by H. Y. Hanna
Sara watched in disbelief as the woman and her two children began following him down the hallway. They had gotten here after her! How come he was seeing them first? Sara felt a surge of anger and, without thinking, jumped up from her seat and rushed down the hallway after them.
“Hey! Wait!” she cried, reaching out to grab the vet’s arm.
He swung around to face her and Sara dropped her hand in surprise. His eyes were blue, but not soft blue like her own eyes—no, they were a deep cerulean, vivid and intense in a tanned face that was dominated by a strong nose, chiselled jawline and thin, sensual lips. His hair was a rich brown, waving slightly back from his forehead, and his shoulders beneath the white coat were broad and powerful. Sara took a slight step back. She didn’t know what she had expected, but somehow she hadn’t expected the vet to be this… hunky?
Feeling ashamed of her thoughts and her sudden awareness of him, Sara started babbling. “I… my dog… I mean, it’s not my dog, but I found him… on the beach… anyway, he’s hurt… you need to see him…”
His brows drew together. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to attend to this patient first. If you’ll take a seat—”
“I have been taking a seat!” cried Sara. She pointed to the woman holding the puppy. “I got here before them! How come you’re seeing them first—”
“This is an emergency,” he said shortly.
“So is mine! My dog is bleeding. He’s hurt and in pain! You need to do something—”
“This puppy has been bitten by a paralysis tick. Unless he is seen immediately, he could die. Now, I understand your concern, but I assume your dog has been assessed by the nurse, yes?” His eyes flicked over her head towards the receptionist’s counter. “If it had been really serious, she would have come to inform me. Otherwise, we have to treat the cases according to medical priority. This puppy needs urgent attention now. I’m sorry if you find it frustrating, but your dog will just have to wait.”
His tone was soft, but the sharpness in his words still came through. Sara stepped back, feeling like she had been slapped. Flushing with embarrassment, she returned to her seat, not daring to look at any of the other pet owners in the waiting room. She knew that they had been sitting there a lot longer than her and they had all been waiting patiently.
Sara forced herself to sit without fidgeting as the minutes ticked past. Finally, she heard the sound of a door opening and saw the family filing back down the hall. The puppy was not with them. The woman’s eyes were red and the children had obviously been crying. Sara felt a stab of guilt. But before she could think more about it, she saw the tall form of Dr Murray following them. He bent and said something to the two children, patting them on the shoulder, then ushered them over to the receptionist. Then he turned and surveyed the waiting room.
His blue eyes met Sara’s and he gave a curt nod. “I can see you now.”
CHAPTER 4
Keeping her chin high, Sara scooped the Beagle up in her arms and walked past the handsome vet. As he shut the door to the examination room, she carefully deposited the Beagle on the table and stood back as he reached for the dog. She watched as he listened to the dog’s heart with a stethoscope, took his temperature, probed his abdomen, and went through an advanced version of the receptionist’s initial check outside. His blue eyes were intent, his touch gentle but thorough, and he talked softly to the Beagle as he worked. Finally, he picked up the wounded paw and examined it carefully.
“Where did you find him?”
Sara jumped. She had been so mesmerised with watching him that she had almost forgotten why she was here. “Uh… down on the beach. By the water. It looked like he had come a long way… there was a blood trail on the sand.” She approached the table hesitantly, adding, “I think he’s somebody’s pet, though. He looked like he might have been wearing a collar.”
“Yes,” Dr Murray agreed. “He’s in too good a condition to be a stray. But he doesn’t belong to one of the locals. I know all the dogs in town. Maybe he’s here with a visiting family.” He frowned as he looked closer at the paw. “This is deep, but it’s not as serious as it looks. It should heal up nicely.”
Something in his tone made Sara flush. Something about this man just put her on edge in general. “Are you suggesting that I was over-reacting?” she demanded.
