About the Author

A lifelong reader of most genres, LOUISA GEORGE discovered romance novels later than most, but immediately fell in love with the intensity of emotion, the high drama and the family focus of Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance.

With a Bachelors Degree in Communication and a nursing qualification under her belt, writing Medical Romance seemed a natural progression—the perfect combination of her two interests. And making things up is a great way to spend the day!

An English ex-pat, Louisa now lives north of Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two teenage sons and two male cats. Writing romance is her opportunity to covertly inject a hefty dose of pink into her heavily testosterone-dominated household. When she’s not writing or researching Louisa loves to spend time with her family and friends, enjoys travelling, and adores great food. She’s also hopelessly addicted to Zumba®.

One Month to
Become a Mum
Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader

This is my debut novel for Mills and Boon® Medical™ Romance, and I’m thrilled you’ve picked up a copy!

This story is set in North Beach, a fictional place based on the many beautiful townships dotted around coastal New Zealand. The sparkling ocean, white sand and friendly community offer a haven of tranquillity.

For Jessie and Luke North Beach also offers a fabulous place to heal a broken heart although they’re both too stubborn to realise it.

We all have our fantasies of how our happy-ever-after will be. But for Jessie and Luke past experiences have tainted their ideals, they’ve both experienced loss and abandonment, and neither is looking for love.

While writing this I wanted to explore themes of hope in the face of tragedy, and to examine what family means. Is it purely flesh and blood? Or is it forged from the emotional ties that bind us?

I hope you enjoy Jessie and Luke’s journey, watching them slowly learn to trust, laugh and let in love again.

I would love to hear from you. Visit me at www.louisageorge.com

Warm wishes

Louisa

Dedication

To my Mum. Thank you for your never-ending supply of laughter, love and support, and for gifting me the love of words.

For Warren, Sam and James. You guys are my everything. With you in my life I am the luckiest woman in the world. I love you.

CHAPTER ONE

JESSICA PRICE dived deep into her brother’s back-yard pool and savoured the cool water.

Heat burnt into her eyes.

Damn.

Pain stabbed behind her eyeballs.

She breaststroked to the pool edge and rubbed her face, squeezed the water from her eyes. And again. Tried to focus across the garden, but saw nothing except a series of blurred shadows. Soft edges.

Slipping out of the pool, she stumbled to the outside shower, breath stuttering as ice-cold water doused her face.

That pool should come with a health warning. She’d have to check the chemical balance before she got into it again. Tired frustration limped through her jet-lagged muscles. So much for a relaxing swim after a zillion hours on a plane.

‘Hello? Is someone there?’

The squeak of the gate and the man’s voice had her grabbing a towel and on alert. And so much for her craved-for peace and quiet. Go away. ‘Er … hello?’

She switched off the tap, wrapped the towel around her waist and glanced down at her stomach. Well covered. Good. Otherwise whisky-warm-voice man would have a view he’d be unlikely to forget in a hurry.

One glimpse of her scars would leave the poor guy with nightmares. Not as bad as hers, but disturbing enough.

‘Hello?’ she said again, trying to focus on the blurry image in front of her. She tilted her chin upwards and pretended she was used to entertaining strangers while dressed in four-year-old saggy-bottomed togs and her brother’s faded All Blacks towel. ‘Can I help you?’

‘If you’re planning on a swim, forget it,’ the tall smudge said. ‘I just chucked ten litres of chlorine in.’

‘Too late, mate. No wonder my eyeballs feel like melting marshmallows skewered on sharp sticks.’ She pointed to her eyes and hoped they didn’t look as red as they felt. ‘Where I grew up, pool boys left notes if there were excessive chemicals in the pool. It’s beyond dangerous. Imagine if a child had jumped in …’

‘And where I grew up we introduced ourselves before we hurled insults around.’ The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced with a tone as cold as the shower water. ‘I’m not your damned pool boy. I’m Luke McKenzie.’

The dramatic pause he left hanging in the air made her think she should know that name. The gravitas he projected made her think everyone should know that name.

Some NZ idol perhaps? A rugby player? It was lost on her. Two years in the Asian hinterland had her out of step with Kiwi celebrities. ‘Yes? And?’

‘Your brother’s business partner?’

‘Ah … Now you come to mention it …’ Her cheeks burned as recognition wrestled with embarrassment for prime place in her jet-lag-numbed brain. Big brother Zac had left a note. She’d scanned it as she’d thrown her rucksack down, but hadn’t paid much attention.

Luke. The doctor.

Tragic, really. With that frost-tinged dark-velvet voice he was wasted in medicine. ‘So you’re that Luke.’

‘And I assume you’re Jessie? You weren’t supposed to arrive from Outer Mongolia—or wherever it was you were finding yourself—until tomorrow.’

‘I was not finding myself. I was working in Vietnam.’ Nice voice, shame about the manners. Typical, but when Zac had begged her to babysit his general practice he’d forgotten to mention she’d be working with Captain Grump. ‘I thought I’d get an earlier plane and catch Zac before he headed off. No such luck.’

‘He left yesterday. Wanted to get an extra night in Queenstown—the parties are legendary.’ The stinging concentrated into a fierce ache behind her eyes. The Blur seemed to get larger. She guessed he’d come closer as a hint of warm citrus and spice male scent hung in the humid air. Very disconcerting. She tried not to inhale.

‘Your eyes look hellish. You might need to sloosh them with cold water.’

‘You don’t say?’

‘I do. So you’d better come with me.’ Before she could argue, a solid hand steered her into the kitchen and stood her next to the sink.

She shrugged him off. Perfecting the art of keeping her distance from tall, overconfident men had taken a lot of willpower over the last two years. She had no intention of changing that now, melting eyeballs or not. ‘Seriously, I’m fine. I can manage.’

‘Good job I came back when I did. Chlorine fumes can make you pretty sick. You look cold.’

‘Geez, I wonder why.’

He wrapped a towel around her shoulders, apparently oblivious to her shrugging or sarcasm.

In fact, he was surprisingly gentle. Assured and persistent. With a tender touch. Three qualities she’d once admired in a man, then learnt to avoid at all costs. A heady mix experience told her was a recipe for disaster.

Please go. Jessie clutched the towel tightly round her middle, wishing she had something more appropriate to wear. Even though her swimsuit almost covered her from neck to knee, and looked like something Great-Auntie Joan might have worn back in the day, she felt sure her scars were visible. She tried to steal a look but the pain was worse if she moved her eyeballs. ‘I’ve travelled the world on my own. I can manage an eye bath.’

