Surgeon in a Wedding Dress

‘True, but it’s hard to give up hope, isn’t it?’ Her eyes were enormous in her pale face.

‘Very hard.’ His stomach tightened, because of the sad and pointless waste of a life. Not because of the empathy in her eyes.

‘I’d still like to wait.’ She wasn’t asking him, she was telling him, quietly but firmly.

Then from left field he felt a stirring in a region of his body he’d thought long dead. For two despair-filled years, he’d been unintentionally celibate. Now he couldn’t help himself—he glanced down at his groin. Relief poured through him. His reaction had been small. Tipping his head back, he laughed. Another long-forgotten act.

Definitely time to get out and about. That new nurse in the neonatal unit had dropped enough hints, and she obviously liked babies if she worked with them, which had to be a plus. Leah needed siblings. He’d never wanted her to be an only child.

He rubbed his arms. Wanting more children had led to a load of stress and difficulties in his otherwise wonderful marriage. Family was so important. Look how his sisters and brother had rallied round when Celine had died. But Leah would miss out on so much if he didn’t rectify the situation soon. Dating meant getting involved with another person. Was he ready? Would he ever be ready? Not while his guilt over letting down Celine hung over him like a dirty cloud.

Their marriage had been cut short by an aneurysm.

Cut short before they could resolve their problems. The shock of finding Celine’s lifeless body in the bathroom, with Leah sitting beside her singing as though nothing was wrong, still rocked Dan when he thought about it.

Which was why he didn’t think about it.

That’s also why dating was a bad idea. The whole concept of having someone else he might care about taken away from him so abruptly sent him into a cold sweat.

Suddenly the unknown woman thrust a hand out. ‘By the way, I’m Sarah Livingston, your replacement surgeon.’

‘Stone the crows.’ Shock barrelled through him.

It hadn’t occurred to him she might be the locum they expected to arrive tomorrow. The idea was absurd. She was too citified to be stopping here. Too … different. She wouldn’t fit in at all. His stomach tightened another notch. So she wasn’t passing through.

She was moving in.

Into his hospital, his clinic. Into his house.

Sarah tensed. What did the guy mean? Stone the crows. Hadn’t she just performed in a capable and professional manner? ‘You’ve got a problem with me?’

‘Ahh, no.’ The man sounded flummoxed. ‘Not at all.’ ‘I didn’t try to take control of your accident scene.’ Which was unusual. She hated playing second fiddle to anyone. But in this circumstance she’d gone along with him without any concerns. Odd. Was she coming down with something?

So far her impressions of him were straightforward. Strong hands. Sopping-wet, longish hair that appeared black. Eyes that held a load of caution and a quick anger. Then there were those wide shoulders that V’d down to narrow hips. He totally lacked style—his jeans and the baggy, woollen overshirt under his jacket were way past their use-by date. On a professional note, which was far more important, he’d performed very competently with the boy.

‘You certainly made things easier for me.’ His voice was deep, gruff, reminding her of a thistle—rough and prickly exterior, soft inside.

‘You are Dr Daniel Reilly? I heard someone call you Dan so I presumed so. If I’m mistaken, I’m sorry.’

His handshake was firm but brief, as though glad to get the niceties over. But not so fast that she didn’t notice the electricity flaring between them at his touch. Heat sizzled across her palm. Deep in her tummy warmth unfurled, reached throughout her body, reddened her cheeks.

‘It’s my practice you’ll be looking after.’ His tone hardened.

So that was it. He wasn’t happy about leaving his practice in someone else’s hands. The reluctance came through loud and clear. So why had he been told to take a break?

‘I thought you’d be pleased to see me, eager to get on with your holiday.’ She swallowed her disappointment at his lack of welcome. At least with him going on leave she mightn’t see much of him. She hoped.

Really? Truly? You don’t want to follow up on this attraction for him that’s gripping you? Absolutely not. Too soon after Oliver’s betrayal. Who said anything about getting close? What about a fling? A sigh slipped across her bottom lip as she studied Dr Reilly. She doubted her ability to have an affair and not get a little bit close to him. What a shame.

He ignored her jibe, instead turning his back to the pounding surf and nodding at an old, weatherboard building on the other side of the road. ‘We’ll wait in the Gold Miners’ Pub. Can’t have you catching a chill.’

