by Fiona Lowe
‘The benefits of barely any light pollution. Are you interested in astronomy?’
He mused over the question. ‘I’m not saying I’m not interested, it’s just I’ve never really given it much thought.’
‘Too busy working and studying?’
‘You got it.’
She directed them across the street and produced a torch from her pocket as they turned into an unpaved road. ‘How far away are you from taking your final exams?’
‘Six months,’ he said, trying really hard to sound neutral instead of bitter and avoid yet another city-versus-country argument.
She stopped walking so suddenly that his continued motion pulled her into his chest and her torch blinded him. ‘What’s wrong? Did you leave something at the restaurant?’ he asked, seeing floaters as he turned off the torch.
‘Six months?’ Her voice rose incredulously. ‘That close?’ Her hands gripped his forearms. ‘Noah, you should be in Melbourne.’
Her unexpected support flowed into him. ‘You won’t get an argument from me.’
‘So why are you here?’
Her voice came out of the dark, asking the same question she’d posed almost two weeks ago. Back then he’d dodged it, not wanting to tell her the truth. Admitting to frailties wasn’t something he enjoyed doing. Then again, he hadn’t told anyone in a very long time about the dark days of caring for his mother and although he’d initially been reluctant, telling Lily the story at dinner hadn’t been the nightmare he’d thought it would be.
Don’t expose weakness.
She’ll understand.
Hell, she’d hinted at dinner that she suspected so what was the point in avoiding the question? He sucked in a deep breath of sea air and found his fingers playing with strands of her hair. ‘The chief of surgery believes if I sat the communication component of my exams now, I’d fail. He sent me down here for a massive increase in patient contact when they’re awake.’
Her fingers ran along the lapel of his jacket and then she took the torch back from him, turning it on. Light spilled around them. ‘Do you think you’re improving?’
God, he hoped so. He’d been trying harder than he ever had before but it didn’t come easily. ‘What do you think?’
She worried her bottom lip.
He groaned as his blood pounded south. ‘Lily, please don’t do that unless you want me to kiss you.’
‘Sorry.’
Her voice held an unusual trace of anxious apology, which immediately snagged him. ‘Don’t be sorry. But, seriously, do you think I’d pass now?’
She sighed. ‘Do you promise not to yell?’
‘Come on, Lily,’ he said bewildered, ‘I’m asking for your opinion. Why would I yell?’
She gave a strangled laugh. ‘Because what I’m about to say may not be what you want to hear.’
He gently tucked her hair behind her ears, wanting to reassure her. ‘I’ve been watching you for a week and a half and you have a natural gift with people. I want and need your opinion.’
She was quiet for a moment and when she spoke her voice was soft and low. ‘I think you’re doing better than when you arrived.’
Her tone did little to reassure him. ‘But?’
‘But you’re not quite there yet.’
Damn it. Every part of him tightened in despair and he ploughed his hands through his hair. He’d thought what he was doing was enough and now that he knew it wasn’t, he had no clue what else he could try.
She reached up, her hand touching his cheek. ‘I can help, Noah.’
The warmth of her hand dived into him, only this time, along with arousal, came something else entirely. He didn’t know how to describe it but hope was tangled up in it. ‘How?’
Her hand dropped away and she recommenced walking as if she’d regretted the intimate touch. ‘It’s no different from surgery.’
‘It’s hugely different from surgery,’ he said, nonplussed.
‘I meant,’ she said kindly, ‘it’s a skill you can learn.’
‘And you’re willing to teach me? Why?’
She paused outside a house whose veranda lamp threw out a warm, golden glow. When she looked up at him he caught a war of emotions in her eyes and on her pursed lips. ‘Because, Noah, despite not wanting to and despite all logic, I like you.’
He should be affronted but the words made him smile. ‘Aw, you’re such a sweet talker,’ he teased. ‘Does this mean I’m no longer a mistake?’
She tensed. ‘Goodnight, Noah.’