‘Stop arguing and tip your head over the basin. I promised Zac I’d look after you.’

‘I’m not sure blinding his sister was quite what he had in mind.’ Even though her eyes burnt like merry hell she couldn’t help responding to the surprise of his laughter. It had a deep quality to it that resounded around the kitchen, absorbing her ill humour. She couldn’t stop a giggle as she held her palms up. ‘Okay, I’m tipping. I’m tipping.’

‘Are you always this melodramatic? I’m only trying to help.’ Whereas most men ran a mile from her barbed comments, Luke seemed amused. Why weren’t her well-honed distancing techniques working today?

‘You’d be more help if you left.’

‘Yes, quite the drama queen. Zac didn’t warn me about that.’

‘How dare …?’ Ice water trickled down her face and silenced her retort. It was directed expertly into her eyes and down her hairline. Captain Grump supported her head, stroking her wet hair out of the way, his face only inches from hers. His breath, quickening with every movement, grazed her throat.

Hard muscles brushed against her hip as he curled around her to fill the measuring cup. Warm hands cupped her face as he wiped the water dripping down her chin.

At his touch a weird kind of buzz zinged along her nerve pathways. A buzz that made her want to see his features properly, the colour of his eyes.

Jessie swallowed. Get a grip. Since when did eye colour matter? He was an overbearing doctor with little regard for personal space. Although, she conceded, he’d probably see it as dealing with minor trauma.

The last time she was this close to a guy she’d been pumelling Michael’s doughy backside with her fists after discovering him having desk sex with the admin assistant. A direct result, he’d insisted, of Jessie’s inability to meet his needs.

Looking back, she chose to see the scenario as funny, but she’d learnt the hard way about bombastic doctors with soft hands. So buzzing and zinging were totally off limits.

She shoved both the tacky image of Michael’s dimpled bottom and Captain Grump away, then dried her eyes on the towel, grappling for breathing space.

‘That’s great now. Thanks. You can go.’

‘Aw, and I was having so much fun.’ His own sarcasm wasn’t missed by her. ‘I’m going. But if your eyes don’t get better, you should get them checked over.’

‘You betcha.’

‘And if you need anything, just holler.’

‘Will do.’

‘And Zac asked me to show you around.’

‘Another time.’ Like never?

‘Sure.’ He sounded relieved. ‘We’re just across the way, the old white villa.’

Across the way. Great, she’d moved into Wisteria Lane. All nosey neighbours and picture-perfect families. Just what she didn’t need. Still, at least that meant he was probably married with a dozen kids—thank the Lord. Someone else to bother with his electric touch and alluring scent.

She’d make sure she wouldn’t need anything. ‘Absolutely, next time I want my eyes burning out of my skull I’ll be right over.’

Through the haze she noted a half-smile.

‘Otherwise I’ll meet you in the cul de sac, Monday, eight o’clock sharp. I can show you the main sights, bring you up to speed with the practice on the drive to work.’ He turned and walked to the door, his long legs covering the distance in no time.

‘Hey, wait …’ The familiar unease Jessie thought she’d conquered tightened in her stomach. Get in a car with him? Get in a car, period? Her worst nightmare.

Flying, cycling, walking. She could do those, no problem. But driving in an unfamiliar car? Not if she could help it. ‘I’d planned to walk. Zac said it’s not far.’

‘We’re always busy Monday morning and I’ve a lot to tell you. Eight o’clock.’ His smile melted and his voice became serious and controlled.

Clearly he was a man used to getting his own way. He stood filling the doorway, one hand resting on the wall. The other hung at his side. Capable hands. Safe. No doubt his driving skills were satisfactory. Surely. Besides, she didn’t know the route. Driving would be fine. She shrugged her agreement. Just this once.

Much against her better judgement, Jessie found herself in the cul de sac, clenching and unclenching her fists, Monday morning at eight o’clock. Sharp.

As far as first days went, this was turning into a real doozie. Right up there with the first day of her first period and the first day of double braces.

Damn and double damn.

She glimpsed him on the first-floor decking. ‘Hey, Luke. Could I have a quick word before we go?’

He peered down over the neat wisteria-clad balcony. ‘Sure. You okay, Jessie?’

‘No, I’m not okay. Can you come down here?’ Sliding her hands on her hips, she drew herself up to her full five feet three. So not enough. ‘This feels like a scene from a Shakespeare play. And you’re not pretty enough to be Juliet.’

In what felt like a nano-second he was towering over her. She gulped. Actually—mortifyingly—gulped. Pretty didn’t come close. Try devastating.

He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a razor-blade advert, all proud jaw, taut muscles and tight thighs. Neat and functional dark cropped hair, the complete opposite of her chaotic mop. A pale blue polo shirt and dark grey chinos completed the look of casual professionalism. Every inch the perfect community doctor. Her heart kicked into super-hyper-majorly fast tachycardia.

Her lips dried. Her mouth dried. She spluttered.

Breathe. She found her self-control and pushed it centre stage. No way was she going to be bamboozled by a pretty face. Not again. Dragging a hand across her stomach, she felt the ridged skin and shoved back the memories. Nothing like a gnarly scar to keep a girl centred.

‘Don’t worry, forget it. We’re going to be late.’

‘Whoa!’ Luke’s eyebrows peaked as he so obviously tried to hide a smirk. And failed. ‘Man. Your hair.’

‘That obvious, huh?’ Her heart sank. ‘You and your hefty dose of chlorine have turned my hair …’

‘Green? This is bad.’ Bad? Judging by the grin splitting his irritatingly gorgeous chiseled cheeks, this was the most fun he’d had with a locum for a while.

‘Go ahead, laugh.’

‘Okay, if you insist.’

She nodded as despair toyed with the fading traces of her good humour. She’d so hoped she could do Zac proud. Coming to North Beach had been the first step towards family reconciliation. And she’d been only too pleased to help out, but now look. One step away from utter humiliation.

‘Believe me, this is way better than it was. I spent all of yesterday researching cures on the internet and then washing it in different stuff. Tomato paste, baking soda and vinegar. One by one. Over and over.’

Frizz stood out from the sides of her head like unruly garden twine. She tried to smooth it down with her palm. ‘If your patients complain about me smelling like a salad dressing, you know why.’

He leaned close and sniffed the top of her head. His soap and shampoo scent had a hint of cinnamon and apple. Freshly laundered cotton strained over broad shoulders as he bent towards her. Shoulders that could take the weight of the world, she imagined, and muscles that were well looked after.

His proximity tormented her fraying nerves and flagging willpower. Her hermitic lifestyle suited her just fine, but sometimes, on very rare occasions, she craved a shoulder to lean against. The comfort of human contact.

