Waking Up With His Runaway Bride

Check that. No finger running. ‘Anything else is considered just plain girly. They’re stoic blokes and think being sick is a weakness.’

‘What about just before a game? Tried a clinic then?’

‘On a Saturday night?’ Okay, he had a point. The pub was always heaving at that time. But she wasn’t going to admit that. ‘Preventive medicine like that is a pipe dream. I tell you, the only way to get these men to see a doctor is if their head’s falling off or their heart’s given out.’ Remembering the four that had just pitched up to her surgery, she smiled, smugly. Case in point. ‘Or if there’s a drama. By the way, what happened to Boy? Have you finished with him already?’

‘Yep, but X-ray facilities would help.’

‘I agree. But two years ago there wasn’t even a clinic here, until I set this one up. Facilities take funding when you live in the real world.’ He never had—and that had been part of their problem. He still didn’t get it. She sighed. ‘Get your daddy to wave his magic wand. While he’s at it I’d like an MRI scanner, a decent coffee shop and lots and lots of shoes. In the meantime, we’ll make do with what we’ve got. Anything that needs more investigation goes into the city.’

‘An hour and a half’s drive away. No fun if you’re in pain.’ He shrugged, obviously choosing to ignore her barbed comment. Again. She bristled at his self-control. Maybe he wasn’t as riled by her as he used to be. That was good. Wasn’t it? She didn’t want to have any effect on him at all. Except a positive impression for the fund assessment. Really. Honestly. Then she could move on with her life, without giving a backward glance to Connor Wiseman.

‘Luckily for Boy, his finger wasn’t broken. I’m pretty sure it’s just a bad sprain so I’ve buddy-strapped it. Told him to come back in a couple of days so we can double-check.’ Having replenished the dressing trolley, Connor cracked his knuckles as he stretched his arms out in front of him. ‘Man, that felt good. It’s been a while since I did hands-on.’

‘I let you loose on my patients when you’re out of practice?’ She glowered at him. Had she allowed him to bulldoze her into something she had doubts about again? One word from him and she was almost rolling over, asking him to scruff her tummy. When would she learn? She would not let him badger her into anything any more. ‘Please tell me you have a valid practising certificate.’

‘Of course. Simmer down.’ He laughed. ‘And I thought we’d agreed to be civil. Don’t worry, I do a few hours consulting a month to keep my hand in.’

‘But why bother do all those years at med school just for a few hours a month? The internships? The GP training? What a waste.’

‘Why? I know my way around a clinic. I’ve lived and breathed medical practice.’ For the first time since his arrival he looked uncomfortable. His lips formed a tight line and a frown sat edgily over his eyes. ‘But systems management is important too. Someone needs to make sure everyone’s reached a certain standard.’

He closed his eyes briefly and Mim noticed his fist clenched against the desk. He looked like he was trying to gain control. And unbelievably sad.

‘Connor?’ Her heart stammered as she bit her lip. ‘Are you okay?’

When he opened his eyes again they resonated a steel calm. Devoid of any kind of emotion. ‘You have your demons, Mim, I have mine. And we’re both trying to work the system to fit them.’

Demons? His sister perhaps. Who knew? No point in asking. Clamming up was Connor’s forte. She’d never managed to break through that hard exterior before.

But they needed to get on to move on. She touched his fingers in a meek attempt at a handshake. ‘So how about we start over? Let’s go for civil. Who knows? We might even like it.’

Connor inhaled sharply. Mim had always been right about one thing: moving forward was the only way to go. He couldn’t change what had happened to Janey. Or that Mim had thrashed his heart. He just had to make sure that nothing like either tragedy ever happened again.

She looked up at him through thick lashes, held his gaze, her lips parted slightly. Her pale complexion was punctuated with two red circles of anger, the passion for her work flaring deeply in dark irises. Her belief and pride in her good intentions was clear in the way she held that pert body erect and taut.

As if answering her clarion call, his blood stirred in a sudden wild frenzy.

He let her hand drop and forced himself to remember all the reasons their affair had failed before. Passion and lust had never been a problem. But their clash of backgrounds and vision of their futures had pulled them in opposing directions. Walking away had been her chosen option. Three years had made no difference to her naive idealism. But this time he could do the walking.

Connor eased out the irritation rippling through his shoulders. He’d work this on his terms. Keep a professional distance.

