragged across her bottom lip, momentarily flattening it before the skin rebounded into shape—full, soft and rose red.
Blood pounded through his veins with an unexpected rush and it took every ounce of concentration to stay connected to the conversation. Hell, what was wrong with him? Had he stepped back so far from his previous life that he’d disconnected from things and lost the ability to focus? He ran his hand though his short hair, missing the satisfaction of being able to tug at its length. Once he’d been known for his single-mindedness and right now he wanted that back.
She spoke again, this time her words less certain. ‘I think he should be evacuated and have a bronchoscopy.’
She reminded him of a resident who knew her stuff but lacked confidence in her judgement. It was a scenario he was used to but today it surprised him because as a country GP
she must be used to making decisions all the time. Glad to be back on familiar territory, he moved to reassure her.
‘It’s a good call. The choking might have been an accident but he’s at an age where you need to rule out multiple sclerosis or other muscular conditions.’
‘Let’s hope it was just an accident, Nick Dennison.’ She raised light brown brows at him. ‘You are the Nick Dennison, youngest appointed head of Emergency Medicine in Australia?’
He studied her pretty features, looking for something that would spark his memory, but nothing did. Surely if they’d dated or worked together he would never have forgotten those eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, knowing there was no point denying the truth. ‘That’s me. I’m sorry, have we met before?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. I attended one of your lectures when I was a resident at Prince William Hospital. I was on duty that night and wasn’t able to go to the dinner afterwards, but I think you met a friend of mine, Virginia Charters.’ She shot him a knowing look. One that said, You didn’t call.
He had no recollection of Virginia Charters but then again, that entire lecture tour had been a blur of cities, lecture theatres and women eager to date him. He loved women and he loved dating. He just didn’t love or date one woman.
He took a punt on the type of women he’d accepted invitations from, women he’d wined, dined and satisfied before his world had imploded. Before he’d lost complete interest. ‘Ah, Virginia…brunette and vivacious?’
He caught the surprised and almost disappointed look cross her face that he sounded like he’d remembered.
‘Yes, that’s Virginia. I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you but you look very different from how I remember.’
He grinned, wanting to keep things light. He had no intention of telling her what had happened to him. He had no intention of anyone in Port ever knowing. His time here was all about wellness and no way was he looking back. ‘It’s the lack of a suit, a lectern and the slide presentation glowing behind me.’
Her mouth immediately widened into a broad smile that soared to her amazing eyes. Eyes that filled with coloured prisms, the many hues of blue which spun and twirled like the shards in a kaleidoscope.
His heart jolted hard in his chest and his breath stalled as a flicker of almost forgotten heat surged deep inside him.
Lust?
Yes! He wanted to whoop with delight.
His libido had vanished the day his world had changed but today it was back, albeit dusty and creaky. Four months of opting out of the mainstream and concentrating on his health was paying off. His body was back.
Suddenly his fascination with her eyes, her mouth and her curves made sense. It wasn’t Kirby Atherton per se. She just happened to be the first pretty woman he’d come across that coincided with his recovery. He relaxed into the knowledge as his world came reassuringly back into kilter.
Kirby briskly went through the motions of handing over Garry’s care to the Barago Hospital and organising Jake into the care of his aunt. Four phone calls and an hour later she had it all sorted but throughout the process her mind had buzzed continuously with the fact that Melbourne’s most well-known ER doctor, the man aptly dubbed ‘the playboy doctor’, was in sleepy Port Bathurst.
The stories about him said he worked hard and played hard and he was well known for hitting the trendy clubs and bars until the early hours. He and her friend Virginia had shared an intense twenty-four hours and Kirby had been the shoulder Virginia had cried on when he hadn’t called afterwards. She’d also been the voice of reason, pointing out that Ginny had virtually thrown herself at him and to give the man credit, he’d never promised her anything other than a good time. That he’d apparently delivered.
At the time, Kirby had had the advantage of distance because she had been cheerfully engaged, blissfully happy and busy planning her future of marriage, motherhood and medicine. Although she could appreciate the model good looks of urbane and sophisticated men like Nick, she’d always fallen for the guy-next-door type—the home-town handyman slash family man.
Anthony only talked about fixing things, remember? Then he hired someone else to do it.
She shoved away the unwanted thought that reminded her of how blind she’d been and refocussed on the memories of her friend. Ginny had been the one to go for tall dark and handsome. Except Nick hadn’t been dark then, he’d been blond, which was part of the reason she hadn’t recognised him. Today his hair was shorter and darker and physically he was thinner but more toned.
