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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Copyright
Born in New Zealand, Sharon Archer now lives in county Victoria, Australia, with her husband Glenn, one lame horse and five pensionable hens. Always an avid reader, she discovered Mills & Boon as a teenager through Lucy Walker’s fabulous Outback Australia stories. Now she lives in a gorgeous bush setting, and loves the native fauna that visits regularly…Well, maybe not the possum which coughs outside the bedroom window in the middle of the night.
The move to acreage brought a keen interest in bushfire management (she runs the fireguard group in her area), as well as free time to dabble in woodwork, genealogy (her advice is…don’t get her started!), horse-riding and motorcycling—as a pillion or in charge of the handlebars.
Free time turned into words on paper! And the dream to be a writer gathered momentum. With her background in a medical laboratory, what better line to write for than Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance?
CHAPTER ONE
LUKE DANIELS ran an idle glance over the sleek silver motorcycle stopped in the lane beside him at the traffic light. Through his closed windows he could hear the throb of the powerful engine. An unexpected spark of interest fought with deep unease.
It’d been years since seeing a bike had had any sort of effect on him. How odd that it should be now, when he was back in Port Cavill to stay—at least for the year-long term of his contract.
But perhaps that was why.
Port Cavill. The scene of his first medical failure.
‘Are we nearly there?’ His daughter’s sulky voice interrupted his dark thoughts.
‘Not far, Allie.’ He rolled his neck, feeling the tiredness and tension in his muscles.
‘Alexis,’ she corrected with all the disdain a ten-year-old could muster.
Luke stifled a sigh. He wasn’t popular and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
Except get on a plane back to England.
Even the weather conspired to make things unpleasant. The earlier sunny heat had given way to oppressive humidity, which the car’s air-conditioning was struggling to cope with. Glowering banks of cloud still pressed down with the threat of more rain to come.
He studied Allie’s sullen profile and debated whether to point out again that they’d only be here for a year. Long enough for him to help his father get back on his feet. Long enough to seem like a lifetime in a child’s eyes. Times like this he longed for Sue-Ellen’s wise counsel. But his wife, Allie’s mother, had been buried two years ago. So loving, so giving. And too damned young to die.
‘That person on the bike’s waving at you, Dad. Who is it?’
He looked in the direction of Allie’s pointing finger.
‘I don’t know.’
The pillion passenger began pulling at the rider’s shoulder until the person must have retaliated with an admonition to keep still. Catching Allie’s eye, Luke smiled. ‘Kind of hard to tell with that helmet on, isn’t it?’
His daughter shrugged, letting him know a moment of shared humour couldn’t woo her.
The lights changed and the bike pulled away sedately enough to merge into his lane ahead. Following slowly, he allowed the distance to stretch because of the wet road. The pillion passenger turned to check behind. Luke shook his head in irritation. The action would shift the weight, unbalance the bike. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor rider.
Movement from a side road caught his peripheral vision. A car fishtailed into the intersection.
Had the motorcyclist seen it?
Heart pounding, hands clenched on the steering-wheel, he waited for the inevitable disaster. Suddenly the rider reacted, the brake light flicked on.
‘Too late,’ Luke muttered. ‘Counter-steer.’
A split second later, the rider obeyed his command. Relief quickly swooped into despair as the wheels skidded precariously on the slick surface.
In the time it took for rider to control the bike, graphic memories of another, less fortunate motorcycle leapt out of the past to assault him. A battered racer, twisted metal. The smell of hot tar and spilled petrol.
The smell of blood.
His cousin’s moans of pain.
A line of sweat chilled Luke’s upper lip as he remembered the helplessness. The hopelessness when he’d realised the extent of Kevin’s injuries. Nausea rolled through his stomach.
Super-sensitised now to the progress of the bike and the actions of the cars around it, Luke could feel irrational, burning anger growing. He’d successfully suppressed the anguish for the thirteen years since the accident. Now in the blink of an instant it was all there, raw and powerful.
