Flying Doctors

by Fiona Lowe

  Sexy? This is Emily. Get a grip.

  She rocked back and forth on her boot heels. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Yep.’ He grinned at her.

  Her mouth twitched. ‘You don’t think you’re celebrating just a tad too soon?’

  ‘Nope.’ He lined up the third ball.

  He felt her warmth as she stepped up next to him and moved in close. ‘You really think that will work for you?’ The whispered words feather-stroked his ear.

  He turned, laughing, his gaze fused with hers, catching a streak of pure good-natured banter. Pleasure unfurled deep within, streaming out to all parts of him, visiting uncharted places. ‘Attempting to cast doubt in the mind of your competitor, are you? I thought you were better than that.’

  She gave him a brazen smile. ‘A girl has to try.’

  But she had no idea how to try. Not a clue. If she did she’d be using her body the way most women did to get what they wanted. She’d waggle that cute behind and wear a low-cut shirt and distract him that way.

  Just like Tamara had. She’d used her body as bait and reeled him in, hook, line and sinker. Then she’d had him for dinner, emotionally and financially.

  But Emily wasn’t Tamara. Far from it.

  He’d only ever seen Emily in overly big uniforms or baggy casual gear. Tonight, for the first time, he’d more than glimpsed the surprisingly curvaceous body that nestled beneath. A body that deserved to be on show instead of hidden away under questionable clothing choices.

  He’d always imagined she would have a dumpy body—the clothes she wore certainly gave that impression. But, truth be told, he’d never really imagined anything much about her until recently. Emily was Emily—great nurse, great fun, a mate, just like one of the boys.

  The memory of her cleavage and cute behind lit up in his mind. One of the boys? I don’t think so.

  Emily, it seemed, was all woman. So why was she hiding herself?

  ‘Hurry up!’ She nudged him gently in the ribs with her elbow. ‘A quick game’s a good game.’

  He peered down at her, using his height to humorously intimidate her. ‘You want to be beaten quickly, do you? Get the pain over with sooner?’

  ‘You are so dreaming.’ Amusement danced across her cheeks.

  He pocketed another ball. ‘Is that so?’

  She took a long look at the table and spun her forefinger around her necklace. ‘I think your dream run is just about over, mate.’

  He studied the lie of the balls. He hated to admit it, but she might be right. All the low balls had rolled close to the pockets. He picked up the cue bridge and put it in position.

  ‘Tricky shot, that one.’ She grinned unashamedly.

  At a high angle he tapped the white ball gently. It clipped one of Emily’s balls and tumbled into the pocket. ‘Blast.’ But the word lacked conviction. For some strange reason his usual desire to win had ebbed, and he didn’t really mind that he’d missed the shot.

  Now you get to watch her play. He shook away the foolish thought. ‘Over to you.’

  ‘Now let me show you how it’s done.’ She spun her cue in her hands and chuckled, a husky, vibrato sound that whipped around him, searing and sultry.

  Heat slammed through him.

  She put away ball after ball, looking up after each success, tossing him merciless smiles as her eyes sent silver lights cascading over him. The black eight disappeared with a thud.

  He’d never enjoyed being beaten so much.

  He got the balls ready for another game. ‘This time you won’t be so lucky.’

  ‘Lin, darling, here you are.’ Penelope wrinkled her nose as she picked her way through the crowd. ‘I thought we were meeting in the dining room?’ She tilted her cheek toward him for an expected kiss.

  Hell. He’d completely forgotten about Penelope. He gave her a perfunctory kiss. ‘Sorry, Pen. I was helping out Baden Tremont.’

  She glanced around. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, and he did such a good job.’ Emily’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as her eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘He just lost at pool.’

  Penelope frowned and glanced between the two of them as if she was missing something. ‘How is that doing well?’

  ‘Ah, well, the loser has to donate twenty dollars to the Flying Doctors.’

  Linton pulled out his wallet. ‘Hey, you told Baden the kitty was ten dollars.’

  Emily laid her cue on the table. ‘True, but that’s ’cos he’s on staff. You’re not and foreigners pay more.’ Her stare challenged him to dispute her.