‘Okay. Let’s start again. Hi. I’m Dr Connor Wiseman, here to assess your practice.’

‘How-de-do, Dr Wiseman. I’m Mim. Welcome to beautiful Atanga Bay, where we have sunshine and smiles in abundance. Oh, and the odd bush fire … but only once in a blue moon.’ The corner of her lips tweaked upwards as she folded her arms over her tiny frame. She was extremes and opposites. Combative and defensive. And yet he knew she enjoyed a good spat as much as he did. No one had ever riled him so much, hit the spot every time. And got a rise out of him. Figuratively and, very often, literally. Their fights had been legendary, but their make-up sex had been stellar.

He sneaked another glance down her body. She was thinner, sure, but there were still curves there, hidden under her shapeless jumper. She was every bit the woman he remembered. And then some.

And he had to endure being with her for the next three months. More if he kept being delayed by fires and regular cat fights. But he refused to be baited by her. Had to remain controlled and calm. And focused. ‘So, give me a clue. How to write notes in a computer that refuses to start?’

She picked up a pen from the desk and waved it at him, her intensity and passion transformed now to a flutter of lightness. ‘Can’t function without your gadgetry? Try using a pen.’

‘You are joking? This is twenty-first-century New Zealand, not the Pickwick Papers.’

‘If we’re busy, or the computer’s playing up, like today, I write them down on cards, and type them up later. They’re always up to date by the end of the day.’ She cringed, and had the decency to look apologetic. ‘But you’re right, the computers do need updating. I’m looking into buying wireless laptops. Chicken and egg thing—I need the money to buy computers, need the computers to get the money. But it’s high on my priority list. Is that something you can put a big tick next to?’

‘Sure. When you get them you’ll have a tick. Not before.’

Then he walked back to Reception, torn between helping her patients and completing his brief. In the end, professional compassion won out over fiscal duty. But as he directed his next patient into Treatment Room Two, he swallowed his frustration. The day he walked away from Mim and Atanga Bay couldn’t come soon enough.

CHAPTER THREE

THE sound of more sirens had Connor striding to the surgery door. Again.

He should be used to it by now—after three hours the shrieking wails had become a regular distraction.

He watched as a fire-service helicopter hovered in the distance out over the sea. A dangling monsoon bucket scooped its gallons then was swung off in the direction of the fire. Smoke billowed from the bush in the distance, an acrid burning smell filled the air and tiny fragments of ash periodically fluttered onto him like confetti.

Further up the road a steady stream of camper vans and overloaded cars zoomed towards him as the campsite decamped into Atanga Bay.

Mim joined him on the step outside and wrapped her arms around her chest. Worry and concern tightened her fragile features. She jerked her head in the direction of the fire. ‘What d’you reckon? Does it seem to be coming under control?’

‘Don’t know. Does this happen a lot out here?’

‘No. First time. Normally it’s a peaceful seaside community.’ She smiled. ‘Sure, we have fire bans in the summer, who doesn’t? But gas explosions on construction sites can happen anywhere. Why? Worried about your papers catching fire?’

‘I was more concerned that you lived in a dangerous place.’ The surprise on her face told him he’d said too much. But he wouldn’t sleep at night if he thought she was at risk. Just a guy’s natural protective instinct kicking in. Right? ‘How far away is Two Rivers?’

‘Five kilometres or so.’ Another rural fire service truck sped by.

Duty tugged at him. This tiny community was at risk, and he couldn’t sit idly by and watch the emergency services rattle past. ‘It’s on the main road, right? Far end of the peninsula?’

‘You’re not thinking of going to help?’

He dragged his car keys from his pocket and pointed them at his car parked at the kerb out front. ‘We have an empty surgery. I can’t just hang around. I’ve got to do something.’

‘No. It’s better if they bring the injured here out of the fire zone. They’ll let us know when to evacuate if we need to. In the meantime, we wait.’ She shook her head and put her hand on his chest. Her smile was the same one she’d given to that hulk, Tony. Conciliatory. Close. So tempting. So bad for him.

‘You’ll like this, Connor, this is our protocol. We managed to work it out all by ourselves, me and the fire chief. It’s going to kill me to say it, but I need you to stay here with me.’

He forced a smile. ‘Honey, if I thought you meant that I’d give it a second’s thought.’