And suddenly she had a strange urge to nestle into the crook of his neck—if only she could reach—and breathe every six-feet-too-many-inches of him in. She sighed, hating herself for even thinking of breaking the promises she’d made to herself. Especially with someone so … male.

Was she really that frazzled? It was only a bit of green hair, after all.

‘I can’t smell anything untoward.’ Luke ran a hand over his chin as he regarded her with mock concern. ‘Dr Price, I’d like to say your green hair is hardly noticeable but, actually, it is rather loud.’

‘If you’d left a note I wouldn’t have dived into that pool,’ she insisted, laughing despite her misgivings. ‘This is all your fault.’

‘Sure.’ He nodded, his lips curving upwards. ‘That’s right, blame the helping guy.’

‘I’d hate to see what damage you’d do if you were deliberately trying, then.’

‘There we go with the melodrama again.’ Luke laughed. She was so not what he’d expected. Zac was so laid-back he was horizontal, but his sister was wound as tight as her green-blonde corkscrew hair. Her dark blue eyes had a keep-your-distance glare, and too much sadness for someone so young. She wore a flimsy navy blouse, and snug black pants that clung to those interesting curves he’d glimpsed the other day.

A thumb hooked through her trouser belt loop and her chin tilted at a defiant angle. Not the most feminine stance, and yet everything about her screamed sensual woman. She was like a fiery pixie, small in stature, big on personality. With a very sharp tongue.

Which, frankly, he could do without. It was taking up way too much of his time. Jessie might turn out to be a damned fine locum, but he couldn’t wait until Zac came back and order was restored.

A spark of daring in those dark eyes danced in the dappled early morning light. ‘So, do you still want me?’

‘What?’ He cleared his throat in an attempt to stem a surge of good old male heat. What red-blooded guy wouldn’t?

He stepped back. And again. Sure, he’d promised Zac to be nice and keep an eye on her, but he needed to force some space. She had an intriguing edgy vulnerability, something he’d learnt to avoid at all costs. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘A simple one. I used words of one syllable just to keep it easy for you.’ An eyebrow peaked as she pursed her lips. ‘You seem a little … distracted. I said, seeing as I look like an advert for swamp chic, do you still want me at the surgery?’

‘Oh, I suppose. Zac says you’re a very capable doctor. And we are desperate.’ She didn’t look like she’d be able to lift a scalpel let alone old enough to use one. But somehow, he guessed, she’d know exactly where to stick that blade.

‘I ready, Daddy.’ Lucy appeared at the front door, clutching her pink rucksack. Luke’s heart squeezed. He turned to give his little girl his full attention. ‘Hey, sweetheart.’

‘Who’s dat?’

He picked her up and hugged her close, relishing the feel of his wriggling daughter. Tentatively he was navigating his way through the chaos of solo parenting. The initial gaping hole of disbelief and—at times—outright fear had been filled by a bundle of mischief that demanded his full attention, gave him all of his joy. And most of his stress.

‘Have you got your books? Water bottle? Lunchbox?’ He ticked off her daily requisites. ‘Inhaler? Spare pants?’

Her head bobbed up and down proudly. ‘Yes, Daddy. All things.’

‘Good girl. That list we made helps, eh?’ Would he ever remember everything? Each day, it seemed, her needs changed. She was growing so fast and he was running to catch up.

He breathed in her strawberry anti-tangle shampoo scent and tickled her ribs. She squealed and squirmed as he held on tight. No other female would ever feel this good in his arms.

‘Now, this lady is Jessie. She’s Uncle Zac’s sister and she’s going to help me at work.’

‘Jessie, this is my daughter.’ He turned round to see Jessie’s smirk replaced with abject sadness. Tears pricked her eyes. She looked for a second as if her whole world had collapsed.

Then she lifted her chin and tapped her watch. ‘Oh. Goodness. Late.’

Deep crimson flushed her cheeks. She flashed a lacklustre half-smile, abruptly stalked to the car and climbed into the passenger seat with no further word.

He followed, irked by her strange reaction. Clipping Lucy safely into her car seat, he bit back a retort. Jessie had obviously been thrown by the sight of his daughter.

But why? Why had she suddenly changed from feisty to flustered?

He slammed the door, unwittingly startling Lucy. Then he blew his daughter a kiss through the window and she wiggled her open palm back. He glanced at the front passenger seat. How was Jessie reacting to that?

No. Stop.

This was exactly the reason women were off the menu—he didn’t have time to waste worrying about what other people thought, whether he’d said or done the wrong thing. He’d learnt pretty rapidly that, where women were concerned, nothing was the right thing. One failed marriage later and he would not be repeating the experience.

So he was not going to grace Jessie’s strange actions with a question. The less he got involved with her, the better.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, gunned the engine and pulled into the road. ‘Everyone okay and ready to go?’

‘Fine.’ Jessie hung onto the doorhandle and practised her deep-breathing exercises. She could not bring herself to look over her shoulder at the little girl in the back seat. Or at Luke’s speedometer. Or at his face. Her hasty retreat to the car had probably appeared rude. Judging by his flattened expression, Luke thought she was a complete fruit loop. She so desperately wanted to get out and walk.

Absolutely the number-one doozie of first days.

Any chance of a rewind? Preferably back to that brief email conversation with Zac where she’d agreed to come and help. Building bridges was all well and good, but there was a limit. Cars and babies were hers. And now she could add green hair to the list.

‘You don’t look fine.’ He glanced at her white knuckles. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No.’

‘First-day nerves?’

‘Yeah. Something like that.’

She’d done enough navel-gazing and healing to last a lifetime and was proud of her strength and resilience. So she was surprised at the force of her reaction when she’d seen the little ankle-biter today. Usually she coped well with children, if prepared. It wasn’t that she disliked them, far from it. But after her accident she couldn’t have them.

Which meant she had to suck up her dreams and get on with her new life. She breathed away the shafts of pain arrowing her solar plexus. Sometimes the brave face she plastered on every day felt a little less brave than she’d like.

Luke slammed his foot on the accelerator and surged onto the highway into speeding traffic. ‘Ha! There’s often a mini rush-hour at this time. The trick is to nudge in quickly, then we’re high and dry.’

‘Whoa. Any chance of taking it easy?’ Jessie’s heart rate notched into hyperdrive as she pumped her foot on an imaginary brake and scanned around for oncoming out-of-control traffic. ‘Or has NASCAR shifted to North Beach?’

He shot a glance at her then focused again on the road. ‘Sorry. Vietnam’s legendary traffic chaos got you spooked?’

