- -
- 100%
- +
She lifted her chin and gave him a cool look. ‘I’m not buried, Dr Macaulay, and I choose to live and work here because the people are lovely and the countryside and the beaches are wonderful. Although this might surprise you, I consider this village to be somewhere, rather than nowhere. But I can understand how someone of your...’ she paused for emphasis ‘...sophisticated tastes might consider this to be nowhere. Which leads us to the question of what you could possibly be doing in this area.’
Instead of answering immediately, he strolled round her consulting room, pausing to examine pictures, posters and photographs.
Personal photographs!
She felt a flash of anger and forced herself to calm down and analyse her feelings.
What on earth was the matter with her? How could someone she hadn’t seen for at least six years provoke such hostility in her? She was confused and puzzled by her own reaction. She didn’t normally respond that way to people. Normally she was placid and gentle, a real peacemaker. But Sebastian Macaulay had always brought out aspects of her character that she had trouble identifying. Just being in the same room as him made her insides boil and churn.
It was just because they were so different, she reasoned. Not just in terms of background—although that too, of course, because she knew for a fact that Seb Macaulay was wealthier than even Laura was probably imagining—but in terms of personality and attitude. How could she ever expect herself to have anything in common with a man who approached life as a game to be played and enjoyed, a man who shunned commitment and responsibility in favour of short-term pleasure?
No, she assured herself, her hostility towards him came from the simple fact that she disliked the man. She disliked the flippant way he approached life, the way people fell at his feet, his flashy lifestyle...
She bit her lip, forcing herself to face the truth. What she disliked most of all was the fact that he reminded her of—
Instantly she closed her eyes and pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to drag the past up now. Not twice in one day. First with Alice and now with Seb Macaulay. For years she’d managed to keep those hurtful, uncomfortable feelings totally buried. She was happy and she didn’t want anyone or anything disturbing that.
Anyway was the man ever going to tell her what he was doing here? ‘I’m very busy, Dr Macaulay.’
‘So I hear.’ There was a pause as he leaned closer to study a favourite of hers, a painting of the moor on a wild, winter day, and Joanna curled her fingers into her palms.
‘Look.’ She cleared her throat and kept her tone businesslike. ‘Why don’t you just tell me what I can do for you?’
He turned, subjecting her to the full force of his gaze. She stiffened, forcing herself not to react. She’d never met a man with eyes as blue as his. Just one flash of those killer eyes and women had fallen over themselves in their undignified haste to climb into his bed. Except her, of course.
‘What you can do for me?’ The corners of his firm mouth tilted slightly as if she’d just said something funny. ‘It’s more a question of what I can do for you.’
‘What you—’ She broke off, temporarily rendered speechless by his careless arrogance. ‘Offhand I can’t think of a single thing that you could possibly do for me except leave me in peace and allow me to get on with the mountain of work I have to do.’
His smile widened. ‘That’s the Joanna I remember,’ he murmured softly. ‘Work, work and then more work. Nice to know you haven’t changed.’
His eyes left her face and wandered lazily over her body, starting with the flat, comfortable shoes, moving up past the sensible skirt, the crisply laundered blouse with the high neckline and finally resting on the severe hairstyle which she’d favoured since her second year at medical school.
She lifted her chin, his casual scrutiny making her hot and uncomfortable. She didn’t need to see his slightly ironic blue gaze to know that he found her lacking as a woman. She knew that she wasn’t his type. And she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be anybody’s type.
‘I’m very busy, Dr Macaulay.’
‘So you keep saying. Which brings us back to the reason I’m here.’ His tone was still amused as he walked over to the window by her desk and moved the blinds aside with one long finger. ‘Nice views.’
‘I’m not interested in what you think of the views. What has me being busy got to do with you being here?’ Her tone was sharp and she frowned as he let the blinds drop and turned to face her.
‘Rumour has it that you’re in the middle of a crisis and you need a locum.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘I know that you’ll be delighted to hear that I’m that locum.’
She stared at him in stunned silence.