She ran her fingers through her hair. Nick Dennison and Port Bathurst just didn’t match. Port didn’t have a cutting-edge emergency department and as for nightlife, well, the recent crazy whist night at the tennis club had pushed the envelope. Lasting until midnight, the hall had rocked because someone had brought along their CD player and got people up to dance after the cards had finished. Nick in Port was like the translated instruction booklet that came with her new bookshelves—it made no sense. Her mind went round and round, stuck in a loop.
Who cares why he’s here? He’s a doctor with a wealth of experience.
The truth sliced sharply through everything else, stripping away all irrelevancies. Nick was a doctor and she needed a doctor and a mentor. The equation balanced perfectly. Nick working in Port alongside her meant she could stay in the town.
It didn’t matter that he was a party boy, a smooth-as-silk charmer and heart-stoppingly gorgeous. She’d given up men and men like Nick had never been her type anyway. No, this would be a professional association only and keep her GP training on schedule.
The only thing left to do was ask him if he would work the summer season with her. Rolling back her shoulders, she headed toward the market to professionally proposition Dr Nick Dennison.
She arrived at Nick’s stall and her heart skipped a beat as she watched him in complete control but cloaked by a lazy charm. Out of his suit and white coat he looked much more like the sort of guy she’d once been attracted to. Breathe. This one is not for you. No man is for you.
He was serving a customer, his amazing green eyes and his total attention completely focussed on Phyllis Gutherson, Port’s resident naysayer. But her usually sour expression had vanished and in its place was a girlish smile. She looked twenty years younger.
Waiting her turn and shaking her head in wonder at how he’d achieved such a miracle, Kirby bobbed down next to Nick’s dog and scratched his ears. ‘Your master could charm diamonds from jewel thieves, couldn’t he?’
Large brown eyes gazed adoringly up at her as the dog laid his head in her lap.
‘Turbo, stop it.’
At the sound of the deep, commanding voice, both the dog and Kirby looked up.
A smile met her gaze. A smile that fizzed intoxicatingly through her like the bubbles of champagne. Her bent knees liquefied and she wobbled slightly as she rose to her feet.
He leaned casually against the stall table. ‘That dog will turn on the charm if he thinks it will get him something.’
‘Gosh, and I wonder where he learned that from.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘You just managed to make Port Bathurst history by getting Phyllis Gutherson to smile, and charming her into buying your last item of produce. I mean, who eats radishes?’
This time his grin had a tinge of guilt to it, not dissimilar to that of a kid caught out sneaking biscuits too close to dinner. ‘I will concede I might have used a well-placed compliment or two to move the radishes but, hey, I just sold everything I harvested for my first market.’ He raised his hand as his eyes danced with elation—joy, pure and simple.
Without thought, she raised her hand to meet his, drawn completely by his enthusiastic aura that seemed to wrap around her, pulling her in. Her palm connected with his in a slap of celebration.
Heat tore through her hard and fast, ricocheting from skin to muscle to deep tissue and fanning out until every cell vibrated with its legacy and she tingled all over. Tingled in a way she never had before,
not even with Anthony, the man she’d loved and thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. Horrified, she jerked her arm back to the safety of her side.
Remember why you’re here. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. ‘That’s fabulous. Congratulations. Can I buy you a cup of coffee to help you celebrate and to say thank you for your help with Garry?’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I have to pack up here first and I don’t want to hold you up.’ He picked up some boxes and stowed them into the back of a ute.
Kirby hauled her gaze away from his rippling biceps and tried to keep her focus on why she was actually here. She didn’t just want to blurt out, ‘Please work with me.’ The situation needed more finesse than that. ‘How about I give you a hand and then we go for coffee?’ Don’t sound so needy. ‘If that suits you.’
Emerald eyes studied her for a brief moment. ‘OK, it’s a deal.’ He tipped over the wooden trestle and grabbed the old metal supports, his broad palm wrapping deftly around them.
Kirby had a sudden image of a leather tool belt sitting flat across his washboard abdomen and him fixing all her sticking sash windows. Stay focussed. He’s a doctor, not a handyman.
‘Excellent.’ She passed him boxes and watched him stack them as if they were a mathematical problem. ‘How long have you been in Port?’
‘Technically, I’m not in Port because I don’t live here.’ He slid the long trestle into the ute.
Kirby’s gut went into freefall. With his vegetable selling she’d assumed he lived here. Her plan depended on him living close by.
He paused in his stacking and extended a muscular arm out toward the mountainous rainforest area behind the town. ‘My property’s Riversleigh, thirty K out, near Sheep-wash Corner.’
Her gut steadied. She was still in the game—just. Sheep-wash Corner was pretty isolated, even more out of the way than Port. Nick Dennison hadn’t just left Melbourne for Sleepy Hollow, he’d gone bush, a tree-change. But why? The situation got even more intriguing. ‘How long have you lived out there?’