He straightened. Sara found herself craning her neck to look up at him. She was no petite flower herself, but this man towered over her. She realised that the blue scrubs he was wearing featured a deep V neckline, which showed a tantalising glimpse of bronzed, muscular chest. Sara flushed again and tore her eyes away.
“I wasn’t implying anything. I was simply stating a fact.” His tone was impatient.
Sara felt her cheeks redden even more. Biting her lip, she stepped back from the table and watched silently as he cleaned the wound and injected a local anaesthetic, then put a few stitches in. Finally he bandaged the paw securely and gave the Beagle a shot of antibiotics to prevent any infections.
He stepped back and looked up at her again. Sara felt a shiver of awareness run through her as those deep blue eyes flicked over her. She was suddenly very conscious of the way she must look—her legs covered with sand, her clothes wet and clinging to her body, her hair in a tangled mess around her face. She wished she had chosen something less revealing to wear that morning than her old cut-offs. They probably did nothing to flatter her full hips and thighs.
What are you thinking? Sara chided herself. As if you care whether he finds you attractive. You’re not interested in him!
“We can keep him overnight while we try to trace his owners. I’m hoping he might have a microchip.” His blue eyes were unreadable as he continued to look at her.
“Uh… yes.” Sara licked her lips. “That’s a good idea.”
“Would you like to be contacted about him? You don’t have to remain involved. We can take care of him from now on. But since you found him…”
“Yes, thank you. I’d like that.” Sara ventured a shy smile.
He didn’t return it, but she thought the deep blue eyes softened slightly. Before he could say anything else, however, the door burst open and a vet assistant stood there, her face taut with worry.
“Sorry, Craig, but I think you need to come and see the puppy…”
He nodded quickly and turned back to Sara. “I’m sorry—”
“No, no… that’s fine…” Sara was already backing out the door. “I… I’ll call later to see how the Beagle is doing.”
She made her way back to the waiting room, which seemed to have swelled with even more pets and their owners. Sara hovered by the receptionist’s counter until the queue of people had dispersed, then went up and asked about payment for the Beagle’s treatment.
The girl behind the reception raised her eyebrows. “The owner will probably take care of that.”
“I’m happy to pay a deposit first,” insisted Sara. “Just in case it takes a while to find him or something.” She patted her pockets. She realised that she had just shoved her driver’s licence and one of her credit cards into her shorts pockets when she left the house. How stupid—what had she been thinking? “I haven’t got any cash on me though.”
“No worries. We take EFTPOS.”
“Sorry… what?” Sara looked down and saw the familiar credit card terminal. “Oh, direct debit. Yeah, I’ve got my card.” She swiped it through, keyed in her PIN number, and paid the amount.
Waving a goodbye to the girl behind the reception counter, Sara let herself out of the bungalow and back onto the street. It was nearly noon now and the sun was beating down relentlessly. Sara walked slowly back to Ellie’s place, her head spinning with thoughts and emotions.
Craig, she thought. His name is Craig. Dr Craig Murray. It suited him, she decided with a smile, remembering the way he had looked after the Beagle. Strong and yet gentle, decisive but patient. Then she stopped her thoughts, horrified. What was she doing? She was behaving like some star-struck tee
nager! Annoyed with herself, Sara quickened her pace and almost jogged the rest of the way back to Ellie’s house.
“Here… have a coffee.”
Craig looked up gratefully as Megan, the receptionist, handed him a mug. This was the first time he had stopped all morning. The backlog in the waiting room had finally been cleared and there seemed to be a lull in the steady stream of patients coming through the front door. They might get an hour of relative peace now before the mayhem started again with the afternoon clinic.
Craig rubbed his neck, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. He had just finished a difficult laparotomy to relieve a bowel obstruction in a young Staffie and completed the post-operative care orders. Now he hoped to grab some lunch before tackling more admin.