When she finally found her voice it cracked slightly, as if it had been kept in a dusty room for a month. ‘You? You can’t be my locum. There’s been a misunderstanding,’ she croaked, licking dry lips and rummaging round in her numbed brain for some sort of reasonable explanation. ‘Dr George Mills, the senior partner, has made arrangements—’
‘He has indeed.’ Seb inclined his head in agreement. ‘Me. He called me and I agreed to help out.’
‘You?’ Joanna shook her head slowly. ‘No. That’s not possible...’
He shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘Because...because...’ How could she put it without sounding horribly rude? ‘Lots of reasons. You’re not—I mean you don’t—This isn’t the sort of surgery for a man like you,’ she finished lamely, wishing that he didn’t always make her feel so tongue-tied.
‘A man like me?’ He threw back his head and laughed in genuine amusement. ‘And you are such an expert on men, of course. Your specialist subject, if I recall.’
Joanna flushed at his none-too-subtle reminder that she’d barely socialised as a student.
‘So go on.’ He was still laughing, his eyes bright with humour. ‘I’m intrigued to hear your opinion. What sort of man am I, Dr Weston? Do tell me. This should be worth hearing.’
Joanna gritted her teeth. ‘Certainly not the sort of man to settle down in the middle of nowhere. This is rural Devon, Dr Macaulay, not cosmopolitan London. There are no hot nightspots, no clubs or fancy restaurants, and the nearest we get to retail therapy is buying eggs from the local farm.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Damn.’ He clicked his fingers in mock disappointment. ‘If I’d known that, I never would have offered to help out.’
Joanna felt her temper rise at his flippancy. The temper she’d forgotten she even had until he’d walked into her consulting room. Five minutes. That was all it had taken. Five minutes with Sebastian Macaulay and already she wanted to commit grievous bodily harm.
‘I’m glad we’re agreed that this place would never suit you—’
‘Agreed? Oh, come on, Joanna! Unless my memory is faulty, you and I have never agreed on a single thing since the day we first met,’ he drawled, strolling back across her consulting room and staring at a poster on asthma management. ‘And we’re unlikely to start now. But whether we agree or not is irrelevant. I promised George I’d help out and that’s what I’m going to do. If it reassures you at all, I’m sure I can struggle by without clothes shopping for a few months. I stocked up last time I was in London.’
Joanna stared at him in barely disguised horror. ‘Are you serious?’
He gave a nod. ‘Absolutely. My favourite designer had just launched his new collection.’
She gritted her teeth, aware that he was laughing at her. ‘I wasn’t referring to your wardrobe, Dr Macaulay, as you well know. I was talking about the ridiculous suggestion that you should work here.’
‘Why ridiculous?’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’m as well qualified as you, and you know it.’
She was unable to argue with that fact. The truth was that, despite his casual attitude, Seb Macaulay was clever. Very clever. Not that he used his brain, of course. He’d socialised his way through medical school and had managed to pass his exams having barely attended a single lecture. In fact, he’d seemed bored with the whole thing. Until they’d started the clinical section of their course. Once he’d been allowed to see real patients, Seb had never missed a day.
And since he’d qualified she hadn’t heard much about him. Just the odd rumour that he was doing glamorous jobs. Which was nothing less than she would have expected. He wasn’t the sort of man to bury himself in a deprived, inner-city practice.
Suddenly she was curious about just what he had been doing last. ‘So is that what you’re doing at the moment? Locum work?’
‘Not really.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘Actually, I’ve just finished a stint on a cruise ship.’
Her mouth tightened. A cruise ship. Typical! ‘I see.’
‘I seriously doubt that you do.’ For a brief second the humour left those blue eyes and she caught a glimpse of a side of him she’d never seen before. A serious side. But then it was gone and he gave a careless shrug. ‘But it doesn’t matter. George didn’t stipulate that we had to understand each other—just that we had to work together.’
‘We can’t possibly work together, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly. ‘Our approach to life is too different.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, well, fortunately we’re not talking about life here, we’re just talking about the job.’
‘You see?’ She sat up straighter and glared at him. ‘That is exactly what I mean. To you it’s just a job—’
‘And to you it’s your whole life,’ Seb drawled, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. ‘Let’s not waste time arguing about which one of us is right. I seem to remember telling you as a student that it was possible to work and have fun at the same time.’
