by Leah Martyn
'Yeah.' Brent's smile flashed briefly.
'What time are your parents coming, Brent?' Abbey clipped the medical chart back on to the end of the bed.
'About ten. Uh—thanks for looking after me.' He rushed the words out, his gaze catching Abbey's for the briefest second before he dipped his head shyly.
'You're welcome, Brent.' Abbey sent him a warm smile. 'And better wear long trousers out in the paddocks from now on, eh?'
'And watch where you put those big feet,' Nick joked, pulling himself unhurriedly upright. 'Stay cool, champ.' He touched a hand to the boy's fair head.
'No worries, Doc. See you.'
'You bet.' Nick raised a one-fingered salute.
Out in the corridor, he turned to Abbey. 'Told you we'd be a good team.'
Abbey's smile was a little strained. 'You were good, Nick. Thanks.'
'Hey, you.' As they turned the corner, he tugged her to a halt. 'You look as though you've just hocked your best silver.'
She smiled weakly. 'I don't have any silver.'
'You know what I mean.'
Her mouth tightened momentarily. 'Why didn't I see Brent needed to unload all that stuff? He was relaxed as cooked spaghetti when we left.'
'And he'll probably sleep like a baby tonight. It's what's called getting a second opinion, Abbey, and I imagine they're a bit thin on the ground out here. Am I right?' he tacked on softly.
She nodded feeling the pressures of being a sole practitioner close in on her. 'But I would have sent him home still all screwed up—'
'Stop it!' Nick's command was razor sharp. 'You can't second-guess everything you do in medicine, Abbey. Imagine, as a surgeon, if I did that. I'd be residing at the funny farm by now. You do the best you can. None of us can do more than that.'
'But—'
He gave an irritated 'tsk'. 'Abbey, physically, your patient is well again. He's young and resilient. He'd have sorted himself out—probably talked to his parents about it, or a mate.'
'I suppose so...'
'I know so.' Nick's eyes glinted briefly. 'Now, come on, Dr Jones.' He took her arm again. 'You promised to show me through the rest of this place.'
Wingara hospital was old but beautifully maintained. Nick looked around with growing interest, deciding the wide corridors and carved wooden panelling over the doorways could have easily graced a fine old homestead. 'It's got a long history, obviously,' he remarked.
'Oh, yes.' Abbey nodded, regaining her equilibrium. 'Built in the days when Wingara was a thriving centre. In those days there was a permanent senior reg on staff and always a couple of residents, plus several GPs in private practice as well.'
'So, what happened?'
'The usual things.' Abbey's mouth turned down. 'The sapphire mine gave out, the rail line closed, the sawmill went into liquidation and people had to relocate to get work. Suddenly, it was the domino effect at its worst. Money leaves the town so shops lose business or fold. The pupil numbers at the school diminish so a teacher is lost, and so it goes on. But there's talk of the mine reopening and the local council has embraced tourism, so there's a bit of a revival happening.' She smiled. 'Things are looking up again.'
'What's the bed capacity?' They'd stopped and looked into one of the spacious private rooms.
'Only ten now. And, thank heavens, we've never had a full house since I've been here.'
'Do you have an OR?' Nick began striding ahead, his interest clearly raised.
'We have a theatre,' Abbey emphasised. 'You're not in the States now, you know.'
Nick laughed ruefully. 'Force of habit. Makes more sense to say OR when you think about it, though.'
Abbey looked unimpressed. 'Here we are.' She turned into an annexe and opened the door to the pristine operating theatre. Her mouth had a sad little droop. 'It's hardly used any more but Rhys insists the instruments are kept sterilised.'
Nick shook his head slowly. 'It's brilliant—for a rural hospital, that is...' His mouth compressed. He could comprehend more clearly now Abbey's underlying anger and frustration at the bureaucracy's continued neglect of rural medicine. Although he'd assumed things were improving...
He strode into the theatre then, as if to better acquaint himself with its layout, his movements sure and purposeful as he gauged the angle of a light here, stroked the tips of his fingers over a stainless-steel surface there.
'Do you want me to leave you here to play while I go home and start dinner?' Abbey queried dryly from the doorway.