Friday mornings were often hectic but today had been especially bad, with a number of sudden emergencies straining the already heavily booked clinic. At the thought of the emergencies, Craig remembered the woman who had brought in the lost Beagle and felt his pulse quicken. She had been beautiful, in that simple, fresh-faced kind of way. Like a glorious summer’s day. Soft blue eyes, a smattering of freckles across a pert nose, and full, pouting lips that had been seriously distracting. He had felt his body temperature rise several degrees when she had bitten her lips, catching the bottom swell with her tiny white teeth. As for the rest of her… Craig shook his head. Crikey, she should have been arrested, walking around in clothes like that! That wet T-shirt had clung to every curve on her body and those shorts didn’t just tease—they tormented the imagination.
He had been so taken aback by his sudden attraction to her that he had been much curter than he had intended. He winced now as he remembered the expression in her soft blue eyes. She had looked like he had slapped her. She had been a bit hysterical, yes, but he knew it was only out of genuine worry for the Beagle. Besides, he had seen often enough how emotional people could get when their beloved animals were hurt and in pain. I shouldn’t have been so sharp with her, he thought regretfully.
Her name was Sara. He had made an effort to look up the form she had filled in—telling himself that he was just checking in case he needed to contact her again to ask more questions about the Beagle. But who was he kidding? He had wanted, needed to know her name. In fact, he wanted to know more than her name. He wanted to know everything about her.
Who was she? he wondered. She had sounded American—there had been a definite twang in her soft voice. She had given Ellie Monroe’s name and address in her contact details. Craig had met Ellie a few times and liked her. Ellie was American too—was Sara a visiting friend? He was sure he hadn’t seen her around before. Summer Beach was a small place and there was no way he would have forgotten Sara if they had met.
He sighed and stood up, stretching. It was time he stopped daydreaming and got on with work. Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself walking out to reception and saying to Megan:
“If the woman who brought the lost Beagle this morning calls to check on him, put her through to me. I’ve… uh… got a few things I want to ask her.”
CHAPTER 5
For the rest of the day, Sara didn’t let herself think about Dr Craig Murray again. Whenever her thoughts began to stray towards him and their encounter that morning, she would give herself a mental slap. When Ellie came home late that night, Sara told her cousin about finding the Beagle, but kept her description of the vet encounter light and impersonal.
Ellie was tired from her long day so they went to bed early. Sara had no trouble falling asleep, but she found herself wide awake as dawn crept in through the curtains. Maybe I haven’t managed to escape the jet lag as well as I’d thought, Sara reflected wryly. She tossed and turned for an hour before giving up. She sat up and peered at the clock on her bedside table. 6:30 a.m.
The picture of the beach rose in her mind. Suddenly, she longed to feel the sand between her toes again, the sea breeze in her face. Dressing quickly, Sara crept out of her bedroom, left a note in the kitchen for Ellie and then let herself quietly out of the house.
The air still had that early-morning freshness to it and the chirping of birds was the only sound breaking the silence. After the smog and the constant blare of L.A. city traffic, the peace and quiet was wonderful. It was Saturday morning and Sara didn’t see another soul as she made her way to the road leading down to the beach. She had no trouble finding it this time. She paused at the top of the rickety wooden stairs and closed her eyes for a moment, filling her lungs with the salty sea air. I could get used to this, she thought with a smile.
This time, she didn’t run over the sand, but made her way slowly across the beach to the water’s edge. Her legs were still aching from their enforced workout yesterday and she grimaced as she struggled to stop sinking into the soft sand. She could feel her calve and thigh muscles straining and contracting again with each step. Well, if she kept coming for a walk across the beach every day, soon she would have the most toned thighs in Hollywood!
Sara’s smile faded as she suddenly remembered the last time her thighs were the talk of Hollywood. The memory of the humiliation washed over her again, leaving her angry and shaking. She had been a fool. She had really believed Jeff Kingston when he had told her that he loved her for being “down-to-earth and ordinary”, that he adored her “all-woman” figure. She had been dazzled when the handsome actor had shown interest in a nobody like her.