He wished the rider would turn off so he could stop worrying about them but they were travelling inexorably in the same direction. Slowing more, he let the distance widen, until several other cars filled the gap.
By the time he got to his turn-off, they’d disappeared.
Relief was short-lived. He turned into his parents’ driveway to see the bike parked on the gravel.
Still helmeted and astride the machine, the rider seemed to be delivering a well-deserved lecture to the dismounted pillion passenger.
‘That’s Aunty Megan,’ said Allie.
Hell! Luke clenched his jaw as a cold chill swept his body. What was his baby sister doing hooning around Port Cavill on the back of a bloody motorcycle?
‘Stay here,’ he ordered his daughter as he flicked his seat-belt catch off.
He stalked towards the pair at the bike, relishing the thought of tearing strips off them after the fright they’d given him.
‘Luke!’ Megan launched herself at him, enveloping him in an enthusiastic hug. He clamped her close, intensely thankful for her vitality and safety. Determined to make sure she stayed that way. ‘We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.’
‘We came straight through from the airport,’ he said after a moment. Holding her away from him, he frowned. ‘Your bad luck I was here to see that stunt you and your friend here pulled back in town. You think I want to spend my first day home scraping you two off the road?’
‘Oh, don’t you start, too.’ Megan threw her hands up. ‘Terri was just going off at me about it.’
‘Yeah?’ Luke aimed a black look at the rider. ‘Maybe he’ll think twice before he takes you on the bike again.’
‘But Terri’s—’
‘In fact, let’s make that official.’ God, he’d been back in town for less than half an hour and he was already standing toe to toe with his sister. Part of his anger was tiredness. But most of it was fear. If he had the power to prevent it, he wasn’t going to lose another member of his family.
And this was definitely within his power. ‘You’re grounded.’
‘Honestly, Luke!’ Megan planted her hands on her hips.
‘Does Mum know what you’re up to?’
‘I’m nearly eighteen.’ Her chin jutted defiance as she glared at him.
‘Is that a no?’
‘No, it’s not a no. She doesn’t mind if I’m with Terri.’
‘She will after I’ve spoken to her,’ he said grimly.
‘But Terri’s a really careful rider.’
‘Too bad. I don’t want to see you on the back of this bike, any bike, again.’ He directed a narrow-eyed look at the rider.
Brown eyes, so dark they were nearly black, watched him. The hint of wry amusement in them had him clenching his jaw against a scathing comment.
The motorcyclist took off the padded gloves and began fiddling with the helmet strap.
Luke was reluctantly impressed that the boy was prepared to stay in the face of the conflict. ‘Look, Terry, this is a family argument. You don’t want to get involved, mate. All you need to know is Megan’s off the social circuit until further notice. There’s no point hanging around.’
‘Gee. That’s going to be kind of tough, Luke,’ said Megan smugly. ‘Since you guys are going to be working together.’
‘What?’ He turned on his sister. ‘You mean Mum’s letting you go out with one of the hospital staff?’
‘One of the doctors.’ The sly look she slanted him should have been a warning. ‘Terri’s taught me heaps.’
Luke felt his anger crank up several notches.
‘That’s a recommendation I can do without,’ said a husky feminine voice beside him.
The tirade he’d been about to unleash faltered on his tongue.
The rider slipped off the helmet and balanced it on the handlebars. Long black hair slithered over the protective leather jacket as the woman dismounted and turned to face him.
‘Hello, Luke. Long time, no see.’
‘Terri?’ He gaped, his stunned brain struggling to put the name together with the evidence before his eyes. ‘Theresa O’Connor.’
‘Close enough. How are you?’ She held out a hand and he stared at it stupidly for a long moment.
‘Bloody hell. Theresa O’Connor.’ He used her hand to tug her into a hug. It was quick, lasting only a second. Meant to be social, asexual. Nothing to precipitate the volcanic heat that swept through him.
He swallowed and set her away at arm’s length.