Nick's head came up and he grinned a bit sheepishly. 'Be right with you.'
CHAPTER SIX
The doctor's residence was next door to the hospital with a vacant block between. Again, like the hospital, it was of brick, a sprawling old building with a bay window at the front and with a large veranda on the eastern side, positioned to catch the morning sun in the winter and to offer shade during the hot summer afternoons.
As Abbey led the way inside, she had the strangest feeling a whole new chapter of her life was about to begin.
'Ah—sure there's enough room?'
Abbey wrinkled her nose at Nick's mocking look, her heels tapping as they walked along the polished hallway. 'There are four bedrooms, all quite large. You can take the one with the bay window, if you like. Bella keeps them all aired—don't ask me why.' She opened the door on the freshness of a lemon- scented furniture polish. 'What do you think?'
There was something very homely and intimate about it, Nick thought. His gaze swept the room, taking in the fitted wardrobes, the dark oak dresser and bedside tables with their old-fashioned glass lamps. 'It looks very comfortable,' he said, his mouth drying as he looked across at the double bed with its plump navy blue duvet and lighter blue pillowcases.
He took a breath that expanded the whole of his diaphragm. 'Thank you, Abbey.'
Abbey's heart did a tumble turn. She swallowed. 'For what?'
'For inviting me to share your home.'
Suddenly the atmosphere changed, the light-hearted harmony disappearing, replaced with tension as tight as a trip wire.
Her startled eyes met his and widened, and her lips parted to take in a soft little breath.
It was too much for Nick. With a muted sound of need, he drew her into his arms. Raising his hands, he cupped her face, his thumbs following the contours of her cheekbones. She looked so beautiful, he thought, looking down at the little flecks like gold dust in her eyes.
Lowering his head, he tasted the fluttering pulse at her throat, before catching her lips, threading his fingers through her hair to lock her head more closely to his.
On a little moan of pleasure Abbey welcomed his deepening kiss, shivering at the intensity of her feelings the like of which she'd never experienced with any other man. Winding her arms around his waist, she urged him closer, closing the last remaining gap between them, tasting heaven.
But surely this shouldn't be happening.
With a tiny whimper, she dragged her mouth from his, her breathing shallow. 'Nick...' Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
'Abbey?' He stared down into her wide, troubled eyes.
She held his gaze for a searing moment and then looked away, taking a step back as if to separate herself from the physical boundary of his arms.
In a show of mild desperation, Nick brought his hands up, locking them at the back of his neck. Did she expect him to apologise? Well, he was damned if he was going to. She'd kissed him back, hadn't she?
'I...think we need some ground rules.' Abbey wound her arms around her midriff to stop herself trembling. She licked her lips, tasting him all over again.
His jaw tightened. 'Are you trying to tell me you don't like me touching you?'
She flushed. 'That's not the point. This is a small community. We both have a professional standard to uphold.'
'You're having second thoughts about having me here?'
'No.' Abbey took a shallow breath. 'I'm just saying we need to be aware of how things look.'
A grim little s
mile twisted his mouth. 'In other words, to use the vernacular, you don't want it to appear as though I've come here merely to shack up with you.' And then he looked at her wary, troubled expression and his gut clenched. 'Look.' He pressed his palms against his eyes and pushed out a gust of breath. 'I'll get a room at the pub.'
'You don't have to do that!' Abbey shook her head and wondered why she was trying so hard to keep him under her roof. 'Just...as I said. We need to talk a few things through.' Seeing how his expression darkened at that, she added hurriedly, 'But we could do that later, perhaps—over a glass of wine or something...'
'Fine,' he agreed heavily. 'Is it OK if I take a few minutes to unpack? It's been a long day. I'd like to get squared away.'
'Of course,' she said quickly, almost breathlessly in her haste to try and normalise things between them. In a brief aside, she wondered if Nick was obsessively neat about the house. Oh, lord. She wasn't a particularly messy person but she did like to kick her shoes off the minute she walked in the door and she'd been known to leave empty coffee-mugs in odd places.
But I won't keep looking for the negatives between us.