  He knew she was making this up on the spot, but he was hardly going to complain seeing as the money was for a worthy cause. He tilted his head toward hers. ‘Don’t forget, you’re a foreigner too now you’ve crossed to the dark side of Warragurra Base.’ He pressed the orange bill into her hand.

  She stilled for a brief moment and then laughed. ‘Ah, but I’m on loan, remember. I’m not exclusively yours.’

  Her fingers trailed along his palm as she curled her fingers around the note. A spark of tingling heat shot along his arm.

  Penelope tugged at his sleeve. ‘We need to go.’ Her voice sounded unusually sharp.

  ‘Enjoy your dinner.’ Emily’s friendly wishes sent Linton on his way.

  ‘We will.’ Penelope hooked her arm through his, her voice almost purring.

  He glanced over his shoulder as they left the bar and saw Emily chatting vivaciously with Jason. His gut clenched. What the hell was going on with him tonight? He had a beautiful woman on his arm and an entertaining night ahead of him.

  So why did he feel like he was walking away from something he’d miss?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EMILY vigorously rubbed the whiteboard clean. ‘Top job, everyone. We’ve cleared the place quickly today.’ She smiled at Jason and Patti, who were starting to exhibit signs that one day they really would be good doctors. ‘You can go for tea as soon as Jodie gets back.’

  ‘Great.’ Jason exchanged a look with Patti and turned back to face Emily. ‘When we get back, will you have time to help us with suturing? We’re in a bit of a mess with our foam arm.’

  ‘Sure, give me a shout when you get back and we’ll run over it. It can be confusing at first.’

  ‘What can?’ Linton appeared as if out of the blue, a pile of folders in his arms.

  Emily turned and focused on smiling. At the same time she tried to settle the run of funny beats that her heart whipped off whenever she heard his voice. He had this habit of ‘just appearing’, and each time her already frayed nerves unravelled a bit more.

  ‘Suturing can be tricky. Jason and Patti are after another demo. You’re not looking too frantic.’

  He tapped his folders. ‘Sorry, I’ve got a meeting. Besides, they’re better off with you.’ He glanced over her head at the students. ‘Emily’s stitches are so neat she probably won cross-stitch awards at the Warragurra Show.’

  Her adolescence flashed before her, absent of all girlish pursuits, no matter how much she might have longed for them. Her mother’s death had left her in a male world, making being a girly-girl almost impossible. ‘Now, that would be a snap gender judgement, Dr Gregory.’ She neatened up a pile of notepads, lining up the corners and tapping the sides together. ‘As a teenager I was too busy branding cattle and drenching sheep to be crocheting doilies.’

  She shook her head and caught a glimpse of emerald eyes watching her carefully, their gaze questioning. She instantly realised that, instead of her tone being flippant and dismissive, the words had come out full of regret.

  ‘My mother died when I was ten and Dad wasn’t into crafts.’ The words rushed out before she could stop them. Why had she felt the need to tell him that? She quickly cleared her throat and turned back to Jason and Patti. ‘Right, then. I can see Jodie just walking in so you two shoo to tea.’

  The students walked off and Emily continued to tidy up around Linton, who had perched himself in the middle of the desk. She could feel his stare
on her.

  He spoke softly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d lost your mum at such a young age.’

  She bit her lip and gave a brief nod, acknowledging that she’d heard him. She really didn’t want to talk about this—not now in the middle of the A and E. She pulled open the filing cabinet. ‘It’s almost two o’clock, you’ll be late for your meeting.’

  ‘Are you pushing me out of my own department?’ He grinned his easy, bone-melting smile.

  Rivers of yearning rolled through her, pulling at every barricade she’d erected in her attempt to stay immune to him. Immune. What a joke.

  But joking was part of her repertoire to stay strong. ‘Yes, I’m pushing you out. Surely you knew when you hired me that I didn’t like doctors cluttering up the place? We’ve no patients so you’re not needed.’

  He gave her a hangdog look. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

  She laughed. ‘You should have thought of that before you bribed me to work here. Go to your meeting or you might just end up dusted and filed.’

  His eyes darkened to a deep jade. ‘That could be fun.’

