Flying Doctors

by Fiona Lowe

  Her head shot up, her face suddenly full of strength. ‘The day I found him in our bed with another student, I left.’

  He reached out and picked up her hand. ‘Good for you. You’re far too good for a worm like him.’ But although she’d walked away from this low-life, he could tell she still had the scars.

  Emily smiled a wobbly smile. ‘Thanks, but I’m OK. You don’t have to try and make me feel better.’

  I think I do. He had to make her realise she was attractive. Had to try and undo some of the low-life’s conditioning. Sure, she wasn’t his type of woman but she needed to know that she had qualities that deserved to be showcased. ‘What he said about you not being attractive is wrong. Don’t you think that four years is long enough to hold onto false impressions?’

  A thousand different emotions swirled in her eyes and marched across her face, but fear dominated. She pulled her hand out from under his.

  ‘You’re twenty-five now, Emily. It’s time to come out of the shadows.’

  She twisted on her chair and flung him a derisive look. ‘I’ll put it on my “to do” list.’

  If he let her leave now, nothing would be sorted out. She’d never take the risk. He had to force her to take that step. An idea suddenly exploded in his head. Sure, it wasn’t quite what he’d planned but an evening with Emily wouldn’t be hard. And he knew Emily never walked away from a dare.

  He pulled open his top drawer and plucked out an envelope. ‘The Red Cross Desperate and Dateless Ball is on this weekend.’

  Her shoulders shot back, her scrubs pulling against her breasts, and her eyes widened, indignation flashing brightly. ‘I am not desperate.’

  He ignored the zip of sensation that zeroed in on his groin. She had no idea how sexy she looked when she got all fired up. He forced himself to lean back, to act casually. ‘You’re not dateless either. I dare you to come with me in a little black dress.’

  Her hand immediately fisted in her hair, her forefinger tugging at a curl, winding the purple strands around it.

  He glimpsed panic before it receded, quickly replaced by a spark of defiance.

  Silently, she rose to her feet and walked to the door. She turned as her hand clasped the handle. ‘I’ll think about it and be in touch.’

  She disappeared behind the door, the only evidence that she’d been in the room was the waft of perfume she’d left behind.

  He couldn’t believe he’d misread her, that she wouldn’t rise to his dare. The axis of his world shifted slightly as disappointment, sharp and unexpected, churned his gut.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘SO HOW’S the new job with Linton working out?’ Emily’s friend and Flying Doctors nurse Kate Tremont put a cup of steaming hot Earl Grey tea down on a coaster.

  Emily groaned and buried her head in her arms, leaning against Kate’s large jarrah kitchen table.

  ‘That good, huh?’

  She looked up into smiling brown eyes and forced herself to sit up. ‘The work part is fine.’

  Kate shot her a calculating look. ‘Is there actually some truth to Baden’s theory, then, that you fancy Linton?’

  She almost choked on her tea. What on earth had happened to her? For years she’d kept everything to herself but just lately she’d said things that opened her up to difficult questions. Her embarrassing yet strangely cathartic conversation with Linton had rolled through her head almost continuously for three days straight. Now Kate was onto her.

  ‘Emily?’ Kate’s expression had changed from calculating to concerned. ‘Is everything OK?’

  Emily sighed. ‘Do you have any chocolate-coated teddy-bear biscuits? If I have to tell you this story I’m going to need chocolate.’

  Kate rose gracefully and rummaged through the pantry. ‘Even better, I have Florentines from the bakery.’ She quickly put them on a square white dish and placed them in front of Emily. ‘Will three be enough?’

  Emily grinned. ‘Plenty.’ Kate was a good friend and Emily had been thrilled when she’d married Baden Tremont, finding happiness after such a dark time in her life. She wished she’d known such a friend when she’d been younger, when she’d been in Dubbo.

  ‘So?’ Kate nibbled on a Florentine.

  She took a deep breath. ‘So, Linton asked me to the Desperate and Dateless Ball.’

  Kate leaned forward. ‘Excellent. And you’re going?’