Of course, she had recognised him instantly the day he had bumped into her—literally—in the parking lot outside Whole Foods. Which woman in L.A.—or in the United States, for that matter—didn’t recognise that crooked half-smile which had set fifty million female hearts aflutter? As the star of the hit TV series about a rogue FBI agent, with his square-jawed good looks and twinkling blue eyes, Jeff was the stuff of every woman’s dreams. And when he had instantly dropped to his knees to help pick up her spilled groceries—and the whole thing was conveniently caught by waiting paparazzi—Sara had instantly become the envy of every woman in America.
Theirs was the “fairy tale romance” that captured everyone’s imagination. The handsome celebrity TV star who had fallen in love with the sweet “girl-next-door” and swept her off her feet. Soon Sara found that her every move was being followed, her every outfit photographed. At first it had been flattering—she had never had so much attention before, so much discussion devoted to what she wore, what she ate, what she did. Sara Monroe adds Tabasco sauce to her burgers! Sara Monroe wears Diesel jeans! Sara Monroe likes to check out the Ventura Flea Market for bargains!
But then she found that her every flaw was being dissected in the gossip magazines too. That time when she came out of her house, barefaced and bleary-eyed, one morning? Her face had ended up on a double-page spread the next day, blown up in all its puffy glory. The day she had suffered a rare breakout? That one pimple had practically become front-page news in the tabloids.
And then there was the endless speculation about her weight. Sara had never been as comfortable about her curves as Ellie, but she had learnt to like her body, resigned to the fact that she was never going to be one of those glamorous giraffes that seemed to populate Hollywood. But now every lump and bump on her figure was put under the microscope. She began to get sick of seeing pictures of herself. How did they always manage to get photos of her butt when she was bending over? Where did they manage to find that hideous old college photo of herself looking like a baby walrus? And why did they always have to think that every tummy swell was a “baby bump”? Have you never heard of bloating, people?
Still, the one comfort was the way Jeff had seemed to champion her fuller figure. When he gallantly announced on breakfast TV that he loved her “just as she is”, women everywhere swooned and fell over. Here at last was a man who did not mind a “real woman with real curves”. If Jeff’s stock had been high before, it went soaring after his relationship with Sara went public. Within weeks there was talk of multiple movie contracts and sponsorship deals. Everybody wanted Jeff Kingston as t
heir leading man.
And Sara was happy for him… until she realised that she wasn’t Jeff’s real leading lady. She had lived in a naïve bubble for five months before she walked in on them one day, when she arrived at Jeff’s place early and let herself in with the spare key. Sara could only stand and stare in horror as the tall, willowy blonde rose languidly from the bed and came towards her with a sneer on her beautiful face.
“Did you really think he’d want a fat lump like you?” she had laughed. “It was all for the PR, sweetie. It made him look good, gave him the boost he needed to get to the next level. But you didn’t seriously think he would find you attractive, did you?”
Sara had turned stricken eyes on Jeff, waiting for him to deny it, but she had seen the truth in those famous twinkling blue eyes even before he had given her that sheepish shrug. She had turned and run out of his house, the blonde woman’s laugh still ringing in her ears.
And then Sara had discovered just how fickle the media could be. As soon as their break up was announced, the speculation about her weight began again… this time about whether it was the reason Jeff had ditched her for the obviously thinner model he was now parading around town. Gone were the articles praising her as a role model for “real women”. Instead, she was now an object of pity, an example of someone who had “let herself go” and couldn’t keep her man. Paparazzi camped outside her door, this time to catch as many unflattering photos of her fuller figure as they could.
The last straw had been when Sara received a phone call from a reality TV production company asking if she would star in a show following her attempts at weight loss in order to win Jeff Kingston back. She had swallowed her grief and humiliation, and managed to maintain her dignity as she coolly told them that she wasn’t interested. Following on from that, Ellie’s invitation to come to Australia had seemed like a godsend. Sara had booked her flight the next day.