  The phone rang as her cheeks burned at his blatant flirting. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going down that path but Linton made it all too easy to take the wrong road. As she picked up the phone she mouthed, ‘Go,’ and pointed to the door.

  He tugged his forelock and walked out, whistling.

  ‘A and E. Emily Tippett speaking.’

  ‘Em, it’s Trix Baxter.’ The school nurse from Warragurra High School spoke down the line. ‘I’m just pulling up outside now with Samantha Joseph. She sort of collapsed at netball and went over on her ankle. She might have blacked out but she needs to be checked out. Can you bring out a wheelchair?’

  ‘Be there in a sec, Trix.’ Emily hung up the phone and walked toward the doors with a wheelchair.

  She met a tall teenager coming toward her, hopping and leaning heavily on Trix’s arm.

  ‘I guess you must be Samantha. I’m Emily. Take a seat.’ She put the brakes on the wheelchair.

  Breathless and pale, Samantha grimaced and then lowered herself into the chair with Emily’s help. ‘Thanks.’

  Trix frowned. ‘Sorry, Emily, but I have to get back to school and we haven’t been able to contact Sam’s mother.’

  Emily swung the wheelchair around. ‘Don’t worry. Leave all the contact details with Reception and they’ll keep trying.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Trix bent down next to Samantha. ‘Sam, they’ll look after you here. I’m sure it’s just a bad sprain but it’s best to get it X-rayed.’ She patted her arm.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Baxter.’ The girl closed her eyes as if the effort to speak was almost too much.

  ‘Let’s get you inside and have a good look at this ankle.’ Emily briskly pushed the wheelchair into A and E. ‘What position were you playing?’

  ‘Goal defence.’ The girl’s hands fidgeted in her lap.

  Emily helped her up onto the trolley. ‘We’ll have to put you into one of those totally gorgeous hospital gowns for the X-ray.’ She smiled, trying to relax the girl. ‘But first of all we’ll get you some ice for the ankle and some pain relief so that it won’t hurt so much to get undressed.’

  ‘OK.’ She suddenly looked a lot younger than her fifteen years.

  Emily quickly grabbed the blue sports-injury ice pack from the fridge, wrapped it in a towel and came back into the cubicle. ‘I’ll just put this on your ankle.’ She rested her hand on the bottom of Sam’s tracksuit pants and went to pull them up.

  ‘Leave them, I’m cold.’ Sam leaned forward, her hands sitting firmly on the hems of her pants, as if she didn’t want the material slid up her leg. ‘Can’t the ice pack just sit on the top of my ankle?’

  ‘Sure.’ Emily put it in place, surprised at the sudden energy the previously lethargic girl showed.

  ‘OK, now I need to do some observations. First your pulse.’ She pulled her fob watch out of her pocket.

  The girl stuck out her arm, her fine wrist looking ludicrously tiny peeking out of an oversized rugby top.

  A rapid beat pulsed under Emily’s fingers. She started counting. The fast throb jumped against her fingers. She frowned and continued counting. It jumped again. ‘Sam, did you black out on the netball court?’

  ‘Dunno.’ She stared at the wall, avoiding Emily’s eyes.

  She probed gently, needing information but not wanting to upset the girl. ‘Did you feel dizzy or light-headed?’

  Sam spoke quickly. ‘I think I just got bumped too hard.’ Her left hand started to finger the edge of the blanket, a red rash on her fingertips obvious against the pale wool.

  Emily’s radar went on alert. Something odd was going on. She flicked on the cardiac monitor and sorted out the leads. ‘We’re going to have to put that hospital gown on a bit earlier than I thought, Sam.’ She held up a packet of dots. ‘I need to put these on your chest so I can see your heartbeat on the monitor.’

  ‘I want to keep my own clothes on.’ Sam’s mouth pouted in displeasure.

  ‘You can put your rugby top back on over the gown.’ She helped the girl lean forward and assisted her in pulling the top over her head. The netball top came off with it.

  Shock reverberated through every part of Emily as she worked to stall the gasp in her throat. Every rib of Sam’s body pushed her thin skin out and her scapulas protruded. Not a trace of covering fat existed.

  Acting as if she hadn’t noticed, she quickly helped the girl’s stick-like arms into the sleeves of the gown.

