Waking Up With His Runaway Bride

‘The drugs didn’t just destroy her, they destroyed any kind of family life. She was scared to go to the doctor in case she was judged. And she would have been. Dana was judged her whole life for winning and losing and everything in between. For what she could have been. What she wasn’t. Sad when a town pins their hopes on you, and you fail.’

Mim shrugged, fired now to continue. ‘She hated the sterility of the doctor’s surgery, the smell. I thought if I made this place accessible and non-judgemental, open and caring, then more people like her would come.’

He put his pen down and finally looked up at her, rested his chin on his fist. Like he was really seeing her for the first time since he’d walked back into her life. ‘You never talked about it like this. I didn’t realise … I’m surprised you got out whole.’

You don’t know the half of it. ‘Who said I was?’

‘From what I remember, you’re more whole than most.’ He smiled. It seemed genuine enough. Warm honey flecks flashed in his eyes.

Ah, there they are. She relaxed a little. It had taken time, but they were back. At least for now. At least he remembered some of their time together with fondness, then. Maybe he’d be gentle after all.

‘Dana’s dramas were a long time ago, and I had a great role model in my nan. My focus now is on family medicine. Keeping families healthy and safe. Besides …’

She forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood she’d sunk into. No point in dwelling on what had happened. She had a future ahead of her and she was going to make it work. Three months … ‘It fits well. Dana’s Drop-In. Imagine if she’d been called something like Janice or Patty. Janice’s Joint. Very inappropriate. Or Patty’s Place. Sounds like a pole-dancing club.’

He laughed. A deep rumble that teased the dark corners of her soul. Another thing she remembered about Connor. His laughter was infectious and rich. And she’d missed it. The granite softened. ‘Calling it Atanga Bay Medical Centre would have been just fine.’

‘Sure, but where’s the fun in that? I want to remind people of how Dana was before she got sick. How proud they were of her when she left to represent their country. Darling Dana. Not druggie Dana who came home in disgrace, who stole and lied and became an embarrassment.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘You’ve got to admit it’s unique. It’s open house, there’s free tea and coffee. A place to sit and chat. A small free library. Community resources. It works. Until I opened there was nothing in the way of medical services at all. Just look at the increasing patient list.’

‘Yes, I can see. It’s a surprising place to have a practice. The middle of nowhere. Albeit pretty spectacular. And you have a very unusual approach. But, then, you always were … unpredictable.’

His mouth curled into a reluctant half-smile. As if remembering something sweet, a past innocence. He reached out to her arm—a gentle gesture that five minutes ago she wouldn’t have believed he was capable of making. Hidden in the folds of that expensive suit, behind the cool exterior, was the determined and passionate man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with. There’d been a glimmer of him just now. But he’d gone again as he’d withdrawn his hand. ‘Now, on to question two.’

‘So? How’s it going?’ Two hours into the assessment Mim leaned against the doorway of the smallest admin room Connor had ever seen and nibbled the corner of her lip. A nervous habit he remembered of old.

In fact, lots of things had him spinning back three years. The scent of her mango body butter smell lingering in every space. The hesitant smile that was slow to blossom but that lit up her face. That pale, creamy thigh he’d glimpsed earlier. The way she looked at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

The one who’d disappeared without trace and left him reeling.

Walking in and seeing her laughing and dancing on the desk—acting pure Mim—had been a body blow. Hard and low.

He’d thought he’d hammered his heart back together with armour plating. He had vowed never to let himself be so vulnerable again. Loving hurt. Losing hurt more.

His latest ex described him as closed. Cold. Clearly his approach had worked well with her. It had always worked for his father too. He was only doing what he’d learnt by parental example. Don’t let anyone in, and you won’t run a risk of being destroyed in the fallout.

But being here with Mim had the plating cracking already. Despite the million promises he’d made to himself. Take a leaf out of Father’s book. Focus on work. Work was easy. Structured, rigid, predictable. With outcomes he could control. Unlike relationships.

And still she hovered. Could she not see how distracting she was being? ‘Early days, Mim. I’m busy here.’

‘Sorry. If you need anything …’

‘I’ll call. This place is so small you’d hear me if I whispered.’ Uncertainty tainted her chocolate-fudge eyes but she didn’t move. He exhaled and tried to keep the exasperation hidden. ‘How desperate are you to pass this assessment, Mim?’

