Greek Doctor, Cinderella Bride

by Amy Andrews

  ‘You looked good with a baby,’ he murmured, his voice huskier than usual.

  Isobella’s fingers stumbled against the keys for a second as her heart accelerated madly. ‘Everyone looks good with a baby,’ she said, eyes firmly on her laptop screen, refusing to be drawn.

  ‘Join me at the Terrace Bar for a drink?’ Alex requested as they walked into the hotel foyer. The taxi ride from the hospital had been accomplished in silence, with Isobella staring out the window.

  ‘No,’ Isobella said. She didn’t want to socialise with him. The day had been an enormous strain, and she wanted to soak in a tub and get an early night for their crack-of-dawn start tomorrow.

  ‘Don’t be difficult, Isobella.’ Alex had tolerated her silence in the cab, but he would not put up with her mood for the next few days. ‘If it makes it easier, consider it an order.’

  Isobella gritted her teeth. His tone left her in no doubt he thought she was being a petulant child. Not the consummate professional he demanded her to be. She had a good mind to tell him to shove his job. This wasn’t what she’d signed on for.

  Just three more days. That’s all.

  Why blow the best job she’d ever had in a fit of feminine pique? She squared her shoulders. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Alex gave her back a small smile as he followed her brisk strides into the bar. He stopped to order drinks, watching her weave her way through the late-afternoon patrons. He followed her a few minutes later.

  He stopped at the entry to the large terracotta terrace that jutted out over the beach, searching for her blonde head. He located her easily, propped against the stainless steel railing, staring out to sea. The sunset blazing low on the horizon gilded her hair, giving the impression of a halo, and he gave a wry smile.

  The tangerine blush of the sky grew larger as he approached, like a giant canvas. The colours of the setting sun bled from a pale blush to pomegranate to crimson. The steady rhythm of the nearby waves calmly lapped at the all-but-deserted beach.

  And despite the glorious sunset, and the array of beautiful people there to witness it, and her dreadful sense of style, she was still the most interesting thing on the balcony.

  ‘Hard to believe that cyclone’s still hanging around,’ he said, nudging her arm with a frosty cocktail glass.

  Isobella shivered as his voice brushed the skin near her ear. ‘I heard it was heading back to sea,’ she said, clutching the rail for a moment before turning side on and taking the proffered umbrellaed glass. ‘What is it?’ she asked dubiously.

  ‘Sex on the Beach.’ He smiled.

  Isobella took a second to steady herself, gripping the glass. ‘I’m celibate these days, Dr Zaphirides,’ she said dropping it on a nearby table and not caring that it probably cost him an arm and a leg.

  Alex chuckled. ‘That’s a shame. Celibacy is not good for you.’

  ‘Spoken like a true man,’ she said derisively.

  Alex chuckled again, but turned to face the water taking a swig of his long-necked beer. She watched his profile, fascinated by the way the light sea breeze ruffled his luxurious locks, brushing them against his forehead.

  ‘What do you want, Alex?’

  Alex took a moment to absorb the peace and the quiet resilience of the ocean before he turned to the harnessed civility of her face. ‘You were great today.’

  Isobella gave him a dubious look. ‘I prefer my microscope.’

  ‘I don’t think you do.’

  The accuracy of his husky observation rankled. Particularly as he was right. The patient contact today had been challenging, and she’d kept herself as distant as possible, but she’d been surprised to find herself being drawn into it again. She looked away from the piercing insight of his gaze, watching the to and fro of the ocean.

  ‘Why are you locking yourself way in the lab? You built fabulous rapports with Phoebe and our clients. You were great with Danielle. You were just what that poor frightened girl needed. You were a nurse today.’

  Isobella shrugged. What did it matter? She wasn’t a nurse any more. ‘Old habits die hard.’

  ‘You’d make a great field officer.’

  She turned to face him again, his open-neck shirt reminding her that despite his flattery they were too different. ‘I don’t want to be a field officer.’

  ‘You gave up because you got too close to your patients, didn’t you? It was nothing to do with wanting a change. I saw how you were with Danielle. Your empathy was palpable. Did it get too much? Did you have a breakdown?’ It would explain her jumpiness this morning in the ICU.