The pads of her fingertips pressed into his skin and heat from her touch spread across his torso like a fast incoming tide. A sudden need to kiss that smug smile away overwhelmed him.

He edged back from her palm, put air between them. It had been three years since Mim had dictated terms, and he wouldn’t slip back into that after a few hours. He wouldn’t let her stop him doing something he believed in. ‘Great that you have a system for you to work with, but I’m going.’

‘So it’s just your own protocols you like to follow? Forget anyone else’s?’ Her hands slid to her hips as her jaw jutted towards him. Her body hummed with muted frustration, almost tangible. Her eyes sparked fury, melting fudge and fireworks. Full lips pouted under sheer lipgloss. Damn it, if his body didn’t stir at her reaction. ‘These are the rules, Connor. Stay here where it’s safe.’

‘Your rules, your problem. If you have to sit here and bide your time, that’s fine by me. But I’m going to do something.’ Then he jumped into his car and gunned the engine. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Out of arm’s reach. And while he was up at the development he’d ask the fire guys to douse him with cold water too.

Mim rapped hard on the car window. Stupid, rash, insane. ‘Wait.’

The tinted glass gave way to his mock impatient face. ‘I’m going. Don’t argue.’

She laughed despite herself. ‘And I’m coming with you. Skye can manage in the surgery for a couple of hours. The action plan is up and running. There’s nothing to say I can’t help a dumb doctor with a death wish.’

‘Maybe you should write that in the plan for next time.’ A flicker of something she couldn’t quite place flashed across his face. Excitement? Confusion. Yes, probably confusion. He rolled his eyes and tutted. ‘You can’t trust anyone to stick to protocols these days. I’m going to have to have a word.’

‘Haven’t you heard, Connor? Rules are made for breaking.’

And she was doing just that, God help her, trashing her own hard and fast rules. There was a danger to getting into cars with strange men.

Connor mightn’t be a stranger. But he was dangerous.

And seemed hell bent on helping her friends so, heck, she had to go with him. She swallowed hard, for some reason seeing him so fired up had her dry-mouthed and aching to touch him. ‘There are houses up there near the fire. Might be some casualties. You’ll need some help.’

‘I think I’ll be fine.’ He leaned closer and grazed her cheek with his breath. ‘I know exactly what to do when things get hot.’

No. Five hours. That’s all it had taken for the innuendo to start. Resisting his cheek was too hard. Next thing they’d know, it’d be hot talk, hot kisses, then hot sex. Then … making and breaking promises again.

Taking her time to calm down her flushed reaction to his words, she walked round to the passenger side. Then hopped into the leather seat, brushed her palm along the curve of the cherrywood dash. ‘Gosh, there’s a year’s worth of my clinic’s operating expenses just in this car.’

‘Top of the range.’ His chin tilted in pride. ‘You could have had fancy cars, you know. And more … lots more, Mim.’

She chose not to dignify his comment with a reply. He obviously still didn’t understand why she left him. Her need to be in control of her own life. Why she didn’t believe in the picket-fence dream. Not for herself anyway. Those childish dreams had faded as she’d watched her mother slide from one crappy relationship to another lost in her search for her next fix of love. And dope. But she never got her fill, and died trying.

No, she managed her own life. She would never let need and dependency rule her heart. After all, that was why she’d walked away from Connor in the first place.

At the entrance to the campsite they were met by a police officer and Tony, who indicated for them to go back to town.

Connor braked with no intention of turning round. ‘Great, a welcoming committee. I’ve driven straight into Deliverance.’

Punching the electric window button, he nodded out to them, scanning for stetsons and firearms. Luckily neither was obvious. ‘Need any help?’

‘I’ll handle this.’ Tony held his palm up to the police officer and swaggered towards the car, his chest puffed out. He nodded towards Mim in a brief salutation, then back to Connor. The look on his face was ill-disguised distaste. ‘Fire Chief’s downgraded the threat. They’ve contained the fire at the edge of the development. No need for you, Doc. Thought you’d play hero?’

‘Thought you might need one. Shouldn’t you be taking it easy after the explosion?’

‘No.’

Beside him Mim bristled. She leaned forward and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘Let me talk to him.’

‘No.’ That fast incoming tide washed over him again. He pulled away before he drowned. ‘Give me a chance.’