‘I’m not desperate. Not at all.’ Her shoulders went ramrod straight. He remembered her pride and ingrained independence. He’d been on the whipping end of that before. And it stung.

Her pupils dilated. ‘But getting the accreditation will help. I have plans to expand, and I need more rooms, a visiting physio, counsellor, nutritionists.’

‘Okay, we’ll start with the financial reports. I’ll read through them now. Then have a quick chat about budgets and audit.’

‘Ooh, I can’t wait. You really know how to impress a girl.’ She laughed, then edged back a little as if she’d overstepped the mark. Her voice quieted. ‘Sorry. Must be nerves.’

‘You cut your hair.’

Why the hell had he even noticed that? Let alone said it?

She ran a hand over her short bob absent-mindedly. ‘Not that it matters but, yes. A while ago now.’

‘It suits you.’ It was probably a good thing that the long dark curls he’d loved to rake his hands through were gone. No temptation there.

The style made her look older, more mature. And she was thinner. Her watch hung from her wrist. Her misshapen green jumper draped off her frame.

‘You’re looking good yourself. Very executive. A big change from … before.’ She looked away, heat burning her cheeks. Not for the first time today. She was either embarrassed as hell—as she should be—or just plain nervous. Desperate.

She ran a slow finger across her clavicle. Not a sexual gesture, again it was more absent-minded than anything else. He’d swear on it. But his gaze followed the line her finger traced and a video of kissing a path along that dip played in his head.

Damn. He clamped his teeth together to take his mind off her throat. He didn’t want memories burning a hole in his skull. Memories and emotions were pointless and skewered his thought processes. They couldn’t fix a problem or bring someone back. And they hurt too much.

He wasn’t going to hurt any more.

No, he just needed to get the job done, then out. Unscathed and unburdened. And having her right here in his space was not going to work.

He scraped his chair across the faded pink carpet. ‘Okay, scoot. Get out of my hair. I need to concentrate. There’s a lot of paperwork to get through. I’ll call you when I need you.’

She nodded, her finger darting from her neck to her mouth. ‘One quick question.’

‘You are insufferable.’ But, then, he’d always known that, and it hadn’t made a difference to loving her. He held up two fingers. ‘Two seconds then you have to leave. Okay?’

‘Okay, boss. I just wondered—first impressions?’ She looked at him through a thick fringe. Her eyes accentuated by the matching chocolate hair colour. Rich and thick. Frustration melted into something more dangerous.

Maybe running his fingers through couldn’t hurt …

First impressions? Sexy as hell.

‘That’s going to take a heck of a lot longer than two seconds. And you might not like it.’ He pulled his gaze away. Tried to find something positive to say before he hit her with the unassailable truth. Kiss-kick-kiss. Perhaps then she’d leave. When he’d broken her heart with his first impression. ‘I’ve scanned through the Imms register and I’m surprised.’

She looked expectantly at him. ‘Good surprised?’

‘Come on, Mim, I’m just starting. I’ve hardly had a chance to get my head around things. There’s a lot of work to be done yet, but your immunisation rates are outstanding. Big tick for that.’

Pride swelled her voice. ‘Every time I see a patient I remind them about imms. So important.’

‘Admirable.’

She was trying so hard to impress he almost felt sorry for her. But for their history. He ran a hand over the window-sill and showed her the peeling flecks of yellow paint. Now for the kick.

‘But the structure and organisational processes leave a lot to be desired. Your intentions are good, but from where I’m standing it’s a shabby practice in the middle of a rundown township. I’m hoping I’m going to find some better news in your business plans and policies.’

‘Of course, policies, your hobby horse. Don’t hold your breath. Not really my strong suit. But …’

‘I know, it’s a work in progress. That might not be good enough. Perhaps we should do this in a year or so, once you’ve had time to prepare in accordance with the guidelines.’

She visibly flinched and he briefly wished he could take it back.

But he wasn’t there to protect her. He was there to do an objective assessment as a representative of a local authority. ‘Routines and regulations make things run smoothly. Save lives in the long run. Without them people get lost. Accidents happen. People die.’

Janey. The armour round his heart quivered then clenched tight at the thought of his sister. No point trying to explain to Mim. What would she care? He wasn’t inclined to share his motives with an untrustworthy ex-girlfriend. However sinfully sexy. ‘I said I’d be honest.’