She rallied, even dredging up a passable smile. 'I'll, um, grab a shower and see you in a bit, then. My bedroom has an en suite bathroom so feel free to use the main one.' She heard herself babbling and stopped. 'See you in a bit,' she repeated and hurriedly left the bedroom.
Barely forty-five minutes later, Nick joined Abbey in the kitchen, showered, his suitcase unpacked and his gear more or less sorted.
'That was quick.' She gave a stilted smile. 'I've just been checking the fridge. There's nothing very interesting for dinner and I wouldn't insult your ancestral palate by offering you a supermarket-brand lasagne.'
'I've eaten worse things.' His mouth folded in on a smile and he hooked out a chair to sit back to front on it, his arms folded along the top. 'Honestly, Abbey, I'm not pedantic about food. But I do like to choose what I eat, if that makes sense.'
It did. 'I usually do a shop on Saturday after I've finished surgery.' Abbey met his mild look neutrally, before her eyes darted away again. 'I guess we could make a list of the kinds of things we like...' She paused, as if waiting for his approval.
'Sure. That's fine with me.' He rolled back his shoulders and stretched.
Her expression lightened. Perhaps sharing living arrangements would work out after all. 'The Sapphire does a nice roast on a Friday,' she offered tentatively.
'The pub it is, then.' Nick kept his tone deliberately brisk. 'But I might make it an early night, if you don't mind.'
She suppressed a tight smile. 'And there I was imagining you'd want to hang about for the karaoke.'
'Maybe next Friday.' As if he was trying hard to regain his good humour, Nick's return smile was wry and crooked. Spinning off his chair, he placed it neatly back at the table. 'Let's go then, if you're quite ready.'
They took Abbey's four-wheel-drive. 'And while you're here, Nick, we split living expenses down the middle. OK?' They'd crossed the old railway line and were re-entering the town proper. '
'Whatever you say, Abbey.'
She sent him a quick enquiring look. His remark had sounded as though he was humouring her. She frowned slightly. Suddenly the outcome of this month he proposed spending here with her seemed very blurred and uncertain.
'Be prepared to be well looked over,' she warned him. She'd parked neatly opposite the hotel and now they were making their way across the street to the beer garden.
'So, I shouldn't try holding your hand, then,' he interpreted dryly.
Abbey's heart thumped painfully. If he didn't lighten up, she'd jolly well send him home to eat that awful lasagne.
The beer garden was not overly crowded for a Friday evening and Abbey breathed a sigh of relief, scattering a smile here and there to several of the townsfolk who were obviously enjoying a meal out.
Seeing her action, a flash of humour lit Nick's eyes and he mimicked her greeting.
'Cheeky,' Abbey murmured, hiding a smile and taking the chair he held out for her.
'I always say, start as you mean to go on and at least now the locals will know I'm a friendly soul. I must say this all looks very civilised,' he sidetracked, looking around the precincts. And suddenly, he felt a lift in his spirits. Already he was sensing something special here in Abbey's world, not least the slower pace. His expression closed thoughtfully and he sat back in his chair, the better to take in his surroundings.
Fat candles on the wooden tables were giving out an atmosphere of light and shadow. And there was a sheen on the leaves of the outdoor plants dotting the perimeter of the raised timber platform, the fairy lights strung between them twinkling like so many diamonds. Or stars, he substituted, slightly embarrassed at his attempt at poetic language.
Tipping his head back, he looked up, his gaze widening in awe. The slender winter moon looked almost like an intruder amongst the canopy of stars, some of which looked close enough to touch, bright, like welcoming windows of light in a vast darkened abyss, while the myriad of others were scattered far and wide like so much fairy dust in the swept enormous heavens.
'Stunning.' Nick's voice was hushed.
Wordlessly, Abbey followed his gaze and felt her heart contract. 'Yes,' she agreed in a small voice, and didn't object when his fingers sought hers and tightened.
'You...haven't mentioned Todd.' The words slipped a bit disjointedly from Abbey. They were halfway through their roast dinners, their glasses of smooth merlot almost untouched beside their plates.