Hauling in a breath of smoke-tinged air, Connor slammed down his irritation. He was on their territory, he understood that, understood Tony’s need to protect, his alpha rivalry. And his distrust of an outsider, ill-dressed to help. But that wasn’t going to stop him. Step back and bad things happened. ‘I don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes. But I wondered if there’s anything I could do to help?’

‘Sure. Go back to Atanga Bay. The road’s blocked from here up. No traffic allowed. No one. Not Mim. Not you. Orders.’

‘Has everywhere been evacuated? Anyone injured? Anyone need help up there?’ He knew Tony would never allow himself to be told what to do, but a few questions wouldn’t go amiss. ‘I only want to do the right thing here. And I have skills you could use.’

The police officer stepped forward and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. ‘Listen, mate, maybe they could help with Steph? Get her down to town? Out of harm’s way, eh? We’re still on standby. The wind direction could change and the fire could sweep back around here.’

Tony looked at the officer, his hard face unreadable. But eventually he nodded. ‘Stubborn old boot. She’s refusing to leave.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she can. Maybe Mim can talk sense into her.’

Mim blanched. She looked uncertain as she spoke, like she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. ‘I’ll give it a go, but she probably won’t take any notice of me either.’

Connor got the sense that there was some kind of history between the two women. But he couldn’t focus on that. He had a potential emergency to deal with. History would have to wait.

They walked up the steep hill to the leafy campsite.

Trailing a thick black hosepipe, a heavily pregnant woman in a floaty dress and gumboots walked round the outside of the neat welcoming office. Her breath was ragged and her cheeks puce. She raised her eyebrows at the entourage advancing towards her. ‘Mim. Tony. Bruce. I’ve told you, I’m not going anywhere. Stop badgering.’

Making a quick assessment of the situation, Connor stepped forward and held out his hand. ‘Hey, Steph. I’m Connor, a doctor friend of Mim’s. In town for a few days.’ He watched recognition register. But he chose not to look at Mim. Friend? Not likely.

‘Hi.’ Steph wrapped her large hot hand into his, shook briefly and eyed him suspiciously. Her palms were sweaty, perspiration dripped from her forehead. Two bright red spots shone from her cheeks. She looked bewildered and breathless and not pleased to see him. He’d have put money on a threatening pre-eclampsia. And on her refusing to do anything about it.

He feigned vague disinterest rather than acknowledge the growing urgency. Didn’t want to spook or stress her further. ‘This your place?’

‘Sure.’ She dug the heel of her palm into her flank and winced. ‘What of it?’

‘Nice. You obviously look after it well. Lucky escape. You must have been worried.’

‘All good. Just doing my job.’ Her shoulders straightened. Then she waved the thick hose at him. He had to admire her strength and capability in her condition. ‘I’ve finished damping down the outside. Managed to get all the punters out, though.’

‘Who knows if it’ll sweep down here? Nasty business, fires.’ Connor looked down at her swollen belly. ‘How long to go?’

‘Six weeks. Kicking like a good ‘un.’ She ran a hand across the small of her back and through the thin fabric he saw tight ripples across her belly. He needed to measure her blood pressure. Check her ankles for swelling, her urine for protein. Feel the babe’s position. ‘Little blighter’s going to be the best first five the All Blacks ever had.’

Tony checked his watch. Connor took it as a signal to hurry. For once they were in agreement on something. ‘Braxton-Hicks?’

‘Yeah. Catches your breath sometimes.’ Doubling over, she grabbed her stomach.

Mim closed the gap and took the woman’s arm. ‘You okay? You need a hand? You really should get out of the danger zone.’

‘I said I’m not leaving here.’ Steph straightened. ‘Not if you ask me, Mim McCarthy. Nor any of them.’

Connor watched hurt flash across Mim’s eyes. Was that the kind of response she generally got? Was Steph’s mistrust directed at Mim or at them all? Hard to tell.

But if Mim was up against this kind of antagonism she’d need a lot more than a positive Matrix assessment to build her practice. He knew more than anyone else that once Mim put her mind to something she achieved it. But she’d need support. Belief. Faith in her abilities. A chance.

And he wasn’t the guy for that job. Was he?

No. He was here to help Steph, do the assessment, then leave. Easy.