She was feeling totally out of her depth. She just couldn’t cope with someone like Seb Macaulay. He was too arrogant, too confident—too male. And he made her feel... feel...strange...
‘Surely George must have known we’d have nothing in common,’ she murmured, rubbing her fingers over her aching forehead. ‘Why did he choose you? He said that he was asking a family friend—’
‘I am a family friend.’ He straightened and walked over to her desk, dropping his muscular length into the chair by her desk. ‘I was at school with Sam.’
‘Sam?’ Her mouth fell open in disbelief. ‘Sam went to the same school as you?’
Surely George and Nancy wouldn’t have had the funds for that type of education for their son.
‘Sam was a bright boy, he had a scholarship.’ Seb ran a hand through his hair, his expression suddenly impatient. ‘Look, enough questions. I thought you were supposed to be busy. If you’ve been handling George’s patients as well as your own, there must be plenty for me to do.’
Offhand she couldn’t think of a single thing. The mere thought of working alongside this man was so unlikely it was ludicrous.
‘It won’t work, Dr Macaulay,’ she said finally, nervously touching a strand of pale blonde hair that had escaped from the knot on the back of her head. ‘I’m sorry to have wasted your time but there’s been a mistake. You’ll have to find a job elsewhere.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna!’ He was visibly controlling his irritation. ‘Look, I agree that this situation is hardly ideal for either of us. You think I’m a glamorous playboy with more money than sense, and I think you’re an emotionally repressed workaholic whose idea of excitement is a night in with a textbook. It doesn’t matter! No one says we have to like each other. We just have to work together and that should be easy enough.’
She stared at him, carefully hiding her dismay at his words. Was that really how people saw her? An emotionally repressed workaholic?
‘I can manage by myself,’ she said finally, and he lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
‘With the number of patients you and George have on your lists? Don’t be ridiculous. No doctor could manage that number single-handed. Especially in the holiday season. No.’ He shook his head and gave a resigned shrug. ‘You need help, and we’d better both just accept that I’m it.’
‘Help?’ Her voice rose and she almost winced as she heard herself. Normally she was a gentle, mild-mannered person and here she was acting like a fishwife. ‘You’re not my idea of help, Dr Macaulay—’
A muffled scream from Reception distracted her and Joanna broke off and tilted her head slightly. ‘What on earth was that?’
Before Seb could answer, the door was yanked open and a breathless Laura stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with panic.
‘Dr Weston, come quickly! Little Katy Ball has stopped breathing.’
Joanna stood up quickly. Too quickly. The room suddenly swam in front of her eyes and she swayed slightly. Immediately strong fingers clamped onto her shoulders and propelled her safely back into the chair.
‘Are you all right?’ Seb’s sharp question penetrated the black fog descending on her brain and she nodded slowly, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Well, you don’t look fine.’ His eyes were narrowed. ‘You’d better stay here while I see to the child.’
‘No!’ Joanna stood up again, but this time more slowly, her fingers clutching the desk for support. ‘She’s my patient. I’ll see her.’
‘Well, join me when you’re ready.’
The screams grew louder and with a last frowning glance in her direction Seb sprinted out into Reception, leaving her to follow at a slower pace.
‘Dr Weston, help—help!!’ Katy’s mother was clutching the child against her chest, her face wild with fear. ‘She can’t breathe properly—Oh, God, please, help her, don’t let her die. It was the bee, I know it was the bee. Oh, why didn’t I see it?’
For a moment Joanna stood rooted to the spot, still feeling slightly odd, her mind totally blank.
Fortunately Seb’s reactions were faster. ‘I’m Dr Macaulay, Dr Weston’s new partner. Give her to me.’ He cut through Mrs Ball’s hysterical rambling and swept the limp little figure into his arms. ‘Laura, call an ambulance—tell them it’s urgent. She needs adrenaline—fast!’
‘In my room...’ Finally Joanna sprang to life and she ran back to her consulting room, grabbing the necessary drugs.
‘Why’s her breathing so noisy?’ Katy’s mother had followed them and was hovering uncertainly in the doorway, her face chalk white.