Nick gave her a brief, narrowed look and then dropped his gaze. 'I wasn't sure if the subject was taboo. But to answer the question you're probably burning to ask, he's going great guns. Even talking of getting involved in the sporting wheelies. In fact, I believe Ben Bristow, one of our champions from the Sydney paralympics, has been to see him.'
'Oh, that's fabulous. Sunningdale couldn't have managed anything like that for him,' Abbey said with quiet honesty. 'I imagine Todd would take to any kind of sporting challenge like a duck to water.'
'And Ben's influence will be invaluable.' Nick picked up his glass unhurriedly and took a mouthful of wine. 'His own story is not dissimilar to Todd's. Ben was a brilliant athlete, training for a triathlon event, when his spinal column was damaged after a road accident. It happened about five years ago. But he picked himself up, and now his list of sporting achievements would put an able-bodied athlete to shame. Consequently, he's become a bit of a hero, especially to disabled kids. He and Todd would seem to have that in common as well.'
Nick put his glass down and went quietly on with his meal, leaving Abbey feeling less than proud of how she'd berated him about his handling of Todd's care. 'I should apologise,' she said, and Nick arched an eyebrow.
'About how I reacted, when you told me what had been decided about Todd.' Her downcast lashes fanned darkly across her cheekbones. 'I—I know it's no excuse, but I felt, as his GP, I'd been left entirely out of the consultative process.'
His mouth compressed. 'I never in a million years would have wanted you to feel I'd put you down in some way. So that's why you let loose on me.' He smiled a bit crookedly, as if recalling the conversation. 'I must admit I was confused about your reaction.'
Abbey picked absently at her food. 'Perhaps I was feeling a bit ...intense about things when you called.'
'Perhaps we both were,' he concurred quietly.
An awkward silence descended over them, until Nick rescued the situation smoothly. 'You know you were way off the track about Amanda Steele, Abbey. I didn't hijack her to the detriment of Sunningdale. Her moving to the Dennison was a reciprocal arrangement with one of the OTs there. And it's only a temporary arrangement until Todd gains enough confidence in his ability to cope.'
'Now I feel doubly foolish,' Abbey wailed. 'And on the phone, I must have sounded so...'
'Insecure?' Nick prompted with a smile.
'All right—insecure,' Abbey echoed in a small voice but nearly smili
ng.
'So...' He put his hand out towards her. 'Have we sorted that out now? Put an end to your... insecurities?'
She held her breath, looking straight into his eyes, feeling the sensual charge of his thumb tracing the top of her hand. Every nerve in her body was singing with sensation. Her heart thumped against her ribs and she wondered starkly whether, instead, her insecurities around this man were just beginning...
When she woke next morning, Abbey couldn't shake off the feeling of unreality.
But within seconds the soft closing of Nick's bedroom door and his muffled footsteps along the hall put paid to any fanciful idea that she may have dreamed his presence under her roof.
But where on earth was he going at this ungodly hour? She frowned at the clock-radio on her bedside table and stifled a groan. The man's mad, she decided, turning over and pulling the duvet up to her chin.
She was in the kitchen and dressed for work when she discovered the reason for him disappearing so early.
'Morning, Abbey.' He surged into the kitchen via the back door.
Her eyebrows lifted. 'You've been out running!'
Nick gave a warm, rich chuckle. 'Give the lady a prize for observation.' He'd obviously discarded his trainers in the adjoining laundry. He padded across the tiled floor in his thick sports socks. Looking thoroughly at home, he helped himself from the jug of orange juice Abbey had squeezed earlier and left on the counter. 'May I?' The glass was already halfway to his lips.
She nodded, suddenly utterly aware of the very essence of him. Heavens, he stripped well. She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. He was wearing black shorts and a black and white striped football jersey that had obviously seen better days, but that only served to make him look deliciously rumpled and as sexy as—
'Where did you go?' She held tightly on to her tea- mug, trying not to notice the ripple of his thigh muscles and the faint sheen of healthy male sweat in the shallow dip of his collar-bone where the neck of his jersey had fallen open.
'Someone's paddock, I think.' He drained his glass and refilled it halfway. 'I did a couple of laps of the helipad and then I climbed through the fence near the lagoon.'