Every Boy's Dream Dad

In the little office off to the side of the ward Rachel listened while Manea explained her patient’s symptoms. ‘Kiriana is having her first baby at age thirty-five, which is very late for an islander. She’s been on the internet reading up about everything that can go wrong. And now she wants a whole battery of tests done that I can’t provide.’

‘This is when I dislike the net intensely. All it achieves is to cause more worry than a pregnant woman should have.’ Rachel read Kiriana’s notes. ‘Everything seems perfectly normal. No anaemia, no hepatitis, blood pressure’s good.’

‘Could you examine her?’ Manea asked. ‘It might settle her down to have a doctor taking her fears seriously. I’m the girl who grew up next door. Not likely to be totally convincing when it comes to persuading her everything’s going well.’

‘Can you arrange an appointment for her? Might as well see her as soon as possible. She hasn’t mentioned amniocentesis?’

‘Down’s syndrome is top of her list for things that can go wrong.’

‘It would be.’ Rachel sighed. People put themselves through untold worry at times. ‘I’ll see her as soon as she can come in.’

They went on to discuss all Manea’s patients but the midwife had no other concerns. ‘Hopefully I won’t be bothering you too often,’ she said as she put the patient notes away in a filing cabinet. ‘But I’m thrilled to have an obstetrician to be able to call on if necessary. I bet the GPs are pleased too.’

‘I haven’t met them yet. I’ll drop into the medical centre some time over the next few days to make myself known.’

Colleen piped up. ‘All sorted. You’re to go on Thursday afternoon.’

Rachel started. ‘Thanks for that.’

Colleen glanced at her watch. ‘Right now you’ve got a patient waiting to see you.’

‘Already?’ They certainly weren’t giving her time to settle in.

‘It’s a straightforward consult. One of the bosses at the airline’s office wants to meet you just in case anything goes wrong with her pregnancy. She’s flying home to Auckland next month, four weeks before her baby is due, but is playing it safe.’ Colleen smiled cautiously. ‘I think you’ll get a lot of that—playing safe. Especially with the Kiwis.’

‘That’s fine. Understandable, I suppose, if they’re used to big, modern hospitals.’ Rachel shrugged away her disappointment. She liked to see a pregnancy through to the end, not be a stopgap measure. But who could blame women who wanted to go home to be with family and friends when they were having a baby?

The day of Riley’s birth was still vivid in her mind. She’d been in awe of the tiny bundle the midwife had handed her. And the stunned expression on Jamie’s face and the unqualified love in his eyes as he’d met his son for the very first time had taken her breath away. There’d been a steady stream of friends and colleagues visiting her and Riley while she’d remained in hospital. And Jamie had hardly left her side until he’d been able to take them home.

So why had Jamie gone and got himself shot? What had possessed him to do something so stupid he’d deprived Riley of his father?

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. Nearly two years later and she still couldn’t fathom Jamie’s actions that day. She was still angry and hurt. Pulling herself together for the people who needed her to be strong, she blindly followed Colleen down the corridor. Bring on the work, the patients, the mind-diverting everyday things that would get her past these moments.

The work would settle her, help ease the pain of the past and, just maybe, make the future a little more appealing than it had been since Jamie’s murder.

CHAPTER THREE

RACHEL saw her patient out and turned back to her office. After only a few days she felt completely at home in this small hospital.

‘Doc, how’s your morning been?’ Ben’s voice reached her from across the hall, caressed her skin, turning the humid heat to a dry sizzle.

She whipped around, hoping he put her red cheeks down to her not being used to working in temperatures in the high twenties. ‘Ben. What are you doing here? I thought you were on duty today.’

‘I’ve brought someone in for urgent medical attention.’ His gaze cruised over her face, down her neck and on down her body as he lounged against the wall.

The sizzle became sparks. Forget high twenties, try high thirties. The air-conditioning was next to useless so earlier she’d thrown open all the windows, but right now she was overcooking.

His gaze had stuck on her legs. She shouldn’t have worn a short skirt to work but most of her clothes were not suitable for this climate. The skirt should’ve been cool but she might as well be wearing woollen trousers for all the good it did. Ben had an unprecedented effect on her. A lingering glance from him and she had all the backbone of one of those jellyfish purported to be beyond the reef. What would it be like to succumb to that provocative sensuality glittering out at her?

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Whatever the answer, she was not about to find out. Concentrate. And not on what he seemed to be thinking either. ‘What’s the problem with the patient?’

‘He’s got too much spare time on his hands.’

‘What’s wrong medically?’

Ben grimaced. ‘He fell while climbing out of his truck outside the police station, knocked himself unconscious on the kerb. He had a fit and nearly swallowed his tongue but we managed to prevent that.’