  Isobella didn’t answer. Not even to tell him he was way off base. Let him think what he liked. It was none of his damn business.

  ‘Don’t you miss it?’

  Isobella sighed. ‘Do you miss surgery?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘Before the cancer I was set on the glamour of surgery. Plastics. Burns, particularly. To me there was no other kind of medicine, no other kind of doctor. Why become a doctor if you couldn’t be a surgeon?’

  He looked at her for confirmation and she nodded, not wanting to break his dialogue, mesmerised by his animated face, the gravel in his voice and the poetry of the ocean.

  ‘Then I was forced to take time away. Get on the other side of the bed for a change. The unglamorous side. And all around me was this whole other medical world that existed outside of the operating theatre. It didn’t take me too long to realise that if you took my scalpel away I was still a doctor. I could still help people.’

  Isobella nodded. She understood. It was what she was trying to do after all. Help people. People who depended on what she was doing. People like her. It was just that she preferred the anonymity of the white coat.

  ‘It’s no different for me. This is the way I choose to help people now.’

  ‘But you have a gift. You said just the right things to Danielle today. You’re wasted in the lab.’

  She looked into his earnest gaze. ‘I’m a woman, Alex. I have female intuition. That’s all it was.’

  Yes, she was a woman. And a very original woman at that. With a body she hid in baggy clothes and a face she camouflaged behind truly hideous glasses. Why on earth did he want her so much?

  ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’

  Isobella was tempted. The man looked utterly devastating, and his gravelly invitation was laced with a sinful edge. The female inside that she’d tamed and caged, strait-jacketed in an asexual shell, wanted to indulge and to hell with the consequences. But her mental scars, and the memory of Anthony’s face filled with revulsion, held her back.

  She turned away looking to the activity on the terrace, desperate for the noise and buzz to cover her confusion in place of the tranquility of the waves.

  And Sonya was there, striding towards them in a little black dress, red heels and a flower in her lush long hair. She had a wide smile on her scarlet lips and a look of possession that gave Isobella the perfect retreat.

  ‘I think your dance card’s full,’ she murmured, pushing away from the railing.

  Alex watched as Isobella departed, brushing past Sonya and nodding a slight greeting.

  She didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ISOBELLA was pleased to be on terra firma, even if the sand was being eroded from beneath her feet with each lap of the waves. Alex had been right. Piccolo Island had been worth the rigours of the trip—they’d landed in Eden.

  A two-hour small plane trip from Cairns to Temora Island and then another hour’s boat ride had not been good for her equilibrium. Seeing Alex in boardies that clung to his bottom and showed off a fair portion of exquisitely sculpted dark-haired calf and thigh muscle hadn’t been great for it either. But his casual T-shirt, exposing the bronzed column of his neck and the corded strength of his arms, had thankfully been enough to keep her mind off the endless ocean.

  She looked around. Even at nine in the morning the bone-white sand was warm beneath her toes on the sun-drenched beach as they walked towards the
main buildings visible through some foliage. The sun caressed her skin and danced beams on the crystal blue water in a dazzling kaleidoscope of light, causing Isobella’s pupils to constrict in protest. She donned her owlish prescription sunglasses and was grateful for the broad brim of her hat.

  A wiry-looking man with a woolly beard, an unbuttoned shirt flapping in the breeze and a toddler on his hip strode purposefully towards them. ‘Dr Zaphirides, great to have you here again.’

  ‘Mike,’ Alex said warmly, extending his hand to Dr Mike Caldwell who ran the Piccolo Research Station with his wife, Dr Theresa Crane. They were both marine biologists, conducting a range of experiments within the Great Barrier Reef marine park and beyond. ‘Knock it off with the Dr Zaphirides.’

  Mike laughed. ‘Sure thing, Alex. And who do we have here?’

  Alex introduced Isobella, explaining about Reg’s last-minute withdrawal, and then turned his attention to Mike’s two-year-old, giving the boy’s hair a ruffle. ‘I can’t believe how much Sam’s grown. He was just a baby when I was here last.’

  Sam reached his arms out to Alex, and Alex plucked the toddler out of his father’s arms and grinned down at him.

