by Leah Martyn
Emma gripped her hands tightly. He must have been sick with worry and conjecture. And fear. Her antagonism faded and her heart went out to him. ‘What was the result? I mean, you don’t appear to have any deficit in your movement.’
His eyes took on a dull bleakness. ‘I’ve regained most of it but my muscles are unpredictable, my toes still get numb from time to time. Added to that, I can’t stand for excessively long periods. And that’s what orthopaedic surgeons have to do. You need to have muscle strength, be in control. I can’t risk a patient’s life by breaking down in the middle of a long operation. So, career-wise, I’m stuffed.’
‘But you could do other kinds of surgery,’ Emma said hopefully.
‘I don’t even want to think about that. I want to do what I was trained to do—what I do—did best.’
But sometimes you had to compromise. Emma knew that better than most. ‘You could lecture, Declan.’
He made a disgusted sound. ‘Take up a chair in a hallowed hall somewhere? That’s not me. I’m a doer. I’d rather change direction entirely.’
‘In other words, come in as my partner—’ She broke off. ‘You might hate it.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Blue eyes challenged her although his mouth moved in the ghost of a wry smile. When she remained silent, he went on, ‘Emma, don’t you think it’s just possible Andrew considered he was acting in the best interests of both of us? He knew the extent of my injuries, the uncertain state of my career in medicine and he knew, without him, you were going to need a partner—someone you could trust. And you can trust me, Emma,’ he assured her sincerely.
Emma felt almost sick with vulnerability. Heaven knew there was no one else beating the door down to come and work with her. But this man? On the other hand, what choice did she have? He had all the power on his side and, she suspected, the determination that her father’s wishes would be carried out. There was really no get-out clause here. None at all. ‘How do we go about setting things in motion, then?’ Her voice was small and formal.
Declan breathed the greatest sigh of relief. They’d got to the trickiest hurdle and jumped it. ‘You’re overworked and under-capitalised. If we tackle the problems together, Kingsholme could be brought up to its potential again. Why don’t we give it six months? If we find we can’t work together, I’ll get out.’
‘And where will that leave me?’
‘Hopefully, with a fully functioning practice. You’d have no difficulty attracting a new partner and I’d recoup my investment. It would be a win-win situation for both of us.’
Emma knew the decision had already been made for her. She wanted to—needed to—keep Kingsholme. Declan O’Malley had been Dad’s choice of a suitable practice partner for her. She had to trust his judgement and go along with that. Otherwise, she was back to the mind-numbing uncertainty of the past weeks. ‘Have you come prepared to stay, then?’
‘I’ve brought enough gear to keep me going for a while.’ Declan kept his tone deliberately brisk. ‘If it suits you, I’ll continue at the surgery until Friday and then, on the weekend, we can go over what practical changes need to be made. I’d imagine you’d have a few ideas of your own about that?’
‘It depends on how much money you want to spend,’ Emma shot back with the faintest hint of cynicism.
He answered levelly, ‘There’ll be enough.’
On Friday afternoon, they held a quick consult after surgery. ‘What time do you want to begin tomorrow?’ Emma asked.
Declan lifted his medical case up on the counter. ‘I’m flexible. What suits you?’
‘I need to do an early hospital round. We could meet after that.’
‘Why can’t I come to the hospital with you?’
Emma looked uncertain. ‘It’s all pretty basic medicine we do here.’
‘And nothing I’d be interested in?’ Declan’s gaze clouded. ‘Emma, if we’re partners, we share duties. Right?’
She coloured slightly. ‘I was just pointing out there’ll be none of the drama associated with Theatres.’
‘So, it’ll be a change of pace. I can handle that.’
Could he, though? Emma wished she felt more certain. On the other hand, why not think positively? She’d already capitulated over him becoming her partner. It was time to just get on with things. ‘Hospital at eight o’clock, then? I’ll give you the tour.’
‘That’s what I want to hear,’ he drawled with his slow smile.
