by JC Harroway
I placed my case on the floor, ignoring the seat, and began to read through the document. My heart raced as I scanned each line. The pompous words swam before my eyes, but I was determined to make them wait.
Nathan stood in the doorway. ‘It’s all very standard. A necessary evil, I’m afraid.’ The charming Brit with the dry sense of humour was gone, replaced by this professional celebrity. Perhaps he’d learned the hard way that people couldn’t be trusted—something we had in common?
‘Yes, I’m sure. I understand, Mr Banks, believe me.’ I kept my eyes on the document, flipping to the second page.
Jake fidgeted with the pens on the desk, lining them up, side by side. ‘Mr Banks values his privacy. Everyone at the lodge has signed one of these.’
‘No explanation is necessary.’ I cast a polite smile at Jake, my mouth tight.
I turned back to Nathan. ‘Rest assured, I have very high levels of both professional and personal integrity, Mr Banks. I take my work very seriously and I would never speak to the press or anyone else for that matter. I’m a doctor—patient confidentiality is paramount to me.’
He eyed me, his stare hardening. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve learned the hard way not everyone I meet has your scruples.’ His laugh held little humour. ‘Even the ones who hate my films realise they can still sell my autograph on the internet or my picture to a magazine.’ His lips twitched and his cool assessment flitted over my heated face. ‘You won’t even accept premiere tickets from me.’
‘No, I won’t.’ I made a show of reading the remainder of the document before adding my signature to the last page. I reached for my case and turned for the door.
Nathan blocked the doorway, a seemingly delighted smile on his face. He stood aside, gesturing for me to pass.
Head held high, I stepped into the hallway, coming face to face with a woman I recognised.
‘Is it all over?’ She bypassed me, rushing to Nathan’s side. ‘Oh, poor baby. I hate blood.’ Her nose crinkled.
Claudia Garrett was a well-known American actress. Tall, willowy and glowing with health, she looked amazing in a winter white sweater and skin-tight jeans. Not a strand of her platinum hair was out of place, and she wore just enough make up to accentuate her dewy complexion and full mouth.
‘Was it terrible?’ She raised a hand and stroked her fingers through the hair at his temple.
Nathan smiled down at her, then his unreadable gaze met mine over the top of her head. ‘Dr King here was very gentle with me.’
She turned in my direction. ‘Oh, hi.’ Looping her arm through Nathan’s, she tugged him down the hallway. ‘Come on, I thought we were partying? I’ve organised hot shots by the fire and the sunset is stunning.’
So, he had a movie star girlfriend? Dejection was a bitter pill in my mouth. Shaking my head, I snapped myself from my ridiculous funk. Nathan Banks was way out of my league and that was fine by me. As he’d pointed out, I wanted nothing from him, not even his free tickets.
Jake gestured for me to follow the couple, but when we reached the great room, Nathan paused, allowing me to enter first.
‘Would you like a drink, Dr King?’ Claudia perched on a cream sofa and gestured to a tray of shot glasses on the table.
‘No, thank you. I should be going.’ I levelled a stare at Nathan. ‘Mr Banks, I advise you not to mix those painkillers with alcohol.’ I winced at my own tone—party pooper.
He appraised me coolly, neither acknowledging my advice nor assuring me of his compliance. ‘I’ll be with you soon, Claudia. Dr King, I’ll walk you out.’ Taking my elbow, he guided me towards the kitchen and the lodge’s rear entrance.
My skin tingled under his touch, the gentleman-like contact rattling me after our confrontation, but I forced myself to keep my arm still and appear unaffected.
‘Thanks again for your care.’ He held up his bandaged hand. ‘And for coming all this way.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Sometimes it’s easier to avoid the media circus.’
The timely reminder of the pitfalls of life in the public eye helped to douse my attraction to him. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
We’d arrived at the small boot room off the kitchen. He retrieved my coat from the coat hook and held it open. My arm felt the absence of his touch, as if his hand had been part of my skeleton, holding me together.
‘I wish you every success with your career.’ The Hollywood smile was back, dazzling me. ‘And if you do see the film, I hope you enjoy it.’
I shrugged into my coat, mumbling my thanks.
