by Fiona Lowe
Debbie shook her head sadly. ‘He’s set to leave this morning but I’m sure he’ll call by first. Meanwhile, I got in early and pulled the histories for the first patients and my diabetic clinic doesn’t start until ten so I can woman the phones.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks, Debbie, and thanks for keeping things ticking over here yesterday while I was tied up at the hospital all day. You have no idea what a load you take off me with your clinics, which reminds me, the funding came through for your “travelling pap test” clinic, so well done on that too.’
Debbie beamed with the praise before dashing out to answer the phone, leaving Abbie alone to eat her breakfast. The next time she was alone was four hours later when the morning session finally wrapped up. ‘Debbie, I’m grabbing lunch from Tony’s; do you want me to get you anything?’
The practice nurse stuck her head out of the treatment room. ‘I’m set, thanks, and Eli Jenkins is here for his ulcer treatment. Can you check the fax? I just heard it beep at reception.’
Abbie’s head was already spinning from hunger. She had a huge afternoon ahead of her and all she could think of right now was one of Tony’s focaccias and a mug of his creamy latte—he refused to serve it in a glass, saying it was a travesty to good coffee. ‘It won’t be anything urgent. I’ll read it when I get back.’
The heat hit her the moment she opened the heavy red-gum door and she automatically reached for her sunhat, which she always hung on the coat-stand. She loved making sure the clinic had an ‘at home’ welcoming feel to it and the hat-stand was part of that, as was the umbrella stand with its stash of umbrellas. Not that they got used very often as it had been ages since Bandarra had seen rain. Moths would probably fly out if a patient opened one.
Usually Murphy raced to the door to meet her, ever hopeful of a walk, no matter how short, but his smiling face wasn’t waiting for her. She glanced down the long veranda, ready to call her dog, but Murphy’s name died on her lips as her mouth dried to a crisp.
Lying in her hammock, and looking for all the world as if he belonged there, was Leo. His long and tanned shorts-clad legs stretched out in front of him, and one arm was crooked behind the back of his head, the angle moulding his soft cotton designer T-shirt tight to the well defined muscles of his chest and shoulders. Aviator sunglasses covered his onyx eyes while his other long-fingered surgeon’s hand dangled lazily over the hammock’s side, stroking Murphy’s head.
The Border collie looked up adoringly while his tail thumped out an enthusiastic tattoo.
Turncoat!
Hot and cold streaked through Abbie, making her tremble and sending her already spinning head into a vortex spiral where hunger, lust and fast-fading common sense got sucked in together. Danger—stay strong. She dragged in a deep and steadying breath. If she ignored him, she could pretend he wasn’t here. She slapped her thigh and called her dog. ‘Murphy, here, boy.’
The dog turned his black and white head and smiled at her as if to say, Look who I found; come meet him too.
Leo rose elegantly from the hammock, in total contrast to the inelegant way Abbie had fallen out of it the day she’d tried, and he walked up the veranda towards her with her dog trotting besottedly by his side. She wanted to hate him but really she only hated her reaction to him. A reaction she must master.
His smile lit up the air around him, although the slight aura of tension she’d occasionally glimpsed hovered. ‘Hello, Abbie. Great dog; is he yours?’
She nodded and, knowing she couldn’t ignore him, she chose the direct approach—the one that usually made her sound brisk and officious and had very occasionally sent interns scurrying. ‘What are you doing here, Leo?’
He didn’t even blink at the bald words. Instead, he tilted his head and met her gaze with a friendly and open expression. ‘I thought we could have lunch together.’
No way. ‘I don’t think so. I’m just grabbing a quick focaccia before afternoon clinic.’ She turned away from him and staring straight ahead, determined not to look at him, she started walking towards town.
‘Me too.’ Leo fell easily into step beside her.
The scent of laundry powder mixed in with healthy masculine sweat encircled her, fuzzing her brain. ‘Why do you need a quick lunch when surely the point of being on holiday is being able to have a long lunch?’
‘Afternoon clinic starts at two, right?’
Her head snapped sideways so fast she felt something rip. ‘It does, but why does that concern you?’