‘It’s called stridor,’ Seb said briefly, his eyes on Joanna as she drew up the injection. ‘It’s because her breathing tubes are swollen. Where did the bee sting her?’
‘On the back of her neck,’ Mrs Ball sobbed, ‘it was such a sunny day I promised her we could have our tea in the park. The flowers are gorgeous at the moment. I didn’t think about the bees...’
Seb held the child while Joanna gave the injection. ‘We need to give her some oxygen and get a line in.’
Joanna nodded agreement and together they worked to stabilise the child. By the time the paramedics arrived, her condition had improved dramatically.
‘I’ll go with her in the ambulance,’ Seb said briefly, and Joanna hesitated.
‘I ought to go—’
‘No.’ Seb shook his head and helped himself to some equipment from her trolley. ‘You’re better off here in case someone calls you out. I don’t know the area well enough. We’ll talk later.’
And with that he strode after the paramedics, leaving her staring, open-mouthed, totally drained after the exaggerated emotions of the past few minutes.
She sank into her chair and stared blankly at the flickering computer screen.
How had this happened?
How had her neatly ordered life been turned upside down so quickly? One minute she’d been safe in her own little world, overworked but very happy with her daily routine. And then Seb Macaulay had strolled casually back into her life and triggered more emotion in five minutes than she’d imagined she was capable of feeling in a lifetime.
After just five minutes in his company she was ready to kill someone. And if he was intent on working as a locum, it was probably going to be him.
CHAPTER TWO
JOANNA was making herself some toast in the kitchen when she heard the heavy scrunch of ambulance tyres on the gravel. Wondering how on earth Seb had persuaded them to give him a lift back, she ran to the door, still worried about little Katy.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine.’ Without waiting for an invitation, he strolled past her into the spacious hallway, a vision of self-assured, arrogant masculinity. ‘They’re keeping her in overnight for observation and then they’re going to run some tests. She might need to carry adrenaline—that was a serious reaction.’
‘It certainly was.’ Joanna frowned as he hung his jacket on the coatstand in the hallway. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
She’d been desperately hoping that he’d have changed his mind about working as a locum but, judging from the way he was making himself at home, it seemed there was little hope of that.
‘We have things to discuss, Joanna.’
Deciding that there was no time like the present, she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Dr Macaulay, I’m very grateful that you helped with Katy but it doesn’t change the fact that you and I working together is a ridiculous proposition. I’m sure now that you’ve had time to think about it you’ll agree that it would never work.’
‘It will work,’ he said grimly, ‘because it has to. I promised George Mills that I’d stay and help you until he comes back, and that’s what I intend to do. Katy’s mother sent her thanks to you, by the way.’
Joanna felt a stab of conscience and bit her lip. ‘It’s you she should have been thanking, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly, knowing that it had been his quick thinking and actions that had bought them precious time. If he hadn’t thrust her bodily back into her seat she would have ended up unconscious on the carpet. ‘I apologise for earlier. I felt strange—I don’t know what was the matter with me.’
His gaze was uncomfortably direct. ‘You’re exhausted, Joanna, that’s what’s the matter. How much sleep did you get last night?’
‘Sleep?’ She rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to marshal her exhausted brain. ‘I don’t know. Not much. I was called out a lot.’
‘Called out?’ He frowned sharply. ‘But you’re on your own here. You can’t be covering days and nights. Surely you’re using one of the local co-operatives to cover the night calls?’
‘George still likes us to do our own calls,’ she muttered, her eyes sliding away from his as she braced herself for his reaction.
There was an ominous silence and when Seb finally spoke his voice rang with incredulity. ‘Are you telling me that, as well as running this entire practice single-handed, you’re still doing all your own night calls?’
‘Well, I’ve been trying to.’ For some reason the anger in his voice made her shiver. ‘Since the last locum left it doesn’t seem to be working—’
‘I’m not surprised!’ He gave her a look of total exasperation. ‘No wonder your reaction times are slow. You must be comatose with exhaustion.’
Joanna was silent for a moment. ‘I am tired,’ she admitted finally, meeting that sharp blue gaze and then wishing she hadn’t. There was something about Seb Macaulay that unsettled her. It always had. Even when they’d been students. He made her feel strange inside and she’d never been able to understand why.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘So why the hell are you being so stubborn? When are you going to acknowledge that you need help?’