Crazy disappointment filled him that she was going to turn and disappear inside. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. ‘Lily, wait. I’m sorry.’ He wanted her back in his arms and to kiss her goodnight but he had the distinct impression that if he pulled her towards him she’d pull right back. The woman who’d thrown caution to the wind last night had vanished like a desert mirage.
He shot for honesty. ‘I had a good time tonight.’
She fiddled with her house key. ‘So did I. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He suddenly gave in to an overwhelming urge to laugh.
Her chin instantly jutted. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘This.’ He threw out his arms, indicating the space between them. ‘A first date after we’ve touched each other in amazing places and I’ve almost come just watching you fall apart over me. Yet I’m standing here on your grandfather’s veranda like an inexperienced teenager, wondering if I’m allowed to kiss you goodnight.’
Her feet shuffled, her heels tapping on the wooden boards. ‘You still want to kiss me, even though you know nothing else is going to happen?’
Something in her quiet voice made goose-bumps rise on his arms. ‘Lily, what’s going on?’
‘Nothing. Just checking.’
The words came out so sharply they whipped him. The last thing he expected was for her to step in close, wrap her arms around him, rise up on her toes and press her lips to his.
But he wasn’t complaining. His arms tightened around her as he opened his mouth under hers. Orange and dark chocolate rushed him, tempting him, addicting him, and he moaned softly as his blood thundered pure pleasure through his veins. It hit his legs and he sat heavily on the veranda ledge of the old Californian bungalow, pulling her in close, loving the feel of her breasts and belly pressing against him.
She explored his mouth like a sailor in uncharted waters—flicking and probing, marking territory—each touch setting fire to a new part of him until he was one united blaze, existing only for her. The frenzied exploration slowly faded and with one deep kiss she stole the breath from his lungs.
A moment later, wild-eyed and panting, she swung out of his arms and opened the front door.
‘Lily,’ he croaked, barely able to see straight and struggling to construct a coherent sentence, ‘not that I’m complaining, but somehow I think I still owe you a kiss.’
A wan smile lifted the edge of her mouth. ‘Not at all. Goodnight, Noah.’
As the door clicked shut softly, he had the craziest impression that he’d just passed some sort of a test.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LILY CLOSED THE DOOR behind her and sagged back against it.
What on earth were you thinking?
I wasn’t thinking at all.
And that was the problem. What had started out as a kiss to test if what Noah had said about sex being her choice was really true had almost culminated in something else entirely. Thank goodness they’d been on Gramps’s front veranda—that had totally saved her.
She pushed off the door and headed to the bathroom to splash her burning face and body with cold, cold water. Damn it, she should never have agreed to dinner. She could rationalise her reaction in the car last night as a response to trauma. She had no such luxury tonight. Dinner had been a huge mistake. If she hadn’t gone to dinner she wouldn’t have seen a vulnerable side to a guy she’d pegged as irritable and difficult. She desperately needed to see him as arrogant, irascible, opinionated, unfeeling
and short-sighted, because that gave her a buffer of safety. Only he really wasn’t any of those things without good reason and that had decimated her safety barrier as easily as enemy tanks rolling relentlessly into a demilitarised zone.
At dinner he’d been the perfect gentleman and he’d walked her home, and—this still stunned her—he’d asked her permission to kiss her goodnight. He was all restraint while she … Oh, God. She groaned at the memory and studied herself in the bathroom mirror.
Face flushed pink, pupils so large and black they almost obliterated the blue of her irises, and her hair wild and untamed, framing her cheeks. She looked like an animal on heat. One kiss and she’d been toast. Toast on fire, burning brightly with flames leaping high into the air. Feeling alive for the first time in, oh, so long, and she both loved and feared the feeling.
Why fear it? He kept his word.
And that scared her most because it tempted her to trust again.
‘You’re looking tired,’ Lily said to Kylie Ambrose as she took her blood pressure. ‘Are you getting any rest?’
‘With three kids? What do you think?’
Lily wrapped up the blood-pressure cuff. ‘I think that as tomorrow’s Saturday you need to get Shane to take the kids out for the day and you need to sleep.’