Her continued stillness, her composure, unsettled him out of all proportion. Especially the small smile curving her lips.
Suddenly, Luke remembered the last time he’d seen her. On the moonlit beach at the bottom of the hospital grounds. Could it really have been twelve years ago? The memory felt too intense. She hadn’t been so calm then. Though neither had he. He’d just kissed her.
He focussed on her mouth. Those lovely full lips had been soft and hesitant then eager, even demanding, beneath his.
Until he’d pushed her away.
He blinked and dragged his gaze back to hers. She stepped away, unruffled by their contact except for a tell-tale wariness in her eyes. ‘It’s Terri Mitchell these days.’
‘Yes, of course.’ He had so many questions but he felt oddly tongue-tied. His body’s unexpected response to her, that hot fizz of recognition, left him unbalanced.
His memory tripped in with details supplied over the years by his mother and Theresa’s brother, Ryan. Theresa was widowed, her husband killed when they’d been working with an aid organisation in Africa. An explosion. She’d been injured, too.
He cleared his throat before speaking into the lengthening silence. ‘Theresa, I was sorry to—’
‘No harm done.’ She cut him off quickly, a tiny flare of dismay in her dark chocolate eyes. The smile on her lips looked stiff, unnatural and he realised her misunderstanding had been deliberate. Theresa didn’t want to hear his words of condolence.
She glanced behind him, her smile warming. ‘You must be Alexis. Your grandmother’s told me all about you.’
‘Alexis, this is an old friend of the family.’ Luke drew his daughter forward, leaving his arm across her shoulders as he made the introductions. He was pleasantly surprised when she leaned into his side instead of shrugging him off.
She glowed under Theresa’s attention. Gone was the surly, uncooperative child of mere minutes ago.
Theresa’s serene surface was so firmly in place, the moment of panic seemed as though it was a figment of his imagination. Still, there was something…a hint of sadness shadowing her eyes and smile. With her attention on Allie, he could see it much more clearly.
After a few minutes, Theresa said, ‘I’ll leave you all to catch up properly.’
‘Mum said for you to come to tea tonight, Terri,’ Megan said.
‘Oh. Thank your mum for me, Megan, but I have some paperwork to do before tomorrow. See you later, Alexis.’ Her friendly smile faded as she raised her eyes to his. ‘Luke.’
He wondered if her refusal of the dinner invitation was because of his arrival or if the paperwork excuse was genuine.
She mounted the bike, slid the helmet over her luxurious hair. Her long slender fingers worked quickly to buckle the strap beneath her chin before she reached out to turn the key in the ignition. The machine throbbed to life.
Much to Luke’s surprise, she rode down the extended driveway beside his parents’ house.
‘So, I guess that means I can keep riding with Terri,’ Megan said.
He sent her a noncommittal look. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Luke!’
He grinned at her wailed protest and slid his question in casually. ‘Is Theresa staying in the beach cottage?’
‘Terri. She prefers Terri.’
‘Terri, then.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Uh-huh. She’s been renting it since she came back.’
He wondered why his mother hadn’t told him when she’d been giving him updates on the latest Port Cavill gossip.
‘And that was, what, six months ago?’
‘About.’ Megan shrugged.
‘It’s a hovel.’
‘That’s when you used to live there, Luke. Terri’s done it up.’
‘Really.’ Perhaps he might find an opportunity to wander down for a visit, see how his old bachelor pad had scrubbed up. Learn more about the intriguing tenant…
Or perhaps not.
He was here for a year and would have his hands full with the hospital, his father and Allie. Meeting Terri again like this had tipped him out of kilter, that was all. He was tired, maybe even a little jet-lagged. Not thinking straight.
The last thing he needed was to complicate his life. Especially with someone who must thrive on excitement if the bike and her previous job were anything to judge by.
Seeing her had plunged him into an odd time warp where he relived their kiss on the beach. Could it really have been twelve years ago? He hadn’t treated her particularly well that night, rejecting her soft sympathy, allowing his bitterness and guilt over his cousin’s death to colour the things he’d said.