  ‘I’m cold,’ Sam complained.

  ‘I’ll have you warm in a minute and you can wear your jacket over the gown as well as being tucked up in a blanket.’ She quickly attached the dots, connected the leads and plugged in the monitor.

  The ECG blipped reassuringly as each beat of the heart traced across the screen in bright green waves, showing a normal sinus rhythm.

  Perhaps she’d imagined the irregular pulse. ‘You can put your top back on now.’ Emily turned the sleeves the right way round and passed it to her. The machine suddenly beeped rapidly.

  ‘What’s that?’ Sam glanced anxiously at the monitor.

  ‘Your heart just gave off an odd beat. ‘Do you feel funny?’

  ‘No.’ Fear lit the young girl’s eyes.

  ‘Well, that’s good, but I’m just going to get Dr Gregory to have a look at you.’ She passed the buzzer. ‘Call me if you need me but I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She strode quickly to the desk, picked up the phone and punched the number of Linton’s mobile into the keypad.

  He answered immediately, his crisp, professional voice reassuring her as well as giving her own heart some funny beats. She tried to sound equally crisp and professional. ‘Linton, I’ve got a fifteen-year-old throwing off ectopic beats.’

  He didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m on my way.’

  Instantly, the phone went dead in her ear. She phoned Reception. ‘Tracey, I need Samantha Joseph’s history asap and have you got onto her parents yet?’

  ‘I’m bringing the history round and we’ve left messages for the mother.’ Tracey’s efficiency made life in A and E much easier.

  ‘Thanks, Trace.’ She dropped the phone into the cradle and jogged into the supply room, picking up a saline drip and setting up an IV trolley.

  ‘So you got rid of me too early, then?’

  She swung around and caught Linton’s teasing smile and flash of white teeth. ‘So it seems. Samantha Joseph came in with a sprained ankle after collapsing at netball, but my concern is that she’s throwing off a few extra heartbeats.’ She pushed the trolley toward the door. ‘Come and see what you think.’

  Linton ushered her into the cubicle and greeted their patient. ‘Hi, Samantha, I’m Linton Gregory, and I’m the doctor on duty today. Emily tells me you’ve been in the wars.’ He smiled his golden smile. ‘Tough game, netball.’

  Samantha giggled and batted her eyelashes while her heart rate visibly leapt on
the monitor.

  Emily silently groaned. She knew her own heart rate did a similar thing when Linton smiled at her—the man charmed every woman in sight. It was what he did with effortless ease. She’d had to work so hard being casual and friendly to get Samantha to co-operate and all Linton had to do was smile.

  ‘I just want to listen to your lungs so if you can pull up your top, I’ll make sure the stethoscope’s warmed up.’

  ‘OK.’

  Sam leaned forward with such unexpected compliance that Emily hardly recognised her as she helped her lift her top.

  Shock, frustration and pity scored Linton’s normal urbane face as he caught sight of Sam’s desperately thin frame. He listened intently to her air entry, which Emily knew was really an excuse to examine her back and view the evidence that this girl was indeed starving.

  He swung his stethoscope around his neck. ‘That sounds fine. Now, what about this ankle?’ He pushed up her tracksuit pants and placed his large, tanned hands around her ankle, feeling for broken bones. But again Emily knew it was also a chance to examine her legs for signs of self-harm. ‘I don’t think you’ve broken it.’

  He leaned his arms casually against the cot-side of the trolley and stared intently at the monitor.

  ‘Coupled premature ventricular complex?’ Emily wanted confirmation that she was actually seeing the paired abnormal beats, as there had been a long period since that last couplet.

  Linton nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. ‘They’re just occasional so we’ll monitor her for now.’

  He turned back to Sam. ‘Your ankle will be fine. I’m actually more worried about the funny little beats of your heart.’

  ‘Why would it be doing that?’

  He breathed in deeply. ‘That’s what we want to find out. Emily’s going to take some blood and put a drip in your arm.’

  ‘Oh, are you going?’ Sam’s crestfallen expression radiated dismay.

  ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ He gave her an easy smile and pressed a button to print a readout from the monitor.