The back door opened, blasting us with icy air blown down from the mountains and revealing the rugged face of the man who’d brought me here, Ben, the lodge caretaker.
‘Ready to go, Dr King? Light’s going.’
‘Yes. Thanks Ben. All set.’
Taking one last indulgent glance at my illustrious patient, I stiffened my spine and headed outside to the jet boat waiting to take me back to reality.
Chapter Two
THE clinic teemed with patients during the winter months, when the town’s population doubled in size with adrenaline junkies, tourists and families seeking fun in the snow. After the morning’s steady stream of fractures, sprains and chesty coughs, I was ready for a break.
Jess—a Welsh, pixie-faced red head—had that sunshine-spreading disposition common to all excellent nurses. She was also my flat mate, best friend and, if she had her way, chief matchmaker.
‘C’mon, time for a cuppa. You look knackered,’ she said.
‘Didn’t sleep very well.’ I had little resilience to deal with her effervescence on a typical day, let alone a day when I felt cumbersome from sleep deprivation. But I followed her to the staff room anyway, accepting my fate and the unavoidable interrogation.
Excitement lit her blue eyes. ‘So, what was he like?’
I sighed. I needed caffeine to get through this. Jess didn’t miss a trick, and what could I say about Nathan Banks? ‘He was …’
I’d spent most of the night re-living my encounter with him. I’d been expecting the charisma, the good looks, even the charm. But the down-to-earth hottie with a wicked sense of humour? He’d been a revelation. Right up to the point where he’d morphed into a paranoid arse with an NDA in his pocket.
‘What?’
‘As you’d expect, really. Compelling, charming and a bit of a diva.’ Fishing the tea bag from my mug, I dropped it into the bin and wandered over to the comfy chairs.
‘Oh, come on, really?’ She pulled an apple from her bag, her flash of disbelief indicating she wouldn’t be fobbed off. I’d have to give her something.
‘Well at first he seemed quite normal, you know, grounded?’ My description grated on my own ears. How could I label such a magnetic man as ‘normal’? There was nothing ordinary about Nathan Banks, and if I closed my eyes I could still conjure the pull I’d experienced to him.
Jess leaned forward in her chair. ‘So what happened?’
‘I can’t really tell you. He asked me to sign a confidentiality agreement and I left him to party with his girlfriend.’
She huffed, clearly frustrated with trivial matters like legal documents, and flopped back in the chair. ‘I thought he was single?’
‘Didn’t look that way.’ Feigning indifference, I reached for a tattered magazine from the table. I flipped through the pages, keen to hide my own inexplicable reaction to Nathan’s relationship status.
‘Bugger. Lucky cow. Still, I can’t believe you met one of the most famous men on the planet. Is he as gorgeous in person?’
‘Jess.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re terrible.’
‘And you’re flushed. You fancied him, didn’t you?’
The blush began in my chest, heat creeping up my neck in confirmation of my astute friend’s assessment. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a doctor. He was a patient. End of story.’
‘But he’s Nathan Banks!’ She grinned. ‘Did you get a selfie with him?’
‘No.
He offered me premiere tickets.’
‘Really? Cool.’ She bounced in her seat.
I shook my head. ‘I turned them down.’ My shoulders slumped—my refusal had bordered on rude.
The roll of her blue eyes mocked me. ‘What? Why?’
‘I don’t know. It was the way he did it. Like I should be grateful and fall at his feet or something. Like he was bestowing his magnificence on a mere mortal.’ I shifted in my seat and took a mouthful of tea.
‘Soph, you overthink things. I know you’ve always got your guard up, but most people are nice, you know?’
I considered her spiel. I’d heard it a hundred times. The killer was, she had a point. I was the Fort Knox of guarded—serious, dependable, cautious. The yin to her yang. My friend’s bubbly personality and fun-loving antics were a source of constant fascination to me, and I knew she’d have acquired a lot more from Nathan Banks than his premiere tickets—girlfriend or no girlfriend.
When I didn’t reply, Jess continued. ‘Millions of women would happily fall at his feet, probably for much less than some free tickets, too.’