Still, she was obviously made of stern stuff. She’d gone on to do her medical training.
He’d had no interest in women during the two and a half years since Sue-Ellen’s death. How damned inconvenient that the sexual spark missing in his life since then should choose to wake up now.
In Port Cavill. Of all places.
With a colleague. Someone he needed to work with for the next year. The time and place and person couldn’t be worse.
Terri parked the bike beside the cottage, thankful to have made the short journey without disgracing herself by stalling or missing a gear. Or dropping the bike. She huffed out a long breath before putting down the stand and dismounting on shaky legs.
Luke was back.
Helmet tucked under one arm, she collected her handbag from the top box. She’d known he was coming home, of course. Most of the Daniels family had been in a happy buzz of anticipation for the last couple of weeks.
Except for Will Daniels. He’d been upset that, despite his recommendation, the board had appointed Luke to the position of hospital director. A position she’d been acting in since Will’s myocardial infarct. Worse was that the notification had only come yesterday.
Terri had stifled her disappointment so she could reassure her convalescing boss that it didn’t matter.
But it did matter. She’d been relishing the responsibility. It was good for her, challenging, restoring her sense of self. Giving her a much-needed focus for her shattered life.
She sighed. Perhaps even more distressing was her ridiculous fluttery reaction to Luke. How long had it been since she’d felt that disturbing feminine awareness of a man? Such lightness had had no place in her life for so many years. To have it now felt wrong, frivolous.
She crossed to the door and let herself into the cottage. Her hand lingered on her helmet for a moment after she’d placed it on the hall-stand. When Luke had confronted her and Megan, the temptation to stay inside the fibreglass dome and hide behind the smoky Perspex visor had been overwhelming. Behaviour much more in keeping with the starry-eyed teenager she’d been last time they’d met.
Why couldn’t she have been caught on the ward, performing some marvellously complex medical procedure? Saving lives, saving the world, she mocked herself silently. That would have been too perfect.
She slipped off her jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. Naturally, Luke had to arrive a day early, catch her kitted out in motorcycle leathers and then mistake her for Megan’s boyfriend.
Still, she thought she’d handled the meeting with reasonable aplomb. Thanks to the helmet, she’d had a chance to gather her wits a little before revealing herself. If anything, it had been Luke who’d been nonplussed. Embarrassed by his mistake probably.
He’d hugged her. Spontaneously. She wrapped her arms around her body, remembering the feel of his firm hold, his torso pressed to hers for those long seconds. Not that it meant anything. The Daniels family was naturally, delightfully, demonstrative.
Unlike the O’Connors.
Unlike the Mitchells. Her husband’s family had saved their affections for their causes. And those they’d pursued with dedication and passion. No sacrifice too great. She grimaced, chiding herself for her disloyalty. Hating the bitterness of her thoughts.
In the kitchen, she filled the kettle. While she waited for the water to boil, she scanned the scrubby trees that bordered the back yard. The sandy path to the beach was well hidden. Astounding that she’d had the temerity to follow Luke down the track all those years ago. What a crush she’d had on him, poor sad child that she’d been.
She shook her head then spooned a scant teaspoon of coffee into a mug.
That was the past. This was now and she wasn’t an angstridden teenager any more.
She’d been married…and widowed. The explosion that killed her husband had ripped her life apart. She’d come to Port Cavill to give herself a chance to recover, to regroup. She’d come here for peace. Nothing more.
As she contemplated the future, she pursed her lips.
Stepping into the role of director had given her a new sense of purpose. She’d been doing a damned good job even if the paperwork part of the job wasn’t her forte.
Now she had to step aside.
Gracefully.
Luke’s return was difficult on so many levels. Peace would be in short supply while he was around.
She sighed. At least, their first meeting was over now. Next time she encountered him, she’d be working for him.