‘I have already acknowledged it, Dr Macaulay,’ she said tartly, his tone of voice rousing her from her exhausted state, ‘but you’re not my idea of help. You’re not what I need.’
‘Not what you need?’ He shot her an incredulous look and started to laugh. ‘You, Joanna Weston, have absolutely no idea what you need.’
‘Please, spare me your expertise in female psychology,’ Joanna said shortly. ‘I do know exactly what I need. A solid, sensible doctor who’ll take his responsibilities seriously. You hardly fit that description.’
‘I hardly think I’d want to,’ he drawled lazily, an ironic smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘And if that’s the sort of doctor you want to work with, I’d say you’re in for a fairly boring summer.’
‘I’m not looking for entertainment,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m looking for a colleague. Someone to share the work.’
‘Ah, yes, work.’ Seb leaned broad shoulders against the wall and surveyed her from under lowered lids. ‘Your favourite companion. Tell me something, Jo, have you ever spent the night with anything more exciting than a textbook? Do you ever let your hair down—either literally or figuratively?’
‘Not everyone approaches life in the same frivolous manner that you do, Dr Macaulay.’ She gritted her teeth, hating the way he narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. It was as if he was trying to see straight into her soul. ‘Work is very important to me, not that I expect someone like you to understand that. And don’t call me Jo.’
‘Oh, loosen up, will you?’ He raked long fingers through his short dark hair, not even trying to hide his irritation with her. ‘Work doesn’t have to mean major self-sacrifice, you know.’
‘Well, it certainly never is where you’re concerned,’ she replied acidly. ‘Your last job was on a cruise ship. Hardly challenging medicine.’
‘Actually, it was extremely challenging.’ Suddenly Seb’s eyes glittered ominously. ‘A great deal more challenging than life as a GP in a community like this one.’
How on earth could pandering to the occupants of a cruise ship ever be considered challenging?
‘Which just goes to prove that this isn’t the sort of practice for a man like you.’
He straightened and moved towards her, his voice suddenly hard. ‘What you know about me as a man—or what you know about any other man, come to that—wouldn’t cover one page of a prescription pad. So don’t prejudge me, Joanna. For the next few weeks, until George decides to come back, I’m your partner. Like it or not.’
A wave of exhaustion swamped her. Suddenly all she wanted was to go to bed and sleep. She didn’t have the energy for any more verbal sparring.
‘All right.’ She took a deep breath, hardly able to believe that she was saying the words. ‘If you’re really prepared to bury yourself in the middle of ‘‘nowhere’’, and you’re really prepared to pull your weight, I suppose I’d be foolish to refuse your offer.’
His smile was wry. ‘Your overwhelming enthusiasm for my company is so flattering.’
Joanna’s mouth tightened at his tone. ‘Life’s too short to play games, Dr Macaulay. I refuse to pretend to be pleased about something I know will never work. You know as well as I do that we’ve never seen eye to eye on anything—’
‘Probably because I’m over six feet and you’re barely five feet five. Maybe you should try standing on a box when we talk—you might be more comfortable.’
She silently and slowly counted to ten. She’d always thought of herself as an incredibly patient person, but clearly she didn’t know herself very well.
‘This is never going to work,’ she said heavily. ‘You just never take life seriously.’
‘Whereas you, on the other hand, take it much too seriously,’ he rejoined, and she bit her lip, knowing that what he’d said was true.
She did take life seriously, but there were reasons for that. Good reasons. Reasons he knew nothing about.
She straightened her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. ‘If you’re seriously planning to work here, you’re going to have to accept the way I am, Dr Macaulay. Just as I’m going to have to accept the way you are.’
‘The way I am?’ He gave an incredulous laugh as he absorbed her words. ‘You mean someone who enjoys life while he can—what’s so wrong with that? Why is it wrong to approach life with optimism and humour?’ He shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t understand her attitude. ‘There are so many awful things happening in the world that we need to grab happiness while we can. That’s what I do, Joanna.’