I sighed, my teeth clamping down on a thumbnail. ‘Well, I’m not most women. Trust me. He was arrogant and condescending and …’ Attractive, chivalrous, attached. How much longer did I have to tolerate her curiosity? I wanted to forget I’d ever met Nathan Banks, restore order to my thoughts and shelve the inconvenient sense of discontent he’d awakened.
‘I read online he’s been here filming.’
The magazine in my lap became irresistible. ‘Oh?’
Jess laughed. ‘I know, I know. You can’t comment. It’s not like I’m going to run to the Queenstown Gazette and sell my story.’ Her eyes took another roll and I snorted too at the absurdity of the idea.
Jess was one of the most loyal and trustworthy people I knew. There was a reason I’d selected her as a friend. My circle was small, but reliable.
‘I think Mr Banks believes we all would.’ I drained my tea and stood. I’d rather get back to work than analyse Nathan Banks any further—he’d already spent the night in my head. I was done.
Jess followed me to the kitchen area. ‘He doesn’t know us then, does he? Still, I suppose it must be horrible to have every aspect of your life publicly scrutinised and splashed all over the internet.’ Her smile fell, her face paling until the only colour came from the smattering of freckles across her nose. ‘Oh, Soph, I didn’t think. I’m sorry—I wasn’t referring to you.’
‘I know.’ I squeezed her hand. I had no secrets from Jess. She knew about my own run-ins with the press. When most teenagers were discovering the opposite sex and challenging boundaries, I was dodging journalists, protecting my brother and hiding myself away.
She changed direction. ‘Did you get to examine his magnificent bod?’ She tossed her apple core into the bin.
‘Jess. No clothes were removed during the examination of his injury.’
‘Tut, tut. You’re a doctor. You should know that all injuries are best treated with a thorough examination of the chest and abdomen. It’s called the six-pack sign. Didn’t they teach you anything at med school?’
I laughed. ‘The six-pack sign?’ I dried my mug and placed it back in the cupboard.
‘Yes, you should always check for that and that awesome V thing he has going on.’
You had to love her. She was impossible. I smiled despite myself and shook my head.
She looped her arm through mine as we left the staff room together, bumping me with her shoulder as she said, ‘You wanted to do him, didn’t you?’
I pressed my lips together to conceal my grin, but she painted an irresistible picture. I closed my eyes and he was in my head again. With a sigh, I turned to face my relentless friend. ‘Okay, he was hot enough to melt my stethoscope. Satisfied?’
She squealed, squeezing my arm. ‘I knew it!’
‘But trust me. He was an arse.’
Her face fell. ‘Really? What a shame. Well, I suppose you can’t have it all.’ We pushed through the double doors into the treatment area. ‘You coming for drinks after work?’
I shook my head. ‘Can’t. It’s my night to video chat with Matty.’ I stood at a free computer monitor and pulled up an X-ray I’d been waiting for.
Jess straightened a pot of pens on the desk next to me. ‘C’mon, Soph. You never come out.’
Distracted, I clicked through some screens. ‘I do. Sometimes.’
‘Hardly ever. You’re practically a recluse. I promise I won’t set you up this time. Just us and few friends.’
By friends, she meant her friends—the group of bubbly, out-going twenty-year-olds Jess had met in the months we’d been here. Blood pounded at my temples with the beginnings of a headache. I knew she meant well, but she saw me as a project.
Still, a drink after work wouldn’t kill me. ‘Maybe. After I call Matty.’
‘Sophia King, you need to have some fun even, if I have to administer it intravenously.’ She pulled me into a fierce, Jess-scented hug. ‘Sorry about before—foot-in-mouth disease. It’s a serious affliction,’ she whispered, and pushed her way through the double doors into the waiting room.
***
I was checking some lab results on the computer when Jess found me a few minutes later.
‘Mark wants you to review a patient,’ she said. ‘I’ve put him in the treatment room.’
‘Okay.’ I finished what I was doing and made my way to the private room. The door was ajar, and I reached for the notes from a bracket fixed to the wall.
Adrenaline slammed through me—Nathan Banks. I’d barely recovered from our last encounter and he was here. Jess loved to meddle.