She turned back to him, eyes now firing with determination. The old Mim shone through. She may have been subdued, but she was there simmering in the background.

‘Okay, so, Dana’s Drop-In might not be conventional, it’s not standardised and faceless like your fancy chrome Auckland offices. I admit I need processes. But it will work, Connor. What did you say about potential?’

‘I was talking about Atanga Bay in general, not this place.’ Grateful for the clash of swords and not sentiment, he began to relax. ‘Bowling it and starting again would fix a lot. But you always were … how did my father put it? Odd.’

‘I might be odd by your father’s standards, but my style works out here. You love a challenge, Connor. Dig deeper, and see what I can see.’

‘Er …? Sorry to interrupt, Mim …’ The goth with the pierced nose arrived in the room. Perhaps she was all Mim had been able to get out here.

‘There’s been an accident up at Two Rivers. Details are sketchy, but it seems there’s been an explosion and a fire. Tony’s bringing the walking wounded here. Four or five so far, I think.’

Mim nodded. The fire in her eyes was replaced with a calm, steely precision. Professional and businesslike. ‘Thanks, Skye. I’ll be right there.’

Connor jumped up, adrenalin kicking deep. ‘I’ll help. Sounds like it could be busy.’

‘That’s kind of you.’ Mim smiled softly, gazed the length of his body. Heat swept through him on a tidal wave, prickling his veins and firing dormant cells to full alert, taking him by surprise. He’d expected a vague flicker of awareness, but not full fireworks sparking through his body.

‘But we’ll be fine here at the coalface. Why don’t you go back to your paperwork? We don’t want to get that lovely suit dirty, do we?’

CHAPTER TWO

TO MIM’S infinite irritation, Connor appeared unfazed by her barbed comment. He stared her down, then shook out of his jacket and rolled his Italian cotton shirtsleeves up. Sparks flew from his onyx eyes.

‘Mim, you never worried about getting down and dirty before. What’s changed? Frightened you might get burnt?’ He threw the jacket onto the desk. ‘I’m not going to sit back while there’s a major incident unfolding. I’ll go up there and see if I can help.’

‘What are you going to do? Waft the fire out with your questionnaire?’

He visibly bristled but the sensual flare in his eyes spelled trouble. Connor had always loved sparring with her. Said she was the most fiery woman he’d ever met. That it was the biggest turn-on ever. Some things hadn’t changed. He smiled confidently, inviting more. Seemed they couldn’t help firing incendiary shots back and forth even after three years. ‘It would work better than all that hot air you’re generating.’

‘You haven’t changed a jot, Connor Wiseman. Still as bloody-minded as ever. But right now I’m sure the firefighters don’t need a do-gooder city slicker hindering their work.’

She walked up the corridor, sucked in a breath and tried to concentrate on one disaster at a time. Priority: bush fire. Lives at risk. And he followed, clearly undeterred.

She stopped in Reception and explained to him, ‘There’s a campsite not far from Two Rivers. It’s been a long, dry summer and the bush is brittle. A fire could get out of hand pretty quickly. As I’m community warden, and the only med centre for miles, protocol states they bring the injured here. It’s safer and out of the line of fire.’

Protocol. He’d like that.

‘So we stay here for now. You’ll need all the help you can get.’

‘We need to be ready. Dressing packs and oxygen cylinders are in the treatment rooms, there’s labels on the drawers and shelves. It should be self-explanatory.’ She paused as sirens screeched past the surgery towards the new development.

Time hadn’t diminished his bombastic streak. Connor still went hell for leather along his own path without taking much notice of what anyone else had to say. But he was right, she didn’t have the luxury of turning away another pair of skilled hands in an emergency.

‘We also have a walk-in clinic running at the moment, which is always busy Monday mornings. Sure you can handle this, city boy? Things could get messy.’

To her surprise, his smile widened. Irritating and frustratingly appealing all at the same time. He stepped closer, his breath grazing her neck. Making the hairs on her neck prickle to attention.

‘Is that a threat, Mim? Or a promise?’

‘I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’ The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. He’d got her hackles up. Just having him there threw her way off balance.

He arched an eyebrow. All the raw, potent tension, zinging between them like electricity, coming to a head. ‘Oh, really? Tell that to my parents and the caterers and the party guests.’