  Emily ran her finger around the rim of the teacup. ‘I told him I’d think about it but really I meant no.’

  ‘And the reason for that would be…?’

  She bit her lip and pushed on. ‘Because he dared me to wear a dress.’

  Kate’s forehead creased in a frown. ‘But isn’t that the sort of thing you’d be wearing anyway?’

  Panic swished through her stomach. ‘This is me we’re talking about, Kate. Jeans, jumpers and boots, the occasional voluminous dress—practical clothes.’

  ‘And that’s fine for the farm, Em, but not for a ball.’ Kate folded her arms and fixed her with a penetrating look. ‘What are you really worried about?’

  Her fear rushed out, tumbling over the words. ‘That I’ll look ridiculous. I’ve never done anything like this before and I’m not designed for elegance, I’m—’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Kate’s hand hit the table with a loud slap. ‘We just need to find you the right dress to show off what you’ve got.’

  I don’t have anything. Part of her wanted to believe Kate but most of her didn’t. ‘Oh, right, and Warragurra’s one dress shop is going to have that dress? I don’t think so, which is why I have to say no.’ She glared at Kate. ‘I will not make a fool of myself.’

  ‘I won’t let you do that.’ The quiet words were delivered with feeling.

  And she knew Kate spoke the truth. Tall and graceful, she had an innate sense of style and Emily knew she’d be in good hands. For a moment the sincerity in Kate’s voice reassured her, but then the terrors instilled by Nathan rose again. Cover yourself up, you don’t want to put people off their dinner.

  Linton’s warm voice vibrated inside her. Men like that don’t love, they only want to control. She tried to hold onto that thought, pushing Nathan’s legacy out.

  ‘Do you want to snag Linton’s attention and have him see you in a new way, not as Unit Manager, not as a friend, but as a woman?’

  Her stomach churned, driving acid to the back of her throat. ‘I… Well, part of me does.’ But what if I’m a disappointment? That fear had plagued her since high school and more so since she’d left Nathan. It had held her back from ever thinking about another relationship.

  Kate smiled. ‘Then the solution is easy. We’re going to Sydney and we’re buying a dress.’

  The sensation of being on a runaway train exploded inside her and she scrambled for some control. ‘I can’t just go to Sydney.’ Her voice rose a little higher on each word.

  ‘Sure you can. We’ve both got days off. I’ll book the flights now. Sasha can come with us, she’ll love an excuse to shop in Sydney.’ Kate clapped in delight. ‘It will be a girls’ day out, and as Linton dared you to wear the dress, he can pay.’

  Kate handed Emily the phone. ‘Ring him now and tell him you’re going to the ball.’

  Kate’s eyes glinted with determination and Emily knew right there and then that there was no way out. She’d never realised Cinderella’s fairy godmother must have doubled as a bulldozer.

  Emily stood shaking in black, lacy underwear, sheer stockings and high heels, staring at the little black dress she’d gone to Sydney to buy. She wished Kate and Sasha Tremont were standing with her right now. Kate had insisted this was the dress. Sasha, at twelve, had wanted her to buy the one with the large pink bow.

  When she’d baulked at the dress Kate had run roughshod over every excuse and had declared this to be the dress to impress. A traitorous part of her so wanted to impress that she’d given in entirely and gone with Kate’s choice.

  Linton’s comments about Nathan had bolstered her confidence into a
shaky self-belief. Perhaps Nathan had been wrong. His words still played in her head but the volume was low and the sound quality buzzed with static.

  But now with Linton about to arrive, panic clawed at her. What had she let Kate and Linton talk her into? She stared at her reflection, not recognising the person staring back. Her carefully styled hair curved around her face and her make-up looked straight out of a magazine, courtesy of the beautician who had written down detailed instructions for her.

  The dress was the last piece of the puzzle.

  Putting it on was technically the easy part. Facing her father and her brothers, facing Linton, had her stomach doing continuous somersaults.

  Her fingers fumbled as she fastened her mother’s pearls around her neck. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-five, didn’t matter that she was an experienced nurse—she couldn’t walk out there. What if she got the same reaction that Nathan had given her?