His friendly smile suddenly became wide and knowing. ‘I hate being late.’
She felt her brows draw down towards the bridge of her nose and heard her mother’s warning voice shriek, wrinkles. She batted the voice away, needing all her concentration to stay on top of what was going on. He surely didn’t look sick; in fact he looked decadently healthy, and yesterday’s fatigue which had played around his eyes had completely vanished. Today he looked relaxed and gorgeous. Dangerously gorgeous. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
A ripple of unexpected confusion skated across his usually confident face. ‘Robert Gleeson should have told you this morning.’
Her throat tightened at the hospital CEO’s name and every nerve-ending fired off a mass alert. ‘Told me what?’
‘That I’m doing half days to help out until the new doctor is appointed.’
Silver spots danced in front of her eyes. Leo working in the clinic. Oh, God, that was probably what the fax she’d so cheerfully ignored had been about. Jumbled thoughts tumbled off her lips. ‘But you’re on holiday to spend time with your family.’ She heard her rising voice, the words tinged with slight hysteria. ‘Surely you don’t want a busman’s holiday?’
He shrugged, but it seemed overly casual, as if he’d had to try hard to achieve the effect. ‘I can do both. Robert contacted me this morning after getting yesterday’s report and seeing all the media attention. He thought it would help you out and it suits me. I like to keep busy.’
She grasped at straws but they seemed lined with slippery mud. ‘But you’re a surgeon.’
Intelligent eyes fixed her with a piercing look. ‘So what are you saying? That I can’t cut it as a GP?’
The mud threatened to dump right on top of her and she opted for the easy jibe. ‘There’s a lot of listening and not much cutting. You’ll be bored rigid after one session.’
Two jet-black brows rose, disappearing under a thatch of thick hair. ‘That’s a big statement based on nothing much at all. Are you always this quick to judge?’
His words hit with painful accuracy and sliced open guilt. Yesterday he’d been great with his patients and she couldn’t fault that but she didn’t trust herself working with him. ‘I just meant that the work won’t be the high-powered stuff you’re used to.’
He crossed his arms across a powerful chest. ‘Maybe I can make a dent in the waiting list Robert was talking about, seeing as you only get a visiting surgeon once a month. Like I said, I like to keep busy.’
The reality of the waiting list duelled with the sheer panic that bubbled furiously inside her at the thought of working with Leo. Of staying safe and not being tempted to go down a self-destructive path. Remember Greg. But the waiting list issue was bigger than her and the hardworking people of Bandarra had enough to contend with from the tough climatic and economic conditions of the area. They deserved the unexpected advantage of a surgeon in their midst for a few weeks, even if Leo Costa’s charisma scared her witless.
She swallowed hard and forced up the words that needed to be said. ‘I’ll take you up on that.’
He clapped his hands. ‘On lunch? Excellent.’
Charm played on his high cheekbones, both enticing and inviting, and deep inside Abbie a tiny crack widened. How much danger could there possibly be in sitting down for a quick focaccia?
Plenty. Warrior Abbie raised her shield. This is work.
She cleared her throat and shored up her determination to keep Leo Costa a solid distance away from her, bo
th physically and emotionally. She pasted on her professional smile. ‘I’ll take you up on the offer of reducing the waiting list. In fact I’ll pull out the files and we can prioritise a list. How does that sound?’
He nodded agreeably. ‘It sounds fine.’
But there was something about the timbre of his voice and the easy smile that played on his lips that had Abbie regretting the whole idea. Leo Costa working in Bandarra might be good medicine for the town but it was a health hazard for her.
Leo strode from the clinic towards the hospital on his way to visit Nonna before his planning meeting with Abbie. With Debbie’s able assistance, Leo’s first session had been remarkably smooth and, although he’d seen a lot of patients, he hadn’t seen anything of Abbie. It had been on the tip of his tongue to suggest they take their meeting over dinner but that would only give her another excuse to say no and she was extremely good at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to work so hard at getting a date but her ‘no’s’ just made him more determined and inventive. He’d rung Anna’s restaurant and ordered an antipasti platter and a bottle of wine so they could meet and eat at the clinic, and he might just be able to break down that intriguing wall of aloofness she was so good at building.
