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‘You?’ Ally gave a snort of derision. ‘You’re a clone of the original Stone-Age version. The only difference is that you wear clothes instead of a loincloth.’
His eyes gleamed with unholy laughter. ‘Any time you want to see me in a loincloth, Dr McGuire, you only have to ask.’
Vivid images of Sean Nicholson with no clothes on flashed before her eyes and she coloured furiously. His smile deepened.
‘You’re the limit!’ Her tongue moistened dry lips and her breath caught as his eyes dropped to her mouth.
‘So why aren’t you married, Dr McGuire?’
Ally lifted her chin. ‘That’s none of your business.’
His eyes met hers. ‘Charlie obviously isn’t Mr Right, then.’
‘Let’s get one thing straight, shall we?’ Ally glared at him. ‘You can move into my barn if you so wish because it would please Will and, frankly, I haven’t the energy to argue, but don’t read any more into it. You’re my lodger. Nothing more.’
Sean raised an eyebrow. ‘Have I asked for more?’
Ally blushed. ‘Well, no, but—’
‘I never touch another man’s woman, and you’ve told me you’re already involved with someone.’ There was something benign about his expression that she didn’t trust an inch. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘So that’s that, then.’ He drained his mug and stood up, his powerful figure dominating the small room. ‘Of course, if you weren’t involved with someone then the situation would be entirely different.’
His eyes held hers for a long moment and she swallowed uncomfortably. Had he guessed? What was going to happen when he found out that the person she was involved with was her daughter? She gave herself a shake. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing. Because she would make sure it didn’t. She owed it to Charlie.
CHAPTER THREE
SURGERY was relatively quiet, courtesy of the extra pair of hands—a fact not missed by the patients.
‘I see there’s a new doctor!’ One of Ally’s regulars settled herself comfortably in the chair and looked expectant.
Ally suppressed a sigh of frustration. Some of her patients were wonderful but some of them were just downright nosy!
‘That’s right, Mrs Turner, we’re glad to have the help.’
Mrs Turner fiddled in her handbag and pulled out a handkerchief. ‘Will this one be staying longer than the last one, then?’
Ally forced a smile. She sincerely hoped not. With any luck he’d be moving on in a few weeks and she’d be able to breathe properly again.
‘Dr Nicholson is a locum doctor. He’s only temporary. Now then, what can I help you with today?’
The old lady looked momentarily baffled. ‘Well, nothing, dear, I—’
‘You came to see me, Mrs Turner,’ Ally reminded her gently, and was rewarded with a smile.
‘Of course! I remember now. My ears.’ She shook her head gingerly. ‘They’re popping all the time.’
Ally picked up her auroscope and examined both her patient’s ears carefully. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Mrs Turner, just a build-up of wax. Make an appointment with Sister to have them syringed. You need to put a few drops of olive oil into your ears for a few days before you see her.’
‘Wax! Is that all?’ The old lady looked at her suspiciously. ‘Did you get a proper look?’
Ally smothered her smile. ‘Wax can be very painful. If there’s no improvement after you’ve had them syringed, come back and see me.’
She watched Mrs Turner go with a wry smile, her mind only half on the job. The other half was on Sean Nicholson and how she was going to handle him. One thing was sure, he wasn’t an easy man to brush off. Once he wanted something he got it. And was that her? With a groan she rubbed her aching forehead with her slim fingers and then summoned up a smile as her next patient tapped on the door.
Mary Thompson was a nervous lady in her late forties whom Ally usually saw only rarely. Lately she’d been visiting the surgery every few weeks, each time with something minor. Ally had a growing suspicion that something else was wrong.
‘Hello, Mrs Thompson.’ Ally smiled at her gently. ‘What can I do for you today?’
The woman settled herself on the edge of the chair, her thin fingers twisting her gloves.
‘I’m so sorry to bother you but I’ve had a bit of a cough, Doctor.’
Ally nodded and reached for her stethoscope. ‘For how long?’
Mrs Thompson looked vague. ‘Oh, a couple of weeks, I suppose—hard to say, really. But it’s keeping me awake at night.’
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