  Her legs wobbled like jelly.

  I dare you to come with me. Linton’s teasing words echoed in her head again, just like they’d been doing for the last week.

  ‘Hey, sis, there’s a car coming up the drive.’ Mark rapped on her door.

  Her heart pounded so hard that she glanced down, expecting to see it moving against her chest. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t go out there.

  Her mouth dried at the alternative. Her father and brothers would demand to know why. Telling Linton about Nathan had been bad enough. She had to go out in this dress.

  ‘Em, you OK?’ Mark’s muffled voice came under the door.

  ‘Yes, fine.’ She forced the words out against her constricted throat and reached for the dress.

  With shaking fingers she slipped it over her head.

  Linton bounded up the farmhouse steps, pulling on his dinner jacket at the same time. He’d been late getting away and he really regretted it. He had a niggling feeling that being ten minutes late could be enough to make Emily bail on him.

  He’d been pleasantly surprised when he’d taken her phone call saying she’d come to the ball. And he’d laughed when she’d matched his dare by telling him he was paying for the dress. Parting with a few hundred dollars for a dress was a small price to pay if he could help her redefine herself.

  He knew she’d bought a dress because he’d received a phone call from the exclusive Sydney Double Bay boutique. But would she wear it? All day he’d half expected a text saying she wasn’t coming.

  The front door opened as he approached and a solid, middle-aged man extended his hand in greeting. ‘Jim Tippett.’

  ‘Linton Gregory.’ He returned the strong handshake.

  ‘Come in.’ Jim stretched out his arm. ‘Have you met Mark, Stuart and Eric, three of Emily’s brothers?’

  The men stood in a semi-circle, their wide-legged stance declaring this was their territory. They all nodded in silent greeting and shook his hand. Time rolled back to what he imagined life would have been like forty years ago. Linton had the distinct impression he was being assessed for suitability to date their sister.

  ‘We thought you might have missed the turn-off in the dark.’ Jim raised one reddish brow.

  Linton read the code encrypted in the statement. You’re late—never make a woman wait.

  ‘Dad, ten minutes late means Linton is actually on time.’

  All the men spun around toward the slightly husky voice. Emily stood at the edge of the room, clutching a tiny beaded evening bag, her eyes silver and hesitant.

  Linton’s breath stalled in his chest as a wave of heat thudded through him.

  Her purple hair had vanished. Now Titian curls hovered around her cheeks, softening her face the way natural hair colour did. But her hair was only one change.

  A fitted black lace bodice clung to more curves than he could ever have imagined existed under the sack-like clothes she normally wore. Bare, creamy shoulders teased the eye but the bombshell was the drop pearl necklace that nestled in the dip between her breasts, hinting at the generous softness that hid behind the dress.

  A froth of tulle fell from a tiny waist, the layers finishing just below her knees. Shapely legs narrowed down to small feet, which were clad in strappy sandals, giving her extra height and an aura of elegance that he’d never associated with Emily.

  The transformation stole all coherent thought.

  ‘Who are you and what have you done with my sister?’ Mark broke the stunned silence with a cheeky grin.

  Jim beamed proudly. ‘Don’t listen to your brother. You’re all grown up and you look as beautiful as your mother did the first time I met her.’

  ‘Really?’ Emily’s tongue darted out and flicked at her glossy bottom lip.

  Silver lights flashed danced in Linton’s head as his blood pounded south.

  ‘Of course you do.’ Jim kissed her on the cheek and spoke again, this time his voice full of emotion. ‘I probably should have told you that more often.’ He turned abruptly to Linton, a chuckle on his lips. ‘You all right, son?’

  The words penetrated the inert haze of Linton’s brain and he realised he’d been standing silently, staring like a fourteen-year-old. He propelled himself into action. He presented his arm to Emily. ‘Your chariot awaits, Ms Tippett.’

  She grinned and slid her arm through his, the slight weight of her arm fitting against his as if it had been made to sit there. As if it belonged there.

