Stormbound Surgeon

Joss looked across at her calm grey eyes. ‘I’m here if they need me.’ It was said as a matter of course.

How often was she needed?

What was her story?

‘Don’t look so worried.’ Her smile was meant to be reassuring. ‘If I didn’t think they’d manage—and love every moment of it—I’d be in there, helping. I’m only a buzz away.’ Her smile faded as his look of concern deepened. ‘What’s worrying you? Charlotte’s showing no sign of brain damage. The baby looks great. All we need to do is find out who she is.’

‘Now, that’s something else I don’t understand.’ His frown deepened. ‘Jeff says she’s not a Iluka resident and no one here recognises her.’

‘No.’ It had surprised Amy that she hadn’t recognised the girl. She knew everyone in Iluka.

When she’d thought about it she’d even figured out where Joss fitted in. David and Daisy Braden had been speaking of nothing but their wonderful surgeon-son’s visit for weeks. The whole town had known his exact arrival time, what Daisy was going to cook for him every night, where David intended to take him fishing and…

‘What?’ Joss asked, and Amy’s lovely smile caused a dimple to appear right on the corner of her mouth.

It made him need to struggle hard to concentrate on what she was saying.

‘Sorry. I was just thinking we should set the town onto finding out about our mystery mother. They told me all about you.’

‘Did they?’ He was disconcerted. He was trying really hard not to look at the dimple.

The observations that were happening were mutual. He looked nice when he was disconcerted, Amy decided.

Nice.

There was that word again but it described him absolutely. The more she saw of him the more she liked what she saw. Joss was taller than she was by a couple of inches. He had deep brown hair, curly, a bit sun-bleached and casually styled. His skin was bronzed and he had smiling green eyes.

And his clothes… He’d hauled off his sweater before they’d gone into Theatre but she’d been too rushed to notice, and then he’d put on a theatre gown. Now she was seeing his clothes for the first time.

They were…unexpected, to say the least. He was wearing faded, hip-hugging jeans and a bright white T-shirt with a black motif. The motif said:

‘You’ve been a bad, bad girl. Go straight to my room.’

She blinked and blinked again. Then she grinned. This wasn’t her standard image of a successful young surgeon. It was a rude, crude T-shirt. It shouldn’t make her lips twitch.

‘What?’ he demanded, and her smile widened.

‘I was thinking I shouldn’t be in the same room as you—with that on.’ She motioned to his T-shirt.

Damn. He’d forgotten he was wearing it. His father had given it to him for his birthday… Good old Dad, still trying to get his son moving in the wife department…

Fat chance.

But Amy had moved on. ‘I need to talk to Jeff,’ she said, and crossed to the door.

Joss frowned. ‘I need to find him, too. He’s looking after my dog. Or did one of your residents take him?’

‘Lionel has him.’ Her eyes creased into the smile he was starting to recognise. ‘I saw him. Actually, I’ve heard about him, too. I thought he was much larger than he really is.’

‘Have you been talking to my stepmother?’

Amy assumed an air of innocence. ‘I might have been.’

He sighed. ‘According to Daisy, he’s the size of an elephant. That’s because Bertram takes exception to anyone else sitting on my knee—and her dratted Peke decided it would grace me with its favours.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘As you say.’ He shook off the light-headedness he was feeling. Was it the crash? Or…was it just the way she made him feel? Like he ought to get the conversation back to medicine—fast.

‘Sergeant Packer and I could find no sign of identification at all in the mother’s truck. But he is able to run a plate check. We’re hoping we can find out who she is that way.’

She nodded. ‘And I guess we need to fully examine the baby.’

‘I’ll do that now.’

‘Thank you.’

Joss nodded, aware that he was retreating. He’d come out of his shell a little—a very little—but he didn’t want to stay out.

He had to leave.

‘I’m going to have to figure out how I can get away from this place,’ he said.

Her brows rose at that. ‘You’re leaving?’

‘I was. Until my car was totalled.’

‘Your father said you were here for two weeks.’

‘Yeah, well…’

‘The honeymoon couple were a bit much for you, were they?’ Her eyes danced in sympathy, demanding that he smile in return.

‘You know my father and Daisy?’

‘I certainly do.’ She grinned. ‘Until she met your father, Daisy had her name down here as a potential resident.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Right.

‘They’re very happy,’ she said—and waited.

And out it came. ‘They’re always happy.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘My father’s been married four times.’ It was impossible to keep the bitterness from his voice.

She thought about that. Looking at his face, she saw the layers of pain behind the bald fact.

‘Divorce?’

‘Death. Every time.’

That made it so much worse. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave a laugh that came out harsher than he’d intended. ‘You’d think he’d learn.’

‘That people die?’

‘Yes.’