‘No, I just don’t like going fast. It’s all good now.’ Good now they were travelling in a long line of traffic at no faster than a snail’s pace. Yes, tomorrow she’d walk.

‘Da-a-addy?’ Lucy’s voice was more whimper than whine.

‘Yes, honey?’ Double-chocolate fudge dripped through his response. There was no doubting his affection for his little girl. Love oozed through every word.

‘Is Jess the Grinch?’

‘No! Lucy!’ A sharp intake of breath accompanied his stifled laugh. Jessie could have sworn he blushed. If men did that kind of thing. She was out of practice with what men did, or didn’t do. Michael had certainly never blushed. Even when caught with his pants down. She shuddered. Cling onto that image and she’d never look at a man again.

‘I’m sorry Jessie, she didn’t mean it.’ Luke laughed again. ‘You’re nothing like the Grinch.’

‘The what? Okay, tell me, what the heck is a Grinch?’

‘It’s a … well, it’s an evil green creature …’ Luke flicked her a wry smile and shrugged apologetically. Although he didn’t look remotely sorry. ‘It’s a character in a kid’s story who tries to steal Christmas. Pretty scary stuff when you’re two.’

‘Great. So my hair will be giving the children nightmares and the oldies heart attacks!’ She pigged her eyes and put on a witchy voice. ‘Then my work here will be done.’

‘Ah, is that what’s eating you? Seriously? The hair? Don’t worry.’ His smile softened. ‘You’ll be fine. I’m sure.’

‘I wish I could believe you.’ Jessie stole a look at his profile. Tiny lines edged his temple. Above the curve of his lip she noticed a diminutive dimple, just small enough to fit the end of her little finger, or the tip of her tongue.

Whoa, that had come out of left field. She pushed it straight back there. Fleetingly something hot shifted in her stomach, like a million butterflies flexing their wings.

Strange. Butterflies? Maybe she did have first-day nerves after all.

From the back of the car Lucy’s laughter turned into a cough. A tight whistling wheeze, she noted, on exhalation. A chesty rattle. And again. Then it was gone.

A shadow fell over Luke’s face, his features froze in concern. Just watching his reaction made Jessie’s heart slam against her ribcage.

‘Lucy? You okay, baby?’

‘Okay, Daddy.’ She coughed some more.

Jessie twisted to get a glimpse of the toddler and check her pallor. But Luke had clipped her directly behind Jessie’s seat. All she managed to see was a pair of chubby legs stuffed into bright red Mary-Janes.

Her heart fluttered and she calmed it. It was just a cough. Lots of kids had them. Why was she thinking of getting involved? The kid’s father was a doctor and sitting right there. ‘She’s probably having a panic attack at sharing a ride with a green-haired Christmas-stealing creature.’

‘No. It’s fragile asthma.’ A frown furrowed his forehead as he glanced at his daughter in the driver’s mirror for the tenth time. ‘Spent a few nights in hospital over the years. Never want to go there again. The spacer is our friend.’ He winked at Lucy. ‘Hey, honey? Cough better now?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘Good girl.’ He smiled stiffly as he steered the car into a kowhai-flanked car park in front of a smart colonial-style villa. Yellow flowers glittered in the sunshine. ‘It’s triggered by stress, excitement, fear—you know, the usual suspects …’

‘Scary stuff.’ She’d seen too many parents eaten away by worry, watching their child struggle for breath. Luke would be the same. No one could take childhood asthma lightly. ‘Maybe you should take some time out with her. Do you want me to check her over?’

‘I do the checking.’ He jumped out of the car, his expression still closed. He looked across the roof and fixed her with a grey stare. ‘She’s my daughter, my responsibility. I’ll walk her round to crèche, settle her in, then meet you in the staff kitchen. Ten minutes.’

‘Oh. Okay. Bye, Lucy.’ Jessie blinked at the fast-disappearing pair lost in each other as they walked hand in hand round the corner. Her suggestion of help had brought a weirdly abrupt end to their conversation. Clearly Luke was fiercely protective where his daughter was concerned and didn’t welcome any kind of support. Even so, understanding his curt response didn’t make it sting any less.

She hauled her bag onto her shoulder and turned to the surgery. That was as far as she would allow her thoughts to go on the matter.

Exhaling deeply, she pushed open the white-painted door and stepped into a sunny reception area. The familiar smell of disinfectant immediately cemented her focus.

This environment was where she felt most at home, behind the mask of her job. Three weeks here, four weeks there, scraping enough to fund her charity work. Helping people. Saving lives. This was her calling, her life.

She slicked a hand over her chaotic curls and breathed in her professional calm. Green hair or not, she was here to do a job, not expend energy on a distraction like Luke McKenzie.

CHAPTER TWO

‘A BEE sting? I’ll be right there.’ Luke shoved away the inconvenient distracting thoughts about his locum that had been flitting in and out of his head all morning, and focused on the emergency. Adrenalin kicked into his gut like a mini-explosion and he relished the buzz it gave him. Managed properly, the outcome would be fine. Managed badly and …

Bee sting. Anaphylaxis. Death.

He hurried down to Reception, to be met by a cacophony and chaos.

A small crowd had formed around a woman who was screaming relentlessly. Her shrieks filled the waiting room, the agony of panic and fear. A flushed child hung from her arms.

‘Quick, my boy. Help.’ The woman charged at him. ‘He can’t breathe.’

‘Ambulance. Oxygen. Resus trolley,’ Luke yelled at his receptionist, ignoring the tearing in his heart at the sight of a desperately sick child. No matter how many times he dealt with this kind of emergency it always threw him back to Lucy in a hospital bed hooked up to a ventilator. But he had no time to surrender to emotion, he needed medical auto pilot. ‘Room One. Now.’

Grabbing the child, he ran to the closest treatment room, laid the boy on the couch and began to assess.

‘Name?’

The boy’s mum pushed forward and held her son’s hand. Her face was ashen as she struggled to get the words out. ‘Ty-Tyler.’

‘Age?’

She looked at him, puzzled.

‘I need to know for the medicine dosage.’

‘Seven.’

‘Weight?’

‘I don’t know … twenty-odd kilos. I think.’ Her mouth trembled as her voice wavered again. ‘I should know. How could I not know?’

‘It’s okay. We’ll work it out.’ Because of Lucy’s asthma he knew every single relevant detail of her life, and lots of the irrelevant stuff too. But he couldn’t blame this mother. How could she comprehend that knowing a child’s weight at any given moment might be important, just in case of an inconceivable emergency?