As if. Sarah looked around at the sodden beach, the black, churning waters of the Tasman Sea, the heavy, leaden clouds racing in. Everything was wet, wet, wet. How could she have thought leaving home would help put the last few months behind her? She could’ve decided about her future in an environment she was used to, not on an alien planet.

How stupid to think doing a complete flip-over of her life would change anything. She shoved her fists into her jacket pockets, already knowing she should’ve stayed at home for these months, should’ve told her father no. Right now she’d be in her gorgeous apartment overlooking Auckland’s inner harbour, the vibrant City of Sails, where money talked. Where gorgeous, chic sandals stayed gorgeous, not getting ruined the moment she hopped out of her car.

The months in Port Weston stretched out before her like an endless road. But she wasn’t quitting. Port Weston might be like nothing she was used to, but she had to stay. She’d given her word.

Then her eyes focused on Daniel Reilly, and for some unknown reason she wondered if she’d be wise to leave right away, while she still could.

CHAPTER TWO

DR REILLY made Sarah, at five feet six, feel almost short. Following him into the dark, wood-panelled interior of the Gold Miners’ Pub, she admired his easy, smooth gait, his natural grace that belied his big build. The latent strength she’d glimpsed when he’d popped Anders’s joint back was evident in the set of his shoulders, in the loose swing of his hands. Her tongue licked her lips. Gorgeous.

He turned to her. ‘A shot of something strong will warm you through and stop your teeth chattering.’

‘I’d prefer Earl Grey tea.’

He winced. ‘Earl Grey? On the Coast?’ His eyes rolled. ‘That fancy city stuff won’t win you many friends around here.’

‘As that’s not why I’m here, it doesn’t matter.’

‘I’d like a practice to return to.’

‘Not a problem.’ The man’s looks might take her breath away but his prickly disposition annoyed her. Was she the only one he treated that way? Probably not, if he had to be forced to take leave. The intensity with which he studied her sent a blush right down to her toes. Did he like what he saw? Did she care? Uh, hello? Unbelievable how quickly her awareness of him had reached the point where she wondered how his touch on her skin would affect her. It would burn her up, she suspected. Her overreaction must be due to the contrast between the overly hot room and the chilly dampness outside. What else could it be?

Try lust or physical attraction; forget the weather. Really? Then her stomach growled. That’s what this was all about. Lack of food. Not Dr Yummy.

‘I heard that grumbling,’ the man dominating her thoughts said, amusement briefly lightening those cool, assessing eyes.

‘I’m starving.’ Hardly surprising. Unable to bring herself to eat those woeful muffins, her last meal had been breakfast. A glance at her watch showed it was now after five.

Behind the long bar a pretty woman with wild red hair called across the room. ‘Dan, the hospital phoned to say everything’s under control.’ The woman looked pointedly at Sarah. ‘Can I get you both a drink? I’m sure your friend might like something.’

Shock registered on Dan’s face. ‘This is Sarah Livingston. My locum.’

Not his friend. Probably never would be. What a pity.

‘Are you really?’ the woman asked Sarah, her face lighting up with a speculative gleam as her gaze moved to Dan and back. ‘Wonderful.’

Sarah gulped. Don’t get any bright ideas about matchmaking. If Oliver’s defection had taught her anything it was not to trust as easily as she had last time. Besides, Dan Reilly was far too unsophisticated for her liking. Except that sculpted body did fascinate her. Maybe she could cope with unsophisticated—as an interlude. Hadn’t she thought about having fun with men who didn’t want anything more demanding? But an affair with this man? Not likely. That could complicate things when she had to step into his shoes at the local hospital.

Dan continued the introductions. ‘Jill’s our head theatre nurse, and a barmaid in her spare time. She’ll get you whatever you want, though a slug of brandy would do you a sight more good than tea.’

Sarah retorted, ‘Suggestion noted.’ Forget the interlude. If she ever progressed to having an affair it would be with someone personable and fun, not grumpy and domineering.

Jill leaned across the counter. ‘Welcome to Port Weston. Since we’ll be working together, give me a call if you have any questions about work or anything else. Or if you’re ever hankering for a coffee, I’m available.’

‘Thanks for that.’ At least someone was pleased to see her here. ‘You must be busy, with two jobs.’

‘Malcolm, my husband and Dan’s brother, runs the pub except when he’s out rescuing fools who don’t read warning signs.’ Jill banged two glasses on the counter. ‘What’ll it be?’

‘Two brandies.’ Dan didn’t consult Sarah, instead told her, ‘Malcolm’s the search and rescue coordinator.’