‘I didn’t ask for an engagement party. Once your mum got a whiff of the idea she ran with it.’

‘Okay. Let’s clear the air, then we can focus on what’s important.’ He breathed out deeply, put his palms flat on the desk. ‘My mum was trying to help. Then you ditched. It was a long time ago and I’m over it. No second chances, like you always said. Never look back. Great philosophy. You missed the boat, princess. Don’t blame me if you didn’t know a good thing when you saw it.’

‘I knew it wasn’t for me.’

But it had been a very good thing. Until she’d had to make impossible choices. Atanga Bay or Auckland. Break the promises she’d made to her mother or to Connor? ‘And I made the right decision. You’re doing well. And I’m happy here.’

‘But obviously you’re still bothered about it. Embarrassed perhaps? Regretful? Don’t they say that the first form of defence is attack?’

The smell of his aftershave washed around her. The same as he’d worn back then. Leather and spice and earthy man. Throwing her back to their long, lazy afternoons in bed. When they’d believed their dreams were possible. Before she’d been bamboozled into a life she hadn’t wanted.

Her hackles stood to attention again. At the same time her stomach somersaulted at the memory of kissing his lips and the way he had tasted. Ozone and chardonnay, cinnamon whirls and coffee. Connor. And how once she’d started to kiss him she’d never wanted to stop. She shook her head in despair. Memories were not helpful.

‘Our relationship ran its course. I’m not sore or embarrassed, and I’m not trying to attack you. I’m sorry if it came over that way.’

‘Want a little advice? Seems you need me more than I need you right now. You have an assessment hanging over your head and an emergency. And I could walk out that door and never look back. But I don’t think you need that, right? So maybe if you want my help, you could try being civil.’

She turned away and swallowed hard. He was right. In a cruel twist of fate, he was her only hope. Civil it had to be.

Mercifully the door swung open before she could answer, and four men limped in. Their faces were streaked with black and their clothes singed. Hard hats and heavy work boots were left at the door.

‘Okay, gentlemen. Take a breath.’ Mim sat them down in Reception, gave them all a fleeting assessment. Triaging four injured construction workers was way more in her comfort zone than needling an old flame.

‘What’s the story, Tony?’ She nodded at the foreman, a local and friend, knowing he’d have the details covered.

‘A gas cylinder blew, hit a couple of the lads square in the face—they’ve been airlifted to Auckland General. There’s a fire burning out of control on the site.’ He coughed long and hard, then pointed to his pals. ‘This motley crew are mainly smoke inhalation, a few cuts and bruises, and I reckon Boy here’s got a broken finger from falling over. Daft coot. Never seen anyone away run so fast. Or fall so hard.’

Connor stepped into the fray. ‘Okay. Tony? You come with me, sounds like you could do with some oxygen to help clear those lungs. Boy, you go with Mim. Skye, take the other two through to Treatment Room Two.’

‘And you are?’ Tony stood and faced Connor, his face grim beneath the soot.

Just great. Mim’s heart plummeted. For the last few months Tony had been playing suitor, quietly. Little gestures, the odd interested phrase. Dinner for two at the pub. She’d let him down gently as soon as she’d realised his intentions were more than just friendly.

It wasn’t just that she didn’t fancy him, but she’d sworn off men. Men wanted her to need them. To rely on them. She couldn’t. She hated the thought of losing control over anything—particularly her emotions.

She stepped in, tried to infuse her voice with a quiet plea for calm. Tony was hot-headed at the best of times and obviously stressed. ‘Tony, this is Connor Wiseman. He’s that assessor I told you about. He’s going to be here for a while, on and off. He’s also a doctor and is keen to help out.’

‘Okay. Connor. A word of warning, mate.’ Tony stuck his hand out. ‘Our Mim doesn’t take too kindly to being told what to do.’

‘Believe me, I know. I’ve still got the scars.’ Our Mim. Connor squared his shoulders and gripped the man’s hand. Clearly Tony and Mim were more than well acquainted. The man had possession written all over his sooty face. And the way Mim looked at Tony, in such a conciliatory way, those full lips curling into a gentle smile for another man, sent jolts of jealousy and anger spasming through him. She’d thrown him over for this? This nowheresville town and this hulk of a man?

Well, good luck to them. Traces of fading arousal from their early spat cemented into a clarity of focus. He wasn’t here to woo her back. Not a chance. He’d lost her once. What kind of idiot would invite that kind of grief again?