Tyler’s lips had doubled in size, his arms and face and what was visible of his chest in the V of his shirt were covered in angry red hives. His puffed-up eyes screamed out for help as he writhed and clutched his throat. Traces of vomit graced his front. His whole body shook in panic. But he was whimpering. Which meant he could breathe. For now.

Luke checked Tyler’s pulse. Rapid and weak. He wrapped an automatic blood-pressure cuff around the boy’s arm and waited for its verdict. Dangerously low. Slipping a pulse oxy-meter onto Tyler’s thumb, he grimaced.

‘Come on. Where the hell is that oxygen? The trolley?’ Sats dropping, airway almost compromised. Was he supposed to just watch the boy sink into arrest?

This reaction was severe and headed down a perilous path. Anaphylaxis had its own timetable. And it was always too fast.

‘Where was he stung?’

‘Back of his neck. I put ice on.’

‘Any other allergies?’

‘No. I should have watched him more closely.’ The mother’s hands trembled and tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled down the back of Tyler’s collar and revealed a livid lump with a tiny black barb sticking out.

Luke grabbed tweezers and yanked the sting out. ‘Has he any other medical problems?’

‘N-no. Oh, my God. Help him.’ She tore at Luke’s sleeve, barring his way.

‘I’m trying. Please. If you could just wait outside. We need …’

He glanced to the door and beckoned to Maggie, the practice nurse, to take Tyler’s mother to a calmer environment. Though he knew every pore of her would strain to stay with her child, his own ghoulish experiences had taught him she would never ever forget the disturbing images that could unfold. He wouldn’t wish that on another parent.

As Maggie shuffled the desperate mum away, Luke caught sight of Jessie, portable oxygen tank in one hand and dragging a trolley behind her with the other. Thank God.

Another doctor. Help. That must be why the hairs on the back of his neck had stood to attention at the sight of her. Yes.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to bark orders.

She threw the cylinder onto the bed and switched it on. The reassuring whoosh of pressurised oxygen filled the room. ‘Anaphylaxis?’

‘Yep. Bee sting. Pretty rapid onset. I need adrenalin. Now.’

‘I’ve got heaps, shame you can’t bottle it.’ For a millisecond her eyes met his. Her calm dark pupils glistened. Clearly she enjoyed emergency work as much as he did. A shot of heat pumped alongside the adrenalin racing through his veins. He took a steadying breath.

Focus.

As Jessie secured the mask over Tyler’s grossly swollen face, Luke snatched out a packet of ampoules and an injection set. He checked the label. ‘Adrenaline 1 per 1000. 0.3 mL. Right?’ He drew the clear liquid into the syringe and primed the needle. ‘Now, I need to get this into him.’

He turned to the child. ‘Hold on there, Tyler. Let’s get those shorts up, mate. A sharp scratch. Attaboy.’

Luke couldn’t wait for more than a nod of consent. ‘Stay still. Still.’

If he stopped, just for a second, he could risk this child’s life. He dragged up the leg of Tyler’s shorts and plunged the life-saving fluid deep into his thigh muscle.

‘And I’ll secure intravenous access.’ Jessie searched the trolley but shook her head. ‘Which is the twenty-four gauge? The packaging’s different wherever you go.’

‘Clear packet.’ He directed her to the right-sized luer.

‘Got it.’ She snapped a tourniquet round Tyler’s skinny arm, tapped gently then stabbed the sharp point into his vein. ‘Damn, I think his peripherals are shutting down. No, no, wait.’

She peered down, a concentrated frown on her face. The boy’s arm flopped to the side as she rubbed and palpated. ‘We’re good to go. I’ll get a line up and some normal saline in.’

The look she flashed him was one of pure relief.

The boy was in shock and needed an urgent boost. If IV access wasn’t secured now and his veins shut down completely there’d be hell to pay and a bigger mess when he got to the hospital.

‘Well done, Grinch.’

This new look she threw him wasn’t so gleeful. But it still had the same effect. A direct hit to his abdomen where it pooled in a shimmering glow. Damn. Tyler might be crawling out of the woods but Luke was getting woefully lost in the details of a woman’s smile. What on earth was wrong with him today? Find a map and get out quick.

‘Mum?’ Tyler dragged the mask from his face, his voice wobbly and weak. His eyes were bloodshot and very, very scared. ‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Steady on, Tyler. I know this sucks.’ Luke gently but firmly pushed the mask back over Tyler’s face. Could someone please invent a mask that doesn’t frighten the hell out of kids?

‘Doesn’t matter if they’re disguised as fish, dragons or shaped like kooky lollipops, they still make a scary noise, eh, buddy?’ Jessie stroked the boy’s head.

Luke stood open-mouthed. ‘Are you a mind reader? I was thinking the exact same thing. Weird.’

‘What?’ She frowned. ‘No. It’s just scary for them. Keep that there a bit longer, Ty, while the juice works its magic.’

‘Want Mum.’

‘I’ll send someone for her in a minute, mate. Hold still. You’re being real brave.’ A wriggling patient normally caused Luke a great deal of agro, but this time it meant he’d done his job and saved a life.

Relief surged into his belly. He leaned against the trolley and allowed himself a deep exhalation.

He always worked on autopilot, pushing back any thoughts of what-ifs and maybes, following a path of medical drugs and best practice. The high of his own fight-or-flight chemicals carried him along. But after the event he struggled with the kickback, the jittery blast of emotion and the unassailable desperate truth that one day it might just be his own daughter he was working on.

‘Back with us?’ Jessie stroked the boy’s hair and beamed at Luke. Her eyes lit up, revealing gold flecks in the pools of deep blue. Thick black eyelashes brushed her cheeks and a smattering of freckles crinkled over her nose. Her body relaxed into the smile as she nodded and spoke. ‘His resp rate’s much better already. Blood pressure rising. Sats at ninety-eight. I can never get over just how quickly adrenalin kicks in.’

‘Yeah. They don’t call it a rush for nothing.’

That smile just about stopped Luke’s heart beating. The warmth of it reached right down to his toes, wrapping him in a haze of heat.

But there was more to a woman than a bright smile. Lies, arguments and pain, for example. This was why he spent every day as a single dad. He may be half of an excellent doctoring team, but flying solo at home suited him just fine. It was like a comfortable sofa he’d no intention of updating.

He forced himself to look away and fuss with the luer, finding his equilibrium again.

Tyler’s mother’s chipped toenails and stripy jandals came into his peripheral vision. He scanned upwards, hoping she hadn’t seen the extent to which they’d had to manhandle her child. ‘Hi, there. How’re you doing?’