For a split second Emma registered a zinging awareness between them. Raw and immediate. Like the white-heat of an electric current. She repressed a gasp. Declan O’Malley exuded sex appeal in spades. He was about to step in as her practice partner. And they were going to be working very closely together for at least the next six months…
Emma had enjoyed her Saturday morning run. Leaning forward, hands on the verandah railings, she breathed deeply and began to warm down.
‘Great morning for it,’ a male voice rumbled behind her and she jumped and spun round, her heart skittering.
Emma straightened, one hand clenched on the railings, her senses on high alert, as Declan O’Malley came up the steps. His sudden appearance had made her flustered and unsure. ‘I run most mornings.’ She felt his eyes track over her and, before she could move or comprehend, he’d lifted a hand and knuckled her cheek ever so gently. Emma felt her breath jam.
‘It’s good to see those shadows gone,’ he said, his voice throaty and low and further tugging on her senses. His eyes beckoned hers until she lifted her gaze. ‘I gather you slept well?’
She nodded, breath rushing into the vacuum of her lungs. She’d slept well for the first time in weeks. She wasn’t about to analyse the reason. But she had a fair idea it was all to do with the fact that at least for the next little while, her future was settled. Her teeth caught on her lower lip. ‘I thought we were to meet at the hospital.’
Hands rammed in his back pockets, Declan shifted his stance slightly as if to relieve tense muscles. ‘I was awake early. Thought I might come over and persuade you to have breakfast with me.’
‘Or you could stay here and have breakfast with me,’ Emma rushed out. ‘I’m sure I could cobble something together.’
‘I didn’t mean to gatecrash—’
‘You’re not.’ She took a thin breath. ‘Give me a minute to have a shower and change.’
He followed her inside to the kitchen. ‘I could knock us up some breakfast—that’s if you don’t mind someone else rattling around in your kitchen?’
‘Not remotely.’ In a reflex action, Emma jerked the zipper closed on her track top right up to her chin. ‘Uh…I did a shop last night. There’s plenty of stuff in the fridge.’ She almost ran from the room.
Sheesh! Declan spun away, thumping the heel of his hand to his forehead. Why on earth had he done that? Touched her. He hadn’t meant it to happen but at that moment his hand had seemed to have a life of its own. Oh, good grief. Surely, the idea had been to reassure her he was trustworthy. Well, that premise was shot. Instead, he’d gone to the other extreme and created a damn great elephant in the room. He hissed out a breath of frustration and tried to take stock of the kitchen. He’d promised her breakfast. He’d better start delivering.
Emma showered in record time, towelled dry and dressed quickly in comfortable cargos and a ruby-red sweater. She wasn’t about to drive herself crazy thinking about earlier. It was hardly a professional thing for Declan to have done. What she couldn’t work out was her instinctive response to his touch…Oh, Lord. Suddenly, her body was stiff with tension. Almost jerkily, she lifted her hands, bunching her hair from her shoulders and letting it spiral away. At least he’d got on with the breakfast. There was a gorgeous smell of grilling bacon coming from the kitchen.
‘How’s it going?’ Emma asked, buzzing back into the kitchen, determined not to start walking on eggshells around him. They were about to become partners in practice. Nothing else. ‘Find everything?’
Declan looked up from the st
ove. ‘No worries. It’s a great kitchen.’
‘Tottering with age but very user-friendly,’ Emma agreed. Opening the door of the fridge, she peered in and located the orange juice. She poured two glasses and handed one across to Declan.
‘Thanks. I’m doing bacon and scrambled eggs.’
‘Lovely.’
Declan lifted his glass and drained it slowly as he watched the eggs begin to thicken and fluff. He could get used to this. The warmth and the clutter of the old-fashioned kitchen. The comforting aroma of food cooking. The feeling of solidness, of family. The place just breathed it. He could get some idea now of how desperate Emma had been to hang on to her home. ‘Your idea?’ He pointed to the sun-catcher crystal that dangled from the window in front of the sink.
Her tiny smile blossomed to a grin. ‘My alternative period. You about done here?’