  ‘Well, he’s into everything now. A right little monkey—aren’t you, mate?’

  Isobella was grateful for the tinted glasses as she watched Alex beam indulgently at the angelic-looking child with the wild gleam in his eyes. He looked as comfortable holding Sam as he had on the boat and as he had at the symposium. Nothing seemed to throw him. He held the child confidently, chatting with Mike while still paying attention to Sam.

  ‘Where’s Theresa?’

  ‘She’s gone out with Ruth, one of the students, to check on some of the stinger traps.’

  Isobella felt her heartbeat accelerate, excited and terrified in equal measure to see what Theresa brought back with her. She wondered how far out they had to go to set the traps, as box jellyfish didn’t inhabit the waters around the reefs.

  ‘They’ll be back some time in the afternoon,’ Mike continued. ‘I’m on Sam duty today.’

  ‘Sam,’ Sam said.

  Alex chuckled. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Sam,’ the child repeated, obviously proud of himself.

  ‘Come on—I’ll show you where to stash your stuff,’ Mike said.

  Isobella followed the two men up a sandy path through some scrubby vegetation. Alex was still holding Sam, and she wondered what kind of alternative universe she’d entered. Damn it. It was easier to distance herself from Alex in the lab. This whole tropical island thing was too…casual. She longed for the formality of the cold sterile lab and her white coat.

  The research station consisted of several structures. Two concrete buildings fronted the cleared area, their roofs covered in solar panels. A decent-sized satellite dish protruded from the one set a little further back. Mike took them into the closest one, which was obviously the living quarters.

  A small anteroom where various pieces of snorkeling equipment were stored opened into very basic living quarters, consisting only of a hallway from which three bedrooms and a bathroom ran off. Woven seagrass matting covered the concrete floor.

  ‘I’m sorry—this is it,’ Mike apologized, as he opened the door to a small room with bunk beds pushed against the far wall. An old desk and some wall-mounted shelves above a low chest of drawers were the only other furniture in the room. ‘I didn’t think it would be a problem with you and Reg. Ruth and Kate share the end room, and Theresa, Sam and I are in the other.’

  Isobella surveyed the basic room, the implication that she would be sharing it with Alex sinking into her consciousness like the proverbial stone. Great. How would she sleep with him so near? She’d been cultivating distance in her relationships ever since Anthony’s rejection. This was getting out of hand.

  Alex saw Isobella’s hand creep up to her throat. He’d noticed she did that whenever she was anxious about something. Her fingers stroked the polo neck nervously. For God’s sake—he was hardly likely to jump her in the middle of the night.

  He preferred his women willing, not looking like a Victorian heroine about to be ravished by a rake. And he was her boss—even if he had been thinking way too many inappropriate thoughts where Isobella was concerned. Already he was wondering what she wore to bed.

  ‘Do you have any spare swags?’ he asked Mike.

  Distance—that was what he needed. Although if her day clothes were anything to go by, her nightwear was probably neck to toe and fairly distance-provoking anyway.

  ‘Sure. On the shelf.’

  Alex nodded. ‘I’ll take mine down to the beach.’

  The beach? As much as she didn’t want him big and male and sleepy only meters away, she knew it was selfish to banish him to the outdoors. They were both adults, for goodness’ sake, and it was only three nights.

  ‘Alex.’ Isobella turned to him in protest. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m sure we’re capable of bunking together for a few nights.’

  ‘I like the beach. You should try it one night. The waves lulling you to sleep and a blazing bonfire. Away from all the city lights the stars are amazing.’

  ‘Full moon too for the next few nights,’ Mike added.

  Isobella conjured the picture in her mind. Her and Alex camped out under the stars together. There was an intimacy to it she shied from instantly. ‘Thanks—I’m more the five-star type.’

  Mike laughed. ‘Well, it ain’t the Ritz, but it’s all we’ve got. Dump your bags in here for the moment anyway, and I’ll show you around.’

  They moved into the other besser block building sporting the dish. There was nothing rudimentary about this one. High-tech was an understatement. Mike showed off his mini-lab with pride. State-of-the-art equipment covered every surface—the latest high-powered microscopes, computers, and a sophisticated communication centre complete with the latest in radio technology.

