by Leah Martyn
‘Sounds very proactive. And make sure we pay Libby for the Saturday hours, please, Moira.’ He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow between the two women. ‘If that’s all the staff business, then?’
‘I’ve nothing else,’ Moira said.
‘Nor me.’ Emma shook her head.
‘Right.’ Declan scooted his chair back from the table and stretched out his legs. ‘Moira, feel free to take off, then. And thanks for making my first week such a smooth ride.’
‘Oh—how nice of you to say so, Declan,’ Moira responded coyly. ‘I think we’re going to make a great team.’ She stood to her feet, sending the two doctors a broad smile. ‘See you both on Monday.’
‘Have a nice weekend,’ they chorused.
Moira was barely out of the door when Declan rounded on Emma. ‘Any patients you want to consult about?’
‘A couple.’ She gave an inward shrug. Did he always conduct his meetings at this pace? ‘The lab confirmed Russell Kernow has whooping cough.’
‘Poor old boy! Probably jabs for that weren’t around when he was a kid. Not much we can do, though. It will just have to run its course. And the good thing is he’s not infectious any longer. So, you’ll release him then?’
Emma nodded. ‘From a funding point of view, we can’t justify keeping him indefinitely. Someone from the Rotary has been round to his home and replaced the filters in his air-con units and the meals on wheels will start calling again.’
Declan ran a finger across his chin thoughtfully. ‘We should probably keep up a regular home visit, though.’
‘I’ll tee up with Libby to pop in on him each day. Anything untoward, she can report to us,’ Emma said.
‘Great.’ Declan smiled and raised his arms and locked them at the back of his neck. ‘How about your gynae patient, Sylvia?’
Emma was surprised he’d remembered such a small detail as a patient’s first name. ‘She’s gone home. Her bladder function is still incomplete but she’s managing much better. Her husband is at home for support and I aim to see her regularly until everything is back to normal. How was your consult with the Maines?’ Emma pressed back a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting the angle of her gaze to look fully at him.
‘Er—productive, I think.’ Declan caught the concentration of her gaze, noting how the forest-green of her eyes was unusually dark, her expression almost wistful. His heart thumped, the memory of her feminine softness under his hands making his body tighten uncomfortably. Hell…he was almost tempted to cancel his plans for the weekend. And do what? the practical part of his brain demanded.
‘And?’ Her mouth was smiling. Just. More a tiny upward flick at the corners. ‘Wakey, wakey, Doctor.’
‘Huh!’ Declan gave a crack of laughter. ‘Slipped out of focus there for a minute. What were we talking about?’
‘The Maine family.’
‘Right.’ He spun a finger up in comprehension. ‘Aaron is chucking the smokes and Ashleigh is booked to see the physio next week. All on the file.’ He cranked a dark eyebrow at her. ‘You all set to cover for the weekend?’
She nodded.
‘Good. Looks like we can wrap it up, then.’ He clicked his pen closed and pushed it back in his shirt pocket. ‘I’ll just grab my bag and be off.’ In one fluid movement, he’d stood to his feet and pushed his chair in.
Somewhat more slowly, Emma followed suit. She caught up with him again as he came out of his office, pulling the door closed and locking it. ‘You seem in an almighty hurry to get out of the place.’ Emma tried to dismiss the odd stab of disappointment she felt, almost running to keep up with him as he strode back out to reception.
‘I’m driving to Brisbane.’ Declan hoisted his medical case on to the counter top and wheeled to face her. ‘Erinn is flying in for a conference. It’s been ages since we’ve been able to catch up.’
‘No wonder you’re excited, then.’ Emma managed a quick smile. ‘So, what kind of conference is it?’
‘Erinn is an OT,’ he said, as if that would explain everything.
Emma blinked. An occupational therapist. ‘And Katie? What does she do?’ Emma knew she was holding him up but suddenly, for reasons she didn’t want to analyse, she needed to put him together with his family. See them as a unit. Something she didn’t have any longer.
‘Katie teaches high school. Year eights. The littlies, as she calls them. Loves it.’
He laughed and then drawled sing-song, ‘And they’re both married to good guys and both have two kids each.’