‘He was one of the men who’d carried Anders in?’ No wonder Jill looked worried.

‘Yep.’ Dan sipped his drink appreciatively.

‘I’ll bet he went straight back out to sea after handing his charge over to you.’ Jill glared at Dan.

‘Hey, steady up. You know there’s no way I could’ve stopped him. A team of Clydesdale horses couldn’t have.’ Dan reached across and covered Jill’s hand with his.

There were tears in the other woman’s eyes. ‘I know, but he worries me silly. One day he won’t come back from a rescue mission.’

Sarah found herself wanting to hug Jill. And she didn’t do hugs. Not very often anyway. Certainly not with people she’d only just met. But, then, she wasn’t normally rattled by a man like Dan either. Or any man, come to think of it. Must be something in the West Coast air.

Dan said to Jill, ‘Don’t think like that. You know you wouldn’t change him for anything.’ Then he turned his attention back to Sarah. ‘We’d better get out of our wet clothes. You’re shivering non-stop.’

‘I’ll get some dry things from my car in a moment.’ Sarah took a large swallow of brandy, gasping as it burned a track down her throat. ‘Wow.’

‘Wait till the warmth spreads through you, then you won’t be twisting your nose sideways like that.’ Dan actually smiled. A long, slow smile that at last went all the way to his eyes.

Blue eyes. So what? It was a common colour. But other blue eyes didn’t remind her of hot, lazy days at the beach. Or make her toes curl up in anticipation of exciting things to come. Like what? Who cared? Anything with this man would be exhilarating. Was it possible to become drunk in thirty seconds? Because that’s how she felt.

‘Where’re your keys? I’ll get your bag, save you getting another drenching.’

So he could do ‘nice’. She dug into her jacket pocket, handed her keyring to him. ‘My car’s out the front.’

His fingers were warm against hers as he took the keys. ‘I know. It’s the odd one out amongst the dirty four–wheel-drives and family wagons.’

‘It fits in where I come from.’

‘I’m sure it does.’ Dan hauled the heavy front door open with a jerk. ‘Malcolm still hasn’t shaved this blasted door, Jill.’

‘Tell him, not me.’ Jill topped up Sarah’s glass even though it wasn’t empty. ‘Here, a bit more won’t hurt you. There’s no colour in your cheeks.’

‘Thanks, but I’d better go easy on it.’ What she really needed was food.

‘A hot shower will do you wonders. You can use our bathroom.’

A blast of cold air hit her as Dan poked his head around the door, looking bemused. ‘Which bag?’

‘The small one.’ Hopefully that contained everything she needed.

‘You didn’t bring a small one,’ Dan retorted. ‘Why do some women have to cart their whole wardrobe everywhere they go?’

‘Guess that’s a rhetorical question.’ Sarah stared at the closing door.

‘Guess he’s exaggerating?’ Jill’s smile warmed her.

‘Definitely not all my clothes.’ Already she liked Jill enough to relax with her. Could she be making a new friend? What was the point? She’d be gone in three months. There again, a friend would be good. She missed the three women she’d known since high school and done all her growing up with.

They’d gone to university together, coming out well versed in life and clutching degrees to their proud chests. Two doctors, one architect and an advertising guru. Three marriages, three mothers; and then there was her. Sometimes she knew she didn’t quite belong to the quartet any more. Conversations over dinners and coffee seemed to revolve around children and school timetables, husbands and schedules—things Sarah didn’t have a clue about.

Jill was still talking. ‘Dan’s okay behind that rugged exterior. A pussy cat really. You’ll get along fine.’

Sarah knew pussycats, even those in disguise. Dan didn’t fit the bill. Tiger was a more apt description. Stealthy when he had to be. Fast when he went for the kill. There was a mix of strength and stubbornness in the set of his chin. His classic handsome features were made interesting by a too-wide mouth and a ragged scar on the point of his chin.

‘Here you go, the small one,’ Dan said from behind her, causing her to jump. Definitely stealthy.

Jill asked Dan, ‘Can you show Sarah to my bedroom? The rescue crew can’t be far away and they’ll be wanting food.’

At the mention of food Sarah’s stomach turned over. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, and then I’ll give you a hand,’ she told Jill. Whoa, back up. She’d help? In a pub? She’d get messy and greasy.

New year, new life, remember?