‘Is he okay? What happened?’ Her voice trembled.

Luke wrapped an arm round her, helped her find a spot to sit next to her son. He knew how much she’d be wanting to touch Tyler, hold him, breathe him in. ‘It’s okay. He’s going to be fine. Yes, you can hold his hand. He’s a bit of a pin cushion, though and he’s been through the wars.’

He rubbed his knuckles across the boy’s head and ruffled his hair. The kid smiled weakly and Luke felt a comradely connection. ‘I reckon he deserves a treat later. Maybe when he gets the all-clear, ice cream might be nice?’

Jessie watched in awe. Forget bombastic. Commanding. Empathetic. Luke’s velvet voice had taken on a lulling tone, so calming. Trust me, it said.

It certainly seemed to be working on Tyler and his mum, who gazed at him, solemn as he reassured them.

He did everything by the book. Assessing, acting, anticipating. And all with genuine compassion.

‘As you know, Tyler had an allergic reaction to a bee sting.’ Luke held the woman’s hand and now focused entirely on her as he spoke. ‘We’ve given him an injection to help, but sometimes the reaction can come back. So we’ll keep an eye on him in hospital for a day or so. Has this ever happened before?’

‘No. Never. It was horrible.’ She shivered and turned to Jessie. ‘You saved his life. Thank you.’

‘Hey, really, it’s my job. He might have to carry a special injection around with him after this. Just in case he gets another sting, and another reaction this bad.’

Jessie twisted to check on their patient. She’d been holding his wrist and monitoring his pulse. ‘He’s getting a better colour in his lips now. His heart’s still racing, but that’ll be from the bolus of adrenalin. It saved his life, but it can give a heck of a kick to the system.’

Maggie popped back into the room and glanced at each of them in turn. ‘Oh, good. Ambulance is here. I’ll show them in.’

After twenty minutes and a detailed handover Jessie stood in Reception and watched Luke say goodbye to his patient. A buzz of excitement still thrilled round her body. Excess adrenalin was always hard to shake off. At least, she put it down to the medical emergency and not the view.

Luke had handled everything with a professionalism and calm that had had everyone doing his bidding. And yet she’d never seen a more compassionate and composed doctor. His morning clinic had ended with a bang and he still remained as fresh as if the day had just begun. Still Dr Perfect. How did he manage it?

Unlike her. She ran a hand over her hair and looked round for a mirror. Scarecrow chic now probably.

Alarm bells rang loudly in her head. Since coming back to New Zealand, she’d become more and more concerned about how she looked. What did it matter all of a sudden? Appearances didn’t matter. Work did. Saving lives did. Tyler did.

Of course, it was easy—scratch that, essential—for a woman with scars to believe that. Anything else would be just plain stupid. Or egotistical suicide. And she certainly wasn’t into that.

Luke’s eyebrows rose as he closed the front door and turned to her. ‘Thanks for your help in there. You’re one hell of a doctor.’

Heat shunted up her neck. Yes, she was a good doctor. But it felt great hearing it from a colleague. ‘Ditto. Are you okay?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘I just thought, having Lucy, it must be hard dealing with sick littlies.’ She knew how hard it was and was giving him a let-out to voice it. ‘We don’t just have to suck it up, you know. It can be good to talk about it.’

‘I’m fine. Seriously.’ His back straightened and his shoulders pushed back. If he had any kind of fatherly concerns, he wasn’t going to share them. ‘We handled everything by the book, I’d say.’

And so she left it. There was a faint question in his eye, then a shut-down look like the one in the car. He clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about his life or Lucy or his worries.

She shrugged and changed the subject. ‘Turning into an interesting first day.’

‘You can say that again.’

He stopped in front of her, jotted a note, signed some prescriptions. As he wrote, fluidly and neatly for a doctor, his shoulders relaxed and his features softened. Then he turned to her and smiled. His blue-grey eyes were like burnished steel, sparked with a heat that reached to her belly. ‘I would like to invite you to lunch.’

‘Oh?’ No need for the hackles. The guy was probably married. Although he wore no wedding band. No white mark. No mention of a wife. Good grief, how did she know that?

‘I usually do a quick debrief at the sushi bar on a locum’s first day. But unfortunately I have a load of errands to run. It’s Lucy’s birthday next week and I’m on party duty. Maybe later in the week?’

She breathed out deeply. ‘No worries, I’ll grab a roll and catch up on paperwork. Maybe familiarise myself again with the resus trolley.’

She flashed him a conspiratorial smile. Memorising the colour-coded packs on the resus trolley was a matter of professional pride. Besides, hours out of his presence would be a fine idea. Then perhaps she could work out why she’d made a study of his left ring finger. ‘Hope you get it all sorted.’

‘Petting zoos and bouncy castles? I doubt it. There’s way too much to get my head around. And I thought medical finals were hard.’ He turned. ‘Maybe we can debrief later? After surgery. Five o’clock.’

‘I was hoping to get home …’

But he was gone.

‘Okay, see you later.’ Jess sighed. So, he lived a busy life. Full-time doctor and very hands on dad. Hopefully tonight’s meeting would be quick if he had a family to go home to and a party to arrange.

She looked round the empty reception area and pushed him out of her head. Where to start? Resus trolley? Sushi?

But that made her think of him again.

‘Oh.’ He stuck his head back around the door, making her jump almost out of her skin. ‘Daft idea, but I don’t suppose you know anything about organising parties for a three-year-old? To be honest, I’m flummoxed by it all. I’m told fancy dress is mandatory. Apparently.’

‘Er … no.’ Typical, he’d come back just as she’d been able to breathe normally again and now her breath had been snatched away. She couldn’t remember the last party she’d been to, kid’s or otherwise. Invites weren’t exactly forthcoming when she moved around enough not to forge any meaningful relationships.

She pressed against the reception desk, grateful to lean against something solid. Almost instinctively her palm ran over the hard knobbles and knots of skin over her abdomen. She cradled the emptiness, the place where she’d once felt her baby kick. Now a mess of scarred tissue. A shaft of pain exploded in her stomach. She breathed it away, shook her head. No. No kid’s parties. And no point dwelling on the past.

‘Sorry. No idea. I’m definitely the wrong person to ask.’

‘Ah, well, worth trying.’

Dragging on a smile, she shrugged. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be discussing parties with Lucy’s mum?’

‘Yeah, right.’ His jaw muscles tightened as he turned back towards the corridor. ‘Forget it, I’ll sort it out.’

Brilliant. Deep joy. Talk about putting her two size sevens straight into her big, stupid, careless mouth.