Letting him go, Connor nodded. But for the record … ‘Mim and I go way back.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ Tony put a hand on Mim’s shoulder. His voice threw down a gauntlet. ‘Primary school? High school? Pretty much all her life.’

Mim tried to stand casually between them. ‘Right, then. Let’s not waste time trawling through my life, shall we?’

She almost laughed. The scenario made her seem like some kind of diva. Little Mim, who hadn’t had so much as a kiss for three years, trying to keep two men from taunting each other. Surreal. ‘Second thoughts, Tony, you come with me. Boy, go with Connor.’

She bundled Tony into Treatment Room One and applied an oxygen mask, measured his sats and vitals. She decided not to mention his possessiveness. That would only draw attention to something she wanted to ignore. ‘Take a few deep breaths. You hurt anywhere else?’

‘Nah. All good, Mim. Scary, though. Those guys were hurt badly. Nasty business.’

‘Anyone I know?’ A likely prospect, as she knew every single inhabitant of Atanga Bay.

‘Macca Wilson and Toby Josiah.’

‘Oh, no.’ Her stomach knotted. Two of their finest. ‘I’ll phone the hospital later and see how they’re doing. Shelly’s going to need a hand with those little kiddies while Macca’s in hospital. And Toby’s mum’ll be worried sick. Any others injured?’

‘No one else got the blast. Just us, and we were a little way back. But the wind whipped up a blaze in no time. Civil Defence is up there, assessing with the fire department. No real danger, but they’re evacuating the campsite as a precaution.’

‘I’ll grab the key to the community hall and go open up. That’s the designated assembly point. Besides, there’s nowhere else to put a campsite full of people.’ Measuring Tony’s sats again, Mim smiled. ‘No major problems here. But I’ll leave you with the oxygen on for a couple of minutes while I go start the phone tree. We’re going to need bedding, food and water for the evacuees.’

After opening up the hall next door, starting the cascade of calls firing the locals into action and discharging Tony, Mim found Connor suturing a deep gash on one of the construction worker’s legs. Connor looked up as she entered, those dark eyes boring into her. Energy emanated from him, as electric as ever. Plug him in and her power-bill woes would be over.

Seeing him there, in her space, so incongruously smart and chic in her tired treatment room, and so very Connor, threw her off centre again. She gripped the doorhandle as she inhaled, deeply, to steady herself. Leather and spice and earthly man again. Her body hummed in automatic response. Inhaling was a big mistake.

He smiled, adding an urgent charge to the humming. She squeezed the handle harder and calmed her body’s reaction to him.

For goodness’ sake, she’d purged her grief at their split years ago, when it had become so obvious she couldn’t give him what he wanted. What they both wanted. Clearly her brain had reconciled that, but her body was living in a time warp. If only she could fast-forward to the end of the review, hopefully some cash. Getting her practice to its full potential. Connor leaving.

He waved gloved hands towards her. ‘Mim? Pass that gauze, will you? Just closing up. Tommo here’s had a tetanus and we’re starting antibiotics as a precaution. I was just telling him, gravel wounds are a haven for bacteria.’ He nodded at his patient. ‘Finish the whole course of tablets, okay?’

‘Yes, Doc.’ Tommo grinned. ‘And keep off the grog too, eh?’

‘Just cut down, mate. A couple of stubbies a night, that’s all. That liver’s got to last you a lifetime.’ He smiled as Tommo headed out the door. ‘And don’t forget about that well-man appointment. You won’t regret it.’

‘Sure. Cheers, Doc.’

To her irritation, Mim couldn’t fault Connor’s bedside manner, suturing skills or efficiency. He was assertive, professional and fast. But as Tommo left she couldn’t help but satisfy her curiosity. ‘Well-man Clinic? Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to get one up and running for a while. No one came.’

‘Here? Wrong venue. Try the pub.’

‘I’ve put adverts up in there. But you can’t do a clinic in the pub.’

‘It worked fine in the some of the low-decile areas out West. We took mini-health checks out to some bars. But now we’ve educated the clients to go to the clinics, where there are better facilities. Still, a pub is a good starting place.’ Connor whipped off his gloves and threw them into the bin. Direct hit. Of course. He was precise and perfect and professional. And poles away from the reality of rural medicine.