‘Ciao, Nonna, com stai?’
Nonna raised her hand and smiled. ‘Leopoldo. When am I going home?’
‘You have to ask Abbie that, Nonna. I promised her I wouldn’t interfere.’
Nonna’s perceptive gaze instantly turned curious but that didn’t hide the lining of reproach. ‘You’ve broken promises to women before.’
He sighed and rubbed his chin, realising he’d just unwittingly stepped into a topic he usually did his best to avoid. Nonna had taken his divorce from Christina personally and it was the only thing about him and his life where she actively voiced disappointment. It amazed him that she should be so angry with him over a failed marriage and yet never blame him for Dom’s death when the cause lay so squarely at his feet. But perhaps she did blame him because Dom and Christina were inextricably linked and always would be.
‘So, Maria, I’ve got good new—’ Abbie breezed into the ward, a white coat covering a crumpled pair of knee-length khaki shorts and a white blouse that begged for the touch of a hot iron. Her green eyes widened as if she’d taken a jolt of electricity.
‘Leo.’ A ripple of tension wove through her from the top of her sun-kissed caramel curls, down and around pert breasts, across a nipped-in waist, before spinning around curvaceous legs and disappearing into the floor. ‘I thought you were still at the clinic.’
Leo deciphered the code as, If I’d known you were here I wouldn’t have come, and annoyance fizzed in his veins. He’d apologised for his behaviour and she’d accepted so surely their rugged start was now water under the bridge. So why did she want to avoid him so much? It fuelled his determination to cut a swathe through her reserve. He gave her a slow smile. ‘I finished the list and cut out early to visit Nonna so I wouldn’t be late for our meeting.’
‘Oh, right, of course.’ Her hands seemed to flutter as she reached for the chart, the action unusually flustered.
Then he caught a flash of something flare in her eyes before being quickly replaced by her professional doctor look—the one she always gave to him. He stifled his grin and mentally high-fived. Abbie McFarlane was working seriously hard to stay aloof. Wine and antipasti might just do the trick.
‘Actually, Leo, it’s good you’re here.’ With studied casualness she turned back to Maria. ‘I know you want to go home and you’ve been recovering well but I want you to have some time in rehab, and a bed’s just come up. Leo can transfer you now and that way you’re ready for physio and OT first thing tomorrow.’
Maria beamed and patted Abbie’s hand. ‘I will walk there.’
Abbie shook her head. ‘Sorry, Maria, but you have to go in a wheelchair; it’s hospital policy. But once you’re in the rehab ward you’ll be able to use your frame.’
The old woman gave a snort of derision and Leo expected a tirade of rapid-fire Italian to follow but his grandmother surprised him. ‘Leopoldo, pack my things. Dottore, get my dress.’
Abbie looked startled for a moment and Leo wondered if she’d refuse the request or call a nurse but, as his hand opened a drawer, she walked to the wardrobe. Three dresses hung neatly and, without giving Maria a choice, she plucked one off the rack. ‘This will do nicely.’
Leo hid his smile. He’d learned early that he did things Nonna wanted but in his own way. Abbie had worked that out fast.
Ten minutes later, with Maria seated in the wheelchair, Leo pushing and Abbie carrying the small suitcase, they crossed the courtyard to the rehab wing.
‘When I am home, dottore, you need to come again and make bread.’
‘Maria, my last attempt was a disaster. It was so rock-hard that if it was thrown it could knock a man unconscious.’
Leo laughed. ‘Remind me never to upset you in a kitchen.’
Abbie crooked a challenging eyebrow and lights sparked in her eyes. ‘No chance of that ever happening.’ She bent her head towards Maria. ‘Kitchens and I have never been a match and never will be. I know enough to feed myself and that’s all I need to know.’
‘Pfft.’ Maria threw her hands out in front of her as if Abbie had just uttered a cardinal sin. ‘Food is not just for a hungry belly. It feeds the soul.’
Abbie’s expression clouded for a moment before her shoulders rolled back and she picked up her pace.