‘We?’

‘Okay, me.’ Ben shrugged.

‘He’s a very lucky man.’ Lucky Ben knew what to do in the circumstances. Another example of his competence around injured folk. Had he done a first-aid course? Probably a prerequisite to being a policeman here. ‘What about the head wound? Is he going to be all right?’

‘Lissie’s with him. He’s got a hard head.’

Rachel raised her eyebrows. Surely he was joking? A tiny glint twinkled back at her from those intense black eyes. So he was teasing. Who’d have believed it? The man had a fun side after all.

‘Glad to hear he’ll be all right.’ She paused. ‘While you’re here, are you sure you’re happy with me giving Effie some extra work?’ Why had she asked? To make polite conversation? Not likely. Shock rippled through her. She was trying to delay him, keep him talking to her. It didn’t matter what about; she just wanted to watch the lines of his face when he spoke. He had a strong face that softened when he thought no one was looking. His mouth could be grim, as it had been when he’d delivered Effie to her, but it could also lift into the most stomach-crunching, heart-melting smile that made her think of the sun coming out behind the grey snow clouds on an English winter’s day.

‘No problem. Got time for a coffee?’ he muttered, then looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Regretting his invitation already? ‘Yes, I do, as it happens.’ Clinic didn’t start for another twenty minutes.

‘Oh, right.’

‘Where do we go? I haven’t found out what’s available here. Colleen always appears with coffee just as I start to feel in need of caffeine.’ A mischievous impulse made her step in front of him and look up into his eyes. The mischief faded as those eyes widened and something like desire danced through them. The emotion she could read in Ben’s face was rolling through her own body at the steady, unrelenting pace of a juggernaut. Intense, persistent and so exciting. As though Ben had flicked on a hundred switches all over her body and flooded her with such warmth that she was melting.

And he hadn’t even touched her, not with so much as one fingertip.

This need hit her hard. It had been a long time since she’d wanted a man. A long time since she’d last made love. To Jamie. A cooling breeze brushed over her skin. Or was it a dose of reality? Jamie. Her one true love. The man she’d thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with, having more children with. A shiver shimmied up her spine and she rubbed her hands down her arms, felt the goose-bumps under her palms. Lusting after Ben was a mistake; following up on it would be disastrous. She took a backward step, away from Ben, away from temptation.

Ben’s gaze darkened. Not used to being walked away from? They were in for some difficult times if they didn’t get this sorted and the attraction put in perspective before it erupted into something neither of them could control.

Rachel drew a shaky breath, steeled her shoulders, and said, ‘Come to think of it, I should probably go over to the clinic early.’

‘Right.’ His eyes bored into her. Was he sorry? Relieved? Who would know? He wasn’t exactly a bag of information, didn’t seem to see the need to let people in on his feelings.

‘Ben, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot. I really don’t want to get involved with anyone, whether for one night or a month. I’m still coming to terms with losing my husband. It’s like I’m riding a roller-coaster. One day I think I’m moving on, getting a new life; the next it’s as though I’m still back at that first day, hearing the chief constable telling me Jamie wouldn’t be coming home ever again. It’s been hard. I still miss him.’

She stopped. What on earth was she doing, telling him all this? He didn’t need to know. A simple ‘No, thank you’ to that desire lurking in his eyes would’ve been enough. But she wanted him so badly it hurt. She yearned to be held by those strong arms, to be taken away on a wave of passion so wild that she forgot everything for a short while. She stared up at the man who’d unlocked this need in her. ‘I’m sorry.’

Now he did touch her. A gentle trace down her cheek with his forefinger. ‘Don’t be. I understand.’

Really? ‘Thanks.’

‘My wife died nearly three years ago.’ Pain bleached his suntanned cheeks, cracked his voice, shook the finger on her cheek. ‘I miss her every minute of every day.’

Then he was gone. Striding down the corridor as though the devil was after him, sending him on his way—away from her. Leaving her to contemplate the coincidence that they’d both lost a spouse. He really did understand her mixed-up emotions.

Ben slammed the truck door shut, snapped the ignition key on, and clanged the shift into forward drive.

Then hesitated. Rachel reminded him of things he’d banned from his life for ever. Essential things like caring for someone special, like sharing day-to-day occurrences such as buying the milk, cleaning the kitchen bench after having a meal together.

His head banged back against the headrest. He had told her about Catrina. He never talked about his late wife. To anyone. Not to his friends. Not to his family. No one. Yet he’d blurted it out to the doc whom he’d known less than a week. The shock in her eyes had woken him up from that desire-induced state he’d slipped into. Desire had crept through him without thought, without any hindrance on his part, igniting a deep need he hadn’t known he had. A need to love again, to be loved again. How had this happened? All he’d done was ask her if she wanted a coffee.