  He immediately shrugged the feeling away.

  Tonight was just an extension of work and Emily was his partner just for the evening.

  The Royal’s ballroom was almost unrecognisable. Red velvet fabric draped the furniture and red chiffon covered the walls, the filmy material softening the large area. Pearly red helium balloons filled the enormous ceiling space, their silver curling ribbon tails sparkling in the faux candlelight. Even the huge cherub ice statue was backlit by a red spotlight.

  Linton took a break and drank some non-alcoholic fruit punch, which was, of course, red. He’d danced with almost every attractive woman at the ball, but he’d battled to get a passing glance from his partner for the evening. Far too many attentive cowboys were dancing with her. Ben McCreedy had held her very tightly with his good arm and Daniel and Jason had been acting like lust-struck puppies all night.

  Oh, right, and you haven’t?

  The image of Emily standing hesitantly in her father’s lounge room with the naked need of approval hovering in her eyes and a body that could have modelled swimwear had branded itself deeply in his mind. And it kept playing over and over and over.

  He tugged at his collar, suddenly finding the bow-tie constricting. Funny, in Sydney he wore black tie once a fortnight and the tie had never bothered him. Usually he enjoyed these gala events where everyone dressed up and raised money for a worthwhile cause. Even though he hadn’t been short of company tonight, his usual sense of freedom that came from numerous dance partners and plenty of conversation seemed to have deserted him. He rolled his shoulders back. It was like he had an unscratchable itch, making him prickly and out of sorts.

  He scanned the room again for Emily, but without her signature bright hair she was harder to spot. He batted away some red helium balloons, which had started to hover lower, their tails hitting him across his face. He finally found her dancing with Baden.

  He moved in, tapping the Flying Doctor’s shoulder. ‘Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife?’

  Baden laughed. ‘Well, I suppose as you paid for the dress, you should get at least one dance.’ He spun Emily out of his arms and into Linton’s.

  Sparkling eyes appraised him with a familiar mocking glint as they swayed to a rock and roll tune. ‘You’ve been busy tonight.’

  A sliver of umbrage caught him. ‘Hey, I could say the same thing about you.’

  She laughed, the tone flirting and wicked. ‘I was just keeping busy until there was a break in the queue of women wanting to dance with you. After all, I wouldn’t want your reputation as Warragurra’s resident playboy to be ruined by you
dancing with me twice.’ She spun out in a twirl.

  He brought her back, his arm firm against her waist, her breasts brushing his chest. A tingle of sensation burned through him. ‘My reputation will survive me dancing more than two dances.’ But will you?

  The voice in his head was forgotten as he caught a flash of surprise in her eyes. Hell, did she really think he hadn’t wanted to dance with her? He’d tried many times to, but the line for her had been as constant as his own. Surely after the success of tonight she no longer thought she was unattractive?

  He dropped his head close to hers, his chin almost resting on her shoulder, and whispered, ‘And who knew you had red hair?’

  She twirled out laughing and came back facing him, wrinkling her decidedly cute nose. ‘Yeah, well, don’t even think about going there. That was another torment in my life. Red hair and freckles.’

  The music slowed and he felt her back stiffen as if she was about to walk away. He tightened his arm and drew her fractionally closer. Even in heels her head would fit neatly under his chin if she wasn’t holding her neck rigid with her chin pointed upward in that, oh, so familiar position.

  Her perfume circled him, its sensual spice now so in tune with its wearer. ‘You look completely sensational tonight.’

  She stared up at him, her eyes like platinum pools. ‘Thank you. And thanks for the dress.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ It was a standard response—one he used many times a day when he received thanks. Except the wave of uncomplicated happiness that rolled through him, followed by a trailing alien sense of wellbeing, was far from standard. Nothing about this night was standard.

  Emily’s brain struggled to keep up with everything that had happened from the moment she had stepped into the Royal’s ballroom. It was like her world had been turned upside down and she was dizzy, trying to adjust to all the changes. Granted, she’d avoided social functions like this but even so she’d been stunned by the response she’d received from both men and women.