Excitement and propriety battled for control of my heart rate as I peered through the narrow glass pane in the door.
Nathan leaned against the edge of the examination couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Dressed in dark blue jeans, scuffed boots and a navy merino sweater, he looked as if he’d just come from a photo shoot for a high-end magazine. For all I knew, he had.
His attention was honed on his phone as he scrolled across the screen with an agile thumb. My temperature soared as I watched the tip of his tongue touch his top lip in concentration. I was frozen at the door, my hand undecided on the handle.
He wasn’t alone. Jake too, worked on his phone, and a petite Asian woman sat in the room’s only chair, tapping away on an iPad.
‘Jake, e-mail Martin and tell him I won’t do it.’ Nathan focused on his phone as he multi-tasked, thumb-typing while he barked orders.
The Asian woman glanced up from her iPad. ‘But Nate, it’s a great role for you and your schedule for that time is free. You could easily fit it in before you begin filming the second series of Gone South.’
‘I’m not doing it. I’m sick of fucking rom-coms. I’ve told Martin I’m being typecast.’ He looked up from his phone and glared at Jake. ‘And ask Martin what happened to that World War Two drama I was interested in?’
Jake and the woman went back to their devices and their master’s bidding.
I cleared my throat as I entered. ‘Mr Banks?’
Nathan stood, pocketing the phone immediately. ‘Dr King. Thanks for seeing me.’ Residual annoyance hardened his eyes. It seemed all was not well in Hollywood.
He shook my hand, and heat travelled from his warm grasp up my arm, infecting my nerve endings with delicious tingles.
I pulled my hand away. ‘How can I help?’ My own phone vibrated in my pocket. ‘Oh, excuse me a moment.’
He’s not hot. He’s volcanic.
Jess.
‘I’m sorry.’ I replaced my phone, smiling through my embarrassment. Why he was here was anyone’s guess, but my foolish body was delighted to see him. My heart pounded a tattoo against my ribcage and my chest flushed, reminding me I had two X chromosomes and he had an X and a Y.
His smile was friendly. ‘No problem. You’ve met Jake.’ He turned to his assistant. Jake raised his hand in a salute,
and the woman stood from her chair. ‘And this is Lucy Gao, my publicist.’
Lucy reached for my hand. She was exquisite—fine boned, her hair a sleek black bob, and she wore the highest heels I’d ever seen. I feared for the integrity of her ankles.
Facing Nathan, I sucked in a breath. ‘So, what can I do for you?’ I tucked his notes under my arm, grateful to resume the doctor–patient relationship now the introductions were over.
‘My hand’s been a little sore this morning. I thought I should get it checked out.’ He leaned back on the edge of the examination couch.
‘Okay, let’s have a look.’ Placing the notes on the desk, I washed my hands and moved to stand in front of him. A fresh smell of warm skin and clean clothes surrounded him, banishing the ‘hospital’ odour from the cubicle and infiltrating my senses.
Peeling back one corner of the dressing, I said, ‘Have you kept this dry?’ My voice was a low rasp. He was an arse, but a damned attractive one, and I was only human. Self-preservation kicked in and I frowned to conceal the effect he had on me.
Under the dressing, the wound was red and angry. I tossed the bandage into the bin and washed my hands again.
‘I went for a late swim last night.’ His gaze was bold, defiant.
Unspoken reprimands battered down my raging female hormones. ‘It’s infected.’ I reached for a new dressing and a can of antiseptic spray from the shelf. His wince gave me a moment’s pleasure as I blasted the wound with the spray. But my satisfaction was short-lived as my imagination took over. Had he and Claudia been skinny-dipping by moonlight, or star gazing from the lodge’s hot tub?
‘You enjoyed that, Dr King.’ His eyes were cool, but a half-smile twitched his lips. ‘You might have warned me.’
My face heated. ‘I’m sorry. I’m very busy this morning.’ And you couldn’t follow a simple instruction. ‘Are you allergic to any antibiotics?’
‘No. I’m allergic to vicious sprays though.’
I ignored his attempt to lighten the mood. ‘I’m prescribing you a seven-day course. Take them with food and if this wound gets any worse or you start to feel unwell, please seek further medical attention.’