Emma wrinkled her nose at him. ‘So why aren’t you married?’ she asked lightly.
‘Dunno. Never happened.’ Raising an arm, he flipped his case off the counter top. ‘Er…if there’s a crisis of any kind—call me,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll come galloping back.’
Her laugh cracked in the middle. ‘On your white charger?’
‘You bet. Isn’t that what knights do?’
‘Very cute.’ Head thrown back, Emma caught his gaze. Her smile widened. Declan smiled back and, for just a moment, a blink of time, there was a connection of shared awareness. Sharp. Intense. Then, suddenly, their smiles retracted as quickly as turning off a light switch.
They both looked awkwardly away at precisely the same moment. And Declan was gone in the time it took for him to stride down the ramp to the parking area at the front of the surgery and cross to his car.
Against her better judgement, Emma watched from the window. In seconds he’d taken off, the bonnet of his silver-grey Audi a flash in the setting sun as he passed the border of flowering plumbago and was lost to sight. Emma stifled a sigh and drew back. He was on his way.
Suddenly all the places in her heart felt empty.
A peculiar kind of separateness engulfed her. She had nowhere to go.
And she realized she’d wanted to go with Declan. Be close with him. Meet his sister. Gather the warmth of family about her. Oh, dear God. Lifting a hand, she pressed it against her mouth. Where did she think she was going with any of this?
She needed to get a serious grip.
Keep busy. That was the best option. The only option. She locked up and set the alarm and then looked at her watch. It was still relatively early. She had time to pop in on Sylvia.
‘How is everything going?’ Emma asked as they sat side by side in the Gartrells’ comfortable lounge room.
The older woman smiled. ‘Tom’s treating me like a queen. Doing the washing and everything. And we do the cooking together.’
‘You know not to lift heavy pots and things,’ Emma warned.
Sylvia flicked her hand dismissively. ‘I just give the orders and Tom takes direction. We’re quite a team.’
Emma chuckled. ‘I’m sure you are. Now, how about the rest of you?’
Sylvia leaned forward confidentially. ‘I think I may have had a breakthrough with the water. It’s coming much better.’
‘That’s brilliant, Sylvia. You’re still measuring the output?’
‘Like you told me.’
‘And how much are you still retaining?’
Sylvia thought for a second. ‘About fifty mils. And I used the catheter to get that away. But I must say it’s getting a bit tiresome.’
‘Well, I think you can stop, now.’
‘I can? Really?’
‘Yes. Most of us retain that amount of urine naturally. I’d say nature’s taken over and your body is well on the way to a complete recovery.’
‘Oh, my!’ Sylvia’s hand went to her chest. ‘You know I thought it would never happen. Even turning on the water at the basin like the nurses said didn’t help. I was beginning to think I was some kind of oddity.’
‘Oh, Sylvia, of course you’re not! It’s been a struggle but you’ll reap the rewards of having the surgery done now.’
‘Yes. And now I can power on again, get into my garden and help with the grandkids much more.’
‘But not for a while yet,’ Emma cautioned. ‘You’ve had major surgery, Sylvia. Now,
barring emergencies, could you come and see me in two weeks and we’ll check everything is where it should be?’
‘I can do that, dear.’
‘About medication…’ Emma flipped open the file she’d brought with her. ‘I’d like you to stay on the hormone cream the specialist prescribed. Do you have enough for the next two weeks? If not, I’ll write you a new script.’
‘I have one repeat left,’ Sylvia said. ‘That nice new partner you have wrote me a script when he popped in on me at the hospital.’
‘Oh—’ Emma frowned. That would have been on that Saturday morning when they’d only just firmed up their partnership. But there was nothing on file…She lowered her gaze and rechecked the information. Oh, yes—there it was, in Declan’s precise handwriting. So, why hadn’t she seen it? She bit her lip thoughtfully. Probably because she hadn’t been looking for it. Hadn’t expected Declan to have become involved so quickly in a hands-on kind of way with their patients. She blinked a bit, not quite able to admit that she was missing the solidarity of his presence already.
Emma got to her feet. ‘I’ll see myself out, Sylvia. Don’t get up.’