‘I hope it’s up to scratch,’ he said, catching the drift of her flowery shampoo as her head topped his shoulder.
‘Mmm, smells good.’ Emma gave him a quick nod of approval. ‘I’ll get the plates.’
‘I used to run a bit,’ Declan said as they settled over breakfast.
‘You can’t now?’
His mouth pulled down. ‘I seem to be stuck with a set of prescribed exercises these days.’
Emma looked up sharply with a frown. Did that mean he didn’t trust his legs on a simple run? ‘I understood you to say it was standing for long periods you had trouble with. Short bursts of running would seem OK, surely? And drawing all that fresh air into your bloodstream works magic.’
Well, he knew that. ‘Maybe it’ll happen. In time.’
So, end of discussion. Emma pursed her mouth into a thoughtful moue, realizing suddenly that her own emotional baggage didn’t seem nearly as weighty as her soon-to-be-partner’s. Determinedly, she pulled out her social skills and managed to create enough general conversation to get them through the rest of the meal. She glanced at her watch, surprised to see the time had gone so quickly. She swung up from the table. ‘If you’ll start clearing away, I’ll just feed the cat.’
Declan gave a rusty chuckle, looking sideways to where the big tabby sprawled indolently on the old-fashioned cane settee. ‘Looks like he wants room service.’
Emma snorted. ‘Lazy creature. I think the mice run rings around him. He belonged to Mum.’
Declan hesitated with a response, a query in his eyes.
‘She moved back to Melbourne about a year ago,’ Emma enlightened him thinly. ‘Dad bought her an art gallery in St Kilda. It had an apartment attached so the whole set-up suited her perfectly and Dad went there as often as he could before he died. She never really felt at home here in rural Queensland. Missed the buzz of the city, her friends.’
Declan was thoughtful as he stood to his feet, processing the information. At least now he knew where the bulk of Andrew’s estate had gone and why the practice was all but running on goodwill. And why Emma’s stress levels must have been immense as a result.
Between them, they put the kitchen to rights in a few minutes. Hanging the tea towel up to dry, Emma felt an odd lightness in her spirits.
‘Emma, I wonder if you could spare a few minutes now? There are a couple of business decisions I’d like to run past you.’
His voice had a firm edge to it and Emma came back to earth with a thud. ‘Let’s go through to Dad’s–your surgery,’ she substituted shortly. ‘I’ll give the hospital a call and let them know we’ll be along a bit later than planned.’
They took their places at the big rosewood desk. ‘Fire away,’ Emma invited, locking her arms around her middle as if to protect herself.
Declan moved his position, sitting sideways in his chair, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. ‘First up, I’ll need to see some figures from your accountant. Could you arrange that, please?’
‘I do have some current figures,’ she replied. ‘I organized that when I needed to see what state the practice was in after Dad—’ She stopped. ‘I’ll get them for you directly. Perhaps you’d like to study them over the weekend.’
‘Thanks.’ He nodded almost formally. ‘That will help a lot. Now, your office system—’
‘Yes?’
‘It seems a bit outdated. You obviously have computers installed but no one seems to be using them.’
She’d wondered when they’d get to that. ‘I encouraged Dad to get them soon after I moved back and we had the appropriate software installed. Moira did an evening course at the local high school, but at the end of it she said it was all beyond her. Dad said he felt more comfortable with his own way of doing things.’
‘I see.’
‘I tried to get things operational myself, but then, with Dad gone, it all came to a screeching halt. Any time I had to spare has had to go on face-to-face consults.’
‘The system must be got up and running,’ he insisted. ‘If it’s too onerous for Moira, then she’d be better—’
‘I won’t let you sack her, Declan,’ Emma swiftly interjected.
He raised his head and looked at her coolly. ‘Emma, don’t go second-guessing me, please. I was about to add, Moira would be better staying with what she does best. She’s obviously invaluable to the practice. She knows the patients well and that helps facilitate appointments. But what we do need is someone with expertise who can come in on a permanent basis and get our patient lists up to date and their medical history on to the computers. Can you think of anyone suitable?’