‘Shane’s working really hard at the moment, Lily. He needs to rest too.’
Lily’s pen paused on the observation chart and she set it down. ‘Shane’s not six months pregnant, Kylie.’
‘Can you imagine if guys got pregnant? They’d have to lie down for the whole nine months.’ Kylie’s laugh sounded forced. ‘You know tomorrow’s the footy so he can’t mind them.’
‘Sunday, then,’ Lily suggested, with a futility she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Despite the fact she was both taller and fitter than Shane Ambrose, he was the sort of man she avoided. He reminded her too much of Trent—the life of the party, charming and able to hold a crowd in the palm of his hand, flirting shamelessly with all the women of the town while Kylie, so often pregnant, stood on the sidelines and watched.
‘Shane insists that Sunday’s family day,’ Kylie said in a tone that brooked no further comment. ‘I promise I’ll catch up on some sleep next week.’
‘Great,’ Lily said, stifling a sigh and knowing it was unlikely to happen. ‘Your ankles are a little puffy so I want to see you next week too.’
‘Shane’s not going to like that.’
Memories of Trent trying to control her made Lily snap. ‘Tell Shane if he has a problem with the care you’re receiving, he can come and talk to me and Dr Jackson.’ And she’d tell Noah that Shane Ambrose was the one person he didn’t have to be polite with. In fact, she’d love it if he gave the man some of his shoot-from-the-hip, brusquely no-nonsense medical advice.
Kylie immediately backpedalled. ‘That’s not necessary, Lily. Of course Shane wants the best for me and the kids.’
Lily wasn’t at all sure Shane Ambrose wanted the best for his family but she felt bad for being short with Kylie. ‘If it helps, bring the kids with you to the appointment. Karen and Chippy can keep them entertained while I see you.’
Kylie gave her a grateful look. ‘Thanks, Lily. Not everyone understands.’
Lily understood only too well and that was the problem.
Noah heard the click-clack of claws on the floor and turned to see Chippy heading to his basket. ‘Hey, boy, what are you doing here on a Saturday?’
The dog wandered over to him, presenting his head to be patted. It made Noah smile. When he’d arrived he’d thought the idea of a dog in a medical practice was ridiculous but two weeks down the track he had to agree that Chippy had a calming effect on a lot of the patients. ‘Where’s your owner, mate?’
‘Right here.’
He spun around to see Lily wearing three-quarter-length navy pants, a cream and navy striped top and bright red ballet flats—chic, casual, weekend wear. She looked fresh and for Lily almost carefree. Almost. There was something about her that hovered permanently—a reserve. An air of extreme caution, except for the twice it had fallen away spectacularly and completely. Both times had involved lust. Both times he’d been wowed.
He hadn’t seen her since Thursday night when she’d kissed him like he was the last man standing. He’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven. As a result, his concentration had been hopeless yesterday, to the point that one of the oldies in the nursing home had asked him if he was the one losing his memory.
With a start, he realised he was staring at her. ‘You look good.’ The words came out gruff and throaty. ‘Very nautical.’
She shrugged as if the compliment unnerved her. ‘It’s the first sunny day we’ve had this season so I hauled out the spring clothes to salute the promise of summer.’
‘As you’re here on a Saturday, I guess that means you have a labouring woman coming in?’
‘No. I’m here to help you, like I promised.’
Confusion skittered through him. ‘But I got the book you left in my pigeonhole and I’ve read it.’ It was a self-help guide that he’d forced himself to read and had been pleasantly surprised to find that, instead of navel-gazing mumbo-jumbo, it actually had some reasonable and practical suggestions. ‘Is there more?’
‘Yes.’ Her mouth curved up into a smile. ‘This is Noah’s Practical Communication Class 102.’
‘I guess that’s better than 101,’ he grumbled.
‘That’s the spirit, Pollyanna,’ she said with a laugh, as her perfume wafted around him.