‘Tom should be back any minute,’ Sylvia said. ‘He’s just gone to get our usual Friday fish and chips for tea. Why don’t you stay, dear? He always buys extra.’ A grin tweaked a dimple in her cheek. ‘Still can’t get used to the fact there’s only the two of us now. Stay,’ she invited again.
Emma was tempted. Lord, how she was tempted. The need to be with family, surrogate as it was, was almost unbearable. But, in reality, it would solve nothing. ‘It’s a lovely thought, Sylvia. And thanks. But…er…I’ve another patient I need to catch up with,’ she invented hurriedly.
Sylvia nodded. ‘Another time, then. And Emma?’ Reaching up from her sitting position, the older woman squeezed the tips of Emma’s fingers. ‘Be kind to yourself, dear. Your dad would have wanted that for you.’
Chapter Five
HE WAS back.
Declan blew out a calming breath and switched off the ignition. He’d made good time from Brisbane and driven straight to Kingsholme, telling himself if Emma was out it was no big deal.
He stretched, felt a crack or two in his spine and shoulder joints, shrugged inwardly and swung out of the car. He’d go round to the back of the house. If the kitchen door was open, he’d know Emma was home.
Oh, hell. He worked his legs as he walked along the path at the side of the house. His joints felt as stiff and rusty as the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. Mounting the shallow steps to the verandah, he stood, quietly absorbing his surroundings.
It was a typical back verandah found in countless rural settings in Australia. A mish-mash of everyday items, from the outdoor shoes left to dry to the weathered wooden ladder that was being used as a plant stand. Two lovely old wicker chairs painted a silvery-blue were parked against the wall and in between sat a matching round wicker table covered with a patchwork cloth. On the table sat a little tea tray, a cup and saucer and a glass jar of…what? Shortbread? Something like that…
Declan took a hard breath and tunnelled a hand back through his hair. There was an odd feeling about the setting. A loneliness. Emma? His heart twisted. He hated that conclusion.
Moving purposefully across the verandah, he called a greeting from the open kitchen doorway. And waited, his heart banging like a drumbeat in his chest. There was no reply. Yet he knew she was here. He could feel it.
Warily, he took a couple of steps into the kitchen and looked around, his eyes widening, his face working at the sweetness of what he saw.
Emma was lying curled on the cane settee. It was obvious she was asleep, her pose unconsciously sexy yet vulnerable. Desire and need slammed into him with the intensity of a punch to the solar plexus, dizzying, like sudden gravity after weightlessness.
He felt a hard wedge in the region of his stomach and his jaw clenched. Oh, sweet heaven. This felt almost like voyeurism. Swallowing the dryness in his throat, he moved closer. ‘Emma…’
His voice seemed to fall on Emma’s skin like a caress, easing her out of sleep into wakefulness. ‘Declan?’ Her eyes shot open, her voice foggy with confusion. She jack-knifed to a sitting position. ‘How long have you been there?’
‘Just arrived. I didn’t mean to intrude. Your kitchen door was open—’
‘It’s OK.’ She lifted her hands, sweeping her hair back behind her ears. She gave a husky laugh. ‘I started reading—must have fallen asleep.’
He frowned. ‘Do you do that often—leave your door open? I could have been a burglar.’
She sent him a weighted look. ‘What were you intending to steal—the kitchen chairs? The cat? This is a country town, Declan. No one locks their back doors.’
His mouth grew taut. ‘I was concerned for you, that’s all.’
Soft colour licked along Emma’s cheekbones and she protested gruffly, ‘Well, as you can see, I’m fine.’ She stood to her feet. ‘I thought you’d be back much later than this.’
Declan gave a twitch of his shoulder. ‘Erinn’s conference broke up at lunchtime. We both took off soon after. How was your weekend?’
Lonely without you, she was tempted to reply. But quickly thought better of it. ‘Couple of call-outs,’ she said. ‘Nothing serious. So you had a good time with your sister?’
‘Yes,’ he said economically. ‘Erinn and I had a few laughs, caught up on the family news.’