‘Not offhand,’ she said stiffly. It all made sense though and, belatedly, she realized the shortcomings he’d pointed out had probably been one of the reasons the doctors she’d interviewed had vetoed working here. ‘I’ll have a chat to Moira. Better still, I’ll call her now.’ She felt almost goaded into action, reaching for the phone on his desk. She hit Moira’s logged-in home number and, after a brief conversation, replaced the receiver in its cradle. Raising her gaze, she looked directly at Declan. ‘Moira’s coming in now. She says she may have a few ideas. I hope that’s in order?’
Declan spread his hands in compliance. He wished Emma didn’t see him as the bad guy here. But he’d promised Andrew he’d do what he could to save the practice and if along the way he had to tread on a few toes—gently, of course–then he’d do it. He hauled his legs up and swivelled them under the desk. ‘I noticed we don’t seem to have the services of a practice nurse. What’s the situation there?’
‘We used to have one, Libby Macklin. She took maternity leave, intending to come back, but found it was just too much with the demands of the baby. We didn’t get round to replacing her.’
Declan placed his hands palms down on the desk. ‘Would she like to come back, do you think?’
Emma nodded. ‘I see her quite often. The baby’s older now, of course, and Libby’s managing much better. I know she’d appreciate some work but I just haven’t been in a position to offer her any…’
‘Sound her out then,’ Declan said, refusing to acknowledge Emma’s wistful expression.
‘I’ll go and see her after we’ve been to the hospital. Now, about patient lists.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I’m not sure how you’d like to work it, but perhaps we could do a clean swap? You’d take over Dad’s patients,’ she suggested.
‘That sounds fair. And I’m thinking we could schedule a weekly practice meeting, air anything problematic then. Suit you?’
Heck, did she even have a choice in the matter? A resigned kind of smile dusted Emma’s lips. ‘Fine.’
Declan frowned and glanced at his watch. ‘How long will Moira be?’
‘Not long. She lives only a few minutes away.’
‘Yoo-hoo, it’s me!’ As if on cue, Moira’s quick tap along the corridor accompanied her greeting.
Declan uncurled to his feet and dragged up another chair. ‘Thanks for doing this, Moira.’
‘No worries.’ She flapped a hand and leant forward confidentially. ‘I’ll get straight to t
he point. My granddaughter is looking for work.’
‘Jodi?’ Emma’s gaze widened in query. ‘I thought she was full-time at McGinty’s stables.’
Moira’s mouth turned down. ‘James, the youngest son, has returned home so he’s taken over much of the track work. Jodi’s there only one day a week now.’
Declan exchanged a quick guarded look with Emma. Moira was obviously a doting grandmother but they couldn’t afford to be giving jobs away on her say-so. ‘Moira, we’d need to have a chat to Jodi about what the job here entails,’ he stressed diplomatically.
‘Of course you would.’ Moira smiled. ‘That’s why I’ve brought her in with me. She’s outside in reception.’
‘Ask her to come in then,’ Declan said briefly, turning to Emma as Moira left the room. ‘What do you think?’ he asked quietly. ‘You obviously know this young woman. Are we doing the right thing here?’
‘Jodi is very bright. Providing her technical skills are up to speed, then I think she’ll do a good job. Oh—here she is now.’
Declan got to his feet again as Jodi bounded in, all youthful spirits and sparkling eyes. ‘Hi.’ She linked the two doctors with a wide white smile.
‘Jodi.’ Declan stuck out his hand in greeting. ‘Declan O’Malley. Emma you know, of course.’
‘Hello, Jodi.’ Emma beckoned the teenager to a seat. ‘Moira says you’re looking for some work.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Jodi slid her huge leather satchel from her shoulder and on to the floor beside her chair. ‘Nan’s told me a bit about what you need here. I could easily manage to give you three days a week, if that suits. I work track at McGinty’s on Fridays and I’ve just got a day’s work at the supermarket on Thursdays. So I could give you from Monday to Wednesday.’
Declan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘How old are you, Jodi?’