He wanted so badly to reach out and grab her around the waist, feel her against him and kiss those red, ruby lips. He almost did, but three things stopped him.
Number one: he was at work and a professional.
There’s no one else here yet so it would be okay.
Shut up.
Number two: after two nights of broken sleep and reliving their exhilarating and intoxicating random hook-ups, he’d decided that the best way to proceed with Lily was with old-fashioned dating. Not that he really knew anything about that because his experience with women came more under the banner of hook-ups rather than dating, but his month in Turraburra was all about firsts.
Number three: Karen chose that moment to march through the door like the Pied Piper, with half a dozen patients trailing in behind her.
If he was brutally honest with himself, this was the only reason he didn’t give in to his overwhelming desire to kiss Lily until she made that mewling sound in the back of her throat and sagged against him.
‘No rest for the wicked, Doctor,’ Karen said briskly, dumping her bag on the desk. ‘Mrs Burke is up first.’
Smile, eye contact, greeting. He recalled the basics from the book. Smiling at the middle-aged woman, he said, ‘Morning, Mrs Burke. Glorious day today.’
‘For some perhaps,’ she said snarkily as she stomped ahead of him down the hall.
‘Deep breath, Noah,’ Lily said quietly, giving his arm a squeeze before they followed their patient into the examination room.
His automatic response was to read Mrs Burke’s history but as he turned towards the computer screen Lily cleared her throat. He stifled a sigh and fixed his gaze on his patient. ‘How can I help you today, Mrs Burke?’
‘You can’t.’ She folded her arms over her ample chest. ‘Not unless you can pull any strings with the hospital waiting lists.’
‘What procedure are you waiting for?’
‘Gall bladder.’
‘You’re—’ He stopped himself from saying, ‘fair, fat and forty’, which was the classic presentation for cholelithiasis. ‘How many attacks have you had?’
‘One. I thought I was having a heart attack but, according to the hospital in Berwick, one attack doesn’t qualify as urgent so I’m on the waiting list. It’s been three months and now on top of everything I have shocking heartburn. I feel lousy all the time.’
He tapped his pen, running through options in his head. ‘Is there any way you can a
fford to be a private patient?’
‘Oh, right. I’m just waiting around for the hell of it.’
Frustration dripped from the words and he was tempted to suggest she donate to the sarcasm jar.
‘I think Dr Jackson is just covering all the bases,’ Lily said mildly.
Surprise rocked him. Had she just defended him? Or was she just worried he was going to be equally rude back to Mrs Burke? Ordinarily, he would have said what he always said to patients attending the outpatient clinic at the Melbourne Victoria, which was, ‘You’re just going to have to wait it out,’ and then he’d exit the room quickly. Only that wasn’t an option in Turraburra.
Try reflective listening. The self-help book had an entire chapter on it, but Noah wasn’t totally convinced it worked. ‘I understand how frustrating it must be—’
‘Do you really?’ Claire Burke’s eyes threw daggers at him. ‘With that car you drive and the salary you earn, I bet you have private health insurance.’
He wanted to yell, I’m a surgical registrar. Plumbers earn more than I do at the moment and my student debt is enormous, but he blew out a breath and tried something he’d never done before. He gave a tiny bit of himself. ‘I grew up in a family who couldn’t afford insurance, Claire,’ he said, hoping that by using her first name it might help defuse some of her anger. ‘I can treat your heartburn and I’ll make a call on Monday to find out where you are on the surgical waiting list. I will try and see if I can move you along a bit.’
He knew the chance of getting her moved up the list was about ten thousand to one. It frustrated him because the crazy thing was that an elective cholecystectomy was routine laparoscopic surgery. He could have operated on her but in Turraburra he didn’t have access to any operating facilities.
You will in two weeks. The thought cheered him. ‘Would you be able to go to East Melbourne for surgery if that was the only option?’
‘I’ll go anywhere.’ Claire’s anger deflated like a balloon as she accepted the prescription for esomeprazole. ‘Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate that you took the time to listen.’