‘You can be unlucky,’ Amy said softly. ‘Or you can be lucky. I guess your dad has had rotten luck.’

‘He keeps trying to replace…’

‘Your mother?’

He caught himself. What was he saying? He was talking as if she was really interested. As if he wanted to share…

She was a nurse. A medical colleague. He didn’t get close to medical colleagues.

He didn’t get close to anyone.

But she’d seen the expression on his face. She knew he needed to move on.

‘But you do have two weeks’ holiday, right?’ she probed. ‘Being stuck here isn’t a disaster.’

‘I’ll get out.’

‘How?’

That stymied him. ‘I guess…when it stops raining…’

‘If it stops raining.’

‘There’s no need to sound like a prophet of doom,’ he snapped. ‘It’ll rain for forty days and forty nights so collect your cats and dogs and unicorns and build a boat…’

She chuckled. ‘OK. When it stops raining. But it’ll take some time to get the bridge repaired. Maybe we can get a ferry working.’

‘I could get out by helicopter.’ But he sounded dubious and for good reason.

‘Even when it stops raining I doubt you’ll persuade one to land here unless it’s an emergency. Being weary of watching your father and his new wife cuddle each other might not fit into the category of emergency.’

‘The sea…’

‘Have you seen the harbour? There’s no way a boat’s putting to sea until this weather dies.’ She shrugged. ‘Sure, there are boats which will bring supplies when the weather backs off but until then… I’m afraid you’re stuck with us, Joss.’

He liked the way she said his name, he decided. It was sort of lilting. Different.

But he had more important things to think of than lilting voices. His own voice took on a hint of desperation. ‘I can’t go back to stay with Dad and Daisy. I’m going around the twist!’

‘That bad?’

‘They hold hands. Over the breakfast table!’

Amy choked on laughter. ‘So you’re not a romantic, Dr Braden. Well, I never. And you with that T-shirt.’

He had the grace to grin. ‘OK. Despite the T-shirt, I’m not a romantic. Is there a hotel in town?’

‘Nope.’

Sigh. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a room available here.’

‘You don’t suppose your father would be mortally offended if you stayed in a nursing home rather than with him?’

He would. Damn.

But she was thinking for him. ‘What excuse did you give—when you left so suddenly?’

‘That I had to prepare a talk for a conference. It was worrying me so I thought I’d get back early to Sydney to do some preparation.’ Then, at her look, Joss gave an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s the truth. I do.’

‘I believe you.’ Another chuckle. ‘Though thousands wouldn’t. But you’ve solved your own problem.’

‘I have?’

She hesitated, and then said slowly, as if she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing but wanted to anyway, ‘If you need privacy then maybe you can stay at my place. It’s a great isolated spot for writing conference material.’

‘Don’t you live here?’

‘Are you kidding?’ She smiled, and he thought suddenly she shed years when she smiled. She really was extraordinarily lovely. ‘Give me a break. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m not quite ready to live in a retirement home full time.’

Twenty-eight… What was a twenty-eight-year-old incredibly skilled theatre nurse doing in a place like Iluka?

Caring for a husband? For parents? Unconsciously he found his eyes drifting to the third finger of her left hand. Which was tucked in the folds of her dress. Damn.

‘Um…so where do you live?’

‘Millionaire’s Row.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Didn’t your father show you round the town?’

‘Yes…’ He thought back and then his eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me you live in one of those.’

There could be no mistaking his meaning. Amy chuckled again and shrugged. ‘Of course. I live in the biggest and the most ostentatious mansion of them all, and I do so all on my lonesome. I have nine spare bedrooms and three whole spas you can choose from. You can have one and your dog another. You can tell your father that you need to be alone to write—and you can be. You can sit and write conference notes to your heart’s content and we need never see each other. If that’s what you want.’

Of course it was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? But…that smile…

Damn, there was so much here that he didn’t understand.

‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘I have heaps to do and you have a baby and a dog to check, and maybe you need to see Sergeant Packer about your car—or what’s left of it. Lunch is at twelve and you’re very welcome to eat with us. I’m off at two. If you can keep yourself amused until then, I’ll take you home.’

‘You make me sound like a stray puppy,’ he complained, and her smile widened.

‘That’s how you sound.’

‘Hey…’

Her grey eyes twinkled. ‘I know. Nurse subordination to doctors has never been my strong point. Dreadful, isn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?’

But Joss was sure. He definitely didn’t want to spend any more time with his father and Daisy.

And the more he saw of Amy Freye, the more he thought a few days in the same house wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Was he mad? What on earth was he thinking?

‘Um…no, I won’t reconsider,’ he told her, and she laughed. It was as if she knew what he was thinking, and the feeling was distinctly disconcerting.

‘Until two o’clock,’ she told him—and left him to make of her what he would.

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