CHAPTER TWO
DRESSED only in jeans, Luke stood in the darkened room at the back of the house and stared moodily across the moonlit lawn. He could make out the hump of the small cottage sheltered by trees at the edge of the lawn.
Theresa’s place. No, not Theresa—Terri.
Was she tucked up, asleep? He glanced at his watch. Half past one in the morning. He’d be willing to bet she wasn’t lying awake thinking about him, the way he was about her.
He leaned his forearm on the wooden window-frame and contemplated his reaction to her that afternoon. Surely, it had to be a product of his recent upheavals—the move, travelling, worry over his father and Alexis.
He’d had eight happy years of marriage to Sue-Ellen. He’d loved his wife, damn it. During all the time they’d been together and since she’d died, he hadn’t looked at another woman.
Yet one tiny and very public hug with Terri had evoked such a powerful memory that he’d been swept back twelve years to the last time he’d held her in his arms. To a five-minute interlude on the beach.
Ridiculous. Potentially disastrous.
Luke rubbed his jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble. Perhaps he was over-thinking this. Perhaps it merely demonstrated that it was time he did start thinking about a relationship. Or at least start preparing Allie for the possibility that he might one day date. Bring someone, a woman, into the family. He tried to picture that day but long dark silky hair and hot chocolate eyes stayed stubbornly in his mind.
He gave up, let his thoughts dwell on the brief meeting that afternoon. The way Terri had deflected his condolences made him wonder about her. Was her grief still raw? Did she suffer any long-term post-traumatic stress symptoms? A gnawing ache settled in his chest for the pain she’d been through. He could only begin to imagine the difficulty of losing someone the way she had. So brutal and sudden.
He and Allie had had time with Sue-Ellen. Poignant time for words of love, reassurances, promises. Heartbreaking but enriching moments to cling to in the days, weeks, years that followed her death.
Terri hadn’t had that. She’d had no chance to say goodbye before her husband had been snatched away.
He needed to be mindful of that, sensitive to her needs, and be ready to offer counselling, in a professional capacity, if she needed it. As hospital director, the welfare of his staff was paramount. He was feeling the natural concern of a doctor for a colleague. Plus Terri wasn’t just a colleague, but the sister of a friend. The least he could do was offer support to Ryan O’Connor’s sister. Yes, that was more like it. He just needed to apply a bit of sound reasoning.
Through the loosely screening shrubbery, he saw the lights of the cottage come on. Almost as though the intensity of his musings had woken Terri.
He snorted out a small breath. How hopelessly fanciful. So much for the power of common sense.
A few minutes later, she walked across to the hospital in the moonlight. The ends of a stethoscope looped around her neck dangled darkly on her pale T-shirt. She seemed to look up at his window. A queer shaft of excitement made him draw a quick breath before he could block it.
One tiny glance from her and his heart was flopping around in his chest like a freshly caught flounder. He shook his head in disgust.
Terri was obviously the doctor on call tonight.
As his system settled, he watched her disappear through the back door of the hospital and then reappear in the glass-walled corridor. By angling his head, he could follow her progress until she turned the corner leading to Accident and Emergency.
He should go back to bed and yet something held him at the window. A moment later, slow revolutions of light—blue, red, blue, red—began flickering off walls and gutters, signalling the arrival of an emergency vehicle on the other side of the building.
He straightened and, moving quietly, walked back through to the main house to find a T-shirt.
Since sleep was so elusive tonight, he might as well spend the time working with his new colleague. Pro-pinquity in a hospital setting would be the best cure for this inconvenient fascination. Baggy, unflattering clothing, surgical caps, masks, booties. That should take the edge off her appeal quick smart. For his sanity, he needed to start the therapy now. Familiarity bred contempt—he had to believe it.
Anticipation quickened his pace as he retraced her footsteps along the silent hospital corridor.
No sign of any staff in the casualty waiting room. The ambulance was gone. He skirted the main desk and entered the treatment area.
A pale-faced woman sat in an open cubicle clutching a bowl, her eyes closed and head tilted back to rest against the wall.