Jessie stared at the computer screen, trying to concentrate on the next patient’s notes. But so many new questions crowded her head. Why wouldn’t Luke talk to Lucy’s mother about organising parties? The only clues she had were the flicker of disdain in his eyes and the clenched cheek muscle; clearly relations between him and the girl’s mother were strained.

‘Excuse me? Jessie?’ Maggie bustled into the room, dragging Jessie away from her reverie. ‘Any chance you can see Kyle Phillips soon? He’s tearing around the waiting room and driving his mum close to tears.’

‘Of course. I was just about to call him in.’

‘I could ask Luke to squeeze him in if you’re too busy.’ Maggie looked pointedly around the empty room, no doubt wondering why on earth they’d employed such a slacker. ‘He usually sees Kyle, but he’s double-booked most of this afternoon. Shame, they’ve just pitched up on the off chance we could fit them in.’

Jessie’s stomach tumbled at the mention of Luke’s name. Traitorous stomach, it was way more interested in him and his business than was good for her.

But her head wasn’t. Michael had sealed her belief that relationships and her couldn’t work. Discovering her husband’s infidelity after her accident, losing her baby and then her marriage, had tattooed a promise onto her heart. Never again.

‘Yes, yes, of course, send Kyle in right away.’ And stop me thinking about Luke and his smile.

Was she thinking about his smile now too? What the hell happened to never again? So he had a cute smile. Perfect teeth. Big deal. Probably paid a zillion dollars in dentistry.

Despite the urgency to get the next patient in, Maggie seemed to prefer talking about her employer. ‘Luke’s always so punctual, his clinics never run late. Don’t know how he manages it, what with little Lucy. She’s a handful. But he has everything organised to work around her routine.’

‘Sounds like he’s a regular miracle worker.’

‘It was a big shock, you know, and such a change for him. He hadn’t a care in the world a few years ago—a big social life, partying.’

‘Partying?’

‘As soon as he had Lucy he put all that behind him. He’s doing so well as a solo parent.’

Aha. Now the fog lifted. ‘Sounds like I’ll be hearing lots more about him over the next few weeks.’ Hopefully like what the heck had happened to Lucy’s mother and how come Luke managed not to have a care in the world when he had a family to provide for?

Jessie looked at the computer clock.

‘I’m five minutes late already.’ She slid her chair back and tried to look like she meant business. ‘I’d better catch up.’

Stacey Phillips shifted in her seat and placed a trembling hand on her three-year-old’s shoulder. ‘For goodness sake, sit still, Kyle, and let the doctor look in your ears.’

‘It’s okay, Mr Wriggle-Bottom, I’ve finished looking now.’ Jessie replaced the auroscope on its charger and smiled at Kyle’s mum. ‘Your instincts were right. Kyle has a slight redness on his eardrum, caused by a viral infection, but it’s nothing serious. Antibiotics won’t be any use because they attack bacteria, not viruses, but paracetamol will help with the pain. Bring him back if things don’t settle down.’ Jessie ruffled the boy’s blond locks, handed him a toy train. ‘Here, Kyle, show Mummy the train while I write in your notes. Choo-choo.’

‘Ahh…. choooooo.’ Kyle sneezed, all over Jessie’s trousers. Great. A snot-coloured sticky patch to match her snot-coloured hair. She bit her lip and held in a smile. Her locum pay had better include laundry bills.

The young mother’s face crumpled, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. ‘I’m so sorry. Really sorry. Kyle, say sorry to the doctor. Naughty boy. Naughty.’

It seemed an extreme reaction to a sneeze. Maybe she was just the anxious type.

‘It’s fine, Stacey. They’ll wash. Worse things happen, believe me. He couldn’t help it.’ Jessie pointed to her shoulder. ‘Sticky patch number one, vomit from a two-year-old. There’s felt tip on my sleeve from an uncoordinated six-year-old. I’ve got four more hours of clinic to get completely covered in gloop. Things are just warming up.’

Stacey seemed appeased by this, but her twitchy demeanour and puffy red face gave Jessie cause for concern. She leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Is there anything else?’

Stacey shook her head, reached for a tissue, wiped her eyes and the boy’s nose. ‘We should go, I suppose, you’re busy.’

But instead of standing up, Stacey stayed where she was, tears refilling her eyes. As she wrung her hands in her lap, her knee jerked up and down apace. ‘Kyle, please for once sit still.’

Ignoring the flashing on her computer announcing that her next client had arrived, Jessie waited. Stacey needed time and space. Phooey to Luke, Patron Saint of Perfectly Run Clinics. Sometimes patients needed extra attention. ‘Are you worried about something, Stacey?’

Stacey’s hand hovered over her mouth as if holding her words in. She bit her lip and looked away. ‘I missed a period.’

‘You think you might be pregnant?’ Jessie lowered her voice to prevent Kyle hearing.

‘Yes. I have sore boobs and I feel sick pretty much all of the time.’ Stacey’s chin quivered. ‘Just like last time.’

‘And you’re not happy about it?’

‘No. My husband’s just left me. I can’t cope with two kiddies on my own.’ She looked over at her three-year-old now sitting on the floor engrossed in The Monster Book of Dragons. ‘I can’t cope with one. I don’t think I want this.’

‘I understand.’ Jessie nodded and a lump wedged under her diaphragm, pressing deep, catching her breath. Dealing with pregnant mums always brought back an echo of the sadness that had lingered in her bones far too long.

It was the small details that had surprised her the most; how, in the pregnancy books, foetal development was measured in terms of fruit. The size of a strawberry, then a lime, then a grapefruit. She used to joke about how she was going to give birth to a fruit salad.

And how being pregnant had been like carrying the happiest secret ever. And that as her belly had swelled so had her heart. Chock full of love for someone she’d never even met.

She squashed the swell of emotions rising in her chest. Now was not the time to remember these things. She would never let her own experiences interfere with her practice. Stacey needed a coherent, competent doctor not a gloomy one.

‘The thing is, I wanted a baby, my husband didn’t.’ Stacey’s lip wobbled. ‘I thought I could convince him, but all we did was argue.’

‘Sometimes life gets hard, Stacey. I know. Truly.’

Stacey ripped a tissue into fragments and let them drop onto her lap like a tiny snowdrift. ‘I can’t have a baby. It’s not the right time. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

‘Whatever happens, you’ll get through this. Trust me.’ It did get easier, she knew that from painful experience. It was amazing what you could survive.

Jessie picked up the tissue scraps and put them in the bin, then took hold of Stacey’s hand. ‘Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. First, I’ll get Maggie to do a pregnancy test.’