All he’d done?

When was the last time he’d asked a woman out for a coffee?

You invited Catrina to join you at that café down on the wharf in Wellington. You’d been watching her feeding the pigeons and fallen in love with her there and then. You walked right up to her, introduced yourself and offered to buy her a cappuccino. Yes, she’d said so fast you’d had to check you’d heard her correctly. She’d grinned. And the rest was history.

Except it had been a short history. Catrina’s life had been cut off when she’d overshot the motorway off-ramp, made an abrupt turn at speed and lost control of the car. Life was cruel. While he hadn’t got much more than a scratch, Catrina’s ribcage had been crushed by the steering wheel. Flail chest. Every time she’d breathed those broken ribs had torn at her lungs.

All his medical training had been for nothing that night. The best he’d been able to do had been to hold Catrina’s hand and talk to her as they waited for the paramedics—who were never going to be able to save her. He hadn’t been able to save her life, or even dull her pain. He’d been useless. Devastated as he’d watched the life leave his beautiful, vibrant Catrina. Furious that he’d felt relief when she could no longer feel the excruciating pain.

Ben gasped a lungful of humid air. He eased his foot onto the accelerator and drove carefully down the narrow lane out to the main route into town. His hands were shaking. Sweat beaded on his brow. He hadn’t consciously thought about that night in months. He didn’t go there any more than necessary. It hurt too much. That night had been the end of one life and the start of another less involved one that had brought him here, away from family and friends. His wife was squeezed into a tight, locked cell in his heart, only to be taken out when he got so desperate for her laughter, her wisdom, her chatter that he couldn’t ignore it. And every time he did that he sank into a black hole that took a binge session at the pub to blot out the pain.

So why had he lifted the lid on all that now? Why with Rachel Simmonds? The doc. Something about her had touched him in a place he’d long believed dried up and dead. It wasn’t sex. Oh, he wanted that as well. No doubt about it. But that wasn’t what was going on here. So what was? He didn’t have an answer.

You don’t want an answer. You’re too afraid of where it will take you.

The truck surged forward as Ben’s foot pressed the accelerator. His shoulders bit into the seat behind him. Whoa, slow down, man.

Slow down on everything. Especially slow down on being friendly with your new neighbour.

Take every day one moment at a time. Stay as far away from her as you possibly can. Give her time to settle in. Get to know her slowly. Why? Because then you’ll have got past this wish to make love to her, to look out for her, to show her how things work in island life, and then you’ll be able to have a normal, friendly, neighbourly relationship with her.

Ben grunted. One day at a time? Sure. He could do that. If he was blind and deaf. If his peanut brain returned to normal.

Rachel flopped down on the towel she’d spread over the sand. Splashing around in the sea was the perfect way to finish a day after work. Not that work had been strenuous, far from it. Everyone she met, staff and patients, were very friendly. She might find her enjoyment from the job again if this kept up. But from her life? That was expecting too much.

The sound of clapping came from further down the beach where a wedding was taking place. The bride looked gorgeous in her cream-and-gold dress as her new husband kissed her. Her attendants wore gold, strapless gowns, while the men were dressed in open-necked cream shirts, tan trousers and bare feet. Rachel grinned. Back home no one would believe her when she told them. Bare feet at a wedding? Practical in the sand and a fun element in the photos. The clear sky and blue waters of the lagoon made a perfect setting for the ceremony. No wonder so many Kiwis came over here to get married.

‘Mummy, look at me jumping the waves,’ Riley called from the water’s edge where tiny wavelets lapped.

‘Watch out for sharp rocks,’ she called back. A cut on his foot could take some time to heal in this moist heat.

‘He loves the beach.’ Ben hunkered down on his haunches beside her.

She swallowed. With the effect Ben had on her she should’ve sensed him coming. It had taken time and a patient in labour for her to get past his startling revelation that morning. Then there was the way her body had reacted to him. That had taken longer to get over, and by the tingling in her fingertips and in her tummy now she hadn’t been very successful.

But she did understand some of Ben’s reticence when it came to opening up and talking. Which only made what he’d told her even more surprising. Why had he told her? Was it because she’d been so open about her feelings surrounding Jamie’s death? Well, there were a few things she hadn’t mentioned and had no intention of telling him any time in the near future. Things best kept to herself.

‘Can he swim?’ Ben’s gaze was firmly fixed on Riley.

‘No. Last weekend was the first time he’d been to a beach.’

‘I’ll teach him.’

‘What?’ Ben offering to show Riley how to swim would mean several visits to the beach, would mean he’d be spending more time with them.

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