Leo’s gaze swept over Abbie’s slight but shapely body that had curves in all the right places. Abbie wasn’t underfed but he’d noticed occasional shadows peeking from those amazing eyes, and his observant nonna had noticed too. Abbie hadn’t realised that Nonna wasn’t trying to teach her to cook but was trying to teach her the joy of food.
Abbie opened the rehab ward door. ‘Here we are.’
Maria’s orders started flowing again in a combination of English and Italian and she didn’t pause until they’d settled her into the dining room. They left her happily chatting with the other residents and her final words to their retreating backs were, ‘Hang my clothes.’
Leo strode into Nonna’s new room. Shaking his head in a combination of half laughter and half apology, he opened the wardrobe door. ‘And that was Nonna in full flight.’
‘True, she organises us mere mortals.’ Abbie passed him clothes from the suitcase, a wicked laugh twitching her plump lips. ‘But who knew that the hotshot city surgeon is a complete pushover when it comes to his grandmother?’
He slid the coat hanger over the metal rail and grinned. ‘Not many people know that. It’s classified information.’
Sea-green eyes, devoid of any shadows or clouds, twinkled brightly with teasing in their depths. ‘Classified information? How so?’
He winked at her. ‘I’ve got a reputation to protect.’
Her belly laugh brought a delicious pink to her cheeks. ‘Are you worried that if the information got out it might put a dent in your macho surgeon image?’
He hung up the last dress and turned to face her, a streak of fun pouring through him unlike anything he’d felt in months. ‘Let me put it this way—if word got out I might not be responsible for my actions.’
She chuckled as she leaned against the wardrobe door, her arms crossed firmly against her chest. ‘Oh, right, and if I talk, what are you going to do to me? Hit me with that high wattage charm that works for you so well? I hate to tell you, Romeo, but it won’t ever work on me.’
Her words laid down a challenge he couldn’t refuse. Raising his left arm, he pressed it against the door, leaving plenty of space for her to duck out underneath, should she choose that option. Leaning in closer, he kept his gaze fixed firmly on her face as her strawberry and liquorice scent swirled around him, filling his lungs before pouring through him and leaving a trail of banked heat.
He caught a flicker of movement—the twitch of a muscle in her cheek. A chink in her professed a
rmour? Perhaps she wasn’t as impervious to him as she made out. Slowly he brought his right hand up to her face, twirling a tight curl around his finger as he spoke softly. ‘And what makes you so sure?’
She tilted her chin, the action all defiance. ‘I’ve been charmed by experts and I know every trick in the book.’
He’d expected her to spin out under his arm and stalk away but instead she stood her ground, so he edged in closer until he could feel the heat of her body radiating out to meet him and the tickle of her sweet breath on his face. ‘But you don’t know all my tricks.’
She swallowed hard and heat unfurled inside him so fast he thought he’d ignite. A pulse quivered against the pale skin of her throat, completely undoing him, and with a groan he gave in and lowered his mouth to hers.
Plump lips of pillow-softness met his with complete stillness, but the hint of sweet sultana grapes and summer sunshine hovered, pleading to be tasted. He flicked his tongue, stealing the tang, wanting the full taste.
Her arms stayed crossed against her chest like an unyielding barrier and her eyes were squeezed shut as if she was battling herself. He almost pulled back but then she gave a moan-like sigh and opened her lips to him.
His tongue tumbled over the precipice and the taste of summer fruits flooded his mouth. Their sweetness bubbled through his veins like champagne—intoxicating and demanding—and he angled his mouth, seeking more.
Her tongue met his with a jolt and immediately darted away, only to return a moment later, all hesitancy gone. With the experienced mouth of a temptress, she took her full taste of him and at the same time branded him with her own unique essence.
White lights exploded in his head and his blood pounded to his groin with an urgency he hadn’t known in months. Pure lust poured through him, driving all of his actions as every cell in his body screamed to touch her, feel her, taste her and fill her with himself. Frustratingly, her arms still stayed rigidly between them, acting like a blockade and preventing him from lining his body against hers. Instead, he slid his free hand up into her hair, the silky strands caressing his palms and releasing their heady scent of floral fragrance.