He stepped forward. ‘You did your job well, Steph. Now let me do mine. I can see you’re uncomfortable. How about Mim and I take you down to town and check you over?’

‘I heard about a bush fire once where they evacuated the town and it was wrecked by looters. I can’t afford for anyone to nick my stuff.’

So it wasn’t about Mim after all. But the idea of supporting her lingered—rather more than he wanted it to. For an ex-girlfriend who had dumped him she was lingering in his head too long altogether.

‘I can’t afford for you to put yourself and your baby at risk.’ He regarded Steph’s puffy fingers and breathlessness. She winced again and he fought back a need to carry her out of the bush himself.

He didn’t have local knowledge or mana, the respect from Atanga Bay residents. But he had one thing he could use as leverage. One thing most women wouldn’t turn down. ‘I’ve got a de luxe room booked at the pub in town. King-size bed. Fresh linen. It’s yours for the night if you want. Have a rest, bubble bath. Take a load off. Tony can stay here and look after the place for you. Can’t you, Tony?’

He glanced at his audience. Mim’s eyes popped. The foreman’s face was agape with anger as he spat out, ‘I have other things to—’

‘Fresh linen? Room service?’ That suspicion bit deeper but Steph chewed her lip. Tempted.

Mim’s huge eyes got larger, her mouth opened and her tongue tip ran round her lips. She looked entranced and shocked.

But impressed. God forgive him, but impressing Mim sure felt good.

Which was downright absurd when he thought about it. She’d made her feelings very clear all those years ago, and again now. So he tried to convince himself he was offering this to a sick woman out of the goodness of his heart. ‘Okay. Yes, room service.’ He turned to Mim. ‘Are all you country women so difficult to please?’

‘You betcha, city boy.’

Then he focused back on Steph. ‘If you promise we can check you over. Make sure that smoke’s not got into your lungs, what d’you say?’

‘Okay, I suppose. Just one night.’ She smiled towards Tony and nodded like she was doing them all a huge favour. ‘Anything to get that lazy good-for-nothin’ fella to do something useful, eh?’

Great, now he had Steph on side, he just had to work on the rest of the hillbillies.

‘Just got off the phone to the fire chief. The danger’s over. For now at least.’ Mim placed a plate of kai and a cup of hot malted drink on the desk in front of Connor. He nodded his thanks and smiled, momentarily whipping her breath away.

The danger outside was over, but it was steaming hot in the office.

A shower in the community hall amenities and a change of clothes had transformed Connor from executive to beach bum. But even in shorts and a black T-shirt he oozed authority and X-rated sex appeal.

She watched him swallow the drink, his Adam’s apple moving mesmerisingly up and down. Then she dragged her eyes away and made for the door. ‘Bring your dinner outside, it’s a warm evening and a lovely onshore breeze. Lots of fresh air, no smoke.’

He scrubbed a hand through his wavy hair and looked up from the pile of files. Tiny lines crinkled round his temples as he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and focused on her. Pierced her with his dark gaze. ‘No. You go. I’ve got a day’s work to catch up on.’

‘Given any thought to where you’re going to sleep tonight?’

When they’d got back to town and handed over Connor’s room to Steph they’d discovered the pub was fully booked with campers. Guilt ate at her soul. He’d rushed off to help her friends. Given up his bed for a pregnant woman. Broken protocol, which would have been hard for him.

Made her break protocol, or at least bend it a little.

And now he had no bed for the night. She’d hesitated to offer her couch—it was all she had in the small apartment at the back of the surgery. Way too cosy. And judging by her frisky hormones, the safest distance she could keep between them was a whole block, not a flimsy wall.

‘There’s not a lot of choice. It’s marae-style communal sleeping in the hall, on hard mattresses with a load of people I don’t know. Or my car. Oddly, neither option appeals.’ He shrugged and pointed to the paperwork. ‘Think I’ll do an all-nighter.’

Good. The sooner he was finished with her accounts, the better. Then he would go and normal service would be resumed.

‘Then eat. You can’t work on an empty stomach.’ She pushed the food towards him. ‘This is from Steph’s mum, by way of a thank-you. She’s grateful you saved her daughter from the ravages of the fire. You’re quite the hero. And Boy said to say hi. And Tommo told me he’s having a night off booze. Seems you’ve made quite an impression on the community already.’