‘Along here.’ Dan led the way out to the back and into the private quarters. He opened a door and let her precede him into a double bedroom. ‘The bathroom’s through there.’

He smelt of damp wool and warm male as she brushed past him. No trace of expensive aftershave or hair product. A clean, uninhibited masculine scent. Sarah hesitated, looked back over her shoulder at him, a sudden longing for something she couldn’t put her finger on gripping her.

‘What about you?’ She was suddenly, oddly, nervous.

Placing her case in the middle of the floor, he turned to leave. His look was cool, his mouth a straight line. ‘There’s another bathroom next door.’

As she poked through her case for suitable clothes she could hear Dan moving about in that other bathroom, presumably preparing for his shower. An image of a well-muscled body filled her mind. And of a rare but endearing, smile tinged with sadness. What caused that sadness? Of course, she could be wrong about the muscles. She hoped not. A thrill of pleasure warmed her body—and shook her carefully formulated concept of her time in Port Weston.

The jets of water were piping hot against her skin and she gave herself up to them, putting aside thoughts of Daniel Reilly, good and otherwise. Especially those about his body. But how could a bad-tempered man wearing such shapeless clothes ooze so much sex appeal?

The bar was crowded and the mood sombre when Sarah returned. Dan was perched on a stool at the end of the long counter. He waved her over. ‘Do you want another drink?’

Schooling her face into a smile, Sarah looked him over as she replied, ‘No, thanks.’

His clean shirt fitted snugly across his chest while his dry, worn jeans were tight. Her mouth dried. Beneath the faded denim his thighs were every bit as muscular as she’d imagined.

‘Anders’s father still hasn’t been found.’

‘That’s not good.’ She pulled her shoulders back, focusing on what Dan said, not what he wore.

‘That lad needs his father alive and well, not dead and washed up on a beach,’ Dan snapped.

‘Some people will always take chances.’ But not her. She’d focused on her career, foregoing a relationship until she’d specialised, at the same time working on making her father proud.

‘They shouldn’t, not when they’ve got a family to consider.’

Sarah totally agreed with him, but diplomatically changed the subject. ‘Does Port Weston have a GP? I didn’t see one on the beach.’

‘Tony Blowers. He’s up a valley, delivering a baby, at the moment.’

‘Lucky for Anders you were here, then.’ She looked around, spied Jill busy pulling beers, and remembered her promise. ‘I said I’d help with the food so I’d better find out what’s to be done.’

‘You did?’ He didn’t bother disguising his surprise. Those intense cobalt eyes measured her up and down, making her very aware of the snug black slacks and black figure-hugging cotton sweater she’d pulled on.

Dan drawled, ‘You might just fit in here yet.’

Pity he didn’t sound like he meant it. ‘You don’t want me here, do you?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Thank you for your honesty.’ That she could deal with. It was a little harder to ignore the fact he wouldn’t give her a chance.

‘It’s nothing personal,’ Dan added quietly.

‘That’s a relief,’ she muttered, hoping he meant it and wasn’t trying to placate her.

The door crashed back against the wall and drenched men, carrying a stretcher, pressed into the pub. Pat told Dan, ‘We’ve found Starne. He washed up further along and tried to climb the cliff. Fell, and broke his arm, by the look of it.’

‘Put him on the couch. It’s warmer in here than in a bedroom.’ Dan removed cushions and the men lowered the stretcher.

Kneeling down beside the man, Sarah told him, ‘I’m Sarah Livingston, a doctor. Can you hear me?’

The man’s eyes flew open. ‘Where’s my son? Is he all right?’ He tried sitting up, pushing on his elbows, only to flop back down, groaning with pain.

Dan laid a hand on the man’s chest. ‘Take it easy.’

Starne tried to knock Dan’s hand away with his good arm. ‘Is my boy all right? Tell me what happened to him.’ The distressed man looked ready to leap up off the couch.

‘I’m Dan Reilly, a surgeon. I saw Anders when the rescuers brought him onto the beach.’ Dan continued giving Starne the details about his boy, finishing with, ‘He’s in hospital and doing well.’

Jill helped Sarah tuck blankets around the man. ‘I’ll have hot-water bottles ready very soon.’

Tears streamed down the man’s face. ‘The waves banged Anders against the rocks so many times. I couldn’t reach him. I thought he was gone.’

‘You’re both very lucky.’ Sarah noted his pulse rate as she talked.

Dan nudged her, spoke softly. ‘You’re doing great with him, calming him down better than I managed. I’ll do the secondary survey.’