  ‘Wow,’ Isobella muttered, totally dazzled by the equipment. The lab was a compact version of her own workplace, and she doubted Mike and Theresa wanted for anything.

  Mike laughed. ‘Pretty impressive, huh?’

  ‘I’ll say.’

  ‘We couldn’t do it on government support alone. We rely on donations from private industry too. Zaphirides Medical Enterprises has been particularly generous.’

  Mike walked them through the different experiments they were undertaking for a variety of organizations, both governmental and private. It seemed odd to be taking a tour through tech central with a barely dressed tour guide looking like a grizzly and toting a toddler on his hip.

  They stopped by a large screen. ‘This is our weather tracking station,’ Mike said. ‘It’s a direct feed from the department of meteorology. Cyclone Mary’s still hovering.’ He pointed to the swirling, menacing mass of low pressure a few hundred kilometres away.

  ‘Do you think she’ll turn back towards us?’ Alex asked.

  Mike shrugged. ‘Who knows? Meteorology think it’ll keep heading out and fizzle. But you know women.’ He dug Alex in the ribs. ‘Pretty hard to predict.’

  Alex laughed. Wasn’t that the truth? A classic example was standing right next to him.

  ‘Dare you to say that when Theresa is here.’

  Mike hooted. ‘Do I look stupid?’

  Isobella ignored them. ‘So everything’s run on solar power?’

  Mike nodded. ‘We have a back-up generator, but we don’t carry much fuel so we try only to use that in an emergency. We get enough sunshine to power the lab twenty-four-seven, and we try to conserve energy everywhere else.’

  They wandered outside, and Mike gestured them over to the outdoor cooking area. ‘We cook and eat here mostly,’ he said. It was an open three-sided structure, with a cement slab floor, a thatched roof and a large table grounded into concrete.

  A fancy gas barbecue that would have been at home in the gardens of Buckingham Palace dominated the back wall, along with a large camp fridge. A pantry of dry food supplies and cooking equipment com
pleted the space.

  ‘We take it in turns to cook. It’s mine tonight,’ Mike said.

  ‘Do you get much fresh food, or is it mainly tinned and prepackaged?’ Isobella asked.

  ‘We get our supplies from Temora once a fortnight. Kate brought back our latest when she went to pick up you guys. So the first week or so we have more fresh food, and we always have plenty of fresh fish. Theresa’s throwing a line in while she’s out today, so hopefully she’ll catch a couple of nice reef fish for tonight.’

  Mike showed them a locked storage shed next. It was set slightly apart from the rest of the buildings and was about the size of two garden sheds, again securely cemented into the concrete slab.

  ‘We keep all kinds of supplies in here. Gas bottles, torches, batteries, spare motor parts for the generator, fuel, all kind of bits and pieces to perform running repairs.’

  ‘Looks like you have to be a jack-of-all-trades,’ Isobella murmured.

  ‘It helps.’ Mike grinned. ‘The shed, as with the rest of the buildings, is cyclone-rated. But I guess you don’t really know until it’s weathered one.’

  ‘Let’s hope Mary doesn’t put that rating to the test in the next few days,’ Alex interjected.

  Isobella couldn’t help but agree. ‘What about all the lab supplies? Are they kept in here too?’

  Mike shook his head, bending to place a fractious Sam on the sandy ground. ‘The lab stuff’s too expensive to risk out here. There’s a purpose-built room at the back of the lab where all the supplies are stored.’

  A little hand touched her leg, and Isobella almost jumped. She looked down to find Sam looking up at her, grinning. He had obviously been attracted to the large yellow flowers on her sarong. Her heart contracted at his easy smile. She reached down and tentatively touched his downy hair.

  ‘Come on, Sam, let’s show them the genny.’

  Sam took his father’s hand, and they followed Mike around the back of the shed to where the generator sat. ‘It’s here in case we need emergency power for some reason—if the solar goes down. It’s wired in to support the essential areas of the lab—the fridges and computers mainly. I’ve only ever had to use it once, but I fire it up every week and do a maintenance check on it.’