‘Oh, no.’ The colour drained from Stacey’s blotchy face. ‘Not Maggie. She’s my husband’s aunt and word spreads so fast here. North Beach is a small town. Small minds make big gossip, my mum used to say. I don’t want him knowing. Not yet. Not until I’ve got my head around it. Please don’t tell anyone.’

‘Of course not, although I will have to write something in your notes. But seeing as this is Kyle’s consult, I can’t think why anyone would need to look at your information. Rest assured, Stacey, I’m here to help. And I won’t tell a soul.’

Luke regarded the view of the swamp pixie’s taut derrière as she stretched to the back of the drug cupboard, and tried to ignore the fizz of heat in his abdomen.

What the heck was going on with his body these days?

He almost groaned in frustration. Weird. He couldn’t remember his hormones ever being this out of sync with his brain.

He battled against this unfamiliar surge of lust. Yes, she was hot. But there were plenty of hot women around.

It felt like over the last two years every emotion had been caught in a weird freeze-frame and now someone—Jessie—had flicked a switch on his awareness scale. And it had spiked.

Inconvenient. And temporary, he’d make sure of that. Dragging back the memory of her odd behaviour that morning, he attempted to activate his ‘off’ switch. As he glanced at her butt again the switch refused to budge.

Damned irritating. All his knowledge of Jessie so far suggested she was a typical, selfish drifter type. Just like Chloe. Endlessly appealing and ethereal. Promising everything and giving nothing. Oh, except a baby to look after.

Professional courtesy deemed he remove his eyes from Jessie’s backside and make polite conversation. ‘How’s it going? Got over this morning’s drama?’

Jessie twisted and peered up at him. The tight corkscrew hair had softened and tendrils framed her face, giving an almost angelic impression. Apart from an odd milky smudge on her shoulder and a large stain on her knee. And the far from angelic stare.

The pulse at her slender throat beat a rapid tattoo and it took a mammoth effort not to place his hand on it, count the beats, touch her skin. But he managed it.

An eyebrow rose as she spoke. ‘Um. What? Sorry?’

‘Ah, nothing. Forget it.’

‘Forgotten already.’ She turned her back to the cupboard and fumbled in her pocket. Then quickly walked away. Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks red?

He watched Jessie’s quickened pace down the corridor. Her delicate way-too-grown-up blouse pulled across a taut ridge of shoulder muscle, and her clenched fists, the jerky movement of her hand to her pocket all sounded alarm bells in his head.

She didn’t look flustered, she looked hunted. He’d seen that look on a woman’s face before—when he’d discovered Chloe’s one-way plane ticket out of North Beach. Her get-out-of-jail-free card, she’d called it. Free? He’d unwittingly footed the bill when she’d borrowed his credit card.

Still, hunted was not at all how he expected a locum to act. Something in her manner didn’t add up. ‘Did you find what you were looking for, Jess?’

She slowed, but didn’t stop. Her hand curled next to her trouser pocket. ‘It’s Jessie. Or Jessica. No one calls me Jess. I don’t like it. I’m. Fine.’

‘You sure?’

Swivelling on her heel, she pierced him with dark blue eyes, the flush of her cheeks now a rash down her neck. A frown etched deep across her forehead. ‘Luke, I’m busy.’

He glanced at her slim fingers as they stole into her pocket. She was hiding something. His pulse jittered.

Keep calm. It may just be nothing. ‘You’ve just seen Kyle Phillips, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Everything okay? Didn’t need anything for him?’

‘No.’ She threw him a tight smile and tapped her watch. ‘Got to go. Don’t want to upset the time police.’

As she turned she stumbled against the wall. ‘Stupid heels.’

A packet fell from her pocket to the floor as she edged down the corridor.

‘Hey, you dropped something.’

‘Oh.’ It was more a sigh than a word. She bent to the floor at the same time as he did.

His hand covered the packet.

Her hand covered his and her heat infused his skin. His gaze shot to her face. Wide blue eyes stared up at him. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip.

She shook her head, a tiny movement that shouted, Don’t ask.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Words lost their way from his brain to his mouth.

God, she was lovely. An ache stole into his stomach. His heart pounded. His lips dried.

Whatever the heck she’d been doing, whatever she’d been hiding, he didn’t care.

Suddenly he wanted to feel the bow of her lips against his, press against her curves, let her body tell him the answers to all those questions zinging around his head.

What? Kiss her? Here? In full view of his staff?

Since when did lust place before trust?

Lust. For God’s sake, where did this sudden weakness come from? Women like Jessie were poison, and he sure as hell wasn’t tempted to have a shot.

Plus, he was in the middle of the double-booked clinic from hell, with no time to analyse this self-destructive reaction to a locum. He just needed to gain some self-control.

‘I’ve got it.’ He snatched his hand from under hers, dragging his gaze away from those captivating eyes, and unfurled the packet from his fist. ‘There you are. Oh, a pregnancy test. Is that all?’

Even the tops of her ears were red as she grabbed the packet and straightened her blouse down over her hips. ‘Thanks.’

‘All this fuss over nothing.’ He blew out a long breath. He had totally misread the situation. Letting memories of Chloe get in the way of a decent working relationship. ‘Maggie usually sorts the tests out, I’ll give her a shout. Tell the patient to wait in the nurses’ area.’

‘It’s…. No. I can handle it.’ Her eyes flicked towards the bathroom. ‘I’ll do it myself.’

Luke’s stomach plummeted a thousand feet.

Fool.

Three-year-old Kyle Phillips certainly didn’t need a pregnancy test. Jessie’s next patient was Frank Carrington, so unless the IVF schedule had been extended to eighty-year-old kumara farmers, the pregnancy test must be hers.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

Head cocked to one side, her mouth slanted then curved into an O shape. She waved the packet in the air.

‘You thought this was for me?’

Her eyes darkened as she, almost subconsciously, it seemed, ran a hand across her belly. He’d seen her do that a few times—in the car, when she’d first seen Lucy and again now. Unusual. Some kind of nervous reflexive reaction. Like nail biting or toe tapping.

A bitter-sweet laugh erupted from her lips as she walked back into her consulting room. ‘I don’t think so, Luke. Now, I really do have to get on.’

‘Of course.’ He stared at the space she’d left and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shaken by his visceral reaction to her. Boy, oh, boy, he’d need therapy by the time this woman had finished her three-week stint.

Once he’d have tried to work her out, enjoyed the thrill of the chase, just for the hell of it. But things had got complicated and he’d been badly burnt.

Jessie’s private life was none of his business, and it would stay exactly like that until she left.

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