She nodded, pleased with the compliment, however small, and silently counted the rise and fall of their patient’s chest. ‘I’m onto the resps.’

As his fingers felt for contusions Dan told their patient, ‘I’ll check you over, starting with your head.’

Those firm, gently probing fingers on Starnes’s scalp tantalised her. What would they be like on her skin, stroking, teasing, racking up the tension? ‘Damn.’ She started counting again.

Dan glanced at Sarah as he worked. ‘The sooner we get this man to hospital where he can see his boy, the better. I know that’s what I’d want if I’d been thinking the worst.’

Sarah’s heart squeezed. No parent wanted to outlive their child. As hers had done. ‘The downside of being a parent.’

She hadn’t realised she’d spoken aloud until Dan said, ‘Children cause a lot of worry and heartache, that’s for sure. Have you got any?’

‘No.’

‘I guess now’s not the time to ask why not.’

There’d never be a right time. ‘Resps slightly slow.’

‘Temperature?’ Dan asked. At least he could take a hint.

Sarah looked around for Jill. ‘You wouldn’t have a thermometer?’

‘Coming up.’ Jill was already halfway out the room.

‘Finding anything?’ Dan asked Sarah as she palpated Starnes’s stomach and liver.

She shook her head. ‘These two should buy a lottery ticket.’

‘We’re certainly not giving you time to settle in quietly, are we?’ Dan looked at her for a moment.

No, and being so close to him, breathing his very maleness, added to the sense of walking a swaying tightrope. ‘Guess I’ll manage,’ she muttered, not sure whether she meant the patients or Dan.

Someone handed them hot-water bottles, Sarah reaching for them at the same moment as Dan. Their hands touched, fingers curled around each other’s before they could untwine themselves. ‘S-sorry.’ Sarah snatched her hand back.

‘No problem,’ snapped Dan, his eyes wide and his face still.

Sarah cringed. Did he think she’d done that on purpose? Surely not? She couldn’t deny her attraction for him, but to deliberately grab his hand when she hardly knew him was not her style. Knowing that to say anything in her defence would only make the situation worse, she kept quiet, and again reached for the bottles, making sure to keep well away from Dan.

She placed the bottles in Starnes’s armpits and around his groin to maximise his potential for absorbing the warmth.

‘The left ankle is swollen, possibly sprained,’ Sarah pointed.

‘My thoughts exactly.’

‘Will we—I—be required to go into theatre if surgery’s needed?’ Sarah almost hoped not. She was tired and hungry, not in good shape to be operating.

Dan sat back on his haunches and those piercing eyes clashed with hers. ‘You don’t officially start until tomorrow so if someone’s needed I’ll do it.’

Why? She’d come for one reason only, and he was holding her back. As her blood started heating up and her tongue forming a sharp reply, he continued, ‘You’ll want to unpack and settle in at the house. Alison should manage unless she’s got another emergency.’

Sarah eased off on her annoyance. How could she stay mad when those eyes bored into her like hot summer rays? ‘As long as you know I’m happy to assist if needed.’

A blast of cold air announced the arrival of the ambulance crew. ‘Hi, there, again.’ Kerry hunkered down beside Dan. ‘What’ve we got this time?’

While Dan relayed the details Sarah stood and stretched her calf muscles, arching her back and pulling her shoulders taut. Dan’s gaze followed her movements as he talked to the paramedic, sending a thrill through her. Those eyes seemed to cruise over her, as though they could see right through her to things she never told anyone. Which was plain crazy. How could this man, a stranger really, see through her façade? See beyond the clothes to her soul? He couldn’t. Could he?

‘Here …’ Jill waved across the punters’ heads. ‘Sandwiches and a coffee. Or would you like something stronger?’

‘Coffee’s fine.’ Grateful for the food, Sarah swallowed her disappointment at the mug of murky instant coffee being slid across the counter towards her. ‘Do you still need a hand in the kitchen?’

‘I’ve got it covered. Bea arrived while you were in the shower, and she’s happy as a kid in a sandpit out there cooking up fries.’

‘Bea?’

‘Dan’s sister.’

‘Is everyone around here related to him?’ Biting into a thick sandwich filled with ham and tomato, Sarah told her stomach to be patient, sustenance was on the way down.

‘Not quite.’ Dan sent Jill a silent message before turning to Sarah. ‘You want to share those?’ He nodded at the sandwiches.