‘As you do. Something to drink?’ she asked, moving to the fridge, opening the door and peering into the contents, trying in vain to stem the smile that just wouldn’t go away. He was back and somehow, in some odd way, her world felt right again. Which was crazy, she decided, leaning in to extract pear juice, a ginger cordial and soda water. She spun round and moved back to the bench. ‘You’ll like this,’ she said, expertly mixing the three ingredients and then pouring the finished product into two tall glasses. She topped each glass with a sprig of mint and passed one across to Declan. ‘It’s delicious,’ she promised when he hesitated over a taste test.
He held the glass to his lips and tasted once and then again, licking the residue from his lips. ‘It’s good,’ he agreed and drank thirstily.
‘Let’s catch the last of the rays,’ Emma invited, putting her own half-finished drink aside and leading the way out on to the verandah.
Ignoring the outdoor chairs, Declan moved to stand with his back against the railings. ‘I’m a bit stiff after the drive,’ he explained.
‘So, was the trip back all right, then?’ she asked, her hip almost touching his as she stood beside him.
‘Mmm.’ Why on earth were they talking such generalities? Stuff it. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He turned to face her. ‘I thought about you a lot over the weekend…’
Emma swallowed. Her heart tripped. He was bending towards her, his blue eyes capturing hers with an almost magnetic pull. ‘I…’
‘Thought about me too?’ he murmured hopefully.
She had. She couldn’t deny it. But would it help either of them if she told him that? Did she need the complication an admission would undoubtedly bring? She felt her heart bang out of rhythm, her gaze moving restlessly, almost fearfully, as though to find a way out of the dilemma.
The late afternoon sun felt intoxicatingly warm against her back. There was no urgency in the air. Just a languid kind of sweetness.
Declan leaned closer to her, slowly.
In a second, Emma felt her body trembling from the inside out. Was this what it felt like before a first kiss? Her mind went blank. After Marcus had defected, she’d thought she’d never again trust a man enough to experience another first kiss.
But she wanted it. How she wanted it.
Declan was so close to her now she could see the faint shadow across his jaw line, the slight smudges under his eyes. His face reflected a toughness, a strength.
‘Emma…’ he said, his voice low, this last second before his kiss.
Her mouth trembled. She could feel his b
reath on her face. It smelled minty, a faint residue from his drink. She lifted her gaze and stared at him, mesmerized by the yearning she saw in his eyes. The desire to be kissed by him was irresistible and, before she could second-guess the wisdom of it all, she was leaning into him.
Declan took her face in his hands, his need materialising in the softest sigh, before his mouth found hers. The kiss rolled through his blood and raw need slammed into him like nothing he had ever known before. Her lips parted and her own longing seemed to match his, overwhelming him like the heady aroma of some dark heated wine.
Applying a barely-there pressure through his hands, he whispered the tips of his fingers down the sides of her throat, then in a sweep across her breastbone to her shoulders, gathering her in.
Emma clung to him. And the kiss deepened, turned wrenching and wild. She felt a need inside her, an overwhelming need to be touched like this, held like this.
And stroked to the point of ecstasy by this man.
But it wasn’t going to go that far. At least not today. She felt Declan pulling back, breaking the kiss, slowly, gently, his lips leaving a shivering sweetness like trails of insubstantial gossamer.
A long beat of silence while they collected themselves.
‘Have we broken every rule in the official partnership handbook?’ Declan asked in a deep voice, wrapping her closer.
She licked her lips. ‘Possibly…probably.’
He bent to her, pressing his forehead to hers. ‘It’s all been a bit…’
‘Unexpected?’ Emma was dizzy with the newness of it all.
‘Huge understatement,’ he declared. ‘Bone-rattling would be more apt. Ah, Emma…’ His fingers lifted her chin, his mouth only a breath away as he said her name and then his lips were on hers. Again. And it felt so right the second time around. To taste slowly and blissfully instead of devouring as if there were no tomorrow.
Emma felt intoxicated, as though she were swimming through warm treacle toffee, loving the vital male taste of him, the warmth of his arms around her, the long, slow getting-to-know-you kind of kiss that she guessed neither of them wanted to end. Because then there would be questions, postmortems.